Book 4: Chapter 49: Mountain Folk |
They followed the breeze as they made their way out. Michael offered to escort Francesca out before they left, but she surprised him by insisting on tagging along.
“It’s not a goblin, or an elf, or a dwarf. It’s a dragon. I can’t miss out on seeing that. Besides, I’ve been meaning to do some surveying in this region anyway and I’ll be even safer with all of you than I would’ve been with a dwarven guard.”
Michael certainly wasn’t going to refuse. She may not know exactly where they were on the outside of the caves, but she still knew the area better than the rest of them.
They started to encounter snowflakes and natural sun allowing Ollie to dismiss his light spells, though he kept the orbs that were producing heat to keep them comfortable. They emerged into the blinding light of day taking a few moments to adjust to it as they surveyed their surroundings. The air was thin and cold, but not horribly so, and while there was snow on the ground the day was crisp and clear. They were on a relatively flat jutting of stone that extended outward for a few yards.
Moving along it they got an excellent view of the surrounding area. Michael felt a vague pull and pointed in the direction of it.
Marcus squinted in that direction after a few moments.
“I see the start of a trail in that direction.”
They nodded and started to make their way toward the edge. There was a roughly twenty-foot drop from where they were standing. Michael just stepped off the edge prompting a yelp from Francesca. He landed heavily, only a thin cushioning of snow between himself and the stone, but he was fine.
“Showoff!” yelled Ollie from above. Then he himself carefully lifted Francesca and floated them both down with magic. After that Pyotr lowered himself down carefully with his scarf and Marcus simply climbed down very quickly, finding a number of handholds that Michael couldn’t have noticed if he’d been staring for minutes.
“Ambush ahead. Not human.”
Ollie raised a shield over himself and Francesca immediately.
“Where exactly?” asked Pyotr.
Marcus gestured vaguely to a cluster of rocks ahead of them and up above where they’d be passing.
Pyotr nodded, looking at the others.
“I’ve got it. Give me two minutes, then keep moving.”
They nodded, and Pyotr flung himself up onto the rocks above them quickly before disappearing. They waited a bit as he’d requested and then they began moving.
As they closed in Michael started to see what Marcus had noticed. Above where they’d be passing were a few patches of rock that looked suspicious. At first he thought it was some kind of animal, but then he realized it was something wearing fur.
There was a loud cry from something inhuman behind the rocks ahead and suddenly all the odd looking patches of rock and fur bolted up and headed toward it. They were goblins, larger and better dressed than the ones they’d encountered in the woods, but their uncanny appearance was impossible to mistake. They rushed behind the rocks the first cry had come from. More screams emanated from it, a goblin’s body flew into the air and smashed into some rocks more than fifty feet away, and then they saw several of them fleeing. Once it was done Pyotr gently lowered himself back down, landing in front of them.
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“Awful creatures,” he muttered, cleaning his blade with a piece of fur before tossing it to the side.
“Thanks for saving the rest of us the trouble,” responded Michael.
“You are welcome. I will not be doing it next time.”
They continued along the trail, their boots crunching snow, for a few hours when they reached a break in the craggy rock and mountain that led to a dirt path and even some trees. They found a much better worn path and began walking down it for another hour before they saw smoke in the distance.
Marcus frowned at it. “Chimney fire I think. Doubt the dragon is right there.”
“That would be too easy,” replied Ollie.
They traveled a bit further, a large village coming into view. The buildings were all relatively low and ugly, built from stone bricks and sealed with mud and hay. There were a few larger ones constructed from wattle and daub, but it all felt a bit like stepping back in time even further than when they’d all first arrived in the Humelands.
They approached slowly, trying not to take them by surprise, and were noticed by a woman in furs carrying a basket. Her eyes widened and she quickly fled into the largest of the homes.
Michael and the others decided to stop just short of reaching the town, letting Ollie’s orb of warmth sustain them as they watched the village gather people, point at them, and then gather more people. They were pale people, with mostly light hair and wore furs and leather from what he could see. A few of them had emblems of dragons that had been hammered from iron or copper on them like jewelry.
Eventually an older man with a wicked scar running along his cheek stepped out from the others and approached them.
“What are you doing here?” asked the man, sounding out the words slowly as if he hadn’t used them in some time.
“We seek the dragon,” responded Michael, speaking calmly and clearly to make sure the man understood him.
There was muttering among the villagers, they may not have spoken the same language, but apparently they took note of the word ‘dragon’.
The scarred man frowned. “Why?”
“I wish to ask for his help.”
The man frowned and turned around, conferring with a number of the others for a few moments. Before returning his attention to them.
He shrugged. “If you want die, that’s your business. Our lord will warm us with your ashes.” He pointed at the path leading out of the village. “Follow this into the mountain. You will reach.”
With that he and the other villagers dispersed, going into their homes or back about their business, ignoring them.
“I’m not really enjoying this diversion,” mentioned Marcus as he stepped a bit closer to a warming orb.
“Did you prefer the ones where we were fighting yeti? Or a war? I think you just don’t like fun,” said Ollie.
“You’re right, I’m just a stick in the mud.”
Michael was ignoring them, staring at the people moving around in front of them. Something was off with them. Not just culturally, but something deeper than that. He took a moment to divine one of them, and nothing was returned to him. He blinked and attempted both Eyes of Love and Eyes of Judgement and received nothing in return. He turned to the others, finding golden letters jump into his vision immediately, then returned to the villagers to no response.
“I can’t see any titles and deeds,” he said aloud once he’d confirmed it.
“What?” asked Pyotr.
“I just tried to check and got nothing in return. Either they aren’t connected to the divine or something else is blocking me.”
“How?” asked Pyotr.
“No idea, but I’m guessing it has something to do with all the dragon worship.” He shrugged. “Let’s get a move on. I was hoping to run into Brunhilde by now, but it's possible she’s closer than we are.”
“Can we take just a few extra moments here?” asked Francesca. “Some of the dragon emblems are a metal I don’t recognize.”
Michael shrugged. “That’s fine, I wanted to take a moment to heal everyone here anyway.”
Michael held his hand low as it glowed gold. He found that while he couldn’t sense any titles and deeds on those around him he could feel their injuries and maladies as usual. He sent out a burst of healing, curing colds and infections, sealing cuts and mending old wounds. He tried to stay subtle this time, wary of how far off the reservation they were, and didn’t want to provoke anyone unnecessarily.
Once they were done they all moved a few miles further up the path before choosing a place to sleep for the night. Michael kept watch for the majority of the night before switching off with Ollie so that he could get his few necessary hours in.
The next morning they began travelling again, finding that it seemed to be getting warmer and warmer as they continued. Eventually Ollie dismissed his warming orb and Michael found that he was actually sweating a bit inside his armor.
They crested a particularly perilous part of the path and looked downward to see the enormous stone structure Michael had seen in his vision. It was still, and below it he saw more than a hundred men and women gathered and bowing, whispers of their worship making their way up to him and the smell of blood coming with them.