The Phantom Dwarf

by J. M. Fosberg

  The dwarf who had leapt onto the Chaos Dwarf’s back stood up. “Most of them were. They did a count after the fighting was done, but they couldn’t get an exact count. Many of the bodies were thoroughly destroyed by the dwarves of Tiefes Loch. We know there were one hundred Chaos Dwarves originally. To King Stoneheart’s best estimate, there were eight to twelve who were not destroyed when it was all over.”

  “Seven to eleven now,” one of the battered dwarves who had been holding the flailing Chaos Dwarf’s feet said.

  Fuhrung stared down at the abomination of his race. “At least we know we can defeat them. If we get attacked again, don’t try to fight it one on one. We need to gang up on it and bring it down like we did. Once we get them on the ground, we can finish them off.”

  All of the dwarves nodded in acceptance before turning to look over at the destroyed body of the dwarf who had tried to fight alone.

  After a few moments, Fuhrung looked around at the other dwarves. One of them had a war hammer. “Can I borrow that?”

  The dwarf looked down at his hammer and then handed it to Fuhrung.

  Fuhrung grabbed the Chaos Dwarf’s sword hand and placed it in the fire. He left it there until it started glowing. The other dwarves watched silently. The fire wasn’t as hot as a forge would be, and the Chaos Dwarf’s steel was enchanted, so the metal only reach a dull glow, but Fuhrung hoped it would be enough. He grabbed the dwarf’s arm, pulling the hand out of the fire. He rested it on the dwarf’s chest, so that the steel would be under it then brought the war hammer down hard, driving the spike into the thumb of the Chaos Dwarf’s hand. The thumb broke free. After a few more strikes, Fuhrung was able to break the sword free. When he turned around, the other dwarves were all staring at him.

  He inspected his new blade. “He broke my grandfather’s sword. The least he could do was give me his.”

  One of the dwarves burst into laughter. The others looked at him curiously. At least one of these Tiefes Loch dwarves has a sense of humor.

  By the time they had built a pyre for the fallen dwarf, light was beginning to make its way over the horizon. Once the body of the dwarf was destroyed, the dwarf’s soul would be free to leave the mortal plane. They watched as the pyre burned down. The sun had crested the horizon and started making its way into the sky by the time they were moving toward Tiefes Loch again.

  Chapter Seven

  Nominating a King

  “He should be executed for treason!” Captain Merwein, the cousin of the recently deceased King Merwein, shouted. He was also next in line for the throne. Someone had convinced him after his cousin’s death that taking the throne was likely to lead to the separation of his head from his shoulders, so he had agreed to Commander Boris’ proposed vote for a leader. He would not agree to Commander Boris, however. They now sat in the audience chamber of the palace with one hundred of the city’s most powerful individuals. They had opened the floor for nominations and Captain Foringi, of all people, had nominated Commander Boris.

  Captain Foringi turned to Captain Merwein. Captain Foringi was the leader of the King’s Guard, which placed him one rung of authority above Captain Merwein, who was the leader of the city guard. “He did what none of us would. We all knew it had to happen eventually. He was driving this city into the sea. A couple more years and there would have been nothing left to save. Your cousin was a dolt. He was a selfish, foolish, greedy man, who never made a single decision for the good of the kingdom.”

  “My cousin is not on trial here. Commander Boris is the one who—”

  “Is not on trial,” Master Kauffman stated. He was the richest man in Portwein and the leader of the merchant’s guild. He was initially a favorite for succession, but he had flat out stated that he would not entertain the notion. He was happy with his position. He had money and power without all the responsibility. “Commander Boris did what he did. The city stands behind him. More importantly, the army stands behind him. If you want to try to execute him, feel free. No one in this room will stop you. If you can overpower him and get him out of the palace, feel free. I promise that the soldiers of this city would cut you down before you made it a block from the palace. That is, if the palace guards didn’t beat them to it. Face it, Captain Merwein, your cousin was a tyrant, and Commander Boris is the hero who saved the city. Now Commander Boris has been nominated as the next king of Portwein. You have objected. Is there anyone who would like to support the nomination?”

  “I support the nomination,” Master Seiden stated plainly. It was no surprise. Master Seiden was the largest silk trader in all of Gegend. He had been engaged a few years back, but King Merwein had forced his fiancée to marry him instead. A year later, he had her executed for trying to sabotage his bloodline. She had not become pregnant, and he claimed she had been eating some herb to prevent pregnancy.

  Master Kaufmann would likely have supported Commander Boris as well, but he was the executioner of ceremony so he was unable to vote. “Is there any further support?” he asked.

  “I support Commander Boris.” Master Segler was the leader of the fishing guild in Portwein. He also had a reason to despise the king Commander Boris had deposed. Master Segler had taken a large portion of his life savings and his business to build himself the largest fishing vessel ever built. When King Merwein saw it, he forced Segler to sell it to the throne for half of what it had cost him to build it. Segler had already sold many of his other vessels and, when he lost his ship to the king, it took his business years to recover.

  Master Kauffman stood on the platform in front of the throne. “There is support for Commander Boris as the next King of Portwein. All who support.”

  Dozens of hands went up throughout the chamber. Captain Merwein did his best to glare at every single person with their hand up. “It is supported. Commander Boris is nominated as the King of Portwein. Are there any other nominations?”

  “I nominate Captain Merwein.” Everyone looked to see who had said it. It was one of his lieutenants. The lieutenant was a part of the assembly, because his father was Master Bauer, the leader of the farmer’s guild. He was also the largest distributor of wheat in the city. He had, for some reason, been unable to attend and sent his son as a proxy.

  Master Kauffman smiled at the young man. He had known Master Bauer for a long time, and this young man would likely be beaten bloody by his father for embarrassing their family. “Captain Merwein has been nominated as the next King of Portwein. Is there anyone who would like to support the nomination?”

  The room was silent. Captain Merwein looked around the room for support, but received none. These people had found a way out of the tyranny of his family and planned to take it. He stormed out of the audience chamber. When the door slam finished echoed through the room, Master Kauffman spoke again. “There is no support for Captain Merwein, and he will not receive a nomination. Are there any further nominations?” The room was silent. Anyone who might have been capable of the job had flat out refused to take it. They were already successful and did not want the responsibilities that would come with trying to clean up Merwein’s mess. “There are no further nominations. Commander Boris will receive the only nomination from this council. The official vote will be held publicly three days from now. The people will be afforded a nomination before the final vote takes place.”

  Commander Boris stood waiting as the room slowly emptied. Most of these people had very demanding schedules and quickly went about their business. Some who knew him came to congratulate him. Some came to thank him for rescuing them from King Merwein. A few offered condolences for the loss of his arm. A few asked him about the war with the dwarves, and then there were those who were already looking for political gain. He quickly shut those ones down, explaining that he wasn’t going to start making any decisions until he was officially elected and then not until he had sorted through what the state of the kingdom was. It took quite a while, but eventually it was just he, Kaufmann, and a few guards.

  “It should have b
een you,” Boris told Master Kaufmann.

  “No. You are the right choice. I know more about finances and politics, but you care more about the people. If we just wanted to make the kingdom rich, I would have been the better choice, but even then I would have had to choose between making the kingdom wealthy and making myself wealthy. You will do a better job, because you know how to disseminate. You know what you don’t know. If you choose the best people for the jobs, and institute checks to ensure they are controlled, you will be successful and the city will thrive. You care about the people, and you know how to lead. You will figure the rest out.”

  “Thank you, Kauffman,” Boris said as they made their way out of the chamber. “You’ll help me sort through all of the financial stuff, won’t you?”

  “Of course, Your Highness, for a small fee, that is.”

  Boris laughed and shook his head. “And so it begins.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jerrie’s Pain

  Jerrie rolled over in his bed. He couldn’t sleep, and his whole body was sore. He had run out of the poppy drink this morning. Now his whole body was hurting. He needed more, but he just wasn’t sure where to get it. The army was back, but he had already asked one of the soldiers about getting more. Now that they were in the city, their medics no longer had it on hand. He would have to go see someone, and he did not want to do that. Since he couldn’t sleep anyway, he decided to go see if he could find someone who had it in the city.

  He made his way down the dark streets of Portwein. He had initially gone down the market streets, but they were all vacant. The market stores wouldn’t be open in the middle of the night. The pain must be dulling his senses. He decided to go down by the docks. The docks were running through the night and so were the shops and bars. Someone would know where he could get a poppy concoction. Those dwarves didn’t know what they were talking about. A dwarf might heal from a steel plate being screwed into their head, but he sure wasn’t healing. Once he made it to the docks, he found a pub that seemed busy.

  He entered the Floppy Fish, and the smell of salty air was immediately replaced by the smells of sweat, vomit, and stale ale. He noticed a couple of sailors at a nearby table. One of them was missing three fingers on one hand and another had a long scar down the side of his face and a missing ear. These sailors would know where to get something for his pain. He went over and stood at the edge of the table. He had grown up in the city, but he had made a point of being unnoticed his whole life. Now he wanted to seem unthreatening.

  “What ye want?” the man with the scarred face asked. Apparently he was being unthreatening.

  Jerrie dropped his gaze. “I got injured real bad. I was given opium for the pain, but I have run out. I was hoping you might be able to direct me to someone who could help me. A ship physician or someone who I could purchase an opium concoction from.”

  “Ain’t no doc here. You want a ship healer, find a ship. This a pub, they got brew. Get gone, ‘for we show you show you what hurt bad is.”

  Jerrie got extremely angry. Normally he wouldn’t have even paid the man’s comments any mind, but right now he was in pain and this man was antagonizing him. He looked up and stared into the man’s eyes. He saw the man shift uncomfortably, but the two other men at the table were adjusting so that they could get up quickly.

  A man at the next table stood up and turned toward him. “Don’t worry ‘bout these ol’ sea dogs. I know someone who can help you.”

  Jerrie turned to the man. He was smaller; he didn’t look like he worked on a ship. All of the sailors seemed to have very defined upper bodies. This man didn’t share their build, but he did seem like he could take care of himself. You wouldn’t hang out in a place like this if you couldn’t. Jerrie looked at the man’s table to see if he was being set up, but none of the men at the table seemed like they were planning on getting up. “Lead the way,” Jerrie said.

  “There is a small finder’s fee,” the man said.

  “When you get me to someone who can help,” Jerrie said, cutting him off.

  “Fair enough,” the man said, leading the way out of the pub. They headed up the street four blocks and made a left turn down a side street.

  “Where we going?” Jerrie asked.

  “There’s a lady a few more blocks away that takes care of sailors that get hurt on ship. If they are too injured to go back out when their ship sails again, she takes care of them.”

  Jerrie wanted to believe. It seemed like a legitimate explanation, but something seemed off about this man. He still couldn’t figure out what it was. When they made another left, his suspicion heightened.

  “Why are we going back toward the pub?” Jerrie asked.

  “Oh, uh, I just missed the turn. It’s kind of confusing at night. Here, it’s the next alley down.”

  Jerrie knew that he should just leave, but it was still possible he was being paranoid. He needed to get the medicine. “You first,” he told the man. When the man turned the corner into the alley, Jerrie slid one hand behind his back and gripped his enchanted dagger. Five steps down the alley, he was glad he did.

  Two of the men from the pub stepped out of a doorway behind him. Another stepped out of the doorway in front of him. The man he had been following turned around and stood next to the man in front of him. Both of them now held daggers. When he looked behind him, he saw that both of the men behind him had cutlasses. One of them was the big man with the missing ear.

  The man who had led him here was about ten paces ahead of him. “Strip down. Leave your weapons and money, and we will let you walk away.”

  “And if I don’t?” Jerrie asked.

  “Then we kill you and take it anyway. Doesn’t matter much to us which you chose. Brax likes the fight, so he is probably hoping you chose not to give it up.”

  Jerrie heard the big man behind him chuckle. He reached down to his waist as if he were about to strip, but instead grabbed the dagger and threw it. With his speed-enchanted glove, he released the dagger before any of them realized he had moved. The man who had led him here grabbed his chest and fell to his knees. In the lamplight, Jerrie could see the disbelief on the man’s face before he fell forward into the trash and mud-littered alley. Jerrie drew his enchanted dagger from his behind his back and slid another dagger from its place on his lower leg.

  The big man they had called Brax came charging in at his back. Jerrie stared down the man who had been standing next to the leader. He was waiting, thinking that Brax was going to finish him off, and Brax was charging in, thinking Jerrie was focused on the target in front of him. When Brax was two steps away, Jerrie spun to his left. Brax had been holding his cutlass in his right hand. When Jerrie spun, he brought his left arm up. His bracers were lightly enchanted to deflect blows. He smacked the bracer on the inside of the cutlass, knocking it out wide at the same time he brought his enchanted dagger up into the bottom of Brax’s chin. The blade went into the skull, and Jerrie had to sidestep as the momentum of the big man took his now lifeless body tumbling forward.

  The other two probably would have run away at this point, but Jerrie fell to a knee and began to vomit. The exertion had been too much for his body. Both men charged him. They were both within a few paces of him when he finished vomiting. He threw both of his daggers in opposite directions and leaped forward. Both men received a dagger hilt deep in the chest and then stumbled forward into each other before falling into Jerrie’s recently expelled stomach matter.

  Jerrie retrieved his weapons. When he grabbed his dagger from the man who had led him to the alley, he started to swoon and had to take a knee. He realized that he was losing control of his body. A woman came out of a doorway just ahead of him. “I’m going to help. What have you been taking?" she asked.

  Jerrie was relieved. “A poppy concoction the soldiers gave me,” he explained.

  She helped him inside the small house and laid him on a cot. She had him drink some kind of concoction. It didn’t taste anything like the poppy concoctio
n. He tried to protest, but his mouth wasn’t working. Sleep came for him. He tried to fight it, but it overtook him.

  Chapter Nine

  A King’s Nomination

  “We need to go see this necromancer,” Kraft said.

  “We need Boris’ help. We don’t know anything about him, and it will help to have the backing of the king when we go see him. After today, Boris will be the King of Portwein, and we can use him to set up a meeting with the necromancer,” Grizzle responded. “Grundel, have you talked to Boris yet today?”

  “No, I haven’t. I have been looking for Jerrie. I didn’t see him all day yesterday. Rundo hasn’t seen him either. Rundo is asking around to see if any of the soldiers have seen him,” Grundel explained.

  “He is from a city. He is probably just taking advantage of being somewhere familiar again. He has been cooped up in our mountains for quite a while. It took your mom a long time to get used to it. Now that she’s back in a city again, Bordin knows how I am ever going to get her back in Evermount,” Grizzle said.

  “That’s what I thought at first, but he didn’t go back to his room and no one has heard from him. He hasn’t been the same since he hit his head. Something just doesn’t seem right,” Grundel explained.

  Grizzle grabbed his son’s arm. “If it doesn’t seem right, then there is probably a reason. I’ll send some dwarves through the city to see if they can find out where he is. For now, we need to be around for the events of today. I have sent most of the army back to Tiefes Loch with Frau. Once we talk with this necromancer, we will figure out what we need to do to get rid of the Bergmann Phantom. Right now, let’s focus on Boris.”

  ***