The Tale of Amberley Bloodstar Ch. 02

I bought bottles of gem wine, imported from the Elven kingdoms across the sea, and ate the best foods that Arristheon had to offer. I got caught fucking both the son and the daughter of a prominent nobleman, who shook in impotent rage, lest I let his children's shameful secret out. I visited brothels and stews, spreading my money around, until my name was spoken in every corner of the capital, from the dirtiest streets to the most sacred chapels within the royal palace. My name, reputation, and sometimes infamy grew, within the span of four days. I was more than a little impressed with myself, I had to admit, because I was no stranger to hedonism.

On the morning of the fifth day, I was riding quietly to the city's eastern gates, accompanied by Rulim, who was walking with a sturdy pony that carried many supplies. I had packed everything I needed carefully, and paid the innkeep well to make sure my room remained inviolate until my return. He was only too happy to oblige.

"That was quite the celebration you had these past few days," my travelling companion remarked, looking up at me as we passed through the gate and beyond the walls of Arristheon. The sun was still in the east as we headed toward the distant, dark silhouettes of mountains in another realm. The Black Hills Kingdom. "Do you have the excitement out of your body?"

"I read that contract," I said casually as I rode along, looking to the east. "If I am to die, Master Dwarf, I do not wish to regret my last days in this life. And I can say with sincerity that I don't."

"Good," he said, nodding his head. "For none of us wish to die, but I cannot deny the possibility of it, even for you."

I smiled lightly. "It is one thing to be killed; all I hope is that I will not get myself killed. There is a difference, after all."

"Fair enough," he allowed. "I daresay this will be different than any concept you have of war, my dear. Just keep that in mind, and I am willing to bet that your imagination will not exceed the reality of it."

We kept a steady pace, stopping only occasionally to rest. I found it intriguing that the road we took seemed well-travelled by Dwarves, and Rulim seemed to feel no concern for his safety. For two nights we camped on the side of the road, but we found ourselves joined by other Dwarven travellers. I was intrigued to notice that some of those heading to the Black Hills Kingdom were rather rough and doughty types (even for Dwarves) and seemed to be carrying weapons and armour.

Rulim seemed perfectly content to introduce me and announce my purpose in accompanying him. Not surprisingly, this led to calls for me to sing and entertain, something I was only too happy to do, since I would have been practicing if I had been by myself in any event. One young dwarf was training to be a bard, and we sang together and he even taught me some specific Dwarven modes of scales and music.

I also tried Dwarven ale for the first time.

***

I rubbed at my eyes and tried not to moan loudly as I rode, the movement of my horse aggravating the world's incessant spinning. The pounding in my head was what I imagined Dwarven forges must sound and feel like.

"My Lady," I murmured, wiping at my cheeks with my palms to conceal the involuntary tears of pain. "If you have any love for me, take me now and end this wretched suffering."

"I did warn you to stop after the first flagon," Rulim said somberly as he walked alongside me, still leading his pony. "Even for Dwarves, that particular brew is potent."

"Ugh, I don't remember a damn thing after the first drink," I mumbled. "How many more did I have?"

"Oh, just one more," he replied. "I'm thinking another might have killed you. You're an impressive drinker, for a female human."

"I didn't make an ass of myself, did I?" I asked warily, looking out from between my fingers with one eye to see him. It was all I could manage.

Rulim considered. "That's a rather ... subjective question. We were amused by your antics, suffice to say. No, you didn't get naked, do not worry."

"I rarely consider that undignified," I muttered before trying not to retch loudly. "So ... what did I do?"

"Well, you did spend several minutes cackling and singing in a very uneven voice, 'I am a Dwarf and I'm digging a hole! Diggy, diggy hole, diggy, diggy hole!"

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "They're not mad at me, are they?"

He chuckled finally. "My dear, many of these men are coming with us to try and take the Halls of Kirsumir. And many of them will die. A good laugh about being a Dwarf might be all that's left to them. No, they're not mad, Amberley. You might have endeared yourself to more than a few."

With bleary eyes, I gazed out toward the east, toward the mountains that drew ever closer.

The Black Hills Kingdom was nigh.

***

I was already making verses in my head as I stared in awe at what lay before me. This Dwarven realm, little more than a remnant of the kingdom it had once been, began with a giant door carved into the side of a low, worn mountain. I'd heard tell and tales of the Dwarf cities, but to see one with my own eyes truly left me in awe. Sheer, shaped rock from the mountain sprang into towers that peered down on us. Few beings of any sort could be seen, yet I sensed we were being watched nonetheless.

Anyone who knows a Dwarf will say that they are a dour people, given to occasional bouts of jovial behaviour. But they most often look as grim as the rock that legend says they were first carved from. On either side of the huge, arched door that led into the realm, a Dwarf warrior waited, and part of me was terrified, I will admit.

The warriors who now stood before us silently were wearing heavy armour, carved with runes and sigils, or images of deadly animals. Dark eyes peered out from beneath stout helmets, and in their gauntleted hands they held deadly axes. From their backplates sprang tall poles that carried the banner of the Black Hills Kingdom. They seemed immovable to me, and I had trouble picturing even a dragon besting them in their shining steel protection.

We stood before them now, a small caravan of some fifty Dwarves, and myself. The warriors guarding the door peered at me for several seconds, before Rulim stepped forward and spoke to them in their strange, guttural language and showed them our contract. The warriors nodded and the mighty doors that towered over us silently began to open inward. Rulim nodded to me and I dismounted before we headed inside.

I was spellbound. I had not inquired that deeply of Rulim about what to expect, but I had heard much the same as anyone else in the outer world had: carved rock, cavernous rooms and the like. The rumours did the truth no justice. Endless braziers and great torches lit the anteroom before us, the ceiling a good hundred feet overhead. Ornate pillars lined the hall, which was clearly a mustering point as well as a reception area. Tiny threads of crystal glittered through the pillars and walls, while the floor was carved into diamond-shaped tiles, each one set with a coloured stone in the center of an intricate design.

"Not what you expected, I see," Rulim mused, looking at me. "Might I ask what you were expecting?"

I thought about that for a moment. "The scale impresses me, certainly. I expected the artistry, although I have no words for it yet. But mostly, it is... much brighter than I had anticipated."

He chuckled. "We Dwarves can see in the darkness, though fire has always been our friend and light a great gift. You will not find a suffocating darkness in this place, Amberley. Now come, let us stable your horse and then we must go."

I made the stable attendants promise to take care of my horse until my return and then accompanied Rulim in and the other Dwarves into the city, my gear and equipment I had brought following us in a cart. I carried only my most important belongings, with my instruments on my back and my knives on my belt.

My neck might be sore later, but I looked around intently as we walked. I wanted to remember everything I saw, because who would know how it factored into the stories and songs I wrote? Rulim did not speak much, if he felt inclined to explain what I was seeing, because he could tell I was busy already. There would be time for explanations later. What counted was my impressions, for now.

To think I was walking beneath a mountain now, it seemed unreal. Were it not for the scale of what surrounded me, I might have thought we were just walking down the hallways of a grand castle. The stories of the Dwarves were carved into the walls in long frescoes, the designs and style seeming to change along the way. I assumed it was with age. Even the youngest Dwarven holds were usually thousands of years old at their origin.

I wasn't exactly certain of what the walls were saying, because it seemed couched in Dwarven allegory to me, with which I have no familiarity. But if I was correct, the scenes we passed told of the founding of the Black Hills Kingdom- its rise, its days of glory, and then its waning. I assumed the cruder, more recent frescoes related the latter. Rulim had intimated to me that Drozzir-Karak, the current seat of their power, had once been the holdings of a minor lord who was given the task of "guarding" the border with the kingdoms of Men. With the mighty Halls of Kirsumir, the original seat of power for the Dwarven king, in enemy hands, it struck me how far these people had declined in the centuries that followed.

Torches lit our way, the orange light casting the upper parts of the tall walls into shadow. We passed intersections that led in other directions, often on gradients to what I assumed were other levels. Statues and other images in stone towered over us, the oldest ones worn smooth or even crumbling with age. They were not detailed, the way Men crafted statues; the facial features were all rudimentary and generic, at least to me. But there was an overwhelming sense of power and individuality to them all the same. The armour each effigy wore was shaped differently, the runes they bore unique. Each one was a king or great lord, and these statues spoke with a timeless power and elegance any bard could only dream of matching.

Very often, I could distantly hear the roar of bellows and the ring of hammers - the famed forges of the Dwarven realms. I thought of the stout armour or keen weapons they might have been making. I pictured giant smelters and rivers of red, flowing metal. I wondered if it could be as grand as I imagined. After all, everything else so far had been.

"Not to boast, my dear, but what you see around you is but a pale reflection of the great Dwarf realms in their heyday," Rulim said finally, as if reading my mind. "The Black Hills are sadly but a minor holding, its glory lying in days past. That is one of the reasons we seek this war now and to retake what was ours. If we succeed, it will change the way you perceive us entirely."

I could only guess that we had passed through what would be considered industrial or utilitarian areas earlier, because now we began to see tall galleries, threaded with ramps and lined with rows of what looked like apartments to me - individual residences of the Dwarves of the mountain realms. I don't think I'd ever devoted any serious thought before to how a Dwarf lived or what their homes were like. It struck me as odd.

The gallery led to yet another hall, this one lacking doors, although clearly there had been rather imposing ones at some point in the distant past. This, I now understood, was the court of the lord of the Black Hills, the Thane Brungor Frostbrand. We walked down the hall now, approaching the dais and chair that sat upon it at the back of the space. By subtle tricks of engineering, the walls around us closed in gradually, giving the person upon the throne the image of being much larger than they were as the walls narrowed near the back of the hall. The stout figure sat still on the stone chair, hands planted on the armrests and observing our approach. Guards in armour once again lined the way, standing silently.

Our group stopped a few paces from the dais and I know noticed that old Ummikal was with the thane. He too watched us, his hands behind his back. Thane Brungor, his dark brown beard threaded with grey and worn in two plaits that fell to his lap, finally grunted and nodded as Rulim bowed.

"My lord, we have come as bidden, your kin from the realm of the Miral Kingdom," Rulim intoned, speaking in the language of local Men, I assume for my benefit.

"Well met, kinsman," rumbled the figure on the throne, also using the human tongue. "It has been too long. I pray, is this as many as we could gather?"

"Aye, lord," my companion said. "Some fifty who are fit to serve in this endeavour. What news from the other holds?"

"A few volunteers, nothing more than that," the thane said sourly. "As we expected, we will be on our own for the most part. More's the loss for them, for when we take back Kirsumir, what lies within will be ours alone, and there will be no glory for them. So be it."

The thane looked at me now. "And our visitor?"

"The bard we spoke up, my lord," Ummikal stated, leaning in to speak, although we could all hear him. "She has been contracted for the purposes we discussed, and is keen to assist."

Brungor looked at me somewhat curiously, his head tilted slightly. "Your name, girl?"

"Amberley, lord," I replied, bowing now. "Amberley Bloodstar."

He squinted at my words, as if not sure he knew what I meant. "Bloodstar."

"My family is married, lord, into the Bloodstars of En-Loryn," I explained.

He grunted in amusement now. "Damned pitiful shape the world is in when the Elves stop looking down their noses and begin requesting connubial alliances. They'll be asking to marry us next!"

There was general chuckling at his words. I couldn't help but smirk myself, knowing what he meant. Life had been rather strange since our family's binding to the Elves, a generation earlier.

"But that does not reflect on our estimation of you, my good lady," he said in a more conciliatory tone now. "Is it true you have a thyno-ar crystal?"

I reached inside my sturdy clothing and drew out the crystal, still sitting in its silver fittings on a thin chain. It glittered brightly in the hall, like a tiny star. Everyone gazed at it in no small wonder.

Brungor nodded. "They are not unknown to us, though one would never call them common. They are used in great enchantments, often for our forges and tools to shape stone and metal to our needs. Might my Runeweaver have a look at it?"

I nodded and an elderly dwarf stumped toward me from nearby. He was wearing heavy robes and leaning on a staff. Even for a Dwarf, he seemed old to me, with a long, grey beard and a face wrinkled like a walnut. I handed him the crystal and he examined it intently. He finally nodded and looked up at me.

"It will make strings of exceptional quality, my lady. You will be most pleased."

"What are we to do with it, Lady Bloodstar, if, Heavens forfend, you do not return?" asked the thane.

"If it pleases you, thane, I would have it delivered to my family, the Vails, in Furyondy," I replied, bowing again. He may have been only a thane of a small hold, but a Dwarf lord was a Dwarf lord. "They could no doubt make some use of it."

He nodded. "It shall be as you say. Rulim will see to it personally."

Rulim nodded his assent and Brungor slapped his hands on his stout thighs. "Very well, then! There is nothing else to discuss at this point. The muster is tomorrow and we will move out. Find your quarters and rest while you can; the goblin scum will have it out of you soon enough."

The thane rose, and everyone bowed while he stumped off the dais and disappeared through some doors. The Dwarves now dispersed, leaving me with Rulim and old Ummikal, who walked up to us. They guided me down some halls to a guest chamber where I would be staying. Though a single room and made entirely of stone, it was not uncomfortable. With a table and chairs, a stone bed piled with furs, and a large vent that blew in warmed air from unseen bellows, I would certainly be able to make do. It even had a smoothed stone tub to bathe in, if the mood took me.

"Hot air currents pass beneath the tub, warming the stone," Rulim explained. "Open that little trap there in the wall to allow in warm water. You can see the stopper in the bottom there. Food will be along shortly, if you desire it. I would avoid any more ale, though."

"No argument there," I said dryly.

He smiled. "We depart in sixteen hours. Be ready for muster in twelve. Be well, Amberley, for none of us know how far beyond tomorrow we might live."

I bowed to them and I closed the door as they retired to their own quarters. The candles around my room gave it a surprisingly warm glow, given that it was hewn, grey stone. The floor was not cold, even where great skins and rugs did not cover it. I put down my equipment and stripped out of my belt and armaments.

Some minutes later, there was a knock and food had arrived - roast mutton, simple root vegetables, and a goblet with a bottle of wine, imported from Arristheon. I smiled at the precaution. Clearly word had gotten out. I ate my meal and then decided how to dispose of my time. I didn't need more than six hours' sleep, leaving me plenty with which to amuse myself.

Occupy myself. Yes, that was more like it. Distract myself, even. Thoughts came to me unbidden, a sudden, weighty sense of what lay ahead. My Dwarven hosts were serious about this matter. It was no light undertaking for them. It occurred to me that they expected this to be a costly endeavour, and enough of them would die that they wanted the lands beyond their realm to know about this heroic deed and sacrifice.

If they were so certain to die, how was I to survive?

I wasn't employed to fight, although by that token, there were also no specifics about their obligation to defend me, either. I'd seen goblins and orcs a few times before, but always as prisoners and slaves, and always from a distance. Now they were to be my enemies. I didn't see how I could avoid fighting, because if I were to write glorious songs, I needed to be in the thick of things, didn't I?

I blinked and found I had stripped down to nothing and was letting hot water sluice into the stone basin. I guess I'm having a bath, I thought. I pulled my golden hair out of the braid I'd been wearing it in and settled into the water, sighing as the tension of travel seeped slowly from my muscles. I rested a small pillow behind my head and relaxed, the unusual aroma of the mountain waters soothing me.

It would be a good death, I promised myself. It would not be one of fear and flight. No, with the Goddess watching on, if I were to meet my end, I would do so facing my foe, making sure that songs were sung in Her presence about my valour. Death would be no end for me.

I began slowly caressing my hands up my body. My eyes fluttered open and I noticed a small phial sitting in a depression in the rim of the stone. I pulled out the tiny stopper and sniffed, noting a heady, pleasant aroma of herbs and oils. I drizzled it into my water, feeling it on my skin. It tingled, and I smiled slyly, knowing what this sensation was and how to take care of it.

While a lover (or lovers) was always a welcome treat, what true sybarite didn't know how to pleasure themselves to great satisfaction? My legs gently glided open and one hand snaked down and cupped my pussy, while the other began massaging my breasts. I moaned quietly as I tended to my needs, the warm, oiled and scented water holding me in a sensual embrace.

I sighed in pleasure as my fingers moved up and down my netherlips, gently stimulating me. My other fingers squeezed my breasts and pulled on my nipples, the tingling sending thrills through me. I squirmed under my own touch, my mind slowly floating away on currents of delight.