“High King Mikahl.” Oarly jumped up and down calling out breathlessly. “High King Mikahl, we’ve breached the wall. The dwarves of Doon have cleared you a tunnel.”
Even though the hawkling latched onto his shoulder had him thinking of Hyden, and the field was littered with the corpses of thousands of honorable men, Mikahl couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“What?” Oarly asked indignantly with his hands on his hips.
“Just as when Queen Willa blew the Horn of Doon,” Mikahl chuckled and indicated the avenue that Claret had created for them. “You dwarves arrived a bit too late.”
Chapter Sixty
Four weeks later.
King Jarrek, leaning heavily on a crutch, stood next to the white marble colored form of Phen, and the wavering dwarf, Master Oarly. The three of them had stood similarly in support of each other a few days earlier during the long sad funeral held for all of the heroes who hadn’t survived. Brady Culvert, Master Amill, and a few thousand others had been honored that day, and the trio had drunk a toast to nearly every one of them.
Today wasn’t a sad sort of occasion, though. It was a celebration. High King Mikahl and Princess Rosa were being married.
Lord Gregory was standing formally beside the High King, both dressed proudly in the green and gold of Westland. Princess Rosa looked splendid in her sapphire and flame colored gown. Three little girls stood grinning in the shadow of Lady Trella on the Princess’s side of the platform.
An amphitheater had been erected by the dwarves just for the occasion. The wedding was taking place in the city of Oktin, just west of the Kahna River. Mikahl had chosen the location because it was equidistant from Lakeside in Westland and Xwarda in Highwander. A new era was about to begin, an era of hope, peace, and rebuilding. People had traveled from all across the realm to be a part it.
A new palace was already being designed. Oktin is where it would be built. By right of lineage, Princess Rosa was the true heir to Valleya, as well as Seaward. King Broderick, who was still enjoying the permanent hospitality of Queen Willa’s castle, had no heir, and wouldn’t be seeding one from the dungeon. Queen Rachel was his cousin by blood, and her daughter, Princess Rosa, would eventually assume the rule of both kingdoms. Dakahn was in limbo, but all of the overlords and lords who had sworn fealty to High King Mikahl and released their slaves were being unmolested and following the High King by choice. King Jarrek had already bent the knee for Wildermont, as had Queen Willa for Highwander. Thus the entire realm of men, save for the islands, had sworn allegiance to High King Mikahl and his bride.
On the great stage the dwarves had erected, Mikahl and Rosa were speaking their vows. Whoops of joy and happiness from thousands of women, and a few of the gathered men, swept across the crowd.
King Jarrek gave Queen Willa a leering smile, letting his half drunken eyes linger on her cleavage a little too long. She flushed and waved him away with the back of her hand, a pleased grin on her face. Her blue-skinned pixie advisor, Starkle, glared at Jarrek from her shoulder. In the past weeks she and King Jarrek had been seeing a lot of each other.
“ ‘Tis a shame Hyden Hawk’s not here for this,” Oarly whispered to Phen.
“Aye,” Phen agreed. “We’re still trying to figure it out.”
“You think the dragon was right? That he isn’t dead?” King Jarrek asked, after he peeled his eyes away from Willa.
Not far away, the High King was sealing his vows with a tender kiss.
“Aye,” Phen answered excitedly. “Before she left, Claret told me my lyna is alive too. We just don’t know where they are.”
“Why did he go into the Nethers?” Jarrek asked as cheers erupted through the crowd and people started moving about them.
“He had to.” Phen was forced to raise his voice over the growing sound of the celebration. The ceremony was over. The High King and Rosa were wed.
Phen and King Jarrek followed Oarly to a wine cask at the end of a long table that was laid out with all sorts of delicacies. Phen tried to ignore the looks the people gave him, the curious stares, wide eyes, and wrinkled noses. “Imagine how the battle would have ended if Gerar... the Dark Lord, had managed to escape the Nethers. If he had, legions of devils, and other things, might have been loosed. Not even Claret could defeat such an army.”
“Quit staring at him,” Oarly barked at a group of folk trying to get at the wine. “Haven’t you ever seen a marble boy before?”
The people hurried quickly away from the disgruntled dwarf.
Phen punched Oarly in the arm. “Quit calling me a marble boy.”
“By Doon, lad, that’s a rock hard fist you got there.” Oarly rubbed at his shoulder. Phen growled in response.
“Claret said that there is a restorative pool high up in the Giant Mountains that might make my pigments come back,” Phen told them. “As soon as things get settled I’m going there.”
“You’re lucky your mind is still your own, Phen,” Master Sholt said, as he joined the group. “A few more days, and even the dragon’s powerful magic wouldn’t have been able to turn you back from stone.”
“Looking like you’re still made of marble can’t be all that bad,” Oarly said.
“Aye,” Phen nodded. “Has anyone seen Talon? I haven’t seen the blasted bird for two or three days.”
No one had.
“How’s the new Locar Bridge coming?” Master Sholt asked King Jarrek, but Oarly answered.
“It would be going up a lot faster if that fargin breed giant would stand back and let my kin folk work,” Oarly growled then took a long swig from his cup.
“Bzorch is very concerned with his new responsibility,” King Jarrek said. “If he can keep his primal instincts in check, he’ll make a great bridge master. His people have just about run the skeeks out of Westland for the High King, and I think Mik is starting to feel at ease with them.”
“Bah,” Oarly barked, and filled his cup from the cask again. “Fargin luggers.”
“So how is it going to work now?” Phen asked. “If Mikahl is the king of the whole realm, and all the kingdoms are to be dissolved into one, where does that leave you, and Queen Willa, and Queen Rachel? What will happen to your lands?”
“We’re still working that out,” Jarrek answer truthfully. “But I think the kingdoms will remain as they are; the rulers as well, save for Dakahn. We will all just have to consult with King Mikahl before doing anything drastic.”
Just then, Lord Northall from the Isle of Salazar came up to the group. He tried, but couldn’t manage, to keep from staring at Phen’s stark appearance.
Phen huffed in frustration and embarrassment. Oarly laughed at him.
“You’re looking better,” Master Sholt told the island lord. “Better food, and sunlight, no doubt.”
“No doubt,” Northall grinned. He had spent nearly two weeks in Ra’Gren’s dungeon. The last five days he hadn’t been fed at all because the dungeon guards had fled with most of the other palace staff. They hadn’t wanted to be eaten by the dragon, or caught by King Jarrek or the High King’s soldiers.
“How is Castlemont coming along?” Lord Northall asked.
“The dwarves, under General Diamondeen, appear to be making short work of cleaning up and rebuilding the city,” Jarrek said, showing the reverence he felt for the dwarves’ efforts. “You’ll be glad to hear that two more mines are up and producing ore. We owe you a lot. What you did was kind and generous.”
“It was more Hyden Hawk’s doing than anyone’s,” Lord Northall admitted. “I’m not sure I understand his current situation, but I’ve never met a more selfless wizard.”
“You’ll be attending the feast later?”
“I will,” Northall answered proudly. “It’s no small honor to be invited to feast at the table of men such as yourselves.”
Suddenly, a collective gasp sounded from the crowd.
“Who let the breed giant get drunk?” King Jarrek asked as he hobbled off on his crutch to try and ave
rt disaster.
“We’d better go help him,” Phen said to the others, but Master Sholt and Master Oarly were already starting after the Red Wolf King, leaving Phen to have to hurry to catch up.
***
Two sets of crimson eyes cautiously approached the huge petrified form of Deezlxar. The imposing shape still filled the beings with a chill of the power that the one-time ruler of hell once exuded. They weren’t exactly sure why they had come to this place. A force that was greater than their own will had lured them here. They had no idea why they couldn’t resist, but they couldn’t.
Before long, a flock of wyverns came flapping noisily down into the blackness. The skitter and scuffle of many things, both great and small, filled the empty void around the bulky stone form. Deezlxar’s remaining dragon head loomed up high over them all. Each and every one of the demons and devils being drawn to the scene expected it to come roaring to life at any moment. Heavier wings snapped and thumped into the air as hellcats, Choska demons, and other malformed monstrosities joined the gathering mass of hell-born entities. Soon, the great expanse was filled with thousands upon thousands of dark terrifying creatures. They milled about curiously, fearfully fighting their instincts to maul one another and claim territory. None of them knew why they were gathered there.
Just when things were getting restless and some of the creatures were growing brave enough to peck and growl at the things around them, a great cracking sound filled the Nethers. Slowly, like a great tree being felled, the last neck and head of Deezlxar started on an arc downward. Most of the things cleared out from under it as it came crashing over to the floor, but a few hadn’t been paying attention, or weren’t fast enough. They were crushed under dusty scree and shattering stone.
All eyes were transfixed by the shattered head of their longtime master. Murmurs of curiosity and disbelief started working through the gathering, but soon something else commanded their attention.
A vibration, deep and powerful, started to hum around them. The sound seemed to be coming from Deezlxar’s fat, spider-like body. The sensation grew in volume and intensity. The demons and devils closest to the stone corpse backed away fearfully. Some were lucky enough to have gotten away, others were not.
The deep thrumming vibration began working through the floor. This was something that had never happened before, for the brimstone planes of hell were immobile. The body of Deezlxar began to rattle heavily. First one crack, then another split across its mass. Then, in an explosive wave, the stone form exploded, sending jagged chunks and sharp pieces flying outward into the masses. Some of the beasts were shredded by shrapnel, and others were crushed by huge pieces of falling debris, but none of them fled. They could not. The grip the new Lord of Hell had on them was absolute.
As he lay pinned under the huge mass of stone, the power of Deezlxar found its way into the thing that had once been Gerard. Slowly, his strength returned, only now he understood everything. The malformed dragon-blooded monster rose up out of the rubble in a rage, and spread his great wings. Then Gerard let out a roaring blast of hellfire so terrifying that even the most evil of demons felt their skin crawl with fear.
“I am the Warlord! I am the Master of Hell and Earth,” the new Abbadon challenged them blatantly. “Kneel before me now, or meet your end!”
***
The small council hall in Oktin seemed more appropriate for a family feast than a gathering of the realm’s kings, queens, and heroes. There were no great chandeliers overhead, no golden dinnerware or jeweled flagons. There was no polished hardwood table, and there were no thrones, or even cushioned chairs. A pair of old table boards had been pushed together, and seated on the hard benches that went with them was nearly all of the realm’s royalty. On one side sat King Jarrek, Queen Willa, Queen Rachel, the Lion Lord, his wife, and General Spyra. On the other side sat General Diamondeen, Commander Escott, and Master Sholt with Oarly, Phen and Captain Trant. At the head of the table sat High King Mikahl and his new queen, side by side on a divan. At the opposite end of the board sat the huge form of Lord Bzorch, the sole breed giant attending the feast.
Toast after toast was made, to the hope of the future, to the dream of peace and prosperity. Master Biggs stepped in, even though he wasn’t of such rank, but no one minded him joining them for a while. Greasy fingers, boisterous laughter, and general joy was the theme of the evening. Even the normally perfect and ladylike etiquette of Queen Rachel and Lady Trella was breached.
The Queen of Seaward had a gravy stain on her bosom the size of an apple, and Lady Trella laughed so hard that she snorted wine out of her nose when Master Oarly recounted the tale of Sir Hyden Hawk, the squat weed, and the cinder pepper.
After that, Mikahl told the tale of Lord Gregory, and his encounter with squat weed after being poisoned by Pael’s imp.
Before long, it seemed as if a bunch of barbarians and bar wenches had decided to play dress up in a tavern. Uproarious tales were told, and more than a little frolicking took place amongst the lovers. Even General Spyra’s mood seemed to be on the upside of things. But then a young soldier came bursting into the room, all breathless and brimming with news. The room fell silent as everybody took him in.
“My lords, and ladies,” he said mostly to the High King. “There is something out here I think you should see.” The young man looked worried and confused, but not afraid. “The message said that it should be presented to the High King personally.”
Mikahl, feeling more than a little concerned now, stood and gave his wife a kiss on the forehead before making his way around the table to see what the boy was talking about. The others, at least the ones who were sober enough to follow, were right behind him.
When Mikahl stepped out into the evening breeze a shock of emotion came over him like nothing he had ever felt before. “Windfoot!” he yelled as he started toward the horse that his father had given him.
Lord Gregory smiled knowingly. Lady Trella and the rest of the guests who had come outside looked at each other with perplexed expressions. It was obvious that the High King was glad to see the horse, but none of them could figure out why there was a short stubby boot strapped to the saddle.
Phen saw it, and was filled with immediate relief. “Look Oarly,” he pointed. “That’s the boot of yours that Hyden vanished.”
“Aye, lad, it is,” the dwarf said with wide-eyed wonder as he looked drunkenly at the boot, then back at Phen. “Does this mean...?”
“Wait, wait,” Mikahl said over them all, as he peered into the boot. “There’s something in there.”
Suddenly the quill-covered head of a small cat-like creature popped up out of the boot and looked around. Phen’s mouth fell open.
“Spike,” he yelled as he ran to greet his familiar. “It’s true, Oarly. It’s true,” he answered the dwarf’s unfinished question.
Oarly, Phen, and the High King were overcome with more relief than they thought was imaginable. The others caught on to the contagious emotion, even though they weren’t sure what the new reason to celebrate was. It didn’t matter, though. For the time being, hope was plentiful and all was well.
Those things alone are most always worth celebrating.
The End of Book Two
Coming soon:
The Wardstone Trilogy-Book III, The Wizard and the Warlord, brings the elves, dwarves, giants, and the dragons into the story again as our heroes, led by High King Mikahl and the great wizard Hyden Hawk, are forced to fight for the fate of the Kingdoms. The powerful creature that Gerard Skyler has become wants free and the powerful legions of wicked demon-beasts he commands are ready to battle till the end. The third of this masterful trilogy will deliver, as the powers of good and evil collide in a conclusion that will leave you breathless.
Other novels available now by M. R. Mathias:
The Sword and the Dragon (The Wardstone Trilogy Book One)
The Royal Dragoneers (Saga of the Dragoneers Part 1)
The First Dragoneer (A novella)
/> The Adventurion (A Young Adult sci-fi thrillride)
The Butcher’s Boy by Michael Robb Mathias
Find out more about the author, his fantasy short story collections, and lots of free reads at: The Wardstone Trilogy / M. R. Mathias homepage: http://www.mrmathias.com/
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