The Dwarven Rebellion

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The Dwarven Rebellion Page 25

by J. J. Thompson


  The crowd gasped at the splendid sight and Shandon spoke loudly from where he stood in front of the open gates.

  “Welcome, my friends, to your new home,” he said, his voice echoing along the street. “As your king, it is my honor to offer you shelter for as long as you may need it. I am delighted to have you as my guests.”

  The tired group let out a muted cheer and Shandon smiled, clearly delighted by their reaction.

  As the first four families were led past him, all of the parents thanked him for his hospitality. The king accepted their thanks and waved them on.

  “Come in, come in,” he said jovially. “You are all welcome.”

  Once the first bunch had enter the palace grounds, the others were quickly organized and followed them in a steady profession. In a remarkably short time, all of the refugees had been led away and only a handful of people were left in front of the gates.

  Shandon told Falder to go along to make sure that everyone's needs were met and he sent Jergen to speak to the captain of the guards.

  “Make sure that there are extra patrols in the area where our guests are staying,” he told his old friend. “And tell Pieter what's happened if you can find him. Tell him that the mages are under my protection and, by the gods, I mean to keep them safe. Understood?”

  “Understood,” Jergen growled. “Not a hair on any child's head will be touched while they remain within these grounds, I promise you that.”

  He stomped off and Shandon smiled as he watched him leave.

  “He seems to have taken a shine to them,” Hallic said as he and Mel and Larin joined the king.

  “Yes, I noticed. For all of his gruff appearance, Jergen has a soft spot for the little ones.”

  Shandon turned to look a Larin.

  “Do you think that your people will be comfortable here?” he asked the mage. “Living in a palace is a bit different than what they are accustomed to, I should think. It certainly was for me when I first arrived.”

  Larin chuckled.

  “Oh, I think that they will adapt, my lord. Once they are settled in and the children are rested and any wounds they have are tended to, they will be fine. It is only a temporary situation, after all.”

  “Speaking of which,” Mel broke in. “Someone needs to think about contacting the tradesmen about rebuilding the mages' quarter. It will take a day or two before the burned houses are safe to enter, but after that there will be a lot of damage to repair.”

  “I'll see to that,” Shandon assured her. “In the morning, I'll have someone get in touch with the stonemasons and the construction guild and get them moving. Larin, I assume that you'll want to oversee the clean-up?”

  “I would, my lord,” the mage replied. “And before anyone starts poking around the damaged buildings, I will have to take some of my senior mages in and look for any tomes or books of lore that haven't been burned. I hope that most of them survived, or we may have lost some irreplaceable knowledge. In the end, that may be the hardest blow of all to my people.”

  Shandon looked surprised at his comment.

  “That hadn't occurred to me,” he said. “Shows you that I'm not much for studying, I suppose. I'll assign a few guards to keep an eye out for vandals in the mages' quarter for the next few days, until you and your people can retrieve those tomes. We wouldn't want such things falling into the wrong hands.”

  “No, we most certainly would not,” Larin agreed fervently. “Thank you again, my lord.”

  “Not at all,” Shandon told him. “Now, shall we go in and see what kind of mayhem I've unleashed upon the palace today?”

  They all laughed, but Hallic shook his head.

  “Mel and I will be heading back to guild headquarters,” he informed the king. “We have much to discuss and plans to make. But if you need me, my lord, you know how to contact me now.”

  He pulled out a small oval crystal from an inside pocket and Shandon glanced at it and nodded.

  “Ah yes, the lodestones. I'd almost forgotten about those. Fine, off you go, you two. Larin will signal you if we need to speak. Thank you both for your help today. Once again, you've shown me and many others that members of the rogues guild can be trusted.”

  “Add my thanks to his majesty's,” Larin told Hallic and Mel. “My people are in your debt.”

  “No, my friend,” Mel told him. “We are in yours. Without your assistance in Cindercore, who knows what those daemons and Cindra might have done.”

  “We'll call it even then,” Larin said with a smile. “And speak no more about it. I hope to see you both again soon.”

  And with that, the four of them split up. Mel and Hallic headed back into the city, and Larin and the king walked into the palace grounds as the gates closed firmly behind them.

  “It's been quite the day,” Shandon observed as they walked toward the palace.

  “That is has, my lord,” Larin agreed. “That is has.”

  Several hours passed before all of the mages and their families were settled comfortably into their new quarters. Inevitably there was some confusion as people were directed from place to place, but the palace staff were very professional about it all and all of the servants seemed genuinely happy to help. If any of them had any trepidation about dealing with mages, the sight of small children, some of them nursing injuries, seemed to quell those fears.

  A steady stream of kitchen staffers rolled trolleys of food through the palace, delivering it to the many suites that had been assigned to the refugees. The west wing of the palace had sat mostly unoccupied for decades as the number of visitors to the capital had waned. Now it was already being referred to as the mages' wing by staff.

  Dozens of rooms had been opened up, aired out and made available to the displaced dwarves and, even as families were being shown to their quarters, servants were frantically finishing up with their dusting and cleaning. The entire palace bustled with energy, the likes of which had not been seen there in many a year.

  When things had finally settled down and most of the smallest children had been put to bed, Larin visited each suite to check on his people. He patiently listened to their fears, calming and reassuring them as best he could. He answered their questions and made sure that everyone's immediate needs had been met. He seemed tireless to those who spoke with him, drawing on a well of energy that no one had known he had. And his very presence calmed the mages and allowed them to go to their rest feeling at least somewhat safe.

  When he was done, Larin spoke to the two senior mages that he had assigned to walk the halls around the west wing.

  “Make sure to summon me if there is any trouble,” he told them both. “Guards will be patrolling the area as well. Please be polite to them. They are watching over our people just as you are, in their own way.”

  The pair, two women whom Larin had known for years, listened attentively. When he was finished speaking, one of them gave him an affectionate push.

  “We know our business, Larin,” she said gently. “Go and get some rest. You've earned it. We will guard the others. Cindra will do no harm to them while we watch over them, I assure you.”

  “Thank you, Bellis. And you too, Kaylin,” he said with a smile. “I know that they are in safe hands. You will be relieved in four hours. Good night.”

  Once he was back in his quarters, Larin collapsed into a thickly-padded chair and finally allowed his exhaustion to wash over him. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, using techniques that he had learned when he was very young to control his breathing and organize his thoughts.

  How long he sat there before he fell into a light sleep Larin never knew, but he woke up with a jerk as a quiet whisper broke the silence.

  “Larin,” it said.

  The mage rubbed his eyes and looked around. A small fireplace glowed in the semi-darkness across the room from him still radiating heat. One lamp was lit on the table next to him and Larin could see into every corner. He was alone.

  “Larin,” the whisper repeated.
<
br />   “Ah, there you are,” the mage said as he settled back into his chair. “I was wondering when you would work up the courage to contact me.”

  “Courage? Foolish old mage. I have never needed courage when it comes to facing you. It is you who fears me. You and the others like you. Your powers pale compared to mine.”

  Larin shook his head and sighed.

  “Why, Cindra?” he asked softly. “Why attack those who have never harmed you? Why attack children?”

  “Never harmed me?” the voice hissed. “They shunned me and turned me out. You did as well. As for the children, well, let us call them collateral damage, shall we? If I had meant to kill them, or any of you, I would have simply done it.”

  Larin frowned at her reply, but kept his tone calm and even.

  “Then why?” he asked again.

  “To show you that I could, of course. It was a warning, old dwarf. I know that you are aiding the fool who occupies the throne. His days are numbered. His time has passed. A new ruler waits to supplant him and you would be wise to withdraw your support for him now, lest I truly unleash my wrath upon you all. If I do, no one will escape it, including your precious children.”

  “How predictable. Threats.”

  Larin stood up and walked over to the fireplace. He stared down into the glowing pieces of coal, seeing Cindra's twisted, hateful face in his mind's eye.

  “You are mistaken if you think that I fear you, Cindra. I do not. Houses can be rebuilt, and wounds can be healed. All that you have done today is strengthen the resolve of those who might had stood on the sidelines in this conflict that you and the prince started. Do you think that the parents of the children that you so casually dismiss as 'collateral damage' are now afraid of you? Quite the opposite. The flames that you lit today now burn within them. It is called anger, Cindra, It is called rage. It is an emotion that you know very well, of course, but now you have stoked it in others.”

  He turned away from the fireplace and looked up at the arched ceiling.

  “We will not withdraw our support of Shandon Ironhand. On the contrary, we are now united against you. This is what you accomplished today with your foolish attack. Your bile, your perceived slights, your baseless hatreds. These will be your undoing, child. Before today, I still felt some sympathy for you and for what happened to you a decade ago. Now those feelings are gone. All that is left is my determination to stop you. So run far and burrow deep, Cindra. I am coming for you.”

  A momentary silence was broken by cruel laughter.

  “A lovely speech, old fool. But if you meant to frighten or intimidate me, you have failed. Now you will all die in agony. I will unleash my wrath upon you in ways that you cannot even imagine. I will..”

  “Enough!” Larin said sternly. “Away with you!”

  He waved his hand and uttered a single word and Cindra's tirade was cut off in mid sentence. A long fading wail of rage was the last thing that Larin heard.

  He shook his head and walked back to his chair. As he sat down, someone knocked heavily on his door.

  “Come in,” he called out. “It's open.”

  The door swung wide and Kaylin walked in. She stopped abruptly and stared at him.

  “Oh. I'm so sorry to bother you, Elder. I thought that I detected something. A dark pulse of magical energy coming from this room.”

  Larin smiled at her.

  “Well done. Your magical senses are working perfectly. I have just spoken with Cindra.”

  “Cindra?” Kaylin replied, wide-eyed. “By the gods, she had the nerve? After what she did today?”

  Larin stroked his beard as he glanced over at the sullen glow of the fireplace.

  “She has never lacked for nerve, as you well know.”

  “What did she want?”

  “What you might expect. She threatened us, saying that today's attack was merely a warning. She said that, if we did not withdraw our support of the king, her next assault would be much worse.”

  Kaylin scowled at him. Her dark hair was streaked with white and was tightly tied back. She walked with a long, thin staff but did not lean on it. In the semi-darkness of the room, her pale green robe seemed to glow with its own light.

  “That fool,” she exclaimed angrily. “If she intended to frighten us, she has made a huge miscalculation.”

  “And I told her as much,” Larin replied agreeably.

  He pushed himself to his feet.

  “I made the mistake of not immediately shielding this wing of the palace from Cindra's magical sight. I was hoping to get some rest before using that much energy,” he added with a rueful smile, “but I'd better not put it off any longer. She may be enraged enough now to try to attack us here.”

  He walked over to Kaylin and she looked at him dubiously.

  “Are you sure, Elder? I can seal off the area if you are too tired.”

  Larin smiled at her reassuringly.

  “I am sure. I'd rather you use your energies to continue scanning for any hostile magics directed against us. I can sleep after I've shielded the area.”

  He waved Kaylin out of the room and then followed her, closing the door behind them.

  It took several days for the mages and their families to get settled into their new quarters. Shandon heard from Jergen and others that the palace staff was secretly delighted by the presence of children living in the huge ancient fortress for the first time in years. He was pleased that the old tales of evil magics had not tainted the opinions of ordinary dwarves when dealing with the mages and he hoped that it marked a turning point for his people.

  He was less pleased by a group of nobles who showed up in the throne room two days after the visitors had moved in to lodge a protest.

  The king was sitting on his throne going through some financial documents with one of his senior scribes when Falder entered and crossed the large room to stand at the bottom of the dais.

  Shandon glanced up and noticed the seneschal, who bowed when their eyes met.

  “Ah, Falder,” he said with a smile. “Good morning. I'm sorry, I didn't see you come in.”

  He waved the large sheet of parchment in his hand.

  “Bloody numbers,” he added distastefully. “I've never had a head for them.”

  He handed the document to the scribe and the old dwarf bowed and stepped away from the throne.

  “I'll deal with these this afternoon, Perse,” he told the scribe.

  “As you wish, my lord,” Perse replied primly. “But may I remind his majesty that the budget must be approved soon. The third quarter is ending and the money for the new sewer upgrades needs to be allocated. And then there is the...”

  “Yes, fine,” Shandon said sharply. “I'll get to it later. Now shoo.”

  The scribe sighed, bowed again and then turned and hobbled down the steps, headed toward the exit.

  “So, what can I do for you?” Shandon asked the seneschal. He motioned for him to approach the throne.

  “Forgive my interruption, my lord,” Falder said politely as he hurried up the steps of the dais. “But there is a delegation of nobles waiting outside. They wish to speak with you about...”

  He hesitated for a moment and the king frowned at him.

  “Don't be coy, Falder. What do they want?”

  “They would like to discuss our new guests, my lord,” the seneschal told him. “I do not want to put words into their mouths, but apparently they are not happy that the crown is playing host to so many mages.”

  Shandon glowered at him. His face reddened, never a good sign, and he looked over at Jergen, who was standing several feet to the left of the throne as usual.

  Jergen looked equally irritated, but he stepped toward the king and spoke to him quietly.

  “It's not like we didn't expect some sort of resistance,” he muttered. “We live in a rather insulted bubble, after all. To the average citizen, your acceptance of the families might not sit well.”

  The king snorted angrily.

  “F
ine. Bring them in, Falder, and I'll listen to what they have to say.”

  The seneschal bowed again and walked back down the steps and toward the main doors.

  Shandon looked around the throne room while he waited. The tiers of seats around the perimeter weren't completely empty and he glanced at Jergen in surprise.

  “We actually have onlookers for a change?” he asked, gesturing at the dozens of citizens watching in small groups scattered here and there. “I hadn't even noticed them. Why the sudden interest in the doings at court?”

  Jergen shrugged.

  “The mages, of course,” he replied as he looked around as well. “Word has gotten out that you have given them shelter and I suppose that it has piqued people's curiosity. Personally, I think it's a nice change. Place doesn't feel quite so empty with a few of the seats filled.”

  Shandon put his elbows on the arms of the throne and rested his chin on his hands. He narrowed his eyes as he scanned the faces watching him.

  “I assume that they've all been searched before being allowed into the throne room?” he asked quietly.

  “Always,” Jergen replied firmly. “And Hadd is on duty this morning, so you are protected from hostile magics as well.”

  The king turned around and glanced behind the throne. The mage, Hadd, stood at the back of the room, below the dais, and when Shandon caught his eyes, he nodded reassuringly. Hadd's beard was silver and was twisted into three braids and his gray eyes were filled with wisdom. Privately, Shandon thought that the mage was the calmest person he had ever met.

  “Good to know,” the king said as he turned back around to watch the main doors. “After Larin told us about his visit from Cindra, I am concerned about her next move.”

  “Getting a little skittish, are we?” Jergen asked with a teasing grin.

  Shandon chuckled self-consciously.

  “Aye, perhaps. You know me. Give me a real enemy that I can attack head-on and I'll fight all day long. But assassins or magical attacks? I'm out of my depth when it comes to those sorts of assault.”

 

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