The Halls of the Fallen King

by Tiger Hebert

  “Don’t look at me! I’m just as confused about all this as you are.”

  Dominar laughed. “Aneri’On was indeed flesh and bone, but he was so much more. He carried the Father’s life force in him. It is how he still lives.”

  “Do you think he’s coming back?”

  Everyone’s eyes shifted to Theros, the last one to have seen Aneri’On, even if only in a vision.

  Theros met their eyes.

  “The old orc religions are dead and have been for some time. I don’t know much about gods and spirits, so I cannot say what happened to Aneri’On. Perhaps it is his spirit that lives on, but I do know some part of him is still alive, in some way.”

  Dominar scratched at his chin. “The writings in the Gorn Tor Elbath told us that even in his death, he would lead us. Perhaps it is through dreams and visions, like the ones Theros has already experienced, perhaps in other ways too. The ancient texts taught us a lot, but there is a great deal unfolding before our very eyes that will change our world. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something tells me that we are on the verge of uncovering a great deal of secrets on this journey—far more than just what happened to the late King Duroc.”

  Theros mulled over his friend’s words. The late King Duroc. If only you knew, Dom, if only you knew. Many secrets, indeed.

  Kiriana said, “You know what gets me even more excited than ancient secrets and cosmic mysteries? Breakfast! That’s what. So can we make that happen?”

  Nal’drin shot her a protesting glare as he lowered the kettle of stew down over the flames. “Coming right up, your highness.”

  Kiriana had a perplexed look, but it quickly faded. “Oh, that’s right, you’re the royalty around here.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he protested.

  “Relax!” she said before giving him a playful shove. “I’m just messing with you.”

  “Kids,” muttered Dom.

  Sharka pulled her pack close to the campfire, and sat down, using it as a seat. Once she was happy with her newfound comfort, she picked up a nearby stick and began poking the fire. “Speaking of kids, how are you doing, Dom?”

  Dom looked up and gave Sharka a warm smile.

  “I miss ‘em ,and quite frankly, I’m ready to get back to ‘em, but we’ve got a mission to accomplish here.”

  After he answered her question, Dom looked at his companions around the camp. Nal’drin and Kiriana sat on the other side of the campfire, playing some strange game that they called tiles, or knuckles, or something, Dominar wasn’t quite sure. Theros fiddled about with his supplies and his pack, and Sharka couldn’t take her eyes off the big guy. Dom tried to take it all in, because this would be his last adventure.

  Sharka’s gaze lingered on Theros a moment longer before returning to Dominar. “What’s it like... having children?”

  Deep lines formed on the elder dwarf’s face and he tugged on the coarse gray hairs of his beard.

  “Raising children is...” said Dom, with a long pause, “it’s more or less the scariest, most difficult, most unappreciated, head scratching, hair pulling, foot stomping, fist pounding, red-faced madness that a man and woman could ever conceive, and its rewards outweigh it all. More or less.”

  “Scariest? What’s scarier than facing a dragon?” asked Sharka.

  “Raising one!” said Dom as he slapped his own knee.

  Sharka laughed. “It sounds terrible.”

  Dominar looked from Sharka to the unsuspecting Theros and back, and in a low voice he said, “It is, you need to try it someday.”

  With that the old dwarf winked at her and got up from his seat. Sharka shifted her gaze to Theros. She watched as he still fought with his repacking efforts. She chuckled quietly, then she got up and moved to his side, smiling. It was the only place she ever wanted to be.

  KIRIANA STRETCHED HER arms skyward and let out a big yawn.

  “You better cut that out missy! It’s contagious,” said Dom with a finger wag.

  “No it’s n—”

  Dom said, “If you don’t stop, you’ll have the lot of us ready for a nap.”

  Coming to her defense, Nal’drin said, “Leave the poor girl al—”

  “See!” said Dominar. “Now cut it out.”

  Kiriana giggled and said, “After that stew a nap doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “We just woke up,” bristled Dominar.

  “And it’s time we get moving,” said Theros. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today, especially if we are to stay ahead of the goblins.”

  “I don’t get the whole goblin thing,” admitted Nal’drin.

  “What don’t you get?” asked Theros.

  Nal’drin stuffed the empty kettle into one of the packs and cinched it closed. “Okay, so goblins are bad guys.”

  “Nothing gets past you,” quipped Kiriana.

  Ignoring her remark, Nal’drin continued. “They want to find the source of this magical power so they can keep it for themselves. I get it, bad guys getting their hands on a really powerful source of magic would be really bad. But the goblins have been searching for it for a while now. What makes us think that us rushing down here now will make any difference?”

  “Are you saying you think they already have it?” asked Sharka.

  “Um, no, not really. I mean, I guess that is entirely possible. I was more leaning towards the fact that the goblins have been here, they’ve searched the ruins, and they haven’t found anything yet.”

  “So you are saying that they are incompetent,” said Theros.

  “Well, that too, or that maybe it’s not actually something that they could find.”

  Dom tugged on his beard. “How do you mean?”

  “Well, I don’t know much about the magics, but what if it isn’t a tangible thing?”

  Theros crossed his arms. “Okay, I’ll play along. So if that were the case, what about the Elder Stones?”

  Nal’drin shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe they aren’t really stones at all. I’m just saying that we should take our time. It won’t do us any good to rush into this thing haphazardly when there are still so many unknowns. We don’t even know where the hell we’re going yet, and for all our efforts, we could get lost down here.”

  “Dominar is the smartest dwarf I’ve ever met, and as long as he is with us, we won’t get lost,” said Kiriana.

  Dom replied, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, my dear, but I’m the only one you’ve met, and in truth I know little of this place.”

  Kiriana mumbled, “Still makes you the smartest...”

  Theros’ deep voice filled the cavern. “Nal’drin, you are right. Without knowing the lay of the land down here, it is hard telling how much farther we need to go. We will need to make steady progress, but we can’t just throw caution to the wind either. Another thing that you mentioned has stirred my curiosity... With all the goblin activity that has happened here recently, it is surprising that the only ones we’ve encountered were above ground.”

  “Maybe we haven’t gotten deep enough yet,” said Kiriana.

  “That’s not it,” said Theros.

  “How would we know?” asked Nal’drin.

  “Their stench isn’t down here.”

  Nal’drin rolled his eyes. “Their stench?”

  “They’re like anima—”

  “Really? After the way that humans treated your people, you’re going to do the same thing to goblins?” interrupted Nal’drin.

  “It’s their glands! They secrete an oil that gives off a bitter scent. It’s how they literally mark their territory, just like animals,” said Sharka.

  “Huh...” replied Nal’drin with a nod and a shrug. “Well, alright then.”

  “Uh-hum!” said Kiriana as she gave a head nod toward Theros.

  Nal’drin cleared his throat. “Um, my bad.”

  Theros’ scowl held fast. He grunted, and then walked away from the group, and out into the adjacent hallway.

  Sheepishly, Nal’drin sho
uted, “Where to next, big guy?”

  The orc grunted, turned, and walked out of sight. The women hurried to sling their packs over their shoulders and follow him. Dominar turned to Nal’drin and offered a weak half smile.

  “Sometimes less is more my boy. Sometimes, less is more.”

  Dom patted him on the shoulder, then he turned to follow the others. Nal’drin shouldered his pack. He fiddled with his belt for a moment before cinching it a notch tighter, and then he took a deep breath.

  “Less is more, dummy.”

  8

  Hunted

  The second aspect of the Elder Stones is ironically, somewhat contrary to the first aspect. While the first aspect, the gatekeeper, was cleverly designed to severely limit the power of the magics when amplified by the stones. The second aspect was designed to enhance, or empower us in the use of the magics by accelerating time as it relates to the tide cycles. A Seraphim using an Elder Stone will find that they are able to draw upon the magics more frequently, because of these accelerated cycles. There are other variables to factor in, but we have seen tide cycles shortened to a third of their duration, sometimes even shorter. We came to name this aspect, the eternal flow...

  War in the Heavens, Jazren of the Seraphim Order

  SHARKA MADE HER WAY into the next room, leaving her companions to follow. As a warrior, her gaze first scanned the room for any possible threats. Then she scanned for possible exits and choke points throughout the large room. After spending her whole life trading blades, this was second nature. The room itself was rectangular and spanned a good distance, she guessed fifty yards or so. Both sides of the hall had eight individual alcoves formed into the walls, then in those alcoves stood stout little statues of dwarven figures. After their first encounter with statues, the woman shifted uneasily. Then she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized the statues were simply busts. There were no arms, legs, or weapons on these guys.

  What harm could they possibly do? These men must have been great warriors, but where are the women?

  She shrugged. Her friends started to file into the room, but she had already made her way over to one of the nearby statues that piqued her interest. This particular sculpture was that of a rugged and rather homely dwarf. His hair was long, but like his beard it was bushy and unkempt. His features were unremarkable, being generally flat and broad. She half wondered if the man whose likeness it represented might have been hit in the face with a shovel one too many times.

  “What is it about you that intrigues me so?” asked Sharka aloud. “You’re ugly, even among dwarves. What are you hiding? Hmmm. Your eyes, they are—different.” She looked down below the bust to the engraved placard that was mounted upon the pedestal. To her surprise, the words were written not in the dwarven tongue, but rather in the common language. The placard read:

  The first lord of Dar Mar’Kren and the Dwarven Kingdoms of the West, Torgrin Stonebrow.

  Sharka stood there as Dominar came up to stand beside her. Without reading the engraving, he said, “Ahh, you’ve found Duroc’s father. He was the ruler of my people once, ya know, back before King Dorn.”

  Dom’s voice grew soft at his last remark and he rubbed the signet ring that he wore. He fell silent for a long moment, his breaths slow and measured. Sharka turned to watch him wipe his eyes and walk away. She didn’t know all the details, but she knew that King Dorn and many of Dominar’s friends died in the Dragon’s assault on Dar Mar’Kren. Sharka understood grief. They were all coping with it, and right now she didn’t want to deal with it. There’d be time for tears later. She suppressed her own emotions again, forcing the tidal wave of grief and despair down into a pit somewhere, somewhere deep.

  With renewed focus, she turned to the elaborate structure around them. She found the architecture of Duroc’s Refuge fascinating. It was unlike anything she had seen before. Sure the stonework of Storm Vale was impressive, but it just didn’t compare to the work of the dwarven builders. What the humans built, they built well, serving in both form and function. The work of their hands was practical, producing effective defensive fortifications as well as other architecture. It came in many forms ranging from bulwarks and buildings to great stone bridges. And yes, it was true that the crown that sat atop the mountains’ lofty brow, the king’s palace, was indeed a gem. But down here, it seemed like every brick, every stone was a work of art in and of itself, yet in some strange way was still a tiny, almost insignificant piece of the whole mosaic. The fact that an artisan might have spent days perfecting each individual hand carved block, only for it to go unnoticed in this sea of stone, filled a part of her with sadness. It made her feel small.

  I see your work, artisan, I see the beauty. It is not lost on me, she thought. The way that dwarves manipulated stone...

  Then the unmistakably violent warble of a goraung shattered the silence. The blasts of the war horn echoed through those stone halls, and terror was sure to be close behind.

  “Goblins!” cried Sharka.

  More blasts of the horn rang out. Goblins were coming, and they were coming fast. The five scrambled through the halls of the underground keep. They tried to get further and further away from the awful sound of their pursuers, but they couldn’t.

  “What do you think, how many?” asked Nal’drin.

  “Usually twenty to a swarm,” replied Theros.

  Kiriana added, “If we could be so lucky.”

  “I can’t outrun them,” said Dominar as he fought to catch his breath.

  The other four stopped and watched as the old dwarf doubled over, his head hung low and his hands upon his knees.

  “He’s right,” admitted Kiriana.“We either find a place to hide or we take our chances in battle.”

  “Look, a way-stone!” shouted Sharka, as she pointed to the next room.

  Nal’drin barked, “Who the hell cares about way-stones? We are being hunted!”

  Sharka, in rare form, spoke with authority, “We are not being hunted, the goblins are not here for us—”

  Understanding her, Kiriana finished her thought. “They are here for the source of the energy. We just need to get out of their way.”

  Now they were all on the same page, so it was time to act.

  “The way-stone says that way,” said Sharka as she pointed to the cavernous room in the distance to the right. “So we go here instead.”

  The orc warrior led her companions through a series of corridors that took them in the opposite direction. The corridors were lined with a network of interconnecting rooms of various shapes and sizes. So there they waited in the torch-lit room, as they listened to the goblin horde surge through the stone maze. Their howls and cackles sounded like the cries of sickly and wounded creatures, and it seemed to reverberate through all of Duroc’s Refuge. The five tried to calm their breathing as they listened. Soon the haunting echoes of the goblin war party had passed. For the moment, they were safe.

  “That was way too close,” said Kiriana between breaths.

  “It’s a good thing those morons use those horns,” added Nal’drin.

  “No kidding, you wouldn’t think that they’d want to announce their presence to the entire damned mountain,” said Sharka.

  “No one ever accused them of being very bright,” said Theros as he put out a hand to lean on a nearby shelf.

  Most of the things in this underground world were made of stone, but the shelf wasn’t. The wooden shelf broke under his weight. The thin planks of wood snapped, sending half a dozen ceramic mugs crashing to the floor. One by one, the mugs were smashed.

  “Whoops.”

  In the chaos of the moment, they were not immediately aware of it, but upon further inspection of their surroundings, they came to realize that they were in one of the city’s storehouses. It was many a day since any food that was still suitable to eat remained here, but it was without a doubt a grand pantry. They still didn’t have much of a grasp for the size of the ruins yet, so there could have been a dozen more like it,
but it was quite large. The dank and musty feel and taste of the rooms would have turned off many adventurers’ appetite, but after several days of traveling through the dusty kingdom, they were starting to become acclimated.

  “Ah, the luck. To be in the King’s kitchen, and naught to eat. I’m so hungry and thirsty. What a shame,” grumbled Dominar as his belly growled in agreement.

  “Dom, it’s only been a few hours since breakfast,” said Sharka.

  “Exactly!” replied Dom.

  The group quietly wandered out of their hiding place into the large adjacent room, only to find themselves indeed in the kitchen. It was a massive room. Thick layers of dust and grime were caked upon all the pots and pans that were left behind, but the sheer size of the place was quite astonishing. It was one of the largest rooms they had found so far. It had over a dozen stone fireplaces and countless racks of cookware.

  “You know, it’s probably a good thing that these shelves are barren,” interjected Nal’drin. “Imagine the aroma when the food was still decomposing.”

  Kiriana groaned at the thought of rotting food, and she covered her nose and mouth as if she could actually smell it now. The food was long gone though, leaving a powdery substance behind littered with mold and mushrooms that offered a distinct smell of their own. It was better than the alternative, though, and they knew it.

  Dominar looked across the room and spotted two doorways, one on each side, that extended into more darkness. He said, “That must be the dining hall out there.”

  “Let’s not lose focus,” warned Theros’ deep voice.

  “What’s that?” asked Dominar. “I can barely hear you over the noise of my stomach and the running wat—.”

  He paused, realizing what he was saying. Everyone remained silent and listened. Sure enough, the subtle sound of running water entered all their consciousnesses.

  “Ah, yes! It’s a kitchen after all. Of course there is water nearby!” shouted the wide-eyed dwarf with excitement. “Let’s find it.”