“Friar!” Telon ordered. “You will not die today! Your king has not given you permission! Your wife has not bid you farewell! You must wake up and wait for both!” he commanded of Friar. Telon was a powerful dwarf, and he was not ready to bid farewell to Friar, of whom he was quite fond.
Friar snapped back quickly, afraid of what Telon might do to him should he pass. “Yes, Sire!” he responded. “Forgive me!”
Tegan was astonished by Telon’s act, and more so its consequence on the old dwarf. He looked back at Friar, “You are forgiven. For what, I do not know, but you are forgiven! Go, now, and heal in your home until the day your king grants your permission to go.” Nearby dwarves hurriedly gathered Friar and carried him to his dwelling, away from Telon.
“What are you doing?” chided Tegan. “I had to send him away before you hit him again,” he said, amused at the strange turn of events.
“Well…” Telon began. “I do not tolerate quitters. He can’t just go dying on us without permission. If he lives, it just hurts him a little. If he dies, that little slap isn’t gonna hurt him none,” he continued, feeling quite sure he had done the right thing.
“I suppose you are right,” Tegan said as they began walking back to re-check the braces. “I just hope you never have to slap me that hard,” he said with a chuckle.
The two brothers laughed deeply. It was yet another story in the long line of tales that would be told for generations to come about the benevolent princes of Tunder Bin. All who were present hoped times like these would last forever.
Chapter 2: Murder in the Forest
Though at times the project seemed in jeopardy of failure, it was now completed. Tegan and Telon, covered in that ancient mixture of sweat, blood, tears, and soot, wearily, triumphantly staggered up the grand staircase toward their evening meal. The many in attendance congratulated the brothers as they walked by. Tegan returned the embraces of congratulation along the way, but Telon hurried past, brushing by those who revered him most. He began muttering his criticism of everything about the project that could have gone wrong.
Tegan stopped him on the steps. “Brother,” he scolded, “stop this nonsense! The project is complete, and we all lived to talk about it. That needs to be enough! I will not live my life by the what ifs that you obsessively cling to!”
Telon froze, not knowing what to say, but, as always, Tegan saved him by grasping his shoulder, pointing him in the next direction. “Now…” Telon began, “…for our next project, we need to figure out a more efficient water system for the upper levels of the mountain.”
Their conversation halted abruptly as Coric, an army general of the highest order, appeared at the top of the stairs. Upon spotting the brothers, he quickly covered the ground between them, a look of panic contorting his face.
Out of breath, he struggled to gather himself for the proper salute to the sons of the King. His royal armor (torso shell, wrist bracers, and jeweled helmet) was covered in blood. He was in quite a state of agitation, it took a few moments for Tegan to calm him. Coric still clung to his shield and axe, and looked very pale.
“Friend,” said Tegan, his calloused hand placed on the general’s shoulder, “slow yourself and deliver your message.”
Coric took a deep, choppy breath, and said, “Lords Tegan and Telon, you must come quick! It is your father!” He motioned with his shield for the two to follow him.
“What has happened?” asked Tegan, as he and Telon began following Coric.
“Quickly, sir! There is no time to explain. Your father has fallen! You must follow me now!”
They trailed Coric quickly out of the long furnace room. They asked no further questions, and the general offered no further explanation. Their minds raced with worry for their father’s safety.
They hurriedly navigated one of the low passages out of the mountain. It was dusk when they emerged, and they traveled so quickly that the torches they grabbed along the way were of little use as they entered the dark woods. They were slightly above the base of the mountain, just above the maple groves that blanketed its base. The evergreens blocked the fading sunlight, creating an early and eerie darkness. The trees flew by quickly as they ran toward a waterfall that separated the lands of the dwarves and the goblins.
“It is right ahead!” Coric exclaimed as he neared his physical limits.
“Where is my father?” demanded Tegan. His patience was at its limits as well. Coric’s silence was getting the best of him. Coric picked up speed as they rounded a boulder which protruded from the mountainside. Tegan’s patience was at its end, but before he could speak, he nearly toppled Coric, who had come to a sudden halt at the edge of a clearing and dropped to his knees, searching frantically for breath.
Tegan skidded to a halt, followed closely by Telon. The sight that owned their vision told them all they needed to know. Before them was the remains of a battle. A bloody one. Spiritless dwarves covered the clearing. Among them were a few goblin bodies, but far less of them than any dwarf would have expected. The dwarf bodies were mutilated, most of them missing limbs and vital body parts. The clearing seemed more the aftermath of a blood storm than a bloodbath. Tegan and Telon searched frantically for their father, checking to see if any others yet lived as they went.
The scene was too much for Telon, and he already had little trust in Coric. He grabbed Coric, pulled him to his feet, and pinned him against a tree. “Where is my father?” he demanded as Coric struggled for breath. “How is it all are dead except you? Explain how you alone escaped and you alone are alive!”
Telon’s vice-like grip around Coric’s throat hampered what little speech he could manage. “I was not with them,” he croaked. “They left before me. Earlier today.” Telon loosened his grip a little and Coric managed another breath. “I was just on watch… I heard the battle… by the time I found them… all were dead.”
“Telon! Here!” Tegan shouted from behind a tree.
Telon dropped Coric and rushed to his brother. Tegan rolled what was left of a goblin carcass aside, revealing a dwarf body hidden underneath. It was the King, their father.
Moro’s eyes fluttered. Slowly he opened them, sensing his sons near him. Tegan and Telon cradled and pulled him to their laps. Moro had taken many wounds. He could not speak as blood pooled in his throat. Much of his armor was battered, pierced, dented, cracked, and largely covered in blood. He still wore the King’s crown, but his injuries foretold that he would not be king much longer.
“Father,” Tegan said in almost a whisper. “What has happened? Who did this?” He could not comprehend that mere goblins could have bested his father’s guard. Slaughtering a whole troop of dwarves was no small task.
Moro tried to speak, but he had already used his last words. He could only clutch the arms of his mighty sons and pull them closer to his heart, trying to borrow their strength but for a little longer. Moro’s glassy eyes moved from one son to the other one last time. He felt great pride in what they had both become. He prayed that he was a good enough father to them. He had hoped to live long enough to see them both marry, have children, and grow into the great men of their destinies. Death waited impatiently for him and urged him to cross quickly. Moro drew his last breath and submitted to the inevitable. He passed into the otherworld. He would never see another day of his son’s lives.
He took the story of the massacre with him as his hands went limp, the light in his eyes vanished, and his spirit left his body.
Tegan sat silently. He thought about his father’s great works. His sorrow grew with each beat of his own heart until it was completely engulfed. His own breath left him. He stood warily, struggling to fill his lungs with air. A million memories raced through his mind, and the terror at the thought of what was directly before him. He would soon be the King.
Tegan then realized that Telon was gone. He looked at the distraught Coric, and demanded, “Where did he go?” Coric only pointed down the hill, his own grief stealing his will. Telon wildly stalked afte
r the goblins who murdered his father, wanting to exact quick revenge. More dwarves were coming down the mountain toward Tegan, led by Jaric, the head of the king’s guard. Tegan embraced his father one more, kissed him, and set him down gently. He found his feet, grabbed his axe, and shot down the hill after Telon. There had been more intent than just killing these dwarves, and the retribution from Tegan’s attack would be equally gruesome. Vengeance would soon be theirs.
Δ
Tegan slogged through the thick forest in pursuit of Telon. The trail left by his brother and marauding goblins was not difficult to find, even in the dark of night. The goblins left in haste, making little attempt to hide their escape route. Tegan listened desperately for any sound of his brother, but the only thing that filled his ears was the swoosh of branches whizzing by. He ignored the thunderous beat of his raging heart that was trying to burst through his chest as he raced against time to catch up with Telon. He feared that Telon would find more than he could handle at the end of his race. Anger and rage were Tegan’s fuel. He would not allow the loss of his father and brother in the same day.
It was long after midnight when Tegan finally heard the rumblings of a battle ahead. The squeal of goblins interrupted the quiet night. Telon had caught up with his prey. Tegan drew his axe as he burst into the campsite of the coward assassin goblins. Telon was in the middle of those that still lived, hacking away with his axe in a mad, albeit reckless, rage.
Telon’s desire for revenge was strong. Under any other circumstances, he never would have done this without Tegan. He was normally too cautious for reckless action. Six goblins surrounded him. Then five. It was a gory exchange. Goblin blood flew everywhere. In his hasty, bitter taste for revenge, Telon overextended himself. He was surrounded, and his backside was open to attack. A goblin saw this and aimed for a kill shot.
The goblin did not see Tegan, and was too slow. Tegan leapt and swung his axe mightily, connecting with the back of the wretched creature. The sharp bade landed decisively between the shoulder blades of the creature, splitting most of his fat body in two. This brought great, instant satisfaction to Tegan. He tried to withdraw his axe, but it was buried too deep within the dead beast. He then drew his blade. Two goblins remained. Telon had not yet noticed his brother and was busy taking one of them to the ground.
The second goblin swung his sword at Tegan. He easily blocked it and thrust his knife into the thick belly of his foe. He lifted the blade, and the goblin along with it. He stared deeply into the goblin’s eyes and watched its light fade, and then burn out forever.
Telon had disarmed the remaining goblin. Tegan was dismayed as Telon then threw aside his own weapon. The goblin was equally surprised, and couldn’t move fast enough to escape as the prince’s hands flew at his throat. Telon squeezed with all the strength he had. Long after the goblin stopped trying to draw a breath, still Telon squeezed.
“It is done,” Tegan said gently as he placed a bloody hand on Telon’s equally bloody forearm. Telon let the lifeless goblin body fall to the forest floor. Telon was still enraged. Revenge consumed him. He grabbed the nearest weapon he could find and began hacking at the dead goblin bodies. Tegan dared not interfere with his brother’s uncontrollable fury. It would have been difficult for anyone that happened upon the gruesome scene to know what poor beasts lay massacred on the ground.
His rage finally exhausted, Telon could hack no more. He slumped down on a rock. His rage was replaced with sorrow, and he wept. Tegan sat next to his brother. Together, in the far east wood of Tunder Bin they mourned for the loss of their father.
Tegan reluctantly pulled himself from his sorrow and to his feet. His next duty was to discover, if possible, what had happened. He and Telon began searching for more clues from the fallen goblins, but they only found more questions.
“Am I to believe mere goblins were able to best our king’s guard?” Tegan wondered aloud. “They were no match for the two of us, yet they wiped out more than ten fully armed warriors? Even if they were taken by surprise, it should not have been.”
“It cannot have been,” Telon answered. “There must have been more. Many more.” Telon answered, searching for signs of another patrol.
“Can goblins fly? For I saw no other tracks,” Tegan replied half mockingly as he looked for the tracks of another patrol as well. “Let’s look more closely.” They first looked around the site to see if there were tracks leading away from it. Seeing none, they made their way back to where their father lay. Both of them thought of their mother. They knew how hard she would take the news. They would have no answers for the questions to come.
The brothers mourned in silence as they returned to the site where their father had fallen. Jaric had torches placed around the site and secured the area, waiting for their return. They filed into the camp as all the dwarves there stood in revered silence for the loss bore by the two princes. The sight of Telon covered in goblin blood made even the strongest of them step back in amazement.
Tegan addressed Jaric. “Have you seen any sign of the enemy?”
“Only in the direction you went,” replied Jaric.
“Those have been taken care of,” Telon murmured solemnly. He moved slowly to the fire and stared into it. He proceeded to lay his weapons on the ground in front of him, one by one. “These I will soon need,” he said. “They will be cleaned and sharpened. As for the goblins that sneak and murder, they will hunt no more.” He would not forget this turn dealt him and his revenge would be paid back many times over before his pain would pass.
“Let us wait until the sun comes up,” Jaric suggested. “It will only be an hour or so,” he said as he looked skyward. “We will then take Moro back to his people and break the news to Deyanira that she is widowed.”
“It should not have been,” Tegan lamented. “Father took my tour so that I could finish the pipeline. It was I that should have been here. Not he.”
“It would not have been better if it were you that died instead,” Telon argued. “You could not have stopped it either. Do not own this blame.” Telon then took an uneasy breath and then continued, “No one can tell me that those wretched goblins were capable of taking out the patrolling guard alone.”
Tegan heard his brother’s words, but brushed them aside. He felt responsible for all of it.
Telon was bewildered, but could not allow Tegan to own the day. He could also not accept the most likely answer as to how his father died. How could one so mighty as he, fall to ones so low?
Coric stepped forward and addressed both Telon and Tegan. “I, too am deeply sorry for your loss. The king was like a father to me as well. If the sounds of the battle had reached my ears earlier, we might have been able to save them.”
Tegan turned to Coric in reply. “My father was very fond of you, Coric. He was proud to have you in his service.”
Telon would not look at Coric. He gave no reply. Despite the horrifying events of the night, the sun did indeed rise. It brought no happiness for the troops, however. The soldiers knew all too well the pain that the news of Moro’s death would bring to the people. They carried the weight of that burden with every step back from the mountain. The news of the murder of the king traveled ahead of them. Many dwarves lined the entrance to the city. They laid flowers at the feet of the soldiers carrying the dead. In all, twelve dwarves passed at the hands of the marauders. The last to return was Moro, carried by soldiers and followed closely by both of his sons.
Deyanira, Moro’s wife, awaited them at the city’s entrance. She was already dressed in black. The soldiers set Moro down before her. Deyanira pulled back her veil, revealing the face of a woman who looked beyond her middle-age years. She had already witnessed her share of both joy and pain, and every wrinkle of her face had a story of its own. This day would have its own chapter in the book of her life. It was a chapter she wished had never been written.
Deyanira became inconsolable at the sight of her husband. Both of her sons came to her aid as she began to lose her
legs beneath her. The deep pain and sorrow within her bombarded her soul and stole her strength. She clutched her sons close, looking to them for every reminder and memory of her beloved king.
Mourning at the loss of Moro lasted for weeks, but the stories and rumors about what really happened to their great king ran wild in the streets and lasted far longer. No one really knew what had occurred, but many theories flourished. Word of Moro’s passing was sent to the other four dwarf tribes, along with requests that each send a delegation for the funeral. The same delegation would attend the coronation of the next King of Tunder Bin (and all Lemuria). Moro’s first son, Tegan would be their new King.
Chapter 3: An Unexpected Meeting
“Does it bother you?” Deyanira asked as she placed the silver band around her young prince’s head.
“Does what bother me?” Telon asked. “It is Tegan’s birthday. What would bother me?” The adolescent prince threw his arms in the air and started jumping up and down excitedly. “There will be a great party! With lots of presents, too!”
“Someday,” said Deyanira, “many years from now, your brother will be King of Lemuria, and you will not. Is it something you think about?” Deyanira asked as she focused her fidgety son by holding his shoulders.
“No,” replied Telon. “Because I will be a mighty warrior for Tunder Bin, and the people will love me and cheer for me, just like my brother!” He was excited and proud for Tegan, and wanted to be just like him.
“Yes, of course they will,” she agreed dryly, and then smiled lovingly at her son, conceding the moment. Deyanira straightened Telon’s clothes one last time. Tegan’s tenth birthday party was about to begin. It was his coming of age celebration, and Tegan would start his life of military training the very next week, as was the dwarf custom. Telon would reach his tenth year soon, and begin his own training as well.
The Demon's Chamber Page 3
