The Halls of the Fallen King

by Tiger Hebert

  No reply came.

  After a moment of focused thought, he found the most suitable rock and he took a seat. The dwarf grabbed a fistful of beard and wrung it out. A surprising amount of water fell free and splashed upon the cave’s smooth stone floor. He closed his eyes, his heart pounded in his chest, and with a voice that rumbled like the deep resounding roll of unrepentant thunder—he sang a new song.

  You walked through fire, called the dead to rise

  Still we doubted you, callin’ your promises lies,

  Yet you still pursued us, even to your grave,

  Still we doubted you, believin’ you can’t save,

  And still you pursued us, even then...

  In time—before the light,

  ‘Fore the stars burned so bright.

  In time—before wind an’ rain,

  ‘Fore I knew my own name.

  In time—before death’s first sting,

  ‘Fore we ever called you king,

  In time—before the wars,

  ‘Fore I knew I was yours,

  You were there...

  You were there...

  You were there...

  Dragons fall when you move,

  Chains break when you speak,

  Debts are paid when you die,

  Yet you live, knowing we’ll run again,

  Even then, you’d do it all over again...even then

  A gentle breeze drifted in off the river. Dominar wiped his eyes while the echo of dirge-like melody soared throughout the cavern. He pulled his hand away, wet with tears. His heart was heavy. He couldn’t help but think of his friends. Here he was trapped somewhere in the bowels of the earth, close enough to the pits of hell to knock on their door, yet they were his chief concern. But, despite all his fear, he chose to trust.

  The old dwarf opened his eyes and reached up to wipe tears away once more, clearing his vision. There in that moment, he saw the cave in a new light—literally. The crystal that was lodged into the wall off to his left hummed with new energy. Its light had grown stronger, enough to illuminate much more of the cave. He could now see that the river seemed to twist and then turn back and away out of sight to the left, and it appeared that there was a rather narrow walkway along the river’s left bank. So he followed it.

  As Dom followed the path around the corner and out of sight of the entrance, he found it hard to see once again. Using his hands, Dom groped about in the dark in an attempt to hug the wall lest he should fall back into the river. He rounded another small bend and from the sounds of it, it appeared the wall was pulling away from the river into what he guessed was a big room. He moved slowly in the dark until his boot struck something. The tumbling object made a loud clatter as it toppled and crashed into pile of other unseen objects, which then proceeded to topple and crash every which way. Dom froze and the items fell about, some even shattering. Glass, he thought. These must be bottles of some sort!

  “At least I’ve still got my boots.” he noted.

  Dom resumed his nearly blind journey along the wall’s edge, kicking aside overturned bottles and shards of glass as necessary. It only took him a moment to follow the curved wall. The sounds of the flowing water grew loud again. He realized he had been right. This wasn’t leading him away from the river, it was just a room. As he reached the other side of the room he noticed that a faint bit of light seemed to be coming from just around the corner. Hopeful excitement rose up in the dwarf and he hurried along the wall.

  Once Dom reached the corner and he saw where the pale blue light was coming from, his wrinkled and tired face twisted into a smile. A broad corridor running alongside the narrow river started to climb before him. Dom hooted with excitement as he made his way up the incline. Once he reached the top, the passage curved away from the river, and cut into the gorge walls. The tunnel was clear and it was well lit. Much to his surprise, the wall to his left was lined with wooden shelves that stretched beyond his line of sight. The wooden racks were plum full of glass bottles containing dark liquid. Wine, he thought with a chuckle. Glowing crystals had been mounted to the wine rack at intervals of about every ten yards. There was more than enough light to mark the ascent that awaited him.

  “By Baffingbauld’s beard. Bless you!”

  Dominar’s laughter filled the room. Relief rushed over him. Dominar squatted down and tightened the laces on his boots, then he began his ascent. The song he had sung played in his mind and a smile crossed his lips. Even then.

  30

  An Invitation

  Once Raiza’kin’s body was shattered, his essence spilled forth into the Eversphere. None of the worlds were left untouched, but Aurion was at its epicenter, and as such felt the impact of the shattering the most. That which seemed to be my brother’s death was, in a warped way, his most significant contribution to the world. As the shattered essence of his darkened soul, the Qarii, seeped into the world, things began to change. First the animals and the people changed, then the dragons...

  The dragons were free in those days. As powerful and wise as they were, they resisted the influence of the Qarii the longest. But when the darkness took hold of them, it took them with fury. People once regarded them as awful and terrible to behold; they had no idea...

  The dragons wrought destruction throughout the world, ravaging everything in their path. The Father loved them, for they too were part of his creation, but he was forced to act, lest all his people be destroyed. He gathered up the dragons, cast them into a deep sleep, and secreted them away behind a locked door. Unfortunately, the hearts of both men and angels are full of all kinds of wickedness, and they have done everything in their power to unlock that door...

  I fear that a day comes when all the Father’s efforts to keep them locked away are undone. Let us pray that the Day of the Dragon never comes to pass. On that terrible day I fear that the world should end, but the more frightening truth is that it won’t because even more terrible things are yet to be loosed. Ancient One, help us.

  War in the Heavens, Jazren of the Seraphim Order

  GREBLAR LED THE TRAIN of prisoners into the sanctum. The massive room that had served as the king’s laboratory for so many years, now belonged to goblins. Hundreds of gangly, green skinned soldiers milled about in a variety of activities. The goblins’ long awaited day had come. Preparations were in order. Today was the day that goblins took over the world.

  The goblin king frowned. “Captain Greblar, why are you escorting the offerings?”

  “Theys managed ta kill their driver an’ destroyed tha wagon. Theys was ‘bout to escape when I caught ‘em,” hissed the captain.

  That wasn’t what happened, of course, but Theros knew it didn’t matter—there was no justice here. He and his friends just stood there quietly awaiting the king’s response.

  “There were six, two dwarves. You let him escape?” asked the king with a growl.

  The charade continued. “No master. When he realized that he couldn’t escape yous wrath, he leapt to ‘is doom, devoured by the chasm.”

  “You chased him into the ravine?” snapped the king.

  “Of course not master, I’d never steal yous pleasures. Tha dwarf found the chasm’s depths more merciful. Leapt before I gots close.” Greblar bowed low.

  The captain had played this game before, and he played it well. The king smiled with satisfaction and nodded with agreement.

  “He knew the miseries I’d have sowed upon his hide. He was wise to jump.” King Groknahl offered up a grunt and a gloating smirk.

  “Indeed master, very wise. Now what shall I’s do with the offerins,” he asked with another hiss.

  “Up on the dais there is a large stone altar near the portal. Chain them to it.”

  “Yes master.”

  Theros watched as the seemingly hardened captain, scurried away to do the king’s bidding like a scared rat. Theros wanted to strangle him.

  Greblar tugged on the chains as he pulled the prisoners up the steps and onto the stage. A few mome
nts later he had them all chained up. Theros snarled at the goblin and jerked as if he might lunge toward him. Despite the chains, the goblin jumped with fright, and he tripped over his own feet. Greblar lost his balance and crashed hard to the floor.

  Theros turned his snarling glare back toward the king, who was now just a few paces behind them right there on the stage. “If you’re going to kill us, let’s just be done with it.”

  “Or you can take your time, we are actually totally good with that approach too,” interjected Nal’drin, followed by an uneasy gulp.

  The king chuckled. “Oh, you’re all going to die, but I’m not the one that’ll be killing you. That honor is reserved for the one that is to come, the one who walks in darkness and whispers in the night.”

  “You’re really going to summon a demon?” asked Kiriana in disbelief.

  “Gods, not demons,” said the king with a grating voice.

  “Call them what you want, but Rejmar and Bakasin are dead, and they’re not coming back.”

  “You are mistaken, pale skin,” said the king. “In their deaths, Rejmar’s and Bakasin’s fates were joined, and in rebirth they become one.”

  Kiriana fired back, “I’ve studied the histories, and I’ve studied the texts. They are not what you think they are. You are a fool to believe otherwise.”

  The goblin king offered up a menacing cackle and a wicked grin. “Oh, I know fully what they were, and what they are to become. Rash-kranish will make you a believer.”

  “So we are the offerings to your new god?” asked Theros.

  “Something like that,” said the king with a grin. “Sadly, he’ll be hasty to... consume you. I’d like for you to be able to witness the birth of the new age.”

  In an attempt to stall and perhaps even draw out more of the king’s plans, Nal’drin continued with questions. “So you summon your demon king, and what, you help him conquer the world? Enslaving everyone, ushering an age of darkness, and the whole bit?”

  Without missing a beat, the king said, “Nope.”

  “No? Why no slaves?” asked Nal’drin.

  “Because there will be no one left.”

  “Of all people, a king should understand that it’s hard to build an empire without servants,” added Theros.

  “There will be no empire...” said the king before his voice trailed off into an uneasy silence.

  Theros patiently bided his time before speaking. “I don’t understand.”

  The king turned his emotionless gaze to the orc. “Rash-kranish comes with fire in his wings—this world burns.”

  “What?” snapped Theros. “Your plan is to destroy the world?”

  Light glinted in the goblin’s eyes. “Burn it all.”

  “Madness! What the hell is wrong with you?” Theros strained against his chains.

  Kiriana shouted, “Talking to those demons has driven you mad!”

  The goblin king remained unflinching and tight-lipped.

  Sharka begged, “Why do you do this?”

  “You who think you know so much, know so little. This world is infested with the filth of a failed creation. The time has come to purge this planet.”

  “Is there no reason in you?” asked Kiriana.

  The king snapped. “For thousands of years my people have waited for this day. The day when the fear, the rejection, and the hatred of my people draws to a close! The world’s war against my kind has culminated in the coming wrath. Be thankful for the mercy of Rash-kranish, for his kindled wrath is quick to consume everything it touches.”

  “This is lunacy!” shouted Theros.

  The king gave a devilish grin. “Lunacy is found in me.”

  The five concentric ivory arches towered over Groknahl’s portly figure. The stout king tipped his head back as he examined the full scope of the craftsmanship that was on display. He nodded slowly, noting his appreciation for the dwarven construct as he limped closer to it. The king turned to his right and grabbed a nearby step-stool, then pulled it over in front of the white arches. Groknahl slowly clambered up the steps, until he was able to reach the polished steel fixtures that were about to cradle the gems. He rifled through his pockets and slowly retrieved the gems one by one, placing them in their settings. The ruby, the amethyst, the sapphire, and then the topaz Elder Stones were soon in their cradles. Then the rotund goblin backed his way down the step-ladder.

  Something out of the corner of his eye, caught Theros’ attention. He looked away to the corner of the sanctum to where Glemigk had been chained. The shackles were empty. The orc shook his head.

  “You can bring their packs up here on the dais, but let’s keep those weapons down there on one of those tables. But, bring the axe over here,” shouted the king as he pointed to the ivory archway.

  Duroc spoke up. “I understand the draw of the Qarii. I understand their promises, but you must see through these lies.”

  “What do you know of promises?” barked the goblin.

  Duroc met the goblin’s eyes. “The world will be born through fire and made anew. That the old will be burned away, leaving you to rule this new paradise with your master. He will reward you with a seat of honor and power as you rule your master’s new kingdom.”

  “How do you know goblin prophecies?” demanded the king with a growl.

  “I hate to piss in your brandy, but that’s not a goblin prophecy,” said the scowling dwarf.

  “Then you were a servant of Rash-kranish?” Groknahl expression grew puzzled.

  “Nope.”

  “Then how do you know these things?” demanded the king once more, his expression darkening.

  Duroc sighed as he rolled his eyes. “Listen bub, there’s no Rejmar or Bakasin or Rash-kranish. They are Darklords, otherwise known as demons or fallen angels. Every single one of them. And they serve only the will of the Qarii. Every person that wields the magics is approached by the Darklords, veiled within the shroud of one deity of one faith or another. They always carry great promises that feed off your hopes and your fears, in an attempt to twist you to their will.”

  “Oh, and I suppose that the mighty and wise king of the dwarves was impervious to the simple tricks of the Qarii and the Darklords?” quipped the king, his tongue dripping with sarcasm. “Do tell me, how escaped you from the snares of the puppet master?”

  Duroc’s eyes fell down until he was staring at his shackled wrists. He said nothing for a minute, perhaps two, then a soft whisper escaped his lips. “I didn’t escape. I placed my bets... and I lost.”

  “Why am I wasting my time talking to you? You’ve nothing to say.”

  “Your gods sought my devotion. They tried to instill a faith in me, but who needs a god when you think you are one?” said Duroc rhetorically. Then he lifted his chained hands and said, “Some god I am.”

  “Bah!” said the king with a grunt and a dismissive wave. “Say what you will, you’ll see—and then it’ll be too late.”

  The king turned his back on the prisoners and he shifted his attention back toward the ivory gate. The goblin king began to mumble words in a strange tongue they’d never heard, and the five Elder Stones began to glow. Duroc salivated as the Qarii began to stir. The atmosphere hummed with potency and the wild winds of sorcery began to blow. The power channeled through the goblin king’s evocation was unlike anything they had ever felt before. Even the wizard was awed by the intensity of the magic that surged through the place.

  Theros yelled over the rushing wind, “Duroc, do something!”

  “I can’t,” shouted the dwarf.

  The magic pressure in the atmosphere became an oppressive blanket smothering them. The prickling surge of discharging cords of magic scratched and clawed at their sense as the swirling winds tugged at them. An unseen vortex hummed with foul energy as all five stones empowered Groknahl’s spell. There was no stopping it now, inside the arches the portal began to open. As the fabric of the world’s reality was torn asunder, the void was opened and all hell broke loose.

&
nbsp; The smoldering void between the worlds opened with an orange glow. Like a ravenous beast, its maw stretched wide, fangs of its wickedness fully bared. Virulent magic erupted from the void. Fiery wasps the size of Iskari cigars shot through the dimensional rift like swarming magic locusts. Duroc hissed a curse and a spell under his breath, casting a deflective shield around himself and his companions. The dwarf screamed as the magic took its toll on his flesh, wracking him with pain. His voice was unheard though, drowned out by the terrified screams of his companions. Then despite his pain, he saw the terror stepping out of the abyss, and like his companions—Duroc continued screaming.

  DOMINAR REACHED THE end of the labyrinthine wine cellar and found himself staring at an old wooden ladder. Dom’s eyes followed the ladder upward until it met what appeared to be a wooden hatch; he guessed it was a trap door that was probably kept hidden. There’s no way anyone would want the whereabouts of a wine cellar of this size to be known. He just hoped he hadn’t come this far to find a large piece of furniture on the other side of that door, baring his exit. Either way, he’d find out in a minute. Dom tested the wooden ladder. It seemed to be in good enough shape, so he began his short climb.

  The wooden latch seemed to be in good condition, but it refused to budge. Dom’s face grew red as he pushed and pushed, but it just wouldn’t move. Dom stopped for moment, and he relaxed a bit too much. His right foot slipped off the rung, and the gray-bearded dwarf lost his balance and began to fall backward. Frantic fingers sought any purchase they might find, and in their frenzied flight, they caught hold of the wooden latch. Dominar’s weight continued to fall away, and his hold on the latch didn’t stop it. Instead, the latch slid toward him as he fell back. Then the latch’s travel halted and the dwarf’s momentum jerked to a stop.

  “Phew! Huh, pull not push, imagine that.”

  Dom’s white-knuckled grip held long enough for him to get ahold of the wooden ladder once more, steadying himself. The dwarf breathed a sigh of relief, and then he reached up and lifted the wooden hatch. The trap door opened into what he guessed must have been the storeroom of some wealthy family, a noble family, or a merchant perhaps. He didn’t know what came first, the wealth or the wine, but he knew that such a collection would have been worth a fortune.