The Wealth of Kings

by Sam Ferguson

  More than that, Al had a better understanding than did Sylus about The Infinium. He had spoken with Erik and Master Lepkin about it many times during the war against Tu’luh the Red. From what he understood, The Infinium was the only book that unlocked the mysteries of the four horsemen, a terrible force the likes of which was unsurpassed in destructive power. To hear Master Lepkin or Lady Dimwater describe them, the four horsemen were beings capable of destroying entire planets, and never before had any planet marked for destruction been rescued from their onslaught. Erik asserted that Terramyr was already set on a path that would bring the four horsemen one day, and they would kill the world, and everything on it. The Infinium promised to have an answer for this otherwise inescapable destruction. It was Terramyr’s only hope for ensured survival.

  If the Ancients needed the addorite to read The Infinium, then Al was going to try and get it for them. He knew Erik would do the same if he had been presented with the choice.

  Al turned and rose to his feet, scooping Sylus’ secret book up into his arms and moving back through the tunnel to his chamber. He set the book down upon the desk and moved toward his wardrobe. As officiator of the funeral rites for Alferug, he would need his ceremonial armor. He hated the ostentatious suit. He had even offered to sell it or break down its components for use in bartering for food, but Alferug had rejected the idea outright.

  “That is a symbol of our heritage,” Alferug had said.

  Al smiled weakly as he opened the wooden door to the cabinet that concealed the armor. At least he had found one chest of gold in the library. That would go a long way toward buying his people more time. Still, with the merchant guilds in the Middle Kingdom joining forces to gouge prices for produce and meat, the newfound treasure wouldn’t go as far as Al would have otherwise liked.

  He stared at the gaudy suit of armor sitting upon its stand inside the cabinet and sighed. “If it were anyone else’s funeral, I would wear my smithing apron and black trousers,” Al grumbled to himself. He didn’t mean it, of course. The funeral traditions were held sacred among the dwarves of Roegudok Hall, but he couldn’t help but feel like a stuffed pig on display at a feast whenever he thought of wearing the royal armor.

  Al reached into the cabinet and pulled out the first pieces he needed. He could have asked for help, but he didn’t want anyone else around him until he had had a few more moments to think by himself. He begrudgingly changed into his royal armor. It wasn’t as functional a suit as one he would make for himself. It was meant for occasions such as this, where the show and perception of power was more important than the armor’s actual strength or utility. A silver encrusted breastplate with gold inlay around the engraved edges shone brightly in the torchlight of his room. Each masterfully carved rune was traced with a line of gold. Each rivet that attached the layering plates was covered with a cap of ruby or emerald stone. The suit was polished to such a high sheen that Al could see his reflection as clearly as if he looked into a mirror. The greaves were equally as stunning. They were made from black, Telarian steel. Sharp contrasting lines of silver and gold were braided down the outer sides of the greaves, weaving around each other in such a way as to dazzle any onlooker when the armor walked past.

  He fastened the greaves first, and then moved to sit in a backless chair to put his boots on. The insides of the boots were made of leather lined with thin rabbit fur to keep the sharp, rigid plates of steel from cutting into him. He barely managed to stuff his feet down inside without falling over backwards off the chair, but he eventually succeeded in hitching them to the greaves with the clasps just below the knee. Al stood up and swung his right leg out. His range of motion was drastically reduced. He would have to walk slowly. He turned and began donning the pads that went under the breastplate and pauldrons before grabbing the outer armor itself. Al slid his hands into the gauntlets afterward. They were longer than most conventional gauntlets, stretching out to cover the forearm up to the elbow joint. Rubies and sapphires studded the wrists of the plated gauntlets, while a great diamond was set in the middle of the forearm so as to look like an eye, outlined in gold. The final piece was the helmet. Al took the open faced helmet in hand and looked at the crown fused to the top. As if the rest of the ensemble wasn’t gaudy enough, the crown featured a diamond directly in the center, flanked by two rectangular cut amethysts, which were followed around the rim by a pattern of emeralds, sapphires, rubies, and onyx.

  “I still think it needs a unicorn’s horn,” Al quipped.

  He set the helmet atop his head and moved to look in the nearest mirror. It was terrible. He could barely stand to look at himself. He wasn’t like a stuffed pig at all. No, he looked more like a prancing, primping peacock with jewels tied to the body. Had he not been going to the funeral rites, he would have torn the ridiculous suit of armor off and kicked it under the bed to hide it, or perhaps tossed it over the balcony outside.

  “I’m selling this thing as soon as I can,” Al promised himself.

  He made his way out and into the tunnel. As soon as he was in the hallway, he was flanked and followed by six guards. When they had learned of the attack, his bodyguards had insisted they would be going everywhere with him. It was a wonder they let him remain alone inside his room over the last couple of days. Both Kijik and Benbo had argued that Al should let them post permanent guards on the king’s balcony as well. Al had been able to broker a compromise, but it was still one that he felt uncomfortable with. Any place outside of his own bedchamber, he was to be accompanied at all times by half a dozen warriors. Al figured he would be spending a lot more time in his room, or perhaps he could have them remain in the throne room if he was in his forge with his apprentices.

  They moved down through the mountain and into a large shrine that was located a quarter mile to the west of the main hall. It was modest enough, but still displayed the proud dwarven workmanship that so characteristically defined the rest of Roegudok Hall.

  Four half-columns were carved from the walls, which were in turn engraved to look as though the shrine was built with stone brick, rather than simply hollowed out from the mountain. A single dwarven rune was carved into each of the half-columns.

  Stone pews formed the seating area before the raised dais and granite pulpit. Behind the pulpit, a large mural was painted onto the stone wall showing Hiasyntar’Kulai, the Father of the Ancients. The painting had been ordered by Al’s father several centuries before. Al smirked when he saw it. He wondered what Sylus would say if he could see such a mural in place now.

  Then his eyes drifted down and he saw the stone casket lying in front of the pulpit. His heart sank. He stepped toward the coffin and rested his hands on the open edge, looking down to Alferug. The deceased, gray-haired dwarf looked as though he were simply resting with his hands at his sides. Al shook his head and sighed heavily.

  “The lining should be silk,” he said to Alferug. “Forgive me, my friend, but wool is all we can afford at this time. I know it doesn’t fit for a dwarf of your stature, but it is the best I can do.” Al nearly smiled as he reached up to wipe a tear. “You know,” he said half choking on the lump in his throat. “I could have gotten you silk lining if you had let me sell this ridiculous suit of armor.” He laughed once, a forced, short lived moment that had the sound of mirth but carried with it none of the joy.

  *****

  “Hey, boss, I found something,” a miner called out as he rolled a large boulder out from a pile of stones leading into a small side chamber that was only a few feet deep and perhaps a yard wide.

  The crew leader walked up and whistled as he approached a large mound of pink crystals sprouting up under the heavy boulders. “Alright, clear a bit more of this rubble out of the way and start mining that up,” the boss said.

  “When do you think this stuff formed here?” the miner asked.

  The crew leader shrugged. “Beats me. I would wager that if this patch of crystal had been here before they closed the shaft down originally, they would have e
xtracted it already. Don’t know how it could form here, under all this rubble, but this will maybe earn us a dinner with the king, if we’re lucky.”

  A couple of the other miners laughed.

  They were quick about moving the stones away and then they set to work chipping the crystals out of the mound.

  Lemi, the explosives expert, started making a few bombs, just in case they wanted to try and blow the wall to see if there was anything else out to the side. He set the fuses and pulled his matches out onto his lap as he watched the others collect the pink crystals.

  “Is it just me, or does this crystal feel warm?” one of the miners asked.

  “Aye, it does a bit, doesn’t it,” another replied.

  The crew leader brought a large sack over and set it down in front of the others and they began putting the crystal inside.

  Lemi finished his third bomb and was about to set them aside when he felt a sudden gush of wind. He looked up, and suddenly a large creature appeared atop the mound. Lemi raised his hand and shouted out a warning, but it was too late. A long, white claw ripped through one of the miners. The creature had shaggy black fur along its back and shiny, black scales along its underbelly. It snarled and displayed fearsome fangs.

  The crew leader turned and was about to call out for the guards, but at that moment another creature seemed to appear out of nothing from the top of the mound. This second creature was brown, with glowing, orange veins running beneath its skin. A pair of fiery wings jutted out from its back and it held a mighty spear in its left hand. Without hesitation, the demon threw the spear through the crew leader’s neck.

  Lemi did the only thing he could think of, he lit a bomb and threw it at the demon. The bomb arced over the winged creature and landed on the crystal mound. A moment later, it exploded, sending shards of crystal everywhere. A half-second after the black, scaly monster was obliterated, a large shard of stone pierced Lemi’s chest. The dwarf slumped to the side and looked down at his chest. Blood seeped out around the wound.

  He looked up and saw that the mound of crystals was now buried in stone. The other miners were dead, but the demon was walking toward Lemi, and it was angry. Lemi’s last thought was how far the demon could make it through the tunnels before someone could stop it. Then a massive, clawed foot came down and crushed the life out of him.

  *****

  Al closed his eyes.

  He placed a hand on Alferug’s cold chest and then patted his friend affectionately before moving to take his place at the pulpit. The bodyguards took up their protective positions, and began admitting those invited to the funeral rite. Al watched as the other members of the council entered the room, followed by Alferug’s immediate and extended family. Alferug’s wife had passed on twenty years before, but his children and their families still remained. There were also cousins, nieces and nephews, and a host of grandchildren, great grandchildren, and other descendants. The room was filled within minutes.

  Al looked down, hoping somehow that Alferug would yet rise from his coffin and apologize for causing everyone to worry. He knew that wouldn’t happen, but he couldn’t help but wish for it.

  The doors closed then, echoing throughout the shrine and signaling that it was time for Al to begin.

  He looked out at the crowd and then he turned his eyes to the four half-columns. He then glanced down to Alferug and offered a sincere smile to his departed friend.

  “As king,” Al began. “It is incumbent upon me to give a rote speech during the funeral rites. I am to talk about how we were formed from the stone in Roegudok Hall, and thus when we die we shall return to what gave us life, thereby completing a cycle. However, when I look at Alferug, my dearest friend inside the mountain, I cannot recite the words. They feel hollow, and I think all of you would agree with me when I say that that wouldn’t be good enough for Alferug Henezard.” Al pointed to the four half-columns. “Look to those columns and you will see a single rune carved into each one. Honor. Truth. Courage. Duty.” Al took a breath and nodded his head as he let the crowd glance at the pillars for a moment.

  “Alferug Henezard exemplified each of those traits. He lived his life with honor. He sought for, and cherished the truth. His sense of duty was unfailing, as I can attest, having seen him when he was exiled. He remained close to Roegudok Hall even then, when my brother shunned him and banished him from the mountain. He did this because he truly cared about each and every dwarf in this mountain. No one can question his courage either. He not only helped me confront Threnton, but he also gave his life for mine when Threnton and a group of assassins attacked me in my bedchamber.”

  Al felt a tear fall from his eye, but he made no move to wipe it from his face. “I am proud to have called him friend. I am honored to have benefitted from his mentoring. I am hopeful, that I will live up to his legacy. I would go so far as to say we likely all feel the same way.”

  Al reached into the shelf at the back of the pulpit and pulled a crystal bell.

  “It is said, that this was the first crystal mined from Roegudok Hall. If we are to believe the books of the kings, this crystal was found the day the first prince was born in Roegudok Hall. It was fashioned into a bell, to be rung whenever a dwarf dies in Roegudok Hall.” Al rang the bell once. It’s sharp, delicate sound reverberated through the chamber. “We ring the bell to announce to the mountain that another dwarf’s body is returning home to the womb that created him.” Al rang the bell again. “We ring the bell to announce to Nage that a noble dwarf spirit is ready to cross over the rainbow bridge and take his place in Volganor, the Heaven City.” Al rang the bell once more. “We ring the bell so that the departed may know we have not forgotten them.”

  The adults in the audience produced small, brass bells of their own. In unison, they repeated the ritual with Al. They rang their bells the first time, the sounds and pitches mixing and mingling. They spoke the same words Al had spoken. When the ritual was completed, the dwarves rose and filtered out of the shrine.

  Al placed the crystal bell back onto the shelf and waited until all of the others had exited the shrine, then he moved down and closed the stone casket. A team of dwarves led by the mortician, all dressed in black robes, pushed a long, four-wheeled cart.

  “We are ready to move him into the catacombs,” the mortician said.

  “Rest well, my friend,” Al told Alferug. “Keep a watchful eye on us from above.”

  Al stayed in the shrine for a couple of hours after they had wheeled Alferug’s body away, sitting on the first pew in the room and staring at the mural painted on the wall behind the pulpit. He would have stayed there for the remainder of the day, except there was a terrible commotion that erupted outside the shrine.

  Al rose to his feet, but the bodyguards were first to the door.

  “What is it?” Al asked.

  One of the body guards signaled for the others to protect Al, then he turned to the king. “I will go and see, Sire. Please, stay here.”

  The bodyguard disappeared out through the door, but it didn’t take long for Al to understand what was happening. He heard a loud, terrible roar that nearly shook the stone walls of the mountain.

  “We have woken a demon,” Al said. He looked to his guards, “Come, we must protect our people!”

  CHAPTER 13

  Year 2, Age of Demigods

  301st year of the reign of Sylus Magdinium, 5th King of Roegudok Hall.

  Sylus coughed and pulled the wool blanket tighter around his shoulders as he struggled to keep his hand from shaking. He had to finish writing his book. It had been over two years since he had last seen Tu’luh. The dwarf folk were recovering slowly from the heavy casualties they suffered in the deeper mines, but there was prosperity to be had for all.

  Mine thirty-seven had been closed off with the large mithril portcullis and the tunnel leading to the giant chamber had been collapsed by the hand of a dozen explosives engineers. The bloodgrass had died and was no longer growing in Roegudok Hall. The lurkers and demo
ns no longer assaulted the dwarves, and the tunnels that remained open were safe.

  Yet Sylus was plagued by dreams in the night.

  He saw the bloodgrass returning. He saw a future king opening the mithril portcullis and reawakening the demons sleeping in the great depths of the lower tunnels. He saw blood and destruction returning to his people. For this cause, he penned a special book. In it, he spoke of his plight with the demons and lurkers. He warned against trusting the Ancients, and he all but forbade reopening the lower mines.

  Sylus sighed as he pulled his shaking hand back from the page. He set his pen down into the inkwell and reached for a cobalt blue bottle with a cork stopper. He pulled the stopper free and drank half of the bottle’s contents. The cool liquid tingled as it slid down his throat. Then, a few seconds later, his stomach burned. Sylus gripped the edge of the desk as the burning spread through his entire body. He hated the medicine, but he knew it was the only thing keeping the tremors at bay. As the burning moved into his arm, his hand ceased to shake. His mind cleared, and he was once again able to create the delicate runes of the dwarven language.

  It had taken him the better part of a month to write about the dangers of mine thirty-seven. As he finished describing the horrors he had witnessed, he began to have a new kind of nightmare. He saw the well go dry, leaving the dwarves of Roegudok Hall without water. Then he saw the gold, silver, mithril, and gems disappear from the mines. He saw the aftermath of a great war in the Middle Kingdom. Worse than that, he saw that the only way for Roegudok Hall to restore its wealth, and save its people from starvation, would be to reopen the mine where his sons had perished.

  He saw the king who would find mine thirty-seven, and noted that bloodgrass would return to the mountain weeks before this future king would stumble into the bowels of Terramyr, and thus awaken the demons. No matter how hard he tried to focus on his visions, he could never see beyond the point that the future king opened the mithril portcullis set deep within the mines.