Lotmeag

Prelude Seven

Read before Chapter 26 of Stone & Sky

Lotmeag Kandersaw strode through the stone hallways at a determined pace. He was the very picture of a dwarven warrior. He was a barrel of a dwarf and his heavy armor made him look even stouter. His brown hair flowed out the back of his helm, which had a singular horn on top with long, dyed red hairs that spat out the point. His beard hung out over his chest plate with impressive thickness. He had a rather serious way about him, for a young dwarf, that inspired other dwarven warriors. That was probably a contributing factor as to why Bendur Clagstack, leader of the garvawk warriors of Galium, chose to elevate Lotmeag as his second-in-command.

In truth, Bendur Clagstack was an old garvawk warrior, and though he would never even entertain talk of him retiring, they both knew that he needed to train up a successor because he wouldn’t be around forever. A dwarf could live to a good ripe age of 350 years old. But that was not the case for garvwak warriors. The strain of connecting with the panther-like flying creatures had an effect on their dwarven bodies—and that was aside from the very real fact that the older they got, the more vulnerable they were in battle. No, the garvawk warrior’s life was not a long-lived one, but many dwarven warriors vied for the honor to serve with the group and the exotic beasts.

Garvawks were beautiful and deadly creatures. They resembled the blackest of panthers and sported elegant, bat-like wings. If inspected closely, one could find variations in their coats that revealed wild spots or markings. But getting that close to a garvawk in the wild would almost certainly mean death. So usually, only the warriors that worked directly with the great cats witnessed such things. They were not very common creatures, and it was quite the endeavor to procure another for the group. That’s why it was so exciting to be on a glendon team—an ancient dwarven word that roughly translated to “the hunt.”

It had been reported that a garvawk was spotted in a newer cavern that had been opened in Galium’s famed Deep Mines. Garvawk behaviors varied widely. Some had been known to act like bats that left their caves at night to find prey and eat under the open night sky. Some had been known to prowl around in far-flung caverns, tearing apart creatures that dared to venture into their territory. Lotmeag guessed there was probably a much larger number of garvawks living among the monsters in the depths of the Underrock that the dwarves knew little about. It was unwise to mine anywhere near the Underrock and generations of dwarves avoided the dark mysteries there.

But this garvawk sighting seemed to be a rather clear case. The miners had broken through to another cavern that actually opened upward. It led down several paths and to various side caverns, but also to an opening on the edge of a mountain valley. This garvawk seemed to be one that liked to leave its cave and hunt creatures at night. It was as good a prospect for the warriors as they’d had in years.

One of Galium’s war-hog warriors had been chosen to be on the glendon team, as was their tradition. His name was Felton, and he had proven himself a sturdy dwarf. He was a great candidate for the garvawk warriors and he had earned the honor. The other half was willingness. No one was forced to be a garvawk warrior. It came with consequences, they knew. So, each one had volunteered to serve with the elite group. Felton was no different.

When the report about the garvawk had come, Bendur Clagstack had charged Lotmeag to lead the glendon team. He’d been a part of several over the years, after his own initial hunt when he first connected with his garvawk, Glory. But this was the first one he would lead. Thankfully, he would have the aid of an experienced mage, Argus Azulekor.

As he turned down another hallway, he heard an explosion and bright lights flashed underneath the doorway at the end of the corridor. Lotmeag jumped into a sprint. He started banging on the door. “Argus! Are ye all right in there?!”

“Oops…” Lotmeag heard a weak voice through the door, followed by some rather violent coughing.

A strange odor started burning the garvawk warrior’s nostrils. It was an earthy smell mixed with a chalky bitter scent that he did not recognize. “Argus?” He called again.

The coughing grew closer and the metal door loop clunked and shifted as the heavy door swung open. A yellowish cloud poured out into the hallway. “What are ye doing in here? Huck!” Lotmeag asked as the smoke clogged his airway as well. He hurried past the older dwarf and opened one of the windows, grabbing a leather parchment cover and wafting the smoke out into the open air. Thankfully, the mage had an anterior room in the castle that had windows.

Argus turned back over his shoulder and smiled sheepishly at the garvawk warrior while he used a cloak to waft smoke out of the other window that he’d just opened. “Not… Hack! Exactly what I was going for.”

“I imagine not,” Lotmeag replied, waving the wide piece of leather. “What were ye trying to do?”

“I’ve been attempting to complete the work of the old Master Mage Lontus Glonet. He was trying to mix two metals that he thought would make some strong armor that was even easier to imbue with magical properties. Cough! But they don’t seem to like each other. So, I was trying to break them down even more, and well…” He paused and held his hands up in the air. “You see, the results.”

Lotmeag shook his head and set the parchment cover on the table next to him. The air in the room was already clearing and the cross breeze between the two open windows would freshen it the rest of the way. “Maybe open the windows next time.”

“I think that’s wise counsel, mighty Lotmeag!” Argus laughed.

The old mage was not from Galium, originally. He had lived in the great dwarven city of Kalimandir in the far south of Tarrine before coming to Galium. Lotmeag found him to be rather odd sometimes, but the mage had been kind to him in most of their interactions and he was often willing to explain things in more detail if the warrior was curious about something.

“Are ye all right?” Lotmeag asked as he watched the old mage lean on a table covered in scrolls and glass containers, catching his breath.

“Oh fine. Just fine,” the mage waved him off the subject. “And you? Are you all right?”

“Yes. It’s an exciting day,” Lotmeag’s eyebrows popped, and a smirk grew across his face, barely visible under thick beard.

“Why’s that?” Argus asked, hungrily. Though Lotmeag was seen as a serious dwarf, for some reason, teasing the old mage’s curiosity brought out a fun, light-hearted side of the warrior. The mage’s eyes grew wide in anticipation as he leaned forward, turning his head slightly as if his ears were waiting to catch some intriguing news.

“I’m gathering a glendon team.”

Lotmeag’s smiled grew even wider. And after a moment, Argus’s chin raised and his expression shifted as realization dawned on him.

“You’re leading the team,” he said approvingly.

“Aye. Felton was chosen, and he accepted the honor.”

“A good choice. He will make a fine garvawk warrior.”

“Aye, agreed. They are preparing for departure. Are ye ready to go?”

“I don’t know…” the mage said slowly, as his face scrunched.

Lotmeag’s heart dropped. They needed the mage. Every glendon team needed a mage. They wouldn’t be successful without one. This was Lotmeag’s first team completely under his leadership, and he may have gathered everyone too early, not having his mage lined up. He wondered how they’d all look at him if he had to tell them that they needed to postpone.

A wry grin crept across Argus’s visage, crinkling the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes.

“Ye’re teasing me…”

“Only because you tease me,” the old mage chuckled. “Let me clean this up. It’s a dangerous combination… clearly.”

The glendon team consisted of Argus, Felton, Lotmeag, and two other garvawk warriors, Dorbin and Kel. The teams were usually this size, as it gave them the ability to capture the garvawk, but they weren’t so many as to give away their positions or cause them to be tripping all over each other in the heat of the capture.

They were taking a break at a mountain creek to water their war-hogs and enjoy some shade underneath the pines. It was funny to Lotmeag how it always felt like such a slow process while riding war-hogs. Obviously, he had gotten quite used to the garvawks flying speed—and maybe he was a little spoiled.

The war-hogs of Galium were well-trained beasts that stood just as high, and higher in some cases, than their dwarven riders. The war-hog cavalry husbanded the creatures and trained them for battle. Many an unlucky goblin had died by a vicious gouging tusk of a Galium war-hog. They were heavy, formidable beasts that had sturdy constitutions and surprising quickness on the battlefield. Of course, their speed was determined by the terrain that they traversed, which gave garvawks a distinct advantage.

Nonetheless, the glendon team was making good progress. Lotmeag patted the war-hog that was loaned to him for the trip. Its name was Grub. He thought it a funny name, but the cavalry dwarf had explained to him that when the war-hog was born, it had looked like a giant grub. A disgusting picture in Lotmeag’s mind. But Grub was of good temperament and rode easily for the garvawk warrior. He was glad for it.

They couldn’t fly on garvawk back because each garvawk was connected to a dwarven warrior. It was a difficult process, and attempting to change a garvawk’s connection was cumbersome, and in some instances, dangerous. That meant that, while Lotmeag, Dorbin, and Kel would be able to ride, Argus and Felton wouldn’t. War-hog was the traditional steed of such hunts, and it proved wise for this one like so many before it.

“So, the miners found this one?” Argus asked, leaning next to the creek and refilling his water skin.

“Aye. They opened up a new cavern of the Deep Mines, but this one led to the surface. They spotted claw marks near the edge of the cave opening along with some scat.”

“They haven’t seen the creature?” Dorbin asked.

“No. As soon as they saw the signs, they drew back the whole crew. No one wants to anger a garvawk by intruding on its territory.”

“No.” Dorbin agreed.

“Near an open cave… Sounds te me that we might have a nightcrawler on our hands,” Kel reasoned.

“Aye,” Lotmeag agreed. “We’ll set up in the small valley near the cave and wait for it to come out at night for feeding. Then, we’ll be able to put eyes on the creature.”

The other garvawk warriors agreed. Felton took everything in, trying to learn all that he could during this hunt. He would be a garvawk warrior, should everything go accordingly, and these were things he thought he should know.

Lotmeag stood up and patted Grub on the side of his big shaggy shoulder. He looped his water skin on the saddle and pulled an apple out of one of the pouches. He held it in front of the great war-hog who gobbled it happily, its wet snout leaving Lotmeag’s arm sopping. He shook his head and smiled.

“Did they describe the terrain of the valley to you?” Argus asked quietly, pretending to tighten something on Lotmeag’s saddle.

“They did not have much to say about the valley. And I’m not sure I want to capture the beast under open sky, anyway.”

“A lot more dangerous,” Argus continued the warrior’s thought. “You can see them better under open sky, but they are wild and unpredictable. Harder to get them in close.”

“Aye,” Lotmeag scratched at his chin through his thick brown beard. “And if they have room to dive…”

“Right.”

“We’ll see what the area looks like. Then we’ll make our plan.”

Argus didn’t say anything. He pressed his lips together in an approving smile and patted Lotmeag on the shoulder. He would lead this glendon team just fine. And the old mage had great hope for the younger dwarf’s future as a leader of the garvawk warriors.

They loaded back into their saddles. Lotmeag clicked and Grub lurched into motion, leading the group along the creekside and around a bend.

Onward they rode.

While they were still a few miles away from the cave, as marked by the miners, the glendon team set up a makeshift corral for the war-hogs. It would do them no good to bring the war-hogs too close to the garvawk’s home. The creature’s panther-like nose would smell them quickly, and likely find them to be an easy snack while they were penned in. They roped several trees that framed a nice grassy knoll for the war-hogs to enjoy. They put together a pile of fruits and vegetables in the center to keep the hogs focused toward the middle. Most of the time, this sort of pen worked just fine while war-hog riders were out in the mountains on patrol for a few weeks at a time.

The glendon team gathered their packs, double-checked their gear and headed off on foot. They still had several miles of mountain terrain to cover before they made it to the valley with the new cave opening that the miners had discovered. Their heavy boots left deep prints in the mud as they walked along the last bit of creek-side trail. They filled their water skins one more time before heading northeast around a mountain bend. They would have to hustle in order to get to the valley in time to scout it prior to nightfall.

They clambered over craggy ridges and passed through narrow valleys filled with trees. If they were lucky, the valley where the garvawk’s cave was located would be situated below the tree line and the team would have the added advantage of cover. The more they climbed, however, the more Lotmeag worried that they would not be so lucky.

After another couple of hours, they began to descend along a narrow pathway that had been etched by water runoff. Lotmeag shot a glance over to Argus as they descended back into a treed valley. The old mage nodded. This was fortunate.

They came out on another lower ridge that edged the valley like a ring. Dorbin climbed a small hill to the top of an overlook that gave him a view of the entire valley. He turned to Lotmeag and signaled to the team leader that he could see the cave in question. It was a little lower than their current position and carved straight into the side of the mountain that they had just descended.

The rest of the dwarves joined Dorbin atop the lookout point.

“Alright,” Lotmeag started. “The trees in this valley will give us plenty of cover to hide. We’ll need to roll in the mud to mask our scent.”

“Yeah, especially Dorbin,” Kel said.

The dwarves snickered quietly. Lotmeag was glad for their high spirits. A good attitude would help keep them all encouraged if the garvawk proved difficult to capture.

“We’ll set up around the cave, hidden among the trees. Owl calls only. Wait until ye see the creature. No calls before then. Hopefully, the garvawk will leave the cave early for dinner.”

“Are we trying to get into the cave while the beast is away?” Dorbin asked.

“I think that would be the wisest decision,” Argus offered.

“That’s the plan. We’ll wait ‘til the creature’s gone and then we’ll get into the cave.”

“We don’t know if it’s male or female?” Dorbin inquired.

“No. We’ll need to be wary. If there are cubs, we’ll have to abort,” Lotmeag said with a hint of disappointment at the very real possibility. “But the miners left as soon as they realized they were seeing garvawk sign.”

“They wouldn’t have explored further,” Argus reasoned. “They usually get out of the area quickly and report it.”

“Aye,” Lotmeag agreed. “Once we find out if there are cubs or not, we’ll make the call. Getting between a mother garvawk and her babies is not how I want to die. Any of ye?”

They all shook their heads in response.

“Everyone has their nets?” Lotmeag asked.

“Aye.”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Lotmeag answered with an approving nod. “We’ll get ourselves hidden in the cave as best we can and set our trap. If all goes to plan, we’ll catch the beast with our nets, all the netters will hold it down, and Argus will cast the spell to turn it to stone.”

“Right,” Argus agreed. “I’ll mark the garvawk with the rune. Then when I’m done, Felton, you will speak the words to the creature to wake it.”

“Yes, sir,” Felton replied with a determined tip of his head.

Lotmeag smiled at the war-hog rider. He had known Felton for many years and he couldn’t have picked a better dwarf to be joining their ranks. He had a great sense of pride to be the one leading this glendon team and bringing Felton into the brotherhood. He smacked a thick dwarven hand onto Felton’s shoulder and his jaw clinched into a tight grin. “Let’s get to it, then.”

The glendon team spread out after they found a muddy area in the shade of a thick copse of pines. They had covered themselves and checked each other over to ensure that none would get sniffed out by the garvawk. They each made their way slowly toward the cave and found places to hide among the trees. Lotmeag found a nice fallen tree that rested unevenly, leaving a nice tunnel for the dwarf to hide under and watch the cave.

Night was falling quickly now, and the valley was quiet. The high mountain air was chilly, but the hardy dwarves stayed still under their cover. None of them moved or made a sound.

As the sun finally disappeared behind a nearby western peak, leaving orange and pink streaks of light blazing through the partly clouded sky, they heard a noise.

Hoot! Hoo!

Someone had spotted the garvawk. All of them strained to see the beast at the mouth of the cave. Lotmeag wasn’t sure who had signaled the team, but someone had caught sight of the creature. And then they all saw it.

Roooaaarr!

The mighty cry of the garvawk was an awe-inspiring sound. The giant black cat stepped out under the darkening night sky. It stretched its wide bat-like wings and roiled its back, popping several vertebrae and then shaking out its sleep. It padded a few steps forward before flapping its wings and lifting off into the night.

The glendon team watched the great cat fly away over a ridge to the north, silently giving thanks that it had not gone over the ridge to the south where their war-hogs had been penned. Still no one moved, all waiting for the signal.

Lotmeag took a deep breath, cupped his hands over his mouth, and let out a loud, “Hoot! Hoo!”

It didn’t take the team long to reconvene at the entrance to the cave. Lotmeag waved Dorbin and Kel down a passage on the left, while he and Felton searched one to the right. Argus explored a nearby alcove just to make sure they didn’t miss anything. After ten minutes of searching, another owl call sounded and echoed off of the stone walls. Dorbin and Kel had found the garvawk’s den.

Lotmeag, Felton, and Argus caught up to the two garvawk warriors. “What have ye got?” Lotmeag asked.

“This looks to be the den,” Kel answered.

“Good low ceilings. Lots of stalactites,” Dorbin added.

“Yes. And plenty of pillars for us to hide behind,” Argus offered.

Lotmeag took a second to survey the area and confirm the report. They were right, of course. The three of them had been on plenty of glendon teams and he trusted their judgment.

“Alright, then,” he spoke to the team in hushed tones. “Argus, ye’ll go to the back of the cavern and hide there. If we’re lucky, the beast will come back with a fresh kill in its mouth and won’t be able to smell us. Then we’ll jump out and net him.”

“Make sure yer hooks aren’t twisted,” Dorbin said to Felton.

“Aye,” Lotmeag agreed. “Once we’ve got it netted, Argus will join us and turn the beast to stone.”

Each of the dwarves was assigned a pillar or stalagmite to hide behind. They chose them specifically so that they might surround the garvawk.

Lotmeag checked the hooks on the corners of his net. The nets all had hooks on each corner and stone weights on each side. Ideally, the netters would each get their nets over the garvawk. The hooks on each net would catch the other nets and create a tangled mess while the weights helped to shape the net around the beast. Each net also had a woven rope that, when pulled, would tighten the net even more. It sounded rather complicated to those who’d never been on a glendon team, but after many years of success, the garvawk warriors had gotten pretty good at the practice. Having four netters usually helped too; because inevitably, one of the nets would not hook. But usually, three was enough for the catch.

Lotmeag leaned around his pillar to look at Felton. He gave the dwarf a proud, excited smile and an approving nod. As long as nothing went wrong, Felton would be part of the garvawk warrior brotherhood by the end of the night.

Several hours went by while they waited in the garvawk den. The night had grown even darker outside, but the dwarves’ eyes had adjusted quite well to the dim of the small cavern. The pure adrenaline that pumped through their veins because of anticipation made them hot and caused them to sweat more than they liked.

And then it came.

Rrrrr…

A growl rang out through the tunnels and into the den. It was not a vicious growl but more a satisfied, victorious grumble.

Lotmeag froze. Every muscle in his body tensed.

In walked the garvawk.

The great cat’s wings stretched and furled several times as it padded toward the middle of the den. In its mouth, the beast dragged a large portion of some creature that hadn’t stood a chance against the predator. A mountain goat? Lotmeag guessed. It was just as he had hoped. The garvawk had eaten its fill, hopefully making it slower and restricting its reaction time. But also, the beast had brought back a significant portion of its meal and couldn’t smell the hidden dwarfs.

The garvawk dropped the mangled meat on the floor of the den and licked at its claws, trying to clean itself. The great black cat shook its fur and its wings vibrated as it stretched itself out into a relaxed position on the stone floor. The beast seemed quite content with its situation, having had a successful hunt this night.

The dwarves hidden around the chamber stood motionless, poised for their attack.

Lotmeag took in a silent but deep breath.

“Hoo!”

It was as if everything in the chamber moved in slow motion. Each of the dwarves jumped out from behind their hiding places, turning to face the garvawk. In only a split second, the great cat jumped into the air, trying to unfurl its bat-like wings. Unfortunately for the garvawk, the surprise had caught it so off guard that it hit several stalactites and fell to the ground again.

The dwarves took the opportunity and launched their nets. Each net hit the garvawk as it writhed and scratched, its wings flapping wildly as it tangled itself deeper in the knotted mess.

“I’ll be a bearded gnome!” Kel cursed. His net hadn’t caught on with the others.

“Re-throw! Re-throw!” Lotmeag hollered over the garvawk’s hissing and roars.

The dwarves pulled their ropes, tightening the nets as Kel did his best to throw his tangled net over the garvawk again.

The beast heaved itself awkwardly and lunged out at Felton, swiping a great gash across the dwarf, ripping into his shoulder between the armor plates.

“Arghh!” Felton cried, dropping his line.

Lotmeag’s eyes went wide. Three netters could usually hold a garvawk, but not two. The great cat tried to jump and escape with a renewed ferocity.

“Felton! Grab hold of yer line!” Lotmeag screamed at him.

Felton, having gotten past the initial shock of the garvawk’s attack, ran headlong at the beast. He charged straight into the great cat with his good shoulder, toppling it over with another roar. The dwarven warrior rolled away, grabbing his line as he did in a rather acrobatic move.

“Argus!” Lotmeag yelled as Kel also managed to get his tangled net hooked atop the garvawk.

The old mage stepped out from behind a pillar near the back of the den and raised his scepter. Magic had already begun swirling around him before he appeared, ready for his part. He swung the scepter forward, lobbing a ball of mystical energy that slammed into the furious garvawk. The great cat roared even louder. But soon, it stopped fighting. Its roars turned into angry mews like a giant barn cat. It did not know what was happening, but its body was getting harder to move. Stone crept up the limbs of the garvawk, engulfing its hind quarters and up to the tips of its wings. As the stone slowly enveloped the great cat running up its neck toward its head, the creature let out one more confused cry.

Finally, the garvawk sat as an awkward statue underneath the tangled mess of nets.

“Well done,” Argus congratulated the team. “Very well done. She’s beautiful.”

“Felton,” Lotmeag hurried to the dwarf’s side, inspecting his bloody armor. “Are ye all right?”

“Just a scratch,” he replied with a smile. “I suppose she knew we’d be marking her and thought it fair to mark me, too.”

Lotmeag’s worry contorted into an amused grin. He patted Felton on the shoulder, who winced.

“Oh! Sorry!” Lotmeag said quickly with a chuckle.

Argus walked up to the stone garvawk as the others cut away the netting and Felton untied the saddle that he had lashed to his back. The old mage waved his fingers over his scepter, mumbling some incantation that the others did not know. Argus’s hand began to glow, and he extended his index finger out, writing a runic symbol onto the stone garvawk’s shoulder. Kel helped Felton situate the saddle, a rather difficult task with the creature petrified at such an odd angle.

Once everything was ready, Felton took a stance right in front of the garvawk, while the rest of the dwarves resumed their hiding spots. The glendon team always did this to ensure that the garvawk’s warrior would be the first one it saw.

“You remember the words?” Argus called from his hiding spot, watching Felton stand before the stone creature.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then it is yours to say.”

Felton took a step forward, inspecting the garvawk for a moment. He pressed his thick dwarven fingers into the crease of his shoulder and rubbed at the blood on his fingers. He chuckled to himself and refocused on the garvawk. He leaned in close and whispered, “Elocet niol.”

The stone fell away from the great cat as it stretched its wings and adjusted itself into a standing position on all four of its paws. It looked at Felton with mild confusion, but sat calm before the dwarf. Felton reached his hand up and the garvawk twitched slightly.

“It’s alright, now,” Felton told her. “Yer with me now, and I’ll protect ye.”

He brushed the garvawk’s panther-like head and scratched around its ear.

The garvawk purred.

The others revealed themselves as Felton mounted up in the saddle. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing ye at home then.”

“Aye, we’ll see ye there,” Lotmeag nodded.

Felton and his garvawk walked to the exit of the cave, the others not far behind, and launched off into the night sky.

Argus patted Lotmeag on the shoulder. “Well done.”

“Well done, everyone,” Lotmeag replied. “We’ve got a new brother among the warriors!”

The glendon team leader stood on the ledge overlooking the mountain valley bathed in the moonlight. Felton would return home to Galium and the garvawk warriors would celebrate his arrival like they had done with every other warrior that joined their ranks.

Lotmeag, Argus, Dorbin, and Kel would walk the several miles back to the war-hogs. There, Grub and the others would be waiting for them. The dwarves would ride the rest of the night and get home sometime the next day.

Part of him wished that the night would never end. He was overwhelmed with emotion. He had led his first geldon team, and they had successfully caught a garvawk and brought a new brother into their ranks. He wasn’t sure if there was any greater feeling than the one he experienced now.

This had been a good hunt.