The Dwarven Rebellion

by J. J. Thompson

  Larin lifted a finger and a globe of silver light appeared above his head, startling Hallic. He watched, fascinated, as the magical globe rose up toward the low ceiling and danced in the air. It bobbed and weaved and shivered for a moment and then it shuddered and disappeared with a little pop.

  “Now we are much more able to defend ourselves,” Larin added with a smile.

  Hallic looked at the mage with respect.

  “I see,” he said. “That's good to know. I am on Shandon's side when it comes to your kind. We rogues know what it feels like to be shunned by society and yet to be used by some of them as well. It's an odd way to live your life, isn't it?”

  “Now that is interesting,” Larin mused. “I hadn't thought of how similar our situations were until just now. But you're right. Rogues and mages have much more in common than I had expected. Hmm, that is something that I must speak to my people about. There was some discussion about allowing you to enter our enclave, you know, but I decided that we should welcome you, especially since your visit relates to the empire and the king's security.”

  “So much for a secret meeting,” Hallic said wryly.

  Larin laughed merrily.

  “There are no secrets among mages,” he told the rogue. “When you can snoop around covertly using spells, trying to be sneaky is almost impossible. There are certain rules of etiquette, of course, but we have found that being open with each other is much easier for all of us.”

  “That wouldn't work within the rogues guild,” Hallic told him. “If our clients thought that their schemes and plots were known to many people, our contacts would dry up immediately and that would spell the end of the guild entirely.”

  “Good point.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Larin called out.

  The door opened and a young dwarven woman walked in carrying a tray.

  “Excuse me, Elder,” she said as she entered. “But I thought that you and your guest might like some refreshment during your meeting.”

  “Ah, Essa, how thoughtful. Thank you very much. Just set the tray down anywhere.”

  The woman nodded and looked around for a bare spot on one of the tables. Larin stood up with a chuckle and crossed the room.

  “Allow me to clear a space for you,” he said. “I really must tidy up this place one of these days.”

  “You always say that, Elder,” the young dwarf said affectionately.

  Hallic watched with interest. The woman was wearing a simple pale blue robe. Her brown hair was tied back and her wide green eyes politely avoided the rogue's gaze. She had a pleasant face, and was obviously very young. Hallic wondered if she was a magic-user too. He had to assume that she was.

  Larin pushed aside some papers on one of the tables and Essa set the tray down carefully. There was a tall metal urn and several cups resting on it.

  “Thank you again, my dear,” the mage said. “We will serve ourselves.”

  “Yes, Elder.”

  Without looking at Hallic, the woman walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

  “Tea?”

  The rogue nodded at Larin.

  “That would be lovely,” he replied.

  The mage poured out two cups of steaming liquid and walked back to his seat, handing one to Hallic before sitting down again.

  A spicy aroma rose from the tea and Hallic sipped it carefully.

  “Ah, this is delicious,” he told the mage. “Your own blend?”

  “Yes. We grow many varieties of fungus for our own use, both in food and beverages. This one is a blend of several fungi. It's one of my favorites.”

  The two dwarves spent a few moments in silence, enjoying their tea. Hallic was trying to think of the best way to ask about a method of countering mages without offending Larin, but there didn't seem to be a diplomatic way to broach such a topic.

  “You seem to be conflicted,” Larin said quietly, peering over the rim of his cup as he sipped his tea.

  Hallic set down his tea cup on a small table next to his chair and smiled ruefully.

  “Is it that obvious?” he asked.

  “Perhaps not to others, but then I know why you are here. You seek knowledge of magic and of my kind. One has to assume that you also seek to discover more about our talents than the average person does.”

  “You are very perceptive, Larin,” the rogue told him. “You haven't really mentioned it yet, but are you the leader of your people?”

  The mage put down his cup and tented his fingers together. He resting his chin on them and watched Hallic closely.

  “We do not really have an official leader,” he said. “Magic has only been available to us for ten rotations of the planet around the sun, as you know, and that changed our society immensely. Before that, we all knew that our ancestors had been practitioners of the magical arts, but that knowledge was kept very secret.”

  The mage frowned and glanced away from Hallic.

  “You know how dwarven society denigrates my kind. It wasn't always so, of course, but over the dusty centuries we came to be connected with the elven race for some reason. I've never understood that. After all, elves do not use magical spells. They can simply use the power the way that we dig and shape stone. It is in their nature. But dwarven magic-users? We came to be seen as unnatural, and so those of us who knew of our ancestry kept it hidden for fear of repercussions.”

  Hallic nodded in understanding.

  “I know how you must feel,” he said. “I can trace my lineage back through a dozen generations, and it has always been associated with the rogues guild. Your kind may be feared because of false beliefs and ignorance, but mine is hated for some very good reasons.”

  “Is it? How strange,” Larin replied. “It is common knowledge, to those of us who keep open minds, that your people serve the empire, and are not simply a group of mercenaries and assassins. To condemn you for deeds that you have not done is unjust.”

  The rogue stared at him in amazement.

  “You surprise me,” he told Larin. “I have never heard anyone speak so fairly of the guild.”

  “I tend to take the long view, I suppose,” the mage said with a shrug. “Dwarves are not intrinsically mean-spirited or bad people. The population is simply misguided, both about my people and yours. They can learn, if they are properly guided. That is what Shandon Ironhand is trying to do right now, and that is why we support him.”

  “As do we, although we have a tradition of serving the crown if the ruler is just, as Ironhand is.”

  “Exactly. We feel the same way.”

  Larin finished his tea and stood up.

  “Would you care for more?” he asked politely.

  “Please.”

  The mage took Hallic's cup and walked over to the teapot. He chuckled as he refilled the cups.

  “Something funny?” Hallic asked him.

  “Us,” Larin said as he walked back with the steaming cups. “We seem to have more in common than I would have believed possible.”

  He handed a cup to the rogue and sat down again.

  Hallic smiled at him and breathed in the spicy scent of the hot liquid.

  “Yes, we do, don't we?” he agreed. “Hopefully that will make what I am about to ask less...provocative.”

  “Ah, now we come to it,” Larin said with a nod. “Perhaps I can ask the question for you, hmm?”

  “You can read minds as well?”

  “Hardly. But it doesn't take a mind-reader to deduce your motives for this visit. As I said, you seek to understand magic. You must also want to know how to counter it, isn't that correct?”

  Hallic took a sip of tea, stalling for time as he weighed his reply. He decided that honesty would be the only way to get the answers he sought.

  “Yes, I do,” he replied carefully. “Not because I want to use such knowledge against you and yours,” he added hastily. “But because the empire faces a grave threat to its stability, and magic may be involved. We have no
experience with spells and dark powers, and trying to face such threats without knowing how to defend against them would be both foolish and reckless.”

  Larin's expression became grave. He set down his cup and extended his hand, palm facing the ceiling.

  “You are speaking of the son of the king, are you not?” he asked.

  As Hallic watched, fascinated, a thin mist seemed to rise from the mage's palm. It swirled and darkened and suddenly an image of the prince floated above Larin's hand. Corbin looked as puffed up and arrogant as he always did.

  “I am indeed. I did not know that you were aware of his existence,” the rogue said as he stared at the image.

  “We were not, until one of my people became involved with him for reasons of her own.”

  Hallic frowned at him.

  “Her? One of your mages is helping him?”

  Larin shook his head.

  “Not a mage, no. Not all magic-users are mages. Some of my kind have different powers and skills than the rest of us. We have no wizards among us, which is fortunate. A wizard is so powerful that if such a person turned to evil, it would be very difficult to counter them. But a few of our casters use their powers in unique ways. Cindra Ashlorn is such a one.”

  “Cindra Ashlorn,” Hallic repeated softly. “That is the name of the magic-user who is helping the traitor?”

  “It is.”

  Larin closed his hand and opened it again. More mist rose from it and swirled and warped until a second image appeared.

  The rogue stared at it and then looked at Larin.

  “That's her?”

  “Yes, this is Cindra. She is not a mage. Not anymore. She calls herself a witch now and, considering what the power has done to her, I do as well.”

  Hallic looked back at the image. Above Larin's palm stood a twisted, misshapen creature that could barely be called a dwarf.

  Cindra was bent over and leaning on a crooked staff. She had long white hair that flowed down over her face, almost touching the ground. She wore dusty black robes that covered her body, but Hallic saw lumps and bumps beneath it that thrust out at odd angles. The one hand that held on to the staff was twisted and gnarled, with long fingernails that looked like claws. He couldn't see her face, but the rogue decided that he probably didn't want to.

  “How did that,” Hallic nodded at the image, “happen?”

  Larin sighed and lowered his hand. The projection dissipated like smoke and Hallic imagined that he could almost smell a hint of sulfur in the air.

  “When magic returned to the world, those of us who could use it effectively still had to learn how to cast the spells that our ancestors did so long ago. One doesn't simply wave a hand and command such dangerous powers. We retrieved old scrolls and tomes of knowledge long hidden away and cautiously began to muddle through them.”

  He shivered as he glanced at Hallic.

  “There are many old tales of what happened to foolish mages who tried to use spells that they did not understand or that were too complex for their level of talent.”

  “Is that what happened to the witch?” Hallic asked him.

  “Precisely. Cindra had always been a bit of a rebel; breaking rules and disobeying orders,” the mage said with a touch of sadness in his voice. “But no one ever dreamed that she would overestimate her own strength and attempt to use forbidden lore to increase her powers. But she did. The image that you saw was the result of that experiment.”

  “But she lives,” the rogue pointed out. “She wasn't destroyed by her use of this power, whatever it is.”

  “That is true. Cindra was horribly wounded and disfigured, but her strength of will allowed her to survive. However, after that incident she changed, and not just physically. The young woman that I knew was gone. Where once she had been rebellious and headstrong, now she became cruel and arrogant. You see, the experiment was not a complete failure. Somehow she fused new magical abilities into her very flesh, something that none of us had ever dreamed was possible. Cindra no longer needs to cast complicated spells or enchantments. She simply uses her will and a few arcane words to summon the magic and bend it to serve her needs.”

  Larin crossed his legs and smoothed out his robe, frowning down at the floor as if lost in his memories.

  “We banished her eventually,” he muttered.

  “You what?”

  The mage glowered at Hallic.

  “We turned her out,” he said harshly. “Not without reason. She was dangerous and out of control. Her new powers did more than just twist and change her body. They warped her mind. She lashed out at others, trying to spread sedition amongst my people. She thought that magic-users should be ruling the empire, since we had our powers back. 'Why should we be ruled by a mundane and limited fool like Shandon Ironhand?' she said. 'We are the wisest and the most powerful now. We should wrest control from that idiot and rule as we see fit.'”

  Larin shook his head.

  “Foolish child. As if such a thing could ever succeed. Dwarves are creatures of tradition and order. The royal line extends back for centuries and very few would turn on the king, especially if the choice was between him and a magic-user.”

  “And if the choice was between the king and his son?” Hallic asked quietly. “Especially if that son was backed by a powerful witch who could protect him and destroy his enemies? What then?”

  “I do not know,” the mage whispered. “I truly don't. There will always be restless elements among the populace, of course. Perhaps they could be stirred up by the prince, made to fight for his cause. But surely they are few in number?”

  Hallic stood up abruptly, unable to sit still, and walked across the room. He reached the door, turned back and leaned against the wall next to it, crossing his arms.

  “So this Cindra is working for the prince now?” he asked Larin.

  “I believe so, yes. Or perhaps he is working for her and does not even realize it. That seems more likely, given Cindra's ambitions. Either way, that is why I agreed to this meeting. Someone needed to know what was really happening. Someone with the ear of the king. He needs to be warned, my rogue friend, and quickly. This plot may not succeed, but the royal guard is totally unprepared to defend Shandon against hostile magics, especially magics as powerful as those that Cindra wields now.”

  “And what good would that do, hmm?” Hallic asked angrily. “Even if I warn the king, this mad witch can snuff out his life at a distance, can she not?”

  Larin began to speak and then settled back into his chair. He answered Hallic reluctantly.

  “Perhaps,” he said. “Or perhaps not. I do not believe that even Cindra is that powerful. No, it is more likely that she would transport herself to the palace and kill Shandon before he could even react.”

  “Then warning him is not enough,” the rogue said. “You Larin, and your people, sent Cindra away. You set her loose upon the rest of us. Which means that you have a duty to make amends somehow, especially if this leads to civil war.”

  “Yes, I acknowledge that,” the mage told him. “But what would you have me do? Cindra is beyond my reach. She uses her powers to shield herself and the prince from my sight. I have tried to track her down magically, as have many other mages, but she cannot be located. What more can we do?”

  Hallic returned to his seat and sat down. He leaned forward and looked intently at Larin.

  “You can defend the king yourself. Warriors won't be enough, you say, to save him from the witch. So he will need magical protection. Protection that only other magic-users can provide. Would you and your people be willing to do that? Guard the king until I can track down the traitors and stop them?”

  “Come out of the shadows and fully reveal ourselves to others?” Larin asked him with a faint smile. “That is a bold request. We are still distrusted by the population, and hated by many. Would you be willing to do that, if you were in my position?”

  “I serve the crown,” Hallic told him. “As does my entire guild. If it meant saving the e
mpire from civil war, then yes. I would take the risk and step out into the light. Indeed, I already have. Before I served Shandon Ironhand openly, no one knew my name, and I was happy to keep it that way. Now they speak of Hallic Barston in the streets and back alleys of Kingstone. I hate it, but I accept it because I must. And I believe that you must do the same. The choice, of course, is yours.”

  Silence descended on the room as Larin stared into the fireplace. Hallic sat back and watched him.

  I wonder what he's thinking about, the rogue said to himself. Does he fear exposure, as I once did? I can't blame him for that. Having a mage openly serving the king would not sit well with many dwarves. But surely it is better than allowing a traitor like Corbin to take the throne, especially if he is controlled by a twisted, evil creature like Cindra? The empire would implode if that happened. It would mean civil war, of that I have no doubt.

  “When can you gain an audience with the king?” Larin asked suddenly.

  Hallic stared at him in surprise.

  “Almost immediately,” he replied. “His seneschal has arranged for me to be allowed into the castle at any time to speak with Shandon, provided the king is not busy with his duties. Even if he is, I'm sure that he would take a moment to speak with me if it concerned his son.”

  “Very well. Go to the king and tell him that Larin Dunnor offers the services of his people to the crown. He knows who I am. Tell him that we will protect him to the best of our abilities, if he wishes such protection. If he accepts, return to me and I will make the arrangements. Will that do?”

  Hallic smiled widely.

  “It will do very well,” he exclaimed warmly. “Thank you, Larin.”

  The mage shook his head.

  “Do not thank me just yet. Even with our protection, the king will still be in peril until Corbin, and especially Cindra, are located and neutralized.”

  “I know. Leave that to me.”

  Hallic rose to his feet and extended a hand to the mage.

  Larin stood up as well and clasped the rogue's hand firmly.

  “You just keep our king alive until I track down the traitors,” Hallic told him. “Magics or not, now that I know who the enemy truly is, I will find a way to stop them. You have my word on it.”