The Q'Herindam Read online

  As all things must eventually change Mehgrin.”

  Durhain was always thinking of ways to help those who came to live in their land, some even arriving from over the seas but that was his nature. Mehgrin was of a different vein. Some would say spoilt but by whom? Malicious wasn’t quite it, neither was spiteful but there was something in Mehgrin which delighted in causing mischief. As good and honourable as Durhain was, Mehgrin was nearly his opposite but not in an evil manner. There was no malice. In philosophical terms one could think of light and dark, good and bad and all the other balances which are universal in distribution.

  Mehgrin flew over the land until she found a group of the Hirondae and gradually floated lower over their heads. When they saw her, they bowed low and offered praise to her. Mehgrin lapped it up. The Hirondae seemed so puny but knew her Power when they saw it. Mehgrin was pleased and left them with only a heavy shower of rain rather than the violent thunderstorm she had originally intended.

  Despite what Durhain had said to her about the lands being covered by those who would come later, Mehgrin wanted a place for herself. Well maybe for Durhain too, although he was becoming a little righteous lately.

  No time like the present.

  She rose high into the firmament and gazed down on all of her domain, eventually deciding she liked the strip of land to the west, next to the ocean and furthest from where the pesky Hirondae came from. Gathering the Will into herself she thought of a barrier, a high mountain range only eagles could cross, running from the far northern coast all the way into the sea of the south.

  “It Will be.”

  From her vantage point, floating high in the sky, Mehgrin watched as the land started to buckle and heave, malleable as dough and forming to her Will. It didn’t take long before there was a huge mountain range, steaming with the heat of the energy it took to create, blocking off a wide strip of wooded land beside the sea to the west.

  There was a loud ‘pop’ in the air beside her as Durhain materialized.

  “What have you done Mehgrin? It’s not up to us to remake the lands. As I have said so often, we are but its Guardians.”

  Mehgrin pouted.

  “I just wanted a little of the land kept for me Durhain. A small piece without others in it.”

  Durhain shook his head.

  “That cannot be Mehgrin and you know it. If we do not carry out our work fairly and for the benefit of all, we should not be here.”

  “I hate you,” Mehgrin snarled as she disappeared. “You make me sick,” floating out of the space she’d just occupied.

  Durhain sighed; of the two of them, Mehgrin had more natural ability to utilise Power than he did. In a straight out contest, she could beat him every time. Durhain saw there would be problems in the future if Mehgrin could not grasp the simple concept of being a Guardian. Maybe their time in this place was coming to an end and they should pass on and leave the lands to those who followed. He would have to devise some means to protect the future of the world before he left it. In the meantime, while he did not possess the Power to undo Mehgrin’s work, Durhain did manage to create a deep fissure in her wall of dividing mountains which would serve as a Pass for those travellers who came to populate the lands to the west. They should still be able to access the coastal areas and reach the ocean.

  Mehgrin was annoyed. What was the point of being all powerful if you couldn’t use that Power to do as you wished? She would show Durhain. Without him, she would be able to do as she pleased, when she pleased. If he was no longer here, she would possess the Power of Fire and Air as well as the Power of her own Earth and Water. Mehgrin schemed of ways to rid herself of Durhain.

  Durhain was aware of Mehgrin’s thoughts and although he may not have been as strong as Mehgrin he was clever. So it came to pass over time that Durhain found a place to work in secret near the Fire he loved, well beneath the newly formed mountains. Here he created a Ring, magically imbued with the means to find a True being who could bring peace to the world in times of need. He also made a Dagger to aid the bearer of the Ring and on both he created a magical design to assist the Fire of his Power.

  With both the Ring and the Dagger in his possession, Durhain travelled to the westernmost place he could find on the land, a domed rock beside the ocean. Using the Power of Fire he constructed a four sided obelisk of black stone, on which he left instructions, written in fire but hidden from mortal eyes. Durhain then sealed his flawless creation with warded magic which would last as long as time itself if need be.

  He had just completed his task when Mehgrin materialized near him, an uncanny gleam in her eye.

  “You seek to trick me Durhain. You’re acting behind my back. What is it you do?”

  Durhain stood to face her.

  “I am merely protecting the future of those who come after us.”

  “After us? I will always be here Durhain. It is you who will not.”

  The Power Mehgrin contemptuously threw at Durhain mortally wounded him and he knew her next attack would be the end of him. He instantly threw a small portion of his essence into the Ring he now wore on his finger and leapt forward to grab Mehgrin in a powerful embrace before instantly whisking them both under the mountains which would forever bear her name. In the small, dark cavern Durhain had been using as a place to work in secret, he called up the Power of Fire before Mehgrin could react and they were both instantly immolated and turned to ash in the white heat of Firemagic.

  All that remained in that tiny airless space was a small pile of ash, a Ring and Dagger and walls covered in flaming script.”

  Arwhon came to with a start and looked over at Sihron’del who appeared to be waking from a dream. Ch’ron spoke to them.

  “It’s an interesting tale and one I wish I’d remembered earlier. Now you know young Arwhon, the Ring has chosen you to fix the wrongs in the world but like Durhain, powerful as he was, you are not invincible.”

  “What an amazing tale Ch’ron but it leaves so much unanswered. How did the Ring come to be found? Did the Dwarves come upon it in their delving into the earth? More questions. And what of the pillar on Dome Rock? I’ll have to go there one day and seek answers.”

  He turned to Shiri who appeared a little confused as she asked.

  “How could the old Hirondae woman know about the cave under the mountain or how Mehgrin and Durhain met their end?”

  Arwhon had no answer and noticing the light was fading took Shiri’s hand and helped her to her feet.

  “It’s time to return to Al’hera and have our supper. We can discuss this with Vehrin’del and Jahron’dal while we eat, maybe they can shed some light on the story Ch’ron just related.

  Sihron’del agreed and together, hand in hand, they walked back to the Queen’s quarters, shadowed by Krissi who drifted behind them silently. When they arrived, they found the evening meal was already waiting for them.

  Arwhon and Shiri told the tale of Mehgrin and Durhain to Vehrin’del and Jahron’dal while Cringle sat wide eyed in wonderment, soaking up every word. He’d served them all before sitting and as they finished eating he jumped up to clear the table and pour the honey wine for all before sitting quietly again to listen.

  Vehrin’del was to become one of the Wise Ones someday and her learning of lore and magic ran deep.

  “I’ll try and answer some of your questions with what I know of this time. When Durhain and Mehgrin were no more, their magics ran free. The Hirondae were living in the lands and the magic passed to them; diluted of course because there were more of them to spread it among. The Hirondae knew Mehgrin had constructed her Wall of mountains because she’d spitefully told them it was necessary to keep everyone out of her chosen place. As to the pillar. Well only Durhain could have made that and when the Hirondae first beheld it, the writing in Fire was still shining but in a tongue they could not understand.”

  Jahron’dal nodded in agreement before adding his own little snippet of information.

  “The Dwarves came into t
he land after the Hirondae. No one knows where from but they liked the deep places under the mountains and the Hirondae traded with the dwarves for silver, which they used to make arrowheads, knives and jewellery. They heard from a dwarf one day that a sealed cave had been found deep in the mountain but their Mage had barred access to it and warded it against any intrusion.”

  Arwhon’s ears pricked up.

  “Mage. I didn’t know Dwarves had magic.”

  Jahron’dal sat back and sighed, looking over to Vehrin’del for support. Uncharacteristically, she chuckled.

  “You opened that box so I suppose you had better tell the story.”

  Sihron’del leaned forward, she had never heard this tale before and the reactions of her parents indicated it might be quite an interesting one. Cringle was agog, as his gaze went from one speaker to another trying to follow what was happening. It was like the tall tales he’d overheard from time to time as he grew up, only this was for real. Jahron’dal coughed to clear his throat, took a sip of wine and with a glance in Arwhon’s direction, began the tale.

  “I believe you and Shiri have seen a dwarf. They are not the most handsome of people but are well developed for the life they lead. Occasionally there are dwarves born who are not quite so hairy and a little taller than most. I suppose it’s a throwback to the people they once were. Well, this tale concerns one such who also liked to be above ground now and again in the sunlight. This was many, many years ago mind.

  His name was Hammaron Goldenrod and he was the son of an important dwarf. Hammaron was gifted in his metalwork and created some beautiful jewellery. He came among the Hirondae to trade it for soft furs and woven clothing and somehow caught the eye of a Princess.”

  Jahron’dal paused for a moment and raised an eyebrow in Arwhon’s direction. Arwhon couldn’t help blushing as Sihron’del giggled. Jahron’dal, point made, continued.

  “She wasn’t next in line to be a Queen though, as the Hirondae had large families in those days but she was Royalty. Her name was Elbriona if my memory serves me right. The two of them found they enjoyed each other’s company, different as they were and Hammaron found many excuses to visit Elbriona, bringing gifts each time he came.

  Elbriona used to wait to see Hammaron and if it was a while between visits, she used to pine for him and fade some. History doesn’t say what her parents thought but I believe they were against a match.

  However, we all know what young love is like and Elbriona ran off with Hammaron under the mountains. There was a protest but what can you do in the face of love? Eventually they had children and some of them inherited the magic of the Hirondae. I believe there are families of Dwarves under the mountain who encourage their offspring to learn magic but it has developed into something all its own over time. Dwarf magic is mixed and something we know nothing about.”

  Jahron’dal sat back as Arwhon and Sihron’del digested the information. It was Arwhon who asked.

  “Is the Dwarf magic powerful?”

  Jahron’dal shook his head.

  “No one knows. After the Hirondae split into the various factions, the Dwarves kept to themselves. You were very lucky to meet one and I think it is only because you wear the Ring that you did. Although this Callandor we hear about is a bit of a mystery, especially being able to employ dwarves. They don’t usually have anything to do with Man.

  So there you have it. The story of Mehgrin and Durhain.”

  For Arwhon, it was a revelation and he knew he would have to visit the Dwarves soon. Maybe try to see the very cave which a Dwarf Mage had sealed off all those years ago. There must be someway for him to learn how to use the Firemagic wrapped around his core. Silverseam son of Copperlink had offered the help of the Dwarves to the bearer of the Ring and Callandor’s, where Silverseam worked underground in hidden cellars, would be the first place to look for assistance.

  “I’m going to visit the Dwarves.” Arwhon announced.

  Some around the table appeared surprised but Shiri wasn’t. She knew it would come to this and she knew, somehow, Arwhon would go alone.

  2. Under Mehgrin’s Wall.

  It was no use, they would have to journey back to Belvedere again. Arwhon had thought long and hard about how he could find the home of the Dwarves and realised he could end up wandering around the foothills of Mehgrin’s Wall for years before he stumbled on a way to meet them. Dwarves were secretive by nature and he was sure there would be no signposts advertising their whereabouts.

  Arwhon’s only choice seemed to be a trip to Belvedere. There he could visit Callandor and see if Silverseam, son of Copperlink, was still working for the red gold Callandor paid him. Silverseam had once promised Arwhon aid and now was a time he needed it.

  His Grandmother would be surprised to see him again so soon. It was only about four or five months since he was last there. Thoughts of time and its passing made Arwhon think of Kuiran and Raleen. There could be word of them in Belvedere. He hoped so.

  Since the Dominion had been defeated, travelling bards and troubadours sang many songs and told embroidered tales of the Man with the M’Herindar eyes and a sword which spat fire. He who travelled with a beautiful M’Herindar Princess clad head to foot in green armour and the gryffon which accompanied them. The very recent history of Arwhon and Shiri’s involvement in the demise of Martine and the Dark Mage were woven into these stories and songs along with a great deal of fiction. People loved a good story and all across the lands everyone was now free to enjoy such tales once again.

  Unbeknown to Arwhon, who was very modest, those who told of his involvement glorified his achievements for the sake of theatre. Everyone needed a hero to look up to and Arwhon had filled that niche. However, he was totally unaware of his widespread fame having been away from society for a while.

  They rode into Crossroads glamoured but Duran, Arwhon’s big grey Barsoomi stallion was known and wherever they went in town, well-wishers were there also. Arwhon had sent Krissi on ahead before they rode in from the north. She remembered the spot to the south of Crossroads where she had waited for them before and happily winged off for a few days hunting and eating until Arwhon, Shiri and Cringle caught up with her.

  Not having to worry about Krissi being seen and possibly causing fear and panic in the populace of Crossroads was a relief and it seemed to Arwhon a waste of energy to be glamoured, as it didn’t seem to fool anyone. Anyway, as it was more comfortable to ride bareheaded, he and Shiri now appeared less warlike because they’d decided not to wear their helms which were presently tied to their saddles.

  Still, when they reached the central square and Shiri dropped the spell to reveal their true nature, gasps and shouts went up as Arwhon and Shiri were instantly recognised. A small crowd gathered around them, jostling for a chance to get close to the heroes who had ended Dominion. Cringle struggled to keep people back but to no avail. A servant on a pony meant nothing to a crowd intent on basking in fame.

  “Don’t worry Cringle, I’ll wait until a few more turn up and then I’ll address them all. Maybe they’ll leave us alone afterwards.”

  A mischievous twinkle lit Arwhon’s eyes.

  “Why don’t you go and buy us some pies? You know, those tasty ones from the pieman on the north of the square.”

  Cringle caught on, he was no longer Cringe now and hardly looked like the gangly youth he had been such a short time ago, except for his Cheshwon features. He strode up to the pie cart and greeted the pieman warmly.

  “Good day to you pieman. I would like six of your finest pies please.”

  The pieman looked Cringle up and down.

  “Do I know you young Sir?”

  “Oh, I think we’ve met before,” answered Cringle. “I stole two of your pies once.”

  The pieman nearly dropped the pie he was passing to Cringle who was carefully placing them into a small muslin bag he carried.

  “You wus that skinny wretch the gentleman grabbed and then paid fer yer pies?”

  Cringle smiled t
o himself. This was what had amused Arwhon. Turning, he pointed to Arwhon and Shiri, still mounted but now unglamoured.

  “Yes, the man over there on horseback with the M’Herindar lady in green armour.”

  The pieman did a double take and stepped back from Cringle.

  “You ain’t magic too is ya?”

  Cringle shook his head, grinning and paid the pieman the full price for the pies, delighting to be able to spend real money.

  “No, I’m just their Servant but I will tell you this pieman, only because I once stole from you, which was very wrong of me. Arwhon and Shiri like your pies more than any others in Crossroads and you can tell people that too.”

  The pieman stuck his chest out and puffed himself up with pride at hearing Cringle’s words, a big smile on his honest, work-worn face. Right then, Cringle caught on to the importance of words and what could be done with them and with the pieman’s gratitude ringing in his ears, made his way through the crowd, back to Arwhon and Shiri.

  There is nothing more human than eating and Arwhon decided to consume his two pies while sitting high on Duran’s back. It could help people appreciate he was just a Man. Shiri dismounted from Rancid and stood with Cringle to eat hers, blowing on the hot pie before taking a careful bite. The crowd, on seeing what Arwhon was eating, made a general rush for the pie cart and the pieman sold every pie he had, quick smart.

  Goodness spread outward through the crowd in ripples.

  When Arwhon had finished eating he took a sip of the water Cringle passed up to him before scanning the people arrayed in front of him. His Ring was silent and he felt no malice or ill will coming from them, more of a holiday atmosphere, although it was only Twosday. It was time.

  “CROSSROADS.” He called out loudly.