Priestess of War (The Bowl of Souls Book 10), page 17
Fist scratched his head. He had come to the women’s caves many times before and had never seen this place before. Ogre women didn’t bathe very often. “What is this place?”
“Mother Zung told me about it,” Maryanne said, reaching into a pouch at her side and pulling out two small rocks carved with tiny fire runes. She tossed them into the pool and when they hit the water, they began to glow. “She says the Water People brought the idea with them when they joined the tribe. They’ve been digging channels for water throughout the caves.”
“A bath,” he said, a smile spreading across his face.
She shrugged as the pool began to bubble and steam. “It’s not the same as a nice tub, but heating the water helps.”
Fist leaned in to kiss her quickly on the lips. “Thanks so much! I haven’t had a bath in so long!” He set his shield and mace aside and unbuckled his breastplate, then sat down to pull off his boots.
He had gained an appreciation for bathing during his stay at Coal’s Keep and had learned to enjoy it even more at the Mage School. This was going to be so wonderful. He began to pull off his shirt, but stopped and turned to face her.
“Oh. I’ll wait for you to leave before I . . .” His voice trailed off as he saw her set her leather armor to the side. “But you . . .”
Maryanne stripped off her underclothes and stepped into the steaming water, easing back with a satisfied sigh. She raised an eyebrow at the gape-mouthed ogre. “Well? Get in here.”
Chapter Eleven
Lenui Firegobbler heard the riders approaching before they appeared. He handed the wagon’s reigns to Old Bill, who was sitting on the bench next to him. Lenui placed his hand on the handle of his throwing hammer. It was probably just the scouts returning, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. This trip had gone too smoothly so far. He was certain something had to go wrong sooner or later.
“Someone’s comin’, Swen!” he barked, glancing back to see that the wooden-faced archer already had an arrow nocked and ready.
“I heard.” Swen was sitting on the bench atop the second wagon. They had chosen the tall Academy graduate for the duty because he had the blank look of a caravan driver. No one would see the man and think he was dangerous. They’d be wrong, though. He was a dead-eye shot with either of his bows.
Lenui relaxed when the riders came into view. It was just Wild Dinnis and Helmet Jan. “Well? You find anything?”
“No,” said Dinnis boredly. Tolivar’s old sword seemed to be working its magic. The young swordsman had gained a taste for battle since the last time Lenui had seen him. Unfortunately, the goal of this journey was to avoid battle. At least until they could get up to the Thunder People territory.
“We just saw animal tracks. Nothin’ to fret about,” added Helmet Jan. The harsh-voiced pikewoman wore a cloak with a long cowl to cover the shiny helmet she always wore. The helmet was an odd thing. It was polished and shiny, tight to her head, covering everything but her mouth and chin. The woman never took it off, not even to sleep.
Lenui was certain that helmet was magical. It only had narrow slits for her eyes to see out of, but the woman saw remarkably well. In fact, she was an excellent scout. Lenui figured that the inside was covered in runes, allowing her to see in ways the rest of them couldn’t. He ached to take a peek at the thing but the blasted woman wouldn’t take it off to let him look inside.
The three Academy-trained humans had been picked as escorts for this mission because they were a small and relatively unknown trio that had already worked together on a long travel assignment. Also, since they had just recently returned to the Academy, Wizard Valtrek had figured it was less likely that any of them could be a spy for whoever was controlling the evil in the mountains.
A five person crew was pretty small for a mission this important, but that was the point. Even if the enemy somehow got wind of their approach, a group this small wouldn’t be seen as a threat. As far as anyone would be able to tell, they were just a small merchant caravan with two guards.
“Did you see that wagon trail I told you about?” Old Bill asked the two scouts. Sarine’s bonded dwarf had a clean-shaven upper lip, but a long gray beard that hung past his belt. He was dressed in merchants’ finery. “It should fork off of the road not far from here.”
Jan shrugged. “Maybe. I saw somethin’, but it’s pretty overgrown. Wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t told me to be lookin’ for it.”
The old dwarf nodded. “Can’t say I’m surprised. That’s how he’d want it.”
Old Bill was something of a legend in the dwarf community. He was just over six hundred years old and had been one of the Prophet’s companions in the big war. However, not many folks knew what he looked like. He had been in hiding with his bonding wizardess for the last 200 years and even the people that once knew him figured he was long dead. He was even less recognizable wearing fancy red and gold embroidered robes and a floppy merchants’ hat.
The old dwarf had multiple reasons for being on this mission. One of them was that as one of Mistress Sarine’s bonded, he was able to stay in contact with the Mage School High Council and let them know of the mission’s progress. Another one had something to do with this surprise side mission that the dwarf had sprung on them earlier that morning.
Lenui frowned. There was too much secrecy on this trip. The three Academy students knew nothing except that they were to escort these two wooden merchant’s wagons to the mountains.
Lenui was the mission leader and the only thing he knew was that one of these wagons contained the secret weapon they were bringing to help Fist and the ogres in their fight. He didn’t even know what the weapon was. He didn’t like not knowing things.
Old Bill called back out to the Academy warriors. “Head back up to that trail if you would. See if it’s clear enough that we can take these wagons down it. We may have to clear a path.”
“Really? Path clearing?” Dinnis complained. “That’s what our Academy training gets us? At least with Tarah, we occasionally got to stab things.”
“Stop your whinin’,” Helmet Jan replied. “We don’t get to choose our jobs. Just be glad you’re not stuck guardin’ some noble’s old auntie. At least you’ll get to wave your sword around while you’re clearin’ brush.”
The two of them turned their horses around and headed back up the road.
Lenui took the reins back from Old Bill. “So, you willin’ to tell me why we’re makin’ this side trip yet?”
The old dwarf sighed. “You know I can’t tell you anything more until we get there. All I can tell you is that it shouldn’t delay us very long. We’ve been making very good time. The Academy army is still over a day behind our progress.”
While their caravan was taking a westerly route up to the Thunder People Territory, the Academy army was making a direct northerly approach to the Black Lake. It was a large force, a thousand Academy troops, joined by two thousand Dremald Garrison and cavalry, along with a couple hundred wizards and mages. They were going at a slower pace, however. Largely, because so many of them were on foot.
“Yeah, we got the cushy job compared to them. An easy ride up mountain trails,” Lenui said with a scowl. “Why do I feel like I got the dag-gum turkey detail?”
“I’d say it’s because you don’t trust Head Wizard Valtrek,” said Old Bill.
Lenui’s eyes narrowed. “Could you not call him that?”
The old dwarf shrugged. “Like it or not, that’s his position. The Bowl chose him. If the Bowl trusted him, we should too.”
“Maybe it did,” Lenui admitted. “But it didn’t name him, did it? That there tells me that it knows there’s somethin’ off about that dag-blasted cotton-chewer.”
“Mind your tongue, Lenui,” Old Bill said. “You should be above that kind of talk.”
Lenui’s scowl deepened and he had to force down the long string of curses he wanted to direct Old Bill’s way. In the beginning, he had been excited about the prospect of journeying with the old dwarf. After all a legend like Old Bill was sure to be an excellent companion, full of old stories. Unfortunately, folks hardly ever lived up to their legends. Old Bill was mild-mannered, prudish, and a bit of a bore. Even worse, he disliked two of Lenui’s favorite things; swearing and spicy food.
It had surprised him. He had met Old Bill briefly when he was young and he had seemed so different back then. The dwarf was two full inches shorter than Lenui, but he had seemed vibrant. Manly. The kind of dwarf you’d follow into any battle. Now he just seemed . . . soft.
Bill even spent his nights sleeping in the bed in the first wagon. He said it was to keep up the ruse that he was the wealthy merchant. Yeah, right. What had happened to the dwarf in the last two hundred years? Had he spent the whole time in an elf vineyard, holding the old lady’s yarn?
They came upon Bill’s “wagon trail” about a mile up the road. Calling the trail overgrown was an understatement. It looked like it hadn’t been used in years. It took them an hour to clear enough tree-limbs out of the way that the high-sided wagons could pass down it. Even then, going was slow. The trail had been washed out in several places and at one point they had to get out and remove an entire tree that had grown in the center of the road.
Finally, they came to an obstacle too great for them to take those wagons through. An enormous boulder was standing in the path, dense greenery on either side of it.
“Where’d that come from?” Helmet Jan asked.
“It must have rolled down the mountainside,” Swen suggested.
The woman frowned. “From where? This is a flat stretch of ground. Even if it’d somehow rolled down from that far ridge, it would’ve had to crash all the way through the forest on its way here. You see any downed trees?”
“Well, however it got here, it’s got us stuck,” Dinnis said. He looked back at Lenui. “Is your hammer strong enough to break this apart?”
Lenui snorted. The thing was ten feet tall and easily just as wide. “Maybe if I had a few days to whack at it.”
“That’s alright,” Bill said. “Our goal is only another couple miles ahead. We’ll hitch the horses up to the back of the wagons and pull them back to that clearing we just passed. We can camp for the night and Lenui and I will continue on foot in the morning.”
“Just the two of you?” Swen said.
“You think we can’t handle a gall-durn two mile hike?” Lenui asked, shaking his head. “He’s right. It’s more important that you three stay and guard the wagons.”
As the Academy soldiers went to move the horses, he looked back at the dwarf. “And once we get on that walk, yer gonna tell me where the hell it is we’re goin’.”
“There is no need for you to be disrespectful,” Bill replied. “I’ll tell you our goal when the time is right.”
“What does it matter?” Lenui said. “You could tell me now. No one’s listenin’!”
The old dwarf folded his arms. “Head Wizard Valtrek’s instructions were very specific. The fewer of us that know the mission, the less chance there is that someone could tell the enemy if captured.”
“That’s piddle-talk!” Lenui said. “Whatever that evil thing is, it ain’t gonna bother holdin’ us fer questioning!”
Shaking his head, Bill walked to his wagon and went inside, closing the door behind him. Lenui watched him leave with open mouthed wonderment. What kind of dwarf walked away just because he was being questioned?
Old Bill didn’t come back out until the rest of them had set up camp and Lenui had a pot of pepperbean stew boiling. He had made sure to pick the reddest pepperbeans just to spite the dwarf. They were just about soft enough and he was just adding dried pork flakes to thicken it up when the old dwarf approached him, a lit pipe hanging from his mouth.
“I refuse to eat that,” Bill said, his voice even-toned, though the glare in his eyes meant business.
Lenui frowned. “Tough rocks. It’s my night to cook. You sayin’ you don’t like the way my stew tastes?”
“I’m not saying it to insult you. It tastes great for the half second before my tongue runs screaming,” Bill replied.
“Nonsense!” Lenui barked. “I am the best trail cooky there’s ever been. That heat’s important. Warms up yer insides. Cures colds. Kills gut bugs. Gives you energy the next day.”
“I was cooking for hundreds of years before you were born. A good trail cooky takes his companions’ wants in mind,” Bill replied. “I’ve asked you time and again to make something else or at least tone it down. You continue to make it hotter than any normal person, I don’t care if they’re dwarf or bandham, could tolerate!”
Lenui snorted. “Ain’t my fault you don’t know good food when you taste it.”
“I’m not the only one who feels this way.” The old dwarf looked around the campsite. Jan was on first watch and was patrolling the perimeter, but the other two pretended not to be paying attention. “Well? Tell him.”
Dinnis was laying in his bedroll. “Don’t drag me into this. I just want to sleep.”
“I have grown used to it,” said Swen, who was sitting by the fire, whittling an arrow.
“They feel the same way I do. They are just reluctant to speak up,” Bill said.
“Yer friggin’ crazy,” Lenui said. “What happened to you? Yer a dag-gum legend. When did you become a wet-willow?”
“And then there’s that foul mouth of yours. I demand an apology,” Bill said firmly. His tone was still even, but he was puffing on that pipe so fast it was as if his head was steaming.
Lenui blinked, taken aback. “Fer what? Questionin’ that piece-of-dirt Valtrek?”
“For continuing to curse at me even though I have told you I don’t want to hear it!” the old dwarf said. “Just because you’re a young dwarf doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to disrespect your elders!”
Lenui took his stew off of the coals and set it next to the fire to thicken. Then he turned to face the dwarf. “I may be half yer age, but I ain’t no ‘young dwarf’. And as long as you keep whinin’ ’bout it, I’m gonna say all the dag-blasted swears I can garl-friggin’ think of!”
The old dwarf looked at the others exasperatedly. “Do you see where my frustration is coming from? He’s supposed to be a legend himself. ‘Lenui Firegobbler, the greatest leader of this generation!’ Still, he throws tantrums like a toddler.”
“I never said I was no great leader,” Lenui harrumphed. “And don’t act all high and mighty to me, dag-blast it! Yer supposed to be a dwarf. Cursin’ is a proud part of our heritage!”
“I’m not saying that cursing doesn’t have its place in our tradition,” the old dwarf allowed. “But only during holidays! And the cursing competition was done as a joke! Your generation is the one that started bringing that muddy language into every day speech!”
“That’s blasted bunk! My grandpappy used to curse me to sleep at night!” Lenui declared.
Old Bill rolled his eyes. “That’s right. You’re from Corntown where coarseness is second nature. But the rest of us weren’t ever that way. It’s your generation that spread it around to the rest of the dwarves. Now it’s become so common place nobody can speak the common language proper anymore!” He pointed his pipe at Lenui. “It’s one of the great travesties of our age. Two hundred years of young dwarfs so empty headed, they can’t spit out a coherent sentence!”
“That’s tiddle-pucky!” Lenui snapped. “Yer just against it ’cause you ain’t quick witted enough to keep up with me.”
“I’ll have you know that back in my younger days I was the champeen curser of my town!” Bill claimed. “I just knew the proper time and place for it.”
Lenui let out a belly rumbling guffaw. “Bull-apples!”
Old Bill’s face twisted into a deep scowl. “You challenging me, boy?”
“I been challengin’ you since we left the dag-blamed Academy,” Lenui growled.
“So be it!” The old dwarf pointed at Swen. “You’re one of the judges.”
Swen’s brows moved slightly closer together into his version of a frown. “I don’t know that I would be the best judge.”
“What’re you talkin’ ’bout?” Lenui said. “Yer so impartial, yer practically a tree.”
“He means you’re perfect,” Bill said. “Dinnis!”
The swordsman, who had just fallen asleep, groaned. “What do you want?”
“You’re the second judge,” Bill said. “There has to be two and Jan’s out on patrol.”
“But it’s been a long day and I got early morning watch,” Dinnis complained.
“That don’t matter,” Lenui declared. “Whichever one of us dwarfs loses has to do the rest of the night’s watch on his own.”
Dinnis sat up in his bedroll, his arms folded. “Fine by me. I’ll judge.”
Old Bill laughed. “Is that all you want to wager, Lenui?”
“It’s a start,” Lenui said, licking his lips as he tried to think up a good proper punishment. “Also, when I win, you can’t complain ’bout my cursin’ fer the rest of the trip!”
Bill snorted. “Fine. But if I win, you can’t cook dinner for the rest of the trip.”
“Ha! Done!” Lenui said.
“You better win, Bill!” said Jan from the trees. “I’m tired of crappin’ out live coals!”
“Yer supposed to be on watch!” Lenui barked. “If you got eyes under that helmet, keep ’em open!” Lenui pointed a finger at Dinnis. “And you gotta be impartial! No pickin’ him just ’cause he’s old!”
“He’s older than you? I thought you were about the same age,” Dinnis said.
Lenui’s jaw clenched until he was close to cracking a tooth. “Just judge it fair!”
“I shall judge it fairly as well,” Swen announced in his monotone voice.
The two dwarves gave the wooden-faced man a dull look, then focused back at each other.
“You know the traditional rules for a cursing competition?” Bill asked.
“Who the hell needs rules?” Lenui replied. “Just let her rip ’till one of us throws a punch. The one with the weakest skin loses!”
