Chapter 63: Trelia
Givontair:
Instead of being on the path to Khuzd, we end up in Trelia. I guess, we were too lost in the labyrinth, to notice that we were heading West, instead of North-West.
There is a gray flag on top of the gates, instead of the yellow field with three swans, which is the flag of Trelia. I furrow my brows at Sorix, who holds up his hands in a placating manner.
"This is not my fault, I swear. I have never even passed through here," he says. I narrow my eyes at him. "Honestly, Giv. I can do a vow, if you'd like?"
I sigh, and then knock on the side door. The window opens, and I can see that the guard on the other side looks pale. He has a mask over his mouth. He is no elf, but rather a dwarf.
"Hello, good sir. We would like to enter," I say. The dwarf closes the window. I wait for the door to open, but it does not. I knock on the door again.
"Go away," the guard yells, but I don't give up. I keep on knocking. Finally, he opens the window again. "Can't you see the gray flag? There is a plague behind these walls!"
"I am a healer," I say, showing off my badge. The dwarf's eye narrow, when he reads the year on the badge.
"What sort of charlatan made you this fake? It says in here, that it was given 99,000 years ago!" I sigh. Guess our plan for me to play dead won't be something we can uphold.
"I am Givontair the White. I can shift right before you, if you'd like? Or, if I breathe fire, would you believe me then?" I ask the guard. The door opens, and the dwarf comes out. He sizes me up, and then folds his arms over his chest.
"Fire mages can breathe fire, too. You better shift, or I will tell the mayor about you. You won't like to get his attention," I roll my eyes at the threat. Oh, well, guess every town has its boogieman.
I move away from the gates, and shift. I choose to take on my white full-grown form, instead of the gray scales of my drake form. My inner dragon urges me to roar, and fly over the town, so I can set it ablaze. I shake my head, to get the whispers out of it.
"Well, I'll be. You are really the healer dragon," the dwarf says. With my enchanted sight, I can see that he is smiling. "Change back, and I will escort you to the hospital. Our own healers don't seem to know what is happening."
They may not, but I have an idea. Trelia is not so far away from Amestavora. The river around this dwarven settlement must be as contaminated, as the fork that passes through Amestavora.
I switch back, and the screaming demands of my inner dragon end. I enjoy the silence in my head for a while, until I see that the dwarf is waiting impatiently next to the now open gates.
I rub the back of my head, to clear my mind. Trelia is a different beast from Amestavora. Where the elven settlement was one big forest, the dwarven settlement is underground. The land, above the town, is used for farming. We follow the dwarven guard down a tunnel.
Columns reach out towards the ceiling. The underground is big, and filled with stone carvings. I look at a depiction of a great battle. One against dragons. I recognize my father's black bulk.
"When did that battle happen?" I ask the guard. He turns to look in the direction where I am pointing.
"Ah, the Bold's Humbling," he chuckles at that. "Ajax tried to take of Trelia, but found he is not all that good at digging through stone. Still, hard times did come for us, since the bastard turned our crops to ash."
"So, you were never under Draconian rule?" Erik asks. The dwarf puffs up his chest.
"Dwarves live in here, boy. We don't bend for anyone, much less for an overgrown lizard. No offense, healer," I nod, not really caring how someone refers to my species. It is not like the opinions of dragons is low because we are misunderstood. We brought this on ourselves.
"Those who don't bend, break," Sorix says, with a carefree smile on his face. "I didn't feel any barriers when we walked in. Why is the security of this town so lax?"
"We don't need barriers. The stones protect us," the guard looks annoyed, at being told that his kind will eventually cave to the demands of the outside world. If one goes by the frown, he is giving Sorix, that is.
We keep on walking, further and further down. The stairs are lit by candles. Still, I take Erik's hand in mine, to make sure he doesn't trip, and tumble down the staircase.
We pass by the residential area, and soon, we are before a clinic. I turn to the guard.
"From where do you get your water?" I ask him. It will all go faster, if I get the full story.
"From wells, how else? There is an underground fork of the Caraurogon passing through Trelia," I run a hand over my face. So, the elves are to blame. Yet, I will not say so to the dwarves. The last thing the elves need, is for a war party at their gates.
Still, I have a major problem now. I don't have any more pills, which can help with a kidney infection. I pray silently, to whoever is listening, for the sickness to be of a different sort. Something that can be healed with herbs.
"Since when did people started to get sick?" I ask the guard next.
"Don't know. Ask the head nurse," with that, he turns around, and leaves us. I look at Erik.
"Ok, this is not something I want you to be present for. All of you, go and find an inn. If there are sick people in it, tell them to come to the hospital," Erik nods, and let's go of my hand, to go and take Nate's.
The boy looks at Sorix for a while, and then reaches out with his free hand towards him. Sorix's face is a picture of slight amusement, and a tenderness that a Dread Lord shouldn't possess. He takes Erik's hand, and the group leaves in search for the inn.
