Chapter 3

They spent a total of a week in the cave, dressing only to venture out for firewood and water. They learned much about one another, each recalling their past and their immediate plans for the near future. One thing had become certain. They would continue to travel together. In addition to their skills as a team, their newfound affection for each other was a deciding factor.

The weather had cleared to become sunny but still cool. Ameni could sense the changes that were coming, and told Aldren that they should try and find some shelter that was more secure than their cave. He agreed and they broke camp.

The valley they were now descending into was more forested. They had been traveling for 4 days still heading north. The trees were shielding them from the cool wind that was blowing from the mountains and the temperature was comfortable. Their cloaks were tucked to the backs of the horses and they rode in the open with little fear of attack. The weapons they carried guaranteed robbers would think twice.

Ameni was in the lead at the moment and Aldren was staring in wonder at the form in front of him. Not only the lithe shape of her body (which was pleasant enough on it's own), but the person who was within that body. To any person they met she would be an elven warrior cold and deadly, and she was. Only he knew what was beneath the exterior was a female who was passionate in love making and deeply caring with him. Remembering the time they spent in the cave was having the normal reaction on him and he shifted in the saddle to relieve the discomfort in his groin.

He was so deep into his thoughts that he didn't notice her sudden stop. He pulled up just short of running his horse into hers. She slid off the mare's back and motioned him to follow.

The clearing just ahead was occupied with several figures hooded and cloaked in black. They were heading into an archway cut into the side of a small knoll. These were priests of the new God. Aldren had seen the rituals that they performed in public for their followers. There was always talk of sacrifice and obedience and praying to the symbol of their God, the body of a man wearing a mask of gold, the face surrounded by rays of light. The burning of herbs and lots of smoke always came along with the words of man being the chosen race and that the other races that shared the lands needed to be driven out or exterminated, for they were the cause of all the evil that cursed the humans.

Now he wanted to see what the high councils consisted of. As the last of the robed figures moved in, the two warriors slipped up to the archway and peeked in. A raised dais with a long altar dominated the small room. Upon this altar was a small but powerful form of a dwarf. He was strapped down on the altar unable to move against the heavy leather bindings. Ameni could see in the dim light that even though his face showed defiance, his eyes showed fear. She started in, but Aldren stopped her.

"Wait and learn." He whispered. The priest at the center of the dais wore the same mask that was depicted on the symbol. Another priest to his right started to speak.

"Brothers, you have been called to witness the punishment of this spy to our great God. He was captured when he entered and defiled this temple. It is decreed that any but the chosen who enter the temple must be put to death. Now witness the justice dealt in honor of He-who-controls-all!"

A low chant started as the priests bowed their heads. The figure in the mask stepped forward clasping a three-bladed knife. The chanting was increasing in volume as he raised the knife, preparing to thrust it into the dwarf's chest. Aldren nodded to Ameni. The arrow left her bow and lodged into the center of the priest's chest. He fell backward into the stone bench at the back of the dais.

There were several seconds of stunned silence then a roar of rage erupted. Aldren stepped through the archway swinging his sword hacking limbs and bodies with impunity. Ameni was working her way toward the figure still bound to the altar, her long knives carving a path of destruction. She beheaded the priest that had announced the death sentence as he was retrieving the ritual knife. She slit the bonds that held the little man down and looked up.

The sight they both observed was of Aldren in full battle mode. He was yelling battle cries in both the common tongue and Elvish. The dwarf picked the long knife and joined the fray. The rest of the battle was swift and bloody. Within a few moments, the priests had either been slain or had fled. Aldren however was still in the grips of battle. He started out to catch the remaining priests, intent on taking them down as they fled.

"Aldren, don't! You do not need to spill their blood!"

"Aye, I have killed enough today." Was Aldren's reply.

The trio exited from the temple, Ameni calm and calculating as normal. Aldren was slower, the battle rage rapidly disappearing from his body. The dwarf cleaned the knife he had used on the grass.

"I am in your debt warriors. I would surely be dead if you had not come along. However I fear that you may have put yourselves in jeopardy for it."

Aldren grinned at the short, stocky man. "That had happened long before we came to the temple."

"Ah yes. I can see the elf maid would be in danger, but why would you be?"

"Besides being bound to the 'elf maid' I am halfelven and I had to leave the King's Court to save myself from a death sentence." Was Aldren's reply. He was still angered by the priests but was trying to regain his composure. He had not meant to let the 'bound' part sneak out. He hoped that Ameni did not catch it.

Glancing over at her he knew that was a false hope. He saw in her eyes even though her features remained impassive. But whether it was hope, anger or fear he couldn't tell. She broke the gaze and returned to getting settled on her horse. The dwarf chose to walk to his home and both warriors decided to follow to assure his safety. It would not be long before the priests got a mob together to come after them all.

During the long trek Murdaek, as the dwarf called himself explained how he became to be in the position that he had been rescued from. His voice was deep for his size and his speech was accented as he told his tale.

"I was returning from a journey from the Gorroth Mountains when I stopped to rest in that glade. The archway had not been there before when I had last been there. I went in and saw the altar. I was then grabbed from behind by two humans and bound. They tortured me for several days trying to find out what I was seeking when I came in. They would not believe me that it was nothing more than curiosity. They held a conclave and decided that I would be killed as soon as they could get the council together. It took a couple of weeks for them all to gather and during that time I was held in a room behind the altar. I almost escaped twice but was held by some sort of magic. I was pulled out and strapped to the altar and then you two appeared."

The signs of hot iron were apparent on his body, long red lines along his arms, legs and torso. The marks were still fresh enough to be losing the skin that had been burnt. Aldren knew also that the dwarves were a vengeful race and that this could trigger a war. A war that, on their own, they could not hope to win. The dwarves were not many in number and the battles and skirmishes could reduce them to extinction.

They traveled late into the night, Murdaek trudging along paths only known to him and his kin. Ameni followed along on the mare leading the packhorse. Aldren brought up the rear, often stopping or riding back to check for pursuit. They finally stopped to rest, each standing watch. At the false dawn they started moving again. The trail was moving closer to the mountains in the west were there was rumored to be a dwarf stronghold that was burrowed deep into the mountain's very roots.

No human had been there as far as anyone knew for the dwarves kept contact to a minimum being a self-sustained race. Truth be told, little was known about the race. They were the half the height of Aldren and stocky. Very strong and tireless they were excellent allies and formidable enemies. Other than an occasional trade dispute the race was peaceful, trying to be neutral with all other races and their wars.

It was nearing dusk on the third day after the rescue when Murdaek signaled for them all to halt. They were at the base of a cliff whose sheer rock face stretched upwards for hundreds of feet. Dark gray and smooth in the daylight, in the dusk of the evening it took on an ominous black presence. In the center, at its base was a set of doors made from a metal that was as dark as the rock face. Upon either side were baskets that contained wood fires that cast flickering shadows on the surrounding area. With a low word, Murdaek told them to stay where they were. He went forward and knocked on the doors with the pommel of his short sword. A small window opened and words were spoken in the native language.

A few minutes later Murdaek walked back to the warriors. "You have been requested to enter the city and speak with the council. It has been agreed that afterwards you are to be the quests of our king. Your horses will be tended to by the men over there."

Arden and Ameni both dismounted and followed Murdaek through the doors. As soon as they were clear, the doors closed, moving silently on their great hinges. The guards, dressed in full battle gear resumed their positions on each side of the archway.

The sight in front of them caused both of the warriors to stop and stare. The hallway they were in was about 20 paces across and columns of black volcanic thicker than three men lined it. Behind the columns the shadows hid areas that would allow for scores of warriors to lie in wait for any enemy that survived breaching the outer walls.

The torches that were fitted in the columns created a trail of fire reflecting on the polished surfaces. Any enemy that made it past the first defensive line would be easily cut down before they could ever make it to the doorway at the far end.

It was to this doorway that Murdaek was heading. His confident strides were echoed by Aldren's booted tread and the light step of Ameni. The doors silently moved on hidden hinges as they approached. On the other side of the doorway was room vastly different from the outer hall. The use of crystals along the ceiling and walls turned the torchlight into a brilliance that rivaled a summer's daylight.

Aldren and Ameni could see the looks of awe as they passed through this hallway. On each side there were doors and archways that led to rooms that were used for the everyday life of these beings. There were storerooms and armories, but most seemed to be the living quarters for the families that populated the keep. Normal movement stopped as they passed and every head was turned in their direction. It gave credence to the rumors that no human or elf had ever passed this far into the keep.

The hushed tones of the dwarf-speech would start as they passed toward another heavy door that was down another hallway.

This door opened into what must have been the seat of power. The room was not as well lit as the outer areas, but the walls were covered in rich tapestries that muted the stark blankness of the stone walls. Heated by a huge hearth the chamber was uncomfortably warm. Murdaek moved toward the back wall where a dwarf was seated on a massive stone throne. He was wearing robes of dark red velvet and a crown of intricate interwoven designs was on his head.

Murdaek stopped in front of the seated figure and bowed low. Aldren and Ameni followed suit. Murdaek then spoke in dwarf speech to the Lord of the Keep. What sounded like a question was asked, which Murdaek answered.