Eberon's Sword

by Rick Brown

  “And it won’t be tomorrow, if that what ya be thinking,” Lillia announced as she joined us. “Ya got the entire dwarven people waiting to see ya. You aren’t running off yet to play with ya friends.”

  Orlik sighed. “More greeting folk? Seems I’ve greeted everyone in the whole of Olingard already.”

  “Too long ya been hiding out in gods know where and away from your own kind,” Lillia said with her arms crossed. “Ya got to go visitin’ the different areas of Olingard. It be a month at least.”

  “A month would be fine,” I agreed with her. “I have things to settle here as well.”

  “Fine,” Orlik agreed begrudgingly. “A month, then we be off to Spellion. I’ve got to meet the other kings, after all,” he replied weakly.

  Lillia dragged Orlik away, and I found myself once again mingling with dwarves I didn't know while avoiding offers of fermented mushroom. I felt a tug at my sleeve and turned to find Kayla standing before me.

  “Your Highness,” I said with a slight bow. “Enjoying your evening?”

  She looked down at the still full mug of fermented mushroom brew she was holding. “I’ve had better,” she admitted, “but the ceremony was lovely.”

  “I’ve been dodging that drink myself. If you find Barad, he’ll take it from you,” I said with a laugh.

  Kayla had a look of relief pass her face. “Thank goodness, Guin is the only one that will drink this stuff, and he went back to our rooms to pack.”

  “Leaving already?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I want to get home and start laying the groundwork for your arrival. If we are to break the Dommerian’s hold over Father, it will need to be dramatic.”

  I nodded. "Don't worry. I have something in mind."

  “I hope so. Anyway, we’ll be leaving at first light. You?”

  “We’ll be waiting for Orlik. It will be at least a month,” I told her.

  "Good. That will give me time," she said with a smile. "I'll see you there." With that, she slipped into the crowd and disappeared — no small feat in a room filled with dwarves.

  After a few minutes, Barad approached me carrying two drafts of fermented mushroom. "Here," he said as he handed it to me. "The Princess gave me this." I frowned as I took the drink. It seems my advice backfired on me.

  “To King Orlik,” Barad said as he held up the drink. It was easy to tell he had already drunk too much, but the crowd around us was enthusiastic in their response.

  "To King Orlik!" they yelled back. Everyone quickly lifted their drinks and started to swallow down their mugs.

  Giving Barad a dirty look, I dutifully lifted the mug and drank down the contents to the new King. "To King Orlik!” I shouted.

  Epilogue

  High Priest Grenlow fumed as his wagon rode back to Dommeran. How could so much have gone so wrong? He wondered.

  King Eberon was in his grasp, held prisoner by Grenlow's own werewolves. Yet, somehow, he escaped. Killing all of his werewolves in the process. Not only that, he now held both the sword and the Tear. It could only be considered an utter failure — one for which Ambassador Benlok paid for with his life. Grenlow could only hope that the Ambassadors agonizing death would be enough to satisfy Gorath. The god was not known for his forgiving nature. And the loss of the werewolves, that pained Grenlow. still, Grenlow thought with a smile. I have other beasts I can call on.

  He pulled out his dagger, still wet from the sacrifices of that morning. Gazing into the ruby stone on the hilt, he smiled. He could still hear the screams of the souls trapped inside. Their torment eased his troubled mind. No matter how much power Alynon's Tear may hold, it would never withstand the forces that Grenlow now held in his hand. Upon return to Dommeran, he would increase the number of daily sacrifices. Then no one will be able to stand before him.

  “High Priest!” A guard called from outside the wagon.

  “What?” Grenlow demanded. Angry at the interruption.

  “We are entering Dommeran now,” the guard answered.

  “Yes, yes. Now go away,” Grenlow growled. Once again, he gazed into the blood red ruby. Soon, all lands would be known as ‘Dommeran’. These weak and pathetic rulers would feel the burn of Gorath’s heart. Then all would answer to him.

  Here ends Book 3 of ‘The Lost Kingdom of Alsselya’