Hishik BW XXXVII

A song comes to Hishik as he slips into a dream:

What of the light, the sun, its faded

just as the crystal is spread and jaded?

But what of the sword, its platinum plates

to steer Destiny, thee of shapes?

My Lady would not change easily,

as you weave the crystal freely.

But don't you see that we are set

with the glow of the sword Regret.

But life, for you, would slip away

if you were given the sword Decay,

But Destiny, whom knows one true,

Would give this crystal to so few.

For some of us, the light would shine

to radiate off our decline,

While the crystal is built, its many facets,

who of us can change the sets?

The platinum though, seems threatening,

but to some it’s of a dream,

And Destiny, whom beside we walk

will show us the sword and whom we stalk.

Be them with this platinum sword

to pace beside a foe so near,

Or be it with the crystal matrix,

To path our future, forever fixed.

“Well, we can go no further here,” whispered a dwarf, who was just visible to Hishik even though his eyes were already adjusted to the dark. His red hair was tied back and plaited, threaded with silver ribbons that hung down his back. His small helm was beautifully made - a simple dome with cheek and neck guards - it was ornately decorated with a scene of a mountain range where dwarven kings stood proud. His burnished mithril chain coat was studded with emeralds, over which a breast plate of burnished gold had been drawn, carved in the shape of a large tear drop. His cloak was fine blue cloth, trimmed with ermine and embroidered with a depiction of a barn owl. His legs were covered by riding britches of hard leather onto which had been fastened thigh and shin guards, both highly decorated and studded with gems. His boots, though pliable enough for riding, were armoured. His axes were across his back and he carried a crossbow. At his sides were full quivers, slung like bandoliers.

“Perhaps we should return?” asked a second dwarf who stood behind the first in the cramped passageway. This younger dwarf’s beard was as red as the first’s but less well kempt; he was taller than the average of his kind but slenderer. His hair was also long and red as fire, plaited in part and interwoven with gold wire on which multi-coloured beads were threaded. His gently glowing armour was beautifully crafted and, despite its significant protection, did not look cumbersome. His helmet was obviously Norse – little more than a bowl through which a ram’s horns had been poked. Hishik could plainly see his blue, overly-large eyes which seemed to give him a permanent expression of curiosity; these orbs were fixed between pronounced cheek bones and a round-bulbous nose. Instead of an axe, he carried a two-handed sword, nearly taller than he. This second dwarf smiled as he spoke, clearly teasing the first, “or surrender?”

It appeared to Hishik that these dwarves had been travelling for a long time and had seen much battle. Their water flasks, that hung from their sides like bandoliers, were nearly empty; their furs and armour were caked in a mass of blood and grime. Images of the dwarfs’ recent past sprung into Hishik’s mind:

“Let us stand firm brother and become the force that makes legends! Take the battle to the enemy – let us make them think twice about coming south for the winter – drive them back to their bleak and dreary lairs, untouched by the sun’s watery gaze…” The younger dwarf put an arm over his brother’s shoulder and, leading him towards his riding winter wolf, pronounced, “To arms Lord Enrodir, ‘tis time we taught the Gith a lesson!”

The moon was full and rode high over the down-land where they had assembled a winter wolf cavalry. The stars shone brightly, oblivious to the odd smudge of cloud that hung in the night sky. The night was cold and the grass covered in a crisp layer of frost. Here and there patches of mist filled in the dead ground, flattening the otherwise rolling landscape. What wind there was had a bite to it. Using flags and gestures the mounted dwarfs rode off, careful to limit their noise but moving with reasonable haste nonetheless. As they departed, Hishik saw crossbowmen moving into position behind cleverly constructed defences, so well camouflaged that only their movement distinguished them from the surrounding terrain.

In the light of pre-dawn, the dwarves crested a ridge and looked down into the valley below. Their approach had not been unnoticed. The Gith had drawn up infantry and archers in ranks and were marching up the slope towards the dwarf cavalry. From each of the enemy’s flanks came medium cavalry and horse archers looking to close swiftly. Behind the assembled mass, more of the foul creatures hurried to join battle. Mounted dwarven crossbowmen fired their first volley into the ranks of the Gith infantry, setting many alight and creating brief pools of fire that melted the frost, revealing blackened grass beneath. Their shots, however, did not go unanswered and the dwarves suffered their first casualties.

Adopting a wedge quickly, the dwarves elected to strike at the periphery, allowing a brief cavalry engagement and more fire to rain down on the Gith. The noise was deafening: the barking of the wolves; dwarves shouting encouragement in maddened voices; all mixed with the screams of the dying. With cold wind burning his cheeks, the dwarf leader filled his lungs and screamed, “Do now what yea have promised me! Do now that dreadful deed that would save us from eternal damnation and slavery! Kill them swiftly then ride before them like the wind so our brothers can enjoy the continued demise of the Gith on this terrible day! For Thor!”

Suddenly, the leader engaged the enemy directly, the explosive shock of high speed combat echoed to the highest mountains. Their splendid array of colours shimmered in the early morning sunlight (that now peeped through the gap between broken horizon and cloud): purples, indigoes and violets - the main themes in the enemy’s dark montage – facing blue, green, white, silver and gold. The dwarfs’ steeds, white as snow, snarled and growled as they ran, eyes widened – black with anger - ears pinned back. The pale skins of the Gith clashed with their dark garb making them appear almost luminous. The contrast could not be starker between two opposing forces.

Axe blow after axe blow struck deep into those unfortunate enough to cross paths with the dwarves. The silver sickle-shaped edges of their axes flash wildly, cutting down many at first contact, throwing great spouts of their dark red blood into the air. The smell of sweat, blood and metal filled Hisik’s nostrils and the deafening roar of battle threatened to put pay to all rational thought. Then he is brought back to the dark chamber…

“Fuck off, brother! Think will thee?!”

“Now, now…Squeeze over, and let me see.” The armour the younger dwarf wore burst into a silvery light, as he pushed his way past. They stood in a narrow passage, carved from smooth black rock, which was only just high enough for the dwarves to stand upright. Hishik could see a line of dwarves in precession down the corridor, all similarly armed and armoured.

They faced a much wider cavern, in the centre of which was a large tomb surrounded by eight expertly-carved black statues. The lower half of each was human, but the upper torso varied considerably; each had a different head – canines, birds beasts the like of which Hishik had never seen before. The cavern’s ceiling was hundreds of feet above the tomb; shot through with tiny holes, it appeared to be the only source of light (other than the dwarf’s armour). Most mysteriously there was no floor – the room was bottomless as far as Hishik could see. The tomb appeared to float.

“Ahh, we are proper fucked this time.”

“Thanks for your considered opinion, brother.”

At that point, Hishik heard voices which did not seem to be part of this vision – they are distant, disembodied and clearly not in context:

“Come into the light, leave your cruel mother; we will look after you.”

“But you will kill me for what I have done.”

“We know that you have been defiled; Elwe’s folk are strong and you have been through much.”

“Oh, why am I so forsaken? Where do I belong?”

“With us, my sister. You are from the house of Erewen, daughter of Elwe, sister of Amradire the father of Aerandir. Your blood is true – few could have survived the attentions of our enemy for so long.”

“Amradire chose another path; why am I so lost?”

“His path was true - a calling of love so pure…Not one corrupted and spoilt by doubt and loathing. He did not love you, he used you”

“No! Why would he use me?”

“He is the enemy.”

Shaking involuntarily, Hishik dis not wake, instead his dream continued:

“There seem to be gold bowls in the laps of each of the figures, what does that mean?” asked the younger dwarf, still staring into the room.

“How the fuck would I know?”

“You have brought us through similar devices so far…”

“Well, I can’t now brother, I am spent.”

“Oh, that’s great. What the fuck do we do now?”

“Well, we can’t go on…”

“Yes, you said…Hold on, I might be able to jump onto the tomb…” the tall, slender dwarf shifted his weight from front to rear foot and back again as though practicing.

“Don’t be an arse, you’ll fall, and we will be no further. No, on second thoughts, be my guest – more rations for the rest of us.”

“Shut up. Give me a push – I’m sure I can do it.”