Of Blood And Fire by Ryan Cahill (best classic books of all time .txt) 📕

him, and they seemed to enjoy making him jump through hoops, which wasn’t altogether unenjoyable for Calen.

Vaeril and the other elves were a different story altogether.

“We made an oath, Draleid, to go with you wherever you may lead, to the void or beyond. You cannot ask us to disobey that oath.” Vaeril was usually a placid person. He and Calen had started to grow close, but Calen saw a touch of anger in his eyes. He knew by the tone in the elf’s voice that he would have to be careful with his words.

“Vaeril, I am not asking you to disobey your oath. You left your home and have followed me all the way to Belduar. You saved my life even before that. I am asking you to trust me.”

“Trust is earned, Draleid.” Ellisar was the one elf that Calen had spent little time around since they had arrived in Belduar. He spent a lot of time with Dahlen, practicing in the yard. That put an unconscious bad taste in Calen’s mouth, but what the elf said was not unfair.

“See that Aeson continues to spar with you while I am not there,” Gaeleron said. It was not a question.

“Draleid, you do understand that if harm were to come to you while you are with the dwarves, and we were not there to prevent it, that dishonour would follow us.” Alea was usually bright-eyed, with a bubbly personality to match her quirky smile. But in this, she was as stony-faced as Aeson.

Calen had made the mistake of thinking that they were worried about him, but it turned out all they were worried about was harming their honour. It stung. “Look, I am going. The dwarves have not invited you, and from what I have learned in Therin’s teachings –” Therin’s name drew a twist of contempt from more than one face, but none of them spoke, “– the dwarves are extremely selective about who they allow into their lands. You cannot come. I will make sure not to die so that your honour remains intact.”

Calen saw a touch of hurt on some of their faces as he stormed from the room. But he knew they were only hurt because they knew he had figured them out.

Therin had tried to explain the Wind Tunnels to Calen – unsuccessfully. All he remembered was that the dwarves built them a long time ago, and they allowed fast travel between the kingdoms of the Dwarven Freehold and Belduar. “Conal, have you used the Wind Tunnels before?”

The look of confusion on the boy’s face told Calen that he should already know the answer, but Conal was quite polite. “No, m’lord. I’ve seen ‘em lots, but I’ve never used ‘em before. Not a lot o’ people travel to the dwarven kingdoms, m’lord, and the dwarves never come up ‘ere. They say that they helped our ancestors build this place, but I ain’t never seen ‘em.”

Calen still hadn’t gotten the boy to stop calling him a lord. He had tried, but Conal was insistent. Calen found it uncomfortable. Most people didn’t notice. Dann usually just laughed. “Ooh, m’lord! Can I fetch you some tea, m’lord?”

“’Ere we are, m’lord. The Wind Tunnels.”

“Thank you, Conal…” Calen’s voice trailed off. In front of him was a massive courtyard, which seemed as though it had been hollowed out of the mountain. The ceiling was part of the mountain itself and stood about two hundred feet above the smooth flagstone floor. Six passageways, framed by buildings on either side, cut through the main city of Belduar, acting as entrances to the Wind Tunnels. It was through one of these passageways that Calen had emerged into the courtyard.

At the opposite side of the courtyard, there were five enormous perfect circles cut into the side of the rock face. Each was easily forty feet across, fronted by a stone landing with a set of stairs at the side. Even from where he stood, Calen could tell that each circular entrance was connected to tunnels that dove into the depths of the mountain.

The others were already waiting for him on the landing that fronted the first tunnel. Therin and Ihvon were there as well, along with a handful of the Kingsguard, in their burnished armour and heavy purple cloaks.

“Come on, Valerys. They’re waiting,” Calen said as he made his way over to the landing.

Valerys ambled along beside him. The dragon’s head pricked up in the air, tilted a little sideways. It was as if he were pressing his ear to the wind, like he heard something that Calen couldn’t. When Calen listened, he heard a low whistling sound, like when he held the seashells he found on the coast at Milltown to his ear. It was soothing. In a way, it felt like home.

Calen reached the top of the stairs and stepped out onto the landing. Nestled inside the entrance of the tunnel was some kind of machine with three massive golden rings tucked inside each other. The outermost ring was pressed up against the wall of the tunnel, with a series of enormous ball bearings embedded along its outer rim. In the very centre of the concentric rings was a circular platform made of the same golden metal, framed with low metal walls. The platform had an open space at the centre, while the outer areas had seats fixed onto its base.

Calen could have spent years gazing at it without ever understanding a single thing about it. He had never seen anything like it in his life.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Arthur seemed to glide across the stone towards Calen, such was the languid confidence with which the man moved. “The dwarves call them Wind Runners. The dwarves are capable of all sorts of mechanical wonders, Calen… but these… there is nothing like these anywhere else in the known world. I’m excited to see how you find the ride.”

An uneasy lump formed in Calen’s stomach. The thought of being inside that thing while it moved