AFTER PENELOPE’S reaction, Farrell planned to inform his brothers himself, but Nerti told him it wouldn’t be necessary. The peregrines had been recruited to assist the Ze’arderian generals with aerial surveillance. They put up a token resistance at being asked to remain behind and readily acquiesced when Nerti “insisted.”
With one fewer group to worry about, Farrell sought an audience with Amelt Randgar. Randgar’s initial insistence on several companies to guard them evaporated when Miceral asked if he’d cleared the decision with Seritia. Rather than send troops out of the city when an attack was imminent, Randgar helped supply them for the journey and wished them well.
The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon when they exited Agloth’s only gate. Beginning at Seritia’s city, the Eastern Trade Road struck due east on its two-thousand-mile trek to the Delmun Ocean. Across the burning sands, there was no shade or cover until it reached the ancient kingdoms that populated the more temperate and fertile lands beyond the wide savannah. Under different circumstances, Farrell would have liked to examine the spells used to keep the road—and the one they’d taken from the north—free of sand. Instead, he needed to focus on protecting himself and Miceral.
Nerti and Klissmor thundered out of the city and raced for the crossroad that would take them south. Farrell closed his eyes and wove the protective spells around them. “You and Klissmor need to stay within ten feet of each other to remain inside the protective area.”
“Understood.”
They slowed briefly at the intersection of the two trade routes so the unicorns could stay close enough together. Once they’d completed the turn, the pair accelerated to full speed. The monotony of the sand gave Farrell little of interest to watch. He struggled to keep the focus needed to maintain the two spells that protected the small group. Twice Nerti alerted him as he nearly let sleep overtake him.
The unicorns ran side by side all day, stopping only for brief rests. Klissmor kept close to his mate, never straying outside the boundaries of Farrell’s protection, which made keeping them safe and hidden easier. Still, the strain wore at Farrell until he decided to halt for the day, even though Nerti and Klissmor didn’t show signs of needing a break.
They’d exited the desert a couple of hours earlier and were able to find a semisheltered campsite near a small hill. While Farrell set the protections around the camp, Miceral hovered, stepping in to do any task that didn’t require magic. Farrell almost snapped at his partner, but Nerti stopped him.
“He has nothing to do at this time. Your magic protects us as Klissmor and I carry you toward your goal. Allow him to feel useful. Perhaps if you rest a bit more, I won’t need to wake you so often tomorrow.”
Too tired to argue, Farrell sat to the side as Miceral made fast work of setting up camp. After he saw to the unicorns’ meal, he set out their food. The cold dinner of smoked chicken, cheese, and bread held little appeal. Miceral didn’t ask him to warm it up, so they ate it cold. No one said much while they ate, and once they’d finished, Farrell crawled into the tent and went to sleep.
The second day’s ride felt much like the first to Farrell. If asked, the only way he could differentiate between the days was they spent more of day one in the desert. But they made good time, and based on the first day’s ride, Farrell was able to decrease the size of their protective area. While only a couple of feet smaller, the reduced effort allowed them to ride until the last bit of light faded. Still, by the time they stopped, he barely had the energy to eat before going to sleep.
Another cold meal welcomed Farrell to the third day of their ride. Nerti woke him before the sun fully rose.
“We must reach the edge of the dwarves’ territory before nightfall.” Nerti’s voice interrupted his breakfast. “The dwarves will not open their gate to anyone after the sun sets.”
“Is that a realistic goal, or should we plan to arrive tomorrow?” Farrell didn’t know which plan he favored. Two days would be less of a strain, but with Vedric planning to attack Agloth, every day felt precious.
“We should arrive before the sun starts to dip below the horizon. Sooner if we keep our breaks short.”
“Keep us on pace. I’ll manage.” The rest periods provided marginal relief, as they required him to take down one set of spells, erect another, then put back the first ones again before they set off. “Two slightly longer breaks would be better than several shorter ones.”
“We will remember that. Klissmor and I are ready when you are.”
No sooner were the protective spells in place than the white unicorns sped south again at a ground-eating pace.
Midmorning brought them to the end of the flat prairies. The massive snow-covered peaks of the southern mountains in the distance offered a contrast against the cloudless blue horizon.
Fatigue set in sooner than the day before, but Farrell pressed on. This close to their destination, he didn’t want to delay another day. Slowly the mountains drew closer as the hours wore on. Nerti and Klissmor ran as if the hordes of Neblor pursued them, eating up the distance at a pace Farrell didn’t believe possible.
They ended their second break with the sun still closer to its zenith than the horizon, but the extra-long summer days meant they’d arrive well ahead of nightfall. Despite the ample time, Klissmor and Nerti never slowed their pace.
The sun hung low, barely a hand’s span above the ground, when the unicorns slowed their pace.
“We have reached the northern border of Colograd,” Klissmor announced. “From here we must proceed with caution lest we be perceived as invaders.”
“How will they know we are not their enemies?” Miceral asked.
“Unicorns and dwarves have always enjoyed a close relationship,” Nerti answered. “Provided we give them the chance to recognize we are not horses, we will have no problems entering Colograd.”
Farrell perked up when he noted something odd about the landscape. “Those stones have been altered.” He pointed toward a group of rocks that appeared to be randomly placed. “Follow the line out, and you will discern a pattern.”
Miceral looked where Farrell suggested. He stared hard at them for a moment, then turned toward the mountains, and then back to the stones. “It is an outline of the mountain range.”
Nerti bobbed her head without missing a beat. “It marks the edge of the lands Colograd lays claim to.”
The north-south road turned west, running parallel to the towering mountains to the south. At a small stream that Farrell heard before he saw, Nerti turned left, and they left the main road. It took a few paces for him to realize the open ground they’d turned onto was really a cleverly disguised road that followed the winding stream.
They stayed with the path for the better part of an hour before they came to an abrupt halt.
“A company of dwarves approaches,” Klissmor said. “Be ready to greet them properly.”
Sitting quietly, Farrell heard the distant jingle of weapons and armor. The sound quickly drew closer, and it wasn’t long before the dwarves rounded a corner. Walking three across, the heavily armed soldiers marched toward them.
“Do they know we’re here?” Miceral asked Farrell. “I mean, are you still maintaining the invisibility spell?”
“Before we set off today, I modified our spells at Nerti’s request to allow the dwarves to see us.”
“Be silent, both of you.” Nerti’s chastising tone let him know she was angry. “It is considered a terrible insult to speak to your hosts before they have the chance to welcome you. Of course they see us; they are here to welcome us. Do you expect them to hurl greetings from down the road like a bunch of rowdy sailors?”
“Dwarves follow a strict code of personal conduct that is both formal and bothersome,” Klissmor added. “It might be best to speak little unless you are answering a question or you have been invited to speak. Remember to acknowledge all words of welcome and to return those greetings simply and without flowery words.”
“Understood.” Farrell dismounted and stowed his staff on his back. Leaving one hand on Nerti’s back, he stood to her right between her and the river.
“What are you doing?” Miceral asked.
“I thought it might seem less threatening if I’m not mounted.”
Miceral nodded and hopped onto the ground. He took a position to the left of Klissmor. Together they watched the company march up the path until they were about ten yards away. Two figures toward the rear of the column walked around the left side of the soldiers. Leading the pair was an older dwarf with a long, white beard gathered at the end by a jewel-encrusted gold ring. He had a war hammer in his right hand and a shield strapped to his back. The second dwarf wore the gray robe of a priest of Khron and carried a four-foot wooden staff topped with a silver ball. With each step he tapped the end onto the stones with a click. His focus was squarely on Farrell as he walked.
The pair stopped in front of the soldiers. Farrell fought the urge to greet them as the silence dragged on. Finally the priest took a step forward, bowed for a heartbeat, and then stared at Farrell.
“Hail, Chosen of Khron and His Siblings. You honor us with your visit.” The priest’s voice echoed off the rocks.
Almost as one, the company of dwarves dropped to one knee.
“Now you may answer,” Klissmor said.
Trying to remember not to be too flowery, Farrell bowed an appropriate amount. “My lords, you honor us with your greeting. Thank you for the welcome.”
The priest smiled as the officer straightened his belt and snapped to attention.
“On behalf of my liege, King Thrinton, I welcome you all to Colograd. I am General Kwend of the royal army. The king is anxious to greet such noble visitors. Allow us to escort you to his majesty.”
Nerti nudge Farrell forward so he stood in front of Miceral. The soldiers quickly formed ranks, creating an open space around the visitors. Once set, an officer gave a signal, and the column began to march back the way they had come. With their first step, the company burst into song.
“It is a song of welcome reserved for the most important guests,” Nerti said before Farrell could ask.
The pace set by their guards surprised him. Although he didn’t struggle to keep up, Farrell had to lengthen his stride to avoid lagging behind the dwarves in front of him. Worn out from the journey, he regretted dismounting after just a few minutes.
The company rounded a large rock formation and turned away from the river. They kept to the road for another ten minutes, then stopped before the middle of an empty wall. Kwend walked forward and pressed a spot that looked like ordinary rock. The outline of a door appeared in the rock face, and he stepped back. Similar to the ones at Haven, the doors could not be detected when closed. Given the entrance was smaller than Haven’s gates, Farrell surmised this to be a side entrance.
Slowly the door swung outward, and the soldiers resumed their march. Farrell followed their escort into a tunnel that reminded him of the seldom-used corridors that led to Trellham. Once inside the mountain, Farrell dropped the protective spells he’d maintained all day. Exhaustion swept to every part of his body, and only his hand on Nerti’s side prevented him from staggering. A tiny burst of energy flowed from their connection, giving him enough strength to steady himself.
“Are you well, Chosen?”
Farrell turned to his right and found the priest staring at him. “I’m fine, Father, just tired. It’s been a long three days.”
The priest arched a brow. “Surely you rode the entire trip.”
Anger at the implied insult provided Farrell with an adrenaline-fueled jolt of strength. “Father….”
“Surely you have better manners than to insult Khron’s Chosen, Priest.” Nerti turned her gaze on the surprised dwarf. The priest’s flare of anger disappeared instantly when he realized who had spoken. “A wizard may ride all day and use more energy protecting his company with magic than if he used his own feet to run. The Chosen maintained several spells so difficult any one would have taxed the strength of all but the most accomplished wizard. To have successfully maintained so many deserves praise, not foolish questions about his fitness.”
The company stopped walking, and the mood turned tense. If it came to a fight, Farrell didn’t like their chances. “A powerful wizard is interested in our travels. To prevent him from learning we came to visit your king, I had to make absolutely certain we traveled undetected. The effort proved more taxing then I expected.”
“Modesty is a fine trait, Chosen.” General Kwend crossed in front of Nerti, paying close attention to her horn. “Father Aresham meant no insult, but our familiarity with high magic and riding unicorns is limited. He only asked after your health to be certain you were well.”
Kwend glanced at the priest and held the older dwarf’s gaze.
“Yes. Of course, Chosen. I meant no insult to your abilities. My only concern was to be sure you are not injured.”
“My thanks, Father.” Farrell nodded to the elderly dwarf. “I assure you, I’m well enough to make the trip.”
Father Aresham reached up and clasped Farrell’s bicep with his thick, powerful hand. The “gentle shake” felt more like a test than a friendly gesture, but Farrell pretended not to notice.
“Excellent.” When Aresham released his grip, he quickly walked to the head of the column.
Nerti snorted softly. “Well played, Little One.”
“Did you intentionally insult him?”
“Yes.” She twisted slightly until their eyes met. “He challenged you in the way dwarves do. I could not be certain your reply would be appropriate, so I stepped in.”
“Insulting him is an appropriate response?”
“Not if you did it.” She winked and faced forward.
He stifled a laugh. Chuckling to oneself for no apparent reason probably violated some dwarf custom, but it did lift his spirits.
Colograd’s tunnels had three thousand years of extra use and wear than Trellham. The constant grind of untold thousands of heavy-shod feet had worn faint grooves in the stone floor. Dozens of gold and silver statues lined the walls. Some stood in private recessed areas carved into the stone passages, while others had been set in the corridor. Mosaics made from precious and semiprecious stones and flakes depicted epic battles and important times in the history of the dwarves. A recurring feature in many of the statues and artwork they passed was a pair of silver war hammers. Nerti informed him they were part of the coat of arms for the royal house.
After another few minutes of marching, the corridor widened and the light increased. New hallways appeared at odd intervals, where an occasional dwarf would stop in the intersection to allow the company to pass.
Farrell kept his hand on Nerti’s shoulder, drawing strength when he felt unsteady. “What would I do without you, my queen?”
“Fall on your face, no doubt.” Her voice had a playful note that had been absent the last two days.
“No doubt, indeed.”
THE PARTY marched through Colograd, passing corridors into open spaces, then back into long hallways. Some of the chambers they walked through extended hundreds of feet up, others only a few dozen. Each contained buildings both unique and magnificent. Marble walls adored with gold, silver, and precious gems were commonplace. Wood, however, was scarce, appearing only on the biggest, most impressive buildings.
Twenty minutes after they’d entered Colograd, Kwend halted in front of two large stone doors inlaid with a wooden coat of arms. Four soldiers guarded the doors. Each held a long spear in the hand away from the center of the entrance. They showed no sign that they noticed the group.
Their escort broke to either side until Farrell and Nerti stood behind Kwend and Aresham. The entire company stopped, stomped one foot, then the other, and stood at attention. Without warning, the soldiers shouted words in a language Farrell didn’t understand.
“They honor you and Miceral as the Chosen and Servant of Khron. It is the ritual blessing of the dwarves,” Nerti said. “Their words translate to: ‘Hail and well met, honored servants of our Father Khron.’”
Miceral and Klissmor moved up so the four were side by side. As a group, they bowed to the general and priest.
“Faithful servants of most holy Khron, we thank you for your welcome.” Miceral’s choice of words told Farrell that Klissmor had coached him on what to say. “The honor is ours.”
The four guards at the doors stomped the metal butts of their spears on the stone floor and repeated the words of welcome. Silently the doors swung outward. When they had opened enough to see inside, Farrell saw four more guards pushing on the massively thick doors. Farrell peered into the room beyond the entrance and groaned silently.
The chamber on the other side was a cavernous hall. The large palace in the center with its four tall spires made the citadel in Belsport look like a minor lord’s home. Though hard to determine its exact size from where he stood, the space appeared big enough to house the entire palace grounds of Dreth.
Thirty-foot-high walls protected the fortress, and a water-filled moat surrounded the fortress. Light flickered off water cascading down the wall in the far right corner of the chamber. After circling the palace, the water disappeared into the rock face on the left side of the room.
“Amazing.”