by Sam Ferguson
“Not just the officers,” Alferug said. “They took their families with them. We are missing, in total, in excess of three hundred dwarves.”
“WHAT?!” Al shouted as he sat up rigid in his chair and slammed a fist on the table. “Three hundred dwarves have left?”
Dvek cut in. “Your brother ran a very different kingdom, sire. His officers were able to grow fat off the work of others. Their pockets deepened while the majority of our people worked longer shifts. When the people became unruly, your brother altered the supply of food, basically making the people dependent upon him and his officers. Before the mines ceased producing, he controlled all production also. It was a very different time.”
“Why didn’t anyone say anything?” Al asked.
“A few tried, in the beginning,” Alferug said. “After the first couple of protestors disappeared, the others learned to be quiet.”
“Why didn’t you tell Master Lepkin?” Al asked. “I know he was here. He came here shortly after finding me in Buktah.”
Alferug shook his head. “That was also the day I was exiled,” he said.
“You have to understand,” Dvek chimed in. “Your brother cut ties with the outside world. The humans were our enemy. He blamed them for our diminishing lot. He kept promising to find a great treasure digging in the mines.” Dvek chuckled. “He actually called it ‘the wealth of kings.’ I suppose had he known he was chasing your father’s library, he might have done things differently. As it was, after the first fifty years of fruitless searching, he ordered the mines closed. I suspect it was nothing more than childish bitterness that prompted him to do it, but as I told you when we met before you challenged Threnton, we weren’t given a choice. He ordered the mines closed from that point on, and I knew better than to defy him. Given how he had you secreted away to a forgotten pit and left you to die, I suspect you know where most of his enemies ended up better than I do.”
Alferug folded his arms. “Things were manageable up until the last year or so of his reign. You might have thought the dwarves would rebel, but he had the younger generations convinced that he was providing everything they needed. Those of us who knew better weren’t free to get word out of the mountain for help. Even if we could have, by the time Lepkin and Senator Bracken came, it was apparent that King Mathias was facing his own dangers. Besides, you know as well as we do that no human army is going to pass through the entrance tunnel unless they are invited, and Threnton was not the type to send out invitations.”
Al closed his eyes and let his head fall back to thump against the back of the chair. “Well then, let’s get to work. I’ll go to work on solving the puzzle of the library. Hopefully that chest has what we need. In the meantime,” Al turned and pointed to Dvek, “you keep working on finding a good mine shaft.”
“What of appointing new counselors to the other vacancies?” Alferug asked.
Al grunted and shook his head. “That can wait.” Al rose from the table and dismissed Dvek. Alferug walked with him through a side corridor that led from the throne room to the royal quarters.
Neither of them spoke until they stopped by the large mirror that hung in the hall a short distance from Al’s room. Al reached out and slid his hands around the edge of the mirror, checking for any sort of lever or mechanism.
“I tried that,” Alferug said with a shake of his head.
“Of course,” Al replied as he gave the mirror one last tug. The frame was solidly in place. “You said you had clues for me?”
Alferug nodded. “I placed some books on your desk in the study. Nothing directly speaks of the wealth of kings, but there are some veiled references to it.”
Al nodded and turned to walk on, but Alferug remained standing before the mirror. “My king,” he called out.
Al stopped and twisted around to regard the old advisor. “Is something else troubling you?” Al asked.
Alferug nodded once and clasped his hands in front of his waist as he took in a deep breath and steeped forward. His eyes gazed down at the floor. “Your grandfather reinstated our religion and traditions,” he said flatly. “Before his time, the Ancients were shunned by our people sometime around King Sylus Magdinium’s reign.”
“Yes, I am aware of this,” Al replied evenly. “I may not have gone to King’s College, but I know a bit about our history.”
“My thought is that perhaps our trials are a punishment,” Alferug said directly. “Your father continued the traditions and religion that your grandfather reestablished, but your brother did not. He allowed some semblance of our connections with the Ancients to exist up until he exiled me, but even then the level of worship waned throughout the mountain. Perhaps Roegudok Hall has dried up because of our lack of faith. When we turned our backs upon the Ancients, then maybe the mountain decided it was time to rebuke us.”
Al nodded thoughtfully. “If that is the case, then Hiasyntar’Kulai, the Father of the Ancients, will restore us. I will send a message to him, and ask for his help.”
“He lives?” Alferug asked. His eyes lit up as a child’s might when presented with a large gift. He stepped forward and placed both hands on Al’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me this immediately upon your return?”
Al shrugged. “I have a lot to work through,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was not trained to be the king. I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I just didn’t think about it until now.”
“The Father of the Ancients lives, and you didn’t think it worth mentioning to me?”
Al snorted. “I spent a great deal of the last couple of years surrounded by dragons. By the time I saw Hiasyntar’Kulai, the war with Tu’luh the Red was over. I didn’t get a chance to speak with him before he took off again from Fort Drake. I assume if he had intended to reestablish links with Roegudok Hall, he would have said so then.”
Alferug frowned. “I see.” The advisor turned and mumbled something under his breath as he shook his head and bit his lower lip. “So, then we are on our own?”
Al shrugged. “As I said, I will send a message to him. If he is able to help, I am certain he will. Until then, I need to find the way in.” Al thumbed at the large mirror.
*****
Hiasyntar’Kulai, the great Father of the Ancients, soared through the sky, propelled through the cool clouds by his massive, supple wings. He scanned the ground far below, watching the trees and fields pass by beneath him until he came to Valtuu Temple. His heart saddened when he saw what was left of the once mighty temple that had towered over the valley.
The outer citadel wall was intact, but the ground below and around the temple had sunken in. The tower itself had collapsed into the tunnel. It was obvious that the priests had spent their time salvaging what they could since the terrible catastrophe that had destroyed the temple, but all they had managed to create was a single-story building thirty feet by sixty feet made from brick and stone that had once been part of Valtuu Temple.
The dragon landed lightly upon the ground and peered into the great hole. A couple of priests called out, announcing his presence as they ran toward the building.
Within moments, seventeen priests exited the building and approached him.
“Is this all that remains?” Hiasyntar’Kulai asked as he looked to the priests.
A shorter, pot-bellied priest came forward and spoke for the group. “Many of our order died in the war with Tu’luh and the orcs,” he said. “Others abandoned our order when news of the prelate’s death reached us.” The short man turned and swept his arm out toward the others. “We stand loyally, ready and willing to rebuild the order, my king.” The short priest and all the others knelt on both knees and bowed so that their heads touched the ground.
“What is your name?” Hiasyntar’Kulai asked.
“I am Magdon Sorent,” the priest said. “I have been with the order for thirteen years.”
The dragon nodded. “And who is the new prelate?”
Magdon frowned and shook his head. “The Keeper of Sec
rets has not appointed one to take the old prelate’s place.”
Hiasyntar’Kulai smiled. He had already known of Master Lepkin’s intentions to seek seclusion with his wife, Lady Dimwater, and their newborn son. His question was meant more as a test of these priests, to see whether there had been any struggles for power, or if they had abided by tradition. He was pleased that the latter was the case. “I am here now, and I shall appoint a prelate.”
Magdon nodded and bent his head low to the ground.
Hiasyntar’Kulai let out a low, throaty growl as he focused his mind. As an Ancient, he had two different types of vision he could use. There was the normal kind of vision that all intelligent beings had, albeit his sense of sight was far more acute than any humanoid’s, and then there was another type that was called true sight. True sight allowed Hiasyntar’Kulai to see into the auras of living things around him. He could see the green and white energies of the grasses and trees and other plants around them, but more than that, he could decipher from the priests’ auras exactly how they felt and what kind of character they had deep within their hearts. The priests each had a lesser degree of true sight given to them. Their natural eyes had faded into gray orbs, for they no longer saw as other humans did. The dragon’s gift, however, was one he could use at will, changing between the two types of vision as he needed.
He scanned Magdon first. He saw blue energy swirling around yellow, with a small, marble-sized ball of green and white toward the center of the man. The dragon turned and studied the rest of the priests together. He saw several men with orange hues, red streaks, blue waves, and yellow cores. He saw darkness in none of them, but he was not entirely pleased with any of them either. None of them appeared to have the wisdom and brightness he was looking for.
Hiasyntar’Kulai scrutinized them for several moments, his gaze falling upon each man in turn and then moving on to the next. He repeated the exercise three times, but was still unsatisfied.
The door to the building opened again and a person stepped out with a bright aura that eclipsed all of the others. A core of white swirled within the person’s center. As the light radiated out, there was a bright, warm layer of golden yellow. The outer shell was green, the color of birth, growth, and life. This person had the traits he was searching for. More than that, the traits were far brighter than any counterpart currently bowing before the dragon.
Hiasyntar’Kulai changed back to his normal vision. “I have chosen,” he said.
The priests pushed up to a kneeling position, but did not rise to their feet. They watched expectantly as Hiasyntar’Kulai reached up and pointed a single talon. They glanced around each other, confused for a moment before they turned and looked behind them.
The brown-haired woman near the building stood and stared at the dragon with curious brown eyes.
“My king, she is not a member of our order,” Magdon protested. “She is a volunteer from a nearby village. She helps us with cooking and cleaning.”
The dragon shook his head. “Yet, each of you can see her potential.”
The woman reached up and put a hand to her throat. “What do you want with me?” she asked the dragon. Her voice was cautious, but Hiasyntar’Kulai detected no fear. The woman was as confident as her aura was bright.
“You shall lead this order,” the Father of the Ancients said. “If, you will accept the position as prelate of Valtuu Temple, I will have these priests train you in what you should do.”
“Will I lose my vision, like they have?” the woman asked.
Hiasyntar’Kulai shook his head. “No. The gift of true sight was given to these priests because we Ancients had to leave the Middle Kingdom centuries ago. The gift of true sight allowed the priests to help find the Champion of Truth. However, the Champion of Truth has already been discovered, and Nagar’s Blight no longer clouds the Middle Kingdom. Now that I have returned, I no longer require assistance of that kind. I would have you keep your natural sight, but you would be the steward of this temple and everyone in the order.”
The woman nodded thoughtfully.
“What is your name?”
“Sissil Varone,” she said.
Hiasyntar’Kulai stepped forward and bent his head low to hers. “Sissil Varone, I will form a connection with you now, and endow you with the authority and power necessary to be the prelate. Afterward, you shall go in and rest for a day. Tomorrow, these priests will begin to train you in your new duties. All of them are faithful, and will help you grow into your new position. With your stewardship, you shall make this temple great once more.”
The dragon locked eyes with the woman and formed a telepathic connection between them. Sissil’s shapely body went rigid and still as the dragon used the mental conduit to grant her the powers needed by a prelate of Valtuu Temple.
When he finished, a pair of priests were quick to help Sissil back into the building. They emerged a few moments later and bowed their heads.
“The prelate is sleeping,” one of them said.
“Good, she will need her rest,” Hiasyntar’Kulai commented. He then turned to Magdon. “Is there any addorite left within the temple?”
Magdon scrunched up his brow and shook his head. “No, my king. There has been no addorite here for more than a century.”
Hiasyntar’Kulai nodded. He knew there had been a store of addorite in Valtuu Temple before. He now understood that Tu’luh had likely taken in sometime after the Battle of Hamath Valley. That was the only possible explanation. The dragon sighed and looked back to the ruined temple. In his mind’s eye, he could see the temple rebuilt, but that did little to lessen his current sadness at seeing the destruction wrought upon the once mighty temple by his son, Tu’luh the Red.
“What shall we do, master?” Magdon asked.
The dragon turned and said, “Help the new prelate learn of her role. She has great power inside of her. Serve her as you would serve me. I shall return from time to time, but she will have authority to rule over the temple and direct its reconstruction as well as have oversight for recruiting new priests and acolytes.”
“Where will you go?” Magdon asked.
Hiasyntar’Kulai needed to find addorite. However, that was not a concern he was ready to fully disclose to the priests yet. Instead, he bid them farewell without answering the question, but promised to return soon. He then beat his massive wings and sailed through the sky.
CHAPTER 3
Year 3,711 Age of Demigods, Summer.
2nd year of the reign of Aldehenkaru’hktanah Sit’marihu, 13th King of Roegudok Hall.
Al sat at his large, ebony desk. He leaned back in his chair and wiped a hand down his face and over his beard. He had read through each of the highlighted passages Alferug had given him. There were no obvious answers in front of him. He sighed and slumped down in his chair, frustrated and ready for a break. Then, his eyes saw a green leather book leaning against the wall on the farthest side of his desk. Without even reading the Peish rune emblazoned on the front, he knew the book.
“Well, Sylus, perhaps you will have some wisdom for me?” Al said as he leaned forward, stretching out for the book. He took it in his hands and then unceremoniously flopped back into the chair. He opened the cover and skipped the first chapter. As was customary with any historical text left behind by a king of Roegudok Hall, the first chapter was an account of the king’s heritage and ancestry. One might have thought that since Sylus was only the fifth king, the first chapter might have been small, but this was not so. Dwarven customs demanded an accounting of each king’s major accomplishments as well as their name and genealogical information.
The first chapter on Sylus’ book was well over one hundred pages.
Al shuddered to think how thick his first chapter might have to be if a book was ever written about his reign. He was the thirteenth king of Roegudok Hall. He pushed the idea out of his head and moved into the second chapter. If there was any advice to be found on how to make the mountain prosperous again in the face of s
uch tragedy, Sylus would have the answer in his book. It was well known that Sylus had ushered in an age of unprecedented wealth for the dwarves of Roegudok Hall. The kings who came after him managed to extend that success, but none ever achieved the same status Sylus had created. This was not to say that Roegudok Hall had ever been poor after Sylus’ reign, however. Up until Threnton’s time as king, the dwarves had always enjoyed abundance and wealth.
King Al spent the next several hours scanning the book for insight into Sylus’ process. While the endeavor gave his mind a much needed break from straining to unlock the Wealth of Kings, it shed little light on the subject of prosperity. Sylus had expanded the mines much in the same way Al and Dvek had agreed to expand the mines now. However, there was no secret formula for success. It seemed that it was luck as much as expert mining that resulted in the windfall of gems and ore Sylus extracted during his reign.
It soon became painfully obvious to Al that Sylus had hidden the secret of Roegudok Hall’s wealth, instructing the historian to leave it out of the book. It puzzled Al at first, but then he landed on the idea that perhaps it was because each chapter detailing Sylus’ battles with the orcs of his time was so vivid and painstaking in its accuracy, that perhaps Sylus wanted to be remembered as a warrior-king, and not as a king who labored in the pits below the mountain. Chapter seven opened with the battle against an orc general named Borgnat. The account was so descriptive that Al was able to picture each moment of the battle in his mind as his eyes studied the runes.
He read through until the moment Borgnat was slain, and then Al flipped to chapter eight. It too, was an account of a great battle. So were chapters nine through thirteen. Al grumbled and tossed the book to the desk. Learning of battles long forgotten was not going to help him help his people. Al was already an accomplished warrior-king in his own right, having survived the battle at Fort Drake, and before that, having fought against the orcs in the south.
