Chapter 94: 93. Rumours of the Mountain Folk

“Traders from the capital…” Count Ephren said slowly. “Are you sure?”

 

“Oh yes, they apparently made quite an impression on old Esatil.” Haln said with a chuckle, obviously not noticing our discomfort. “They even said they were planning a stop over by Ithin Narnil! Now of course Esatil tried to convince them away from that, because everyone knows its better to let some places be. Nothing good comes out from poking about in old ruins like that, not when the Father Winter’s all up and awake like he tends to-”

 

“Of course, of course, stockman, such wisdom does credit to Skiersti.” Ephren interrupted. “But if I may be so bold to ask some questions: when exactly did these ‘traders’ come through? How many were with them?”

 

The stockman sniffed at the interruption of his valuable stories, but continued regardless.

 

“When? Well, I suppose it was eight days ago as Esilmor turns, maybe past half-day when they crossed the low-roads an hour’s walk south of here. A poor road, really, but you can’t really expect a lowlander like you types to know the best trails to walk. Always skipping the switchbacks in favour of cliff walks, you know. Two travellers a year we see normally, and almost all of them pursue such foolishness.” He shook his head sadly. “Of course, something’s churned up the king’s land recently, that’s obvious enough to a good stockman like me, because now we’ve gone and had not just two travellers in two weeks, but two big caravans! Never have so many soldiers walked here since the old battle of Pine Hill, you know, never so many indeed. And don’t think I’ve forgotten your last question either! I think Esatil mentioned six wagons, but that can mean quite the range, mind you. So I would guess over three tens, I think. Three tens of merchants and soldiers, though Esatil meant them rather more soldierly than merchantly if you’ll have my meaning. Roads are dangerous places in winter, and those capital types seem over-fond of having enough mages to melt through them.”

 

“I think I could dig a meaning out of that.” Count Ephren said. “Thank you.”

 

Over thirty soldiers through these mountains? That wasn’t great news in the slightest. They were obviously patrolling the lesser known routes on the hunt for spies and agitators, even going so far to disguise their efforts as merchant caravans. I could only imagine what kind of force sat waiting at the actual pass.

 

It did make me wonder, however: how much did they actually know about our plans? It was one thing for them to suspect a diplomatic mission to Fangpeak and the other duchies, but it was another thing entirely if they knew that we were currently en-route. That would mean we had a spy problem, and they would be swift spies indeed in order to beat us here. That could mean we were walking right into an ambush and the mission to Fangpeak was dead from the start.

 

“And you said they were going west to Fangpeak?” Fredrick asked. “That’s quite the strange route from the capital, isn’t it? You shouldn’t need to ascend a mountain at all to travel there.”

 

Haln laughed at that, and the rest of the elders broke into chuckles.

 

“Aye, that’s why Esatil thought too!” Haln said. “But after we thought about it I have another idea. I think they were actually trying to go over to Burgunde, not to Fangpeak, and where searching for a route over-mountain. Everyone knows those merchants like to waste good foodstock and time when they have a perfectly good road to take, but even they can’t find a road that’s not there. Could’ve asked any of us mountain-folk for that.”

 

From what I remembered of my geography, the country of Doux-Burgund was right over the northernmost mountains of Verol, though they apparently descended quite steeply into that country. Because of that, people had to take the long route through the western roads and around the Pale Mountains to get into the Burgune plains, which was a trip of multiple weeks. And knowing that aside from Brepoli, Doux-Burgund was the kingdom’s largest trade partner, so it was understandable that merchants would put effort into looking for a quicker route. 

 

“And you think they kept that effort hidden from your hunter?” I asked.

 

Unexpectedly, the elders quieted down at my words, seeming to think over a response seriously before responding.

 

“Forgive me, lady, I just suspected that they would want to keep that endeavour hidden from other merchants.” Haln said. “Merchants are a shady bunch, and paranoid of the methods of their successes being found out.”

 

I blinked at the sudden politeness in his voice, and quick glances at the others told me that Fredrick and the Count were just as confused. 

 

Had my reputation spread this far already? How was that even possible? Didn’ they only get two visitors a year normally? I can’t imagine those ‘traders’ told very many stories about me.

 

Or did they just hate me and I don’t know it? I worry about things like that sometimes.

 

“And you said they were headed towards Ithin Narnil?” Fredrick asked. 

 

The stockman’s earlier mirth had entirely evaporated, and he just nodded.

 

“In my grandfather’s time it was a great town.” Haln said. “We were beholden to the lord there before Halbrand, and it only lies a few days away. Unfortunately, it was overrun before my father was born.”

 

And ominous shiver went down my back at his words, and the fury of the storm seemed more malevolent in my ears.

 

“Overrun?” I asked. “By what?”

 

The stockman looked away from me and bowed his head. One of the other elders, a older woman, responded instead in a low voice.

 

“Demons, my lady.” She said.

 

“An entire town?” I asked. “In the middle of Verol?”

 

Fangpeak was known as a dangerous place to the rest of the kingdom, but I hadn’t been under the impression that entire towns could just disappear off the planet like that. Just what kind of place was I walking into? That I begged to be allowed to go to?

 

“Ithin Narnil was the victim of a misguided gryphonic plot.” Count Ephren said. “Accounts say that a vile cult sought the patronage of a demon and opened a portal in the middle of the town.”

 

“One of our families came from there.” Haln said. “He swears that it wasn’t no thaumaturgy at work there, but the wrath of the star. Says they were searching too closely for that Lmenli there.”

 

I leaned back a smidge to catch Silst’s attention with a wave, and after a second he bounded over to join us. The elders sat up straighter as they noticed him, glancing from me to Silst nervously.

 

“There is no Lmenli at Ithin Narnil.” Fredrick said.

 

“There is!” Haln insisted. “The Lmenli of the Deeps lies deep under Narnil.”

 

He closed his eyes and sang a verse in a shaky voice:

 

“By the light of star yet shorn,

Path of deep, dark in core,

Into earth, as Hamor mourns,

Of Narnil peak, Hakon swore”

 

Silst stiffened as he finished, and his voice soon rang through my mind.

 

That’s from the Hymn of Hakon Recklin. That’s the dwarf I was telling you about, the alternate account of the Lmenli of Deep’s trajectory.

 

I nodded absently, not sure how much to believe. Silst had been fairly adamant on the dwarf being wrong when we’d last talked about it, and I didn’t really see how an isolated village chief and his tales could be more accurate than established academia.

 

But on the other hand… what if he was? If there truly was a Lmenli there and they dug for it, wouldn’t that also mean it was possible they found skysteel there? If we visited the place, we might even find some in the ruins, assuming that it hasn’t been picked clean at least.

 

“Interesting. have never heard of such a tale.” Fredrick said. “But regardless, Ithin Narnil’s mining operations were geared for the iron vein there, not deep delving. I’m sorry, stockman, but the evidence lies with a random cult, not the star’s fury.”

 

Haln glared at Fredrick from across the table.

 

“You proclaim ignorance and still seek to correct me? Hmph. Typical lowlander.” 

 

“Summark hardly a lowland.” Fredrick muttered to himself.

 

“Regardless of the reason, it was a tragedy.” Count Ephren said. “We hope not to get close enough to see its spires, so I  suppose we won’t be meeting these travellers you mention.”

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“Hey, wait a minute, why not?” I asked. “There could be plenty of good reasons to take our road closer to this ‘Ithin Narnil.’”

 

The others looked at me in surprise, and the elders with a strange hint of fear, but I didn’t back down. If there was any chance that we could find what we needed in that ruin, I had to at least try to steer us towards it. Who knows what chances we would have on the way back.

 

“Saphry, what possible reason could you have?” Fredrick asked. “We need to make for Ithin Sele as soon as we can, we can’t be stopping for sight-seeing. Not to mention how disrespectful it would be. It’s only capital types that think visiting the graveyard town of Fangpeak is a good idea.”

 

There was another argument in his eyes as well, and it didn’t take a genius to realise that he was talking about that caravan Haln had mentioned earlier.

 

“We’ve also established that capital types are prone to lies and deceit. Why, I’ll bet that any random merchant that says he’d visit a graveyard to pay his respects might actually be found waiting on the road outside so he could peddle to travellers instead.” I nodded meaningfully. “In such a situation one might do better by shuffling off on another road instead so that he could avoid such an awkward situation.”

 

Silst sighed, obviously not thinking very much of the metaphor I’d just pulled out of my backend, but surprisingly enough the elders actually managed to look confused.

 

Count Ephren stroked his beard thoughtfully.

 

“That might actually be a valid point.” He said. “I suppose it wouldn’t be a horrible idea to pay our respects to the poor souls of Narnil.”

 

“It begets reason to make plans based on an opponent’s imagined lie towards our imagined reaction.” Fredrick said.

 

“And yet I can see it happening so clearly.” Ephren said. “I won’t twist our route on a whim, of course, but it is worth putting into consideration.”

 

I grinned, content with even that small victory. 

 

“You can’t be thinking of actually going there!” Haln cried. “Ithin Narnil is cursed! Demons roam its streets! Even the good ones can’t keep the forests safe on this peak, let alone on one so evil as Mount Narnil!”

 

I raised an eyebrow at that.

 

Good one? What kind of demon was a ‘good’ one? They didn’t have something like Izavelo around here, did they?

 

“What do you mean by that?” I asked. “Are the woods not safe around here? What’s wrong with them?”

 

He looked aghast, apparently surprised that someone had asked about it. Or rather, that I had asked about it.

 

“Ah, it’s nothing we can’t handle.” He said quickly. “Just some trouble around the starshrine we got from Ithin Narnil before it fell.”

 

Oh? Now that sounded somewhat interesting. After all, it’d already been a few weeks since I’d had a proper fight on my hands, so wouldn’t it be just right if I could get some practice in while farming goodwill at the same time?

 

“Is it a demon?” I asked. “Have you called for a paladin yet?”

 

“Well…”

 

“My lady, none of us have ever left the mountain.” The old lady next to him said. “It’s only come up in the last six months too, so we haven’t had any travellers since then.”

 

Fredrick sighed.

 

“You’ve never left the mountain and you’re warning about the danger of Ithin Narnil? How can you confidently give such useless advice with a straight face?”

 

Haln glared at the twin again and turned away with a dignified sniff.

 

“This is why we don’t leave the mountain.” He grumbled. “Lowlanders think they know everything, they don’t take their elder’s advice!”

 

“I’ll take an elder’s advice when they aren’t just making it up on the spot.” Fredrick said coolly. 

“Now listen here you-”

 

“What kind of demon is it?” I interrupted. “And where exactly is it?”

 

Fredrick, Silst, and Count Ephren all snapped their eyes to me, all three wearing varying degrees of exasperation inside them.

 

Sap-

 

“Just shush.” I whispered. 

 

The village elders all looked at each other, an unspoken discussion flitting between them before the old woman again took charge.

 

“We’re not sure exactly, our people avoid it now.” She said. “Remin’s lad Brot said it looked like a serpent of fire twice as long as a man with a head shaped like an arrowhead. And the shrine’s just up the north path up a half mile or so.”

 

I racked my mind for matches, running through all the bestiaries I’d looked through while bored in Minua. Fortunately, or unfortunately I suppose, demons were actually common enough in Verol for the main types to be categorised by the church and the lords. The smaller ones were apparently fairly common underground, while the larger ones had been summoned often enough either by idiots, spies, cultists, and overconfident thaumaturges that most of them had at the very least names and descriptions. From even that brief account, I quickly narrowed it down to between half a dozen likely culprits.

 

“And did he say he felt anything unusual when he saw it?” I asked. “Other than terror, of course.”

 

Again the elders looked at each other in bewilderment.

 

“Is there another feeling when seeing a demon…?” Haln asked.

 

I put a quick mental checkmark next to ‘probably not overwhelmingly deadly’. Most of the truly dangerous ones had some kind of control or ability to affect the mind, such as ‘lantern’ of the Izavelo or the whispers of the shadow demon in the capital. After the fiasco in Minua, I was pretty sure I could handle pretty much any of the lesser demons if they couldn’t just hijack my mind. And if it was one of the ones I was thinking of, it might even be good practise for Auro.

 

I nodded, satisfied.

 

“Then it’s a deal. I’ll see what I can do to banish it. I’ll head out first thing tomorrow.”

 

Both Haln and Count Ephren blaunched.

 

“What? You?”

 

“Miss Astrian?”

 

“In return.” I said with a smile. “You’ll answer some questions Silst and I have about Ithin Narnil and the supposed Lmenli there.”

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