The Dwarven Rebellion

by J. J. Thompson

She smiled as she opened another drawer and pulled out a pair of daggers, their edges glinting wickedly in the light of her office.

  “Then worry more for those who have set the trap than for me, sir. I'll talk to you soon.”

  Hallic watched her leave the room and then he handed the mirror back to Larin, who canceled the spell.

  “So now we just wait, I suppose,” he told the mage and Mel.

  She arranged the papers in front of her into a neat pile and stood up.

  “Well, while we wait I might as well ask the runner outside to bring us some tea. Would you care for some, Larin?”

  “That would be lovely, Mel,” he replied with a smile. “Maybe it would settle my nerves a bit.”

  “Mine too,” Hallic told his daughter.

  “You don't have any nerves to settle, Father,” she scoffed as she walked to front door. “You are the calmest person that I've ever known, no matter what the circumstances are. I'll be back in a minute.”

  She left the office and Hallic and Larin exchanged a look.

  “I have a bad feeling about this whole situation,” the mage said as he slipped the small mirror back into his pocket. “Things are happening that we are not aware of. Cindra has had almost a decade to strengthen and refine her powers and to make her plans. Who knows what forces she has arrayed against us, or how many allies she has co-opted in that time? This baroness may only be one of many arrayed against the crown.”

  Hallic nodded. He stood up and moved around the desk to sit in the chair behind it. Opening a drawer, he reached inside and pulled out a large, rolled-up map and spread it out across the desk. On it were marked all of the cities, towns and settlements of the dwarven empire.

  Larin got to his feet and moved around the desk to stand next to the rogue.

  “Ah, I do not believe that I've ever seen a map quite like this one,” he said as he trace a long, snaking path leading away from a circle labeled 'Kingstone'. “It has all of the deep roads marked on it?”

  “All of them,” Hallic replied. “And we are constantly updating it as some of the roads become impassable. You know, the king will need to focus more on repairing our infrastructure when this current crisis is concluded. Our cities are crumbling and our power grid is unstable. It's a mess.”

  “Doesn't Shandon know that?”

  “Of course he does,” the rogue said as he scanned the map. “But when your illegitimate son is trying to take your throne, it tends to divert your attention away from other things.”

  Larin stroked his beard and sighed gently.

  “We do tend to forget the more mundane things in times of peril, don't we?” he agreed. “But I had no idea that the deep roads themselves were crumbling. Are we cut off from any other cities?”

  Hallic shook his head as he quickly tapped a forefinger on each major city and town.

  “Not yet, but there are at least two cities, as well as a handful of towns, that I have not heard from in several months. Crystal Main and Orelong are the cities furthest away from Kingstone, along with Cindercore of course. Darlheim told me that he'd sent several messages to both of our guild-houses there, but had received no reply from either. He assumed, because the messages had been sent via caravans, that they had been misplaced or forgotten about. Perhaps that was foolish in hindsight, but he wasn't aware of the prince's betrayal at the time.”

  “And now you think that there is something more sinister involved?” Larin asked as he looked at the map and found both cities.

  “There may be.”

  He smiled at the mage.

  “But I have an ally now who can use spells to check on those cities. So perhaps I could presume on our new friendship and ask you to contact the guilds in Crystal Main and Orelong to find out what is happening there?”

  Larin chuckled at Hallic's wheedling tone.

  “I would be happy to help. Apparently we have some time before Annia learns what is happening in Cindercore, so I can get in touch with your guild leaders while we wait.”

  He frowned down at the map.

  “But I do not know anything about those two people. I will need their names and at least a general description of each one if I am to find them via the Magic Mirror spell. The magic can lock on to a person that I do not know, but only if I can direct it properly.”

  Larin walked around the desk and took his seat again while Hallic sat down and searched through several drawers.

  “I don't recall who leads either guild-house,” he said as he pulled out several large notebooks and flipped through them. “But I do know every senior rogue in the guild, having met them all over the years as I traveled to all of our cities on business. I should recognize them by name, if I can find the list of leaders that Darlheim kept. Now where is it?”

  Hallic continued to search through the books as Mel walked back into the office and took the seat next to Larin.

  “What's he looking for so frantically?” she asked the mage quietly.

  “The names of the leaders of each guild-house across the empire,” Larin replied. “He's worried about two of them in particular, the heads of the houses in Orelong and Crystal Main.”

  “Ah yes, the ones that we've lost touch with.”

  Mel lifted the map covering the desk, reached underneath it and tapped a thin notebook with a blue cover.

  “This one,” she told Hallic with a grin.

  The rogue sighed and slipped the other books back into the desk drawers.

  “Naturally. Right under my nose,” he said with disgust. “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome,” Mel replied. “I've tried to catch up on all of the guild's business since Darlheim passed. One of the benefits is that I know where he kept most of his most current records.”

  She nodded at the dog-eared notebook in Hallic's hand.

  “He did have an odd way of keeping track of things he thought were important, though. Good luck reading through that.”

  “Why?” Hallic said as he opened the book. “I'll just look for the most recent...”

  His voice trailed off and he sighed again.

  “Oh. I see.”

  “What is it?” Larin asked.

  Hallic flipped the book around and the mage chuckled. Each page was filled with microscopic writing, making it very hard to read. But to add to the difficulty, every line was written in code. To Larin's untrained eye, the book was filled with gibberish.

  “You can read this, I assume?” he asked Hallic.

  “Barely,” the rogue muttered as he sat back in his chair and began flipping through the notebook. “His handwriting is atrocious.”

  “He must have thought that he'd live for many more years,” Mel commented with a gentle smile. “Perhaps he planned to reorganize his records for clarity some day.”

  “Well, he certainly didn't think that he'd live forever,” her father replied without looking up from the book. “The last time we talked, he asked me if I wanted to take over as guildmaster.”

  He glanced at Mel.

  “I told him that I wished he would keep the job forever. And then he was dead. Is that irony? I'm not sure.”

  Neither Mel or Larin had anything to say to that, so they just watched silently as Hallic went through the notebook.

  “Is it Marrik or Flotlam?” he muttered as he flipped back and forth between two pages. “I've never even heard of these people. Damn it, Darlheim, couldn't you at least have been more precise in your coding?”

  There was a knock on the door and Mel got up and crossed the room to open it.

  “Oh, excellent,” she said as she stepped back to allow the young runner to enter.

  The young woman was holding a tray of cups and an urn and she carefully carried it over to a small side table and set it down.

  Hallic looked up from the notebook and smiled at her.

  “Thank you,” he told her with a smile. “You were quick.”

  The runner bobbed her head, her face reddening at the compliment.

  “You a
re welcome, Guildmaster,” she said breathlessly. And then she hurried from the room and closed the door as she left.

  “Ah, to be that young and innocent again,” Larin sighed.

  “Both youth and innocence are overrated if you ask me,” Hallic replied as he went back to reading.

  “Well now, someone's being a little sour, aren't they?” Mel told him as she began pouring out cups of tea.

  “Sorry. It's these damned notes,” her father said irritably. “Not only was Darlheim's handwriting almost illegible, but he used a mixture of several codes to make his notes more secure. He may have thought it was clever, but it isn't. It's exasperating.”

  “Heavy is the head of he who wears the crown,” Larin quoted with a grin.

  Hallic grimaced as he squinted at the notebook.

  “I'm the leader of the guild, not a king,” he stated.

  “It applies nonetheless,” the mage told him. “You are responsible for hundreds of people now, not just yourself. That sort of burden tends to weigh on people. It is certainly weighing on me at the moment.”

  Hallic sat back and set down the book. He looked at Larin and nodded his understanding.

  “I'm sorry. I should not be whining when what we are doing is trying to safeguard your people. I know how I felt when it was the guild that was being threatened. You're in the same position now, aren't you?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am. But we are allies now and together we can, hopefully, defend both your people and mine,” Larin told the rogue. “And if we are successful, perhaps Cindra and Corbin will be stopped before they can threaten the entire dwarven empire.”

  “Good point. Let me see if I can make sense of this gibberish,” Hallic told him as he resolutely picked up the notebook again. “Headache be damned.”

  Mel carried over a cup of tea and set it down at his elbow.

  “Drink some of this, Father,” she said sympathetically. “It may help a bit.”

  “Thanks.”

  She returned to the tray and brought back two more steaming cups, offering one to the mage.

  “Much appreciated,” Larin said gratefully.

  Mel sat down again and sipped the hot liquid.

  “Ah, sweet and strong, just the way I like it,” she said.

  It took a few more minutes for Hallic to decipher the notebook well enough to discover the list of current leaders of the empire's guild-houses.

  “Found it!” he exclaimed with satisfaction. “For some reason, Darlheim stuck the list in the middle of the book. Either he was being extra clever or he was just sloppy. I choose to think that he was clever.”

  Mel chuckled at his expression.

  “He was clever, Father,” she told him. “Do not underestimate him, even after his death. Darlheim's health was failing, but his mind was as sharp as ever.”

  “I know, Mel,” Hallic replied as he ran a finger down the list. “I was joking. Okay, so the current leader in Crystal Main is named Lunden. Hmm, I remember him. Sly little fellow, lost an eye in a bar fight when he was young. And the leader of the guild in Orelong is...”

  He frowned at the page.

  “Gods, this writing. Ah, here it is. Strake.”

  He glanced at Mel.

  “Strake?” he repeated in surprise. “Really? That reprobate? How in the Hells did he end up leading a guild-house?”

  His daughter shrugged.

  “Since I have no idea who he is, I can't answer you,” she replied with a shrug. “Why? What's wrong with Strake?”

  Hallic put down the book and took a quick sip of his tea.

  “Well, nothing is really wrong with him,” he told her. “It's just that, when I met him, Strake was content to be a simple rogue. He would never have wanted the responsibility of running an entire guild-house. And he was a little, um, strange. We'll leave it at that. Huh. Things do change, I suppose.”

  “Sounds like someone else we know,” Larin told Mel as he nodded at her father.

  She chuckled, while Hallic grimaced.

  “I suppose it does,” he said to the mage. “Anyway, now I can give you a decent description of both leaders, if you feel up to contacting them.”

  “Certainly.”

  Larin pulled out his small mirror and quickly cast his spell.

  “Let's get started.”

  Chapter 22

  Shandon was back in the throne room later that afternoon, going through more financial statements. He would occasionally glance past the scribes huddled around him and roll his eyes at Jergen, who would smile in sympathy. It was turning into a long day.

  Suddenly Walkar, the mage who had relieved Hadd, moved forward and hurried up the dais.

  “Your majesty, I think that we are about to get some visitors,” he said hurriedly, his bald head reflecting the lights high overhead. “Please warn your guards. This is not an attack.”

  Shandon looked at him in confusion and gauged the mage's urgent look. He stood up abruptly, pushing aside the scribes.

  “Guards!” he bellowed at the royal guards standing beside the main doors. “Stay at your posts. Do nothing unless I command it!”

  The four guards all sprang to attention immediately and slammed their fists to their chests, not questioning the strange order.

  The king turned to Walkar.

  “What is happening?” he snapped.

  “Larin is coming, your majesty,” the mage replied, stroking the long braid dangling from his chin. “I can feel his power building, but I do not know more than that.”

  “Larin?” Shandon repeated. “He's Gating into the throne room? He would only do that if there was an emergency. This can't be good.”

  He quickly walked down to the bottom of the dais, Jergen and Walkar hurrying to join him.

  At that moment, a blazing flash of light blinded everyone in the room. Shandon shielded his eyes and then rubbed them to clear his vision. A crackling ball of light had appeared in the center of the throne room and suddenly vanished with a loud crash, like the sound of crystal shattering.

  Standing there were four people. The king recognized Larin, Hallic and Mel. The woman that was being held in Hallic's arms was a stranger. Her face was pale and there were splatters of blood all over her black leather clothing.

  “We need a cleric!” Hallic shouted at him.

  Shandon looked past him at the guards.

  “Get a cleric in here, quickly!” he told them.

  One of the guards immediately opened the door and ran from the room.

  Shandon, Jergen and Walkar hurried over to the group as Hallic carefully lowered the wounded woman and gently laid her down on the floor.

  The king looked at Larin, whose face was almost as pale as the woman's.

  “Are you all right?” he asked the mage. “What's happened? Who is this?”

  “Annia, the leader of the Cindercore guild-house,” Larin replied weakly.

  He was swaying and Shandon could see him shaking with fatigue.

  “Someone, get me a chair!” the king barked.

  Walkar hurriedly crossed the room and grabbed a light metal chair. He carried it back to set it down next to Shandon.

  “Thank you,” he said absently. “Larin, sit down before you fall down.”

  The mage gave him a wan smile and tottered toward the chair. Mel took him by the elbow and helped him to sit.

  Larin sighed with relief and then stared at Annia. Hallic had placed his hand on her stomach, trying to staunch the bleeding from a wound that was leaking through her tunic. Blood welled between his fingers and Annia's skin grew even paler.

  Shandon tore a piece of cloth from his sleeve, wadded it into a clump and knelt down next to Hallic.

  “Here, use this,” he urged him, slipping the material under the rogue's hand.

  “Thanks, that might help a bit,” Hallic said as he lifted his hand for a moment and allowed the king to place the cloth against the wound.

  As he pressed his hand against the wound again, the bleeding seemed to be quel
led and Hallic sighed with relief.

  “Yes, that's done it. I just hope we've stopped it in time.”

  “What in the Seven Hells happened?” Shandon asked him.

  “Treachery,” Hallic growled. “Treachery within our own ranks. Annia went to check out that baroness's estates in Cindercore, as you asked us to do, and she took another rogue with her to watch her back.”

  He looked at Annia's white face and his expression became bleak.

  “We train all of our people never to go into potentially dangerous situations alone,” he added. “Trust comes hard to most rogues, but we normally have trust in each other. That is what makes this so galling.”

  “Her companion attacked her?” Shandon asked as he glanced up at Mel.

  She nodded.

  “Mennis was a high-ranking member of the Cindercore guild chapter,” she said, her voice tinged with anger. “We thought that Annia was going to recon the estates alone, something that I considered rather foolish at the time, but it turned out that she decided to ask Mennis to go with her. To watch her back,” she added bitterly. “I wish now that she had gone alone. Damned traitor.”

  The main doors swung open and a stout dwarf wearing a white robe trimmed in gold hurried into the throne room, the guard who had left moments earlier at his back.

  “Ah, Torren,” Shandon exclaimed. “Over here!”

  The dwarf trotted toward them, his long silver beard bouncing off of his ample stomach.

  “Your majesty,” Torren said breathlessly as he joined the group. “Your guard said that you needed a cleric?”

  He saw Annia lying on the floor with Hallic still holding the now-red cloth on her stomach and he nodded gravely.

  “I see,” the cleric stated. “Move aside everyone and give me room to work, please.”

  Shandon and the others stepped back and Torren dropped heavily to his knees next to Hallic. He placed his hand on top of the rogue's.

  “Keep applying pressure to the wound,” he told Hallic.

  “I will.”

  Torren closed his eyes and began whispering, a steady litany of prayers that the others could barely make out.

  Hallic's eyes widened and he looked up at the king.

  “I can feel warmth flowing through my hand,” he said with surprise.