The Golden Scales

8: The frozen valley

The Golden Scales, for that was the name they've settled on, started their long ascension up to the mountains. There were roads leading to the innermost parts of the valleys of the Orcran ridge. According to Gundbar's explanation, it was the best route to reach the orcs' village. The more they climb, the less vegetation they'd find and snow became more common, which would go lower and lower during the autumn. The road Gundbar told them was wide enough to put the cart on it, but even so it had complicated climbs requiring a bit more effort from the horses and, sometimes, from the hunters themselves. Ling had to push the cart more than once to help the climb.

As they stopped to eat something, in a place where they could see the forest-filled areas below, Nihilus told them about the dream he had the night before.

"My Lord demands that I go to Alzungheft." he explained, finishing a narration where he skimmed a few details. "It's to the west, in the middle of the mountains. It looks like an ancient dwarven city, hidden inside a volcano."

Ulfhärt quickly got his map.

"We would lose about a day of journey if we head there." His expert eyes looked for the best route to get there. "But if we do it right, we can get there and then go down with the orcs to negociate."

"Fine for me." Neven said "It's not a good idea to defy the orders of the Gods, celestials or abyssals."

"What's the difference between one and the other?" Kilau asked, who never had been much for one god or another.

"All of them created the world together, and then they fought over how it would be ruled. Celestials wanted a world of order and law, where everything worked following a certain logic. The abyssals wanted to make a world where magic reigned supreme and rules could be changed. In their battle, the celestials won and exiled the others to the lower planes where there's nothing created, hence the name of abyssals. They live outside the reality in the endless abyss that drives people mad and erases them."

"And Nihilus' master is one of the abyssals?"

"It is" he informed, with an emotionless tone. "It is also the only one who protected me when I needed it, and I owe him my life."

"A life debt can be more important than ideals, sometimes." Neven explained "Even if my god and his are enemies, it is not my place to deny a plea for help."

"We help him, then?" Kri-ling asked.

"He is our companion. Of course we'll help him." She said. And let him take whatever choice he feels is right she added mentally.

After eating the travelling rations they had, mostly based in cured meat with some vegetables, they started moving again. Antonius, with the horses' reigns on his hands, started whistling a song in a strange tone. Neven tried to accompany him, but it had some strange and sudden changes in rythm that managed to steal a smile from the impassible Ulfhärt.

"What are you singing?" Kilau asked him.

"And old dwarven song" He answered. "It speaks about the ancient underground kingdoms, and how the northern ones disappeared once, without leaving a trace. There are some verses I like a lot, which translating quite liberally and without following the proper rythm, say something in the lines of...

Hit, smash, the old and ancient drums
thunder, break, crack the stone and get an answer
Thundering echoes, the sound of drums away
Hear the answer, hear champion

Silence, silence, the silence of the Abyss

The stone tells that tale of the land of fire and ice
Hear the silence, young dwarf. Hear the wisdom
of those before you who unsuccessfully tried
to bring music and laughter to the tunnels

But they're silent, silent, those who sang

Thunder, break the stone with sounds of armor
The Black Shields march to war.
Old land of the north, old and forgotten, lost
Don't try to recover it, young dwarf, don't

For those who tried, they never returned."