by JA Andrews
A putrid stench filled the room. In the middle of the huge bed, under a pile of covers, was a dwarf with a grey face and a withered expression.
“Horgoth!” Douglon bellowed, striding across the room. “What in the depths of the deepest pit have you done?”
The High Dwarf cracked an eye open and let out a groan. “Douglon, you good-for-nothing excuse for a dwarf. Where have you been? I’ve needed you for ages, but you’re never here. You’re always off with humans. And elves.” His breath caught in his throat with a jagged noise and he grimaced in pain.
“It smells like a rubbish heap went rancid in here,” Douglon said. “Someone get new linens.”
A servant hurried from the room.
Horgoth reached out and clutched Douglon’s arm. “They tried to take my leg, cousin.” He laughed a gurgling, horrible noise. “But I wouldn’t let them. No surgeon’s gonna hack me into bits.”
Douglon lifted the edge of the cover and threw his hand over his nose. Sini caught a glimpse of the High Dwarf’s leg. The skin was purplish, eaten away in huge red, oozing chunks. The foot was almost black, and the wave of foul stench that rolled out made her gag.
Douglon dropped the blanket and Horgoth let out a hiss of pain. His breathing was ragged and shallow.
“You fool,” Douglon said. “Why didn’t you let them take it? If I’d been here, I’d have held you down and chopped it off myself.”
“I’d have had you executed, you ungrateful clod,” Horgoth yelled, a wild edge to his voice.
“Executing me would’ve been better than you dying without an heir!”
“You always did hate me.” Horgoth closed his eyes and turned his face away. “The idiot surgeon says it’s bad, but I threw him in the dungeon. Tried to kill me, he did. Until I’m back on my feet, you will stay here and be useful.”
“You fool,” Douglon said more quietly. “It’ll take a miracle to get you back on even one foot. Lucky for you, I brought a miracle worker.”
Horgoth squinted at Sini. “Is that a human? Get her out of here!”
The guards stepped forward, but at a glare from Douglon, paused. “This is Sini. She’s a Keeper and a healer. And she’s going to heal you. If you complain about her again, or say anything unkind, I will muzzle you until she’s done.”
Horgoth glared at Douglon but said nothing more.
Douglon motioned Sini closer. “What do you need?”
Sini kept her hand over her face to ward off the smell. There was no sunlight here. Nothing living at all except the dwarves and the other humans who were standing by the door. There wasn’t nearly enough energy here to heal him. “How big of a fire can you build?”
“In that ridiculous thing? As big as you need. Stupid extravagance. Took six years to carve the chimney all the way up to—”
“Then build a fire,” Sini cut him off. “As big as you can.” She cast out toward the High Dwarf. The vitalle in his body moved sluggishly. His entire leg and whole sections of his gut were dark and lifeless. Maybe even the fire wouldn’t be enough.
Douglon shouted commands and the fire was stoked. Sini went to the other side of the bed, pulled some energy from the fire and began to feed it into Horgoth’s body. Unlike sunfire, the vitalle from the fire was thin. It burned as it flowed into her hand, and burned as it went out into the High Dwarf. She couldn’t find the edges of the dying flesh at first, and she searched around, lost, before she realized there was nothing to find. His body wasn’t fighting. Stagnant energy hovered near his chest and his head. The rest of his body was wasting away.
She funneled more vitalle into his chest, burning through her palm, pushing at the edges of the living parts, spreading it into the damaged flesh. His body didn’t grab at the energy the way it should, and the excess vitalle just faded away.
The fire blazed higher and Sini drew in more energy from the flames, grimacing against the pain in her hands and wishing for the painless power of the sunfire. She picked a spot near Horgoth’s gut to funnel it into. The energy along the edges of the dark spot flared a bit and attacked the dying flesh but made no progress. She grabbed more energy, testing different places, pushing against the coolness at the base of his lungs, at the top of his leg, deep into his gut.
Horgoth thrashed his head, his breathing ragged.
Nothing worked. There was no wound to heal here. Or if there was, the flesh around it was so weak it wasn’t trying. His leg was dead and dark. The death had crept up through his blood, spreading everywhere else. Anything that should have been healing was decaying instead.
She pulled her hand off him and glanced up at Douglon. “There’s nothing I can do.”
Douglon’s face hardened. “Heal him.”
“This isn’t healing,” she said quietly. “His body isn’t just damaged. Huge parts of it are dead. His leg, his gut.” Douglon shook his head, but she continued. “I can’t bring them back to life.”
Horgoth’s eyes were closed, and he made no indication he’d heard. Douglon sank to his knees next to the bed and dropped his head into his hands.
He made no sound for a long moment. “How long?” he asked in a muffled voice.
Sini cast out again. “I don’t know.” Leaning against the bedpost, she set her hand on Horgoth’s good foot over the blankets and funneled in vitalle again.
Alaric crossed the room to the bed and Sini felt the ripple as he cast out toward the High Dwarf. “It’s no use, Sini. He needed help a week ago. It’s too late.”
Douglon heaved a sigh and looked toward the soldier. “Go find Patlon.”
“He’s not here, m’lord.”
“Do not call me that, Haldar.”
The guard shifted, but gave a reluctant nod. “Patlon left to find you at the Elder Grove several hours ago.”
Douglon closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were resigned. “Well, track him down. And find all these humans rooms with beds long enough for their ridiculous legs.”
The dwarven beds were surprisingly comfortable. Being only slightly taller than dwarf height, no one had any trouble finding Sini a bed near the royal apartments, and she collapsed into the thick wool mattress the moment she was left alone
A distant commotion woke her. Her room was lit with the same mosslight as before, and it was impossible to tell how long she’d slept. From the fogginess in her head, it wasn’t long.
Pest leaned against the wall outside her door.
Sini cast a dramatically suspicious look down the hallway and whispered, “Am I in danger from the dwarves?”
A dwarf came down the hall, giving both humans a disapproving look. Pest met it with his own flat stare.
Sini sighed, “Maybe I am. The dwarves aren’t terribly welcoming, are they?” The commotion she’d heard came from a different direction than Horgoth’s bedchamber.
“The throne room,” Pest said. “The other Keepers are there.”
“I suppose we should join them.” She spun her ring and peered down the tunnel they stood in. It was quiet, but it emptied out into a busier one not too far away.
“Would you like the quick route, or the quiet route?” Pest asked.
“Quiet,” she answered immediately.
He nodded approvingly. “Follow me.” Turning the opposite direction, he led her into a maze of tunnels.
“How do you know where you’re going?” she asked after the fourth turn. “Have you been to Duncave before?”
“No. Roan took first watch at your door, and I explored.” He shot her a grin.
“Do you enjoy skulking in dark hallways?”
“Very much.”
Sini laughed. “It’s nice to know you have pleasures beyond knifing.”
“If we’re lucky, we’ll get to do both at the same time.”
“Yes,” she answered, “that sounds lovely.”
After far more turns than she could possibly have retraced, they turned into a wide hall. At the end of it, heavy wooden doors braced with iron bands were flung open to an enormou
s cavern. At least the impression of the room was enormous. The far walls and ceiling were lost in darkness. To the left, a huge stone mantle stood with a real fire burning it in. But the fire was set far back in the gaping opening and only cast light directly out onto a long, low table. The floor was black stone, and the brightness of the flames somehow sank into it instead of brightening it. Dozens of mosslight lanterns were lit, but the room remained locked in shadows.
Will, Alaric, and Roan stood at the end of the table next to Douglon. Sini joined them and Pest positioned himself in the shadows alongside the fireplace, disappearing completely aside from the glints from his knife handles.
“…the absolute worst thing that could happen to either me or the dwarves.” Douglon was saying. He glanced at the tall chair at the end of the table, then sank into one of the smaller ones along the side. “I have to abdicate.”
Will and Alaric exchanged glances. “Who’s next in line?” Alaric asked.
“My imbecile cousin Tolroth. He hates everyone who isn’t a dwarf.” He glanced at Alaric. “He stopped speaking to me after I traveled with you. And when I decided to stay with Rass he tried to have me banished for consorting with and abetting a dangerous enemy.”
“He’s clearly never met Rass,” Will said.
“The dwarves need to wake up and realize they’re a part of the world. If Tolroth has the crown they’ll just hide deeper in these caves and never even pop their heads out.” Douglon leaned on the table and dropped his head into his hands. “But I can’t stay here. I can’t abandon Rass.”
“Aside from his isolationist ideals,” Alaric asked, “Would Tolroth make a good high dwarf?”
“No,” Douglon answered emphatically, looking up. “He’s selfish and childish and spoiled. He picks fights with anyone he thinks has insulted him. He has never once seen any situation from any point of view besides his own.”
“Then you can’t abdicate to him,” Will said.
“Why do you think I haven’t already? He’s the one dwarf in Duncave worse for this position than me!”
“I don’t think you’d make a bad high dwarf,” Sini said, sitting down across from him. “Over the last four years the Keepers have made me read about a lot of rulers.” Douglon looked unimpressed. “A lot. Like every ruler of Queensland, every ruler of Coastal Baylon or Napon that we know of, the three elvish rulers we know. I studied everything we have about High Dwarves Bellrott the Grim,”—Douglon’s eyebrow rose—“Frita Mossflinger, and Lugg Hammerston the Younger.” There had been at least one more dwarf she’d read about, but she couldn’t quite remember her name. Besides, Will always said groups of three sounded more dramatic. “You have everything a good ruler should. You’re levelheaded. You’ve traveled widely and learned to understand people different than yourself. You’re loyal.”
“We all know you’ll delegate tasks and not take on too much yourself,” Will pointed out.
Douglon glared at him.
“And you’ve lost someone,” Alaric added, “which changes a person.” He studied Douglon for a moment. “You could be the best thing that’s happened to Duncave in a long time.”
The dwarf shook his head slowly. “It’ll destroy everything I love. I know it will.”
“You’re not your uncle,” Alaric said. “Just because he couldn’t handle the throne doesn’t mean you can’t.”
“And Rass? What happens to her?”
No one answered.
“The dwarves need a leader now, Douglon,” Will said. “It’s you, or you put Tolroth on the throne. No one will blame you for stepping away from something you’ve never wanted. If you’re abdicating, then Queensland will get no help from the dwarves and we’ll be on our way, and you can go back to the Greenwood.”
Douglon sank back in his chair. Footsteps rang out near the door and the dwarf sighed. “I can’t let Tolroth take the throne. I love my people more than that.” He looked up at Alaric. “For now, at least until this crisis is done, I’ll take the crown.” He glared at them all as though it were their fault. “But I can’t promise I’ll do it forever.”
“You might want to keep that feeling to yourself,” Will said quietly as a handful of dwarves entered the room. “That’s not the sort of sentiment that breeds loyalty.”
“They probably already know,” Douglon said miserably.
One of the dwarves called out a greeting to Sini and she recognized Douglon’s cousin, Patlon, who’d helped rescue her from the Sweep.
“You got here quickly.” She stood to greet him. “Unless I slept longer than it feels like.”
“It’s a little after dawn,” Patlon answered. “I traveled a different way than you, but reached Ragnoor not long after you had, and followed you back here.” He frowned. “You got taller, lass. You were shorter than me a few years ago.”
She was barely taller than him now, but she grinned. “This is the only place on earth I’m tall. It feels odd.”
“I heard the elves are all wee little things now,” Patlon said.
“True. I suppose I’m tall there too.” The dwarf looked exactly the same as he had four years ago. His beard, so dark it was almost black, hung over his broad chest. He wore leather armor nicked and worn from years of use. Sini leaned forward and gave him a hug. He stiffened before patting her back awkwardly. She released him with a grin. “You look well.”
Patlon shrugged. “I was better before I was turned into Douglon’s advisor.”
The rest of the dwarves started laying their axes along the wall near the door.
“Don’t bother with that,” Douglon waved at the weapons. “I’m not Horgoth. I’m not paranoid you’re all trying to kill me. In fact, I’d take it as a kindness if one of you would axe me before I have to sit on that wretched throne.” He flicked his hand toward the darkness of the room.
Far across the cavern a vague grey shape rose from the floor like some huge, rough pillar of silver that thinned up to the right, reaching toward the unseen ceiling. Sini peered through the darkness at it, but she couldn’t make much out except the occasional glitter from the torchlight.
“Everybody sit, and let’s get this over with,” Douglon said.
“How’s Horgoth?” Sini asked Will quietly, sitting down in the chair next to him.
“Alive, barely. Douglon retrieved the surgeon from the dungeon. He says it’ll be any time now.”
“Stop dawdling in the shadows,” Douglon snipped at the newcomers. “We have things to do. Most of you know Keeper Alaric from his earlier visits. Listen to him.” Douglon dropped into a tall-backed chair at the end of the table and waved impatiently for Alaric to speak.
Alaric stood and told the dwarves about Lukas and the current threats to Queensland.
“As you can see,” Alaric concluded, “there are problems all along our southern border, the gold trade with Gulfind looks to be permanently cut off, and the towns along our western border are being controlled by Lukas and primed for revolt.” He paused. “No one’s sure how much time we have, but it’s clear we have a good deal of trouble coming.”
“Oh,” said a voice from the door, “you have a lot more trouble than you know.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sini turned with everyone else to see a man hobbling into the room, leaning heavily on a cane. The firelight glinted red off his beard.
“Killien!” Will jumped up and strode across the floor to him.
Sini’s stomach tightened and she almost stood before she caught herself, a mixture of happiness and nerves swirling inside her. Killien limped forward a step and she fought the compulsion to help him. The man wasn’t her master any longer and she was under no obligation to him. Clenching her hand on her lap, she stayed seated. The act felt defiant.
Killien’s face was so familiar it made her chest burn with emotions she could not name. But he wasn’t exactly the same. His normally neat beard, which had always been accented with a few thin braids, was wild.
He embraced Will with enthusiasm and a
grunt of pain before coming over to the table. Killien caught sight of her and his smile faltered. “Hello, Sini,” he said cautiously.
His face was thin, and sharp lines of worry were creased into his brows. But more than that, there was a haunted, defeated look in his eyes.
Her rebellious feelings evaporated. There was nothing to rebel against here. This man had no say over her. She was free of him, and free of everything about that life. Despite a pang of pity at his appearance, she couldn’t help smiling at the thought. “Hello, Killien.”
Before he could answer, Douglon broke in. “You can catch up later. Who let you into Duncave, Killien?”
“I did,” Patlon said. “He’s been recovering here for the better part of a week. And you need to hear what he has to say.”
Will sat back down next to Sini. Killien on his far side.
“Killien?” Roan asked, looking coldly across the table. “The Torch of the Morrow clan?”
“Sorry.” Will said. “This is Killien, Torch of the Morrow. He and I have been in correspondence since my time on the Sweep. Yes, he is a Roven, but he is trusted by the Keepers.”
Killien cleared his throat. “It’s not only in Queensland that Lukas has been busy. Over the summer he reappeared on the Sweep. He’s united the clans and gathered an army.”
Sini stared at him. The Sweep? Lukas had been as far east as the moors of Gringonn, and as far west as the Sweep? Was there anywhere he hadn’t been?
“Are you sure it was Lukas?” Will asked. “I can’t imagine him walking onto the Sweep and telling everyone who he was.”