by D. A. Adams
“I’m going to see Krondious and make sure he’s okay,” he said, moving for the door.
“Want me to come, too?”
“Will you wait here and come get me if he calls?”
“Sure, Pepper Beard. Relax, okay. Your father’s just. He’ll listen.”
“He believes in the law,” Roskin said, stopping at the door. “I just hope he accepts my offer to the exiles as legal.”
With that, Roskin opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He asked his attendant if he knew where Krondious was being held, and the young Kiredurk nodded. Roskin motioned for him to show the way, and the attendant led Roskin to a stairway at the end of the hall and said that Krondious was down the stairs and to the right. Roskin thanked him and told the timid dwarf to see if Bordorn needed anything. After living as a slave and a foot soldier, Roskin found it hard readjusting to having someone to care for him. He missed the open sky at night and a breeze in his beard.
The makeshift palace was the home of a successful merchant who had volunteered to let the king lodge here during the war. The house was 500 years old and had been carved from the mountain. Over the years many steel beams had been installed to bolster its soundness, and it had been refinished dozens of times to improve its aesthetics. The merchant’s husband had also spent the last two decades refurnishing the place to make it appear more like the modern buildings of Dorkhun.
Roskin started down the stairs and adjusted from the well-lighted hallway to the dimly-lighted lower level. At the bottom, another hallway split in each direction, so he turned right and moved towards the sounds of muffled voices. A few yards ahead, a thick, wooden door was shut and locked. He banged on the door, and after a moment, the latch lifted and the door groaned open. Krondious was chained to the far wall, his arms above his head and his toes barely touching the floor. His left eye was swollen shut, and his white beard was stained with blood from his nose and mouth. As Roskin entered, the guards stifled their laughter and wouldn’t look at him. Roskin stood near the doorway and checked his temper. He shook with anger and clenched his fists.
“He fell down the stairs,” one of the guards muttered. The others chuckled to themselves.
“Unchain him, now,” Roskin growled.
“We’ve got our orders,” the lieutenant said, still not looking at Roskin. “From the king.”
Roskin stepped as close to the lieutenant as he could and stared down at him. After a few heartbeats, the dwarf looked up.
“You have new orders,” Roskin said, his voice cold and flat against the stone walls.
“With all due respect...”
“Who do you think the king will believe?” Roskin interrupted. “Do it, right now.”
The lieutenant nodded to one of the other guards, who pulled a set of keys from a leather wallet on his belt. He stepped to just within arm’s reach of Krondious and froze. The guard turned to Roskin and started to speak.
“Krondious,” Roskin said, cutting off the terrified guard. “Don’t hurt him.”
“Yes, sir,” Krondious responded.
“Don’t kill him, either,” Roskin added.
Krondious frowned but nodded in agreement.
The guard stepped a little closer and, his hands trembling, reached to unfasten the chain on Krondious’s left arm. From the shaking, it took three tries to work the lock, but he finally managed. The entire time, Krondious stood still, staring ahead without blinking. The guard unchained his legs and darted back to the others.
“Get him a chair,” Roskin barked. “And someone go get a healer. If I have to ask again, it won’t be nice.”
Two guards bolted from the room, and Roskin walked into the middle of the rest. As he neared them, one by one, they stepped back.
“If he gets even so much as a flea bite while he’s here, I’ll personally take care of each of you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” a couple of guards said.
“Do you understand?” Roskin said, his voice barely a whisper behind gritted teeth.
“Yes, sir,” they all responded.
A moment later, one of the guards returned with a chair, and Krondious sat down, rubbing his shoulders and moving his arms to release the stiffness from having been suspended.
“Sit tight, my friend,” Roskin said. “You’ll be out of here soon.”
“Thanks,” Krondious responded.
“I’m sorry. I’ll make this up to you.”
“I knew the risk.”
“It’s not right.”
“Lots of things aren’t right, but I still serve you.”
“You’re my friend, Krondious, not my servant.”
Krondious smiled and held out his hand. They shook hands and made eye contact. Roskin nodded slightly, and Krondious returned the gesture. Then, Roskin turned and stormed from the room. He rushed up the stairs, not slowing when his attendant spoke to him, and charged to the chamber where his father and Master Sondious were having another heated argument. Roskin slammed open the door and stormed to his father. The two dwarves stopped mid-sentence and stared at him.
“How could you?” Roskin shouted.
The king leaned back in his seat, the shock on his face obvious.
“How could you?” Roskin repeated, leaning closer.
“Son, this is highly indecent.”
“Answer me!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You told those goons to rough him up.”
“What?” Master Sondious asked, motioning for his attendant.
“I did no such thing!” the king said, his voice rising an octave.
“They said you ordered him chained, and he’s been beaten up.”
“This is too much,” Master Sondious said. “Take me to my room.”
“Roskin, I didn’t order that.”
“You will regret this,” Master Sondious said as his attendant wheeled him from the room.
“Then, why was he suspended from the ground and beaten bloody?” Roskin asked, ignoring the special advisor.
“I told them to restrain him, but I never said hurt him. They’ll be punished.”
“He shouldn’t be treated this way,” Roskin said. “He risked his life for me.”
“Do you trust him, son?”
“Without question.”
The king leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. His brown beard, sprinkled with gray, spread across the table. He thought for a moment and then looked at his son.
“He did some terrible things.”
“Yes, sir, he did. But he was a misfit here. He’s a warrior at heart, like me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was a misfit, too. That’s why I always got into trouble. I had no outlet. It would’ve only been a matter of time before I did something like he did.”
“I see,” King Kraganere said, standing and facing his son.
“He wants to serve as my bodyguard, and I believe he would defend me with his life.”
King Kraganere embraced his son and held him tightly. Roskin hesitated but returned the hug.
“You’ve grown so much,” the king said. “I’m proud of how thick your beard is now.”
Roskin buried his face in his father’s shoulder and fought against his tears. Many times in the leisure slave cage, he had feared he would never see home again. The two dwarves, father and son, stood like that for several moments. Finally, the king let go and leaned back from his son.
“You’ll be a good king.”
“Will you pardon him?”
“Yes, that’s just.”
“Thank you, sir. I mean Dad.”
“I need to finish these documents,” King Kraganere said, waving his hand over the parchments strewn across the table. “Please, send Master Sondious back in here.”
King Kraganere sat down and focused on his duties, and Roskin left the room. He went to his attendant and asked where Master Sondious’s bedroom was, and the attendant led him to
a room near the front of the house. The door was wide open, but when Roskin stepped inside, no one was there. Most of Master Sondious’s personal effects were still there, but as Roskin scanned the room, he saw that several things had been displaced, as if someone had grabbed specific items hurriedly, making a mess in the process. Roskin left and walked to the front door, where a pair of guards stood at attention.
“Have either of you seen Master Sondious?” he asked.
“He left the house not long ago,” one said, her voice detached. Roskin saw in her eyes she had spent time at the front.
“Where did he go? The king needs him.”
“I heard something about the stable.”
“Thanks,” Roskin said. “If he comes back before I find him, tell him my father is looking for him.”
Roskin walked across town to the stable. He remembered much of this area from his time mapping was surprised by how easily he found it. More than a couple of years had passed since he had been here, but the details of the place were as fresh in his mind as if he had just finished his rite of passage. He found a dwarf grooming a horse and asked if Master Sondious had been there.
“Just left in a carriage,” the old dwarf said, not looking up. Roskin recognized him as the chief stable-hand from Dorkhun. “He ain’t been the same since his accident.”
“What do you mean?”
“He used to be soft-spoken and kind. Now, all he does is bark orders and snap at folks.”
“Where was he heading?”
“Back to Dorkhun, I reckon. Told me to mind my own business when I asked.”
“Why do you think Dorkhun?”
“Said something to his attendant about the Hall of Gronwheil.”
“You’re certain?”
“My lord, I’ve served as the king’s stable-hand for many years, and I don’t tell nothing unless I’m sure.”
“Thank you,” Roskin said, turning to leave.
“It’s good you’re back,” the stable-hand called to him. “The king’s been worried about you something awful.”
“Thank you, again,” Roskin said, stopping and wheeling back around. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Maybe you can help fix this mess we’re in.”
Roskin nodded his understanding.
“We need peace.”
With that, the old dwarf went back to his grooming, and Roskin headed to the house. At the front door, he asked the guards if Master Sondious had returned, and both shook their heads. Inside him, the dark fear stirred, a feeling he hadn’t felt in some time, and the familiarity of it was eerie. Briefly, the image of Dorkhun in ruins came to him, buildings crumbling, fires burning, and people crying out. He turned and faced west, focusing on the vision as Kwarck had advised, but the image faded as quickly as it had come. He muttered to himself and entered the house, walking to his father’s chamber.
“Where’s Master Sondious?” the king asked, looking up.
“He left,” Roskin said, sitting beside his father.
“Left? We have work to do!”
“Sir, something’s not right.”
“What’s wrong, son?”
Roskin wanted to explain about the dark fear, wanted to describe what he had seen, wanted to tell what Kwarck had told him about the elfish gift of intuition. Instead, he shrugged and stared at his father silently.
“Roskin, I know you’ve suffered something I can’t really understand. It’s on your face and in your eyes, but please know, you can tell me anything.”
“Thank you, sir, uh, Dad.”
“What’s not right?”
“Master Sondious has left for Dorkhun. I have a very bad feeling about it.”
“He’s changed, son. The ogres hurt him, and he’s not the same dwarf anymore.”
“He’s up to something,” Roskin said. “I don’t know what, but it’s not good.”
“Let’s get this truce finished, and we’ll go home and deal with him. Will you help me?”
“Of course,” Roskin said, surprised by the question. He hadn’t finished his formal education and hadn’t spent any time on the council to learn about such matters.
“I’ve ordered ten wagons filled with food and two more with gold and gems as a sign of our goodwill. In return, the ogres are to retreat across the Ganheren River. We’ll also help them transport their dead back for burial. Finally, if they have need for more food in the next six moons, we’ll supply as much as we can spare.”
“Sounds very generous,” Roskin said, stroking his beard. “What’s the problem?”
“The ogres are happy with the food and gold, but they don’t want to retreat. They feel as if they deserve to have the lands up to the gate, too. They want to bury their dead here.”
“What did Master Sondious propose?”
“He’s full of venom. He wants to drive them across the river and not give them anything.”
“Could we offer a compromise?” Roskin asked.
“I’m listening.”
“I saw the scene at the gate. We’ve both lost a lot on that ground. Could we develop a cemetery for both races and share the responsibility of tending it? We could give them a good sized plot for their dead and provide the materials for whatever kind of monument they want to erect.”
“I like it. If they will agree to that and retreat across the river, I like it a lot.”
“This is all my fault,” Roskin said, hanging his head.
“No, son. You made some mistakes, but you didn’t do all of this by yourself. We all made a lot of bad decisions that got out of control. This thing had a life of its own.”
Roskin nodded but continued to look down.
“Go have supper. Let me write up your suggestions, and then, we’ll deal with the Butcher.”
“Krondious,” Roskin corrected.
“Yes, Krondious. Forgive me.”
“Thank you for listening to me about him.”
Roskin rose from his seat and crossed the room. He hadn’t tasted ale since leaving the Marshwoggs, and he hadn’t tasted a real dwarven ale since leaving Murkdolm. The outcasts in the logging town had decent drinks, but none of their watered-down ales could match the brew-masters from underground. He would get Bordorn and have supper, and then, after Krondious was free, the three would find the best tavern and celebrate. Lost in his thoughts, he turned the wrong way from the chamber and ended up on the wrong end of the hallway. He stopped and turned, but suddenly, a hand touched him on the shoulder.
Without thinking, he spun and drew his dagger with his right hand. With his left arm, he slammed his forearm into the dwarf’s throat and shoved him against the wall. Terrified, the dwarf tried to scream, but the pressure on his windpipe kept any sound from coming. Roskin had his dagger against the dwarf’s neck before he recognized his attendant. Just as quickly as he had attacked, Roskin jumped back and dropped his weapon. The young dwarf fell to the ground, sobbing.
“Are you trying to get killed?” Roskin shouted. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Between sobs, the dwarf tried to speak, but his words were unintelligible. Roskin knelt beside him and placed a hand on his arm. The dwarf jerked away and crab-crawled backwards.
“I’m sorry,” Roskin said, his voice as soothing as he could make it. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Everything okay here?” the guard from the front door asked, eyeing the scene.
“He startled me,” Roskin said, standing. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
The attendant stopped crawling and collapsed on the stone floor. The guard moved beside him and knelt.
“You’re okay,” she said. “He’s not gonna hurt you.”
The young dwarf composed himself and sat up.
“Please,” Roskin said, reaching down to help him to his feet. “Forgive me. I just didn’t hear you.”
“It’s okay,” the attendant responded, taking Roskin’s arm. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Here’s your dagger,” the guard said, holdi
ng it out with the handle facing Roskin.
“I’m not usually so jumpy,” Roskin said, blushing. “I’ve not been underground in some time.”
“I was just coming to tell you that Bordorn wants you. I was trying to catch you before you left the house again.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Let’s go find him,” Roskin returned to the attendant.
Roskin sheathed his dagger and thanked the guard for her assistance. She nodded and returned to her post. Smiling at the still shaken attendant, Roskin motioned for him to lead the way. The young dwarf hesitated and then moved towards the bedroom. Roskin followed a few steps behind, replaying the scene in his mind. He had seen Molgheon and Leinjar jump like that when startled and had always hoped to never be that way. He had left home as a kid in search of fame and glory and had returned as someone he didn’t quite understand or recognize. He hoped now that after a little time underground he could let go of what haunted him and live a peaceful life.
Back at the bedroom, Bordorn was still reading but looked up when Roskin came in. Roskin didn’t speak. Instead, he crossed the room to the bureau that held his sword and axes and removed his belt. He slid his dagger from the belt and placed it beside the axes, then put his belt back on. Bordorn watched the entire time without speaking, and once his belt was refastened, Roskin lay on the bed and focused on patterns in the ceiling.
“I’ll bite. What’s wrong?”
“Just almost killed my attendant.”
“He is a little annoying.”
“I’m serious, Bordorn. He came up behind me, and I almost killed him before I knew what I was doing.”
“You’ve been through a lot. You need some time.”
“I can’t carry a weapon while I’m here.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Well listen, I’ve been reading a little while you were gone, and I know what I want to do with my stump.”
“Okay?”
“I’m gonna get a shield fashioned so I can learn to use it to protect myself. Will you help me practice using my sword with one arm?”
“Of course.”
