by JA Andrews
Horwen blinked. “A Keeper! How wonderful!”
Alaric bowed his head slightly toward the man.
Queen Saren addressed Horwen. “These good dwarves bring news of nomads gathering here in the Scale Mountains.”
“Nomads? Impossible,” Horwen declared. “I’ve heard no such thing.”
“How many scouts do you have in the mountains?” Saren asked.
“None. Nothing ever happens there.”
Saren’s lips tightened. “If you don’t patrol, how do you know there are no nomads there?”
“My people tell me everything,” Horwen said expansively. “And I’ve heard no news of any nomads.”
Queen Saren’s lips grew even thinner.
“Nevertheless, Your Majesty,” Alaric said, “the dwarves are certain there are some nomads there.” Alaric glanced around the room again. He took a deep breath and continued, “The reason the nomads are especially troubling is that we believe a Shade Seeker is attempting to raise the Rivor.”
There was shocked silence for a moment in the room, then a rumble of conversation.
“What did he say about the Rivor?” Horwen demanded. “Speak up, young man! The Rivor died years ago.”
“Maybe not,” Saren said.
“Oh,” Lord Horwen said. “Oh dear.”
As briefly as he could, Alaric told the council about the sacrifice of the elves. Ayda sat close-lipped on the chest.
“How do you know this about the Shade Seeker?” General Marton asked.
“The Shade Seeker’s name is Gustav, and he traveled with us for a while.”
The general raised his eyebrow.
“No,” Alaric answered the obvious question, “we didn’t know he was a Shade Seeker.”
“We thought he was an idiot,” Ayda said.
“How did you figure it out?” Marton asked.
Alaric opened his mouth, but Ayda beat him to it.
“We had been looking for a treasure,” Ayda began.
“Ooh!” Horwen said. “A treasure hunt!”
“We figured out that he really was a wizard when he stole it right out from under us,” Ayda continued. “Alaric hadn’t told us it was a magical treasure created by a Keeper long ago. It turns out the Shade Seeker had been controlling each of us, including Alaric, in order to find it.” She shrugged. “Then the Shade Seeker flew off on his dragon.”
The queen turned back to Alaric. “That’s a lot of things that didn’t go well, Alaric. Do you know where Gustav is now?”
Alaric paused. “Ahead of us.”
“Do you know where he is going?”
Another pause. “I have some theories.”
Queen Saren sighed and sank back in her chair.
“I thought that man was a Keeper,” Horwen said loudly to Milly.
Alaric scowled.
“As did I,” said the queen tiredly.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Alaric refused to drop his gaze from the queen’s.
“I didn’t begin this”—he waved his hand at the group—”treasure hunt as a Keeper. I fell in with a group searching for something I was interested in.” He paused. “And I had nowhere else to go.”
“Not even back to court where you belong?” she asked.
Alaric clenched his jaw, fighting to keep his voice calm. “I’m not done with what I need to do.”
“There’s more going on in the world than your problems,” she snapped.
Alaric closed his mouth, fuming. The rest of the room was perfectly still. The court scribe’s pen, scratching down the words, was the only sound.
“Stop being mean to Alaric,” Ayda said peevishly.
The queen’s eyes blazed as she turned to the impertinent elf.
“Yes, he did all those things,” Ayda said. “He even helped the Shade Seeker translate some troublesome runes on the map so he could find the treasure.”
Alaric glared at her, and she shot him a cheerful smile back.
“And, no, Alaric doesn’t really want to be a Keeper. Well, most days he doesn’t. At this point, he wishes he could pass this off to someone else or at least get some useful advice instead of having to explain himself to people who didn’t even know there was a threat, much less know how to neutralize it.”
The queen stood to face Ayda, and Alaric rose, too. Douglon pushed himself away from the wall where he had been leaning.
Ayda slid off the chest and stepped forward into the light of a large torch. The room flashed with coppery reflections from her hair. “But there are no other Keepers to rescue you,” Ayda said in a quiet voice that filled the room. “And there are no other elves to sacrifice themselves to save your miserable race that did nothing but fall under Mallon’s power.”
Alaric glanced around the room. Every single face was staring at the elf. The scribe’s pen hovered frozen over the paper. Even Lord Horwen’s eyes were alert.
“So I’d suggest you stop posturing and ask Alaric what it is that he needs you to do in order to save your weak little kingdom from a threat that has destroyed far more powerful races than your own.” Ayda held the queen’s eyes a moment longer. Then giving the queen a cold smile, the elf sat back down on the chest.
Alaric let out a breath.
“Uppity little thing,” Horwen whispered loudly to Milly.
The look Ayda shot Alaric was fierce and, dare he say, loyal? He bowed his head to her and she grinned.
Alaric looked back at Saren, making his voice as calm as possible. “The nomads are gathering no matter what Lord Horwen’s people tell him.” Alaric nodded toward Horwen who was sitting back in his chair, looking confused. “And if Gustav succeeds in raising Mallon, you should be ready for an invasion.”
The council door swung open, and Duke Thornton strode in, followed by two other smug young noblemen. Thornton tossed off the slightest nod to Queen Saren before dropping into one of the chairs. He looked around the table, his eyes falling on the scribe’s book. Noticing that she had already begun taking notes, he scowled at the queen.
Alaric could almost feel the pressure of her fury pull away from him and refocus on the duke. Saren, her hands gripped tightly in her lap below the table, pierced Thornton with her gaze. “How nice of you to join us.”
Thornton’s eyes flicked to Alaric then back to the queen. He opened his mouth to speak, but the queen continued. “These dwarves bring news that nomads are gathering in the Scale Mountains because a Shade Seeker is attempting to raise Mallon.”
Duke Thornton snorted. “The dwarves wouldn’t know an army was gathering above them if the troops were stomping and shouting down every muddy hole they could find. And you expect us to believe that Mallon’s been what? Sleeping for eight years?”
The two dukes next to him smirked.
“Duke Thornton,” Alaric said, keeping his voice level as he targeted the duke with all of his own frustrations. He stood, reaching into his pocket for the scrolls he had requested from the library. “I knew your father.”
Thornton gave him a bored look.
“I met your grandfather, Morlan, once as well,” Alaric said. “I hear that, unlike your father and grandfather, you’re having a hard time keeping the southern passes safe.”
Thornton raised an eyebrow. “The passes are crawling with brigands who worm their way up from the south to harass the gold merchants. My soldiers keep the passes open.”
“Well, that is your job,” Alaric said.
The table had gone quiet. The mapmaker was looking between Alaric and Thornton. The scribe was scribbling away madly, recording each word.
“Yes it is,” Thornton answered. “And what exactly is your job, Keeper? Did you notice that while you’ve been away, the court has continued running just the same? Makes many of us wonder what it is you did when you were here. And it makes us wonder why you came back? Out of a deep loyalty to the queen, was it?”
The anger that had been growing since the meeting with Menwoth surged to the surface. Alaric forced his jaw t
o relax. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Saren sitting perfectly still in her chair, her back stiff.
Alaric let his gaze travel around the room. The rest of the council sat waiting, barely breathing. It was impressive how much weight the young duke carried. Not a single person spoke up against him.
“As far as I’ve heard,” Thornton continued, “wherever you’ve been and whatever you’ve been doing, Her Majesty was displeased with it. So if you haven’t been serving the queen, what have you been doing?”
Alaric let out his breath in a laugh. Whatever this duke deserved, it wasn’t an explanation of Alaric’s actions. He opened his mouth to answer, but Saren spoke first.
“What Keeper Alaric has been doing is not the concern of a lesser southern duke.”
The scribe smirked and wrote the queen’s words with obvious pleasure. Thornton turned furious eyes on the queen.
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” he said in a scathing voice. “This man is the first Keeper I’ve ever met, and I find him less impressive than I had expected.”
“I, on the other hand,” Alaric said, “am impressed by the power you’ve amassed in such a short time at court. The Black Hills are such an insignificant duchy that the nobles from there are rarely even noticed at court.”
Duke Thornton’s eyes went flat, but Alaric ignored him, unrolling one of his scrolls and spreading it out on the table. “But it doesn’t seem to me that court is running quite as well as it did before I left and before you showed up. It seems to me that there is a bit of dishonesty and exploitation going on.” He set his finger on a passage of the scroll and looked back at Thornton. “One of my jobs here is to make sure the truth of things doesn’t get lost.”
Thornton’s eyes narrowed.
“For instance, I have a bit of truth here that deserves to be found.” Alaric cleared his throat and read. “I, Morlan, Duke of the Black Hills, do hereby bind myself as protector of the southern passes. My family is responsible, financially and militarily, for the safety of the three passes leading south from the Black Hills. All financial and military needs will be seen to by myself and my posterity, up to the exhaustion of our resources, before requesting assistance from the crown. In return, King Bowman graciously pardons my treason.”
Alaric raised his eyes to meet Thornton’s stare.
“Do you know what this treason is he’s speaking of?” Alaric asked conversationally. Alaric spread out the other scroll and scanned down it. “King Bowman kept the matter fairly quiet. Here it is. During the twelfth year of King Bowman’s reign, Duke Morlan of the Black Hills was caught pilfering gold from the merchants along the southern trade routes. His men, disguised as highwaymen, robbed and murdered southern merchants, keeping the gold for the Black Hills family and using it to bribe members of the king’s court. When caught, King Bowman generously forgave Morlan the charge of treason in exchange for repayment of the gold stolen, with interest, and Morlan’s agreement to protect the southern trade routes with his own resources. From Midsummer’s Day, year twelve of King Bowman’s reign, the Black Hills duchy is responsible exclusively for the safety of merchants traveling the southern passes. Any losses experienced by the merchants will be repaid by the Black Hills treasury. This treaty is binding to Duke Morlan and his posterity for the duration of the duchy.”
Alaric glanced at Thornton. The duke’s face was white with fury.
“That is an interesting bit of truth,” Queen Saren said.
Thornton opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.
“If you had knowledge of this,” Alaric said, walking around the table toward the duke. “Your recent actions would be treason.”
Thornton’s hands were at his side, clenched into fists.
“These copies are for you,” Alaric said dropping them on the table before the duke. “If I were you, I’d work on how to convince the queen that you didn’t know any of this, that somehow, your father neglected to teach you your family’s duty. I’m sure Her Majesty will be requiring an explanation. Soon. The royal treasury is calculating how much money you have mistakenly accepted from Her Majesty to protect the passes you are responsible for. I suggest you contact your own treasury to begin collecting the funds.”
Thornton shoved his chair back and stood up, glaring at Alaric. His two friends rose, too, backing up toward the door.
“And I also suggest you get that brigand problem under control quickly. Her Majesty will be checking with the gold merchants who enter Queenstown to make sure they’ve received safe passage.”
Thornton turned blazing eyes to the queen.
She looked back at him calmly. “I’ll send for you when I have time. Do not leave the palace.”
Duke Thornton grabbed the scrolls, spun on his heels, and stormed from the room, followed quickly by the other two.
Saren sank back in her chair, a genuine smile spreading across her face.
Alaric bowed to her. It didn’t make up for everything, but it was a start.
Chapter Thirty-Four
With the exit of Duke Thornton, the tension in the room dissolved. Alaric walked back to his seat amidst a sea of murmuring.
Saren cocked her head to the side. “Alaric, how did you find out about Gustav and what he was doing?”
“I was searching for some information from an old Keeper named Kordan when I met this group. Douglon had discovered the remains of Kordan’s home in a valley in the Scales.”
“The Keeper didn’t live at the Stronghold?” Saren asked.
“Not at the end of his life. He left the Keepers and built his own home, west of here at the edge of the Scales. Douglon had found a map there to where Kordan had buried a Wellstone.”
The queen and Lord Horwen looked impressed by this. Most of the other faces in the room were blank.
“What’s a Wellstone?” asked General Marton.
“A gem that holds memories or energy. They are extremely rare, and it is what I had been searching for. Unfortunately, it’s what Gustav was looking for as well. To raise Mallon, Gustav is going to have to find a lot of energy and store it somewhere. The Wellstone would be the perfect tool for that.”
“What are you planning next, Alaric?” Saren asked.
“We’re going to the Greenwood to move the Rivor’s body to a more protected place. It won’t stop Gustav forever, but it will slow him down and give us more time to find him.”
General Marton cleared his throat. “This Shade Seeker is in Queensland preparing to raise Mallon. So who is organizing the nomads?”
Alaric shrugged. “I have no idea. But I can’t believe the two things are unrelated.”
“It was Gustav!” Milly said suddenly. The entire room turned toward her and she shrank back into her chair. “I mean, it could have been.”
Alaric shook his head. “He’s been in Kordan’s Blight for months.”
“I know,” Milly said. “But he told me once that before he came to Kordan’s Blight, he traveled the Roven Sweep among the nomads. He said they loved him.”
Lord Horwen was looking in amazement at Milly, “This is the queen’s council, young woman! Not a tavern where peasants shout out rumors. Hold your tongue!”
“Lord Horwen,” the queen said sharply, “she is welcome to speak. If I didn’t allow rumors in my council meetings, we would have very little to discuss. Milly, do you think Gustav was telling the truth?”
She paused. “Well, I didn’t. He also told me once that he could move the moon.” She looked at Alaric. “That’s impossible, right?”
Alaric nodded at her. “Definitely.”
“So I thought he was just making more things up,” she continued. “He doesn’t seem like a man anyone would follow, but…”
“But what?” the queen said impatiently.
Milly looked at Alaric again. “He always gets what he wants. None of you really liked him, but you all did exactly what he wanted.”
“He managed to influence us,” Douglon said. “But he could hardly do that to an
entire army.”
“He wouldn’t have to control the entire army,” General Marton said, “just the leaders.”
Alaric shook his head again. Gustav couldn’t have done that, too. Could he? The idea had the unsettling feeling of being… probable. And if the dwarves were right, the nomads had been slowly gathering for months. Theoretically, Gustav could have set things in motion before going to Kordan’s Blight.
“This wizard fellow doesn’t sound as foolish as you all made him sound,” Horwen said with a chuckle. “Sounds like an evil mastermind!”
General Marton nodded.
Saren nodded as well. “Whether Gustav is the mastermind behind this or not, it is clear that we face a threat. One we didn’t even dream possible.” She looked at the maps and then turned toward Alaric. “What do you need us to do?”
“Ready the army and send some scouts to figure out what the nomads are doing. If we can stop Gustav, I think the nomads will disperse. But if he is successful…” Alaric looked around the room, knowing he didn’t need to finish. “We might as well put up a fight.”
The queen nodded. “There are things to plan,” she said to the council. “You all know your jobs.” The council members rose, talking among themselves and moving out of the room.
“You live in the Scale Mountains,” Horwen was saying loudly to Menwoth. “You should come to the library with me. I’ve been studying maps of the mountains near my lands, but they are woefully incomplete. Your expertise would help.”
Menwoth nodded. “I have spent a great deal of time with High Dwarf Horgoth’s maps, sir. It is possible that I could fill in some gaps.”
“He’s never actually spent any time in the mountains, though,” Douglon muttered to Brandson. Menwoth shot him a glare.
“Excellent!” the old man boomed, his cane tapping quickly on the floor as he walked toward the door with Menwoth. “It’s nice to talk to someone of sense. I’m stuck with commoners so often. My steward sent me a message today claiming they’ve seen a red dragon over the Greenwood.” He waved his arms around. “Help, Lord Horwen! A blood-red dragon rides the sky at night!” He shook his head. “Peasants! There hasn’t been a dragon in Queensland since before I was born.”
