A Paladin's Journey Ch. 16

A PALADIN'S JOURNEY

CHAPTER 16: The Eastern Gates

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Aran and Elaina followed Burin through the bowels of Dun'Arghol. Over the course of hours, they passed through winding passages, cavernous halls and descended several sets of wide stone steps, many of which were without railing or balustrade and promised a long fall into darkness for any foolish enough to slip.

A small retinue accompanied them, led by captain Finya and several of the Dwarves Aran recognised as being with Finya when he'd first met her. Finya led the way, followed by Burin, whom Aran and Elaina trailed. Half a dozen soldiers brought up the rear, the creaking and clinking of their armour reverberating throughout the seemingly infinite expanses of these mountain chambers.

As a precaution, Aran had stopped by his rooms to retrieve Oroth, and Elaina had done the same with Shatter. No one spoke as they moved ever deeper into the mountain, and the further they went, the fewer Dwarves they encountered along the way.

Aran used the time to think. There was something he'd felt while raising his vala earlier, something other than the Noroth. Or rather, it was something he had not felt, like an empty hole where there was supposed to be... Well, something other than emptiness. He hadn't mentioned it to Elaina, and she hadn't brought it up, so he assumed she had not sensed it. Whatever it was, Aran was sure it wasn't good. His vala-memories had not been any help, either.

"Some of these halls are all but forgotten," Burin said at one point as they passed through a spacious room lined with wide, square stone columns as thick as two men and reaching up to a ceiling that had to be a hundred feet high. Arrays of stone tables were set throughout the room, neatly placed to make clean lines facing the front of the hall where a low platform stood. "This was a school, not so long ago," Burin continued. "But the tremors have chased many of my people closer to the surface. It's safer up there. It is a sad day for a Dwarf when he fears being deep beneath the ground."

Aran nodded in understanding, and he felt a pulse of sympathy through the melda from Elaina as she eyed Burin's back. "Vasuda will be brought down, one way or another," Elaina said firmly as they passed through the long hall. "He cannot be allowed to terrorise the world."

Burin chuckled. "If you are as strong as you are beautiful, Elaina arohim, then I fear for the Stonelord's future." After a moment, he added, "Though how such a thing can be done, I do not understand. The Stonelord is a Titan, a Guardian of the World. Surely, we are but ants beneath his boots."

"The Utok'lakapa were once benevolent," Aran responded. "But Maharad's whispers seduced them. The War ended before they could be put to full use under Morgeth, but now they awaken once again, one by one. If something is not done soon, then the samana will happen once again, and Maloth will be able to remake the world as he sees fit."

"Your words comfort me not, Paladin," Burin said wryly as he walked through an archway that led to a smaller passage. Smaller, but still wide enough for them all to walk abreast and tall enough for a Noroth to pass through without stooping. "Things are dire enough without adding talk of events which we cannot stop."

"I believe they can be stopped," Aran countered. "If their link to Maharad can be severed, then I think the Titans will resume their former natures." What Burin thought about that, Aran was left wondering, for the Dwarven king said nothing further until Finya stopped at what appeared to be a dead end to the passage.

Placing her gauntleted hands at specific points on the smooth, polished stone, Finya called one of her soldiers. A well-muscled Dwarf moved up beside the captain - Lombi, Aran thought his name was - and put his own hands on the wall. There was a grinding sound, then the wall began to slide to the side.

As soon as the barest crack in the stone became apparent, fresh, cold air gusted in, rippling cloaks and tugging at hair and beards. A steady rain was falling outside, and the wind was strong enough to blow it into the passage, peppering Aran with frigid drops.

"This is where I leave you," Burin said, raising his voice over the grinding of the door and the keening of the wind. He pointed to where the wall was still sliding open. "This is the only passage between the mountains south of the Heartlake. Follow it and you will come to the Gates. Tell the Oron'noroth I sent you."

Burin had not mentioned earlier that he would not be accompanying them right to the Gates, but Aran was not surprised. Burin's spirit was torn, at present, and his mind uncertain. Not an easy thing for one in charge of hundreds of thousands of lives.

"And what of you, Burin Konungr?" Aran asked, using the Dwarven tongue to address Burin as king. "Vili ru bifask norori? Hafa mir, minn Konungr. Bu heimr purfa bu Dvergr." Will you march north? Believe me, my King. The world needs the Dwarves.

Burin studied Aran for long moments. Aran was tempted to use his vala to align with him, but restrained himself yet again. You can sit here and weep for your sister, or you can put that pain and anger to use and get her back. He aimed the thought at Burin as if he could will the man to see sense.

"I will decide on the morrow," the king replied finally. "I must consider what is best for my kingdom. The door will be closed as soon as you are through. Good luck with your journey, arohim." At that, Burin rounded Aran and started back the way they'd come. All the guards trailed him bar Finya, who remained by the open wall.

Elaina shook her head as she watched Burin retreat. "I still don't know why you won't let me align with him," she muttered, barely audible over the wind. "Or even slip into his bed. One night with me and he'll bloody well decide."

Aran chuckled. "No doubt. But we must be careful with him. As uncertain as he is, he is still strong. I made a mistake by aligning with the whole city earlier. I thought it would impress him, move him to action, but it only caused him to dig in his heels. I fear that if we push him further, he may rebel. The choice must be his and his alone."

He touched Elaina's face and her eyes came up to meet his. "I need you to stay, my love, and keep an eye on things here while I'm gone." He half expected Elaina to erupt, then, and tell him in no uncertain terms that she would accompany him whether he wished it or not, but she merely nodded, and the melda reflected only a streak of sadness.

"I had a feeling it would be this way," she said. Rain had plastered a few strands of her fair hair to her cheek, and Aran gently brushed them back before kissing her. A sudden tug pulled at his middle, then, a familiar sensation he hadn't felt for some time; his vala was pulling him east. Away from Elaina.

"I'll see you on the Plane," she breathed against his lips. Her eyes were closed. "And when you return." After a moment, she added, "Don't make me wait too long."

Aran grinned and kissed her again. "I am sometimes a fool, my love, but not that much of a fool." Forcing himself to stop kissing her, he gently stepped away and turned for the opening. Finya bowed respectfully as Aran approached, then jumped when he leaned in and kissed her briefly on the lips.

"Thank you, for everything, Captain," he said warmly. "I hope we see each other again soon."

Finya barked a laugh. "Can't say I'm happy to see you go, Aran Sunblade, but I'll enjoy watching you leave." When Aran looked at her curiously, she laughed again, louder this time.

With a final look back at Elaina, who waved to him with an expression equal parts sad and loving, Aran stepped out into the chill wind and rain. His cloak and clothes became soaked immediately, and he raised his vala a little to keep his body warm. The grinding of stone behind him said the opening was sliding closed. He didn't look back again; he could still sense Elaina, just on the other side of the wall. Already he missed her, but their bond was total, and he took solace in being able to sense her no matter how distant they were apart.

Shrugging uncomfortably in his wet garments, he moved off into the mountain passage. No wider than three men abreast, the narrow corridor was sided by sheer slabs of rock and granite. No daylight was visible from above; either it was night, or he was so far down into the mountains that light could not reach him.

His thoughts turned over in his mind as he walked the rocky, uneven path that wound through the Amarion Peaks, snaking its way left and right, up and down where necessary. Occasionally the path widened a little, sometimes enough for a wagon and team, or narrowed to a space he had to squeeze through sideways. Always, though, the way remained clear.

Aran had wished so badly to grant Elaina's wish and align with Burin, but each time a gut feeling had stopped him. He couldn't say exactly why, but he somehow knew that the consequences of that choice would have been catastrophic. Burin was the key to taking back the southwest from the Heralds. The Elves and Humans alone were not enough. With this matter in the balance, Aran could only imagine why his vala was pulling him away from Dun'Arghol, but he had learned long ago to trust in Aros.

The lands to the east were largely unexplored, and little trade passed through from the other side of the Amarions. Aran had his suspicions about what things lay on the other half of Ekistair, but they were yet to be confirmed. With luck, the Oron'noroth would have the knowledge he needed.

*

Hours later, Aran emerged from the passage into a vast, open cavern. With the boundaries of the space lost to his vision, he opened his vala to read his surroundings. A quarter-mile across and two-hundred feet high, the cavern was huge. At the other end he could sense a massive structure made of stone and metal, a hundred feet across and stretching all the way to the ceiling. The Eastern Gates, no doubt.

Two massive Giants stood at the gates, their towering figures standing at fifty or sixty feet. They were unclothed, and their skin was as smooth, polished stone. Aran couldn't tell the colour; the vala could not do so. Naked as they were, it was obvious that one figure was male and the other female, and both were impressive specimens of their sex.

The male was broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted. Long hair and a beard seemingly made of fine threads of metal graced his face, giving him a godly appearance. The female was no less remarkable. Full-breasted and round-hipped, her long hair fell down around her face and flowed down her body almost to her waist.

Both Oron'noroth were stiff as statues, unmoving, though Aran could feel their heartbeats thumping in their chests like huge, slow drums. It was into those hearts that Aran searched, feeling for their intentions. Unfortunately, these near-mythical beings were so far different from Human or Elf or Dwarf that Aran could not distinguish their natures. It was like trying to draw parallels between a horse and a tree.Distinguishing a line between good and evil was not always so simple. Something tickled the back of Aran's mind at that thought, but it vanished before he could grasp it.

There did not appear to be any other life in the cavern apart from a few insects and grubs and several bats flapping about up near the ceiling. The air was certainly less musty, with the cave opening to clear sky on the other side of the gates.

"It has been long," the male's voice rumbled suddenly. The bass tones reverberated throughout the cavern and vibrated the rock until Aran thought the roof might fall in. "Since we have felt the touch of an arohim."

"Very long," the female added, her voice lighter but no less powerful. "And never one so strong. Approach, young one, so that we may see you."

Aran did as asked. There was an ancient air about the Giants, and he wanted to show them respect. He walked forward quickly, and in a few minutes, he was standing before them, his head no higher than their ankles. Through the man-thick iron bars of the monstrous gate behind them, stars glittered in the night sky outside and a crescent moon shone, only partially obscured by puffy clouds, small and fast-moving.

In the moonlight, Aran could discern their complexion. Her skin seemed made of smooth, creamy marble, while his was darker and mottled, like granite. Her hair was like fine strands of onyx, but shifted and moved like ordinary hair, impossible as it seemed. The man's beard and hair were like silver, shining softly in the faint light from behind him.

Two sets of eyes came open to stare down at Aran like four silver orbs, glowing softly in the darkness. "You are indeed young," the female remarked, her full lips curving in a smile. "For such wisdom."

"Yes," the male agreed. "You must be him. The Anarion."

Aran inclined his head. "I am he, great ones."

"Long have we waited," the female replied. "Many have come, but none were granted passage but for one."

"Who did you allow passage?" Aran asked, curious.

"It matters not," the male answered. "And that time has long since passed."

Long moments stretched on in silence, until Aran decided to speak again. "With respect, noble guardians," he began, bowing deeply. "I seek passage to the eastern lands. I am driven by great need."

"The gates are shut," the male said.

"The gates are shut," the female echoed.

Aran frowned. "King Burin sent me. Can the way not be opened?"

"Burin does not command the gates, nor us," the male boomed. "Only we decide who is allowed passage."

"And only those of worth are allowed," the female finished.

"But is Burin not the Keeper of the Gates?" Aran asked. He felt like he was missing something.

"Once, he was," the male answered. "But no longer."

"Night falls on the land," the female added. "And the shadows lengthen."

"That is why I must pass!" Aran persisted. "I am fighting the coming of the Mor'ion!"

"Your efforts are futile, Anarion," the female rumbled. "The samana is beginning. Vasuda has revealed himself, as has Rava. The end of this world is nigh." A shadow seemed to fall over the massive creatures, then, an ominous darkening. Was it just Aran's imagination?

A sudden flash of anger flared in him. "And what will you do? Stand here and await its coming? The Oron'noroth are worth a thousand soldiers each! Surely you will not abandon the world?"

"We will prevail!" The male roared, shaking the cavern with his voice. "As we have always!" His massive fist clenched at his side with a sound like two boulders being ground against one another. "Do not presume to comprehend our thinking, Paladin. We have walked this world for millennia, and your Order has been but a flicker in time, a bare handful of centuries."

The Giant was sounding alarmingly like Vasuda. Just then, Aran felt the barest whisper of another presence in the cavern. Intangible, but immense. He stared up at the Noroth and felt his expression harden. Yes, it made sense, now. "You have allowed Maharad to grasp your hearts," he said as he drew Oroth. "Reject him, or I will have no choice but to end you both." How long had they been under Maharad's sway? And how many other Giants were, too?

"You are foolish beyond measure, Anarion," the female grated, her beautiful face drawing into a menacing frown. "He is beyond time, beyond space! He is chaos unleashed! Even the Titans are nothing before His power! Submit while you can, Paladin, and perhaps He will spare you an eternity of suffering."

Oroth blazed to life in Aran's fist, illuminating the darkness around him. "That is where you are wrong," he said softly. "He would have you think he is more powerful than you can imagine, but in reality, he only has what power you give him. If you cannot see that, then perhaps the time of the Giants is at an end."

The female shook her head almost sadly. "No, young one," she said in a softer tone. "It is the time of the arohim that is at an end. Your father was right to embrace chaos, for it is a thing that cannot be ruled."

That remark would have caused Aran to falter, not so long ago, to doubt himself. "Love before hate," he whispered to himself, smiling as he remembered his mother's last words to him what felt like a lifetime ago. Two more words floated into his mind, then, coming to him through the vala.

Immellanle and Mandaralorn; the names of the female and male Oron'noroth before him. "Do you not remember the grand halls of the Temple at Caer'maralonnia, Immellanle?" Aran asked suddenly. "Or Edellein Sura, the wisest and kindest of the arohim, coming to the mountains to help build the kingdom of Dun'Arghol?" The words were not Aran's; they were being spoken through him, coursing down through the infinite vala.

Immelanle frowned slightly, and her glowing eyes narrowed a little. She brought a hand up to her head as if confused.

"And you, Mandaralorn?" Aran went on. "You fought on many battlefields under the banner of the Hammer of Light. Your wrath was legendary the world over. They say Morgeth herself feared your presence on the field, even with the Titans at her back."

"Those names," Mandaralorn murmured, closing his eyes as if remembering something he thought he'd forgotten. Aran sensed Maharad's presence again, this time more forceful, urgent even. Was it possible he didn't yet have a strong hold over the gatekeepers?

"Too long have you been tasked with keeping these gates," Aran said loudly. "Too long have you been down here in the shadows while the world passes by above. Maharad sensed your discontent and took advantage of your isolation. Look into your hearts and you will see the truth."

Suddenly, Mandaralorn groaned and fell to one knee with a colossal crash. Aran had to jump back nimbly to avoid being crushed by a huge hand. He kept Oroth ready, though the blade had cooled and returned to the colour of ordinary steel.

Immelanle knelt next to Mandaralorn, concerned, but then she uttered her own moan of pain and clutched at her head. A scream followed, and Aran winced as the cavern trembled and his eardrums threatened to burst. Thinking quickly, he enveloped the Giants in his vala to protect them from Maharad's attack. Mandaralorn began to howl in agony alongside Immelanle.

"Leave them, Maharad!" Aran bellowed, his voice swallowed by the deafening screams of the Giants. "You cannot have them!" Through the din, he could hear sinister laughter. The cavern grew darker, then, as the faint, silvery light of the moon and stars was veiled by a blanket of cloud.

"IT MATTERS NOT," a booming voice spoke, rattling Aran's mind with its force. It reminded him of when Aros had spoken with him; a power of a magnitude he could not comprehend, let alone withstand, but this time dark and terrifying instead of warm and comforting. "THE FATE OF THIS WORLD IS ALREADY DECIDED. YOUR DEATH COMES, SUNBLADE."

There was a terrible roar, followed by a strange feeling as if all the air was being sucked out of the cavern, and then there was silence, broken only by the deep breaths of the Giants as they recovered, and the thumping of Aran's heartbeat in his ears.

Sheathing Oroth, Aran stepped forward to Immelanle, who had fallen back onto her bottom, her back against the gate. Her immense bosom heaved as she gulped air. Strange, that her skin looked so like stone yet seemed to move like ordinary skin. The closest part of her was her foot - nearly as long as Aran was tall - and he placed hand gently against the inner arch. "Are you well, Immelanle?" The foreboding presence of Maharad was gone, but Aran remained ready for anything.

After a few moments, the beautiful Giantess nodded and opened her eyes. "I believe so," she answered, though her voice sounded strained. She glanced at Mandaralorn, who was still in the same position as before, on one knee with one hand braced on the ground. His massive chest expanded and contracted as he breathed.