Varlarsaga Volume 2 - Recovery

Chapter - 26 The Stone Folk

The company gathered together at the base of the foothills, Falnir crossing the lightly wooded space between, with Pitrag loping along furtive and suspicious, last of all.

'If we are to come upon whoever dwells above, we must make swift march. I have marked the direction of their fire, and deem our way hither,' said Silval, with a wave of his arm. 'Elvra and I shall take the lead, whilst you Falnir, bring up the rear with the ymp in sight before you. Watch him closely now, since who knows? Perhaps some of his kin are the smoke-makers yonder. If he gives so much as a squeak, silence him; for good, need be,' he concluded, with a stern look at the crouching imp, in the hope that Pitrag understood this threat.

Pitrag rolled his bloody eyes and stared balefully from one to another, and if there had been whites in those eyes, they surely would have shown. 'Yass. Pithrug bae gooda. Spy-spy, ag-asht-pitr!' he muttered, half grinning, so that his fangs protruded. Then, on the instant, he bounded away up the pine-needled slopes on his bony shanks, before any could stop him.

'Is he up to some ymp prank, or has he misunderstood your words,' ventured Corin, as they hurried forward.

'That, I can but guess. Yet we must catch him before he vanishes,' replied Silval, taking Elvra's hand. 'We do not want him blundering into unknown folk and frightening them off, or joining them, if they be of his kindred. Come, follow us, whilst we go on ahead.'

And so, Corin and the others made haste, whilst the swift-footed pair bore away and were lost in the trees above in pursuit of Pitrag.

It seemed no time at all to Corin, before his group had reached the crest, and were hurrying down the far side. At the bottom, they came to a flowing beck that ran, bubbling and chattering, along the cleft where began the next slope. This they crossed at a point where some rocks, much like stepping stones, stuck out: white and grey in the morning sun. For a moment or two Falnir and Bim cast about, then with sudden assurance they turned eastward, beneath the shadow of the trees, climbing in a rough zigzag that was, as Dalen explained to Corin, the path the imp had taken.

Eventually they reached the summit and descended a shorter distance toward the next rolling hill. There Elvra appeared, flitting silently as a shade, to meet them. 'Over the next rise await Silval and the ymp. We found the creature, lurking on that slope, though he gave forth a frightful bark... You must have heard.'

'No,' answered Falnir, 'perhaps we were in the midst of the stream down there.'

'No matter,' she whispered, her eyes gleaming brightly, 'down below lies a ravine, a little steep and stony, but passable. Amidst it is an overhang that masks the lower half from view. Somewhere there, issues the smoke we saw earlier. Here, come, see for yourselves.'

On dancing feet, she led the way between the thinning trees, down and up, until they crossed the top and came to where Silval stood motionless, with drawn bow. He was peering into the depths at the trailing wisps of smoke that last lingered there. Below him, amongst mighty boulders strewn about the slopes, squatted the swart figure of Pitrag.

'Wait here whilst I catch up the ymp, before he does a mischief,' murmured the elf, without turning. 'When I am with him, follow as silently as you can.' So saying, he slipped away down slope, to be lost in the twists and turns of waterways that channelled the heights. After some little time they spied him, apprehending the imp, and so they stole, even as he had done; Corin, wearing the elven shoes given him by Alluin, as noiselessly as the others.

Soon, they were gathered at the level of the ledge that obscured any view beneath. Creeping round this obstruction, they found themselves upon a lower shelf, amongst the tall stones, which now appeared more like blocks; cracked and shattered, as if torn from the inner walls that stood beyond, supporting the mouth of a deep cavern. The place appeared deserted, and after a time they dared to wander cautiously amongst the silent stones. Peering into the black depths of the cave-mouth, the elves noted a faint, acrid odour that seemed to come from far below. Pitrag, more daring or foolhardy, pattered in a little way.

Falnir made as if to follow, but Silval halted him, saying, 'I do not like the feel of this. There is an anguish on the air, and a reek of fear in that hole. Something once dwelt there, something terrible, I guess.'

'A creature's lair, you mean?' asked Corin.

'That is what I mean,' the elf replied. 'Though I do not believe the smoke we saw earlier came from here. What issues forth seems ancient, as if the very hole itself was deep-stained by some long lingering smirch.'

At that moment, Pitrag came slinking out of the darkness, rubbing at his eyes which, when he opened them, were hooded with doubt. Then he laughed his wicked little laugh and went to crouch behind a rock, there to peep at them with a wild expression on his pinched face.

'What is it Pitrag? Tell me what you know,' Corin demanded.

The imp muttered something, shaking his head so that the unruly hair caught upon his sharp-pointed ears. His tail switched about, like that of an angry cat. 'Tan ogof erchyll,' he answered.

Corin turned to the others. 'What is it he says?'

'I do not know those words,' replied Elvra, at a loss. 'They are not Elloræ, nor are they Daræ.'

The imp stabbed a curved nail toward the opening, 'Ogof-ogof,' he repeated. 'Tan!' he said, making wriggling movements with his claws as he waved his skinny arms up and down. Then he rubbed his claws together and put them, palms outward, toward an imaginary object. 'Har-tân. Har-tân!' He repeated insistently.

'Fire,' said Falnir. 'Fire-flame. That is what he means.'

'Never mind the ymp,' squeaked Dalen, hurrying up, beckoning. 'Come see a curious sight!' He led them to the edge of the shelf. 'There, amongst the trees in that clearing,' he said, pointing with a stubby finger, toward the slope below.

The company gazed down at a strange setting indeed. In the cleared space, which was relatively level, stood three stone-grey figures, and amidst them, the blackened remainder of a fire, whereon rested a large, egg-shaped object; greenish in colour.

'What in the world is that?' exclaimed Corin.

'Those figures may be the graven images of folk who dwell hereabout,' suggested Falnir. 'Perhaps there, lies a place of gathering for celebration or veneration. Who can tell from here, with any certainty?'

'The way seems deserted enough,' said Elvra. 'Whoever kindled the fire has put it out and gone away, or is in hiding.'

'Our coming may well have seen to that,' Silval added, uncertainly. 'Still, there is only one way that we shall know further. Let us descend in stealth, keeping together, lest we be caught in some kind of trap.' He motioned them after him, and the companions made off, picking their path with infinite care, over the lip of stone and down into the trees.

It was not too long before they stood at the edge of the tiny clearing, alert and watchful. After a while, in which they waited for sign of danger, the company boldly advanced into the open, there to gather near the glowing coals.

Bim sniffed about amongst the statues, suspiciously. 'Currious,' he mewed. 'They smell of stone sure enough, but there is something else too.' He licked at a paw thoughtfully. 'Purrhaps it be the rreek of smoke?'

'Perhaps,' answered Silval. 'Yet I feel an uneasiness within me.'

Corin too, stared at the three figures. They were cast as squat, hewn manikins, a trifle taller than Dalen, but much broader: grey, and darker grey was their colouring, from square-cut head to slated, shingle-coats, to boots like large, speckled pebbles. Their chiselled hands were clenched at waist and barrel chest, and strangely, their eyes were lidded shut.

For some unknown reason, the elves and Corin drew away, disconcerted, until Dalen called them from their study. 'Curious, aye. But what about this?' he cried, laying a hand to the egg, which was as big as himself. 'What kind of bird laid it?' he wondered aloud.

'Surely not an eagle,' said Elvra. 'For even the great Elfame Queens of the Wind do not produce such as this.'

'No,' replied Silval, with a quick breath, 'yet it is not that hard to guess what might, since we have seen such foul Flying Worms over our own lost Isle. Dragons you might....'

And before he could say further, Dalen pulled his hand sharply away. 'The thing moved!' he squeaked, trembling. 'There is something alive, inside!'

Elvra took Dalen by the shoulder and drew the pixie to her protectively.

Silval and Falnir raised their bows, as a creaking, cracking sound ominously emerged, and fractures began to appear at a point along the egg's surface. A faint, but steady, rhythm knocked from within, beating, beating; a life-force was struggling to break through, to emerge into the world, where stood at the ready those who could easily deal it death. Corin was possessed of sudden pity for the thing within the shell; an empathy, maybe he felt, since he too had fought for life and freedom after long confinement, and he knew what it was like to burst free into the wonderful sunlight.

The egg began to split open.

Without thinking, Corin lifted his arms before the elves' bows. 'Wait, wait a little. Whatever it is, good or evil can do us no harm at birth. Helplessness, for a short while, is the beginning, and the end. Only in maturity, is there venom enough, tapering away, to the finish.'

The shell poured steam from a rent at the point of impact from inside. Flakes shivered and fell. Something within, stirred and heaved, restless to come to being.

Whilst Corin, Bim and the others watched, a shiny, horny thing struck through the membrane, tearing at the inner lining, pushing with quivering softness against the shattering shell. There came a long, drawn wail, that ended in a whimper. Then, from the egg, from its smashing, splintering, emerged a flimsy, sail-like object.

At the rim of the egg, appeared a dripping claw, the talons of which, still pliable, bent against the hard outer casing, clasping blindly. A head slithered into view. It was elongated, the snout terminating at two flaring nostrils above the hard line of the mouth. A pair of peaked ears slowly lifted upright, almost dog-like in shape. But it was the creature's eyes, lidded beneath, that held the company horrified and fascinated.

These eyes were vivid, yellow, with horizontal bars across each, and in them there was both fear and the cold disdain of the merciless serpent.

Yet also there was a kind of pathetic bluff about the creature when it spied them, as if instinctively, it knew at once to flee for its life, even at the moment of birth. With a sudden twist, the creature overturned the shell, so that it spilled out on the tide of the liquid contents. Quickly it was on the move, seeking to escape into the tall grass nearby. Yet Pitrag was swifter. In a bound he caught the thing and triumphantly raised it in the air, holding it firmly at the back of the head. The creature gave a shrill cry, an animal-cry of fear, its tail curled protectively between its hind legs and up the soft underside. The papery, sail-like things, that Corin now observed to be wings, were tightly folded to its heaving sides. Its head, with the ears forced out by Pitrag's claws, seemed faintly fox-featured, though instead of fur there were scales that glinted in the sun. The thing squeaked and wriggled wildly to break free, but Pitrag pulled it to his hollow chest, holding it fast, as if it were his own. The thing hissed and opened its jaws, to reveal a crimson tongue and rows of needle teeth.

Bim arched his back and spat. 'Ssss! Draglingss! The offsspring of great sserpents I have ssseen long ago. Succhh arre not pets to be played with. The ymp will find that out when he hass his ear bitten off.'

'Is that what it is,' said Corin in wonder, advancing to touch the scaly body. The infant dragon snapped at him, then shrank back, puffing up its belly in fright.

'Aye, it is the offspring of a dragon right enough,' murmured Silval, with some concern in his words. 'The cave above was the lair no doubt, though now long abandoned, I deem. Why that happened I cannot guess. Perhaps something drove off the occupants, or more likely they were slain far from here. Still and all, there were others; folk who made the fire and hefted the egg down. Whoever they be, and wherever. It seems plain that they meant to destroy it, either by cooking, or smashing it to pieces.'

'Arrr, tzat his owtzey moost bey kilt!' said a hoarse voice at their backs.

Astonished, the company turned to see that the statues had suddenly come to life.

'Cookzup int fiar tul zegg burstan. Zmash midden stane,' growled the foremost as he shuffled toward them. 'Weyarr Stanegnamen.' He indicated his two companions: 'Zem Zlato, hand zem Gizonak.' Then he tapped his own shingled surcoat. 'Met Kral.'

'I am Silval,' replied the elf. 'Tell us Kral, do you understand our tongue?'

In answer, Kral and the others bent their heads a fraction, closing and opening their eyes, and it was in them that Corin saw the only feature of colouration and life: they were a very deep blue, grave and sombre.

'You have great skill at remaining still and silent as stone,' remarked Falnir. 'Indeed, that is what we believed you to be.'

'Weyarr hov tze stane,' answered Gizonak, in a deep and hollow tone. Then he and Kral began to advance and Corin noticed that their grey hands were not empty. Each carried a stone.

'What do you mean to do?' he asked, already guessing the answer.

'Tzat Wohen Gobec moost bey kilt,' nodded Zlato, and the sound of his chin against his vest was rock on rock.

'I do not understand what you mean,' said Corin, backing away.

Kral indicated his flat nose with a clenched fist. 'Wey nem zem Wohen Gobec. Tzat hiz fiar-znout. Znout. Nozz. '

'Fire-nose, why?' asked Corin, coming between Pitrag and the stonegnomes.

'Blaw fiar frum mouze, frum znout. Killen tzat vay. Killen, hand ehten.' Kral lifted his arm toward the imp and his captive. 'Tzat fiar-znout moost dii!'

Pitrag squeaked, trembling, yet did not release the creature in his scrawny arms. But at that moment, the dragling seemed to sense its own doom. One of its fragile wings, soft-boned as it was, pulled away and began to flap, first feebly, then wildly until the creature broke free to flutter a distance off, scrabbling and clawing into the grass. In a trice the imp was after it, though Gizonak was quicker. With a speed that seemed impossible for his shape and size, the stonegnome hurled his taw. The creature fell with a screech, convulsed, curled and lay still. Pitrag dropped to his knees and howled. It was a howl of mourning.

With a gasp, Corin rounded upon the three. 'You need not to have killed the creature. The imp would have caught it!'

'Yump dii altzo, hiv nat midden hew,' replied Gizonak flatly.

'Hewarr ztrange tiz lend,' ground Kral's voice, granite-like in its heavy tones. 'Gho hon tzer,' he motioned into the northeast. 'Gho tue hew hown khind. Gho tue Mhonkheppur. Tue Vas-Kholm.' He shrugged and began to shuffle off, Gizonak and Zlato following. They went into the trees northward, and for a while could be heard amongst the bracken and pine needles.

Then silence fell.

Elvra lowered her bow and took watch by the noon-shaded firs. Silval and Falnir stood, uneasily, by the blackened embers of the fire. Bim licked at a hind leg, unspeaking. Dalen wandered over to the whimpering imp. Corin turned his eyes to those of his companions, one after another, and they read the question written in them.

'As Kral said, Avarhli, we are in a strange land,' murmured Silval.

'Strange and savage and bitter,' answered Corin. 'I do not like to kill. Nor do I sanction killing, not even of something that may be a future enemy. Not if it is a helpless, pursued creature with no defence.'

'Nor likewise do we love dealing death to any living being,' replied Falnir. 'Though there are times when it is beyond the elves to halt such deeds.'

'That I well understand,' Corin sighed, 'just as it be beyond me. But for all that, it pains me none the less.' He turned his gaze skyward, and there thought he caught a faint and distant sight of a bird winging into the east. For a moment, his mind seemed flowing with sounds, voices: The Voices.

Then, another voice; swirling him back into the sunlight:

'Corin! Avarhli! Corin! Master Corin!'

It was Dalen the pixie, shaking at his arm. 'Master Corin. The dragling, Pitrag's creature.

It lives!'

Chapter 27 [next]