Chapter 6

Gjorn awoke in the dreary infirmary, smelling of clean sheets and bleach. Taking a deep breath, the King saw he was alone here, save for the rain hammering against the thick windows on the rim of the ceiling, it was quiet. The brightly burning arc lanterns hurt his eyes, reaching up a pain snapped up his arm. 

The IV drip snagged hard against the metal stand it hung from, a true luxury to have in the field like this. Medical equipment was typically only seen in the actual cities of the Nations, then again, he was King. The noise alerted someone outside, the scrap of a chair against the hard cobblestone floor. While he was sitting up, the door opened.

Hjalti and King Halgier came walking into the room, followed quickly by the Surgeon that was a permanent fixture to the Clan. Hjalti hobbled over to him, placing is frail old hand on mine. "Boy, where have you been? When you activated that rune, all hell broke loose. What did you learn, I hope by Koroth's mossy beard it was worth it!"

"Do not speak that name." The room rumbled with his voice, shaking the dust from all the corners. The groan of the timbers signaling the warning of fatigue. He had spoken with the same voice he had when he was in the Elsewhere, watching as all three Dwarves heads snapped to him as if they were compelled and forced to listen to his words. 

"What? I don't understand, you were not this powerful when you left. You only had a greater talent, now you manipulate sound itself?" Hjalti said cautiously.

"Do me a favor and suppress the magic in my voice, Seer." Gjorn said, trying to hold back the power but not successfully as the room rumbled again. 

The old man tapped his gnarled old staff on the ground, an eerie blue flame sparking to life in the nock of the old branch. A silencing spell washed over the four, the air feeling dead, and stagnant. Gjorn only then realized he could no longer hear a soft melody that filled his ears, a soft and subtle thing. Was that what she meant?

"Another, more powerful." Gjorn said, his voice rippling in waves across the thick air, the flame in Hjalti's staff. His eyes wide, apparently unprepared for something so easily phase through his spell. 

The old man stood, twirling the staff in his hands to make the rough shape of a circle, tracing a few runes through the air. The air felt necrotic, suffocating, their skin turning pale in effect of the magic, magic lost within the sphere of influence. "Hum the notes to the song, Hjalti, this song needs to be stronger. Hum the words of the runes and it will be stronger..." His voice numbed, but still effecting the other three men. 

He cocked his head, but did as he was told. A simple five note melody, up and then down. The sphere solidified around them, a cancellation of reality around them. Gjorn twitched at the silence, total, and absolute. Hjalti sat marveling at the strength of it, staring down at his hands. 

"Let me tell you a few things. But first. An order, abandon this fortress. I will not hold our retaking of Mhuzelt on the grave of a fallen Goddess, this is cursed place, and we need to leave." Halgeir raised his brow but said nothing beyond flagging down a messenger, leaving out the reason, the order was relayed to the Generals in the fortress.

"The grave of a fallen Goddess. Who? Azu? Koroth? This being a cursed site makes sense after you figured out that rune structure the shadows came to life. Hell incarnate, boy. It was a bloodbath for anyone not caught in direct sunlight or strong enough lamplight. By all reports they had crawled their way down to that chamber and engulfed it for a while. Though they couldn't actually touch it, a crawling mass of angry wraiths and amorphous shades." Hjalti said, placing his hands on his knees. 

"Do not speak their names." Though the power was felt by them, they could resist it. Though Hajlti's mouth fell open in stunned silence at Gjorn's ability to still use his magic in their dead field. "The 'gods' we know are a lie. They are the Shadows that plague this place, that giggling shade that hid in the corner that killed those three Gnomes, that was Azu. They are the nightmares that rot our soldiers dreams, they are the death and destruction we wrought here!"

Gjorn couldn't control himself, ripping the IV out of his eyes as he bellowed at the trio for speaking the 'gods' names. "That rune down there was a gateway! One they had been hunting for a very long time, since before the Hammer Strike! Since before the Dawn! We cannot, absolutely cannot let them in! THAT PLACE IS THE LAST AND FINAL REFUGE OF THE TRUE CREATORS OF THIS WORLD!"

Halgeir placed a heavy hand on Gjorn's shoulder. Catching the fist that came up in an unearthly speed, Halgeir twisted his wrist to force him back into the cot. "Calm down, we have no idea what you are talking about, so tell us."

Grunting in pain, the Surgeon took stock of the now broken wrist of the King. Glaring up at Halgeir, he reset his bone. With a grasp Gjorn told them of what happened. How he walked Mhuzelt before it was mountains, before the skies were warped and twisted. How everything felt far more real, how he knew he was a true outsider to that place. Their ancestors were not what they thought, plains dwelling wanderers than knew no fear. 

He told them how their souls were corrupted by the 'gods' they worshipped. With tears in his eyes, he told them of how he had wished he was able to bring his Father to the Elsewhere to see the true version of it all. He lamented endlessly on how the Isle they called home was nothing more than another lie told to them by the Shadows. A war without reason, to awaken another sleeping Shadow that only ended in more misery for their people. 

When he had gotten to the part where he fought Anlyth and lost royally. He knew that any attempt to fight them would lead to a devastating defeat, those fairies were old enough at this point to being close to actual gods. He was utterly outclassed by the General, it wasn't just skill, but knowledge and technology. When he had spoken about the Queen, he was unsure why, but he had a feeling that he should leave out quite a bit about what he had seen. 

Alnya's memories felt far more sacred to him, to view the world through the eyes of a god... He couldn't bring himself to speak of it. What he had told them was that the last surviving Creator had sparred his life. Stating that she wanted to examine him, that he was too important to just slaughter. 

He went into some detail about the interaction he had, how she had to convince him to let her look into his soul. Though he had noted that she was steadfast in her assertion that she wanted consent to do so, that she felt far too nervous about touching the mind and soul of a shadow touched soul without it being willing. She had explained that she was the one to bring logic to the Great Mother's voice, a goddess of logic and reason. 

The trio sat quietly listening to his tale. Halgeir sat with chin in palm, never taking his eyes off Gjorn's, trying to see if there was a lie somewhere. Hjalti sat open mouthed the entire time, the doubt and reconciliation plain as day on his face. A lifetime a arcane study in a single conversation. The Surgeon, predominantly being stuck here, didn't know how to react. 

"Who was this goddess you had this interaction with?" Halgeir asked.

As Gjorn was about to answer, his mouth vanished. Wide eyed and surprised, he had to think about anything else than answering Halgeir's question. Only then did his mouth reappear, a raised brow was his only follow up from The Warlord.

"It would appear that all I can tell you is that she is the Queen."

Many hours later as the Bluejay stood gripping a cane that the Surgeon had given him. The wind danced across the waves as he watched his Clan pack the ships back up. A full retreat back to Mhzuchet was ordered, Gjorn had refused to allow his Clan to stay here. Not after learning what he had, he couldn't allow anymore attention be given to the runes in the chamber. He ordered the structure destroyed, sending a mining crew down there to eliminate the gateway. He would not allow the Shadows an opportunity to enter the Elsewhere, he would need to find a way back to the Elsewhere himself. 

He smiled softly listening to the song prance by in a playful harmony as the wind graced his skin. The Great Mother's song, the voice that created it all. I can hear it now, loud and clear under silent skies.