The Alliance (short story)

The prequel to the Water Weaver's prophecy.

79th year of the Age of the Great Houses in The Great Eastern Republic, Hathea

"I'm going home, I haven't seen my family in a long time, and there's nothing to do here anyway, except smash plates over each other's heads," said Longbeard as he left the noisy tavern filled with thudding cups. He didn't feel like doing that, but he didn't really feel like travelling alone through the Silent Forest either. However, he disliked the company of the last caravan even more. He found it difficult to restrain himself when they spent the whole day spitting on dwarven work. In the end, I might end up cutting one of them down, he grumbled to himself.

He had been walking for a day when the sky turned a muddy orange and the trees in the forest stretched out their gnarled fingers. He stopped and adjusted his helmet, which had slipped forward. He rubbed his hands together, his breath settling on his beard like ice crystals. His nose wrinkled at the overwhelming scent of pine. It is time to look for a place to camp; a hollow tree would do.

The snow crunched beneath his feet as he sought shelter from the mountain wind. He could have used magic to barricade himself with earth, but magic attracts intruders. A risk he preferred not to take.

Suddenly, muffled cries and the screech of metal pierced the thicket of trees. At first he froze, then quietly drew his sword and set off in the direction of the sounds.

"Maybe I'll get lucky," he muttered, tightening his belt, though he had no desire to go any closer. Each step felt like dragging more and more bags of stones.

The noises became clearer in the crisp air: metal scraping against metal, followed by a dying groan, then a soft thud, and then nothing. There was no more noise.

Longbeard crept forward. He felt the sting of magic on his skin. A thick, sweet smell hung in the air, and a hooded figure leaned over his victim among the trees. His arms seemed thin, almost fragile, compared to his opponent's, yet his sword cut through the breastplate with brutal force and sank into the man's chest.

That's impossible, no one has that much strength! Not even an orc... and that sword, Longbeard froze as he watched the black blade protrude from the mangled metal. Unscathed. But then the attacker suddenly turned toward him.

What kind of magic is this?! Longbeard took a step back with an incomprehensible terror in his chest. It's the pressure of his magic... it can only be that, but I've never felt anything like it before.

"Alone?" the figure growled as he looked around. "That's not customary among dwarves.

I wouldn't be alone if the wicked winds hadn't blown me together with these orc-hearted mercenaries, he grumbled to himself and gripped the hilt of his sword more tightly.

"Do you also work for the Great Red?" The hooded figure raised his sword.

"For Krourx? The dragon?" Longbeard spat and pulled up his pants. "I won't stoop that low, but what business do you have with them here?"

"You're lucky, dwarf, my cloak is already stained with enough blood for today." The figure threw back the hood, revealing a woman's features. Her pointed ears were peeking out from around her black curls. Then, with a drawn-out humming sound, she waved her cloak. The blood on it ran like mercury and dripped onto the ravaged snow.

A repulsive spell, Longbeard noted to himself, I wouldn't mind learning that myself.

"What did you do to that behemoth to make him send bandits after you?

The elf raised her head and looked him up and down, then turned and strode off into the forest. Longbeard sighed with relief and watched her go, then scanned the battlefield. Six men lay frozen in their own blood. When the woman disappeared from view, he clenched his teeth and began to loot the fallen.

It's better that this elf lady doesn't spoil the air here any longer. Who needs an enemy like the Great Red? he muttered to himself. Anyway, what kind of elf has such power? It's better to stay away from her.

To Longbeard's satisfaction, the night passed without incident. Ice cracked on his black beard with every movement. The night before, he had been drinking by the blazing fireplace. His mouth watered at the memory of the warm mead, but now there was no turning back. According to the innkeeper, the next place to stay was at least a day's walk away. Follow the path downhill and you'll find work, the locals said, although caravans rarely set out at this time of year.

At dawn, he was just packing up to go down to the Dreaming Sea when the sound of breaking branches and loud conversation reached his ears.

"... he offered a thousand gold pieces, what's a little snow to us for that kind of money!" grumbled one, and the other two grunted in agreement.

"There!" muttered another, and a whistling sound cut through the air.

Longbeard's muscles were faster than his thoughts. He hadn't even finished his dive when a dull thud shook the ground nearby. The shockwave hit him like a hot hammer and sent him rolling. With his eardrums ringing, he jumped straight behind the nearest tree.

"Fireball," he muttered under his beard, but he was already on his feet and stomped hard. The magic beneath his feet shot into the ground and sent out a wave. The attackers heading toward him all stumbled.

There are four of them, Longbeard peered out from behind the tree.

"Hey, there's a short one in the bushes!" He heard the shout. Peeking out from behind the tree, he saw the speaker. Daggers hung from his belt, his teeth gleamed black.

"What a warm welcome!" he said as he drew his weapon. "What do you want?"

"What you have!" The attacker with the protruding ears swung his sword. His gray features betrayed some gnome blood, as did the tattoos on his arms.

This could spell trouble, an alchemist, Longbeard gritted his teeth. But that big, silent oaf won't be easy either, that axe in his hand looks heavy.

"You'd throw away your lives for a few copper coins... so be it!" He grabbed his rusty shield.

"The coins are yours, but the scalp is mine," growled their stocky companion, his eyes bloodshot. His head was covered with fur. Longbeard's mouth twisted into a sneer, and reached down into the ground, gnashing his teeth as he pulled up the knowledge that lay within.

"Before we finish you off, dwarf, tell us, have you seen an elf woman around here?" asked Blacktooth.

"And if I have?" Longbeard twirled his sword, muttering the words of the spell under his thick mustache. "Bhollig!" he finished with a stomp.

The spell rushed from his foot into the ground. The soil shook beneath the attackers, and the snow bulged in several places. The mercenaries started running backwards, but at Longbeard's sharp whistle, a sea of bubbling mud with the smell of rotten eggs burst forth from under the mounds. It knocked the attackers off their feet. The mud flowed through the gaps in their armor as the marauders tried to get up, cursing. Their armor gave way with a squelch, but Longbeard attacked them with more mud. They were almost submerged when the alchemist muttered something, and thick branches—roots!—lifted them all out of the mud.

But Longbeard was already at Blacktooth's side. He didn't wait for his opponent to get up, swinging his sword and slashing the leather armor, but the bandit's two daggers stopped him. And then Longbeard hit him on the head with his shield and slit his throat with a disgusted growl.

He lunged at the Silent One, but he was already on his feet. Their weapons clashed loudly. The power of the axe knocked Longbeard back onto the slippery ground. Struggling to regain his balance, he flailed about as his feet kept slipping out from under him until he managed to stop. He let the magic flow through him again, his mouth trembling as the mud bounced nimbly toward his opponents. It splattered in all directions, even hitting Longbeard with his own spell.

The Silent snorted and wiped his eyes, attacking Longbeard with increasing fury. But Longbeard was not to be outdone, swinging his shield and striking the marauder in the side. As the attacker stumbled away, Longbeard threw down his protective armor and rushed forward to target the Furry One. But before he could reach him, Furs suddenly turned, dodged him, and threw his dagger at the alchemist. His opponent was struck while casting a spell, he grabbed his arm with a roar. The spell collapsed and backfired on its caster, covering his body with blue and green flashes.

The sweet stench of roasted flesh made Longbeard's nose wrinkle.

"Only two of you are left," he grumbled irritably. "Who's going first?" Although his sword was already moving toward Furs. This one seemed an easier target than the Silent, on whom he wanted to focus all his attention. Just get it over with quickly, he thought, but then, out of nowhere, a sword sliced through the air and cut off Silent's head, and the roots that had been helpful just a moment ago now twisted around Furs, pulling him to the ground. His stubby fingers tore and ripped at the tree. During the struggle, his cap fell from his head, revealing his wounded and festering scalp. The root wrapped itself tighter and tighter around his neck as he glared at Longbeard with eyes narrowed with hatred.

"Let all your hair fall out!" he hissed before the earth finally took him.

Longbeard grunted in protest, then cautiously looked around, but at that moment slow, mocking applause rang out from among the trees and a cloaked figure stepped forward.

"Well done," said the raspy voice.

"You!" Longbeard pointed his sword at her as the rage of enlightenment filled his head. "How did you get here?

"Quickly."

"You led them here, they didn't find me by accident! Do you deny it?"

"I like the way you work," said the elf, pushing back her hood.

"What did you do to that dragon to make the whole forest swarm with his mercenaries?!"

"I already told you, he has something that belongs to me. A book. Full of important spells from the time of ancient magic."

"What does that have to do with me?" Longbeard burst out.

"Looking at you, it's been a long time since you had a honest job." She pointed to his poor weapons. "Join me and your reward will be as high as Donna", purred the elf.

"While you're being chased by a dragon? Find someone else!" Longbeard waved her away. "There's an inn a day's journey north of here. You can hire some tough guys there. If you want, I'll go with you, though I doubt you'll need my help."

"I'm heading south, just like you." She picked up her sword and cleaned it with a swipe.

"What's so special about that book anyway? There are tons of old writings scattered among the ruins." Longbeard spread his arms.

"It contains the names of everything. And whoever knows the true name becomes the most powerful wizard."

"That sounds dangerous," Longbeard muttered. Especially in your hands.

"That's exactly why that crazy Red has no business having it. He's just too powerful," the woman said, wrinkling her delicate nose. Even Longbeard could feel her anger, his head was throbbing as if it were caught between two anvils.

"Then why don't you steal it from him? Or use magic to bring it back to you?"

"I would, if I knew what it looked like."

"Didn't you say it was yours?"

"It is mine."

"It doesn't seem that way to me," muttered Longbeard, as a bad feeling settled in his stomach like stones. He found his bag and slung it over his shoulder, ready to leave, but his stomach growled.

The elf raised one of her beautifully arched eyebrows and pulled a portion of roasted thighs, enough for a dwarf, from her magically deep bag. The smell made Longbeard's body growl even louder.

"What's your name, dwarf?" The woman walked away into the trees, further away from the corpses.

"Manydi... Longbeard, and you?" He took off his helmet.

"You can call me Kashmir."

Her scratchy voice made his ears itch, but he had been living on frozen bread for a day. Not even a single bitter stone frog had crossed his path. He would have eaten even that now.

"Why do you want that book?" he mumbled after they began their feast.

"I have a friend who needs it."

"For what?"

"To defeat the armies of the Black Sand." Kashmir's eyes narrowed.

"That mad kingdom has cunning leaders, and its armies blacken the battlefields. It's no easy task." Longbeard bought another leg. What interest do you have in this anyway?

So that I can settle in Gallera after the fall of the Black Sand.

Why there? I've been there once, but I would never settle in that place. Nothing but sand and heat, not for me. They don't even have a decent inn!

"Ever since the Red showed his ugly face here, this place has become small. I long for a warmer climate and treasures.

"Hah!" Longbeard snorted. "That sounded like... like..." An icy lump formed in his stomach, but he finally pushed it away and cleared his throat. "And you say you have this friend who..."

"Who is already resisting, but could use a little dragon claw-sized help..."

Longbeard looked at the elf suspiciously. Whether she was telling the truth or not, he knew one thing for sure: no treasure was worth him setting foot in a dragon's lair!

"Then let's go," Kashmir said, brushing the snow off her clothes. "But first..." She strode up to Longbeard. She waved her hand casually, and Longbeard spun around as if caught in a whirlwind. The woman's throat trembled at the familiar sound, and by the time she had finished the spell, even Longbeard's boots were spotless.

"I haven't said yes yet!" He adjusted his helmet. "We're only going south together! And I expect you to pay me properly for my escort!"

"What payment? You just said I didn't need it!" Kashmir smiled smugly. "Now that you mention it, after the corpses, I'm entitled to most of the loot, and you get a tenth.

"But right after that, you sent four bandits after me, half of it!

"A third.

"Half!

"All right, you can keep a third!" Kashmir held out her hand maliciously, which made Longbeard's mouth sour, but he felt the magical power emanating from the woman again, so he just huffed angrily.

Have I thought this through well enough? He clenched his teeth, but then another worrying thought popped into his head. His hand wandered up to his hair and touched the decorative clasp holding the bottom together. His grandfather had made it for him when his hair had grown long enough. He carefully stroked the braid.

"Furs said that... do you think this kind of curse works too?"

"Don't be silly!" Kashmir snapped, then shrugged. "Only if you believe in it... but I think I see a bald spot on the top of your head..."

"That can't be, no one in the family was bald, except..."