With shouts of rage and cries of Foul! the other boys leapt up from the pages’ bench and charged at Elyn, their wooden sabers raised to strike. Last of all came Elgo running swiftly, overhauling all, running through to the fore of the onslaught. Ruric shouted some command, yet his words were not heeded. And Elyn, looking up, cast aside her sword and ran.
Aranor leapt to his feet, his fists clenched, yet he said nought, while at his side Mala shrieked, “Stop them! Stop them! They seek to harm a Princess!”
Out from the judges’ square darted Elyn, toward her horse. Yet it was not her horse she strove for; it was her quarterstaff instead, lying on the ground. As she snatched it up, Elgo ran nigh, and placed his back to hers, his saber raised high, spitting vengeful oaths at the other lads.
Crack! Klak! Thdd! Flying stave and slashing saber took their toll. Lads fell aside, holding heads and ribs and battered hands as they rocked in stress and pain. But Elyn and Elgo, too, took their share, for they were sorely outnumbered and could not fend all.
Yet the battle quickly ended as Ruric and Agnor and the other judges waded in shouting and flinging youths aside like jacks-o’-straw.
At last, of all the younglings, only Elyn and Elgo stood-battered, bruised, a trickle of blood here and there. Yet they stood straight, heads held high, facing the King’s pavilion.
“My Lord,” Elyn’s voice rang out, “ ’gainst fair fight as well as foul, Elgo and I have defeated those you sent here to test me. Now I would have you declare me fit-to declare us both fit-to train in earnest upon these grounds.”
At Elyn’s words Ruric began to roar with laughter.
And from the pavilion: “By the hoard of Sleeth, daughter,” declared Aranor, a great proud smile wrinkling his face, “you shall have your wish!”
At these words, Mala’s eyes flew wide, and she rounded on Aranor: “But, Sire, you cannot mean it! You have let her accidental victories befool you! Surely you jest! After all I’ve said and done, you cannot-”
“Shut your clack, woman!” Aranor lashed out, his face flushing livid, grim. .
. . and from that moment on, nothing else was said by any to gainsay the Warrior Maiden training of Elyn, daughter of Aranor, sister to Elgo, Vanadurin Princess of Jord.
CHAPTER 5
Year’s Long Night, 3E8
[Centuries Apast]
Deep under the burden of the Rigga Mountains, the very air of the eld Dwarvenholt of Blackstone was charged with anticipation. The solemn, twelve-day fast was drawing to an end, and the joyous twelve-day feast was about to begin. Cheol-Winterfest-would commence at mid of night on this longest of darktides, and once again would bright light and industry fill the carven halls.
It was a reverent time of renewal, not only for the Châkka-the Dwarves-in Blackstone, but for Châkka in all Dwarvenholts throughout Mitheor: in the Red Caves and Mineholt North, in Bluehall and the Quartzen Hills and Skyloft, in Kachar and mighty Kraggen-cor and elsewhere-wherever Châkka dwelled.
Twelve days past they had laid aside their tools-all work halted: picks and mattocks ceased delving treasured ores; carts moved not; forge fires died, furnaces fell cold, crucibles turned dark; hammers and anvils rang with silence; neither did whetstone grind nor auger bore; ovens baked not, nor did spits turn nor pots stew. All stopped: all delving, forging, crafting, shaping, turning, baking, cooking. . all.
And for twelve days an intense stillness fell upon the caverns. And Châkka thought deeply upon Honor and Life and Death, upon their proud History, and upon the Shades of their revered Ancestors. Aye, twelve long days and nights of brooding contemplation consumed each Châk’s life, and only calamitous War or other dire necessity would or could cause a Dwarf to break from this inward questing for the essence of Châkkadom.
In this time, too, the Loremasters would gather Châkka youth, as well as others, and speak of Creation and Death and Purpose. These are the words of the Loremasters:
When Adon made Mitheor, it was lush and green. And fish swam in the waters, beasts roamed the lands, birds filled the air. Rain and Sun, wind and night, the Moon, the stars, the day, Mountains and rivers, grass upon the plains, hot desert sands and barren wastes of ice and snow: all these and more were part of Adon’s design-and they were wondrous to behold.
Yet Elwydd looked down upon Her Sire’s handiwork and saw that there were no Folk upon the world. And so she set Her gentle hand unto this creation. Utruni, Men, Châkka, Waerans: from the large to the small, these-and mayhap more-She brought forth upon the face of Mitheor.
As for their manifold purposes, Elwydd did not reveal these, though She knows what they are; instead, She allows each Folk to select their own course, to find their own way, but no Folk know for certain that their chosen paths bring them closer to the hidden goals.
Yet this we do know: to the Châkka She gave the underMountain realms, and the mastery of stone and fire. . Stone and fire: it governs how we live and it aids us when we die, for it is through pure stone or the cleansing fire that our spirits are set free after death. . free to roam among the stars until again it is time to start another cycle: to be reborn, to live, and to die and once more walk the vault above.
And as our spirits stride among the stars, we touch their wondrous beauty and know their shining secret. And though it is that each time we are reborn we cannot remember the way of their crafting, still the stars are marvelous, and their echoes haunt our dreams. And all that we do, all that we craft, is but an attempt to match their grace-for we believe that Elwydd has given that task to the Châkka: to touch the stars.
Thus it was that Adon made Mitheor. . But it was Elwydd, His Daughter, who placed Folk upon the world. And it was She who set before them the tasks that they are to fathom, and the mysteries that they are to resolve. .
. . or so the Loremasters say.
For twelve days and nights the Dwarves had fasted and pondered upon these enigmas, as well as History and Ancestors and Honor and Life and Death. Yet this annual quest was once more drawing to a close, for with the Starlight Invocation, held at mid of night on Year’s Long Night, the contemplation and fasting would come to an end, and twelve days of revelry and feasting would begin. And when these twelve days also came to a close, forges and furnaces would be new-fired, ores mined, metals refined, gems carved, and the great crafting of arms, armor, jewelry, tools, and all the other items of Châkka industry would commence once more.
And as Year’s Long Night deepened, the aromas of succulent roasts and baked breads and rare spices and hot pastries wafted throughout the halls and chambers of each holt, for at sundown the preparations for the feasting had begun.
In Blackstone-known as the Jewel of Châkkaholts, for here was delved silver and gold and precious stones-DelfLord Bokar watched as Châkka began to gather in the great West Hall, for mid of night drew nigh.
Bokar stepped through the postern at the side of the mighty gate. Out into the clear Mountain air he came, out into the winter night. He nodded at the sentries on watch, and strode into the wide foregate courtyard, his boots stepping upon smoothed granite. Pacing to the center, he stopped, gazing at the star pattern above.