by RG Long
"Fellow dwarves!" he began. "We have seen a great victory on the mountain of Grandun-Krator!"
More cheers.
"And it is thanks to the help of our fellow dwarf, Gorplin, son of Thorplin, and his companions, Jurgon and Jurrin, that we celebrate today!"
Dwarves all around the hall raised their goblets to the trio and pounded the table enthusiastically.
Gorplin waved enthusiastically back at them, a warm smile on his face.
Jurgon and Jurrin turned a bit red at the attention, but managed a small wave of their own.
"Now," King Thuda said. "Get back to eating!"
The loudest cheer of all followed this statement and, without further commentary, the dwarves continued eating their way through whatever lay within reach.
Jurrin sat back and rubbed his stomach, letting out a long sigh.
"I don't think I could eat another bite," he said, looking at his empty plate. "How about you, Jurgon?"
"Yup!" said the halfling with gusto, filling his plate up with more food from the table.
"I forget how hungry you get when you do magic," Jurrin said thoughtfully.
"Saved our lives, he did," Gorplin said, smacking his lips after taking another swig from his goblet. "Well done."
Then a thought occurred to him as he looked over at Jurgon eating his way through a leg of some well-cooked animal he was unfamiliar with.
"Where'd you learn to use Rimstone, anyway?" he asked, looking at the halfling with a renewed curiosity.
Jurgon shrugged his shoulders and said through a mouthful of food, "Books."
"Just a book?" Gorplin asked, a little impressed and surprised at the same time.
Jurrin took over the talking, as Jurgon's mouth was now completely full and there was no room for even his usual short reply.
“There's a library in Big Tree,” he began after swallowing a piece of bread himself. “A small one mind you, Gorplin sir, but it had this trunk in it, you see. When we were, oh what do you think Jurgon, ten or twelve?”
Jurgon nodded as he ate.
“And well, we uh,” Jurrin began to turn a shade of red similar to the one he had just recovered from. “Well, sir, I've always been a bit handy with locks and such. We got into the chest in the library and saw two books in there and the stone Jurgon's been using before King Thuda gave him that new one and well, we, uh, borrowed them, sir.”
Jurgon chuckled a bit at this, apparently fondly remembering the adventure.
“That is to say,” Jurrin confessed with a blush. “We're still borrowing them. One was a book on how to Speak and the properties of Rimstone and the like. Jurgon read up on it a ton. Put a lot of the spells to good use in learning how to cook. I tried, but quite honestly, sir, I'm a better shot with a sling than a Speaker. Even Jurgon does all the cooking.”
Gorplin was in awe. Most Speakers required years of formal training to understand the art of Speaking and put it to the kind of use that Jurgon had managed on their journey so far.
“So one book was spells and the like,” Gorplin said, interested in their tale. “What about the other?”
“No idea,” Jurgon said shortly, surprising Gorplin immensely.
“That's right, sir,” Jurrin added. “It's some language we can't make out. A lot of pictures and drawings that look pretty advanced, but nothing we halflings can understand.”
He gave a half-hearted laugh.
“Not that we've shown it to anyone else in the village, sir. It was our little secret for the longest time. Everyone just came to accept that Jurgon here could do tricks when he set his mind to it and that was that.”
“Tricks, eh?” Gorplin said, looking at the halfling in a new light. He had seen much more than tricks from this little fellow. With proper training, this quiet halfling could become a powerful Speaker, there was no doubt.
He was pondering the halfling so closely that he didn't notice that King Thuda had gotten off of his throne and come to stand before them. Gorplin looked up, shocked to see him and nearly spit out the brew that was in his mouth.
“Bah! Thuda!” he said, sputtering. “King, I mean. What do you need, King Thuda?”
Though Gorplin could tell he was tired, Thuda looked pleased and pleasant.
“I need you all to get a good rest tonight,” he said proudly. “I've arranged for a room for you, as well as everything you'll need for your return journey to Thoran. For your services to Grandun-Krator, you will be well rewarded.”
“Ah ha!” Gorplin said, springing to his feet and nearly knocking down his bench, disturbing the dwarf who had sat beside him. “So you're going to send your army to come and help us?”
Thuda's face faltered a bit.
“Uh, well,” he said looking down at the floor. “That is what we can discuss tomorrow morning, after we've had a good night's sleep.”
He perked up again.
“When you're ready,” he said motioning with a hand to a dwarf who walked over to them. “Just tell Forin here that you'd like to go to your room. I'll be retiring for the evening.”
Forin looked ancient, wearing his completely white beard in a neat braid and wearing a kitchen apron around his front. He bowed to them.
“Whenever you're tired, Masters,” he said in a voice that creaked and cracked like a house that was settling.
“Bah,” Gorplin replied, looking at Jurgon who was still eating everything in sight. “Give us some time, I think.”
Forin bowed, and made his way back to a door where many others wearing the same clothes as he did were going in and out. Most were carrying empty trays out of the hall and full ones in.
Jurrin looked at Gorplin with a concerned expression.
“Why do you think he wanted to talk in the morning?” he asked Gorplin, who had sat back down opposite him.
The dwarf took another drink from his goblet and rested his head in his hand on the table.
“Bah,” he said, looking at a piece of meat that no longer looked quite as appetizing. “I'm afraid I've guessed the answer, little one.”
THE DWARVEN BEDS WERE wonderful. Each had an unbelievably comfortable pillow and matching blankets that kept them warm in the cold night air that seemed to seep into the mountain. The towels and the baths that had been drawn for them were refreshing. Even the night's sleep was fantastic, compared to the last few nights that they had shared sleeping on rocks and mats that had long lost their appeal.
But none of that could rid Gorplin of the sinking feeling he had as they walked back to the throne room, accompanied by Forin, who had attended to their every need the night before.
“I don't suppose, sir,” Jurrin said through a half yawn. They had been awoken only when they had given up on sleeping. It was several hours past dawn. “That King Thuda has more than provisions ready for us this morning?”
The thought had occurred to Gorplin more than once. Throughout their getting ready and trying to rouse Jurgon from his deep, recovering sleep, he had thought about in what manner they would be leaving Grandun-Krator.
Gorplin, though he had slept well, had dreams of returning to Thoran with nothing more than a few loaves of bread and his new Rimstone axe. The castle was in ruins, but Gorplin kept trying to offer Teresa a tear of his freshly baked loaf.
It wasn't a pleasant dream and the thought of it now kept him from answering Jurrin's question.
The trio, plus Forin, entered the King's throne room and were, again, greeted by King Thuda sitting on his magnificent throne and Nidashma breathing heavily, her head beside the king's seat. Gorplin could see that her breathing was more labored than the first time they had seen her. She was going to be recovering from the battle with the demon for a long time.
Forin left them at the door and they walked to the foot of Thuda's throne, bowing low.
“I trust you all slept well?” he asked as they stood up and looked into his face. Gorplin saw that the king wore what was supposed to be a hearty smile, but there was something else about his expression tha
t worried him. The smile seemed to end with his mouth and did not travel up to his eyes.
“Very well,” Gorplin said, inclining his head. “Thank you for the room and the comforts you gave us, my king. We are very well rested.”
Thuda nodded his head and stood to his feet.
“Wonderful,” he said, stepping down from his throne and walking closer to them. “As promised, I have here provisions for your journey back home.”
He motioned with his hand to a table to his left. On it was all types of necessities for traveling: food packaged neatly in cloth. New pots and pans for cooking. A few ropes and blankets sat in a neat stack. Three walking sticks, all the right size for the trio, rested against the table. And, to Gorplin's surprise, a few Rimstone weapons were laid out for them: a large axe, and two small daggers for the halflings.
Gorplin spent a long time gazing at the table before returning it to King Thuda.
“These are wondrous gifts,” he said truthfully. “And we are grateful for everything you have done for us.”
He meant every word he said. There would be a journey back to Beaton and then beyond that to Thoran. Supplies they would dearly need were all present.
But there was something else that they needed. Indeed, it was the reason they had come in the first place.
“And, King Thuda, will you send your troops with us as well?” Gorplin asked, finding courage to address the king after having saved him from a massive demon. There was something about helping to conquer a foe that an ally could not that made Gorplin think twice about being concerned about his young age or supposed lack of experience.
At his words, Nidashma let out a long breath of hot air that flooded the chamber. Thuda's smile nearly vanished off his face, before being replaced with a look of grim determination.
“We can send with you a guard of twenty dwarves. All hearty and strong. Each one able to carry the weapons of their fathers to great effect. They'll escort you back to Beaton, but no further.”
Nidashma let out another deep breath of wind that made Gorplin begin to sweat. He imagined that the dragon was becoming impatient with their company and was trying to hurry them along. There was something in her eyes that spoke of a great injustice. Perhaps she and the king had agreed on this measure, but Nidashma thought it too kind, thus blowing out her hot breath. In truth, Gorplin was also becoming quite hot with anger as well.
“Twenty?” he said indignantly. “Twenty dwarves to Beaton?”
Thuda's face was now more stern than anything.
“Now listen here, Gorplin, son of Thorplin.”
“Bah,” he said in reply. “You listen to me, King!”
The courage in his heart had come all the way to his throat and he knew he was bound to get them into trouble. But he didn't care.
“We came asking, no, begging for your aid. Thoran's in trouble. Likely, it'll be under attack before we can get back there. I've got friends who've gone to convince the elves and Beaton to help, too. We can't fight off this Androlion Fellgate without a proper army to throw at him. The elves I thought might not come and the men of Beaton are so messed up I doubt they'll ever decide to do anything worthwhile.”
Thuda was looking ready to pounce on them, his hand even rested on his ax, but he stayed where he was.
“But the dwarves!” Gorplin continued, now raising his voice, ashamed of his own race. “I thought I could count on the dwarves to deliver! I thought you'd be racing to get tangled in a fight for something that mattered.”
He looked the king up and down for a moment as if he saw the dwarf rightly for the first time and then said, finishing.
“I'd of thought better of you.”
The eyes of the king locked on Gorplin's for what seemed several moments before he began to bark commands in about twenty directions.
“BEGGING YOUR PARDON, Gorplin, sir,” Jurrin said as they marched along the road that led away from Grandun-Krator and back towards Beaton. “But I think you might have left your speech for after we packed up the supplies he had promised us.”
“Yup,” Jurgon replied glumly.
They had been marched out of the king's hall and, indeed, straight to the doors of Grandun-Krator shortly after King Thuda told them in no uncertain terms that he couldn't leave his mountain to be destroyed by goblins and foul creatures and that they were ungrateful for all he had done for them.
Gorplin was still so seething mad that he didn't care, at first, that they were walking out of the mountain with fewer supplies in their bags than they had going in. He still could hear Thuda's offer ringing in his ears and he grumbled aloud as they walked.
“Twenty guards and a table of supplies,” he said, infuriated. “And after we killed that demon for him, too.”
They walked along in this manner for most of the morning. It was a long time until they realized that the twin suns were overhead and that they were all starved, having skipped breakfast that morning in their rushed exit.
“What do we have to eat?” Gorplin asked, hopeful at the thought of putting some food back into his body.
Jurgon hefted off his pack and let it fall to the ground. He rummaged through it for a moment and retrieved two small packages. One contained several strips of dried meat, while the other had two pieces of bread.
“That's lunch, then?” Gorplin said, looking a bit downcast at the meager rations.
“Nope,” Jurgon said, himself casting a wary look at the packages.
Jurrin came over and shuffled around in Jurgon's pack.
“That's it, sir,” he said with a sigh. “Those are all we've got to make the trip back.”
Gorplin's mouth fell almost to the ground.
"Bah! That's it? For the whole trip?"
He couldn't believe it. They would starve before they reached the gorge. And that wasn't taking into account that they would have to walk around the thing since the bridge had been destroyed when they came over the last time.
He stared at the two sad packages and shook his head.
"Knew we should've grabbed something before they kicked us out," he said to the road.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jurgon and Jurrin exchange looks of futility. There was going to be a fair amount of hunting and gathering to get them through the journey.
"Gorplin, sir?" Jurrin said hesitantly. "The um... The water jugs are empty, too."
It was too much for the poor dwarf to handle. He felt like sitting on a nearby rock and considering how in the world they were going to make it, when he noticed the dust at his feet blowing around in tiny swirls. He looked up and saw that both of the halflings were staring behind him, mouths open wide. Jurrin held an empty water jug upside down over his hand, as if testing to see if it really was completely empty. Jurgon still had his hands in his bag.
But both had their eyes fixed behind Gorplin.
"What?" he said, wheeling around to see what they saw.
And, much to his dismay, he did.
Nidashma was flying their direction, with King Thuda on the great dragon's saddle. Gorplin had figured that he had displeased the king with his speech, but he didn't think that they were deserving of an attack. He groped for his axe, almost dumbstruck that he was going to actually use it.
But the dragon didn't breathe fire on them as it flew over. Nor did it reach out its great claws and grab them up whole. Instead, she landed several paces away from them. Her wings beat the air and dust flew into their faces. Gorplin shielded his eyes to keep the dirt away. She folded her wings to her side and bent her neck low to allow King Thuda to dismount.
He carried his axe with him, but at his side and firmly in its holster.
Gorplin saw a look of great displeasure on the king's face. The dwarf lord strode up to the trio and put his hands on his hips, looking at them scathingly.
"Hello again, sir," Jurrin said from behind Gorplin. The young dwarf made a bow to the king.
"King Thuda," he said in an unsure voice. "We've only just left. Was there something
..."
"Yes," Thuda interrupted Gorplin, eyeing him without any trace of happy thought. "I, uh..."
Nidashma let out a long sigh of hot breath.
"That is to say, we, Nidashma and I," he paused here for a moment, having glanced back at the dragon, who still wore a look of displeasure. "We have decided to send an army to Thoran."
A growl came up from the dragon's throat.
"All the dwarves we can spare."
Another snort.
"And then some."
Gorplin couldn't believe his ears. Was the king telling the truth? Just a few hours ago he had promised not to send more than two dozen dwarves. Now he was telling them that an entire army would come with them?
"Bah. Really?" he asked, almost disbelieving what his ears were hearing. "What has caused this change of heart?"
King Thuda looked back at Nidashma.
"Dragons are both old and wise," he said, more to Nidashma than to the trio. "Nida here has given council on this matter and uh..."
He paused a moment and stared hard at the ground before looking back to them, as if admitting to something he very much would have liked not to.
"She's quite persuasive."
Nidashma growled once more, opening her jaws just wide enough to show her teeth.
"And she's going to come along with us."
"Us?" Gorplin asked.
In answer to his question, the ground beneath his feet began to shudder. Marching up the road to meet them was a column of dwarven soldiers. At least five thousand, or more, it must have been. Each wore armor and bore their weapons proudly. The colors of Grandun-Krator were flown prominently in the front.
"Of course I'll be coming," King Thuda said, walking back to Nidashma and mounting his dragon, who now looked much more pleased with the entire situation. "Who else would I trust to lead my army into battle?"
36: Where Allegiances Lie
The first and largest wave of soldiers had continued to pour into the city of Beaton. The ones who held back were a part of the reserves and were not to enter the city until given orders by their commanding general. Since Rayg had killed all of the others, it meant waiting for the insane commander's orders to invade.