Lost City

by Jeffrey Poole

  Tristofer puffed out his chest and crossed his arms in a rare act of defiance. “Not in my lifetime.”

  “Nor in mine,” Breslin agreed. “We learn the identities of the intruders and put a stop to this scheme. I think that’s what the Questor’s Mark wants us to do. It wants us to save Nar!” Breslin thrust out his right hand. “Are you with me?”

  Tristofer didn’t hesitate and laid his hand over Breslin’s. “Absolutely.”

  Athos laid his hand over Tristofer’s. “I’m in.”

  Father and son added their hands to the others. “Us, too.”

  Breslin eyed the underling. “This has the potential of getting dangerous, Master Lukas. You must stick close to your father’s side at all times, is that understood?”

  Wide eyed, Lukas nodded.

  “Tristofer,” Breslin continued, “you will become Athos’ shadow. Do not leave his side for anything, no matter what you see. That reminds me, do you have a weapon?”

  Tristofer shook his head no. Breslin pulled his small hand axe from his belt and held it out handle first to the scholar, who gingerly accepted.

  “Where do we go?” Venk inquired. He looked left, then right. “Which way?”

  Breslin held the torch down low once more and indicated the ground. “We follow the footprints. A great number of them head this way, to the east.”

  Athos shoved his torch down into the ground and twisted until it was out. Breslin glanced up and then around. He noticed that the levels of light had continued to increase and were now at a level in which the torches had become unnecessary. Both torches, once extinguished, were cast aside.

  “Can you tell if the most recent tracks also head east?” Venk asked.

  Breslin and Athos squatted low and peered at the many sets of footprints scattered throughout the dust. Both dwarves nodded. Athos wordlessly pointed east.

  Gripping his crossbow tightly, while Athos brandished his axe, the two brothers took the lead while Tristofer and Lukas followed close behind. Bringing up the rear was Breslin, who was constantly turning to check behind them to verify they weren’t being followed. The number of tracks began dwindling off the farther east they progressed. As they moved away from the heart of the city, and presumably from the mass of blacksmiths, the number of tracks also declined, as clearly the focus of the massive city-wide search existed elsewhere. The tracks they were following were joined by others coming in from other parts of the city. All were headed east, the same direction they were traveling now. So many tracks converged together that they were now following a trail through the heavy blanket of dust.

  Approaching the far eastern wall of the cavern, the group stopped and stared with amazement. The trail dead-ended right at the wall, but the wall itself is what caught their attention. Carved into the granite were ten columns forty feet high. Directly in the center, with five columns on either side, was a huge arched doorway, complete with a thirty foot high door. As before with the partially closed security gate, this door, they could tell, was also ajar. A single chair, stripped of all adornments and jewels, was jammed in between the door and the frame, preventing the massive door from closing.

  The wall glowed brightly at their approach. The golden chain was present all throughout the columns and wall, but the light from the columns paled in comparison with that of the door.

  The illuminated golden chain had been expertly attached to the quartz crystals embedded within the granite door. Grand sweeping arches, more interlocking circles, and jagged patterns all covered the exquisite door, giving the first appearance of a vast conglomerated mess of swirled lines and shapes. However, the more the dwarves stared at the door, with its brightly glowing decorations, the more the many patterns and shapes seemed to blend in flawlessly with one another. The more they looked, the more they were convinced that they were looking at a masterful piece of art and that this door was the entrance to Nar’s imperial palace.

  Tristofer moaned quietly as he noticed the exquisite chair jammed into the palace door. He quietly ran his hands along the dented tarnished metal, not knowing that the chair itself was of the finest silver ever smithed. He peered anxiously into the dark recesses behind the door and immediately noticed that the open space the damaged chair had created was just enough to allow a dwarf to pass.

  Without waiting for the others, Tristofer hopped up onto the chair and boldly jumped into the darkness. The scholar watched with satisfaction as the great vaulted room began to lighten as the chamber detected movement. Moments later the rest of his group was standing next to him. Athos smacked the scholar on the back of his head, sending his spectacles flying off his nose.

  “Don’t do that again, you fool,” Athos growled ominously at him. “We stick together. You will allow one of us to go first in the future, agreed?”

  Hastily retrieving his glasses, Tristofer faced Athos’ angry glare and meekly nodded.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I had to see what was in here!”

  “Try harder next time,” Athos told him. “There’s a chance someone could still be in here.”

  “I don’t think so,” Tristofer countered. He pointed at the closest wall. Several of the golden patterns had started to glow and were becoming steadily brighter. “Had there been someone else that passed through here, this room would already be lit. Look how it illuminated itself once we arrived. We are alone, my friends.”

  Comforted by that thought, Breslin returned Mythryd to its holder on his back. A moment later he pulled the activated power hammer from his belt. Holding the unique hammer tightly in his right hand, Breslin beckoned for the others to follow.

  The room they were in must have been a dignitary receiving room as it was large enough to accommodate several hundred people. Broken tables, chairs with missing legs, and damaged walls met their eyes. They noted with dismay that many of the chairs that were still intact were similar to the chair holding open the palace door. Just like the one outside, these other chairs had been picked clean of all their jewels and other valuable accoutrements. Even the nearby walls, once festooned with gold and jewels, lay stripped clean.

  “Never have I been so ashamed to call myself a member of the Kla Rehn,” Tristofer whispered in shock. Everywhere he looked he could see further evidence of the intruders’ destructive work.

  “Do not hold all the Kla Rehn accountable,” Breslin softly told him. “I believe this is the work of one person, or perhaps by one family over a long period of time. But, by thunder, that ends now. Whatever remains will be preserved no matter the cost.”

  Tristofer softly murmured his thanks. Athos and Venk both gave the scholar a friendly slap on the back to show their friendship and their support.

  “Prints are everywhere,” Breslin reported as he squatted to inspect the floor. “I would imagine this was the first location that was pillaged, followed closely by the surrounding blacksmiths. We need to investigate, but the question is, do we do that separately or together?”

  Venk cast a worried look at his son. Athos, catching the concerned look his brother had given his nephew, cleared his throat.

  “We should stick together. We know nothing about our adversary, which unfortunately includes how well they’re armed and what their numbers are. Until we know what we’re facing, we shouldn’t split up.”

  Breslin nodded. “Agreed. Master Tristofer, you wanted to find Nar. Congratulations. We’re here. Where would you like to search first?”

  “Well, perhaps we should search for an armory. I, for one, would like to know if our adversaries are armed with Narian weapons.”

  “Agreed. We should head to –”

  Lukas suddenly grabbed Breslin’s sleeve and tugged backwards, bringing him to a stop.

  “Do you hear that?” the underling anxiously asked.

  Fearing that Lukas had heard something which indicated one, or more, of the intruders had returned, Breslin tossed the power hammer to his left hand while reaching his arm behind to pull Mythryd free. Seconds later, Venk and
Athos were also holding their weapons.

  “What is it?” Breslin whispered down to Lukas while straining to hear whatever sound the underling had heard. “What do you hear? Have they returned?”

  “I hear…”

  “Tapping,” Venk finished for his son as he straightened up. He looked around the large chamber and wrung a finger in each ear. “At least I thought I did. I don’t anymore.”

  “It’s stopped,” Lukas whispered. He pointed back towards the far wall of the room. Two large, and very open doors were visible, as were several dozen prints all headed in that direction. “I think it came from that way.”

  Athos shook his head. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “No one hears anything at the moment,” Venk softly told him. “Lukas heard it for just a moment.”

  Lukas suddenly jumped up and grabbed his father’s hand. “There it is again! Do you hear it?”

  The rest of the group finally heard it. A soft, repetitive tapping echoed softly throughout the room.

  …tap-taptaptap-tap-tap-tap-taptap-tap…

  The tapping stopped as abruptly as it had started.

  “I heard it that time,” Breslin quietly informed his companions. “Young Lukas is right. It came from that way. Follow me and keep quiet. No unnecessary speaking, is that understood? Tristofer, that goes for you, too.”

  Tristofer nodded and tapped his sealed lips.

  Once more, the tapping resumed. Breslin motioned for them to follow. As quietly as he dared, Breslin moved off towards the source of the noise. They passed through one of the open doors and entered a large, curved hallway that led away from the main hall. Breslin held up a hand and signaled everyone to wait. Within a few minutes, the golden chains present in the hallway began glowing, giving off their welcoming light to the visitors. After waiting a few minutes more so that they could see where they were going, they followed the curved hallway until it dead-ended into a smaller chamber with many doors leading off in different directions.

  Standing just inside the second room, they waited, motionless, for either their eyes to acclimatize to the lack of sufficient light, or else for the chains to awaken and give off their illumination. A few moments later they were off again, heading towards a doorway twenty feet away.

  …tap-taptaptap-tap-tap-tap-taptap-tap…

  “That’s it,” Breslin said in the softest of whispers. “Keep tapping. You’re making this too easy for us.”

  Athos softly grunted in agreement.

  The hallway they had just entered had doors on either side of the hall for a stretch of at least two hundred feet. Venk counted nearly twenty five doors, a dozen on each side, before they were forced to stop. Another door barred their way, only this door was unlike any they had encountered thus far.

  A solid iron door, resting on recently oiled hinges, blocked their way. No fewer than four heavy bars stretched across the length of the door and anchored itself into the stone walls on either side of the door. Heavy iron padlocks held each of the bars firmly in place.

  “Does that look Narian to you?” Breslin asked, confused. “What’s a door like this doing here?”

  Athos walked up to the sturdy metal door and peered through the tiny slit at eye-level.

  “Looks to be at least a foot thick. The bars are set into the wall on both sides, and each bar is locked in place. Someone clearly wants to keep people out.”

  “I’d say it’s more likely that they want to keep someone in,” Tristofer countered.

  Athos, Venk, and Breslin turned to stare at the impressive iron door. One by one, they turned to look down at the power hammer.

  “If you use that,” Venk cautioned, “then the chances of getting in and out of here unnoticed become very slim.”

  Breslin hefted the power hammer and eyed the door.

  “If there is someone on the other side of that door then this is starting to make perfect sense. Whoever it is gave us the hammer. Why? Because he knew that there would be no escape without it. Look at the door! Impenetrable, I’d say.”

  “Unless you have a hammer that can pulverize rocks with a single blow,” Tristofer whispered, understanding.

  “Exactly. Stand back. We’re going to find out what’s on the other side.”

  Venk steered Lukas away from the door and retreated a safe distance down the hallway. Once he was sure his son was out of danger he loaded his crossbow and waited to see what the outcome would be. Athos, also armed and ready, joined him. Tristofer appeared moments later, both fingers shoved into his ears. Venk clapped his hands over his son’s ears just as Breslin let the first blow fall.

  Venk cringed at the sound. The concussive blast echoed noisily down through the hall and, Venk was sure, out into the city. A second blow landed, and now a gritty cloud of dirt and debris appeared. The third blow struck, and despite the heavy ringing in their ears, they could hear a great cracking of stone. The fourth blow punched the steel door right through the wall and sent it toppling over with a loud clang.

  Fanning away the heavy dust and pulverized stone that was now prevalent in the air, Breslin waited patiently for his vision to return. Twenty seconds later, when it finally did, they could see the true power the hammer held, as the door itself was still in one piece but was now heavily dented. The four bars that had been anchored into the surrounding stone wall had been ripped away from wall, taking huge chunks of stone with it.

  They were now in a well lit chamber that was piled high with books, scrolls, charts, and maps. A lumpy mattress was pushed up into a corner. Several threadbare chairs were scattered about, including a large chair that would be considered over-sized for a dwarf but average for a human. Adjacent to this chair was a rickety shelf full of ancient books. Sitting in the chair, looking like he wasn’t the least bit surprised that someone had just forced their way into his chamber, was the most ancient and wizened dwarf that anyone had ever seen.

  A long, dirty, unbraided beard lay unfurled along the ground. Long, thin white hair also came close to brushing the ground, but had been tied up with a simple leather cord. A plain threadbare tunic, long since faded to khaki, and a pair of worn black trousers patched in several places, completed the picture.

  Before anyone could ask the elderly dwarf a question, the ancient fellow surprised them with a smile and a bow. He turned to Breslin and shook his head.

  “You sure took your time, boy,” the ancient fellow accused. His voice was clear, strong, and completely belied his appearance. “I had just about given up hope.”

  Breslin was flummoxed. He cleared his throat nervously.

  “Do you know me?”

  The little fellow threw his head back and laughed heartily. What came out was a cackle that practically curdled their blood.

  “I should say so, boy! Maelnar, is that any way to treat your father?”

  Breslin’s eyes opened in shock. No one ever called him by his birth name. In order to prevent confusion, he always asked that people call him by his middle name, Breslin. Who was this person?

  “How do you know my name?”

  Confused, Lukas looked at the tiny old man. He pointed back at Breslin.

  “His name is Breslin, not Maelnar.”

  “Breslin? Breslin?? You’re lying. You must be.”

  “Maelnar Breslin is my given birth name,” Breslin explained to his companions. “To make sure the two of us aren’t confused, my father goes by Maelnar and I go by Breslin.”

  “Your father?”

  Everyone turned back to the ancient dwarf. He slowly got down from his chair and hobbled over to Breslin to study him closer. The old dwarf’s eyes widened with disbelief.

  “I can see it now. Dear me, how long have I been gone?”

  Breslin stared at the tiny stooped being and dropped down to one knee as finally realized who he was facing.

  “Grandfather.”

  Chapter 12 – Once Upon A Nar

  “Grandfather? You’re his grandfather?” Venk kept shifting his gaze from the tin
y wizened being to his friend kneeling on the ground. His gaze finally settled on Breslin. “You never mentioned your grandfather was also searching for Nar!”

  “That’s because I didn’t know,” Breslin clarified as he slowly regained his feet. He turned to his grandfather and bowed once more. “Grandfather, may I present my companions? Over there in the black armor is Athos. In the red armor is his brother, Venk. The underling is Venk’s son, Lukas. On my right is Tristofer, of the Kla Rehn, who has been assisting us. My friends, I’d like you to meet my grandfather, Kasnar.”

  After the introductions were over, Venk approached the old dwarf and bowed.

  “Did you send the Questor’s Mark?”

  Kasnar smiled and nodded.

  “Aye. Pleased, I am, to see that you understood it for what it was.”

  Venk pointed at Tristofer. “Only because of him. I thought it was just a burn on my son’s back.”

  At this, Kasnar cocked his head and stared at Venk. Slowly, he turned his head so that he was staring straight at Lukas.

  “Are you telling me your son bore the Questor’s Mark?”

  “Bore? You mean bear. Aye. He still has it.”

  Kasnar shook his head. “Impossible. The mark served only to bring the bearer here.”

  Venk beckoned Lukas to come over.

  “I just looked at it less than an hour ago. Trust me, it’s there.”

  “Indeed? Can you show me?”

  Knowing what was coming, Lukas pulled up his shirt and exposed his back to the old man. Kasnar smiled and nodded.

  “Just as I thought. There’s nothing there.”

  “What?” Venk sputtered. He spun his son around so that he could see for himself. Sure enough, the mark was gone. Lukas’ back was as bare as the day he was born.

  “It’s gone!”

  “Of course it’s gone,” Kasnar scolded. “You accomplished your mission, therefore the quest was completed. No more mark.”

  Smiling profusely, all anger forgotten, Venk stepped back a few steps and pulled his son back with him.