Mithril Oath

Mithril Oath

By Michael Jessen




"The Oracle of Galinne!!" Okrain Malo’s usually reserved voice exclaimed suddenly. Issuing a startled gasp the tall, stalwart golden elf cleric back-stepped.

"Hey, watch where yer goin’ ya overgrown elf!!" a deep voice reverberated below. Soon after a challenging growl echoed throughout for all to hear. Smacking the head of his mighty mithril, double-headed war axe against the slender legs surrounding the renowned dwarf, Fangoose Duik, charged headlong into an unsuspecting doom.

"Steady, friend," Danairra Soith warned as her magically-enhanced, sure fingers restrained the broad-shouldered, muscular dwarf. Knowing immediately the dangers intrinsic in caging Fangoose she continued, "Heed wise Okrain’s words, Fangoose, for in this place... A place of forgotten malevolence beyond ordinary experiences within consequential realms... exists a dark, demonic magic... Magic that will, no matter your strength and undying persistence, consume you with all emotionless regard. No, friend. Look, feel, and know well that this marked destination, and its significant prize within, is cursed."

"Cursed with countless, scattered bones of foreign, powerful beasts," Choria Paisson added accurately as all peered deeply within the silent, mysterious interior. As jagged edged, sandstone stalactites and stalagmites produced a multitude of bleak, blackened shadows, there was simply no such offering of hope. For upon and around, contained within a disheartening circumstance, untold scenes of inhuman and human greed revealed a most horrid fate. One that Danairra Soith recognized for its problematic worth. Hearing distinctly a sharp hiss sound from the usually amicable, valorous, wood elf ranger, Choria, she peered upon her sole, female ally. "What actual worth is this?!! To not only fulfill a meager and absurd dynasty, but to also restore order to the boastful clutches of the absolute insane!! A fool’s gold for an ounce of preventive cure!! So speak it, damn, godforsaken, loathsome demons!! Speak it!!" she finished hotly. Clenching a sinewy fist near the glimmering hilt of her dirk, she hissed again and stalked away. "Humble proceedings of gentle, unbiased forest folk," she murmured distantly, as if trying to reassure herself of better tidings hundreds of feet overhead. Sighing longly, Danairra swallowed. Such monumental, troubling truth in her dear, passionate friend’s words. Not only for their surroundings, she knew, but also for the price of their supposed claim. Even as a kindling flutter twiddled upon her silky-smooth, dexterous fingertips, Danairra could not suppress the doubt. The Oracle of Galinne, Was it really worth it? Destined to prevent unprecedented wars, countless, destructive conflicts, and a whole army of unimaginable fiends, the Oracle truly remained a suspicious artifact. Good or evil? Supposedly good, but at what cost? Already, the endless foils of weak-minded, wayward-oriented beasts lay scattered, for time’s remittance, upon an hard, ungrateful floor. Not a sign of life. Not a sign of promise.

"Bah, friend’s tall and boisterously presumptuous! Do not dwell within mischievous devices, for upon this special occasion, a thief’s pledge is a thief’s almighty significant pledge, and let the guild judge -" the short, plump, smiling form of Narkel Hibbs pronounced before being interrupted by a growl.

"Stick to yer gut, fiddlefingers, and not a pickin’ more!" Fangoose Duik roared, and within one seemingly giant stride he stomped toward the bare-footed, curly headed halfling. Huffing mightily, his sparkling, blonde beard swelling with what a appeared to be a fierce inner life, he near spat at the still grinning Narkel. "Riddle-filled jests never been good for more than twisting the truth! Enough with ye!! Never once have you shown a great regard for pouncing necessary monsters!! Always one for the treasure! Always one to sneak a pocket of gold with no charity... Ah, to hell with ya!" he concluded with a backward wave of his hand and grumbled deeply. Soon a muttering Fangoose Duik joined a quietly contemplative Choria.

"Charity, friend Fangoose?! Charity? Well, I’ll have you know-"

"That there are necessary limits to both sides of selfless and so-called selfish sacrifices, Narkel," Danairra interceded and offered a brilliant, undaunted smile upon the oftentimes bashful, if not confused, Narkel. In immediate response the rosy-cheek, pointed-ear twiddling halfling beamed back. Slowly a deep red crept up his thick, wriggly neck. Smiling broadly, however briefly, Danairra couldn’t dare hide her affection for her lovingly cherished, if not infatuated, comrade. "Although misleading pretense aside, Narkel, we are all well aware of your courage, and most especially, your fantastic prowess," she affirmed and was glad when he puffed his diminutive, hairy chest out. "But, I’m afraid, even here, there exists magic at this entrance, and past, the will deliver a most unfair, prejudicial judgement upon those who do not pass the criteria... A significantly intrusive criteria that has befallen many a brave, but unfortunately misdirected creature beforehand."

"The Veneration Criteria, or so it is told throughout appropriated legend," Okrain Malo interceded effectively. Stepping forth, the unbelievably delicate-looking, handsome elf revealed no such previous awe. No, instead, a reflective insight glimmered brightly within his brilliantly speckled, golden orbs. "One, and only one, possessive of a keenly aware, sacrilegious upbringing, who through monumental efforts can abide and transgress restrictive boundaries and vengeful emotions... One, who must, above all extreme costs, depart from soulful redemption, however briefly, but essentially pertinent," the intellectually wise cleric stated clearly, seemingly magically, with no hint of absurd cynics effecting his usually discriminatory expression. Still, his lingering, sparkling gaze travelled far, and stopped upon the usual person who received the cruel brunt of his supposed superior taunts and teases. Danairra frowned. She remained quiet. As Choria Paisson met Okrain’s methodically bias gaze she offered a bitter-sweet smile and strode back to the group. Danairra couldn’t help but giggle lightly. For all their experiences, for their phenomenal companionship in ugly battles, there was just no denying Choria’s wondrous resolution, and humanistic innocence. No, here or anywhere, Okrain’s games would not deter her progress. Although barely thirty-years old, compared to the golden elf’s two-hundred-and-twenty, Choria’s maturation revealed a woman well into respected virtue. She would serve her lost people well. Of that Danairra was most certain.

A sensation, not externally, but deeply-embedded, tingled throughout. Danairra gasped as her digressive thoughts drifted free. A shout, no a vibrant, pain-ridden curse soon transformed into a blustery howl. A familiar, terrifying howl. No sooner had her confidence diminished than her sharp, jade-green eyes locked fiercely upon a wriggling, white-faced halfling.

A suffocating, but relieving blur, shattered tumultuous boundaries. In a blinding rush the stalwartly beauteous woman that so captured Danairra’s impressionable femininity caught Narkel Hibbs tightly. Groaning, straining, auburn tendrils flying free, the ferociously resilient Choria Paisson growled like a feral, great cat and heaved. With a resounding plop, an explosion of spent breath, and of exhausted spirit, the small, diminutive halfling tumbled free. Soon, coughing outrageously, as it trying to rid himself of an impossible, infectious demon, he cackled a faltering appreciation. As Okrain Malo merely sighed, Danairra smiled inwardly. Yet another test of Choria’s passion and undying friendship; at a humiliated, ravaged Narkel’s expense. Still, academically enlightened Okrain had much to learn about appropriate tolerance.

"Damn fool, brain-larden, goodless, fiddlefingers!!" Fangoose Duik hollered suddenly, and charged headlong into the constrictive throng. Danairra stayed a warning hand. "Too involved in yer congested riches to herald a glory’s reprieve, damn halfling!! Could have damn near got yer’self killed!! Following a damn, greedy passage to unremarkable deception!! Damn fool, ignoramus, fiddlehead!! Not one fer thinkin’ before actin’!" he complained loudly, his warrior-intensified pupils dilating and showing a semi-warm, compassionate, even affectionate, light. But all quickly diminished under his temporary, false facade. With an embattled huff, he near jabbed his long, reddened nose in Narkel’s face and spat, "Keenly aware... sacrilegious upbringin’... Never did know yer kind for portraying such a ridiculous bunch of serious-minded culprits, let alone a chivalrous, bloodlined dog of a sort-"

"A-And... A-And never was your.... y-your dwarven kind renowned for a lighthearted, spirited good time away from the... t-the steady, accumulative flow of... o-of mead!" Narkel rebuffed, sputtered a few times and then gasped wholly. With Choria’s and Danairra’s motherly aid, the hairy-footed, curly-haired halfling offered a chiding, if not threatening, glare on Fangoose. "All your whining, complaining, hungering for a vengefully afflictive battle worthy of a gallant warrior’s dying creed! Never once have you and your kind offered a change of welcome pace! Never, I dare... I-I dare protest!!" he managed through blustery gasps and a deeply red, wriggling face. "Fare well, Fangoose, for often might of seen a faint portrayal of ungainly processions... Might such of that of a blonde-bearded, single-minded dwarf!! No, kind of yours is surely suited for despicable toils within foolhardy, dishonored realms!! To the riches and back, for not a single, solitary gold piece, let alone a dragon’s hoard, shall fall onto such a wayward, falsely-led -"

"The Oracle of Galinne?!" Danairra interrupted suddenly, immediately noticing a dangerous turn in the twosome’s usually good-natured jesting. Stepping between the two, glancing toward the mountainous heap of deathly remains near the priceless, magical artifact, she asked, "What occurred, Narkel? What caused your temporary paralysis?.. Your near-death experience? What did you feel." All questions flowed freely, seemingly pathetically. Deep within Danairra still wanted to pummel the endeared, riddle-filled halfling for his meager attempt. Yes, she had to agree with Fangoose’s perceptions to a point. But then Narkel always had his own opinion.

"Okrain’s pretentious wisdom speaks often profoundly, but here, rightly so, I’m afraid, Danairra," Narkel stated solemnly as a sympathetic shudder seemed to course throughout his short, deceptive form. "Even possessed with preciously delicate fingertips such as I, the curse remains to forbid passage for those so unaware... those seeming to be so driven by futile, selfish greed and atrocious beliefs of outstanding good-fortune... Unfortunately, this time, my indentured, often disrespected skills can be of no avail, at least not from this damnable entrance," he concluded gravely. Eyes downcast he sighed and kicked at the dust-ridden, cavernous ground.

Somewhere near a scurrying erupted. None paid attention, most particularly a suddenly energized, boisterously irritating Fangoose.

"Hah!!" he announced and jabbed a callused, thick finger at the stunned, speechless halfling. "Finally, no truer a test of our joyously rotund, fiddly fingering friend!! About time too!! Hoh!!" he laughed wholeheartedly and slapped a quiet Narkel on the back. "‘Bout time yer twiddling tongue spoke a few lessons of virtue, halfling!! ‘Bout time indeed. The likes of which this Oracle-thing finally revealed to the likes of you," and he winked and laughed some more. He slapped a grumbling, quivering Narkel on the back again. "You may be a sniveling thieving dog, fiddlefingers, in the best of times, but now you’ll finally see -

"Enough!!" Choria Paisson interjected and stepped toward the four-foot, two-hundred pound, broad-shouldered dwarf. Staring distantly off from their unpleasant, tense predicament she said, "Better off under the stars, within lush, vegetative forests, then trapped, bound, and gagging from unrestrained, unfocussed emotions!.. To the hell with this precious Oracle of Galinne!!" Without another word the tall, slender wood elf silently stalked off. As congestive shrouds of accumulative black laced around her disappearing, athletically-endowed frame Narkel Hibbs soon bounced behind with a sudden splurge of unanticipated energy.

"Past troubles and monumental experiences within troublesome times indicate a multitude of pleasant and unpleasant possibilities, most particularly another, lesser extreme," he joked with a strange twinkle in his hazel eyes as he loped gracefully away. Twenty strides ahead of a silently wide-eyed and gaping Fangoose, Narkel turned and shouted, "Lessons of lore, Fangoose!! Never capable of equal stealth or courteous partisanship, you would do yer people well to adjust appropriately... Yer veins of mithril need a tint of gold, of that I am sure, friend... Of that I am sure." Bewildered herself, Danairra trailed a hesitant gaze on a plainly dumbfounded, mumbling, unmoving Fangoose. Fearing not for the dwarf’s help, but for Narkel, once Fangoose let loose his renowned anger, she followed Okrain swiftly. Soon, devouring, blackened shadows obscured the stout, loyal dwarf.

Past naturally sculpted rounds of sandstone, granite, and residual specks of coal the four travelled. Between indistinguishable cracks and crevices numerous unintelligible and intellectual sounds echoed. Still they did not slow. If only for the wondrous consequence of the Oracle did they continue. Not for Choria though, Danairra knew. Not even for Narkel’s necessary confidence. No, their destined pursuit had transformed into a perplexing necessity. Never before had she witnessed such an absurd, even frightening, spectacle between the two usually docile, and oddly humorous comrades. No, something here, deep within the subterranean caverns, where unknown magical inducements and lethal underdark creatures dwelled, had changed the two. The possibility left Danairra with only one needful question: Would any lessons be learned here? The recent, intrusive memory of deathly disasters far behind, indicated otherwise.

"A light!!" Narkel hollered terribly loud, much to a disgruntled, hissing Choria’s displeasure. "Truly glorified, merciful gods and deities have looked upon our strangled way with -"

"The Oracle of Galinne is chancing a change, as prescribed in historical scrolls, or so be it known, for surely a change has occurred," a wide-eyed, obviously disbelieving Okrain Malo pronounced.

"Darkened demises permeate," Choria instructed, cursing all the while.

Where was Fangoose? Danairra wondered. Looking back over her shoulder she heard no clear sign of the usually loud, armoured dwarf. Chancing a change?

"Fear not, dedicated friends, for the time is ripe for delicious pickings, for only one blessed with numerical skills and heightened appreciation for beautiful, exotic riches can outdo that which remains playfully coy," a snickering Narkel stated and smiled broadly. Stepping forward, hands wide, he said, "Extreme rivers of mithril will never fill a warrior’s veins with -"

"A lame, silly halfling’s misunderstood greed," a familiar, deep voice reverberated to a stifled, peeping Narkel. As if possessed by a dire, glittery apparition, the stout, muscular frame of Fangoose Duik exited from the lit chamber with the brilliant, ancient artifact in his sure hands. Handing the Oracle of Galinne to Okrain, he howled loudly and clapped a silent Narkel hard on the back. "Damn presumptuous gold elf was talking of me kind!! Sacrilegious upbringing... Resilient... Never seen treasure a way to glorified good or prudent causes... Not compared to a clean, vengeful swipe of this here axe," he stated, patting the many notches on his double-headed war axe. Patting Narkel’s slumped shoulders he sighed. "No, Narkel, ‘fraid this type of work is yours and yours alone."

"H-H-How? W-" a plainly abashed, blanched Narkel attempted to ask.

"Gold hints, and luxurious treasures never abided by the code of mithril," Fangoose offered cryptically and winked. Danairra smiled brilliantly and felt like kissing the ridiculous twosome. Still nothing, absolutely nothing would lessen a wisely mature, if not wholly outrageous, Fangoose’s lesson. "Mithril don’t mix, fiddlefingers. Never has and never will! Maybe its ‘bout time you traded your jewels, coins, and that silly steel dagger for some true metal... Maybe it’s ‘bout time you filled yer head with the lesson of mithril... Surely the glorified gods will look upon yer sacrilegious choice as a necessary step to a gentleman’s esteemed goodness... Yer needin’ a whole lot anyway."

THE END


Copyright 1998 by Michael Jessen

Bio:

I am a 28-year-old freelance illustrator who not only enjoys the many simple things of life but also the chance to challenge one's conscience with hints of fantastic situations, and by including curious characters within magical times. Well, maybe a little more often than I'd like to admit.

Presently, postings of my manuscripts appear in The Inditer, The Outpost, Aphelion, A Writer's Choice Literary Journal., and Little Read Writer's Hood.

E-mail: bjessen@total.net


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