The Halls of the Fallen King

by Tiger Hebert

  “Well, we never raised hogs in Dar Mar’kren. All our pork was brought in by traders. So I can’t speak to the way that my cousins, the pig farmers, took care of their swine,” he said with a chuckle. “But I’ve not read or heard anything about the practice that was concerning my dear.”

  Nal’drin smiled as something occurred to him. “So the hog riders, they really existed?”

  Dom cracked a smile. “You know of the hog riders?”

  “I’ve read a book or two,” said Nal’drin.

  “Well, they were not the common boars that you are familiar with, but yes, the dwarves of the eastern kingdoms did indeed ride the mighty menjar into battle!” exclaimed Dom with pride.

  “What are menjar?” asked Nal’drin.

  “They are a particular breed of boars,” answered Theros.

  “How’d you know that?” Dom asked with a look of surprise.

  The corner of Theros’s mouth curled upward as the hint of a smile snuck by. “The dwarves aren’t the only ones that found the menjar... useful. Some orc clans in the old world also rode the beasts into battle. Who did it first? I don’t know.”

  “There are orcs in Antiri?” asked Nal’drin, as if the thought had never occurred to him before.

  “There were,” came Sharka’s solemn reply.

  Kiriana turned to Nal’drin and said, “Humans feared orcs. So naturally, they killed them.”

  Nal’drin shook his head with disappointment and muttered, “Stupid humans.”

  “Speaking of stupid, we will be stupid if we don’t make one more stop before we leave the merchant quarters,” said Theros.

  “Oh really, and what for?” asked Dominar.

  “We need wood for fire and for torches in the event that we find another patch of underground without the light from these crystals. There must be a sawmill or a lumberyard of some degree here,” guessed Theros.

  “For sure, and to be honest, I haven’t seen one yet, so it’s unlikely we’ve passed it,” said Dom.

  “We could just ransack one of these shops,” said Nal’drin. “I’m sure there will be plenty of furniture that we could smash up.”

  “Good point. If we don’t find something by the end of the district, that’ll work,” said the orc.

  At that point the chatter stopped and the silent march resumed. Nal’drin once again led the way over the intricately carved stones that the streets were paved with. They moved with a subtle urgency, stopping only long enough to restock wood at the lumberyard before continuing onward. Then they finally reached the grand tunnel that led them out of the merchant quarter. The tunnel was one of the few pieces of curved architecture that they had found thus far, and it was simply massive. It spanned nearly thirty yards across and about ten yards high at its tallest point. The tunnel also held something familiar, a trail of gem-filled runestones down the center of the street. The red gems that Nal’drin had anticipated, led them onward into the darkness ahead. They followed, and the time began to melt away.

  KIRIANA BROKE THE SILENCE. “Guys, the next right will lead us to water.”

  The other’s slowly turned, each of their questioning gazes falling upon her, wrinkled noses and furrowed brows highlighting their confusion and doubt.

  “How—” started Theros.

  “I can’t explain it... I just know that the water is that way,” said Kiriana as she pointed ahead to the right.

  “Nal’drin, take the next right,” ordered Theros without any further hesitation.

  “Okay, but there are no rights... or lefts,” he responded. His voice trailed off as a large opening on the right side of the tunnel suddenly came into view. “I’ll be damned.”

  As the crew turned into the corridor to their right, Dominar shot the boy a puzzled look. “Now why in blazes would you want to be damned?”

  “What? Oh, it’s just an expression,” said Nal’drin dismissively with a wave of the free hand that wasn’t carrying the torch.

  “It’s not an expression, nothing is just an expression, it’s an invitation,” corrected Dominar with a stern voice. “Every word you speak has power my boy, power to give life, and power to take it.”

  “I know it says stuff like that in the Gorn Tor Elbath, but don’t you think you’re taking it too literally?” asked the young king.

  “Nope,” said Dom with a straight face and a bit of a scowl. “It specifically warns us. It says, your lips carry the power of both blessings and curses, speak wisely, speak life. Seems fairly straightforward to me.”

  Nal’drin didn’t say anything. He simply nodded his head. It wasn’t a nod of agreement, but a nod of acknowledging what someone was saying. For Dom, that was good enough.

  Their conversation was brief and to the point, but it was long enough for Theros to move to the point position. He naturally preferred to lead the way, especially when he had no idea what he and his friends might run into. So he took his newly crafted torch, acquired from their raid on the lumberyard, and led the way down the gradually sloping hallway.

  “Yes,” said Kiriana, “It’s just a little further.”

  No sooner had she spoken than the sounds of running water had became audible. They could all hear the rushing sound, and with each step it grew louder. This was no simple stream or babbling brook, this had to be much larger.

  Much to Theros’s chagrin, Nal’drin and the women dashed down the tunnel, brushing aside all caution. The allure of potentially fresh water was too much to withstand. It had already been several days since had made camp in the hidden alcove near the dining hall. Their water supply was running low, and the need for cleaning was growing apparent. Besides, who wouldn’t want to refill their waterskins with fresh cold water?

  Theros was relieved to find that as his friends rushed into the room at the end of the tunnel, they were greeted only by mist and the accompanying sound of crashing water. They still couldn’t see much of anything; the cavern was simply too large and the light from their torches far too small.

  “Search for a brazier,” said Theros.

  “Over here,” hollered Dominar as he walked toward the edge of the shadow opposite Theros and Sharka.

  “What?” shouted Kiriana as she forced her voice above the water’s roar.

  “I found one,” hollered Dom.

  It was apparent that they still couldn’t hear him from that distance, so he walked back to them to retrieve one of the torches. He approached Nal’drin with an outstretched hand as he gestured for the torch. Nal’drin handed it over, and Dom hurried back the way he had come.

  As he gingerly walked toward the unlit brazier, he smiled at the thought of a bath. Despite living in the depths of the earth and often having filthy occupations like smithing and mining, the dwarves were not a dirty people, despite what most humans would have you think. Yes, it’s true that they were not afraid of getting dirty, but dwarves enjoyed their comforts a great deal, and to Dominar that meant being clean. He might not have been the most well-groomed dwarf; his beard was an unruly, even defiant bush of tangled scruff, but going days without a bath really got under Dom’s old wrinkled skin.

  The light of Dom’s torch illuminated the immediate area surrounding the large stone basin that held a thick flammable substance. He moved forward at a delicate pace, each step an attempt at avoiding further pain. Then, as he reached his destination, Dom stretched out and touched the gelatinous goo with the fiery end of the torch.

  Like all the braziers before, this one too came to life. The blue gel changed to a purple hue as flames overtook it. Dom wasted no time stepping back as the blaze climbed a couple feet into the air. The fire’s warm light flooded the massive cavern. Then came the terror.

  The seven hidden creatures were now fully revealed by the light of the fire. Their misshapen forms were an abomination. The unnatural humanoid bodies were more akin to rats than men, except for the spiraling array of horns that jutted out of their jaws and the backs of their skulls. Their darkened eyes surveyed their quarry as they waited.
Then the beasts began to creep forward, walking upright upon two feet. They were not just walking like men, but they were actually dressed, to a degree. The ripped and tattered articles of clothing and armor coupled with their crude weapons gave Theros a frightening revelation. These were more than just creatures; they had an intelligence to them.

  Theros raced forward, but there was no way that he would get there in time. The first of the mahlzur eyed the nearest prey. It eyed Dominar. The mahlzur leveled his spear towards Dom’s chest, and charged.

  “Aneri’On save him,” growled Theros in desperation as he leapt.

  A willowing mist-like cloud of fire swirled around the massive orc as he catapulted through the air. White light radiated from him. First the swirling mist began to burn, then his hammers burned brightly as he crashed down onto the charging mahlzur. The sickening wet thud of a hammer’s impact was accompanied by the sudden snapping of bones. The creature did not cry out. It never had a chance, it simply collapsed into a disfigured heap. The other creatures’ only response was to shift focus to their new quarry. They didn’t hiss or howl or shriek.They just locked their dead black eyes upon the orc and fanned out.

  The orc chieftain didn’t wait, though; he took the fight to them. Theros moved with stunning grace. He lunged forward destroying the first rat-men with a devastating backhanded strike with the left mace. He spun with the blow, allowing the momentum to take him. His second attack, this time with the other hammer, came fast in a wide arc. The mahlzur raised its blade but the force of the orc’s blow was too great. The rat-men was sent sprawling across the rocky ground, his crude sword springing free from his grasp. Before the echo of the blade’s clatter had died, Theros reversed his rotation, spinning back to his right before releasing a hammer. The speed and fluidity of his movements were unbelievable. The hammer was a forceful bolt of violet lightning rocketing from the orc’s hand. It obliterated the fourth creature, splattering evidence of the gruesome feat upon the cavern wall.

  Theros flipped his left hammer up, allowing himself to grab it with his dominant hand. He jumped. It wasn’t a normal jump, it wasn’t even like the explosive leap that he had performed at the start of the battle either, this one was different. This one seemed to... defy the very laws of physics. It seemed that he lurched in the air for a split second before his body was launched forward at a downward angle. The glowing head of Theros’ hammer plowed through the chest of the next rat-men, collapsing the creature’s chest.

  What was just as shocking as his mystical display of power was the fact that the creatures showed no fear. Theros was a swirling storm of mist and death, yet the horrid creatures still advanced. The creature on his left slashed with its large wedge-like blade. Theros parried the blow with a backhand swing, driving the head of his hammer into the side of the wide blade. Theros spun away to the right, again allowing his body to flow with his momentum. The unarmed mahlzur lunged at him, but it was too slow. The orc had come full circle and crashed his hammer into the rat-men’s rib cage.

  The body was not the hammer’s equal. Dwarven iron sunk into the soft flesh and bone with ease. The sickening wet sounds of the impact were only made worse when Theros tried to pull his hammer free from his enemy’s broken body. However, his hammer had gotten lodged underneath what was left of the creature’s rib cage.

  I don’t have time to pry it free and my other hammer is not within my reach, thought Theros. Or is it?

  Theros closed his eyes for a moment. The mist-like flames continued to swirled around him as his enemy ran at him, its daggers poised to strike. He knew what he had to do. He didn’t know how or why, he just knew. So he trusted his instincts. With something beyond just his mind, he pulled on something. He pulled hard... and it came. Through his supernaturally empowered will, he ripped his other hammer through the air. The glowing hammer spun rapidly as it hurtled toward him. He lifted his hand as if to receive it. The creature leapt at him. Theros snapped his raised arm back and out of the way, and towards his air born attacker. In a blink, the hammer streaked past him like a comet, before smashing into the face of the last mahlzur. The mostly headless body crashed to the floor, its momentum sliding the rat-men to the orc’s feet.

  Theros stared down at the mangled corpse at his feet. He had just laid waste to seven armed...things, with not so much as a scratch. The creatures had not even laid a claw upon him. He stood there in a state of shock as he examined the carnage. How did I do that? he wondered.

  The group stood in awe, stunned. Their jaws fell slack as the coalescing white fire-like mist swirled around the orc. Theros had always been something awesome and terrible to behold upon the battlefield, but this was something else. Theros was a great warrior, a champion even, but for a moment he had changed. Even his eyes had changed. In that moment he was not just Theros Hammerfist, orc chieftain. No, he had become something else, he had become something more.

  “By the living God,” whispered Dominar in amazement, his eyes still wide. “You’ve been called to be a Keeper of the Storm.”

  Theros and the others looked at Dominar with confusion.

  Theros slowly asked, “What did you say?”

  “You’ve been called to become a Keeper of the Storm,” Dom repeated, still shaking his head in disbelief.

  “What?” asked Nal’drin.

  “Where did you hear those words?” asked Theros with a look of surprise.

  The impetuous young king interrupted, “Wait, lemme guess, some ancient text or scroll thingy foretold the coming of our great and mystical champion.”

  Kiriana shot him a glare laced with disappointment. Dominar took the more direct approach, cuffing the lad in the back of the head.

  “What? Ow!” grumbled the young king. He frowned as he rubbed his head.

  Dominar’s perturbed eyes bored into the young man. “No, wise guy, that prophecy has already been fulfilled. Haven’t you been paying attention?”

  The girls couldn’t help but laugh at Dominar’s witty retort.

  Dominar smiled, knowing his clever reply was appreciated. Sometimes it’s the little things in life, he thought. He brought his smile to an abrupt end and returned to his rebuke of the king.

  “It is no prophecy. There are records of people performing such feats in days long since passed. These men and women were endowed with incredible gifts that were said to be granted by Ynu. It is all recorded in a book called Keepers of the Flame,” explained Dominar.

  “I knew it came from a book,” muttered Nal’drin under his breath.

  “Who is Ynu?” asked Theros.

  “No idea,” said Dom with a laugh.

  “Ugh, that’s not exactly helpful, or particularly funny, Dom,” said Theros, one eyebrow raised.

  Before Dom could respond, Kiriana spoke up.

  “I was never the most diligent with my studies, but I do recall hearing mention of this before in my lessons with Grandmaster Duncan—or was it Jonus,” she thought aloud. “Either way, I believe he called these people Keepers, like Dom said. It is my understanding that one of the founding members of the Brotherhood was one.”

  “Do you know who?” asked Dominar.

  It seemed like a silly question, it was not like any of them, save Kiriana, would have a clue who this person was. They would have been dead for a few hundred years.

  “King Lorenathi’Liluon,” she said quietly.

  “What?” Theros said incredulously. “You’re telling me that the weasel who betrayed Aneri’On was the son of your order’s founder? You have got to be kidding me.”

  “Grandson actually. The elven king helped establish the Brotherhood of the Unveiled eye. However, he died during the Mage Wars in the defense of his city. His son was to lead his people to the safety of Aurion and to become their king, but sometime in the years immediately following he fell ill and died at a young age. Our history suggests that knowing he was to die, the king produced an heir. Ultimately that heir, Tua’Liluon, became a child king without ever knowing his grandfather,” e
xplained Kiriana.

  “I’m confused,” said Dom. “How does this connect?”

  “Well, and again, I was never the most diligent in my studies, but King Lorenathi was a man of great faith. Faith in Ynu,” she shared.

  “So Ynu was some elven deity?” asked Nal’drin.

  “No, Lorenathi was one of the people that helped establish an entire order dedicated to preserving the holy writings and prophecies,” said Theros as he began to piece the puzzle together.

  “That order spanned racial boundaries too,” reminded Kiriana.

  “And so did the very items and teaching that they sought to preserve,” added Dominar with smile.

  “That we did,” agreed Kiriana with a rare smile.

  “So Ynu is an elvish word for God?” asked Nal’drin.

  “Nope,” answered Theros to everyone’s surprise. “It is His name in elvish.”

  “So they are one and the same, you know, Aneri’On and Ynu?” asked Nal’drin.

  Theros nodded solemnly. His mind flashed back to the visions he had been given. It flashed back to the fiery lion, the blue lion. He remembered when unseen hands guided him as he broke the centaur magi free from their darkness, his hammer blazing with a blue fire. He remembered the voice calling out to him, asking Theros to trust; it asked him to be a Keeper of the Storm.

  Then it hit him. The exhaustion was a tidal wave, a force of nature crashing down upon him, dragging him down with it. The gray giant staggered under the weight of its effects. He blinked. His eyesight became blurry. The aches of his exertion flooded his body, as the adrenaline and power dissipated. He fought back the urge to groan as he swallowed the pain.

  “Theros?” repeated Sharka. “Are you okay?”

  He met her soft brown eyes and forced a faint smile. “I’m just... tired.”

  “Oh...okay,” she stammered agreeably. “We were going to camp here for a bit anyway, what with the water and all.”

  Theros had been so focused on everything else, that he hadn’t even noticed his surroundings beyond the corpses. Though he still stood on weary legs, he took a moment to scan the cavern around him.