by Sam Ferguson
“Is the entire Lievonian Order here?” Al asked.
Grand Master Penthal nodded. “King Mathias summoned us shortly after Master Lepkin destroyed the senate hall. We all responded as quickly as we could.”
“What is the situation now?” Al asked.
“I am sure Senator Mickelson has already informed you that we had to deal with a few insurgents, but it was nothing that we couldn’t handle together with the regular guard. We do maintain a curfew though, just to make sure things do not get out of hand again.”
“Yes, he did tell me,” Al admitted.
“I would be interested to know the situation outside of Drakei Glazei,” Grand Master Penthal said. “I cannot say for certain, but I think within a month we may have the situation well enough in hand here that we can come out to the field. We would be wont to lend our assistance wherever the Keeper of Secrets says we are needed.”
Al nodded thoughtfully. “I can’t speak for him,” Al said. “But I believe he is on his way to Valtuu Temple at this moment.”
“He aims to complete the boy’s training then?”
Al nodded.
“What of the Warlocks of the Order of the All Seeing Eye?” he asked.
“Tukai was the first to fall,” Al said. “Lady Dimwater and Master Lepkin slew him. Master Lepkin then killed another one of the warlocks after he left your palace for Valtuu Temple.” Al stopped for a moment and the chorus of marching feet behind him stopped an instant later. Al looked up to Grand Master Penthal. “Janik, was the third warlock.”
“You mean Master Orres’ brother?” Grand Master Penthal asked with an arched brow.
Al sighed and nodded. “Best I can figure, he befriended Erik in order to get close to him. I was there when he attacked him though, and we managed to come through it alright.”
“That makes three,” Grand Master Penthal said. “I heard of the encounter in Buktah recently. Folk from there say you not only slew a group of Blacktongues, but Master Lepkin killed a corrupt city guard captain and the both of you managed to take down another warlock. Is that true?”
“It is,” Al said. “And I am waiting for word now, but we believe the man masquerading as Senator Bracken was actually another warlock of the same order. Master Lepkin sent word to me about the battle with him asking for reinforcements, I sent my cavedogs in response but I have not heard the outcome of the battle as of yet.”
“Cavedogs,” Grand Master Penthal repeated. “I would not want to find myself on the wrong side of those beasts.” Grand Master Penthal stroked his chin and nodded thoughtfully. “I spoke with Braun, House Lokton’s man-at-arms, just a short while ago as they got situated in a house nearby. He gave me an accounting that the warlock is, in fact, dead. He said the man was cleaved in two by Master Lepkin himself.”
“Then you know more than I,” Al admitted.
“It would appear as though the Oder of the All Seeing Eye has been eradicated,” Grand Master Penthal said with a short, pointed nod.
“There are others,” Al pointed out.
“Yes I know,” Grand Master Penthal replied. “Master Lepkin told me of the Wyrms of Khaltoun.” His voice was grim. “I was happy to learn that one of their kind was slain at Valtuu Temple, a wizard by the name of Erthor, but he was not alone.”
“Do we know where the others are?” Al asked.
Grand Master Penthal shook his head. “We know neither where they are nor exactly how many there are.”
Al began walking again and the chorus of footsteps resumed behind him. “So that is why you are anxious to join us out in the field.”
“Quite right,” Grand Master Penthal confirmed. “Our place is beside the Keeper of Secrets, hunting down any devious enough to pursue the wretched arts of necromancy.”
“I suspect you will get your chance,” Al said. “I will be sure to check in with you before I leave,” he promised.
“Be sure that you do, King Sit’marihu,” Grand Master Penthal replied. “And, if I may, I am happy to see the rightful heir on the throne of Roegudok Hall. I am certain your father would be proud.”
Al took the compliment in silence and Grand Master Penthal broke away from the group, heading back to where they had met. Al marched on to the great tower, observing the city as he walked. It felt much different from the last time. There were no crowds of people on the streets, only a few scattered individuals who would stop momentarily and gawk at the dwarves before hurrying on with their own business. There were no horses, no carriages, and no merchants selling any wares of any kind. Knights of the Lievonian Order dotted the streets, and they were augmented by the regular guard and king’s guard.
As they turned down the wide avenue to the great tower, he was pleasantly surprised to see King Mathias standing before the steps waiting for him. He was flanked by a handful of senators and a healthy compliment of the king’s guards.
“He has made a point of appearing outside the tower as of late,” Mickelson commented. “He believes it will help settle the citizens to see their king at this time.”
Al nodded.
King Mathias lifted his arms and let his flowing yellow robe sway gently in the breeze. “King Sit’marihu, welcome to Drakei Glazei,” King Mathias announced as loud as his voice would permit.
Al stopped several paces before the king and bowed his head. “Thank you for receiving us, King Mathias,” Al said. “I have brought a contingent of my finest warriors as tribute.” Al waved his hand behind him, gesturing to the others. “So that all may know that the dwarves of Roegudok Hall do stand with you at this time.”
King Mathias smiled appreciatively and surveyed the warriors. “What, may I ask, is the fate of the former king?”
Al frowned. He had already informed King Mathias of his brother’s fate in a letter carried by falcon after he took the throne. The dwarf was unsure if the question was merely a formality, or a sign that Mathias’ memory was fading. In either case, he did not withhold the answer. “After defeating him in honorable challenge, I sent him to live in the mountains. He is banished form Roegudok Hall and henceforth no longer counted among our folk.”
“Ah,” Mathias said. “A merciful solution.”
The expression on the king’s face proved to Al that it was a lapse in the man’s memory that had prompted the question. He had hoped that was not the case. “As is our tradition upon crowning a new king,” Al continued. “I have come with the tribute of sixty-five dwarf warriors. They are among our best, and will serve you well.”
Mathias nodded. “I will put them with my personal guard,” he said.
Al frowned. Normally the tribute was returned to the giver. Tradition held that the king of the humans would only ever accept the gift of tribute from the dwarves for a period of three nights, after which he would return the warriors to their rightful king. It was symbolic, calling to memory the three days and nights that the dwarves and humans fought together to drive out the orcish hordes centuries before. The tradition served as a kind of renewal of the alliance between the two races. King Mathias knew all of this, or at least he had before. Now he had apparently forgotten.
A tall senator leaned in close to the king and whispered into his ear. Then King Mathias was quick to throw a hand out toward Al. “Of course, I only mean they shall stay with my personal guard for three days, as is our custom,” King Mathias said.
Al could see the look on the senator’s face, as well as the embarrassment on King Mathias’ slightly blushing cheeks. The dwarf king played into it well, allowing King Mathias to save face. “Of course, King Mathias, I understood that to be your intention.” Then Al bowed again and motioned for his warriors to join with King Mathias. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the senator lean in again, but Mathias waved the man away.
“Come, let us feast together in my hall,” King Mathias said. “We shall have much merriment tonight.”
Everyone filed into the great tower but Al remained with Mickelson and waited. “When were you going to tell me?”
Al asked.
Mickelson sighed. “His mind has become extremely weak over the last couple of days,” he said.
“I can see that for myself,” Al quipped. “What I want to know is whether he remembers anything from the last time I was here, does he know what happened in the senate hall?”
“Oh yes,” Mickelson assured him. “He remembers that very well. He still holds you and Lepkin in the highest esteem. It is just that he has not been able to retain new things as of late. We have had to remind him several times of different things.”
“He appears to have forgotten old things as well,” Al said.
“Yes well, it has been a long time since he has made any effort to come down from his room,” Mickelson explained. “He has not had to act so formerly in recent times.” Mickelson clapped a hand to Al’s back. “Come, let us go in and eat. Don’t worry about King Mathias, the senators who remain here are all good and honest men. We will help him.”
“A mind is usually the last thing to go before the spirit,” Al said pointedly. “You may want to think on that.”
Senator Mickelson stopped and frowned down at the dwarf. “I know he is old…” his sentence trailed off and he relented with a nod. “You are right, of course, but what are we to do? We have only just barely restored order to the streets. None of the senators want to think about who will take the throne if the king passes away.”
“Not if, but when,” Al pointed out. “My guess is within a few months at the latest, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was much earlier.” The dwarf poked a stout finger in Mickelson’s side. “As for the question of who, that has already been settled. Master Lepkin should assume the throne.”
“It is not so easy,” Mickelson replied. “After what he did in the senate hall, the other senators are afraid of him. The people are afraid of him.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you one to succumb to political games, Mickelson,” Al chided.
Mickelson shook his head. “It isn’t that, it’s just that Lepkin sitting on the throne might cause another division among the people.”
“As your friend, I would advise you not to play games. The fact that Lepkin should be the heir is already decided. To make a deal in a back room for anything else would do more to undermine the peoples’ confidence than to have Lepkin on the throne.” Al snorted. “And as a king, I say it is good for the senators to fear him. Perhaps that will help them avoid the corruption their fallen colleagues gave themselves to.”
Mickelson shrugged and offered a weak half-smile. “Perhaps you are right,” he said. “But let us hope the king lives so that the change will not be soon.”
Al nodded heartily. “I agree with that completely.”
*****
“What do we do now?” Eldrik asked. “The other warlocks are slain, Senator Bracken and his army are dead, and those who served House Cedreau faithfully now lie on the dirt as well.”
Silvi looked back through the trees and shook her head. “If not for the dwarves, we would have succeeded,” she said.
“Was Bracken right about Hairen and Merriam?” Eldrik asked.
Silvi nodded quietly. “I felt their life force when they expired,” she said.
“How?” Eldrik pressed.
“There was a bond between us,” she said. “Now that bond is severed and I am alone.”
Eldrik regarded her curiously and then kicked a small stone through the bushes. “We can’t go back to my house either,” he said. “I can’t go back to my mother like this. The other men would come for me in the night for leading so many of our house to their deaths.” He spun on her. “I thought this was going to restore us!” he yelled.
“You are not the only person who has lost,” Silvi said with tears in her longing eyes. She looked to him and leaned back against a tall oak tree. For the first time, Eldrik saw her as the vulnerable one. She was scared, and unsure.
He folded his arms and stared at her for a few moments. “So what do we do?” he asked in a softer tone.
Silvi shrugged.
“Is there no one else?”
The black haired witch nodded slowly. “There is someone,” she said. “But, I am not sure we could trust him.”
“Who is he?” Eldrik asked.
“He is a member of the Black Fang Council,” she replied.
“What is that?” Eldrik pressed.
“It is a select order of shadowfiends.”
“Shadowfiends, you mean they are like me?” Eldrik repeated.
Silvi blinked slowly and looked off to the side, away from Eldrik’s intense stare. “They are.” The witch rubbed her arms as if a sudden chill wrapped around her. “But they are different too. Instead of going through a matriarch and gaining the power through our ritual, like you did, they received it with even darker magic. Some have been known to enlist the help of demons, while others have uncovered the forbidden rites that allow them to absorb the power from others and claim it for their own.”
“That doesn’t sound so different from what we did,” Eldrik pointed out. “I absorbed the power of another warlock in the coven, which then turned me into what I am. Then I slew another in front of you and Bracken and devoured his power as well.”
“It may be hard for you to see the difference,” she agreed. “But within the coven there is order. A matriarch follows specific rules when transferring power from one to another. For most other shadowfiends, there is no order. Their growth comes only through murder and absorbing the life energy of others. They devour the magical and mundane alike. Each kill boosts their power.”
“So they are unpredictable,” Eldrik guessed.
Silvi nodded. “And extremely dangerous,” she added. “The Black Fang Council is the only order of shadowfiends, as most prefer solitude and would rather kill each other to absorb the other’s power. The Black Fang Council is different. Its members seek a common goal.”
“What is that?” Eldrik asked.
“They seek immortality,” she said flatly. “While most shadowfiends are content with their existence, the members of the Black Fang Council seek to prolong their lives indefinitely, at the cost of any who stand in their way.”
“How do you know of them?” Eldrik asked.
“Because the man you know as Senator Bracken, the previous patriarch of our order, was familiar with them. He even spoke with a couple of them over the years.”
“If these shadowfiends are so unpredictable, why would he talk to them?”
Silvi shrugged. “I don’t know all of the details. I only know that he had a question for them. He sought them out for years before finally finding one. Hairen said once that he traded the souls of ten men for the answer he desired. Then, from that point on he would periodically deal with them, always taking more sacrifices to them in exchange for whatever wisdom they gave him.”
“What would be so important to Bracken?” Eldrik mused aloud. “What did they have that he wanted?”
“I suppose he also sought the secret of immortality,” Silvi said. “It is the only reason I have ever been able to come up with.”
“Well, if that is true, then they obviously didn’t give him the right answer,” Eldrik said.
“Perhaps,” Silvi agreed. “I guess there is no way to know now,” she said.
Eldrik nodded. “Yes there is,” he said. “We will go to them.”
Silvi’s eyes opened wide. “Eldrik, we can’t go to them, they will kill us.”
“They didn’t kill Bracken,” Eldrik replied.
“Bracken was a lot stronger than both you and I put together,” she pointed out. “And even he needed to bring them something in return.”
“You just said you know of one that we could turn to,” Eldrik pointed out.
Silvi nodded. “We could try, but it will be a long journey. Beyond the sea.”
Eldrik frowned. “I have nowhere else to go,” he said.
“We could start a new coven here,” she reminded him.
Eldrik shook his head. “N
o, let us go find this shadowfiend.”
“Alright Eldrik,” she relented.
“No, the battle is over and everyone here will assume that Eldrik has died,” he said. “From now on I wish to be called Aparen.”
“What of your mother?”
He shrugged. “Aparen has no mother,” he said callously.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Erik stepped around his horse, keeping a wary eye on the cavedog nearby. The lizard was enormous, like a wingless, fireless dragon. A long snout filled with razor sharp fangs situated on a stout, thick neck. The back was broad and muscular, affording ample space for each dwarf to affix a saddle to. The forelegs were strong and tipped with heavy, black claws. The back legs were similar, except almost double the size. The tail stretched out mightily behind the beast, about three feet in length. It looked up at him with angry yellow eyes and flicked its forked tongue out into the air.
“Don’t let it bother you,” Alferug said. “He won’t strike.”
Erik kept watching the lizard. “How do you know?” he asked. “And for that matter, why don’t they attack all of you? Each lizard is about seven feet long,” Erik said.
“Most are closer to eight or nine feet long, actually,” Alferug corrected. “They are a savage beast in war, but to the dwarf folk they are as kind and loyal as a sheepdog might be to its master. That’s why they are called ‘cavedogs’ in fact. They have many endearing traits.” Alferug bent down and stroked the back of the lizards shoulder and it lifted its head and closed its eyes, emitting a low, throaty sound that almost resembled a purr.
“I don’t know,” Erik said. “It seems like saying a snake could be a good friend.”
Alferug turned sharply and frowned. “The comparison is not apt at all,” he said. “A cavedog is a distant cousin of the dragon. As such, we are actually able to communicate with them the same way that I can communicate with you while you are in dragon form.”
Erik shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Come put your hand on its snout,” Alferug said.
