ALFRED
And the
Underworld
By Ron Smorynski
VOLUME Two
of
Alfred the Boy King
“Alfred the Boy King” Volume Series
Text Copyright
First Edition 2017
Edited by Tammi Smorynski & Larry Haise
Cover Art: Kim Herbst
Fonts
Title: Font Monger, Chapters: Elementary Gothic Bookhand by Bill Roach
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the author... unless it's for a cool review!
This is a work of fiction. It is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to real or imagined people, properties or ideas is purely coincidental... for the most part.
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Book Series
Alfred the Boy King, Volume One: The Boy Who Would Be King
Alfred the Boy King, Volume Two: Alfred & The Underworld
Alfred the Boy King, Volume Three: Alfred & The Quest Knights
Volume Four....
Table of Contents
Book One
Chapter One: A Mother's Love
Chapter Two: The Under Realms!
Chapter Three: Woes of a Mother
Chapter Four: A Conversation
Chapter Five: A Conversation with a Wizard
Chapter Six: A Mother's Loveliness
Chapter Seven: Moments Are a Lifetime
Chapter Eight: Tales to Tell
Chapter Nine: Grotham Keep
Chapter Ten: The Haunted Past
Chapter Eleven: To Keep a Keep
Chapter Twelve: Knights and Plots
Chapter Thirteen: Hedor and the Men
Chapter Fourteen: The Return of the Children
Chapter Fifteen: The Underworld
Chapter Sixteen: Gorham's Task
Chapter Seventeen: Many Tasks at Hand
Chapter Eighteen: The Secret of Steel
Chapter Nineteen: Exploring the Underworld
Chapter Twenty: The Sanctuary
Chapter Twenty-One: The Magistrate
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Ambassador
Chapter Twenty-Three: Nubio the Slave
Chapter Twenty-Four: The Plot Thickens
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Duty of Heroes
Chapter Twenty-Six: A Desperate Mother
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Arise! Assassins Are Among Us!
Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Attack Is Upon Us
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Arise We Are Under Attack??
Chapter Thirty: Gorham's Struggle
Chapter Thirty-One: Verboden Meets the Ogres
Chapter Thirty-Two: The Failure of Knights
Chapter Thirty-Three: When Ogres Attack
Book Two
Chapter Thirty-Four: A Mouse
Chapter Thirty-Five: OGRES!!!
Chapter Thirty-Six: The Massacre
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Flight
Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Way Is Sealed
Chapter Thirty-Nine: The First Encounter
Chapter Forty: Refuge
Chapter Forty-One: The Return of the Wizard
Chapter Forty-Two: The Gnomes
Chapter Forty-Three: The City of the Gnomes
Chapter Forty-Four: The Artofessor
Chapter Forty-Five: The Escape
Chapter Forty-Six: Slavery
Chapter Forty-Seven: The Cave at the End of the Underworld
Chapter Forty-Eight: Repose in the Underworld
Chapter Forty-Nine: Rescuing Those Who Need Rescuing
Chapter Fifty: The Light of Day
Chapter Fifty-One: An Underworld Alliance
Chapter Fifty-Two: The Army of the North
Chapter Fifty-Three: Winter Solace
Chapter Fifty-Four: A Mother's Calling
Chapter Fifty-Five: The Gathering of Evil
Chapter Fifty-Six: Battle in the Mines
Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Plan According to Alfred
Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Queen
Chapter Fifty-Nine: Battle of the Beasts
Chapter Sixty: Preparing for the Final Battle
Chapter Sixty-One: Battle of Grotham Keep
Chapter Sixty-Two: The Long Way Home
Chapter Sixty-Three: A Mother's Hope
Book One
Chapter One: A Mother's Love
Alfred ran up the stairs to catch up to his mother. She was trying to open their apartment door while holding grocery bags. Alfred pulled the door open and rushed past her. She knew his thoughts were not like the ordinary boys of this world, with hanging out and talking about the newest video games. His thoughts were of death and destruction, fear and terror. She fled that world to save him but he had been lured back, trapped by his concern for the struggles of a dying land.
“Alfred?”
He had already gotten to his bedroom door and closed it.
She emptied the bag of fresh vegetables, a mix of different kinds, bought at a local farmer's market. The people with their small tents and tables reminded her of a fairer time in that distant land, before its terrible fall. She did not know why she had fond memories of that realm and was still drawn to it.
She had thought about this earlier when she was shopping. The market was setup in a church parking lot. The pastor and church members saw her there every week. They would smile at her and ask her to visit. She always politely declined. In her heart she did not understand why they held on to this goodness, a kindness she saw defeated over and over. In the land of the Westfold, in the other realm far away, it seemed the Father of Light had abandoned her people long ago. She could not bear to think of it. All she could see now was men, full of folly and force.
She was adept at smiling politely and then slowly walking away as the church people attempted to have a conversation with her. She would quickly disappear into the crowd.
Today at the market, as always, she felt a sense of comfort nearing each farmer's table. She loved hearing their voices. They reminded her of the past.
“That's three dollars. Thank you. Hullo. Would you like a taste? It’s fresh from our fields this morning. It's all organic. We don't use pesticides.”
Words like organic and pesticide and gluten free were strange to her. Still, she smiled. She knew the feel of many of the vegetables: the tenderness of some, the firmness of carrots and potatoes, and the crispness of greens and reds. She loved the feel of gritty soil against the stalks and roots. Placing her purchases in her carry bags, she paid with coins and crumpled cash.
She did miss it. She knew she did. In many ways, it seemed like things were simpler in that land far away. Things were about sun up and sun down. Everyone worked and struggled and yet enjoyed their small portions of cooked meals and cool wines.
This new world had many great comforts. It was almost too comfortable. People moved too fast for her. She didn't hate it, but it was very strange and unsettling.
The chatter of women on phones often jolted her as she walked back from the market. The men crowded around each other to look at pictures or videos. Their laughter startled her as she passed. She would see them coming. Yet, in an instant, the volume of their chatter would suddenly explode, jolting her and causing a misstep.
Leaving the noisy market behind, she walked up her street to the small apartment building. Just then a flurry of police cars ra
ced past. Blaring of sirens and roaring engines stopped her. She leaned up against the wall with a cold sweat and a glazed look. People walked past, avoiding her.
The bags fell and vegetables rolled out. People in this world were busy. They didn’t want to get involved with a lady in distress. They stepped over her vegetables and kept going.
Except one, it seemed. He always seemed to have time.
She was leaning against the wall near the workshop of Wooly. He suddenly appeared, deftly grabbing up several potatoes before they rolled into the dirty gutters. He scooped up the fallen bags, gathering vegetables into them and grabbing her arm.
She flew along in his strong grip, gasping with bated and troubled breath. He got her inside the apartment building's small lobby, away from the loud noises and clatter of the street.
She leaned against Wooly, weak-kneed. He held her for a moment. She focused and saw his scarred face much too close. She was going to scream, but he looked away and stepped back, holding her groceries. Then she realized she was in the lobby to her apartment, a quiet place.
“Sorry, I saw you there... the noises, the fiery red sirens...”
“The fiery? Whah, oh...” She regained her breath and took the bags from him.
“Are you well?” he muttered. His guttural voice seemed to match the scars on his face.
“Yes, yes, I'm fine. Thank you. It must have been... I'm okay now. Thank you.”
He tried to clear his throat, but the harsh sound worsened. He tried to smile, but the scars hid it. He looked away before she saw too deeply in his eyes–to see moisture and memories. Then he left.
She was confused but after a few moments in the safety of the lobby, she calmed down. She smiled for a moment and then shook it off.
Back in the apartment, she went to knock on Alfred’s door. “Alfred?”
“Yeah mom?”
“Can we talk?”
The door suddenly burst open, startling her.
“Yeah?”
“Alfred... Alfred...” She touched him on the arm.
“You're worried,” he said.
That simple acknowledgment comforted her. She couldn't help but smile, with tears in her eyes.
“Yes, Alfred, that is it. I love you. I love you so much. And I am worried. I, we, your father and I, and even Tirnalth – we chose this life for you. We fled for you. A great magic was unleashed to help us, for you Alfred. It helped us escape a world fallen to darkness.”
It was difficult for her to speak. With each utterance, she weakened and leaned on Alfred. He was no taller than she, but she felt a man within him, a man she missed.
Alfred hugged her.
“Why don't you come back with me?” Alfred asked excitedly, “Could you? I can ask Tirnalth!”
His mother backed away. “No Alfred, no... I can't... no...”
“Why not? Dunther is okay. He's forgiven you.”
“No! No... not that... I haven't...”
“You what? Haven't what?” Alfred asked in earnest.
“Forgiven,” she said in a withdrawn whisper.
“You haven't forgiven him?”
“Myself,” she said, turning to Alfred with a sternly fixed gaze.
He had never seen such a look in her eyes. He looked away.
“Your father and I betrayed everyone we loved. In our love, we betrayed others. Your father paid with his life. I am here now – with you. Tirnalth saved us. Why he took you back, I do not understand.”
“To save the land from Gorbogal, your sister! You have got to tell me everything! How to defeat her!”
“Defeat her? Alfred... Great kings and lords and knights and Tirnalth, at his full power, could not defeat her! What makes you think a boy returning to a dead world shall defeat her?”
Alfred stepped back into his doorway, into his room.
As he retreated, she stared at him. Anger welled up within her and in the shadows. Darkness crept up from the kitchen and small living room where her sewing machine and boxes were. It oozed along the walls and around the doorway of Alfred's room.
“You can't stop me,” said Alfred, then closed his door.
Chapter Two: The Under Realms!
Alfred avoided his mother. She was angry that he believed he could save the Westfold, the magical land they came from. Dark shadows seemed to creep around them as they passed each other.
Alfred kept busy though, reading and studying medieval times and preparing for his next journey. There were plenty of times Alfred would set his books down, rub his eyes and watch wrestling on TV. He knew it was all pretend. He loved the silly bravado and physical entertainment. And it reminded him of the heroic men fighting big bad goblins and ratkins in the Westfold.
Watching wrestling also helped him relax and release some of the tension he felt. His mom came in and without a word plopped down a stew on a TV stand by his bed. Today, she set the plate down more loudly than usual. She then walked out, peering at him from the doorway as she closed it behind her – loudly. She seemed to be surrounded by fluttering shadows. Alfred shook his head to clear it. It was just the shadow flickering from the TV, he surmised.
Kids at school were talking about a new game. At first, Alfred had no interest. He was so busy studying medieval farming and politics and history. The kids just figured he was a nerdy bookworm and way too serious. He read all kinds of historical books and was able to convince just about every teacher to allow him to do reports and homework based on medieval history and technologies.
His computer ran quite well, thanks to Wooly. He would do plenty of research for each historical report he wrote. He would type up his reports and email them to one of the teachers, who would print it out at school. Several teachers would gather in the teacher's room, waiting as Alfred's next medieval report printed out. Each would take a copy to read, whether it was for their class or not.
One game he overheard the kids talking about interested him. After all, everybody needs a break from their kingly duties.
The new game was called The Under Realms. When Alfred heard the kids talk about it, it reminded him of the Grim Wars series, with goblins and monsters. However, there were aspects which were very different. Most computer games are about building up forces and skills to prepare to fight a specific enemy or following scripted quests where you encounter different enemies. This game was a new style of play called a “sandbox game.”
You played one person and saw the world through that one person's point of view. You would be that one character and maneuver around to pick up things, carry a sword and swing the sword at monsters. Everything appearing on the screen was from your character’s viewpoint.
They called it sandbox because, like a child playing around in a sandbox, instead of having to fight a specific enemy or go on a specific quest, you could do whatever you wanted. The world in a sandbox game was created with three dimensional blocks. These block could be dirt, stone, wood, water, clouds or any material item.
You could walk over any block, dig through dirt blocks, or jump onto any block. If it was a whole bunch of water blocks, it looked like a lake and you could swim through those blocks. If the grid was filled with stone and dirt blocks, you could walk on them like land. And if the stone and dirt blocks were patterned with various heights, it looked like blocks of mountains... literally.
Alfred found it to be a new and refreshing take on playing a computer game. Since the title of the game was The Under Realms, it was mainly about mining and exploring cavernous crypts. Alfred fell in love with journeying through passages in the blocks.
He began the game at the surface in what looked like a forest. He started with nothing: no missions, no story, no quests, no army, no peasants, no tools or weapons. He had to make his own tools. He hit wood blocks and collected them. As he collected these blocks, he clicked on the TAB button and a menu opened that showed him items that could be make with these blocks.
With a few wood blocks, he could make sticks. With a few stone blocks and the sticks,
he could make stone axes and hammers. With those tools he could build lumber and make chests and structures.
After creating a nice fortress home on the surface, he began mining. When you mine, you dig into the dirt and stone blocks to find metal ores. He could then take the metal ores and melt them down into metal blocks. He could then use these metal blocks to form strong pick axes, weapons, armour and many other things.
Well, Alfred really got into that. He loved digging down into the earth, hewing out corridors and finding cavernous realms. He also encountered scary monsters down there, dying many times because he wasn't prepared. He often got scared – which was really exciting.
He would be pick-axing a wonderful block of pure iron, and a cave troll would come up and squash him. Of course, when he died, he'd reappear up at the surface in his home and have to start from there. He would lose all the items he had with him down below. Bummer! Yet he still had everything that was left at the surface.
At his home in the forest, Alfred had made and collected many swords and pieces of armour. He also had stocks of metal and smithing items. He kept a good supply up top since not every trip to the mines to seek adventure in the Under Realms was successful. He had chests of items to use so he could return to the Under Realms quickly.
The game really got him interested in mining. He had never thought about mining since the last time he was in the Westfold. In the castle ruins he found ratkin spears and goblin bows to use. He started wondering how one must mine to get metal ores and then how those ores would be treated to make all the weapons and armour. He thought of how the goblins and ratkins fought with steal weapons. They must have miners who live in the Under Realms.
The game had lots of silly cube shaped goblins and monsters that he had to deal with on a regular basis. He thought about the real goblins in the Westfold and how they had so much armour and quality steel. They put them together crudely, lacking balance and design. Broggia and Boggin, the father and son blacksmiths, knew how to re-work, sharpen, and balance them as proper weapons and armour. But his smiths never got the ore, smelted it down, or refined it to steel. Why not? Could they? What if they could?
Alfred 2: And The Underworld (Alfred the Boy King) Page 1
