by Sam Ferguson
Mr. Stilwell spat in Lokton’s face. “A curse on you, and your house.”
Braun’s fist came in hard to Mr. Stilwell’s side and doubled the man over.
“No, Braun, that is enough,” Lord Lokton commanded. “Just take him to the dungeon and put him in a private cell. See that he is well fed and comfortable. I wish to regain his friendship after we have finished our investigation of the magistrate’s murder.”
“As you command,” Braun said with a nod. He and Sir Duvall started to take Mr. Stilwell away when Lord Lokton put a hand on Sir Duvall’s shoulder.
“Stay, Sir Duvall,” Lord Lokton commanded. Sir Duvall turned and bowed and Braun took Mr. Stilwell away. “I want you to go to Lord Cedreau and explain what has happened. Inform him that a full investigation is underway, but that as a courtesy I thought I would inform him first.”
“My lord, that will only give him time to hide his son,” Sir Duvall countered.
“I will keep the knife here,” Lord Lokton said. “I will also send a full report of your testimonies to the senate. If Lord Cedreau hides his son, it will only prove his guilt. Whatever happens, we must handle this by the letter of the law. One misstep on our part would be a disaster for both houses.”
“I see,” Sir Duvall said. “I shall go immediately.”
“No,” Lord Lokton said. “It is already late in the day. If you go now you would arrive during dinner. I know him well enough that he will refuse a private audience, insisting that anything House Lokton has to say to him can be said in front of his guests. If you were to give this message in front of guests it would be as bad as if we had arrested his son. Go in the morning, so you will have a greater chance of gaining a private audience with him.”
“As you command,” Sir Duvall said with a bow.
*****
Mr. Stilwell sat in his cell looking up through the small window near the ceiling that afforded him a glimpse of the starry sky. The night was peaceful and cool. It should have been easy for him to lie down, but he could not sleep. The anger still raged within him. He had told Sir Duvall that they shouldn’t tell Lord Lokton. They should have taken care of it themselves, but Sir Duvall had promised that Lord Lokton would help. They had all betrayed him. The death of his cousin was second in importance to the games of power that the nobles played. Mr. Stilwell thought himself a fool. He sat in a cell for finding his cousin’s body while the murderer wandered free enjoying a luxurious life as a noble’s son.
“It isn’t right, is it?” a voice asked from the shadows of the dungeon hall.
Mr. Stilwell turned to see Sir Duvall’s face emerge from the darkness into the starlight. “What do you want?” Mr. Stilwell asked. “I want no more of your advice.”
“I have not come to give advice,” Sir Duvall said sadly. “I have come to apologize. I judged Lord Lokton to be a man of honor. I thought him above the trappings of political games and positioning. That was why I entered into his service.”
“You were wrong,” Mr. Stilwell growled.
“Indeed,” Sir Duvall agreed. “But, I have come not only with words, but actions to rectify my failing.” Sir Duvall held up a key and slipped it into the lock. The tumblers clicked into place and the latch of the cell door came free. Sir Duvall quickly grabbed the door and applied pressure to it as he opened it, trying to keep it from squeaking.
“What’re you doing?”
“You and I shall go to Cedreau Manor and punish the murderer ourselves. We will then come back and I will put you back in the cell.”
“That won’t work, Lord Lokton will know it was me.”
“Ah,” Sir Duvall held up a finger to his nose. “But, with you in the cell, and the guard swearing that he saw you sleeping during each of his rounds tonight Lord Lokton will have no proof. We will take that arrogant noble’s game and turn it on him. Then, when the senate comes to investigate, the evidence will point to your innocence and you will be free.”
“Why are you doing this?” Mr. Stilwell asked.
“Because Lord Lokton wants me to go in the morning and warn Lord Cedreau of the coming investigation,” Sir Duvall replied. “I can not give the magistrate’s killer a chance to get away.”
Mr. Stilwell rose to his feet. The anger was fresh and hot in his eyes. “Let’s go.”
*****
Master Lepkin dismounted and stood before the twin dwarfs. “I have come to speak with the king.”
“We already have a senator in audience with King Sit’marihu, how many more people is King Mathias going to send?” one of the dwarves asked.
“A senator is here already?” Lepkin asked with an arched brow. “Which one?”
“I dunno, all you tall folk look the same to me,” the dwarf replied with a shrug.
“A senator is noticeable, even among the dwarf folk,” Lepkin said. “I think the white robes with purple stripes on the sleeves should be enough to set them apart. If not, then there is always the gold talisman of the double-headed eagle that they wear around their necks.”
“Alright, so a senator might be different from the rest of you tall folk, but I’m not for knowing the man’s name,” the dwarf gruffed. Lepkin could tell that the dwarf’s patience was running extra thin. “I still don’t see why your presence is necessary. Who are you to add anything to a senator’s message?”
“I am the Keeper of Secrets,” Master Lepkin said evenly. “Now open the door or I shall do it myself.” Lepkin’s hand went down to pull his cloak back. The dwarves both jumped at the sight of the famed blade and hurried to open the door. Lepkin walked inside without another look at either of the dwarves.
He passed through a long upward sloping tunnel. The walls were smooth, with small holes in the low hanging ceiling every dozen yards or so. Normally the construction of the tunnel would seem strange to any besides the dwarves, but Lepkin knew the purpose behind its unique design. Roegudok Hall was built on the inside of a great mountain. The sheer cliffs and impassable peak forced all guests, both invited and uninvited, to use the main entrance, this tunnel, to gain access to the inside of Roegudok Hall. According to the wisdom of the Ancients, the dwarves had built this tunnel to slope in such a way that if an army intruded into the tunnel, the army of Roegudok Hall could unleash molten metal, burning oil, or any other deadly liquid they deemed appropriate to scourge the invaders. The defense was so effective that no invader had even seen the gates of Roegudok Hall itself. They had all died or fled before they could come half way into the three mile long tunnel.
Even the height of the ceiling was specially designed to aid in defending the great inner palace. With the tunnel only six feet tall, it hindered soldiers yet allowed for the almost comfortable passage of invited guests, so long as he walked. Furthermore no man could ever ride a horse through the tunnel. This fact rendered enemy cavalry useless against the dwarves. Master Lepkin marveled at the wisdom of the design. Even if an army managed to fight its way through hordes of dwarven ranks without cavalry, which is unlikely in the first place, the dwarves could fall back and unleash the burning oil, and force the intruders out or slay them all in the tunnel. There was no threat that could get past this defense. Except for the power of Nagar’s Secret, Lepkin knew.
Lepkin quickened his pace. He hoped the dwarf king would see the impending danger, but wondered if Al was right. Maybe he was wasting his time. He shook the thought from his head. It was his duty to warn the dwarves of the danger. As the Keeper he was sworn to look after the chosen people of the Ancients. Even if the dwarves had turned away from the ways of the Ancients, Lepkin could at least give them this last warning.
The main gates to the hall were mostly shut, but a wall of golden light emitted from the slight opening in the extremely tall, arched doors of iron. Master Lepkin didn’t wait for the doors to be opened completely. He slipped through the small opening, sucking in his stomach and straightening as much as possible as he slid through. On the other side he let out his breath and straightened his belt before continuing
.
The main hall was breathtaking. The vaulted ceilings almost disappeared well over two hundred feet above Lepkin’s head. He might not have been able to see them if not for the plated gold and platinum that reflected the light of the torches and oil lamps below. Each supporting column had been hewn and smoothed to perfection. The pink granite stone was smooth as silk and polished so much that one could almost use it as a mirror. There were some small stone buildings nearby; a guardhouse and a barracks for the Gate Patrol. Lepkin saw a pair of dwarves sitting at a wooden table outside the guardhouse, eyeing him suspiciously. Lepkin slid his cloak back to reveal his sword. The two dwarves nodded and returned to their game of cards.
He walked briskly past many more buildings of stone set against the wall of the western side of the great entrance hall. He didn’t stop to notice the looks that were cast his way or the dwarves that offered them. Counting the massive columns to keep his bearing, he turned to the right and walked through the market. There were tables with trinkets of all shapes and sizes strewn over them. There were also a few tables that offered vegetables, the kinds that grew inside the mountain, and there were others that offered clothing, books, or weapons. He didn’t even glance at the tables. He was too focused.
After crossing the market he wound his way up a spiraling staircase cut right into the stone of an irregularly large column. This wasn’t the staircase that important visitors, like the senator, would use to get to the throne room. This staircase was reserved for the Keeper only. It was a direct line from the entrance hall to the throne room. It was a tight fit, too tight to use torches and allow a man to pass through. Holes were cut into the sides of the column to provide a little extra light from the entrance hall, but it was still very dark. The darkness didn’t bother Lepkin though, he knew the way well enough. He was just happy that it would shave a half hour off of the time it would take to reach the king.
When he reached the top he pulled an old, white rope. A bell on the outside of the column rang as the door to the exit slowly swung on its hinges to allow Master Lepkin to enter the throne room. He saw only a few dwarves, mostly advisors, and a handful of human escorts, presumably for the senator, in addition to the dwarf king and the senator before him.
“I thought I ordered for that door to be sealed shut,” the king bellowed.
One of the advisors stepped forward. He wore a blue robe with the sigil of a dragon engraven into the brooch he wore. “But, my king, that passage has been in use for centuries.”
“I don’t care,” the dwarf king said. His eyes locked Master Lepkin’s. “I am not as blind as my father’s were. I do not see the intrusion of a self-empowered human to be a good thing. I want that passageway sealed, and I want him escorted out.”
Lepkin stood rigid. Even with what Al had said about the king, Lepkin had not expected this. He watched as two palace guards approached. He put his hands on his hips, taking care to keep the sword visible on his belt. “The Keeper of Secrets has come to hold audience with the king of the dwarves, the chosen people of the Ancients. I will not be moved until my message is delivered.”
The guards stopped in their tracks and looked back to the king.
“I am not interested in your superstitions, Keeper. The Ancients are nothing more than fairy tales passed down through the ages to control the minds of the dwarf folk. As long as I am king, I will not allow this control to persist.”
“I am here to open your eyes,” Lepkin countered.
“The king of the dwarves does not answer to the likes of you, knight errant,” the senator shouted. “I am here to negotiate with his highness in these troubled times, and your presence is not going to make this an easy task for me. Be gone!”
“I do not answer to the senate, Senator Bracken,” Lepkin replied coolly. “As you are well aware, the law grants me a position of authority that is autonomous from that of the kingdom. If you have a problem with that, you may take it up with King Mathias, but I have a hunch that he’ll agree with me.”
“King Mathias is an old fool!” the dwarf king bellowed. He hopped down from his throne, war axe in hand and marched over toward Master Lepkin. Senator Bracken bowed humbly and backed away. The dwarf king stopped three paces away from Lepkin and glared at him. His fierce, coal-black eyes were filled with indignation. The veins in his forehead stuck out, pulsing with the rage that ran through his hot dwarven blood. “King Mathias has not the power to hold this realm together. He relies on old superstitions to do that for him, and look what it has brought him in return.” The dwarf king pointed his axe at Lepkin.
Lepkin stood motionless. His lips were silent. Only his eyes moved as they shifted their gaze around the room and then back to the king’s angry stare.
“The Ancients will not protect us. The kingdom falls apart. Nobles are tearing at each other’s throats as we speak, and that senator back there wants me to swear my armies to the senate to ensure the peace.” The dwarf king turned back to Senator Bracken and spat on the ground. “I will not march my armies out from Roegudok Hall. The humans started this mess, let them finish it. That is my final decision on the matter.”
Master Lepkin could see Senator Bracken’s face redden, but the man kept silent. Yet, he did not move to leave. The senator watched the drama unfold between Lepkin and the king of the dwarves. Lepkin felt something then as he regarded the senator. He wasn’t sure what it was. It was almost like a voice whispering to him that something about Bracken was wrong, but the feeling faded as quickly as it came. Lepkin turned back to the dwarf king as the head of the axe came wagging closer to his face.
“I have another decision,” the dwarf king said. “The Keeper is no longer to be allowed entry into Roegudok Hall. He is to be regarded as a manipulative agent of King Mathias.”
“But, my king,” the advisor protested from behind.
“Be silent,” the dwarf king roared. “I will not have my kind led astray anymore by the chains of slavery that are known to us as the ways of the Ancients. Go back and tell that to your king, Keeper! We dwarves will remain here. Let the armies of man come to us for a fight if they wish. Roegudok Hall has never fallen, nor will we ever again bow to the puppet masters back in the senate, or that false king sitting on his throne in Drakai Glazei.”
“Then, for the sake of your people, I pray that you do not live long as king,” Master Lepkin said. His words were loud enough for all to hear.
The rage boiled in the king’s black eyes. “Alferug Henezard, I no longer require advice in the ways of the Ancients. You are dismissed. Leave your robes on the floor.”
Master Lepkin painfully watched the old dwarf undo the dragon brooch and let the blue robes fall to the floor. Then the dwarf was escorted out of the hall by two other palace guards. “You are a fool,” Lepkin said. “There are forces now that search for Nagar’s Secret. They seek to gain its power and take over the whole of the realm. You must return to the ways of the Ancients.”
“Our halls will not fall to any invaders,” the king said.
“Your halls have held because the wisdom that was given to your people when they built this place. The tunnel was designed by the Ancients, not by you.” Lepkin stepped closer to the king and pushed the axe out of his face. “The dark magic of Nagar the Black and Tu’luh will sweep through your halls faster than sleep overtakes the night. I have come to ask that you renew your loyalty to the throne, and pledge your swords in defense of the kingdom.”
“Ah, so you have timed your visit to coincide with Senator Bracken’s.”
“No, my assignment is independent of his, but apparently the senate also senses the close danger. Will you honor your duties?”
“I do not bow to the kingdom of men. We are the dwarves of Roegudok Hall. Guards, escort these pathetic men out of my palace, and see to it that they do not even so much as turn their heads back to look at me.” All of the palace guards moved, albeit hesitantly, to fulfill the command.
“You have condemned yourself to death,” Master Lepkin
said. “I will let the shadows take you in their grasp. But, if you happen to survive through this, I will find you myself when this is all over and remove your stubborn head.” Master Lepkin pushed the king back and then looked to the guards. “I will see my own way out. If any of you lay a hand on me, I will see to it that you lose it.” With that, Lepkin walked to Senator Bracken and left with him and his assistants through the main halls to exit the palace.
The palace guard followed them en masse. Spears and axes were at the ready, but they kept their distance. They knew enough of Lepkin’s sword that they feared to test his threat.
Once they were all outside of the entrance tunnel a pair of palace guards spoke with the door guards. The door to the tunnel was sealed and the twin dwarves did their best to look menacing. Master Lepkin might have thought that it was funny, if not for the extreme sorrow he felt inside. He knew that there was nothing he could do to help the dwarf folk.
“I appreciate your attempt to save the negotiation,” Senator Bracken said as he climbed into his coach. Master Lepkin was surprised he had not noticed the coach before, but he figured that it had been put in one of the other stables that were around the side of the hill the tunnel was in. “It is a shame that it didn’t work.”
“I agree,” Master Lepkin said.
“Is it true that there are forces seeking the book?”
“It is,” Lepkin replied.
“I will have to inform the senate about this after I return from Lokton Manor then.”
Lepkin’s eyebrow shot up. “What business do you have there?”
“I have been assigned to conduct an investigation into a pair of murders. I am sorry, but I cannot divulge any more of the matter.”
Lepkin nodded knowingly and then leapt atop his horse. “Then, may the Gods bless your travels,” Lepkin offered.
“And may they keep you safe also,” Senator Bracken said with a smile.
Lepkin nodded and turned his horse south. Things were fragile enough without this kind of complication. He knew he needed to get to Erik before word of these murders did. He rode his horse hard for almost three hours. Sweat built up into lather on the animal, giving it a dark sheen as the sunlight struck it. Lepkin knew that he would have to rest his horse. It had gone beyond breathing hard and now little rivulets of blood were forming from its nostrils. In truth, he would be lucky if the horse would recover from the hard ride at all.
