by Sam Ferguson
Al groaned and lifted his head to the ceiling. In that moment, he almost wished that he was back upon the battlefield once more. It wasn’t that he liked violence, or the grief that came with war, but there was something about it that made him feel more alive. It gave him a sense of purpose. An all-encompassing reason to exist.
He looked to the green book lying haphazardly upon the desk. “Is that why you focused on your battles?” he asked Sylus. “Maybe you didn’t care to focus on mining and farming because it wasn’t what gave you your value, is that it?” Al reached out and grabbed the book again, deciding that must be the reason the warrior-king had left such an exhaustive account of his wars while barely glossing over the general points of commerce in his time. “There is something about the crown that dulls the spirits in creatures who yearn for action,” Al said with an approving nod to the book.
He flipped through the last two chapters, scanning the runes just enough to know that chapter fourteen was a treatise about weapon types and the best metals to use in their creation, and that chapter fifteen was a short account describing Sylus’ death. He grabbed the back cover to close the book, but as his hand brought the cover up, something caught the light just right, shining ever so slightly.
Intrigued, Al bent his nose to the book and narrowed his eyes. It was an ink smear. The writing was old and much of it was faded. He turned and looked at the runes on the last page. They were written with black ink, and the writing there was not dimmed by time. Furthermore, the faded runes on the inside back cover appeared to be made by a different hand. Al held the book up to the light at an angle to better see, and discovered that there was a message there. There wasn’t much that was visible, but Al did see a distinct line of runes that made his mouth drop.
Al set the book down and called out to a servant to find Alferug. “Tell him to bring something to restore ink!” Al added as the servant scurried off down the hallway.
Alferug was quick to answer. An excited smile on his face told Al that he was expecting a breakthrough. The wooden box in his arms, filled with various bottles and brushes, showed that Alferug was prepared for any kind of restoration that might be needed.
“Have you found something?” Alferug asked as he set the box down on the desk.
Al pointed to the back cover. “Did you notice this before?”
Alferug bent down close to the book. “I don’t see anything,” he said.
Al gently pushed Alferug back and raised the book to the light. “Look again.”
Alferug’s mouth fell open and he nearly jumped with excitement as he turned to the box. “Tell me, is it red or black ink?”
Al paused as he brought the book closer. “It appears to be red.”
“Very well, set the book down. Move all the others. We don’t want to have any accidents.”
Al did as he was told and stepped aside.
Alferug brought out a thick cloth and set it on the last page of the book. “Don’t want to damage any of the intact pages,” he explained as he stretched the edges around the rest of the book. “Give me a moment.” Alferug went to the box and pulled a large stone bowl from the bottom. Next he pulled a cube of soap and three bottles. Each of the liquids in the bottles were clear, but the bottles were different shapes and were each stoppered with a large cork. “Water, ammonia, and muriate of tin,” Alferug announced as he indicated the bottles. Without waiting for a response, Alferug went to work shaving off an amount of soap from the cube and then grinding it into a powder inside the stone bowl. Next, he poured precise amounts of each liquid into the bowl and mixed thoroughly.
Al covered his nose and took a step back. He never did care for the smell of ammonia. Mixed with the other items, it was even worse.
Alferug then took a brush and held his breath as he dipped it into the mixture and then lightly applied it to the back cover. “Watch carefully. We may need to transcribe the writing to a new paper. This mixture is highly acidic, and may eat through the writing after a while.”
Al grunted as he fished for a piece of parchment from the drawer in the desk. He then set it next to the green book and marveled as the runes became clear, changing from an almost imperceptible, faded red to a greenish color that contrasted well against the aged book.
“The Wealth of Kings shall be found again when the bloodgrass springs up from the mountain,” Al read aloud as he quickly scrawled an identical set of runes on his paper. He then turned back to the cover.
“Find the book written by mine own hand, and you will understand the Wealth of Kings,” Alferug said as he read the last line of runes aloud.
Al transcribed the entire message and then shook his head as he looked to the signature at the bottom of the secret message. “This was written by Sylus,” Al said.
“But why would he hide the Wealth of Kings?” Alferug mused. He then took his brush and applied a thin layer of the mixture to other areas of the cover. In doing so, he revealed a smaller line of writing near the bottom. “Beware that you do not squander…,” Alferug said.
“Squander what?” Al asked.
Alferug shrugged. “The rest of the writing is too deteriorated to bring back. I can’t recreate the entire message.”
Al set his pen down and pointed to the book. “The Wealth of Kings,” he said. “Maybe he was afraid the mines would run dry one day, and he was cautioning us not to squander our wealth.”
Alferug sighed and set his brush down across the rim of the stone bowl. “What we need to do is find this other book that Sylus wrote.”
“Did my father ever tell you of it?” Al asked. Alferug shook his head. “He never told you anything about it?” Al asked again incredulously.
Alferug again shook his head. “As I said before, he never mentioned it to me. I never knew of the library’s existence until we found it together.”
“But surely you knew of the back door in the mountain, yes?”
Alferug frowned. “Your father told you about it, but he did not tell me.”
Al snapped his fingers. “We don’t need to find the book,” he said excitedly. “We just need to go back through the rear door. We have been wasting our time when all we had to do was retrace our steps.” Al smiled widely and moved to retrieve his cloak. “Come, you should be there with me. We will open the mirror from the inside, as we did before!”
The two made haste through the mountain and within the hour were outside, climbing the slope as the afternoon sun slowly made its descent in the west.
Al pushed on, ascending the mountain side as the loose dirt gave way to patches of gray shale and round pebbles. His thick fingers easily found the niches in the stone wall as he started up a sheer cliff, scurrying up the face like a squirrel climbs a tree. Alferug was only a few feet behind him until they reached the top and stood on the first shelf.
They made their way along the same path they had traveled together once before. At times the flat shelf gave way to steep drops where rockslides had occurred over the years. A man might have easily fallen down any one of the dangerous slopes, but Al was a dwarf. His feet were in tune with the mountain and the rock. He often joked that when it came to climbing mountains, dwarves were more akin to goats than to their taller human cousins.
They walked for the space of an hour before Al stopped to scan the ascending slopes, looking for the best route up the mountain. It didn’t take him long. He pointed a sausage-like finger at a jagged crevice and went straight to it. His hands found purchase quickly and his feet propelled him up. The rock felt cool and strong to the touch. A part of him began to come alive as the mountain seemed to welcome his ascent. A great smile stretched across his face and he increased his pace, scrambling up the mountain as though he were a strong summer wind, bending up to crest over the peak.
Once they arrived at the second shelf, Al led them on a winding trail to a place near the back of the mountain. They were about two thirds of the way up the great peak, exactly in the same area where they had found the door before.
“We’ll rest over there,” Al said, pointing to a flat area recessed in a small nook where the mountain curved into itself, hidden by a patch of scrub oak. The two dwarves knew they would need to wait for nightfall, for the door was only revealed by a blue moonstone set in the mountain.
“If you recall, the last time we were here, we were discussing how you brother had expelled the Keeper of Secrets from Roegudok Hall,” Alferug pointed out.
“I remember,” Al grunted.
“Fortunately for our people, Master Lepkin’s assertion that Threnton would not be king for long held true. Whatever hardship we face now in the mountain, I am glad you are here to guide us through it.”
Al took the compliment and offered a half smile. “And I am glad to have you by my side to guide me.” Al smiled and looked down below the mountain, taking in the sweeping view of valley floor and green forest. “It’s interesting how history unfolded,” Al said as he changed the subject. “To think that during Sylus’ time, Tu’luh the Red was the Patron Ancient of Roegudok Hall. He fought beside Sylus in many battles. The dragon even helped advise Sylus.”
“And then he turned on us,” Alferug said with a wistful nod. “There is not much written about the first rift between Ancients and dwarves,” he added.
“My father told me that it happened either during Sylus’ reign, or shortly thereafter, for his was the last king’s book to mention them until my grandfather restored our traditions.”
Alferug nodded. “Even then, the Ancients did not restore their relations with our kind until your grandfather stood with them in the Battle of Hamath Valley.”
“I wonder what caused the first rift.” Al said.
The two of them then drifted silently into their own thoughts as they waited for nightfall.
As the sun set and the moon began to rise, Al and Alferug walked to the edge of the slope and looked out. To the east they could just make out the great, jagged snowcapped mountains that separated the Middle Kingdom from the lands of the Tarthun barbarians and raiders. As they surveyed the land and moved their gazes west, everything appeared so still and peaceful. With the sky ablaze with pink and orange hues, Al couldn’t help but comment on the beauty they saw.
“Give me my tunnels,” Alferug replied. “I wouldn’t trade my home for a vast, empty sky. It feels so cold.”
Al laughed. “Spend a few nights under the stars, and you will change your mind,” Al said.
“I spent time sleeping under the stars, when your brother exiled me,” Alferug said curtly. “No, I prefer to have a roof of stone over my head. I want the forges burning hot beneath my feet and I want walls of stone so thick that dragons themselves couldn’t claw through.”
Al smirked and slapped Alferug on the shoulder. “Come, the moon should be high enough soon.”
The day ultimately yielded to the dark, thick blanket of night. Stars began to appear as the last colors of the day faded away. Twinkling blue and green dots littered the sky, adding their lights to that of the bright crescent moon. Al scanned the rocks in the same spot where he had found the moonstone before. It barely took more than a minute to locate the glowing stone. “There,” Al said.
“As impressive as it was the first time,” Alferug commented.
Al rushed over and placed his hand below the moonstone. “I Aldehenkaru’hktanah Sit’marihu, command the door of kings to open and allow entrance to Roegudok Hall.”
The mountain groaned. Shale and pebbles bounced and vibrated away from the landing they stood upon as the rock itself came alive, sliding and scraping as it writhed before them. A massive, arched slab of slate and granite removed itself to the side and revealed a shallow cavern that covered a glowing blue doorway, covered in runes and designs of stars and moons.
Al walked inside without hesitating. He reached up to the side of the cavern, grasping a brass tube. As Al twisted the brass tube, a stream of light emerged from the end and shone upon a small spot on the door. Satisfied that he had adjusted the light correctly, Al walked forward to the door.
“It appears the jewel is missing,” Alferug pointed out.
“No, we left it here after we entered,” Al said. He moved toward the door and slid his fingers along the edge of the hole where he had placed the pink gemstone. “It should be right…”
“What is it?” Alferug asked when Al didn’t finish his sentence.
Al didn’t answer. He turned and started frantically searching the floor of the cave. “It was here. It was here!”
Alferug dropped to his knees and the two of them searched everywhere for the gemstone they had used to open the secondary barrier the first time they found the secret library.
“It’s gone,” Al said. “The key is gone.”
“How could that be?” Alferug asked.
Al shook his head. Then his face soured as it dawned on him. “Threnton must have taken it after catching us.”
*****
On top of a snow-capped granite peak which rose high above the clouds in the sky, Hiasyntar’Kulai was stretching his wings as he surveyed the land before him. The sun was just rising in the east, throwing its pink and orange hues through the sky and starting to warm the world as it shook off night’s blanket. He had flown thousands of miles to the west of the Middle Kingdom, traveling over oceans and nations to arrive last night upon the eastern most edges of Svatal Island, which was inhabited by Svetli’Tai elves.
It was also the last known resting place of Gorensikdar, a mighty Ancient who had also been the cause of much mischief and grief in Terramyr. This particular dragon had been slain in battle at the hands of elves, and a human king who rode upon a great white dragon.
Hiasyntar’Kulai threw his mighty head back and let out a roar that caused the mountain upon which he stood to tremble, and scattered the clouds from before him. His terrible voice echoed around him several times after he finished. His great, golden eyes scanned the lush, verdant valley below, searching for any sign of life. What he was about to do could not be witnessed by any mortal.
Seeing that he was alone, he stretched out his right foreleg and gathered a ball of silver energy between his talons as he uttered an ancient incantation that only the gods and a handful of Ancients knew. Then, he released the sizzling, crackling ball into the air below him and it tore through the fabric of the mortal plane, opening a passageway to the plane of the dead.
The golden dragon continued to repeat the incantation until the rift was large enough for him to pass through. He floated down into a world that looked very much like Terramyr in shape and size, but there were no trees or plants to speak of. The rocks on this plane were dark. The sky around him was also black, showing silver streaks through the air at times that offered light to the land below.
He flew over the plane of the dead, ignoring the silvery spirits that looked up at him and whispered in hushed tones. He was not hear to speak with the elven dead. He was here to find Gorensikdar, his treacherous son.
He found the spirit of the mighty black dragon after searching for nearly the space of an hour, and covering hundreds of miles in this place of spirits. The great beast was sitting upon a floating island of stone that hovered over an expanse of nothingness.
“Ah, father has finally come to visit his son,” Gorensikdar said in a mighty voice that rumbled through the void.
“I have come to ask you where the addorite has gone,” Hiasyntar’Kulai said.
Gorensikdar laughed, lifting his head and swishing his ethereal tail. “And what makes you think I would tell you anything about that?” the black dragon asked. “You may have been a ruler in Terramyr, but I am king here!” Gorensikdar stood and expanded his wings as if to display his strength in the plane of the dead. “Look around you and see the chaos I have brought to the plane of the dead! I have created the black void which you see here.”
Hiasyntar’Kulai lashed out and grabbed the top of Gorensikdar’s head, then he slammed it down onto the floating stone island as he landed in front of the squirming s
pirit. The golden dragon roared terribly, sending beams of light out from his mouth and causing Gorensikdar to quake. “I am still the Father of the Ancients,” Hiasyntar’Kulai said. “You may think you are safe from me in spirit form, but I have the power to cause you great pain even now!”
The ghost dragon squirmed, whimpering and trying to pull away.
Hiasyntar’Kulai squeezed and then pulled Gorensikdar up so he could look his son in the eyes. “Where is the addorite I had stored at Valtuu Temple? You know that I need it!”
Gorensikdar relented. The golden dragon released his grasp on the ghost and the black dragon shook his head as if he could still feel the golden dragon’s talons upon him. “Alright, father, I will tell you.” The black dragon sat back on its haunches and the haughty, proud arrogance was gone from its countenance. “Before I came to this land, Tu’luh sought me out.”
“What did you tell him?” Hiasyntar’Kulai pressed.
“My brother was displeased with how slow events were transpiring. So, I gave him a push. I explained to him how to use the addorite. I convinced him that he might be able to create a secret supply of his own.”
“You told him everything about the addorite?”
The black dragon grinned. “I am the Patron of Chaos, father. Of course I told him everything, otherwise it would not have been as much fun for me. If your store of addorite is missing, then go and see Tu’luh, for he is the one who has it. Does he also have The Infinium?”
Hiasyntar’Kulai reached out and back-slapped Gorensikdar. A terrible thunder resounded through the area as the Father of the Ancient used his powers to strike the ghost. Gorensikdar’s head jerked to the side and his body shuddered as the pain rippled through him.
“Tu’luh is dead,” Hiasyntar’Kulai replied. “He is dragged down to Hammenfein, and serves there as a slave.”
Gorensikdar seemed to take pleasure in hearing that. He grinned wickedly and turned narrowed eyes on Hiasyntar’Kulai. “How many sons is that now that have been lost?”
