The Halls of the Fallen King

by Tiger Hebert

  “Ahh,” yelled Dom as he arched his back.

  The blade didn’t break his armor, but the force of the blow sent him flying. His hammer fell to the floor and Dom crashed into the wall headfirst. The violent collision ended with Dom’s limp body dropping to the floor.

  “Nooo!” screamed Theros. He snatched up Vrasch en Drak and surged forward. The draconic axe sung in his hands, the melody, a storm of retribution. The curved blades of the weapon sliced through the mankir’s armored legs with ease. Reluk’s armored body fell to the stone floor. Theros crouched down and launched himself through the air, his massive axe held overhead in a two handed grip. He sailed toward Reluk’s flailing figure. For the first time, he saw fear in the creature’s eyes.

  The mankir turned his blades toward the orc. If he was going to finally die, he was at least going to take two of them with him. Then Theros snapped his arms forward and he released the axe. The powerful two-handed throw sent the axe on its way. The gigantic weapon closed the short distance between them in a flash. The flawless iron axe head destroyed Duroc’s creation. Flesh and bone alike were hewn in grotesque fashion. The monster’s blood splattered everything nearby, the floor, the walls, and Dominar’s body. Reluk’s butchered corpse slapped to the ground with a sickening wet sound. Then they heard the ringing clatter of a gem bouncing upon stone.

  No one paid attention to the gem though, not while their friend lay on the ground in a pool of blood. They rushed over to Dominar. He was face down, and blood was everywhere.

  Nal’drin was the first one to reach the fallen dwarf. “Wake up you old goat, wake up,” he cried.

  “Roll him over,” barked Theros and he knelt at Dom’s side.

  Nal’drin and Theros worked to roll him onto his back, while Sharka braced his head. When they turned him over, they were stunned to see the extent of the damage. The left side of his face was incredibly swollen, and the colors had all turned to various shades of purple and black. His skin was broken in multiple spots and trails of blood streamed from them.

  “Is he alive?” asked Nal’drin, the emotion choking his voice.

  Theros pressed his fingers to Dom’s neck. His eyes grew wide with fear. “I can’t find a pulse!”

  Theros then pressed his ear to Dom’s chest. He listened. Nothing.

  “Let me see, move!” Kiriana’s voice carried the weight of command.

  Theros moved over enough to let her get to Dom. Then she pointed past them and said, “Give me that stone.”

  Theros shot her a look of confusion, but he snatched up the blood-soaked topaz without delay and handed it to her. “What are you doing?”

  She snatched the fist-sized gem with both hands. “I don’t know... now move back, everyone, now!”

  The others shared concerned looks, but the tone in her voice left no room for rebuttal. They moved back, giving her room. She lifted the dimly lit topaz up into the air before her and closed her eyes.

  “Mish tu belok, vi santro cu mestras, vish tu mish tu belok,” The words erupted from her lips as if they were wreathed in fire.

  New light began to fill the once dim topaz. She repeated her chant, and the stone transformed into an orb of blazing golden light. Then she opened her eyes and placed one hand down onto Dominar’s blackened face and spoke a final prayer.

  “Kri samo, sancri mishtavah.”

  The cavern exploded with a flash of blinding golden light.

  Dominar’s chest rose slightly and he breathed once more.

  18

  Two Lives End and One Begins

  Many of the fallen angels followed Raiza’kin. He was by far the most powerful among those that were cast down, so they turned to him. They sought to give all their allegiance to him and make him king. It wasn’t enough for him, though. He lamented his fear of betrayal. They tried to assuage his fears and doubts, but he resisted. They pledged their loyalty, but he scoffed at the notion. After all, they had pledged their loyalty to the Father once, too. Time passed, the renegade angels wallowed in despair, devoid of leadership or direction. They begged him once more. He balked at their promises, but they insisted. Finally Raiza’kin told them that if they would swear an oath of loyalty and service to him, he would be their king. They agreed and their oaths were sworn, upon their souls...

  The traitorous Seraph had established his own kingdom, beginning his rule and reign. With his ascension to godhood, Raiza’kin abandoned the name given him by the Father, the one whom he once called God. In its place, he took up the name the Darklight...

  War in the Heavens, Jazren of the Seraphim Order

  DOMINAR’S CHEST ROSE as he inhaled. Then it lowered as the breath was released from his lungs. The low soft whistle that came from his mouth was a comforting sound. He had still not awoken and his face was badly bruised and swollen, but he was alive.

  Kiriana exhaled with a deep sigh and she slumped into Theros. With her strength sapped, her weakened body collapsed against his shoulder. She tried to put her arms out and catch herself, but she didn’t have the strength. Theros turned to catch her as she began to slide down his arm.

  “What’s happening to her? Is she okay?” demanded Nal’drin as he moved to her side.

  Theros lifted his eyes from the woman, to the worried face of the young king and he said, “She’ll be fine. It’s just the exhaustion kicking in, she just needs some rest... and some food, and she will get her strength back.”

  “Why did this happen to her?” said Nal’drin.

  “It appears I’m not the only one with a gift,” said Theros as he shifted his eyes back down to Kiriana. “And it seems that when you use it, it takes everything you have.”

  “Do we set up camp here?” asked Nal’drin.

  Theros said, “I think we get back to Duroc, then we can set up camp for the night.”

  “Can we just stay here for the night, let them recover first?” pleaded Sharka with an unusual desperation in her voice.

  “I think we should get back first, then rest,” said Theros.

  “I don’t think it is a wise decision to return to him before we’re at full strength,” said Sharka.

  “Duroc needs the stones. The faster we get him the stones, the faster he can break his bonds,” said Theros.

  Sharka replied, “That’s what I’m afraid of Theros. I know you trust him, but not all of us feel the same way. We don’t know much about him, other than what he has told us himself. If he turns on us—”

  Theros cut her off, “If he turns on us, I’ll bury that axe in his face.”

  “Yes, dear, you’ll bury that axe in his face, you’ve said it time and again, but what do you know of sorcery and of killing of mages?” she asked, as frustration flooded her voice.

  How could he blame her for not just blindly trusting the mage king? Yet he found himself angered by her lack of trust all the same. Sharka was often so passive, submissive even in some regards, but she was speaking up more often of late, and he didn’t particularly care for the change. But in truth, he had no rebuttal for argument. So he just grunted, assuring himself that she was aware of his irritation. Then he just sat there in silence for a moment as he pondered possible courses of action.

  Theros pushed away the lingering remnants of his anger with a deep breath and exhalation. He looked to Sharka and said, “We can’t stay here. We have no provisions or supplies. We can’t cook, we can’t eat, and we can’t even clean their wounds, but I see your concern with returning to the king and handing over the gems. Which of those choices am I supposed to make?”

  Sharka’s expression softened and she spoke. “What makes you think those are our only options?”

  Theros raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

  Nal’drin butted in and asked, “What are you thinking?”

  Sharka let her understated smile grow and she said, “Okay, if we need to go back and set up camp fine, but we can’t let him have the stones yet.”

  “I doubt he’s gonna go for that,” said Nal’drin with skepticism
as he crossed his arms.

  “What choice does he have? What’s he going to do about it?” she asked, a certain boldness evident in her tone.

  Nal’drin’s voice rose with excitement laced with fear, “What if he draws upon the stones power? That’s what this is all about, right, the power within these stones?”

  “If he could tap into the stones, don’t you think he’d have already done it? He wouldn’t just sit there imprisoned. No, he needed our help,” said Sharka.

  “That’s a great point,” admitted Theros.

  Then a faint, weakened voice spoke in an almost whispered tone, “Proximity... it’s all about... proximity.”

  The three turned to face Kiriana, who they had almost forgotten was still cradled in the big orc’s arms. The pallor of her face was fading, but she was still drained so much that even speaking those few words seemed to sap her strength, but she spoke again.

  “Return, but... do not... let the stones get near... him.”

  “It’s a gamble, but I think it could work,” admitted Nal’drin.

  “There’s an added benefit to this plan too,” said Theros.

  “Oh really, what’s that?” asked Nal’drin.

  “We get to observe how he reacts when he isn’t in control,” said Theros as a mischievous grin crossed his lips.

  “Ahh, very good,” said Nal’drin with a big smile.

  It was her plan, but Sharka still looked concerned.

  “Sharka, what’s wrong?” Theros asked.

  “I’m just worried he will know our plan. Isn’t he always... listening?” she asked.

  Theros shook his head and said, “No, the link is broken right now. I’m sure that’ll change, though, if we don’t return soon.”

  Some of the worry left Sharka’s face and she spoke. “Okay, but no more talk, lest a new link is formed.”

  Theros nodded in agreement. The conversation ended. Now it was time for them to find a way to get all of them back safely. With Sharka’s help, Nal’drin was able to carry Kiriana through the squat tunnel, leaving Theros with the unenviable task of finding a gentle way of getting his dear friend Dominar up the tunnel.

  Theros thought for a moment, then he removed his trousers. He wore barely adequate undergarments, but this wasn’t the time for modesty. His friend needed help. He set the leather breeches on the ground next to his friend, then he slid his massive hand under Dom and carefully lifted him up enough to slide the breeches under him. Theros then pulled each leg of the breeches out to the sides and then up and over Dom’s shoulders. Then he took the ends of the legs and pulled them tight and tied them snug against the base of his friend’s neck.

  The crude rigging formed a basic harness that crossed in the back and came up under the armpits and back behind the neck. It wasn’t the most supportive harness, but it would allow him to drag his friend through the tunnel. Theros checked the harnesse’s fit one last time, then he grasped it over the large knot behind Dom’s head, and began to pull. The harness held. Theros nodded with satisfaction, and began to transport his friend.

  It took a while for Theros to drag Dom’s sleeping body through the cramped tunnel, but he did it without incident. He emerged to find Sharka and Nal’drin waiting on him. They offered to relieve him of his burden. He asked Nal’drin to go back and retrieve his axe, but he insisted on carrying Dom. Dom was no burden.

  When Theros finally reached the northern sanctum, he found that a fire had already been made upon one of the massive stone tables. And there upon it simmered a pot of stew. The smell of kluelle and spices and turnips was a pleasant greeting indeed. Theros smiled and he laid his friend down on one of the nearby empty tables. The big orc set his satchel that contained the amethyst Elder Stone at Dom’s side.

  “What happened to your friend?” asked Duroc, his voice strangely carrying the great distance with ease.

  “He hit his head pretty hard,” answered Theros.

  “Is he still alive?”

  Theros watched the rise and fall of the dwarf’s chest and said, “Yes, but he doesn’t wake.”

  “Once I am free, I should be able to wake him. For now just let his body rest,” said Duroc. “What about the woman? What happened to her?”

  Theros turned and looked at Kiriana who lay on her side near the fire. “She saved him.”

  “What? How?” asked the king with obvious surprise.

  “I don’t know,” admitted Theros. “He was... not breathing and she used the stone to make him breathe again.”

  “Interesting. You should be thankful that she was there for him,” said Duroc.

  “I am,” said Theros, his voice falling away.

  “So... you were able give Reluk peace?” asked Duroc.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. I know it was costly, but I will make sure that your friends recover. That much I can promise,” said the King with a soft voice.

  “Duroc,” said Theros.

  “Yes?”

  “Is there any water around here?” asked Theros.

  “To the far left corner, beyond the stage. You’ll find a spring over there,” answered Duroc.

  “Thanks.”

  “Theros,” said Duroc.

  “Yes?”

  “You should put your pants back on, otherwise you’ll frighten the poor girl when she wakes up,” said Duroc with a laugh.

  Theros looked down at his nearly exposed state. He blushed, and pulled his leather breeches back on. Theros found the spring that Duroc mentioned. Nearby he found a small collection of copper pots. They were covered in dust, but it was nothing that a good rinsing couldn’t fix. So the orc worked to make a pot serviceable, then he filled it with fresh cold mountain water. Soon he was back and washing his friend’s bloodied face.

  Sharka and Nal’drin returned, Nal’drin was doing everything he could just to carry the massive axe.

  “How on earth do you carry this thing, no less swing it, blazes,” said Nal’drin, then without skipping a beat he said, “Oh, I see you’ve found the spring.”

  Theros just grunted and returned to washing the blood from Dominar’s face.

  “Has he awoken yet?” asked Sharka as she moved to his side.

  “No.”

  “He’s going to be alright,” she said as she reached out and placed her hand on the back of his.

  “The king says he can help him once he’s free,” said Theros, his expression flat.

  Sharka’s gaze went from concerned to nervous. “Patience,” she said, her eyes pleading with him.

  Theros forced himself to look away. His eyes instead found the battered and bruised face of his longtime friend. He said nothing, he simply nodded.

  Theros asked, “Can you finish cleaning him? I need to speak with the king.” He saw the look of fear grow in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving the stones here.”

  She sighed, her anxiety washed away. She took a step closer, and tugged on his shoulder until he turned toward her. Then she rose onto her tip-toes and stretched up to him. She placed a gentle kiss on his check. Then she dropped back down and went about the business of washing their friend’s wounds. At that moment, something shifted inside of Theros. He couldn’t tell what it was or what it had changed, but something had just happened. He took a deep breath, and he turned to walk away.

  Theros made his way across the long chamber toward the king’s prison. Soon he was standing upon the large stage, standing face to face with the king’s spirit-bound figure. The king turned and regarded him quietly.

  “How many stones do you need to be freed?” he asked without pretense.

  “Two stones will allow me to break the bond with the altar. Four stones will allow me to retrieve my body, and unsever my spirit,” answered Duroc.

  “How do you plan to use the stones, once we get them?”

  “I can’t touch them and I can’t draw from them directly, but...if you place the gems into their cradles upon these arches, then I will be indirectly linked to them,” replied
the king.

  “How long will this all take?”

  “The unshackling will be almost instantaneous. The unsevering is the real question mark here. First, I have to locate the alcove where my body is hidden. Once I do, then I need to open it and retrieve my body. Once that is all done, the unsevering is again almost instantaneous,” said Duroc. “The biggest challenge is if they put any wards or seals upon the alcove, which I’m sure they did, then I’ll have to unlock them.”

  “Can you do it?”

  “Without a doubt, it’s just a matter of time to discover what we are dealing with, then finding the right incantation to unlock it.”

  He never lacks confidence, thought Theros.

  Theros continued his terse interrogation. “Where are the other two stones?”

  “One...stone,” corrected Duroc.

  Theros raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side in confusion. “You just said you need four stones, and we only have two.”

  “Wrong again, Hammerfist, you have three,” said Duroc with a chuckle and a wink.

  Theros didn’t understand. “That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  Duroc chuckled. Then Theros realized the king’s gaze went past him, to the giant axe that was propped against the wall next to Nal’drin. Its faint green glow almost seemed to pulse from within the eyes of the dragon that sat between the twin blades. Theros turned, wide-eyed in amazement.

  “It’s in the axe?”

  “Indeed it is,” said Duroc with a smile. “We still need the fourth though.”

  “Where is it?” asked Theros.

  “It is kept by Krithaliel,” said Duroc with a shudder.

  “That’s the kid you don’t tell anyone about,” guessed Theros.

  “No, she is something far different... from an old age, long before you and I, and you’ll need my help to defeat her,” said Duroc warily.

  “What is she?” Theros asked.

  “She has become a poor and wretched thing. Many would call the tentacled horror a demon of sorts. She is a dangerous creature. She feeds on despair and torments her victims with terror and guilt,” said Duroc.