R. Salvatore - Bastion of Darkness

“I’m already dead,” Del remarked, and that brought a unified “Ooo” from the throng, and indeed it now was a throng, more than sixty strong, all short and woolly haired, with dark skin, dark brown mostly, but some who seemed perfectly black in color.

“Well, the dragon’s gone back to its hole, if that is of any comfort,” Ardaz said, but again he ended with an “Ow!” as another stabbing pain got him in the rump.

“Oh, yeah. Mamagoo, she like that one,” one of the tribesmen laughed.

“She’ll be playing wit dat one before she kills him,” another said.

“Maybe bring him back in zombie to play some more, eh?” yet another laughed, and all joined in.

“Who are you?” Ardaz demanded, and he hopped and turned, looking suspiciously for anyone who might be trying to stick him with something small and painfully sharp.

“We be de Architect Tribe, boss,” the first man said. “Don’t you hear so good?”

“Your name, good sir,” the wizard insisted.

“Okin Balokey,” the man said.

“Unbelievable,” Del whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. “Do you realize what this means?” he asked the wizard. “The ancestors of these people must have come to Ynis Aielle right after the holocaust, and they have evolved a bastardized culture…”

“Hey, boss!” several yelled at once.

“Don’t you be calling names,” Okin Balokey said. “And I don’t care that you be dead!”

“No names,” Del said apologetically. “All I meant is that the culture you have evolved is so intriguing.” He looked to Ardaz, who was growing truly agitated, truly excited. The wizard had spent many years trying to prove that others had come to Ynis Aielle, that there had been-perhaps still were-other cultures and other races in the wide world. And now his proof had walked right up to him-and had apparently stuck him in the butt… repeatedly!

“They speak with Caribbean dialect,” Del went on, “and have the dark skin, of course…”

“There he goes again,” one remarked.

“He cares too much about de skin,” another said.

“And yet, look at them!” Del cried. “They cannot average much over five feet.”

“Now he sayin’ we too short!” one exasperated tribesman cried.

Okin Balokey put a disgusted gaze over Del, hands on hips and shaking his head slowly.

“Not too short!” the ghost protested. “But you are, and you must admit, shorter than average.”

“We below average,” one man said with mock sadness.

“No!” Del said. “But I suspect that your ancestors were far taller, probably averaging close to six feet.”

“You tink we like bumping our heads on de ceilings of our tunnels, boss?” Okin Balokey asked.

“Exactly my point!” the ghost cried.

“Oh, simply marvelous!” Ardaz yelled, catching on and seeing the beauty of it all. “This is too precious, too grand!”

“Who be dat one?” The unfamiliar voice, a woman’s voice, came from behind the gathering. All eyes turned to see a large, older woman dressed in bright colors ambling about the stone, a pair of small dolls in hand, one of which looked remarkably like Ardaz, complete with white hair and blue robes, the other bearing some resemblance to Del, at least in the fact that it was dressed in white. In her other arm, to Ardaz’ complete relief, she held a familiar black cat, curled comfortably in the crook of her elbow as if nothing in all the world could possibly be wrong.

“Oh, Des!” the happy wizard cried, rushing forward. The cat merely yawned and buried her face within her paws.

“Mamagoo?” Belexus asked Okin Balokey, who nodded.

“I be stickin’ dat one fordy-tree time,” Mamagoo complained in her accent, by far the thickest so far, and waving her doll-holding hand Del’s way. “And he not be even jumpin’! And my new kitty friend, she be adding a stick or two.”

“To both?” Ardaz, taking Des from the woman, asked.

“To yours, mostly,” Mamagoo explained. “Beastly loyal.”

“He be a ghost, Mamagoo,” Okin Balokey explained, indicating Del.

“Aah!” the large woman sighed in relief. “Priddy ghost he be, too. So very priddy.” She replaced the doll in a deep pocket and produced some herbs instead, and began waving them about in the air and singing softly.

Almost immediately Del felt a tug in his thoughts, a mental prodding that it took some effort for him to resist.

“Ardaz,” he warned as the wizard came back over to stand beside him.

“Weaving magic,” Ardaz reasoned with great surprise. “I do daresay.”

Belexus tossed aside the man he was holding and advanced a step toward Mamagoo, and when a host of men jumped in front of him, the determined and deadly ranger drew out his new, brilliant sword.

That set the gathering back on its heels, brought a tumult of gasps, and exclamations of “aah.”

“Where you be gettin’ dat?” a suddenly very agitated Mamagoo demanded.

The ranger looked to his friends, then all three turned and eyed the dragon’s mountain. “It is what we came for,” Belexus explained. “All that we came for. We’re wanting no trouble from yerselves, but know that we’ll not be slowed.”

“He talk funny,” one of the tribesmen remarked.

“Trouble, boss?” Okin Balokey said incredulously, waving for his companions, who were all tittering about Belexus’ strange accent, to be quiet. “You got de sword. De sword!”

“You know it?” Ardaz asked.

“We made it,” Okin Balokey replied.

“Ye canno’ have it back,” Belexus said at once, surprising his friends with his impatience and lack of tact.

“Oh, we don’t be wantin’ it back,” Okin Balokey replied happily, apparently taking no offense. “We just be glad that de worm got it no more!”

Rousing cheers went up all about the companions, then, and the three exchanged confused, relieved glances. Ardaz and Del let their gazes linger together, the pair sharing thoughts of how very strange this group truly was, and both wanting to spend more than a little time with Okin Balokey and Mamagoo.

“I knew it! I knew it!” Ardaz cried repeatedly, pacing across the little warm and comfortable chamber the Architects had prepared for them, far underground-though all three suspected that they had only brushed the highest level of a huge tunnel system. “We could not have been alone, no, no. Makes no sense, after all! The world was a bigger place before e-Belvin Fehte, yes, much bigger, with millions of people.”

“Billions,” Del corrected, and he gave a curious look after he made the remark, for it, like so many, had come to him from far, far away, from a place he didn’t consciously access.

“I knew there were others,” Ardaz rambled on. “But I was looking for them in the wrong places-in the east, where the land is more hospitable. And here they were all the time, not so far away at all! I knew other boats made the shores of Ynis Aielle when the new world was young, and oh, the people survived.”

“Without the help of the Colonnae,” Del remarked.

Ardaz wagged his head, but in truth, he wasn’t so certain of that. “They have magic,” he reasoned, rubbing his still-sore rump. “Thus the Colonnae must have visited them, or at least have visited Mamagoo or her predecessors. But still, to have survived in the great Crystals! So close to us, and yet, unknown to us!”

“But you not be unknown to us, man,” Mamagoo’s voice came as she walked into the chamber. “We been watchin’ you dese years. You and dem skinny folk with dem pointy ears.”

“Then why not come and speak with us?” the wizard asked.

“We tried dat once,” Mamagoo said with a visible shudder. “When dem gargoyles come to de mountains. Ooh, but dey whack at us, I tell you boss!”