Two Necromancers, a Dwarf Kingdom, and a Sky City

by L. G. Estrella

  After crossing the other bridges – and grabbing Spot by his slightly less stubby tail to prevent him diving into the chasm to see how the lava at the bottom tasted – they finally reached the massive doors of the city.

  “Behold!” Galdur cried. “The great doors of Cavernholme, capital of the dwarves of the Broken Mountains!”

  “Huh.” Avraniel tilted her head to one side. “Is that gold and platinum on the doors.”

  The dwarf nodded. “Yes, but they are only decorative. The true strength of the doors can be found in the adamant and other nigh-indestructible materials used in their construction. However, we didn’t want them to look plain. They’re the first thing most people see, so we needed them to look good, which is why they’re decorated with precious metals and gemstones.”

  He must have misunderstood her. She wasn’t interested in the practicality or durability of the doors. “How much do you think they’re worth?” The gemstone closest to her was almost the size of her fist. Spot had started to drool, and she nudged him with her foot. “No eating the doors.” He hadn’t eaten anything made of adamant yet, and she was curious to know if he could. The incredibly rare and valuable metal was practically indestructible and largely impervious to magic. It was one of the few substances in the world considered on par with, or perhaps even better than, dragon scale.

  But they look tasty…

  “No. You are not eating the doors.”

  The idiot – Timmy – gave her a teasing look, and she scowled. He was getting a little too comfortable poking fun at her. Perhaps he needed a light singeing to remind him whom he was dealing with. “No stealing them either.” He tapped the door with his shovel, and his magic rustled outward. Ah, right. His earth magic could also be used to determine the composition of certain kinds of objects. “Although going by its composition and the average market price of the components…”

  He gave his estimate of the value of the doors, and Avraniel gaped. The doors were worth that much? Damn. If she wasn’t surrounded by twitchy dwarves and about to enter a city full of more of them, she might have been tempted to blow one of the doors off its hinges and run off with it. Then again, it was probably too heavy to lift. She’d have to get Gerald to store the door with her magic and then grab him and run. Oh well. She’d have to see if she could find some good loot elsewhere. After all, she had wiped out most of the goblins’ leadership herself. That had to be worth a hefty reward or something, right? Her budget for the next century or so was looking quite healthy, but she was an elf. A century wasn’t all that long, all things considered, and she need to think about Spot too. She didn’t want him to miss out on anything while he was growing up, and there was no time like the present to secure the future.

  As the partially open doors opened wider to admit them and the growing numbers of dwarves returning to the city from the battlefield, Avraniel put a soothing hand on Spot’s back. The little dragon – and despite being more than seven feet long, he was still little for a dragon – was tense. As ferocious as he was, he was still very young, and being around so many new people that were all heavily armed put him on edge. It did not help that all of the sights and smells were new as well. He gave a low trill, and Chomp came over to walk beside him. The dog gave him a comforting nudge, and Spot huffed.

  I’m not worried. The dragon nevertheless remained close to Chomp, his gaze shifting restlessly over the crowd of dwarves.

  Avraniel scratched his back. “Relax. If they try anything…” She bared her teeth. “We’ll make them regret it.”

  Chomp gave a low rumble of agreement, but he looked far more comfortable about entering the city than Spot. Well, she had found him in a labyrinth, which wasn’t all that different from where they’d be going. Labyrinth hounds were supposed to like being underground, but dragons were creatures of the sky. Spot was always more comfortable when he had the open sky above him, but in typical draconic fashion, any trepidation he felt soon faded as the splendour of the city became apparent. And despite lacking the sinuous grace of an adult dragon, Spot still drew plenty of attention. The dwarves all knew what drakes looked like, and Spot was no mere drake hatchling.

  The hall that greeted them as they entered the city was truly splendid, a testament to the ingenuity and hard work of the dwarves and the equal or better of any she had seen. Crystals, lanterns, and various magical and mechanical devices cast warm light over the whole area and lent a cosy air to what could easily have been a dreary place. The fine craftsmanship of the dwarves was also evident in the galleries and balconies that lined the hall, and she found herself doing a mental tally of how much everything was worth as her gaze drifted from the vaulted ceiling high above them to the gleaming, polished stones beneath their feet. Titanic pillars covered with carvings that depicted the history of the dwarves soared upward, and towering statues of famous dwarves stood silent sentry alongside the path they took. Yep. These guys could definitely afford to send a sizeable reward her way for wiping out most of the goblins’ leadership. As they approached, the dwarves who had fought – almost all of them still in their armour – formed into ranks on either side of the path. They roared their approval and banged their weapons on their shields and armour.

  Spot bristled at the noise, but he seemed to sense the spirit in which it was offered. Avraniel tuned out the cheering. Words weren’t worth much to her. The elves, after all, had said all sorts of nice and pleasant things to her in the past to lower her suspicions before trying to kill or imprison her. Instead, she focused on the strategically located alcoves and carefully concealed niches scattered throughout the hall. If the goblins ever managed to breach the doors, they would be in for a fight. The dwarves would make them pay in blood for every inch they tried to take, and they would use those alcoves and niches to mount ambushes and set traps. The hall was large, which might seem to favour the goblins and their overwhelming numbers, but it was also the perfect size for two or three dwarf phalanxes to hold the area. As they continued through the vast hall, a retinue of dwarves came forward to meet them. Amongst them was the biggest dwarf that Avraniel had ever seen.

  The average dwarf was four and a half feet tall and weighed roughly the same as a grown man. This dwarf was huge. He had to be at least five and a half feet tall, which meant he stood head and shoulders above his peers. He was still shorter than Avraniel, but she was amused to realise he was taller than the twerp. She’d have to tease the girl about it later. Imagine being shorter than a dwarf. This guy was probably the king. His armour gleamed in the light, and there wasn’t so much as a scratch on it despite the blood and gore splattered all over it. Whatever his armour was made of, it was far durable than the armour the rest of the dwarves had. Gerald was standing next to him looking like he was about to throw up, so he had to be important. The paper pusher only got that nervous when he was dealing with someone really important.

  There was also something familiar about his magic. She’d definitely felt it before. Her brows furrowed, and then her lips curved into a smile. She’d seen a large metal golem slaughtering goblins and shrugging off siege weaponry while defending one of the bridges. This dwarf’s magic… it was the exact same magic she’d felt from the golem. Interesting. Was the golem a construct he could control, or did he turn into a golem? Either way, fighting him would be interesting, and it was nice to see a king who actually helped instead of cowering behind the walls while everyone else did the fighting and the dying.

  As the dwarf’s gaze drifted over each of them, Spot nudged her leg. The dwarf’s armour smelled similar to the doors. That meant it was made at least partially of adamant, which would make it very heavy. However, what dwarves lacked in height, they made up for in strength and stamina. A dwarf would never be able to outrun a human or an elf, but a dwarf could carry more weight than either – and carry it for longer too. This dwarf should be able to pick up a grown man and throw him around like a ragdoll.

  The tall dwarf moved to the front of his group. The axe he carried was caked
in blood and gore, and the ease with which he hefted the weapon spoke of enormous strength. This was no cowardly king. She smiled thinly. She would never respect a king just because he was a king. Any idiot could become a king by being born at the right time to the right parents. However, she could respect a king who had the courage to wade into battle and slaughter as many of his enemies as possible.

  The dwarf rapped one gauntleted fist against his chest. When he spoke, his voice was rough like most dwarves, but it was filled with the unwavering confidence of someone used to giving orders. “I am King Barin Ironbinder IV.” The crown-like addition he wore on his helm was indeed wrought of iron, but it was covered in enchantments and other magic. It must have been exceptionally pure iron too because Spot was practically drooling. “And on behalf of me and my people, I thank you for your aid today.” His deep voice echoed through the hall, and he took a moment to let his words linger in the air before he continued. “In time, perhaps, we would have driven them off, but our losses would have been great, and we dwarves are not so many that we can afford to be ungrateful for anything that saves our sons and daughters. A victory with such a high price would have brought only songs of mourning, not joy. But today is not a day of mourning. It is a day of joy. Tens of thousands of our enemies have been put to the sword, and our city has been made safe, and it is all thanks to the aid you have given us.”

  He inclined his head, and all of the other dwarves bowed low. “There is no greater gift that a king can receive than to have his people made safe. I am in your debt, and you will always be welcome within these halls.” He removed his helm. His hair and beard were steel grey, but his eyes were a piercing blue like finely cut sapphires. “Let all here witness my words and spread them far and wide. I name you all friends of the dwarves. Know that you are dwarves now in all but blood. If you ever need aid, then the dwarves of the Broken Mountains will answer. Blood for blood, steel for steel, honour for honour – that is our way.”

  The idiot was the one who stepped forward as applause and cheers shook the hall to its foundations. He waited until the clamour had died down before he spoke. He had changed into a different cloak at some point, which was probably a good idea since his normal one had started to look a bit tattered from all of the fighting they’d done at Lord Tarrick’s fortress. He didn’t have a beard yet, but he wasn’t clean-shaven either. She snickered. The dwarves favoured beards. They always had, and it wasn’t a coincidence that every merchant who dealt with them regularly sported an impressive beard.

  “No thanks are needed, Your Majesty, although they are much appreciated. We come on behalf of Everton, and it is only right and just that allies aid each other in their hour of need.”

  The king looked at him for a long moment before nodding. “Aye, you have the right of it. I imagine we have much to speak of.” Dwarves understood better than anyone that nothing in the world was free. They certainly weren’t about to go around slaughtering people’s enemies for free. The sort of help they’d provided meant they could ask for something big in return – like help in fighting the empire. “But for today, let us not speak of such things. Instead, we feast! Let the spirits of our slain enemies look up at us from the depths of the abyss and curse their stupidity and misfortune as we enjoy all that is good in life!”

  Avraniel smirked. The thought of mocking her defeated foes was a pleasant one. She wouldn’t mind roasting more goblins either, now that she thought about it. There was something relaxing about blasting away at her enemies without a care of the world. Toward the end, she’d even set herself a challenge to see how far one of her blasts could throw a goblin without disintegrating it. Spot had joined in too, but he was still learning the trick to making his fire more force than heat, so his stronger attacks had either reduced his targets to ash or disintegrated them entirely.

  Hopefully, though, the next bunch of goblins they fought would have stuff worth taking because as fun as it was making them fly around, she wanted something more to show for her efforts. The goblins had seized some of the dwarves’ cities, right? Surely, nobody would miss a few things if they happened to disappear while she and the others were taking back those cities. Right now, though, there was a feast to look forward to, and the dwarves were said to love good food as much as they loved a good vein of ore. The mention of food had put Spot in a much better mood, and he padded along beside her with a big smile and a spring in his step. She grinned. It was a lovely smile – except for the bits of goblin bone stuck between some of his teeth. She’d have to get the idiot to clean his teeth later.

  * * *

  Spot hadn’t spent much time around dwarves before. He’d met a few here and there while following his mother to different places, but this was the first time he’d seen so many or bothered to spend time with them. They had worried him at first. They all wore armour and carried weapons. They were definitely good at working with metal, and both their weapons and their armour looked really tasty. Fighting them wouldn’t be like fighting the goblins. They would be a lot tougher even though he was still confident he would win. When they had mentioned a feast, he had been overjoyed. Killing a goblin was easy, but there had been a lot of goblins, and they hadn’t tasted very nice at all. Even trolls tasted better. So he was very hungry, and what better way to get rid of his hunger than with a feast?

  While the others talked to the king and some other important dwarves, Spot focused on the food – and there was a lot of food. It looked and smelled great. There were huge roasted boars, finely cooked chicken, mountain goat, and meats of many other kinds, all of them cooked in different ways and with different herbs and spices. There were other things too – things he didn’t know the names of – but he couldn’t wait to try them. There were also lots of different drinks, as well as many different kinds of bread. When everyone had finished all of the talking they needed to do before they could eat – and there was a lot of talking to do before they could start – Spot finally got the okay from his mother to begin eating.

  Rather than eat at the table with the others, he got to eat next to Chomp not too far from his mother in a large open space. His mother had gotten mad because she wanted both of them to be at the table like when they were at the castle, but he didn’t mind. He was so hungry that he might make a big mess, and the dwarves had promised to bring him extra food to make up for it. He licked his lips. Extra food was always welcome.

  “It’s the first time I’ve seen a wee dragon,” one of the dwarves murmured, setting an entire roast boar down in front of Spot. He’d seen a few of these boars wandering around the mountains, but they’d been in too big a hurry to reach the dwarves for him to stop and catch one. “His mother says he can eat more than a family of dwarves, so we should get him started on the boar and work our way up from there.” The other dwarf who’d come along chuckled, and the dwarf addressed his next words to Spot. “There’s not a man alive who doesn’t enjoy a good, dwarf-style boar, laddie. I’d wager that goes for dragons too.”

  One of the ninja rats hopped onto Spot’s shoulder. He was munching on some grapes – most of the rats liked grapes – and he offered Spot some advice. The dragon nodded solemnly. A new meal like this deserved to be savoured. Spot took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the boar. His incredibly keen draconic senses picked up a multitude of smells, and he sought to match each of them to the ingredients that had been used in cooking the boar. Slowly, carefully, he used his claws to slice off a piece of the boar before putting it in his mouth.

  Rich, wholesome flavour filled his mouth, and he trilled in delight. This was fantastic! His tail wagged furiously as he chewed, savoured the taste, and then swallowed. Fire blazed in his eyes and kindled in his jaws. This boar was only the beginning. If the rest of the food was as good as this, then he wanted to try everything. He turned to the dwarf and reached out carefully. The twerp had told him to be careful when he spoke to people for the first time. If he wasn’t careful, it was like shouting right into people’s minds.

 
; This is good! I want to try everything else too!

  The dwarf, one with a thick, brown beard and kind eyes, threw his head back and laughed. “He likes it! Well, maybe we should have tried bribing dragons with good food instead of trying to fight them off. It might have saved us a lot of trouble.”

  Spot nodded in agreement. Good food was great. He wouldn’t eat anyone who could make tasty food unless they were evil or tried to take his stuff. Nobody took his stuff – except maybe Chomp or his mother. Sometimes, the dog liked to borrow stuff from his hoard, but he always brought it back, and he even helped Spot find more stuff to add to his hoard too.

  His mother came over and scratched his head. “So, you like the boar, huh? Make sure you try the roasted drake. After all, you did kill quite a few of them.”

  They had roasted drake? Spot’s eyes blazed even more brightly. He hadn’t eaten many drakes before since the idiot usually stopped him from eating any they killed, so they could be used for zombies. But eating drake cooked by the same people who had cooked the boar would be incredible. Spot bared his teeth. He couldn’t wait. Still grinning, he dug into the boar. He could finish the boar, have some drake, and keep going from there. On his shoulder, the rat patted his scales. The rodent was looking forward to some drake as well, not to mention the honey-baked ham. Spot paused and turned his head to look at the rat.