Authors: James Wolf
‘Forgive me, my friend,’ Baek laid a hand on Forgrun’s huge shoulder. ‘I was ignorant when I called stone cold and lifeless. I never even dreamed of such a place as this.’
‘Yhee be humble,’ Forgrun bowed to the Aborle, ‘an’ gracious o’ speech – far more than I. Long may we be friends, Baek o’ Borleon.’
There were numerous single-story houses, made entirely of stone, with flat stone roofs and stout little chimneys. Taem saw how the buildings themselves were all bland and grey, but clan allegiance was often blazoned across them by way of a coloured metal plaque, or sculpture, attached to the house. In some places, houses were built on top of other houses in stacks. Up the sides of the sweeping chamber walls there were also dwellings built into the rock face, joined by stone stairwells, with lamp-lit balconies overlooking the Under City.
Harnan led the Hand of Fire towards the stronghold at the far end of the great chamber, and they passed through different areas of the subterranean city, each denoted by sculptures – crafted metalwork of the symbols of the different Clans.
‘That be Ironstone’s,’ Forgrun pointed out to Taem his clan’s insignia, of a hammer hitting an anvil. ‘An’ that be Arcanlode’s,’ Forgrun gestured to a metal sculpture of a lightning bolt striking fire. ‘Arcanlode be ye smallest clan, an’ ye most secretive. They do tend ter be engineers or met’lurgists. Arcanlode colours be light green an’ deep blue. An’ that be Bronzkiln’s symbol,’ Forgrun pointed to two crossed pick axes.
‘Bronzkiln is one of the smaller clans,’ Hirandar said to Taem and Baek, ‘they take pride in their mining culture. The Bronzkiln colours are bronze and purple.’
‘Although Bronzkilns be mining specialists,’ Forgrun said as they walked, ‘all Rhungars do learn ter mine, because using pick do build up ye strength an’ dexterity needed ter use fightin’ axe.’
Taem was amazed at how noisy, how active and how alive the Under City was. Rhungars shouted to each other with their booming voices, Rhungari children ran and played loud games, and everywhere Taem looked he saw the swirl of the colours of the clans. Even though half the Under City was uninhabited, the streets that were lived in were full to the seams with Rhungar families. Taem found that strange. He would have thought that, given there were so many empty houses in the stone city, the Rhungars would spread out to fill the space. But instead they all preferred to live on top of each other.
Taem could see all the Rhungar-women were prepared for war too. The women all looked stout and tough. They each carried a Rhungari war axe, and had bigger shoulders than any man Taem had ever seen – except for Ragad.
Despite the cold reception from the Rhungar warriors in the ante-chamber, Taem and his friends was greeted warmly by the Rhungars in the Under City. Taem saw the disbelief in Baek’s eyes as he watched the thumping way the Rhungars greeted Forgrun. They smashed each other so hard with their handshake that anyone but a Rhungar or Ragad would have been sent flying.
‘Welcome ter Khan Zhen,’ a grey bearded Rhungar said to Taem, as he extended his hand.
‘Thank you,’ Taem hesitantly held out his arm, and braced for impact.
The Rhungar gently clasped his massive hand on Taem’s forearm, without any thunderous backswing. Taem smiled in relief, and the grey bearded Rhungar winked at him, before he went on to shake arms with Forgrun in the usual crashing Rhungari way.
The Hand of Fire walked on past open squares where placid Dhurran horses were crowded together, penned in with livestock that would have normally been housed outside the citadel on the plateau. The company also passed numerous Rhungari alehouses as they strode down the street to the stronghold. Taem saw that each alehouse was advertised by a sculpture of an ale tankard frothing over with beer. The taverns were all full, and the sound of gruff talking and shouting was thick on the fumy air. Taem even caught snatches of the battle song Forgrun had taught the townspeople of Gulren.
‘As you know from our very own Forgrun,’ Hirandar said to Taem, ‘a Rhungar’s favourite pastime is gossiping in the alehouses, whilst consuming vast quantities of beer.’
‘Aye.’ Forgrun glanced into the alehouses. ‘Other than be drinkin’, an’ when we nay away fightin’ wars with Kruns and Ugurs, we Rhungars do love ter hunt ye dangerous creatures that be livin’ in ye wild mountains – ye evil trolls, Gaurgans an’ cyclops.’
‘It is hard to comprehend all this life goes on under mountain rock,’ Taem said to Forgrun, ‘concealed from the outside world. I gaze over this great Under City and I see courage, life and strength. It is a wonderful place.’
‘Aye, my friend,’ Forgrun patted Taem’s shoulder, with a beaming smile.
‘We will have to stay here,’ Logan said to Hirandar and Harnan, ‘until we have some notion of what the Krun are doing. They flee eastwards along the paths we need to take, and there is no other way around.’
‘Agreed,’ Hirandar nodded, ‘the pass is too narrow to slip through unseen. We’ll have to wait and see what the Kruns do. But they are restless creatures, and won’t stay where they are for long. If they head back south, taking the easier path back to the Lost Realms, the high pass will be open to us.’
‘If the Ugurs return to lay siege,’ Logan murmured, ‘will they not cage us inside the mountain?’
‘If they do,’ Hirandar whispered, ‘I know an old passage, a dark way, all but forgotten. The Krun will not know to look there. It is an exit only, and impossible to find from the outside.’
Heading for the stronghold at the Under City’s far end, the companions passed the hammering chink of metal struck on anvil, and the smouldering fires of the busy weapon forges. Taem knew the night-time was better for forging blades – easier to see when the glowing metal reach the right heat.
‘The weaponsmiths,’ Hirandar gestured to the forges, ‘the most prestigious of the smiths, work up here in the Under City. But in the sub-levels below, there are great forges and furnaces where other smiths create the majority of the metal-craft. These workshop fires warm the Under City via excavated tunnels and vents – it’s all very clever,’ Hirandar grinned. ‘Further beneath the workshop levels, far deep under the ground, there are great mines and grottos where metals, coal and gems are found in abundance. You see, Rhungars have an uncanny knack of discovering rich veins of mineral deposits. More than half of Hathlore’s metal is mined from the handful of remaining Rhungari citadels.’
Taem gaped up at the lord’s stronghold, with its torch-lit towers and battlements cut from the rock. Dauntless, fierce and indomitable, the stronghold loomed over the subterranean city, exuding shelter and protection. If things got to their worst, the Rhungars could fall back to the stronghold and make a last stand. Taem knew that stronghold must extend deep into the rock, and he could only see part of the citadel from the outside – a half ring of battlements, which were so smooth they had the look of being carved from one piece of rock.
‘Yhee will be received by ye Clan Council,’ Harnan said to Hirandar and Logan, as they walked up to the castle gates.
Citadel Guards jumped to attention and saluted Harnan, as the company passed by. These Citadel Guard had hulking plate armour, over a black tunic weaved with gold thread. They bore round shields and domed helms, with the crest of a swooping gold falcon in a silver sky – the insignia of Khan Zhen. Taem saw the respectful gleam in the Rhungari soldiers’ eyes, as they watched Captain Harnan stride past.
Harnan led the companions down a passage with sweeping stone arches overhead, and iron torches set at every pillar. The passage had no furnishing or pictures. Unlike the way Rhungars dressed, their buildings were devoid of any colour. Inside the castle, serving Rhungars rushed past the companions on urgent tasks, wearing brown tabards with armbands displaying their clan colours – always two colours in alternating bands.
‘What are the other clans?’ Taem asked Forgrun as they walked.
‘Strumval’s clan,’ Forgrun said, ‘Galvin Tor, usu’ly be Rhungars known ter like ye outside. They be good hunters an’ trackers, an’ of’en do became Grey Rangers. Ye Galvin Tor colours be sky blue an’ navy blue.’
Tsun Cloud were known as strongly religious Rhungars. They looked to the sky for inspiration, and were likely to become priests or rune lords. The Tsun Cloud colours were orange and silver. Claymore were another clan with a strong warrior ethos. They were the only Rhungars that were certain to be carrying swords. They carried axes as well, but always had a Claymore strapped to their side. The Claymore – from which the clan took its name – was a heavy double-edged long sword of Rhungari design. Claymore colours were red and green.
From Taem’s point of view, the most unusual of the Rhungar clans were the Browen Dal, the gardeners of the Rhungars. The passion of these Rhungars was not in metals or stone, but in living things. The Rhungars of Browen Dal tended the land and cultivated whatever the citadels needed in terms of livestock, vegetables and crops. They also shepherded the herds of mountain bison and flocks of giant flightless birds called gollys. The Browen Dal colours were green and gold.
Harnan – still deep in conversation with Logan – took the Hand of Fire into a large chamber. By the direction they had come, Taem thought they were deep inside the mountain rock. This chamber had a monstrous fireplace, at the far end of the vast hall, which must have had a chimney to the outside. A roaring blaze in that massive hearth would keep the Rhungars warm in their bitterly cold winters. Despite there being no windows the chamber was bright, for there were lights, lanterns and iron braziers afire everywhere. The grey stone walls were plain, and the room was full of seated Rhungars. The tables were made of beaten sheets of curved metal, with a dark red sheen. Taem counted seven parallel tables, one for each of the clans, and all the Rhungars sitting at these tables wore their clan colours in different styles of baggy tunics and billowing trousers.
There were twenty Rhungars at each table, and the eclectic group of the Hand of Fire drew some surprised stares and murmurs. Especially, it seemed, the Aborle who was one of them. Taem noticed, of all the Rhungars he had seen, Forgrun was the biggest around – matched only by Harnan.
Taem had heard food and drink – and mealtimes in general – were important to the Rhungars, and this great room served not only as a room to receive guests and discuss policies, but as a grand dining hall. The chamber had an eighth table on a raised platform, running perpendicular to the heads of the seven clan tables. Each of the Clan Lords sat at this high table, looking down their own clan tables. Seven Clan Lords in total, sitting either side of the Citadel Lord. Also on the high table, sat a venerable Rune Lord and a High Priest of Odrin. These important Rhungars sat with their backs to the wall, gazing out over the dining hall and the Rhungars of their Clans.
The company came to a halt in front of the high table, with the clan tables at their backs, presenting themselves to the Citadel Lord.
Drogal, the Citadel Lord, rose and said formally, ‘Be welcome friends, old an’ new. Receive ye thanks o’ ev’ry Rhungar here an’ in me city. Be seated at me table.’
Drogal of Bronzkiln, the Citadel Lord of Khan Zhen, was one of the few Rhungars at the tables not wearing clan colours. The Citadel Lord was supposed to favour no clan above any other, but often looked preferably on his own – known unofficially as the “ruling clan”.
Taem saw that Drogal had a long wolf-grey beard, and wise brown eyes. Even for a Rhungar, Drogal’s nose was big and his cheekbones protrusive. He was elderly, but not frail. Taem could see that, despite his age, Drogal’s body was filled with the vigour of Rhungari fortitude. On his finger was a ring of pure zildar. That metal drew Taem’s eyes. He noted how there were no guards in this great hall. There was no need. Every Rhungar was a warrior.
Serving Rhungars came forward, carrying metal chairs for the companions, and Harnan went and sat on the other side of the table, on Drogal’s right hand side. Hirandar and Logan sat opposite Drogal and Harnan, whilst the other companions spread out down the table.
‘Yhee be few in number,’ Drogal announced for everyone to hear, ‘but thy might drove ye Kruns away. Yhee are fore’er welcome ter citadel Khan Zhen. Let ye feast begin!’ The Citadel Lord bellowed, and all the Rhungars in the room began talking amongst themselves.
Serving Rhungars began running plates, stacked with meat, and huge tankards full of ale, starting at the high table then moving down to the clan tables. The Rhungars ravenously attacked the meat and beer, like nothing Taem had seen before. They ate with their hands, slopped food and drink down their fronts, and talked with their mouths full. Still, Taem knew it was just their way, but goodness knows what Baek thought of it all, with his reserved Aborle sensibilities. Taem realised Forgrun had done them a great politeness in the past, eating in a way that would not offend his non-Rhungar friends. But now Forgrun was back at a Rhungari table, he was worse than any other that sat there.
‘Great One,’ Drogal said reverently, touching his forehead in the strange way Rhungars always did to show their respect for a Wizard. ‘Ye Firefist be most welcome in ye halls o’ Rhungars, especially in these dark times.’
‘It is good to see your mountain halls again, Drogal,’ Hirandar dipped her head, ‘Lord of Khan Zhen. But alas, we cannot stay long. Our path heads eastward through the high mountains to the City of Night.’
‘Yhee mean ter take ye Blizzen Passes?’ Drogal asked.
‘Ye danger o’ that road be great,’ Harnan said.