Dragonvein

by Brian D. Anderson

  “I swear that I’m not lying about who I am,” said Ethan. “Once the kings sees that, we’ll both be out of trouble.”

  “Actually, the more I think about it, the more I hope you are lying. Because if you’re not…” Birger shook his head and heaved a sigh. “Well, it’s too late for that now. Keep to the ground floor…and do not leave this house under any circumstances.”

  After he had gone, they each took a room. The beds were built for someone of dwarf height and the mattresses were rock hard, but it was still better than a cold floor. Other than a chest and dresser, there was little else furnishing the bedrooms. The kitchen was spacious though, with a sturdy dining table opposite a cast iron stove. Beyond that was the bathroom. Ethan was amazed at how similar it was to those back on Earth. The oval tub in the far corner was equipped with a brass shower head that came down from the ceiling. Two chains hung on either side to control the temperature of the water, and a valve at the head of the tub controlled the flow.

  Markus seemed unusually pleased by the sight of this. In fact, Ethan could swear he saw tears forming in his friend’s eyes. “I haven’t seen a shower since I left England,” he explained. “Only the very rich can afford such luxuries in Lumnia.”

  “Then you can go first,” said Ethan.

  Markus smiled excitedly. “I will.” For a moment there was something uncharacteristically boyish about him.

  Not long after they were clean and changed, a dwarf woman brought them a tray of fruits, together with bread and a pitcher of sweet smelling blue liquid. They thanked her, even though she did not so much as acknowledge their presence while in the house.

  “No meat,” complained Markus, after she had left.

  “If memory serves me right, dwarves are vegetarians,” said Jonas. “It’s the one thing Lord Dragonvein did not enjoy about his visits.”

  “As long as it tastes better than mora fruit,” said Ethan.

  In fact, he found the food to be quite good. Though the fruits were unfamiliar, they were sweet tasting and satisfying. The bread was freshly baked, and the blue liquid reminded him a bit of lemonade, though not quite as tart.

  “Three days,” muttered Markus. “Three days and our fate is decided.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me that might help?” Ethan asked Jonas, who was clearing the table.

  “Not that I can think of,” he replied. “Your father spoke often of the dwarves, but our conversations were limited to superficial topics. He never talked about his business here. He was a very private man…even with me.”

  “When the time comes, just tell the truth,” said Markus. “It’s what you’re best at anyway. If this king is worth a damn he’ll know you’re not lying.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “And if he’s not?”

  “Then we’re all dead and the rest won’t matter.”

  Time passed slowly in the house. Without the sun it was impossible to tell night from day. Markus tried to gauge it by looking out of the window to see if people were about, figuring that this would be mostly during the daytime hours.

  Ethan spent the majority of the time in his room, staring at the ceiling and going over and over in his mind how he had come to be where he was. One day he was fighting the Nazi’s, the next he was being hunted by an evil - and apparently immortal - emperor. He had gone from being the adopted son of a Brooklyn baker, to the son of a dead mage from another world. Of all the ways his life could have turned out, this was one he could have never imagined in a million years.

  The others didn’t seem to mind their time in the house, though occasionally he would catch Markus running his fingers over the scars on his face, a faraway look in his eyes. Seeing this racked Ethan with guilt. If only he could undo what had happened to his dear friend. But he couldn’t. At this point, all he could do was try to make things better in the here and now. That would need to begin by convincing the king he was who he claimed, and keeping them all from being executed.

  Birger came by from time to time. With each visit the dwarf seemed a bit friendlier and more accepting of human company, even letting loose the odd laugh here and there. He told them that Kat was in a house not far away and was being well attended. He even suggested that, due to the fact that she was little more than a child, should things go poorly for the others, she would likely be spared. However, Birger’s gradual acceptance did not extend to the other dwarf men and women who brought them their food. Each one still looked upon them with suspicion and malice, refusing to so much as utter a single word in their presence.

  The day Ethan was due to see the king, the tension in the house was palpable. Ethan hardly touched his breakfast, while Jonas did nothing but pace about the parlor, staring at the door. Only Markus seemed at ease.

  “Don’t worry,” he told Ethan. “Birger said that this King Halvar is a reasonable sort.”

  Ethan forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

  A few minutes later Birger arrived with half a dozen armed guards at his back.

  “It’s time,” he said.

  Ethan gave a sharp nod and followed him out of the room, casting a wink and a smile over his shoulder as he did so.

  He was escorted through the streets until they were in front of the massive manor he had seen previously. Marble statues inlaid with gemstones and gold were placed at regular intervals along the colonnade which led from the main avenue to the front steps. Considering that they were underground, the gardens surrounding the building appeared surprisingly green and alive. However, after looking closely, Ethan could see that what he at first had taken to be grass, was in fact a thick moss.

  The manor itself was five stories high and constructed from a dark green stone. The top floor balcony was crowded with dwarves gathered to watch their approach. They whispered and pointed, their faces awash with suspicion. The main double doors below were made from dark oak; the one on the left had a sun carved in it, the one on the right a moon.

  Just as they reached the bottom of the steps, two dwarves dressed in ruffled blue shirts and black pants exited the manor.

  “Is this the one who claims to be a Dragonvein?” asked the dwarf on the right.

  “He is,” Birger affirmed. “And he is expected.”

  “As are you Birger.” His voice bore sinister intent.

  Birger grumbled a curse and cast a sideways glance at Ethan. “You had better be who you say you are.”

  Before Ethan could reply, they started up the steps. On reaching the top, their escorts bowed and lined up three by three on either side of the front doors. The two others gestured for Ethan to enter.

  “The king awaits,” he was told.

  Beyond the threshold was a large receiving hall supported by a series of black columns. The polished white marble floors gleamed from the light of a dozen crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The walls were covered in beautiful tapestries and paintings depicting stars and various other celestial bodies – a theme that Ethan had noticed was quite common here.

  To his left was a spiral staircase leading to the upper floors, and to his right a series of hallways and silver doors. He was taken to the back of the hall where a set of double doors were swung wide open, revealing a room nearly as spacious as the receiving hall itself.

  In the center of this room was an immense gray stone table, around which six dwarf men and six women were sat. They were clad in simple yet well-made attire, and were all groomed to perfection. Ethan thought they were probably the ruling class; they certainly had a stately appearance about them. The dwarf seated at the head of the table was clad in a black shirt and vest with a gold robe wrapped around his broad shoulders. A thin circlet of silver with a single ruby set in the center rested atop his weathered brow. His black beard was striped with the grey of many years, and his eyes were deeply set and impossible to read.

  This has to be King Halvar, thought Ethan.

  The door boomed shut behind him.

  “So this is the one who calls himself Dragonvein,”
remarked the king.

  Ethan bowed. “I…”

  The king’s hand shot up to silence him. “You have not been addressed.” His voice was deep and menacing.

  Ethan’s mouth snapped shut.

  “Why did you bring him here, Birger?” asked the king. “Are you not aware of our laws?”

  “I am aware, my king,” he replied calmly. “I only did what I thought to be right.”

  Halvar snorted. “And you thought bringing a human…no…four humans to our city was the right thing?”

  “This one is the son of Praxis Dragonvein,” he explained. “The others are his companions.”

  “And how do you know this?” challenged Halvar.

  “I overheard him speaking when they were fleeing the Rakasa.”

  “So all this is based on something you overheard? What kind of fool are you, Birger?” The king’s tone was hard and unyielding. “I also hear you collapsed the west entrance. Is that true?”

  Birger nodded. “If I hadn’t, the humans would now be in the hands of the Emperor.”

  “And why should I care?”

  “Because we swore an oath to this man’s father. And we all know the prophecy.”

  At the mention of this, the other dwarves began whispering to one another. A movement of the king’s hand silenced them.

  “You expect me to honor an oath made to a human mage hundreds of years before I was born?”

  Birger stuck out his chest and gazed resolutely at his monarch. “Since when does the oath of a dwarf expire? Since when do we forget the honor of our forefathers? Is not a promise given a promise kept, regardless of time?”

  The king gave no reply, but his anger was obvious.

  “How do we know that this is really the son of Praxis Dragonvein?” asked a dwarf woman seated just to Halvar’s right. “All we have is a conversation you overheard. Surely that is not enough to put our people in such danger?”

  “The Rakasa called him Dragonvein as well,” said Birger.

  The woman leaned back and looked to Halvar. “If Shinzan believes him to be the son of Praxis Dragonvein, then I must agree that Birger acted rightly. As impossible as the claim may appear, we should hear what this human has to say.”

  The assembly nodded.

  “Very well,” growled the king. He pointed to a chair directly opposite him. “Sit, human. We will hear your story. But be warned, should you be found false, you and your friends will never leave Elyfoss alive.”

  Ethan bowed, then took a seat.

  “You can go, Birger,” said the king, waving a hand dismissively. “You are guiltless here.”

  “With your permission, my king,” he said, “I would stay.”

  After a short pause, Halvar nodded his consent. Birger sat down on Ethan’s right and glanced very briefly in his direction. Ethan thought he could detect a hint of encouragement in the look.

  The stage was now set. He began telling his tale, starting with his childhood in New York and ending when they first met Birger. The dwarves stopped him every so often to ask for more details, particularly when he spoke about Earth or the dragons. By the time he was done, several hours had passed and his back was aching from sitting in the hard chair.

  The king regarded him for an uncomfortably long moment before speaking. “I for one am still not convinced. It is indeed possible that you are from Earth, but I do not believe you are the son of Praxis Dragonvein.”

  “I’m telling you the truth, Your Highness,” Ethan insisted.

  “I believe him,” added Birger. “Who would manufacture such a wild tale?”

  “Someone desperate to evade capture,” said Halvar. “Someone who would take advantage of our customs and legends to further their own ends.”

  Several of the assembly nodded in agreement, but others shook their heads. The king raised his hand.

  “Your story was well thought, young human,” he said. “And it is clear you have convinced some of my more gullible brothers and sisters.” A wry grin crept over his face. “Fortunately, there is a way to tell if what you say is true.”

  Halvar beckoned over a guard who was standing near the door and whispered into his ear. The dwarf saluted and then hurried away, returning a few minutes later with a small wooden box. From this, Halvar removed a silver circlet.

  “No!” barked Birger. “You can’t.”

  The king shot him a warning look. “You speak out of turn, Birger. Your advice is not required. Nor is your presence if you cannot remain quiet.”

  Birger lowered his eyes. “Forgive me, my king. But that was not made to be used on humans. There is no way to know what it could do to him.”

  Several of those gathered echoed Birger’s concerns, but the king would not be moved.

  “Human,” he began. “I have in my hand a device that when placed upon your head will cause you pain should you speak falsely. Birger is correct in saying that it was not designed to be used on your kind, and I am not entirely certain of the risks. But should you pass this test, I will need no other proof that you are telling the truth.” He leaned in. “So, I offer you this choice: Leave here at once. You will be escorted from the mountain and set free to do as you will. No harm will come to you. Or you can place this on your head and answer our questions.”

  “You should go,” said Birger.

  “Do you believe I’m telling the truth?” Ethan asked him.

  He gave a lengthy sigh and then nodded. “I believe you.”

  Ethan smiled. “Then I will take the test.”

  The king rose from his seat and carried the circlet over to Ethan. “The moment you put this on you must tell the truth. For a dwarf, lying results in excruciating pain. But for you…” He shrugged. “Who knows? It was used on an elf once.”

  “What happened?” Ethan asked.

  “He died,” replied Halvar. “But not before he was driven completely mad.”

  He returned to his seat. All eyes were now on Ethan.

  Taking a deep breath, he placed the circlet on his head. At first he felt nothing. Then, gradually, the metal became warm and a light tingle shot through his body.

  Halvar nodded to the others. “Ask your questions.”

  One by one they interrogated Ethan. Mostly they asked him to enlarge on details of his story, though some presented questions of a more personal nature. When it came back around to the king, his face was twisted in frustration.

  By contrast, Birger looked smug and satisfied. “There can be no doubt,” he said. “He is the son of Praxis Dragonvein.”

  “What is clear, is that he believes himself to be,” Halvar corrected. “I am still not completely satisfied. We will question his friends as well. Particularly the one named Jonas. However, as this young human came to us in good faith, his life will be spared, regardless of the outcome.”

  “And what about my friends?” asked Ethan.

  “Their fate is in their own hands,” replied Halvar. “In the meantime, consider yourself my guest. You will be given a room here in my palace. And Birger will attend you.”

  Birger scowled. “But, my king. I’ve work to do. I have no time to…”

  “You had the time to rescue this human,” he retorted. “And you had the time to bring him all the way here. I will send word to your foreman. Considering the circumstances, I’m certain that he will understand.”

  Birger bowed. “As you wish, my king.”

  Ethan tried to suppress a smile. He was happy that Birger would be nearby. He had grown to like the dwarf and was grateful to him for his support.

  “If you would now excuse us,” Halvar continued. “The council and I have private matters to discuss.”

  Ethan rose and bowed, then followed Birger from the room. The dwarf quickly found a servant and instructed him to prepare a room for Ethan. After a brief hesitation and a sour look, the servant obeyed.

  Birger then led him up the spiral staircase and down a long hall to a sitting room. The décor was elegant – much like that of the house he
had previously been staying in, with more paintings and etchings of otherworldly places, along with marble busts of stern, powerful looking dwarves.

  They sat down in a pair of chairs at the far end. Birger appeared most unhappy and was muttering curses under his breath.

  “I’m sorry you’ve been forced to do this,” said Ethan.

  He shrugged and leaned back. “I should have expected it. King Halvar does not like being proved wrong. This is just his way of letting me know it.”

  “What will happen to you if you’re not at work?”

  “Nothing,” he replied. “But I will be leaving my friends shorthanded.”

  “What is it you mine for?”

  “Rajni stones mostly. But sometimes we find gems and precious metals.”

  “And you trade them to the Empire?”

  Birger shook his head. “We trade what we make with them.”

  “Weapons,” muttered Ethan.

  “Don’t think we do it because we want to,” snapped Birger, now on the defensive. “It’s the only thing that keeps Shinzan from wiping us out completely. As it stands, we have to trade gold and gems with human smugglers simply to get enough food to eat. In case you didn’t notice, there is no sunlight here. And without that, plants won’t grow. Our only other choice is to live off tunnel rats and mora fruit. Personally, I’d rather die.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it,” said Ethan. “It’s just that all this is new to me.”

  Birger held up his hand. “No need to apologize. It’s not your fault. My people have allowed this to go on for far too long. The truth is, when I heard the Rakasa shout out your name, I dared to let myself hope. That’s the main reason why I saved you.”

  “Hope for what?”

  “Hope that your coming heralds the end to Shinzan’s reign. Hope that my people can once again feel the sun on our faces and the wind in our hair.”

  “Are you saying that you used to live on the surface?”

  “No. Well, a few did, though most of us have always dwelled in the mountains. But we also possessed vast stretches of rich farmland and bountiful orchards. Some dwarves would choose a life of farming to provide our people with the food we needed. And it was our pleasure to leave our mountain homes from time to time and spend our days in the sun and our nights gazing at the stars. We love the deep places of Lumnia. But we also love the freedom of being able to visit what lies beyond occasionally.”