The Dwarven Rebellion

by J. J. Thompson

  Jergen tilted his head slightly as he looked at Shandon.

  “You bear a strong resemblance to him, if you don't mind my saying so,” he said.

  “I don't mind anymore,” Shandon replied ruefully. “Back when I was bold and brash, I would have, but time does tend to soften the edges of memories, even bitter ones. I realize now just how hard he worked for the good of the kingdom. It wasn't his fault that we've diminished so much over the past several centuries. Hell's bells, it isn't anyone's fault, really. It's just what it is. But enough of that. Go on with your story.”

  “There isn't much else to tell, my lord. Our visit to the city is one of my most enduring childhood memories and I cherish it to this day. I'm not one to believe in fate, as you know, but meeting you when you first came to Ender Scorn seems almost predestined now. We fought together for years before you revealed your true name to me and now I serve you here in the very place that I remember so fondly. Strange, isn't it?”

  Shandon began walking again and Jergen strode along with him.

  “Perhaps it is. But I call it coincidence, not fate, my friend,” the king said thoughtfully. “I don't believe in destiny. We forge our own paths in life, for good or ill, and then we live with the consequences. But I am happy that we met, even if it was just by accident.”

  They reached the doors and one of the guards offered a heavy axe to Jergen.

  “Your weapon, captain,” he said formally.

  “Thank you.”

  Jergen hooked the axe on to his belt and then waited with the king as two of the guards pulled open the heavy metal doors.

  “Your day is done, warriors,” Shandon told the four guards. “Seal the throne room after us and report to your duty commander. Tell him that I've released you for the night. You're earned your rest.”

  The guards snapped to attention in unison, their heavy armor, inlaid with the royal seal, ringing as they moved.

  “Thank you, my lord,” the ranking warrior said gratefully.

  Shandon smiled at her and the others.

  “No, thank you,” he said to them. “I know how hard it is to stand for hours in armor, I assure you, and I am grateful to all of you. Have a good night.”

  “And you as well, my lord.”

  Shandon and Jergen left the throne room and entered a long hallway. They turned to the left and began walking along a deep red carpet. Glowing fixtures set into the ceiling high above them bathed them in light as they moved. It was very quiet.

  “They love you, you know.”

  The king glanced at Jergen.

  “Who loves me?”

  “The guardsmen. And the rest of the troops. They consider you one of them, not some pampered noble who's never gotten his hands dirty.”

  Shandon laughed.

  “That's because I am one of them, my friend. You know that better than anyone. How much blood did we shed together over the years in defense of Ender Scorn, hmm? How many nights did we stand watch, or walk the perimeter, or scout out the local routes connected to the deep roads? I was a working soldier a hell of a lot longer than I was a prince at court, you know. And I'd still be one today if my father hadn't been so foolish and ignored the traitorous murmurs that grew around him year after year. How any king could have been so blind after ruling for so long is still a mystery to me. Was he willfully stupid? Too trusting? Or was it something else? I suppose we'll never know.”

  They passed several guards as they walked through the halls of the palace. The warriors were posted at key points throughout the building and each of them snapped to attention as the king walked past.

  Shandon had a word or two for every one of them and Jergen listened and nodded in approval each time the king spoke to the guards.

  When they reached the royal chambers, a pair of warriors were standing there, one male and one female. They saluted as the king approached and Shandon smiled at them.

  “At ease,” he said. “How are you both doing tonight?”

  “We are well, my lord.”

  “Good. If you see Pieter, let him through, all right? I expect that he'll follow along soon enough, especially since he knows that there's ale to be had.”

  The guards relaxed and chuckled.

  “We will do that, my lord,” the woman said with a grin.

  “Thank you.”

  Shandon opened the door and stepped inside, with Jergen right behind him. He closed the door and walked forward several steps.

  “I expected you earlier,” a voice said sardonically. “What happened? Were you stuck listening to some long-winded supplicant again?”

  Jergen yanked the axe from his belt and whirled around, staring into a dark corner of the room.

  Shandon reached out quickly, blocking the warrior with his outstretched arm.

  “Easy, my friend. Easy. It's just Hallic, up to his old tricks.”

  After a brief moment of hesitation, Jergen let out a long breath and hooked the axe on to his belt again.

  “One day you'll get your head split open like a melon if you keep surprising armed dwarves like that,” he growled.

  Hallic stepped out of the shadows, a wide grin on his face. He was wearing a simple brown tunic and trousers and looked quite unremarkable.

  “Your reflexes will have to improve a damned sight more than that before I worry about my poor head, Jergen,” he said merrily. “Besides, it keeps you on your toes. These days, staying alert is a necessary skill.”

  The king's smile faded as he stared keenly at the rogue.

  “You saw my son, I take it?” he asked softly.

  “I did, my lord,” Hallic told him.

  “Good. Save your report for a few moments. I want to get out of this finery and have a mug of ale in my hand before your share your news. Jergen, turn on a few lights and crack open a keg, would you? I'll be back shortly.”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  Shandon walked across the entry room, which was richly decorated with deep carpets, rich wood paneling on the walls and a half dozen heavy chairs. Several large paintings of heroic battles hung from the walls, depicting dwarves fighting a variety of monsters.

  The king left the room just as Jergen flipped on several switches near the entrance. Tall lamps standing at each corner flickered to life and lit up the room with a soft, warm glow.

  “You could have turned on the lights when you got here,” Jergen said to Hallic.

  The rogue winked at him.

  “And spoiled the surprise? Why would I want to do that?”

  Jergen sighed and shook his head.

  “Never mind. You'll never change. Come on, let's go into the lounge. I want to tap a new keg before Shandon gets back. When he's in the mood for ale, he doesn't like to wait.”

  Hallic followed the warrior through the room and down a short hallway. Two doors were closed on either wall. One was the king's bed chamber and the other one led into the lavatory. At the end of the hallway was a series of rooms.

  The first one was a large library with shelves on every wall packed with old books, scrolls and manuscripts. Jergen hit switches on the wall as he walked in and lamps lit up the corners, bathing the room with warm, yellow light, as if sunlight had found its way into the underground city. It was a remarkable illusion and many dwarves lit their entire homes with the same warm light. It calmed them for some reason, even though most of them would never see the actual sun.

  Jergen and Hallic crossed the library, passing a large desk where the king would sit for hours reading reports and studying old books on tactics. Shandon was a surprisingly adept scholar when he needed to be.

  Another short hallway led from the library into a lounge. With the flick of a switch, Jergen turned on the lights in the room and walked in. Hallic stood at the entrance and smiled in approval.

  “I think that this is my favorite room in the entire palace,” he said fondly as he looked around.

  “I'm not surprised,” Jergen said over his shoulder. “You do spend an inordinate amoun
t of time in pubs, don't you? Are you sure that you shouldn't have been an innkeeper instead of a rogue?”

  Hallic put a hand over his heart as he entered the room.

  “Oh Jergen,” he said dramatically. “You wound me.”

  “Don't tempt me,” Jergen growled.

  The lounge was also lit by the same warm light as the library. The king preferred it. The buffed wooden flooring had been created from timber brought down from the surface many years before. A half dozen round tables stood about the room, surrounded by many heavy, comfortable chairs. Paintings hung from the walls, most of them martial in nature. But among these depictions of battle and war were a few pictures of an entirely different nature.

  Flowers, forests, clouds and sunsets. These subjects, so foreign to dwarven lives, were a favorite of the king's. His time spent on the surface, fighting alongside the human race against the dragons, had impressed Shandon very much and he had employed artists to reproduce the world as he remembered it.

  To the left of the entrance was a long bar, its top littered with tall silver mugs and thick glasses. Jergen walked around behind it. He reached down and lifted a small keg of ale on to a rack on the bar. While he screwed a tap into the barrel, Hallic walked around the lounge, staring thoughtfully at the paintings.

  “You know, I think that I'd like to revisit the surface one day,” he mused as he looked at a depiction of a field of flowers. “It was really lovely in its own way.”

  “Why bother?” Jergen asked as he grabbed a mug and opened the tap in the keg. “Word has it that the damned dragons are back in force up there. Not to mention the blasted fay.”

  He shook his head as he emptied the mug of ale into a sink behind the bar. The first dram of ale always had sediment in it.

  “What the humans were thinking, bringing back those trouble-makers, is beyond me. The world has enough monsters without bringing in more. Idiots.”

  “Not fond of humans?” Hallic asked curiously. “I think that they are refreshingly different from our people. More optimistic. More...cheerful. Must be the result of living such short lives.”

  Jergen filled another mug and took a cautious sip. He smiled widely and wiped off his lips.

  “Ah, that's the stuff. Shandon won't be disappointed with this one. That new brewery you recommended is excellent.”

  “Thanks. I trust them not to cut corners. And not to poison their brew.”

  About to take another drink, Jergen hesitated and looked at the amber liquid dubiously.

  “Relax,” Hallic told him with a laugh. “It's safe. I'd stake my reputation on it.”

  “You don't have a reputation,” Jergen told him sourly. “Not a good one, at least.”

  He filled a second tankard for the king and gave Hallic a questioning look.

  “No thanks,” the rogue said with a smile as he collapsed into a chair. “I don't drink, as you well know. Why must you always try to corrupt me?”

  He put his elbow on the table next to his chair and rested his head on his hand as he watched Jergen.

  “Because it's not normal,” the warrior told him irritably. “A dwarf who doesn't enjoy ale? It's unnatural, just like you shaving your face. It's like you're walking around naked all the time. I don't like it.”

  “Don't like what?”

  Shandon walked into the lounge. He had changed into a plain white tunic and black leather trousers and he looked much more comfortable.

  “Jergen isn't fond of my beardless face, my lord,” Hallic said with a laugh.

  The king accepted the mug of ale from Jergen and smiled at him.

  “Bit of a stick in the mud, my friend?” he asked as he walked across the room and sat down next to Hallic.

  “Aye, perhaps,” the warrior replied as he joined them. “But damn it, Hallic! Can't you at least pretend to care about our ways?”

  The rogue shrugged indifferently.

  “Why should I? Dwarven society rejects me and my guild and they only use us when they don't want to get their own hands dirty. Do you think that makes us care about them? Quite the reverse, actually. We're outcasts, Jergen, and we always will be. I'm fond of my clients' gold, but that doesn't mean that I'm fond of them. You can't buy loyalty, you know and if you could, what would it be worth, really?”

  “And what of the king, hmm?” Jergen asked with a scowl. “Do you follow him for profit or because of loyalty?”

  Hallic narrowed his eyes as he stared at the warrior, but the smile never left his face. He remained silent as Shandon frowned at Jergen and set down his mug with a bang.

  “He's never taken my gold,” he told the warrior firmly. “Never. Hallic accepted payment at first, but that was for his guild, not for himself. They always demand gold from new clients, even if their members do not. But he's never taken a single coin for himself. You know that, Jergen. What has caused this foul mood of yours? If we fight amongst ourselves, and show distrust in each other, what hope is there of preventing a civil war? We must be united in this or we will fail before we even begin.”

  Jergen met the king's eyes and nodded slowly.

  “Forgive me, my lord, and you as well, Hallic. I'm just on edge, that's all. I'm not comfortable with all of this sneaking around and scheming. Give me an enemy to attack, send me into battle and I'll fight to my last breath. But this cloak and dagger business doesn't sit right with me.”

  Shandon smiled warmly at his old friend and reached across the table to clap him on the shoulder.

  “I know, Jergen. I know. I don't like it either. But I cannot just arrest my son for treason without proof. That act might set off the very conflict that I seek to avoid. We're failing as a race, my friend. I know it and so do you. At least let us fade away gracefully and not drown in buckets of our own blood as we kill each other off. Corbin is a spoiled child and I am at least partially responsible for that. If I'd known that a single night's dalliance with his mother would have resulted in this mess, I never would have given her a second look. But here we are and we have to deal with the consequences of my own stupidity.”

  Hallic cleared his throat and Shandon looked at him.

  “My lord, I hate to put this indelicately, but Corbin is a...”

  The king sighed and cut him off with a sharp gesture.

  “A bastard. Aye, I am well aware of that, Hallic. And I know that invalidates his claim to the throne. Unless I recognize him formally, the boy is not my heir. But there are many who do not care about that. He has some royal blood in his veins and that is good enough for them. The problem is that the lad is being used as a tool and doesn't even know it. He is young and weak and all too impressed with himself to understand that, if he does manage to take the throne, he will be used as a puppet by others.”

  Footsteps could be heard approaching from the library and the three dwarves turned to look toward the doorway.

  An older dwarf, his beard a mixture of black and silver, walked into the lounge and smiled at the gathering. He was wearing a rusty metal breastplate and a longsword swung from his belt. His pale green eyes shone with pleasure as he caught sight of the group.

  “Well now, this looks cozy,” he exclaimed as he bowed slightly to the king. “Where the ale?”

  Shandon laughed and waved at the bar.

  “There's a new keg open, Pieter,” he told the dwarf. “Help yourself.”

  “Ah, you've always been generous, my lord,” Pieter said as he walked over to the bar and grabbed a mug. “I tell everyone who'll listen, you know. Shandon, I say, has always been generous. You follow him and you won't regret it. Why, you are a king among kings. A dwarf after my own heart. A...”

  The rest of his sentence was cut off as he filled his mug and began to quaff the brew eagerly.

  Jergen rolled his eyes and Hallic chuckled. Pieter was known for his rather ornate way of speaking and for his ability to drink almost anyone under the table.

  “Try not to empty the keg right away, Pieter,” the rogue told him. “Jergen's just tapped it an
d I'm sure that he and the king would like to have more than a single tankard out of it.”

  Pieter waved away his comment as he refilled his mug.

  “There's always more ale, Hallic. And as you don't indulge, you foolish dwarf, there's even more for the rest of us.”

  “Pieter, we have some serious business to attend to,” Jergen growled at him. “Now sit down and listen. There will be ample time for drinking later.”

  The older dwarf looked at the king, who nodded gravely. Pieter's demeanor changed instantly and he walked over and sat down across from Hallic.

  “It's about the prince, I take it?” he asked.

  Shandon gestured at the rogue.

  “It is. Hallic was just about to tell us of the meeting he attended earlier. Go ahead, my friend. What is my son going to do with the information we gave him?”

  Chapter 3

  Hallic told the others about the earlier encounter he'd had with the king's son, leaving nothing out. He explained how the guild had set up the meeting in the old pub in one of the abandoned sections of the city, and how eagerly the prince had been to get his father's schedule.

  Shandon listened, stone-faced, as the rogue repeated the prince's treasonous remarks.

  Jergen wasn't as restrained and he began muttering curses before Hallic had finished his tale. His face became red with fury as his beard bristled alarmingly.

  Pieter sipped his ale as he watched Hallic tell his story. He remained calm and silent, his green eyes flicking from the rogue's face to Shandon's and back again.

  When Hallic was finished, he sat back in his chair and watched the king expressionlessly.

  “So the little turd is so sure that he will take the throne that he's already making plans to destroy the rogues guild?” Jergen said derisively. “What a fool he is. I'm sure your people would have something to say about that, eh Hallic?”

  Hallic smiled at him.

  “We would object to that, yes. And I do not believe that Corbin would be happy with our response. But let us not get ahead of ourselves.”

  He looked at Shandon, who was staring down at the table in front of him. The king seemed to be lost in thought.