Tales from the New Earth: Volume Two

by J. J. Thompson

  “Oh crap. Come on, let's move!”

  The trio hurried down the slope, the elementals keeping pace with Simon. Aeris led the way and Kronk stayed at the rear, keeping an eye on their enemies.

  “Thank the Four Winds that they cannot run,” Aeris said as he looked back up the road. “There are more of them than I thought.”

  “Yeah,” Simon panted. “Slow is good. I keep feeling like I'm in the middle of some cheesy zombie apocalypse movie. Maybe I should start beating those bastards over their heads with a shovel.”

  The air elemental looked at him with a frown.

  “I have no idea what you are talking about, but as long as you aren't panicking, I suppose that's the important thing.”

  Simon fought back the urge to laugh; he needed to save his breath for the race, even if it was in slow motion.

  “I think we are fortunate that no wraiths are leading those undead monsters, master,” Kronk spoke up from behind them. “They are very fast and quite clever; unlike those shambling piles of bones behind us.”

  “You're right. I'm not sure how the wraiths are created but they seem quite rare. Fortunately for us.”

  The road ahead entered the maze of jumbled walls and archways. Simon was grateful that his light globe was still dutifully following along, illuminating their path.

  They walked through a soaring arch and turned to the right. The road seemed to twist and turn like a snake as it made its way toward Kingstone and Simon found it very confusing, not to mention exhausting.

  “What's with the convoluted path?” he asked Aeris as the road dipped down and went left. “Wouldn't it have been easier to just make a straight road from the edge of the cavern to the city?”

  “Security, my dear wizard,” Aeris said as he flew ahead, his body glowing in the darkness. “The dwarves' enemies can be easily contained and attacked in this maze-like area.”

  He pointed up. Above them, the ceiling of the cavern soared so high that it was lost in the gloom.

  “They intentionally left this section of the road uncovered so that all enemies must travel the path and not climb above it. It is a brilliant bit of engineering.”

  They walked on. They had lost sight of the undead as soon as they'd entered the maze and now they couldn't hear them either.

  “Are we getting farther ahead of the horde or does this whole place muffle sound?” Simon wondered.

  “The latter I should think,” Aeris replied. “Notice our voices as we speak? They aren't echoing the way they did back in the tunnels. The dwarves have managed to dampen sound here somehow. Fascinating.”

  Several more twists and turns finally brought them to a straight stretch of road. The final run to the city, perhaps.

  They followed the path for several more minutes until a distant flicker appeared in the distance. They slowed down and Simon peered into the gloom.

  He could see torches twinkling about a hundred yards ahead and felt a wave of relief wash over him.

  “Guys, we made it!” he exclaimed as the trio stopped to look at the distant city walls. “Just a few more minutes and we'll be safe.”

  “You will be safe, my dear wizard,” Aeris corrected him. “As I said earlier, Kronk and I would face a much different fate should we accompany you any further.”

  Simon leaned on his staff wearily, his legs quivering. He stared at the elementals in confusion as he tried to catch his breath.

  “What are you talking about? Come on, we have to get to the city before those undead bastards catch up.”

  “I am sorry, master,” Kronk said gently as he stared up at the wizard, “but Aeris is correct. Elementals are forbidden in the cities of the dwarves. We know it and they know it. If we should approach too closely, it is quite possible that we would be attacked.”

  He looked forlornly at the distant torches.

  “And dwarves know how to destroy elementals, I'm afraid. Forgive us, master, but we can go no further.”

  “But....but what about the undead? If we split up, you'll be attacked.”

  Aeris snorted with laughter.

  “Your brain must be addled with fatigue, my dear wizard, to think that. Kronk will travel through the rock and I will simply vanish. I can fly above the vermin back to the main tunnel and then follow it up. Once back on the surface away from the dampening power of the deep stone, we can return to the tower instantly, thanks to your graciously giving us permission to do so.”

  Simon looked from the small blocky face of Kronk to the semi-transparent visage of Aeris and then smiled weakly in relief.

  “Crap. I forgot that the only really vulnerable one in this group is little ol' me. I think I'll agree with you, Aeris, and chalk it up to exhaustion rather than to just being dumb.”

  The air elemental grinned widely.

  “Oh, you can call it the latter if you want to. I have no problem with that.”

  “Thanks,” Simon said dryly. “Okay then. You two head home. I should be safe enough walking from here to those torches. Watch over the tower for me until I get back, won't you?”

  “Of course we will. Kronk's a mother hen, you know that. It will be fine. Who knows? Perhaps some of my people will have reported back in by the time you get home.”

  “Hmm, maybe. I actually doubt that any of them will return for months. Anyway, we'll talk about it when I get back. Be careful heading home, guys. We know that the undead aren't the only dangers down here.”

  “Thank you, master. We will be fine.”

  Kronk stepped closer and lowered his voice and Simon bent down to hear him.

  “Watch the dwarves, master,” the earthen whispered. “Their king may be your friend, but in the end he serves his peoples' best interests, not yours. Only trust him as far as you must.”

  Simon stood up with an appreciative smile.

  “I know, my friend. I know. The only people that I trust implicitly in this world, now that Daniel is gone, are you two. Now get going; the undead can't be far behind.”

  Kronk bowed and sank into the solid rock of the road, disappearing from sight.

  Aeris was no longer smiling. Instead, he gave Simon a solemn salute and shot straight up, fading and then vanishing in the distance.

  “Okay Simon,” the wizard said to himself as he started to walk toward the city. “You're alone again. Try not to do anything stupid.”

  Chapter 13

  The wizard hurried toward the flickering points of light that were the torches at the city gates. He'd underestimated the distance in the gloom and no matter how fast he trudged, the walls didn't seem to be getting any closer.

  Worse still, Simon began to hear the distant dry sounds of the undead as they dragged their bony feel over the ground. They were relentless and could chase him forever, while his energy was quickly being used up.

  Shouldn't there be a patrol out here or something, he wondered. After all, the dwarves are the targets of the dark gods as much as we humans are.

  The maze fell away behind him and Simon found himself on open ground with a straight path to the towering double gates of Kingstone. He was surprised by the sudden transition and staggered to a stop to get his bearings.

  Behind him, the deep road entered the twisted barrier of rock that he'd just passed through, while all around him was flat and featureless.

  It's a killing ground, he realized.

  It sent a chill quivering down his back.

  The dwarves on the high walls had a clear view all around their city of any enemies approaching and could attack them at a distance, before they even got close enough to be a threat.

  Could they see him? Of course they could.

  Simon hesitated for an instant, but the sound of pursuit was growing louder and he realized that he was out of options. He would have to trust that the sentries could tell friend from foe; and that they considered him a friend.

  He stumbled forward again, using Mortis de Draconis to push himself along at a frantic, hobbling pace.

  He was no
more than a hundred feet from the gates when his globe of light was snuffed out in a loud poof of air. Simon almost tripped in surprise but forced himself to stagger on.

  It was the ward against magic, of course. He remembered his last visit to the dwarven city and the dampening field that had prevented him from using his powers. Obviously the same protections still extended around the capital.

  Great. Now I really am powerless.

  “Hold, human!” a gruff voice cried from atop the wall next to the gate. “Come no further!”

  Simon stumbled to a halt. He was now sweating and gasping so loudly that they must have heard him all the way from the top of the wall.

  “State your business here.”

  The wizard breathed deeply, trying to find enough air to reply.

  “My business?” he called up to the unseen watcher. “I'm here to see my friend, Shandon Ironhand. My name is Simon O'Toole. I was a guest of the king a few years ago.”

  There was a long silence and Simon turned to look back along the road.

  “Excuse me,” he shouted. “But there are a few hundred undead monsters behind me. Shouldn't you be doing something about them?”

  “It is already done, wizard,” the watcher replied sternly. “We waited for you to exit the tunnel before dealing with them.”

  “Wizard? Then you know who I am?”

  “I know who you say you are. The king will determine if your words are true. Be patient; a message has been sent to the palace.”

  Simon stood in the silent darkness for a moment and then folded his legs carefully and sat down on the hard stone. If he had to wait for Shandon, he might as well take the opportunity to get a little rest.

  He rubbed his legs and sighed as they throbbed under his fingers.

  Oh, I'll be sore in the morning, he thought ruefully. I wish the dwarves had told me that they had destroyed the horde. I could have at least slowed down a bit.

  He was so thirsty, his mouth felt like it was coated with dust. He spared a thought for his lost pack and hoped that he wouldn't have to wait too long for the king to verify his identity.

  Simon stood up slowly a few minutes later, his knees creaking like those of an old man. The gates had boomed and shook the ground from where he waited fifty feet away and he decided not to be caught sitting down. He wondered why the massive portal would be opening now. There was a small entrance off to the side that he had used when he had left before and he was surprised that they wouldn't just use that.

  The towering iron gate swung inward with a rumble and light blazed from inside the city. A lone figure silhouetted against the glow beckoned to Simon and he walked toward it carefully, afraid that his legs might buckle from fatigue.

  Behind the short, armored figure, two torch-bearers stood supplying light. They were simple workers, wearing tunics and leather aprons, the symbols of the tradesman class. There were no other dwarves in sight.

  Simon kept walking until he was a few yards away from the waiting dwarf. He could finally see the warrior's face and was surprised to realize that it wasn't Shandon Ironhand.

  Instead, the helmeted dwarf was a much older person. Deep lines criss-crossed his face, as well as several battle scars. What little hair Simon could see beneath his helmet and cowl was as white as snow, but the dwarf stood straight and proud, a large axe dangling from his hip.

  “Welcome, Simon O'Toole,” the dwarf said as he banged his mailed fist against his chest. “I am Ragar Blackrock, seneschal to his highness, King Shandon Ironhand. Welcome back to Kingstone.”

  “Err, hi. I'm pleased to meet you,” Simon replied, a little confused. “I'm sorry, but I thought that maybe the king would be here.”

  Ragar glowered at him.

  “His highness is a busy dwarf, sir wizard. When the message came that you had arrived, he asked me to welcome you. Things are a little...hectic in the city at the moment and the king is otherwise occupied.”

  “Oh, of course,” Simon said quickly as he realized how arrogant his statement might have sounded. “I didn't mean to imply that I thought Shandon should drop everything just to greet me. I know I'm not that important.”

  The seneschal looked him up and down and thawed slightly.

  “I understand. You have walked far to reach Kingstone and I can see how weary you are. Sometimes we misspeak when we are fatigued. Please follow me. I have arranged for some refreshment and a room for you. You can recover from your journey and the king will summon you as soon as he has the time.”

  Simon put his palm on his chest the way he'd been taught and bowed slightly.

  “I am honored by your greeting,” he said, correctly this time. “The dwarves are well known for their hospitality.”

  Actually they weren't, the wizard thought to himself. But they did love the niceties.

  This time Ragar actually looked pleased and he returned the courtesy. A clatter of metal from behind him made the dwarf turn abruptly and he motioned Simon to the side of the gate.

  “The watch is changing,” he said as a troop of armored dwarves marched past, heading out into the darkness. “The last shift took care of those undead marauders that had been chasing you and I am sure that they will be pleased to be relieved.”

  So that's why the main gate had opened, Simon thought with some humor. It wasn't for the great wizard after all. Well, that's a relief.

  “Now let us go. I can see you are in some discomfort,” Ragar said considerately. “Follow me please.”

  They made their way into the city, passing scores of armed guards going about their business. Ragar was saluted politely by many of the warriors, and Simon received some curious looks.

  He watched carefully but saw no hostile reactions to his presence. It's true that many of the dwarves appeared cool to seeing a human in their midst dressed in robes, but he saw no anger or irritation.

  Maybe they're just polite, he thought. Or maybe they simply don't care one way or the other. That's probably closer to the truth.

  Once they had passed through the troops guarding the perimeter of the city, Ragar guided Simon along several wide avenues and down a narrow side street to what appeared to be an inn of some sort.

  The heavy iron sign hanging over the entrance was inlaid with glowing dwarven symbols but the wizard couldn't read them and simply followed the seneschal into the building.

  Inside, the building was richly decorated in bright colors. Blue seemed to be the predominant hue; dark blue on the walls and ceiling.

  Many heavy pieces of furniture were visible from the entrance and gave the inn a homey, welcoming appearance. Some sort of incense was burning and it reminded Simon of the smell of sandalwood. It was very soothing.

  A dwarven matron greeted them politely. She was wearing a long blue dress and her gray hair hung down her back in a long braid. She bowed to Ragar and smiled at Simon.

  “Sir wizard, this is Orrina. Her inn is one of the city's best and her services are highly regarded by the king.”

  “And,” the woman spoke up boldly, “I speak your language quite well, also thanks to Shandon. Not many of our people do.”

  She stared at Ragar in amusement.

  “Must you always be so stuffy? Shandon is the king, yes, but he is also a plain-spoken person. He doesn't give himself airs. Plus he's a friend to many, including the three of us here. So ease up a bit and don't let your position go to your head, seneschal,” she added with a shake of her finger.

  Ragar looked uncomfortable and gave Simon a quick glance.

  “Orrina, while I am on duty, I must maintain the proper formality, as you well know. Now, sir wizard, the king invites you to remain here, to rest and regain your strength. He will send for you when he can. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Simon shook his head and thanked the dwarf profusely for his time.

  “Not at all, not at all,” Ragar replied a bit pompously. “All in a day's work. I am sure that we will meet again soon.”

  He took his leave and hurr
ied out the door, appearing to be in a rush. Once the door had closed behind him, Orrina laughed gently.

  “I remember him as a child, always so ambitious, wanting to do his father proud,” she told Simon. “Well, he'd reached the heights now. Let us see how long he survives in that rarefied air.”

  She led Simon through the entrance way into the main room and sat him down on an enormous leather couch.

  “Now rest there for a bit and I'll get you something,” she told him “You look about done in. Won't be but a moment.”

  And she zipped out of sight before Simon could even thank her.

  He leaned his staff against the side of the couch and took a moment to slip off his boots. He didn't know if it was proper etiquette but his feet were throbbing and very sore.

  It was such a relief to get his boots off that he let out a long breath and just slumped back into the couch, closing his eyes.

  Well, I've made it this far in one piece, he thought as he let his mind drift. I hope Kronk and Aeris are all right. It's a relief to know that the dwarves took care of that undead army, so that's one less threat. For now.

  “Here we are,” Orrina said as she re-entered the room

  Simon opened his eyes and sat up blearily. He must have dozed off for a second.

  The matron had just brought in a silver tray loaded down with plates and put it down on a small but heavy-looking table. She then lifted both table and tray and easily brought them across the room and put them down in front of the couch, reminding Simon that even dwarven females were incredibly strong.

  “Oh, thanks so much,” the wizard said. “Sorry, I may have drifted off there.”

  “I'm not surprised, young man. You're as pale as cheese. Here now, get something into you. There's cold water to start; you must be thirsty. And fruit juice after that. You've been with us before, I know, so you won't be surprised that we grow our own fruits and vegetables.”

  Simon smiled at her.

  “I'm not. I was at the time though. And that you raised animals down here for meat and cheese as well. Somehow such a thing had never occurred to me.”

  He poured a glass of water from a tall beaker and drank it down. The relief on his parched mouth and tongue was amazing. He poured a second glass and sipped on it.