Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #15 June 2015 | Page 33

the stream that flows from it is the Life Stream that
provides the water supply for Tamarlan. The dwarves
call it Warning Falls, because it marks the boundary to
their realm. Any who pass here must be dwarf friends
or suffer the consequences. The path from here leads
to the very steep and exceedingly difficult climb of
Suicide Pass. It was good that we avoided it. It was
so named after the failed attack on Devil’s Mouth
by Gadiel’s army in 11144. The Dark God’s soldiers
had enormous superiority in numbers but became so
dispirited by their failure to make headway against
a small defence force of dwarves that many of them,
rather than face the Dark God’s wrath, threw themselves off the mountainside. Come, we will make
great headway now. We will find transport when we
reach the plains and will be in Tamarlan before nightfall. We will feast in my father’s court tonight.” Manfred’s stomach was already rumbling in anticipation. It
will be good to see my old friend Gamyon again.
Buoyed by the beauty of the plains, the relative ease
of the rest of the journey, and the prospect of a warm
bath and a hot meal, the weary travellers found renewed energy in their legs. The rest of the descent
went without a hitch and they were soon walking
briskly through sweet smelling fields of grasses and
wild flowers. Kris appeared to be susceptible to hay
fever, because he was soon repeatedly sneezing and
wheezing. Gamying’s smile just got wider and brighter.
After a few miles, they found the first of many farmhouses. The entire family was at work in the fields,
making up for lost time. At the sight of the unexpected
travellers, the women and children were ushered back
to the house and the men and youths called their dogs
and approached the group with pitchforks and scythes
at the ready. Their demeanour changed instantly when
they recognised Gamying. They dropped to their
knees and showed great respect to their Heir-Regent.
The group was welcomed warmly. While the youths
readied a horse wagon, the women fussed around preparing a meal of fresh bread and cheese washed down
with mead. Manfred patted his stomach and sighed.
That was the best bread and cheese of my long life. He
burped loudly and was not at all embarrassed.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Manfred, probably because he spent most of it dozing in the back of
the wagon. Aglaral drove the wagon with Gamying
sitting up front with him. Kris snivelled in the back
with Manfred. The road followed the course of the
Life Stream. They passed many farms and received
similar receptions to the first. They respectfully declined all further offers of hospitality with the need to
reach Tamarlan upmost in their minds.
Manfred woke up as they approached the city. It was
always a fine sight, entering the city of artists. Tamarlan sat in the middle of the northern plains, like a
fancy jewel set in the middle of an otherwise unembellished brooch. The plains were extensively farmed and
provided food not only for the city but also to trade
with the dwarves for their gold and gemstones. These
treasures were used both for artistic purposes and to
trade for other goods and services the city needed. Its
geographic location meant that trade was very difficult and only possible when the mountain passes were
open in summer. It also meant that Tamarlan, over the
long years, had become totally self-sufficient. It had
become a haven for those seeking to escape the world
for whatever reasons, but particularly it had become a
haven for artists of all persuasions. Manfred had visited the city many times and always enjoyed his stays.
He liked visiting the theatre to see t