Introduction
I found this story while I was going through some old writings of mine. Judging from where it was found (a yellow notebook labeled 'Dwarves'--see my essay on Fantasy Fiction) and the invented words and terms I use throughout, as well as my own very faded and dim memory of its composition, I judge that it was originally written somewhere between 1988-1990. It seems most likely to have been written in 1989 due to its inclusion in the 'Dwarves' notebook, but I can't rule out its later addition.
I have typed it up preserving usage and word-choice without change and only tidying up some spelling, punctuation, and paragraph breaking. The original document was written as a single unending paragraph, and my use of punctuation is hard to guess, as stray marks are rampant.
A warning: I wrote this story when I was (about) 11. Although I think it better than my memory of my writing at that time, it is not very good. I recognize quite a bit of stylistic and linguistic usage that was influenced by my reading at the time.
Linguistics
This story includes elements of my second enterprise at invented language. The first was a simple substitution cypher to create the illusion of a new language (e.g. 'John' was rewritten as LYKQ, 'Coconut' (my cat) as FYFYQAW.) This new endeavor became a simple substitution of invented words for each English word. So, for instance, in the Dwarve battle cry in this text: 'Spes balt Dwarves, efnel u rea,' which translates (via one-for-one substitution) to 'Awaken all dwarves, battle is near!' Spes was the substitution for 'Awaken'; Efnel for 'battle'; etc. A few years later, when I was choosing classes for highschool, I decided to take Latin so that I could learn a non-English grammar with the intention of better constructing my own grammar.
However, I did use these words for name-construction. Atéhalfgar derives from atéh + alfgar (Death + Warrior). One result of this name-construction is the use of 'dwarve' in the singular. I remember that I intended the word to arise from daw (small) + arv(e) (life) and so its singular would be dwarve. I failed at the time to notice that the plural should not be 'dwarves' as used herein, but dwarvei, with -i as the plural marker. (This can be seen in usage throughout the text.)
The name 'Erlioliv' that appears in the text might be among the earliest occurrences of what has now become a Yoria hero, Erli'eliv, the author of the 'Honor Code'. That name appears in my latest work, Looming Thunderheads, and owes its formation to this early Linguistic enterprise.
The Text
The dwarve Kingdom had thrived for thousands of years, but now a shadow appeared in the east. It was growing. Off in the black land called Scronlor a power was gaining strength. Many believed it was Livrod returning. Scouts never came back. People on the borders came to the cities speaking of “a dark shadow on the edge of sight. The dwarve lord let them stay in the city. But many people fled, believing a siege would come next. But the years passed and no sign came. The scouts had not been sent for two years. Now, the dwarve lord sent 3 scouts to Scronlor to see if Livrod had returned. The group was made of the 3 best scouts in the city. They brought food for the 3 day journey there and 3 back. They set off early morning. Norl, Teln, and Polt were their names. Norl was a miner when he wasn’t a scout. Teln was a forger, and Polt was a Magic Lord who studied the fire magic.
They were clad in mail shirts—except Polt who wore a blue cloak and carried a staff. He also wore a sword inside his cloak. The other two also carried swords. Teln had an ash bow and a quiver full of arrows. One was painted red on the tip. Norl had an ax.
They walked through the forest surrounding the city. The leaves were browning. The group made their way through the forest. At the end of the day they made camp on the edge of the forest. Polt sent a blast of magic through his staff, onto the wood and started a fire.
Norl fingered his ax. A frown was on his face. “What’s wrong?” asked Polt.
“I haven’t cut into the necks of atéhalfgari in a long time,” Norl replied.
“The capernsrot have evaded my staff for a long time too,” Polt said.
Norl laid down his ax and laid back. “I’m going to sleep.”
They set a revolving guard and went to sleep. About midnight, Norl woke Polt up. It was Polt’s turn for watch. “Ignore the eyes.” was all Norl had to say before he went to sleep. Polt got up and sat at the base of a tree. After a few minutes eyes appeared. They surrounded him completely. They swayed and moved up, down, side to side, and in circles. His eyes followed the eyes. Everything faded. All there was were the eyes. His past disappeared, the eyes were his life. A hand touched his shoulder. He awoke from his daze with a start. The hand belonged to Norl.
“Ignore the eyes.” Polt blinked and the trees came back. The eyes disappeared. Polt got up and staggered around. Norl stood and watched. Teln stirred in his blankets. He awoke with a start.
“We better move on now,” said Norl. “While you were sleeping—and falling under the eye spell—I scouted this area. Many Atéhalfgari are wandering around this area. War is brewing.”
They set off. On the horizon before them, across a vast plain, there was a shadow. An emense mass of grey cloud that slowly advanced west. It stretched from the ground to the sky, a mass of billowing grey. The sky was dark above them. Dark grey clouds were blocking the moonlight. It started to sprinkle. Penlori—the red flies of Scronlor buzzed around their head. They didn’t know when dawn came but in a few hours the rain was coming down in blinding sheets. They couldn’t go further until the rain stopped.
They laid down on the lee side of a hill. “This must be the hill the hornëöirth is in,” said Teln grimly. They all knew the stories of the horror of the hill called the hornëöirth.
“If this is that hill, we’re in trouble,” said Norl. He drew out his sword. His other hand gripped his ax handle. Nothing happened. They waited. The rain grew worse. The flies were hording in the safety where they were. The three were covered with Penlo bites. The flies were a biting mass. Still they waited. The flies wouldn’t let them sleep. Teln dozed off. He didn’t really sleep just closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander. Suddenly Norl leapt up. “Atehalfgari,” he said. He sheathed his sword and drew his ax. “Spes balt dwarves, efnel u rea.” [in common speech: “Awaken all dwarves, battle is near.”] Nolt cried the ancient battle cry of the dwarves and ran into the rain. He disappeared almost instantly. His cry had awaken Teln who was now getting ready to run off after Norl.
“No, stay here,” said Polt. “Let Norl attack, we’ll hold the fort here.” Teln sat back down. Hours passed. Norl didn’t return.
“Should we go after him?” asked Teln.
“No, he’ll come back,” replied Polt. After a few more hours and still didn’t return Polt became worried. “Let’s go after him now.”
He got up. No sooner had he stirred giant green hands grabbed his ankles. They started to pull him into the muddied ground. He grabbed his sword and started hacking at the hand. When his first blow fell, pain exploded in his own hand. Screaming he toppled over. Strong hand grabbed him and straightened him immediately a great ax hacked the hands away. No pain was in the hands this time. The bloody stubs retreated back into the ground.
Once again Norl had saved him. They decided to start off again. The rain had lessened and they made good progress. At the end of the “day” they were only one day’s march away. That night when it was Polt’s turn to stand watch he sat by a rock. Suddenly the rock came alive, grew legs, and attacked Polt.
“Ahhh” he screamed.
“You’re having a nightmare. Calm down,” said Norl.
Polt sighed and layed back. The next day the company went another small march before the rain once again hindered their progress. This time they had no shelter. The Penlori didn’t come that day.
That night a band of Atéhalfgari attacked. Norl leapt up, his ax swinging. 3 fell dead. Polt sent a wall of fire around them. 5 more died in the fire. A capernsrot made a geyser and put out his fire. Immediately Atéhalfgari rushed through. The first one fell with dead with an arrow through his throat. Teln didn’t stop there, his bow kept singing. Fire met water as Polt’s staff blazed against the capersrot’s staff. Norl disappeared. The water was advancing. Suddenly an az rose and fell in quick succession. The 4 remaining Atéhalfgari fell dead. The capernsrot was distracted. His magic faltered. With a burst of energy Polt sent a blast of fire at the capernsrot. When the fire hit it, it burst with a flash and was reduced to ash.
Norl walked up. “The capernsrot would have killed you.” Once again Norl had come to the rescue. That afternoon they came to the grey shadow. The rain had long since died out and the sky was clear.
“Well, now what?” asked Teln.
“We go in,” said Norl. He walked up to the shadow and inserted his arm. When he drew it back it was black. Polt jumped forward and examined the arm. It was charred and burnt.
“It’s a mirage,” said Norl. “Feel it.”
Polt put his hand on Norl’s arm. It was cold and smooth. Polt put his arm in the shadow. Nothing happened. “Let’s enter.”
As they walked the grey cloud turned black and became more dense. The cloud hindered their movement. Twice they found themselves lying face down on the ground. Twice they got to their feet and staggered on. Somewhere in that vast cloud they lost Teln. They didn’t notice until they had emerged from the cloud.
“Teln’s gone,” said Polt.
Norl grumbled, “No way to find him. Could’ve fallen somewhere and couldn’t get up.”
They sadly continued.
Beyond the cloud there were very few atéhalfgari, instead there was bands of Enomwoloi wandering around. Some had joined into small villages. The wandering ones were all going towards the cloud. Scronriln (black children) and Netoswogglëi (stone wolves) were also numerous. The two dwarves carefully went towards the river ahead. They couldn’t see any way across. When they reached the river they noticed a ferry taking troops across. They decided to attach the bent figure at the wheel and go across the river. Polt knelt behind a rock. Norl crept away. Suddenly something hit Polt on the back of the head. He blacked out.
* * *
He awoke in a cell. The walls were red. In one corner there was a bench. Norl was unconscious on the floor. Two other figures were watching him.
“Your friend put up quite a fight,” said one.
“Who are you?” asked Polt groggily. His sight was still foggy and he couldn’t tell who (or what) they were.
“I’m an elf from the green forest. My name is Stellnor,” the taller one said.
“How’d you get here?” asked Polt.
“I am a scout. I saw a battle brewing. Atéhalfgari were surrounding a band of three travelers. Among them was a staff bearer. A ring of fire went up...” Stellnor began.
“We know the story, for those three travelers were us two and another,” said Polt, interrupting.
Stellnor said, “Where is the other?”
“Alas, but we lost him in the cloud,” said Polt.
Just then Norl stirred. The two figures looked at him. Norl jumped up.
“Enomwoloi! Attack!” he ran forward. Then he realized he didn’t have his ax.
“Norl,” said Polt, “stay back. These two are not Enomwoloi. They are elves.”
Norl sat down on the floor.
“Actaually, one is an elve, I am a man.” The other spoke. “My name is Trosu. I am from the mountains around the green forest. My tale is the elve’s tale. What of yourself?” He had been looking at Polt.
Polt told the tale of their journey—leaving out the eyes.
“Well. That will take a while to digest. I didn not know the hornëöirth had awakened,” said Stellnor.
“Let’s not worry about past events, let’s get out of this cell,” said Norl.
“No. First Trosu and Stellnor’s tale,” said Polt. Then he realized he still had his staff.
“We left the forest days ago. That night a band of Atéhalfgari attacked us. We drove them off. But we were trailed for the next 3 nights. Finally they captured us—with the help of a capernsrot—and we awoke here. Then they brought you here,” Trosu said. “It was during those 3 days we saw you. I’m afraid it was our fault the Atéhalfgari found you.”
“Well, that’s over. Let’s get out,” said Norl.
“Stand back!” said Polt. A surge of energy went through his staff. The door burst into flame. He withdrew his power. The fire went out. The door was unscathed.
“Let me,” said Stellnor. He reached down and drew a miniature, concealed staff from his boot. Raising it he sent a surge of power towards the door. It formed into a tornado and surrounded the door. The door burst and was blown away by the tornado. Stellnor collapsed.
Polt ran forward. Stellnor pushed all helping hands away and got to his feet. “I study the Air Magic.”
A capernsrot was in the doorway. It set its staff to the ground.
“A ground magic follower!” said Stellnor. “On the bench!”
They all leaped to the bench. As Trosu’s feet left the ground, the whole cell began to shake. Polt sent a blast of fire towards the capernsrot. It burnt to ash. A group of enomwoloi crowded around the door. They shot arrows into the cell. Every arrow burnt to ash except one that Norl grabbed and snuck to the door. He reached out and around and buried the arrow to the feather in the black heart of an enomwoloi. It fell dead. The others fled. Norl lead the company down the corridor after the enomwoloi. Polt sent a blast of fire and burnt 2 of them to ash. The last one ran behind a door. Fire and air lashed at the door. It burst. They ran down another corridor. Trosu held a piece of the door as a club. Stellnor and Polt wielded their staffs. Norl still held the sword he had taken from the enomwoloi.
Peering around a corner they saw 2 capernsrot carrying a prisoner. He was Teln. Norl grabbed the piece of door Trosu held and hurled it at the capersrot. It knocked the staff away. Immediately it was burnt to ash. The other capernsrot was slammed against the wall by a sudden gust of wind from Stellnor’s staff. Norl ran to Teln.
“Let’s get to somewhere sage, then we’ll plan something,” said Trosu.
They continued down the corridor. An unguarded door was at the end.
“My bow is in there,” said Teln. “I saw them put it in there.”
They came to the door. Norl held his sword ready. He kicked the door in and jumped in. No one was there. On a table in the far corner was an ax, 2 bows, 2 quiver full of arrows, 3 swords, and a mace. They all ran forward, recognizing their weapons. As soon as they all were in the room the door slammed shut and a portcullis came down. Then a door opened and ten enomwoloi ran in. The weapons disappeared in their hands. Teln, Polt, Stellnor, and Trosu were taken quikly, but Norl fought. Five enomwoloi were killed before Norl was subdued. They were knocked unconscious.
* * *
Polt awoke. He was alone. It was pitch black. Then he realized his eyes were closed. They opened involuntarily. He wasn’t alone. Teln, Stellnor, and Trosu were huddled in a corner and whispering. Norl wasn’t anywhere around. The room was very similar to the other room, but the walls were blue. The other three noticed he was awake and were watching him. He got to his feet. A dizziness took him, and he fell over. He felt his head. His hand came away bloody. Blood dripped into his eyes. He tried to wipe it away. He couldn’t. On the floor there was a pool of blood, his blood. Finally Teln came forward.
“The guards had a little sport while you were unconscious. That’s what they did,” he said, pointing at Polt’s wound. Teln tore a piece of cloth from his cloak and wrapped it around Polt’s head. Just then the door opened and 4 enomwoloi threw Norl in. Norl leapt up and tried to attack them, but they had closed the door. He collapsed by the door and lay still. Teln ran to him. Polt crawled over. Norl was still alive.
“They tortured me! I couldn’t help it. But I also lied! Nooo! I won’t! You won’t! The dwarves will survive! You will perish.”
That was all they could get out of Norl before he lapsed into unconsciousness.
“How’s your friend?” asked Stellnor. He and Trosu hadn’t moved.
“He’ll be fine,” said Teln.
“He’s a gallant fighter,” said Trosu.
“He does that to survive,” said Teln. “It is said that the only battle he lost was against Livrod himself.” Teln stooped to listen for Norl’s breath.
“He fought against the evil lord—Livrod—and lived? That was a nighty deed!” said Trosu in amazement. “No one who survives in a battle against Livrod needs be ashamed he lost.”
“He feels that he failed, says if he gets an ax and faces Livrod he’d put a large dint in Livrod’s head,” said Polt feeling his head.
“Yes, but mortal weapons will not harm Livrod. Only the netosédornel can kill him.” said Stellnor.
“Yes, but that stone is buried deep under this place, if indeed it is the Dark Tower,” said Polt.
“And we must find a way to get to it,” said Teln standing up.
“We can’t do anything now. At least not until Norl regains consciousness,” said Stellnor calmly.
For the next hour Norl lapsed in and out of consciousness. He kept rambling about “It’s not there anymore,” and, “The dwarves will destroy you! If they are not afraid to use it.” Once he jumped up and started beating his head against the wall. Teln pulled him down. After the hour, Norl was awake but groggy.
“The...stone...under...no more...it’s gone!” Norl said.
“Does he mean the netosédornel?” asked Trosu. “For if so, we are doomed.”
“You are not doomed, the stone which is called netosédornel has not been destroyed, nor has Livrod discovered its whereabouts. The netosédornel has been discovered by a band of dwarve miners, although they do not know what it is. I will allow each of you to escape and get the stone if you swear an oath to do so.”
The voice came from behind them. While he was talking, they turned. The voice came from a figure who was twice as tall as Stellnor, the tallest among them. He was glowing white and held a large staff. They could not distinguish his face, but his name immediately jumped into their heads. He was Erlioliv, one of the Olnriln or Star Children.
“Erlioliv,” whispered Stellnor.
“Heal our friend,” Teln said, pointing at Norl.
“I will heal each one of you if you go to gain the stone. Will you go?” said Erlioliv.
“Yes. I will go,” said Trosu.
“I too!” said Teln, jumping up.
“I will go!” said Stellnor.
“We will all go,” said Polt. “Please bring our friend with us. He cannot say if he wants or not, but he is Norl of the dwarves and he did battle with Livrod, and although he did not win, he survived. Now he comes back from a mental battle with Livrod, and he seems to know of the stone’s disappearance.” Polt finished with a sigh.
“He I know well. He may come without saying, but if he does not wish to continue, he will find himself back here in this cell. When you awaken you will be one day behind the miners. Do not stray from that path, or the protection of my hand will not be upon you. Be careful.” With that he disappeared and they fell asleep.
* * *
When they awoke, they were surrounded by hills in a small valley. But there was no sky: above them there was a rock as if they were in a cavern. A large pedestal stood to their right. It was alone. It had a sign on it. It was in the alphabet of the dwarves.
“O netosédornel rotseyi e liv,” read Stellnor. “I do not know what it means for I am not learned in the dwarve language.
Polt looked at the pillar closer. “The pillar has sword cuts in it.”
They all peered at the place he pointed. Clear sword cuts showed that a battle had recently been fought there. A sword, broken a little above the hilt, lay on the ground. Ancient runes covered it. None of them could read it. They decided to follow the tracks they found around the pillar. As the hills ahead rose steadily on the horizon, the company walked on. Each worried that the ones who attacked the finders of the netosédornel would attack them. Red patches of rock appeared now and again. After a while the red rock became larger and more often. Finally it was everywhere. The tracks were hard to find.