Chapter 7. The Hammer of Varlag

"Not many people know this legend, and you probably haven't even heard it," Groff began, clearing his throat. "We used to share our land in two halves: the one on this side of the mountains, and the other on the other side of the mountains, located beyond Dridvinn.

Richard nodded. Everyone in Meriel knows that. The Dridvinn Mountain range stretched from Nud to Zun. Beyond it, here were the uninhabited lands that are called Emtyss.

People have always been afraid of these mountains, afraid of the unknown and the crazy freedom of the wildlands. They have never ventured far into the forests that cover the slopes of Dridvinn, and they have nothing to do beyond the mountains.

And the few who went looking for the pass were never seen again. They disappeared among the forest thickets and rocks. They might have managed to find themselves on the other side, but what was waiting for them there?

Everyone counted—there is a curse hanging over the inaccessible peaks that punishes anyone who dares to challenge them. Dridvinn can be called the barrier that protected Meriel from Emptyss and those monsters with wild beasts, which they must have lived there. Or maybe it's the other way around?

"Only it wasn't always like that. Just an era ago, the Dridvinn Mountains did not exist at all!" Groff's voice rose slightly. There were shadows in the wrinkles on his face that made the old man's face look mysterious and unfamiliar.

"You mean these mountains are the result of magic?" Richard asked in a low voice, thinking again that Dridvinn was a barrier.

"Magic?" Groff seemed to taste the word, and then, frowning at the fact that he didn't like it, added: "Yes, you can say that. Mountains take many thousands of years to grow, but these are a very different story." Groff steepled his fingers in his lap. "A long time ago... That's how all stories start. In general, elves and humans then lived side by side. Even in the land where our Bertleben is now. And there are no mountains between Meriel and Emptyss."

Groff glanced at the young man, who was gasping for breath, or maybe he was trying to hold back a bunch of questions that were on the tip of his tongue. But he didn't ask anything, Then the old man slowly continued his story:

"And all would be fine. So we would have lived peacefully until now, but elves and humans were hostile, and then wars with other races began. We have conquered elvin's lands and banished all other races to the fringes of the edge, making Meriel an exclusively human world.

Something was clear to Richard now. That girl might have come from over the mountains. If there was one place where elves could hide, it would be beyond Dridvinn, where no human would ever find them. But what was it for when she showed up in the land of the invaders? Richard tried hard not to think about the fact that they were enemies. She's alone. Maybe more elves are wandering around looking for her now. And also to those who attacked and wounded her.

"What about the mountains? It was elves who created them to stop..." 'Us'—It couldn't come out of Richard's mouth. "To stop humans?"

"To stop a single person," Groff said grimly.

"Was he that strong?" the young man was horrified.

"He was unbelievably strong. His name was Ownerking Varlag. And we owe it to him for the prosperity of our lands, although the cost of this well-being, if you can call it that, has proven to be monstrous.

"Can you tell me about him?" Richard fidgeted impatiently; he had never heard this name before, and although he felt a little creepy, he wanted to know more about this Ownerking. "I'm sorry to pry, but I promise, or rather, I'll try not to interrupt you again!" he added, looking at the old man, who was twisting his mustache around his finger.

Groff talked about the power of Varlag, which was increasing every day. Very quickly, he strengthened his country and proclaimed himself the ruler of the entire continent.

But to be the ruler of all the regions, you need to subdue other races. Or destroy them. And Varlag hated elves most of all.

Gathering an unthinkable army, the ownerking set out toward the elven kingdoms that had fallen to his onslaught. Nothing seemed to stop this killer.

The wisest of nations, opposing parties, decided to protect the western lands at any cost, calling for force.

"Well, well, or magic," the old man interjected when he saw Richard wanted to ask about the nature of this force. "And they did it."

The ground beneath Varlag's troops shuddered. A huge crack split the world in two. Blocks of stone rose to the sky, cutting off the path to the West. Fire and water erupted from the groaning earth. A hot rain was falling from the sky...

Varlag was on the force, but his battle with the elements couldn't last long. He died trying to destroy the mountains that stood in his way, trying to absorb all that power, which collapsed on him.

Thousands of elves have also died, giving their lives to make the rock formation move. They made a huge sacrifice to save the world. So they successfully stopped Varlag.

Elves were almost gone, and many of them had been slaughtered by humans before the battle, and those who had survived it had left their lands and never returned.

"Until now..." Richard thought as the image of the girl he and Ilda had been hiding appeared in front of him.

"And then the force disappeared..."

It's difficult to imagine how someone could have created mountains at all... No wonder, all the energy in the world went into it. But there is also a possibility... Someone believes that it's not the mountains that matter, but Varlag did it. He was the one who absorbed all the force from our world.

"Can it come back? The force..."

It was all very exciting. Just think! There was magic in Meriel that could make mountains grow! These are not quack amulets for good luck in card games in the form of a rabbit's paw, clover, or horseshoe.

"I don't know. But I hope that doesn't happen," Groff replied dryly. "So... Centuries have passed, the wounds of the earth have healed, Varlag and his legacy are almost forgotten, elves, nudars, jarhis, and redrins have disappeared with him, and the mountains of Dridvinn still hold the memory of those distant days... That's how the tyrant's hammer split the world apart..."

The young man looked at Groff as if fascinated, he had never heard anything like it. The story wasn't like all the fairy tales he was used to. Yes, they brought to life the villainous jarhis, who devoured babies, the treacherous beastmen who attacked herds, elves, who bewitched all around them, and the nudars, who turned people into ice statues. But this story gave rise to some other feelings. Not fear, but incredible interest. And with the echo of this madness now hidden in a forest hut, their curiosity, and thirst for this knowledge have spiked to the very peaks of the unimaginably colossal Dridvinn ridges.

Of course, something in this legend could be a complete fabrication. But Groff's story gave Richard a different view of the world and recent events. Even if Dridvinn hadn't been created by magic, elves did exist, and that wasn't fiction; he'd witnessed it himself. And they had a good reason not to show themselves to humans.

Even so, the young man felt how some unknown forces were awakened in him as he searched to see if those distant events had touched him. Or maybe it's because of a lot of knowledge? And it's not about the legends.

"I think that's enough stories for today, and I've shared everything I can remember with you. Did it help you?"

Richard still couldn't get over it. "But how do you know all this? Such knowledge is not available to everyone, perhaps only priests or knights... Who are you, Groff?"

"If you live a long time like me, you'll know even more," the old man said deftly.

"But I still..."

"Wait, I'll give you something. There are answers to your endless questions," Groff barked a little irritably, getting up from his chair. He went to the shelves, where he spent a few minutes looking for something, and then returned to the guy, holding out a battered black leather-bound book.

Richard ran his fingers over it carefully. The gilt was almost falling off, but he could read the title. The book was called 'The Hammer of Varlag.'

"Can I get you some tea?" Groff added a little more softly. "My throat was dry after all these stories."

"I wouldn't mind," the young man smiled. The old man might have blurted out something else if he had given him a little break and didn't bother asking questions, so he could stay a little longer.

Groff hung a teapot over the hearth and set two cups and a platter of pie on the table. Soon, the kettle whistled, and Groff poured hot water into the cups, and the pleasant aroma of herbs filled the room. Richard blew on the hot drink and took a sip.

He was thinking about Groff and his knowledge, and he was also thinking about the mysterious girl, who might be the last of the elven line. Now that he knew about Varlag, his unease only increased, because the elf girl was being chased by someone. What if it's a follower of the ownerking? He wanted to run to Ilda right now and share everything with her. But that would be very reckless; Groff could easily have followed him. And that's probably what he planned to do.

The guy stood up:

"Veya must be waiting for me by now," he said, heading for the door. "Thank you for the tea and conversation! Goodnight! I must go!"

"You're right. Don't let your sister worry about you," Groff said, "And come back to my place if you have any problems!"

"Of course! Thank you again for everything!" Richard stepped out of the doorway, clutching the book to his chest, and ran back to the tavern. He glanced back a couple of times to see if Groff was watching him. No, he didn't follow him.

***

Veya was sitting at a table by the window, all alone, obviously bored. Everyone had already gone home, except for a few drinkers who were sitting around drinking beer, and the innkeeper was clearing the dishes from the tables, whistling a tune.

"Where have you been?" she asked irritably. "I've been waiting for you forever!"

Richard sat down next to her.

"What kind of book is this?" Veya's gaze flicked to the folio that her brother had placed on the table.

"Why are you so impatient?" he asked, but kindly. "By the way, there was a stranger who performed here in the tavern. You should have heard him..."

"You should have heard Nora Berett talk about how someone didn't invite her to go out and dance and all that!" Veya flapped her arms, flexing them at the elbows in a chicken-or-goose pose.

"And who is this idiot?"

"Well, you're not exactly quick-witted, Richard."

"Oh, well... She'll get over it," he said, finally realizing that she was talking about him. "You'd better listen, that's what..."

Richard told his sister in detail the words of the wanderer, and then what he'd heard from Groff was that he hadn't mentioned anything about the elf. Veya listened carefully but only asked a few clarifying questions.

"It's all very strange," she said when he had finished. "All of a sudden, a royal ambassador appears in Bertleben, talking about the threat and other misfortunes coming from the forgotten races... And then there's Groff, who knows so much about elves. This Isn't just a coincidence!" Veya shrugged. "I don't know what to think.

"You're right. Up to this point, I had never really considered who Groff was or where he came from in Bertleben. And even now, I don't know if that ambassador was telling the truth..."

Veya pulled the old book toward her and opened it. Carefully flipping through the yellowish pages, they plunged into the distant past. Richard found what Groff said on the pages, but it was all written down in great detail.

"There are so many interesting things here," Veya said, looking up from her book. "Only I can't read anymore, my eyes are closing up... And I still have one more question," she added. " What does all this have to do with you?"

"What does this have to do with me?" her brother was surprised. "I just want to know a little more about our world! Is knowledge a vice?"

"You're hiding something... I can feel it!"

"Don't exaggerate!" Richard waved his hand off. "Let's go home, it's too late. I'm r-r-really tired!" he yawned deliberately and stretched.

"Okay, let's go, but our conversation Isn't over yet," Veya said, her eyes narrowing slightly. She's up to something.