Revelation, page 17
As the captain moved closer, the floor creaked again. He knelt down, desperately hoping that the aged timbers would support him just a little longer. He reached for the dwarf’s arm and carefully pried apart the fingers which gripped the glowing stone. It was small, no more than the size of an egg, but the stone was heavy. Its pale glow was beautiful as it shimmered in his hand. Holding it up, he could see, dimly, the entire circumference of the platform he sat upon, the massive breach in the center, and the stairs that wound their way up to the next level.
The battle-axe was a different matter altogether. It was in the hand opposite to him, and he needed to step across the fallen body to try and recover it. It also sat much closer to the edge of the breach with the blade just peering over the hole. He wanted the weapon, however, and believed that they would need it if they were to survive the mountain path ahead. Stepping over the body, the old floor gave a loud snap, and falling debris clattered on the floor below.
“Hey!” Braden shouted. “What are you doing up there?”
Aaron had momentarily forgotten that his two companions were just below him. “I’ve found something!” the captain replied. “I’ve recovered a glowing stone and am trying to retrieve a weapon.”
“Great!” Braden said. “Just watch where you drop the next piece of timber. That last one almost struck my head.”
Aaron couldn’t make out what Lorik said next, but it brought a laugh from Braden. Carefully he inched his way closer to the edge. On his knees, with the light in his left hand, he reached toward the axe with his right. He touched the handle with the tips of his fingers, slowly manipulating it until he was able to grip the ancient weapon. Just then, the sound of a loud crack echoed off the walls of the room. In a rush of motion the floor gave way and Aaron fell into the darkness beneath, landing sprawled out on a heap of rubble. Lorik and Braden jumped out of the way just in time as the second level, the dead dwarf, and the captain all came crashing down.
Aaron moaned as he lay in the pile of debris. He still held the stone and the ancient weapon and smiled through the dust that settled upon him like snow. Braden was first to reach him and began moving the splintered wood that had fallen with Aaron. The support beam that had pinned the ancient warrior had tumbled off the pile and left the ancient dwarf exposed.
Braden’s eyes fell upon the skeletal remains. On its brow, a circlet of gold reflected the light of the illumine stone. He reached for the small band, holding it in his hand like a prized possession. Carefully he brushed off the dust that collected, and rubbed it with his tunic until it shined.
Aaron sat up, rubbing the pain from his shoulder, and watched Braden as the dwarf carefully attended the old circlet of gold. He could easily see that Braden was deeply moved or troubled by the discovery. “What is it?” he asked.
“Captain,” he said, as he looked up at Aaron. “This is the ancient insignia of the house of Brekken. This circlet is the crown of lord Brekken’s son!” Braden gasped in amazement even as he thought about it. “It was said that the sons of Brekken defended the river… that after the cataclysm of Charis, Brekken’s sons reached the ancient towers to repel a massive flotilla that advanced up the channel. The story goes that each son commanded a separate tower and died as they faced the advancement of an overwhelming enemy.” Braden paused as he looked again at the circle of gold in his hand. “I,” Braden hesitated, “I never truly believed it… until now.”
Aaron and Lorik listened as Braden recounted the tale. “It was said that the sons of Brekken, against overwhelming odds, fought the advancing hoard of the usurper’s fleet. The two sons, with only a handful of dwarves, destroyed countless ships that forced their way up the canyon. When their forces were destroyed, it was said that the sons of Brekken, alone in the towers, continued to operate the ballistae until the end. That last part, I admit, is probably not true, but these ancient remains give great credibility to the rest of the story.”
When Braden finished his tale, Aaron reached for the offered hand of his sergeant and stood, rubbing his bruised shoulder. With a light in one hand and an axe in the other, he stepped down from the pile of rubble to the floor below. He handed the weapon to Braden, “I think that this will be best served in your hand.”
Braden took the weapon and held it up to examine it. “It is said, the weapons the dwarf lords possessed were adorned with great virtue… almost magical in quality.” He felt the edge of the blade and found it to be exceptionally sharp. “After all these centuries,” he said, “this weapon has maintained its edge. Our history speaks of these weapons, saying that even in the greatest conflict they would never become dull.”
Braden examined more thoroughly the body of the dwarf. He untied the belt around the dwarf’s waist, the leather still very much intact, and wrapped it around himself. It had a catch for the axe, as well as several jewels of various sizes. He placed the circlet of gold into the satchel.
Aaron wanted to investigate the upper levels of the tower. But their need for rest outweighed his curiosity. “Braden, if you’re up to it, keep the first watch tonight. Lorik and I do not possess your stamina.”
Braden was quite satisfied to take the first watch of the night and assured the captain that he would wake him in three hours. Lorik and Aaron found a small area with no debris and settled down. Braden, with the illumine stone in one hand, hoisted his weapon over his shoulder, and took up a relative position between his two companions and the single entrance to the tower.
****
“Captain, it’s time for your watch.”
Aaron was groggy and disoriented as he woke, and the time seemed far too short for his repose. But he rose and relieved Braden who handed him the illumine stone and battle-axe. Aaron took the proffered items willingly and walked around the tower to help him stay awake. Glad that Lorik and Braden would enjoy a good rest, he took up a position near the entrance to the tower, enjoying the nights cool, refreshing air.
As the night wore on, Aaron listened to his companions as they slept. They murmured and snored and mumbled unintelligible words. He walked around the circular room and came upon the body of the fallen dwarf. The white stone glowed as if he held the moon in his hand, and the gold thread woven into the dwarf’s beard reflected the light. A thought crossed his mind. Aaron bent down, removed the gold thread from the ancient beard and placed it in his pocket.
The rest of the night passed without incident and all three were glad to have taken the time to rest. Their journey through the Waste and down the Dead River had taken its toll and a good night’s sleep brought renewed hope. Aaron determined that at first light they would examine the upper levels of the ruined tower and then explore the surrounding grounds.
During the meager breakfast, they further rationed all that remained in their satchel. Aaron was impressed none of the contents within the bag suffered at all from their swim in the river. They finished their morning meal and began the process of exploring the ancient ruins.
Lorik looked at Aaron. “Sir, I don’t want to add to the weight of the upper floors. If you’ll allow, I’ll stay on the bottom level and get a good look around the grounds. You and Braden take the upper levels.”
“Certainly,” Aaron said. “Braden, you’re with me.”
Lorik went outside, and Braden followed Aaron up the stairs to the second level. With daylight streaming in from the gaping hole, they could readily see the entire floor, or what remained of it. Directly across from where the stairs emptied onto the platform, they saw a broken piece of the massive beam that had pinned the ancient dwarf. The floor in that section had utterly collapsed. To their left, the platform was still very much intact. They ventured that way, finding a desk, table, and other items normally found in a guardroom. Time and exposure to the elements took a heavy toll on everything they examined. To their right sat a barrel, overturned and all its contents long since poured out. To Aaron’s surprise, Braden began anxiously searching through the rubble.
“You seem to be looking for something,” Aaron said. “What is it?”
Braden turned to the captain, having almost forgotten that he was there. “What… oh, yes. It is required that every regiment kept a record of their activities. I don’t know if that was the practice at the time, but it would be of great significance to my people if I could recover a journal.”
Aaron understood, and began to help Braden search for anything resembling a journal. They tore through the remains of the second floor, careful to stay close to the outer wall. They found nothing but broken, aged relics of a time long ago.
Frustrated, they ventured to the third floor. Just as on the second floor, a large hole dominated the center of the platform. Jagged edges of wood, splintered by some unknown projectile, reached out like broken bones in the middle of the room. Unlike the floor below them, the two could navigate around the entire structure in relative safety. What they discovered on the third level startled them.
The remains of a dozen dwarves lay upon the floor. Some, it appeared, tried to run for the stairs while others seemed to be cast aside by a massive force that propelled them into the tower wall. The remains of four dwarves were piled, one next to the other, against the opposite wall from the stair, their bodies fractured and mangled. Though nothing but skeletons remained of the dwarf contingent, Aaron could envision the surprise and terror that must have struck those who now lay dead.
What amazed him even more was the lack of evidence that anyone else had been in the tower since the destruction of it centuries before. Dust settled upon everything, undisturbed over the years. Not one of the bodies showed the signs of looting and the entire scene seemed to say that once the tower guard fell, they were forgotten. Aaron took to the right and Braden to the left as they navigated around the circumference of the room. Hanging from hooks hammered into the stone wall, Aaron found a rack filled with dwarf armor, weapons, and other gear needed for a squad of soldiers. There were several selections of swords, most of them short with wide blades.
However, one did pique his interest. It was a longer sword, double-edged and perfectly balanced. Carved along the spine of the blade were ornate inscriptions that he could not read. The hilt was inlaid with gold weave, patterned like the branching of vines, with a green jewel imbedded in the pommel. It was sheathed in a leather scabbard, seemingly untouched by the centuries that had passed. It appeared to be made for a man, not a dwarf, and its belt was quite adequate for him. He couldn’t fathom why a sword of this make and design would be found in such a place, unlike as it was to all the other weapons that kept it company. However, he would not be unarmed and gratefully wrapped the belt around his waist and sheathed the weapon. It felt good to have a sword at his side again.
Aaron looked over to Braden, who had found three barrels, untouched by time or the destructive powers that shattered the tower. Each was a small, wooden cask that a man or dwarf could carry with little difficulty. The only marks of violence upon them were scratches where flying debris had run across the surface. One had been knocked over onto its side, but otherwise they were undamaged. Using his axe, he punched a hole into one of the barrels and from the crack a thick, dark liquid flowed out. It was the same draught that the dwarves used in his day, well preserved! He found two empty bottles and filled both with the liquid treasure. Ripping off some cloth from the hem of his cloak, he used the fabric as a make-shift cork, and gratefully placed the two bottles into the satchel he carried.
Together the two climbed to the top level of the tower. Here they discovered the greatest damage yet. The entire area looked as if a massive hammer fell upon a plate of glass. Only splinters remained where once a wooden floor had been. A massive hole in the center marked the place where a catapult stood. Ancient, fractured timbers mingled with great broken stones around the edge of the structure. The upper wall was broken in several places, and every piece of wood looked as if it had been scorched by a great fire. The platform looked far too treacherous to navigate around the outer edge, so Aaron and Braden simply stared at the destruction.
Where the stairs emptied onto the platform, they could see below to the river. It was far down, and their vantage point gave them an exceptional view of the entire canyon. To Aaron it looked like an ideal location to defend the waterway, with its twin tower looking at them from across the channel. He couldn’t imagine what weapon would have sent a projectile from the river to land on the center of the uppermost platform, and with enough force to crash all the way through to the ground level. No river catapult could be massive enough to send a shot this high, he thought. Aaron shook his head and turned back down the stairs. Braden, reluctantly, followed the captain.
They arrived at the ground level to find Lorik waiting for them, a huge grin on his face. Braden and Aaron walked over to him.
“Well, Sergeant,” Aaron asked, “what is it?”
“Captain,” Lorik said with amazement, “you need to come and see this!”
“Before we go,” said Aaron, “I want you to go to the second level of the tower and find yourself a weapon. There are some hanging on the wall… several swords and axes, as well as pikes, spears and a variety of other artifacts. Be quick and we’ll follow you.”
“That won’t be necessary, Captain… wait till you see.” Lorik walked out the door, with Braden and Aaron close behind. He turned to the right and followed the wall of the tower around until he found a small, hidden trail leading away. It meandered for several yards, and took the men to a wall of rock, covered over with brush. Lorik moved the brush aside and revealed the faint outline of a door carefully carved and formed to look like the rock face. Lorik grabbed a small indentation on the stone, using it as a handle, and pulled the ancient door open. Within the hidden chamber they saw the glint of steel, gold and silver--a vast cavern filled with indescribable treasure. Swords, shields, and other assorted armament of various sizes lined the outer walls, while in the center were vast piles of trays, goblets, and chests filled with jewels and gold. Cloaks, as well, hung from pegs along the walls, untouched by time.
“How is this possible?” Aaron asked in amazement. “How could these things endure the ravages of time?”
“It is said that my people, long ago, possessed the powers of the elements.” Braden answered. “You had a glimpse of it when Garam brought fire to wood. At the peak of our civilization, the dwarf masters could use these skills to make rooms such as this where the passage of time does not corrode or spoil any artifact. They used it to carefully preserve many of our greatest treasures.” The dwarf looked around at the vast store. “I think we are looking upon some of those items even now.” He reached down and patted the ancient blade that hung on his side.
Aaron was amazed at how much wealth was found in the dwarves vault. “How is it, then, that this treasure was so easily hidden? I would imagine that someone by now would have entered this area and discovered what Lorik has found.”
“The old wisdom gave my people the capacity to create places of hiding as well. I can only guess that over the centuries, the ancient power of the dwarves has faded,” Braden said. “That is probably why Lorik was able to find it so easily when it had remained hidden for so long. Besides,” he said, “I doubt that anyone has been up here for centuries.”
The three companions entered the massive vault and began examining the treasure. Great coats of armor, cloaks, and shields of every size hung carefully against the walls. Many were plain, unadorned with any markings. Some, however, were gilded with intricate designs of trees, swords, crowns and castles. The swords were all of excellent quality, with well kept scabbards. Lorik found one to his liking and strapped it on his waist. Aaron, as well, donned a lightly woven chain-mail jerkin and cloak with the markings of a massive oak tree, vines of ivy twisting around it and a seven-jeweled crown hovering over it.
Braden discovered a wealth of available resources as much of the treasure was built by and for the dwarves. He collected two carved throwing knives, a helmet inlaid with gold. He also found a breastplate of metal, light and easily worn under his cloak. It was ornate, well-crafted and boasted a design of an axe and hammer crossed over the chest. Aaron and Lorik looked at their companion and no longer saw Braden as before, he now looked every much the part of a stout, courageous warrior.
“Braden,” Aaron said.
“Yes.”
“You mentioned before about the gold thread woven into the beards of your people. Who presented such markings to them?”
Braden pondered the question for a moment. “Well,” he said, “when a warrior had come of age and showed his courage, his father normally presented the gold thread during a time of celebration. And, if the father was not alive, his commander often took the role. Why?”
Aaron motioned for Lorik to stand by his side. Then both men stood in front of Braden. “For years,” Aaron said, “you were branded a coward by your people yet denied the opportunity to change.” Aaron reached into his pocket. “Over these many days, not only have you shown your courage, you have demonstrated the highest quality of any warrior or soldier I’ve had the privilege of serving with.” He pulled out the thin, gold cord. “I don’t know what type of ceremony is necessary, but I do know you have proved to me that you deserve to wear this.” He handed the symbol of courage to Braden.
The dwarf slowly reached his hands out and took the proffered item. “Captain,” he said as his voice wavered. “I… I don’t know what to say. You honor me far more than is my right.”
“My friend,” Lorik said. “It takes great courage, maybe even greater courage, to acknowledge a failure and try to overcome it.” He stepped up to Braden. “If this gold weave is a symbol of courage, I can think of no one more suited to wear it than you.”
