Dwarves and Wizards

by Jaxon Reed

  Nippit said, “We’ll accompany ye t’ th’ common room, ‘Ighness.”

  He took up position on her right while another moved to her left. The one who had manned the door followed. All three guards grasped the hilts of their swords as they moved forward, heads swiveling up and down the hall, ready for any threats.

  They found the common room empty, the guests long gone. The affable and ever-present Pywot had evidently retired for the evening some time previous.

  Nippit said, “Le’s do th’ search, lads. I’ll stay wi’ th’ princess.”

  They heard a commotion outside, the sound of boots on bricks and someone barking orders.

  Dally headed for the inn’s door, leaving the guards to scramble after her.

  “Be careful, ’Ighness!” Nippit called out.

  She flung open the door without any regard for safety. Out in the street, a large contingent of local guards assembled. One stood on the inn’s steps shouting out orders under the light of glowstones. When Dally and her three protectors approached from the door, he turned around.

  Dally said, “Wha’s happenin’?”

  “Cap’n Tun, Princess, at yer service. Prince Pudge sen’s word th’ Quarry is un’er attack. His message says someone be tryin’ t’ open Lok’s tomb. They done killed th’ lads guardin’ th’ entrance. We dinna ken ’ow many be waitin’ fer ’im. I was tol’ t’ gather as many lads as I could.”

  Dally’s face screwed up in alarm. She said, “Ha’ y’ seen the crown prince? Is Pudge wi’ ’im?”

  “I dinna ken. Sober! Gi’ up here, lad!”

  A young guard broke away from the main group and trotted up the steps.

  Tun said, “Sober brough’ th’ message from Por’reeve Nudge. Sober, were th’ crown prince wi’ ’im?”

  “Nay.”

  “Are ye sure, lad?”

  “Aye. Nay crown prince. Jus’ th’ por’reeve.”

  Tun looked back at her with apologetic eyes as Sober returned to the formation.

  He yelled out, “Alrigh’ lads! T’ th’ quarry, double time!”

  A cheer erupted from the local guards and they tromped away, headed toward the rear gate to the city. Each one held a sword and wore a look of fierce determination.

  “I be goin’ af’er ’em,” Dally said, and she headed down the steps to follow the group as the last dwarf passed by.

  Nippit reached out a hand and said, “Nay, ’Ighness! I’ be nay safe!”

  “Y’ kinna tell me ‘nay.’ At leas’ one prince be a’ th’ quarry. Mine may be nearby. Everythin’ be happenin’ there, so tha’s where I be goin’.”

  With that, she trotted down the street to catch up with the guards.

  Nippit hurried to follow her. Over his shoulder he said, “One o’ youse come wit’. Th’ other, go an’ grab some more lads an’ mee’ us a’ th’ quarry!”

  -+-

  Bellasondra pulled Horse to a stop on the floor of the quarry and looked around in confusion. A jumble of boulders and smaller rocks littered the floor of the giant square pit.

  She said, “There’s nothing here.”

  Everyone stood up and looked around.

  “It’s too dark to see much of anything,” Bartimo said.

  Veeroy said, “Mayhap we can follow tracks.”

  He hopped out of the cart and walked forward a few paces, then cast his tracking spell. Footsteps and wheeled paths appeared, glowing in soft white light on the ground.

  Veeroy looked back at where the road emptied out into the quarry. Most of the tracks led in a straight line from there.

  He climbed back in the cart and said, “Follow the main bunch of them, what glows the brightest.”

  Bellasondra nodded and gave the reins a flick of her wrist. Horse started forward.

  Within minutes she pulled on the reins to make Horse stop. The tracks ended in a huge jumble of stones piled up against the far wall of the quarry.

  Phanissa said, “Looks like somebody has blocked the way. Recently, too.”

  Veeroy said, “Aye. Those last were made a few minutes ago.”

  He pointed at the brightly shining wheeled tracks leading to a covered wagon parked nearby.

  “That must be what carried Stin from the boat,” Bellasondra said.

  “Two of them exited the wagon and walked together,” Veeroy said. “Likely carrying him. They went yonder way now covered with rocks.”

  “How are we supposed to follow?”

  No one had an answer for that.

  “Where’d the little folk go?” Plinny said.

  Veeroy pointed to fresh tracks leading off to the other sides of the quarry. The dwarves, by the looks of it, quickly ran elsewhere.

  He said, “Mayhap they went looking for another way in.”

  A transport globe appeared suddenly, to one side of the rocks. Soft shafts of golden light shot around the quarry as it spun lazily in place.

  Oldstone appeared, followed quickly by Greystone, Redstone, and Loadstone.

  “Leave it to something called the ‘Shadow Council’ to make their move at night!” Redstone said, stifling a yawn.

  Greystone addressed Bellasondra and said, “I apologize we have not been paying closer attention. We probably should have expected something like this to happen.”

  “We’re not used to dealing with people in general,” Loadstone said. “Evil people in particular.”

  Oldstone said, “Where’s Darkstone?”

  “She flew away when we started out from Port Osmo,” Bellasondra said. “We haven’t seen her since. Do you think one of you could get these boulders out of the way? We think they took Stin that way.”

  “Leave it to me,” Redstone said. He concentrated, holding both hands out in front of him and made a scooping motion. Altogether the stones, rocks, and boulders scooted over several paces, revealing the entrance to the recently enlarged drainage tunnel.

  Greystone smiled at the group on the cart. He said, “We’ll go in. It’s probably safest if you all stayed out here.”

  With that, he followed Oldstone and the other two wizards down into the tunnel.

  -+-

  At long last, Stin heard the top of his box pry open. The wizard had ordered the dwarves to “pop the top,” and they tackled the task with gusto.

  He watched carefully as slits of dim light appeared above his head. With a final reluctant groan of nails and wood, the top came off completely and the dwarves threw it aside to the cavern floor with a loud clatter.

  Stin jumped up, standing hunched over. He was stiff in every joint, muscles crying out in pain. But he held the blade out, threatening.

  “Ha!”

  He waved the Forlorn Dagger at the dwarves, who scampered back out of the way.

  Stin looked and felt like a mess. His body odor reeked from confinement, offending even his own nose in the fresher air outside the box. He turned, awkwardly, waiting for his muscles to complain less and circulation to return.

  His eyes had no problems with the dim light of the cavern. Behind him, in a rough semi-circle, stood a dozen well-dressed men and one dwarf. Everyone stared at him intently, and warily, glancing down at the knife then up again at his wild, unshaven face. But no one seemed overly alarmed.

  One of them looked to be dressed in the robes of a wizard, though he looked younger than others Stin had seen.

  This one smiled at him and said, “Welcome. You are probably wondering what you are doing here. We have one last need of your services, Master Stin. Behind you, you will notice a certain door. The item you are holding is the key to that door. What we would like you to do for us, is insert the dagger into a slot you’ll see on the right. It’s at waist level. Insert it and twist it, like a key.”

  Stin’s face fell. He was not expecting to hear such a reasonable tone from the wizard. And the fact nobody really looked overly worried or alarmed felt disconcerting.

  He glanced over his shoulder, then awkwardly turned his feet again. A giant metal door stretched up
into the heights of the cavern. Carved in relief, a dwarf appeared to be casting a spell.

  Stin said, “The tomb of . . . Lok? That’s the only dwarf wizard I ever heard of.”

  He heard some feet shuffle behind him, nervously. He clumsily turned around again. At this point, circulation had mostly returned to his limbs and although his legs were not at a hundred percent, he felt more prepared for footwork should the need arise. He maintained his slow and deliberate movements, though, in order to deceive everyone watching.

  Stin said, “Why in the world would I want to open Lok’s tomb for you? Are you all mad? You have no idea what’s behind that door. And whatever it is, it’s nothing good.”

  The wizard smiled again, with an expression that appeared to Stin as if he were humoring a child.

  He said, “Allow me to introduce us, my good Stin. I am the Wizard Quartzstone. This is Crown Prince Pudge, of Norweg. You have already met Baron Windthorn, one of our newest members. Others here include nobility from most all the major kingdoms.

  “Indirectly we hired you some time ago to steal the dagger from Windthorn when we learned he had come into possession of it. Since then we have recruited him to our cause. It was his idea to hire you again to bring the dagger back to us. Well done, I must say!”

  Everyone smiled at this, except Stin. He waited patently for Quartzstone to continue.

  The wizard cleared his throat and said, “We represent a council tasked with reopening Lok’s tomb. We stand now at the threshold of achieving that goal. As for the question of why, that is a valid concern. I will address it.

  “Behind this door are unspeakable riches and treasure buried with Lok by his closest followers after the Battle of Hest. There is an incredible amount of gold and jewelry there. More wealth than you could possibly imagine. You see, this cavern was his personal lair, and he accumulated a massive fortune in his lifetime.

  “He was widely considered a wizard, but in truth he never earned a stone to call his own. And so, he never was able to master the art of creating gold. Instead, he simply took the treasure he wanted from others. He stored it all behind this very door. As a thief, I’m sure this huge sum would be of interest to you. Once the door is open, you are welcome to all the gold you can carry out of here.”

  Stin shrugged, and winced from the pain the movement brought.

  He said, “I’ve got lots of gold already, more than I can spend in one lifetime.”

  “You can never have enough gold,” Quartzstone said.

  “Maybe so. But I know how to get more if I need it.”

  The wizard smiled and continued in his persuasive tone, undeterred.

  He said, “Well, even more than that, Stin . . . even more than the copious piles of gold and jewels . . . herein lie some of the most ancient magical artifacts, some of the most powerful weapons ever created. They include items made by the First Wizards, items retaining strong magic down through the millennia. Items that can be used by the bearer . . . even if that person does not have the abilities of a wizard.”

  Stin rubbed his chin with one hand, holding the dagger in the other. He still appeared unconvinced.

  He said, “What kind of items are we talking about?”

  “Bows that never miss their mark. Lances that can pierce any armor. Swords that can cut through anything and never break. And more, lots more! Everything is stored here, has been stored here safely down through the centuries. We’ll give you first pick of any artifact you find behind that door.”

  Stin said, “Any artifact I find? Why do you word it that way? Are the artifacts hidden? Are the best ones in places where I won’t find them?”

  “No, not at all,” Quartzstone said, waving both hands in a placating gesture. “We will give you first choice of any of the artifacts inside, wherever they may be within.”

  Stin paused a bit longer, thinking. Then he said, “Alright. Why don’t you open the door? Here, take the dagger.”

  He turned it hilt-first toward Quartzstone.

  Despite himself, the wizard took a step backward. The others in the semi-circle looked disturbed, as well. To a man, they all shuffled their feet or made some other nervous gesture. Even the dwarf prince looked alarmed, his eyes shining brightly above his beard, staring at the blade.

  “Honestly, Stin,” Quartzstone said, “Nobody wants to touch a weapon that saps their magic. Especially not me. I must hold my powers intact at all time. I’m a wizard, you see. The other gentlemen here likewise are unused to the properties of this particular weapon, and handling it would trouble them.

  “But you . . . You have handled it extensively. You found it and pried it from Windthorn’s library and have since carried it across land and sea. You have a special affinity for this dagger, Stin. I think you like it. Maybe, in its own way somehow, it likes you, too.”

  Stin snorted. He said, “It’s an inanimate object. It has no feelings.”

  “Maybe so. Maybe so. But you cannot deny there is some special bond between you and this dagger. Besides, you are familiar with it and we brought you here for this purpose. Now, I am going to ask once more. Walk over and insert the blade into the keyhole, then turn it.”

  Stin stood still. He stared each man in the eye, one by one. It appeared as if he were gauging their sincerity. At least, that is how he hoped it looked to them. In actuality, he was memorizing their faces. If he came out of this alive, each man would be paid a visit in due course. When he finished with the humans, he did the same for the dwarves present.

  At last he turned back toward the door and took a careful step outside the box, stretching and lifting his legs over the side. He took another couple of steps forward then paused, fighting vertigo.

  He looked over his shoulder and noted that everyone stayed in place. No one approached the door with him.

  “Aren’t you going to come with me? This is what you have all been waiting for, right?”

  Quartzstone said, “No. We will maintain our distance. The door will swing wide when it opens and we don’t want to be in the way. You go on and open it. Now.”

  Suspicion clouded Stin’s face.

  He said, “Wait. Something is obviously not right about this. How do I know you’re not lying? How do I know there really is untold treasure and a stash of ancient magical artifacts behind that door?”

  Quartzstone’s back straightened and he lifted his chin in indignation at the assertion.

  He said, “You’ll have to take my word for it, Stin. I helped store the treasure behind that door when we sealed Lok inside, hundreds of years ago. We made sure everything was in place, then took the magical entrance out of here before destroying it behind us. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

  Stin’s blood grew cold. Before him stood a follower of Lok. An actual follower, someone who had fought for the evil wizard back when Lok spread terror throughout the land.

  The thought amazed him. With all the trouble, with all the carnage, with all the blatant evil Lok committed, it never occurred to Stin that anyone might still be alive who had been one of his original followers. Now before him stood someone who had walked with Lok and willingly participated in his crimes. That person still lived today!

  He maintained his Primero face. Calmly he said, “You were a wizard back then? How did you get away with it? I thought the wizards fought against Lok.”

  “I was not a wizard at the time, no. I was simply a powerful mage who Lok recruited. I did what I could for him during the battle, but I kept a low profile. In the meantime, others were killed and the remaining wizards began looking for new stone keepers. I managed to win the quartzstone and take my place on the Magic Council.”

  His chest seemed to swell in pride. Mentally, Stin made some quick observations. This wizard had remained a follower of Lok all these years, apparently unbeknownst to the others. He wondered if there were more like him. He speculated if the last Wizard Darkstone, the one responsible for all the trouble in the Hidden Woods and the Emerald Kingdom, had been a se
cret follower of Lok too. That made sense, he thought. It had to be true.

  “Master Stin, our time is running short,” Quartzstone said, his tone turning more threatening. “I’m afraid I really must insist. Take your dagger. Go and open that door.”

  The wizard gave a glance to Pudge. Pudge nodded and made a gesture to his four guards. They brought their swords up and pointed them at Stin. They advanced toward him slowly while the others watched.

  20

  Kirt walked slowly through the underbrush, pushing deeper through the trees. He felt himself drawing closer to a strong source of magic. If he had to describe it in physical terms he would have likened it to a bonfire. The closer one approaches, the warmer one feels.

  He paused for a moment as the trunk of a large tree leered at him out of the gloom. He sidestepped to avoid it, only to be thwacked in the face by a low-hanging branch.

  Frustration bubbled up as thick vegetation hampered his way in the dark. He willed for light to appear. Any light. Something to guide his way.

  A tiny point of candlelight appeared, briefly, in front of his face. His heart raced in surprise as it flickered out. A sudden realization and certainty filled him. As spells go, it seemed crude. And yet, it had provided a modicum of luminescence.

  He concentrated again, focused, and the light returned. A tiny glowing orb floated in the air before him, a little brighter this time. He had performed his first conscious spell by an act of will. This, he knew, marked a personal milestone.

  “Now,” he said, pushing in the air with his hand, “go in front of me.”

  The little light moved a few paces from his face. At last, he could see ahead. Looking down and watching his step, he continued making his way through the foliage.

  He stopped after a few more paces and focused again on the source of magic up ahead. The light dimmed as his attention shifted from it. He hurriedly returned his mental energy to the tiny orb. Then, carefully, he tried reaching out to find the magic again, balancing the dual acts in his mind.