Kathir's Redemption (Book 6)

by Kristian Alva

  Kathir narrowed his eyes. No question about it, he definitely looked suspicious. He decided to temporarily abandon his mission and to follow the guard instead.

  Kathir was tall enough that he stood out, so he had to move carefully to conceal himself. He stayed just outside the camp perimeter, watching from the tree line. A few times, Kathir was afraid that the dwarf would spot him, but he never did.

  Kathir followed the dwarf to a secluded area in the northern part of the camp. Ten dwarves were gathered around a fire, cooking their meat rations over the flame. They looked up and waved. “Gorri! Come over and join us. Any fresh news?”

  Gorri went to the fire and rubbed his hands before sitting down near the group.

  “There’s not much to tell,” Gorri said. “It’s the same story as always.”

  “Utan still won’t budge?” the first dwarf asked him. “He won’t let us inside his mountain?”

  Gorri shook his head. “Nay, and what’s more, Bolrakei had to stop Utan from sending soldiers to attack our camp. She saved us again.”

  A gasp went around the circle. “Utan wouldn’t dare attack us!”

  “Of course he would,” Gorri snorted. “They had an army out to meet us when we arrived, didn’t they? Not exactly welcoming, was it? Instead of being thankful that we’re here, the Vardmiters are trying to fight us. The only reason Utan hasn’t attacked us already is because he’s scared of Bolrakei.”

  “That sounds right. She’s got powerful connections, thank goodness,” said one of the others. There was nodding all around.

  “Right now, Utan’s just biding his time…waiting for the dragon riders to leave.” Gorri went on. “Then he’ll try and starve us. But don’t ye worry—Bolrakei is a true leader. She’ll get you bread, and more food is coming.”

  “What about Skemtun?” the dwarf closest to the fire asked. “Hasn’t he tried to help?”

  “Skemtun’s useless—as always!” Gorri said with contempt in his voice. “He’s too scared to do anything. During the meetings, he just sits there like a mute, saying nothing while Bolrakei negotiates for all of us. Think about it—how much has he really done? He spends most of his time gossiping and hiding behind that human bodyguard of his.”

  Kathir listened to the exchange with growing indignation. Gorri made some more disparaging comments about Skemtun and then excused himself, waving goodbye. He walked through the forest until he arrived at another group of dwarves on the outskirts of camp.

  Kathir followed the dwarf to another campfire, where he repeated the same story. Sometimes, Gorri handed over small coin pouches or made promises about the delivery of bread or meat. However, it wasn’t until Gorri turned around and headed up toward the entrance to the mountain that Kathir really saw the true extent of Bolrakei’s treachery.

  There were two Vardmiter guards posted at the entrance, but they didn’t stop Gorri. Instead, they smiled and shook his hand as if they were old friends. Kathir couldn’t get close enough to hear the details of what they said, but he could see that their conversation was friendly. Gorri passed two money pouches to the guards and slipped inside the mountain. He came back a few minutes later with a huge basket filled with bread and sausages. Gorri covered the basket with a blanket and winked at the guards. Then he made his way back to Bolrakei’s campsite with a smug look on his face.

  Kathir was shocked. Was all that food for Bolrakei? Or was it for bribes? Bolrakei was buying support with food and money and while defaming Utan and Skemtun. The pieces fit together so neatly. She was trying to stir up animosity against the Vardmiters while manipulating the clans into supporting her.

  Kathir turned and ran towards the main camp. He needed to warn Skemtun immediately.

  He paused and saw that wagons approaching in the distance. There were painted brilliant white and had an image of a crystal dome on the side. Kathir knew immediately who was inside them. Skemtun spotted him and waved him over.

  “There ye are!” Skemtun said. He lowered his voice. “Did ye manage to set up a meetin’ with Utan?”

  Kathir shook his head. “No, not yet—there’s something else I have to tell you; we need to talk in private.”

  “It’ll have to wait,” Skemtun said, gesturing over to the wagons. “Look who’s coming. What is the High Council of Miklagard doing here?”

  “I don’t know,” Kathir admitted. “Whatever it is, it must be important. Miklagard doesn’t send the High Council outside the crystal shield without good reason.” Inside, he felt his stomach twisting with worry. Why had the High Council come here? What did they want?

  8. The High Council Speaks

  A crowd gathered along the dirt road as the carriages arrived.

  Kathir leaned close to Skemtun and whispered in his ear. “I really need to talk to you about Bolrakei.”

  Skemtun nodded but gestured at the crowd. “Not yet. Later…in private. There’s too many people here who might overhear us.”

  The carriages grew closer. Sela and Elias flew down to meet them. Bolrakei was there too of course, and she pushed her way to the front of the crowd with her attendants. She had changed her clothing for the occasion. She wore a bright purple dress with a long cape.

  The carriages drew to a halt outside the main gates.

  The first man who stepped out was white-haired and wore dark, fur-lined robes. Two younger mageborns, a man and a woman, attended him. The two attendants spoke quietly and guided the old man to the front gates.

  “We’ve stopped?” the white-haired man asked with a confused look on his face. “Where am I again?”

  “Councilor Komu, we’ve arrived at our destination. This is Highport. We’re here to talk to the dwarves, remember?” the woman said.

  “Yes, yes… of course,” the old man said. “I remember. You don’t need to repeat things to me all the time, you know.”

  Kathir leaned over to Skemtun. “That’s Komu. He’s the eldest of the High Council. He’s still an influential member of the council, but he’s grown rather befuddled with age. He’s a decent man, from what I’ve gathered. Just don’t expect him to remember who you are from one meeting to the next. His condition has worsened in recent years.”

  “And the other two with him?” Skemtun asked.

  “They’re his personal assistants. They’re mageborns too. The woman is named Issani, and the man is called Blias. I don’t know either of them very well,” Kathir admitted. “I work for the High Council, but they don’t introduce me to their inner circle.” There was an edge of bitterness in his voice that he couldn’t quite conceal. The Miklagard High Council was happy to use his services, but they never accepted him like an equal. Despite his hard work, Kathir was never appreciated; the slave marks on his cheeks made him inferior in their eyes.

  Kathir returned his attention to carriages, watching as a second carriage stopped behind the first. Two figures descended from it. A man in his middle years stepped down into the dirt. He had a round belly and a short dark beard. He was dressed similarly to Komu, but his robes were heavier and had gold embroidery on the collar.

  “That’s Councilor Delthen,” Kathir said. “He seems nice enough on the surface, but don’t let his pleasant demeanor fool you. It’s an act. When pushed, he can be downright nasty. He’s got a rotten temper when crossed.”

  Kathir watched a second figure jump down from the second carriage. The man was muscular, with a full head of jet-black hair. Unlike the other two men, he was dressed in a practical tunic and riding leathers, but the shine of silver jewelry made it clear that he had wealth.

  “That third man looks familiar,” Skemtun said. “Do you know him?”

  Kathir nodded. “That’s Druknor Theoric. If he’s come here, then he must have a good reason, and it probably has to do with money. He normally doesn’t travel far from his fortress. He prefers to just sit like a spider at the center of his web. He’s a slav
er and smuggler.”

  Skemtun’s jaw dropped. “He’s a slaver? Then what’s he doing with Miklagard’s High Council?”

  Kathir shook his head. “Druknor is one of those talented politicians who knows how to keep his hands clean while still committing crimes. He hides his criminal activities behind various legitimate businesses. I don’t know why he’s here, but it’s bad news. He’s a vicious criminal—but no one can prove it.”

  Skemtun nodded, and they headed forward to join the small knot of people going to greet the High Council. The dragon riders moved forward first.

  “Welcome, Councilors,” said Sela, with a note of caution in her voice. “What a surprise to see you here.”

  Komu stared at Sela with a blank expression. Then one of his assistants leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Sela? Ah, yes! I remember you! Did I ever tell you about that time I fought in the war?”

  “Please…allow me, Komu.” Councilor Delthen swept forward with an elegant bow. He took Sela’s hand and kissed it, as if he were greeting a princess. “Hello, Mistress Sela! It’s pleasing to see our esteemed allies, the dragon riders, here to help these poor dwarves. Miklagard has also heard of their plight and wishes to help.”

  Sela’s eyebrows rose. “I see,” she replied gravely, jerking her hand away. “We weren’t expecting Miklagard to send representatives here, much less actual members of the High Council.” Sela shot a scathing look in Druknor Theoric’s direction. “Why is he here?”

  Druknor’s expression darkened.

  Councilor Delthen swept a hand in Druknor’s direction. “Druknor is our valuable ally, and he is here to observe the proceedings, and promote trade. I expect that he will be treated with all due courtesy.”

  “Oh… I’ll give him every courtesy he’s due,” Sela said coldly.

  “Lady Sela,” Druknor said with a frozen smile. “I hope I haven’t offended you in some way?”

  Sela stared at him with narrowed eyes. She knew the truth about Druknor, but she couldn’t prove anything against him, so she was forced to be diplomatic.

  “Druknor has been able to provide us with invaluable information on this region,” Councilor Delthen continued. “He has also helped us identify potential mageborn students for our training school. His network of contacts is enormous.”

  Druknor gave Sela a sickly-sweet smile. “I’m here to help. I have financial resources, and my fortress isn’t far from here. Besides, I’m a businessman, and this situation is rich with business opportunities. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “This isn’t a peddler’s market!” said Sela. “There’s a war going on. The greenskins have taken Mount Velik, and people are dying. Truly, this is not the time or place to discuss business affairs.”

  Druknor’s smile became a grimace. “My lady, please…we should be friends. Perhaps one day when this is done, you will come to Sut-Burr. I would love to welcome you there as an honored guest.”

  “I would rather—” Sela started.

  Councilor Delthen interrupted before Sela could finish. “Ah! Enough of this chitchat! We are all tired from our lengthy travels and wish to rest. Perhaps it is best if we finish this conversation inside?”

  Councilor Komu circled the group, looking a bit confused. “Now, now, let’s all get inside, shall we? It’s cold out here. Where can I get some tea?”

  “Utan isn’t letting anyone in,” Skemtun said.

  “He isn’t letting any of your clan in, I’d imagine,” Councilor Delthen replied. “But we are not dwarves. We are the High Council of Miklagard, and we’ve never been denied entry into any allied stronghold.” Then Delthen smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “However, friend, if you do not object, could I borrow your bodyguard for a moment, so we can speak in private?”

  Kathir stiffened, but said nothing.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Skemtun replied, slightly surprised. “He’s your man after all, isn’t he?”

  Councilor Delthen ignored the question and simply replied, “Thank you. I appreciate it.” With a small frown, he fixed his eyes on Kathir, and waited for him to follow him.

  Kathir nodded and led the delegation up to the mountain’s entrance. Delthen walked beside him and spoke quietly.

  “I want your report,” Delthen hissed.

  “I’ve protected Skemtun, as you ordered,” said Kathir. “There’ve been several attempts on his life.”

  “What happened during the siege? Nobody was expecting Mount Velik to fall so quickly—if at all.”

  “I tried to persuade them to strengthen their defenses, but it was too late by the time I arrived. The dwarves were unprepared, and the orcs greatly outnumbered them. King Nar was cleverer than anyone anticipated .The next thing I knew, we were fighting for our lives. I did what I could to evacuate the mountain and to escort the survivors safely here.”

  “So the city is a complete loss?” said Delthen.

  “Yes,” he responded, sighing. “Mount Velik is gone.”

  “What a disaster this is!” Delthen said. “How can we prevent the orcs from invading the rest of the continent? The greenskins are spreading like the plague, and you’ve done almost nothing to stop it.”

  “I did the best I could, under the circumstances,” Kathir replied. “In these situations you have to be flexible.”

  The councilor stared him in the eye. “You may have saved a few dwarves, but that wasn’t your primary mission. We need to salvage this situation any way we can. The dwarf clans must reunite and take back Mount Velik; it’s the only solution! The Vardmiters have greater numbers—they might be strong enough to raise an army by themselves.”

  “The clans aren’t ready for reunification. There’s too much animosity between them,” Kathir said.

  “I don’t care about that! The clans must agree to a treaty. If that means getting rid of Utan and Skemtun to make it happen, so be it! We cannot allow the orcs to spread any further. The dwarves must reclaim Mount Velik before next winter; otherwise the entire Northeast will be at risk of conquest by the greenskins!”

  Kathir didn’t respond. He didn’t see any hope of success in Delthen’s plan. Even if all the clans were to join together, they still couldn’t defeat the orcs in open combat. “I thought you wanted Skemtun to be the leader of the clans.”

  “Our situation has changed,” Delthen said. “When the dwarves controlled Mount Velik, Skemtun was the best choice for the job. But if he can’t support our needs now, then the High Council must shift their support to a more…suitable leader.”

  “You want me to start guarding Bolrakei instead of Skemtun?” Kathir asked incredulously.

  “No,” Councilor Delthen replied. “She’s not an appropriate choice, either. You shall continue to guard Skemtun, until we deem that it is more advantageous for you not to guard him. At some point, we’ll find someone to replace him. Do you understand?”

  Kathir understood. At some point, the High Council expected him to step aside and let Skemtun die, so that he could be replaced with a leader more to their liking.

  Delthen reached into his robes and drew out a large pouch that clinked with coins inside. “Here’s your payment.” Delthen handed him the pouch, and Kathir shoved it into his pocket. For the first time ever, taking the money made him feel dirty and deceitful.

  Delthen cleared his throat and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Thank you, Kathir. I believe we can find our way beyond this point.” He gave Kathir a wave of dismissal and turned his back.

  Druknor walked past him without so much as a passing glance, as did Komu’s aides, but the old man himself paused. Slowly, with the discomfort of age, Komu bent to pick up a coin that had fallen, and placed it in Kathir’s palm. “You dropped something, boy.”

  “Thank you,” Kathir replied.

  “Oh, think nothing of it,” said the ancient mage. His eyes were cloudy with cata
racts, and Kathir wondered how much he could actually see. “So… you spoke to Delthen?”

  Kathir struggled to understand why Komu was even speaking to him. “Actually, our chat was quite brief.”

  “I see.” For a second, Komu’s bewildered look dissolved and his gaze become sharp and focused. “Listen to me, boy. Delthen forgets that he doesn’t speak for the whole council.” Komu patted him on the wrist. “Consider this payment for saving the dwarves. You did a good job.”

  “Thank you,” Kathir said, looking at him strangely.

  “You know,” Komu said. “Things aren’t always what they seem. This isn’t where it ends. The future is falling into place.”

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Kathir, taken aback.

  Komu didn’t answer. His two aides rushed back and grabbed him gently by his arms, guiding him away. Komu started babbling about the weather again, and his aides nodded vaguely.

  Kathir just stood there, unsure of what all of this meant.

  9. Back to Parthos

  Tallin and the elves flew over the Death Sands. They flew without rest until finally, at sunset on the second day, they saw the city of Parthos ahead in the distance. The landscape had changed in the short time that they were away.

  “The desert’s in bloom,” Tallin whispered. A sea of flowers reflected the brilliant sunlight from the sky. Bright purple cactus blossoms struck a brilliant contrast to the ruddy color of the sand. The scenery was magnificent, but the elves said nothing. They stared ahead and did not speak to anyone.

  Fëanor and Amandila flew close to their queen but remained respectfully behind her.

  “It’s odd to see Fëanor defer so much to his queen,” Tallin said.

  “Elves don’t have a high opinion of mortals, but their own queen is another story,” said Mugla, sitting behind her nephew.