Alfred 2: And The Underworld (Alfred the Boy King)

by Ron Smorynski

  “The water is heavy. It will float you. Try it. You have a pain. Let me see it.”

  “What, are you some kind of healer?”

  “My father... was...”

  Dunther grimaced and nodded. Tilting slowly, he lost his balance. Nubio caught him, and they both laughed. Dunther nodded again and carefully stretched himself prone, slowly beginning to float. Nubio nodded good and pulled up Dunther's ragged pant leg. He felt along the knee, touching it lightly. Dunther grimaced in pain, each convulsion sinking him slightly into the water.

  “Relax, Lord Dunther. Your knee has healed, but you have many scars within.”

  “Scars within?”

  “Yes, just like you scar on the outside, you can scar within. These add to your pain if you leave them there.”

  Dunther's eyebrows rose. “How do you get them out?”

  “Like this,” Nubio said, rubbing the knee and leg hard.

  Dunther gritted his teeth and blinked in dizzying pain. The old man floating nearby chuckled in a hoarse crazy way.

  Nubio rubbed even harder, in a furious manner. Dunther gagged and contorted, bobbing up and down, and finally went under the water. He saw Nubio above him, pushing and yanking, sending explosions of pain into his leg. Dunther wanted to drown right there in three feet of water. He shot out all of his air in silver bubbles and rolled his eyes back.

  Nubio lifted Dunther up out of the water. Dunther seemed to explode out in a furious splash as Nubio set him upright. Dunther rubbed his eyes and gasped for air, tottering a bit as water and tears cascaded down his face. He shook it off, rubbing his eyes and glaring at Nubio.

  His anger didn’t last long. Nubio's face was as dark as Dunther had ever seen. So were his people, who floated or sat nearby looking at him. But the whites of their eyes and their white teeth shown like beautiful sparkling diamonds. Such happy contrasts delighted Dunther's very soul.

  He caught Nubio for balance and then realized something. He was standing on his own in the water, amazed. Then impatiently, he stomped out of the water and stood on dry land. He looked down at his leg and balanced himself. He grabbed his knee and rubbed it. It still had pangs but nothing like before. Kicking it out, he felt strength return.

  “You'll have to come back for another rubbing!” Nubio smiled. “Much harder!”

  “You are indebted to this great knight, Nubio,” the old man chimed in, floating by. “For your freedom.”

  Nubio shrugged and then giggled, covering his mouth.

  Dunther hopped on the leg. Though it was still weak, he felt new strength, and the pain was indeed much less. Dunther waved his finger at Nubio, saying, “You are your father's son.”

  Dunther hobbled only slightly now as he traversed an impressive stone walkway to the Dragon's Maw. Nearby was a woman and her husband, working with the gnomes. Gnomes crossed the rocky terrain, bringing well carved stones and buckets of mortar. It was an impressive feat of work in such a short time.

  Dunther recognized the two as Deago, the mason, and his wife Stanba. They were covered in lime and mortar, happily building the walkway. He interrupted their little bout of tossing mortar at each other and then kissing a bit too much, believing no one was about – except that now, of course, Dunther was above on the walkway. They spotted him and separated quickly, bowing and returning to their prodigious work.

  In the old days Dunther would have yelled and beat them. Today, a new man, he smiled and nodded.

  Along with many gnome helpers, Deago and Stanba had built a wall around the Refuge near the tunnel entrances. It was not too high, but high enough to keep the calm lake acting like a moat. They also made walkways the miners could use without disturbing the water.

  Dunther continued along the walkway, which went over the rough waters of the underground river and waterfall. The huge wall of white water came crashing down right before him. It was a stupendous sight. Along the walkway a stone work table had been built. Boggin suddenly appeared gripping steel tongs that held a piece of molten steel.

  “Hot! Very hot! Watch it!” he shouted, easily making it to the table near the waterfall. Dipped into the cold water, the red glowing steel piece steamed violently. Boggin winked and nodded.

  Lord Dunther carefully walked around Boggin and his cooling piece of steel.

  “Another knight is here!” Boggin yelled to his son, who was coming up the pathway.

  “Which one?!” yelled Broggia.

  “I think its Lord Dunther, your friend!”

  Dunther gave Boggin a look. Boggin winked, pulling the cooled steel out and rushing back to the nearby Dragon's Maw.

  Dunther saw the incredible work area that had been recently erected. Gnomes were hammering and tinkering away at steel pieces. Others were tending to the lava, carefully dropping in iron ingots and charcoal mixtures. Stone tables and benches were set up. Dunther felt as if he was in a castle workshop rather than a cavernous lair.

  Dunther noticed that Gorham and Murith were there. They stood like scarecrows, the glow of the lava giving them a strange red hue.

  “Gorham, Murith...”

  They both nodded.

  “King Alfred told me to come here?!” Dunther added.

  “Yes sir, Lord Dunther.” Broggia spoke loudly, above the roar of the waterfall. “For a fittin!”

  “Fittin?”

  “Yes, a fittin! For your armour!”

  “Armour?” Dunther leaned on his better leg.

  “Yes, a knight's armour!” Broggia yelled.

  “And a blade!” Sir Murith said.

  Dunther now realized that Gorham and Murith already had pieces of steel temporarily placed on them. Gnomes were using string to measure and fit. A couple, along with Broggia, approached Dunther and began tying strings on him. They were very busy all about him as they pushed up his arms into the scarecrow position.

  Dunther felt deeply content, standing amidst the greatest feat of armour smithing the West has ever known.

  Chapter Fifty-Two: The Army of the North

  A giant vulture sat atop a crumbled wall in Grotham Keep. Snowflakes fell from the night sky, covering the rubble-filled land. The vulture was strapped with a black saddle riddled with chains and metal rings. Standing on the ground in a black robe and scaly armour was a veiled man or evil spirit. It had a horned helmet and a mighty jagged sword. Though it was a third the size of the ogres it stood near, it seemed larger and more powerful.

  The ogres and their War Chief huddled by fires, quivering in makeshift dino skins and crusty furs. They were eating badly cooked chunks of meat they had to roast themselves. It was a cold dreary night for them.

  “An army from the north marches here, an army of bugbears,” the Dark Servant hissed in deep scratching tones.

  “Bugbearz too big, Dark Servant! Tellz your witch dey hidez in duh tunnelz unduh neath uzz!”

  “The army of bugbears carries with it tunnel beasts,” the Dark Servant said. “They will weed out the boy king.”

  The War Chief snorted.

  “You are slavers, Ogres of the Orient. You failed Gorbogal. Now she must spend her powers to save you and finish the task.”

  “Weez don't needz no sav'n! Weez leave!”

  The Dark Servant stepped forward just as a hot wind seemed to pass through the ogres and their War Chief. He lifted his black gauntlet with pointed fingers and made a fist. “You will not defy the Witch, and you will not fail her again.”

  The War Chief felt a choking sensation. The other ogres began to cough and gag. The War Chief lifted his hand in surrender. Though they were the toughest and foulest of beast men, in their strength and size, the ogres required a lot of oxygen.

  The Dark Servant waved his hand, and suddenly a gentle breeze seemed to flow around the ogres. They breathed heavily again, gasping for air.

  “You will hold this castle until you catch the boy. And you will show the world of men that no boy or kingdom of man can defy the Witch.”

  The War Chief nodded in exhaustion. The
Dark Servant turned and stopped. Amidst the flurry of snowflakes and shadows, he saw a small brown mouse. It seemed to be looking right at him. It scurried to the carcass of a dead rhino and began chewing on the rotting meat. It actually made the Dark Servant cringe and shiver. He hesitated. The War Chief looked at him and snorted. The Dark Servant turned and lifted himself onto the giant vulture.

  The War Chief and ogres huddled around their fires as the vulture flew off into the night.

  The mouse spit out the carrion and scurried away.

  Chapter Fifty-Three: Winter Solace

  “An army of bugbears?!” Sir Murith exhaled.

  “The vilest and largest of the goblin folk!” Abedeyan added.

  “Not found in the Underworld!” Gib exclaimed.

  It seemed a War Council was convened under the largest blue mushroom. All glowed in blue hues as they sat on smaller mushrooms or stones.

  The three knights, Lord Dunther, Sir Gorham and Sir Murith, were present.

  The gnomes were represented by Gib and his brother, the gnome King Gup. Also, his close friend Pep was there, chewing on a delicious apple, completely healed from his wound.

  Verboden stood calm, leaning against his staff amongst Hedor and his men.

  “Bugbears from the North?” Hedor said. “They are almost as big as the ogres. Furry and furious like bears, they reside in snowy mountainous regions. They could attack us in the dead cold of winter!”

  “Don't bears hibernate in winter?” Alfred asked.

  “Not these,” Dunther said. “Evil forces use them in mountainous regions in the winter. Many kingdoms of men fell from these beastmen.”

  “And these tunnel beasts, did they say anything more of them, King Alfred?” Gup asked.

  Alfred sat in thought and seemed to wake from it. “Oh, no! The dark figure said very little. The ogres weren't too talkative either.”

  “Well, whatever they are, leave'em to us gnomes!” Gib said, standing tall however short he was. “We rule the tunnels and caves!”

  Alfred looked at all present. He still seemed to be coming out of a deep thought.

  “What's he doing?” Gib nudged Dunther.

  “He's planning, shhh,” Dunther said.

  Alfred stood and walked about. Then he crouched in his computer playing position – one hand zig-zagging a mouse, the other typing on an invisible keyboard.

  “Is he casting a spell?” Pep asked.

  “Possibly,” Dunther said.

  “Bugbears from the North?” said Alfred. “Big burly hairy beasts. They can't attack us down here. But the tunnel beasts can. They might use them to chase us out. They don't know about the gnomes.”

  “No, they don't. But they will!” Gib high-fived Pep and tried to high-five Gup, but his brother acted kingly instead.

  “The gnomes will deal with the tunnel beasts. Tunnel beasts? What could they be?” Alfred further pondered.

  “Serpents! Cave drakes!” Gib said.

  “Our spring-loaded javelin shooters can shoot them full of holes!” Gup added.

  “And the armour for knights?!” Alfred asked.

  “Coming along superbly, King Alfred,” said Gorham, standing and bowing. “Our smiths and the gnome smiths have crafted the finest armour I have ever seen or heard of in legend or truth.”

  “We have much to plan and many things to do,” Alfred said, posing once again with keyboard and mouse.

  Later, as Alfred and Dunther sat alone in Alfred’s tent sharing small cups of tea, Dunther continued the discussion. “Loranna and her archers, Cory and the spearboys, Hedor and his men – are they even able to fight in this battle?” he asked. “They are no match for the bugbears or ogres. Alfred, my King, I think they should sit this one out. I'll use Kurik and his few men. Some of the gnome warriors, they are capable with their javelin shooters.”

  “How can you trust Kurik and his soldiers?”

  “I've seen his revelation. His previous masters would have easily killed him. He wishes to gain his freedom and is willing to fight for it.”

  Just then Loranna and Cory burst into the tent, which wasn’t really meant for four people. They plopped down beside them. Loranna quickly poured tea for Cory and herself.

  “We want to fight! We will fight!” she declared.

  “We're stronger,” added Cory in a bragging tone. “We've been training and have better steel spears!”

  “I and the girls are training extensively!” said Loranna. “We know the enemy now. Broggia and the gnomes are crafting better arrows for us, sharper, able to pierce deep into any ogre skin!”

  “These ogres will still come at you and can crush you with one blow,” Dunther said. “They aren't nibbling ratkins or weak-kneed goblins. They are brutal battering giants! Loranna, in an instant you could be killed no matter how many arrows you unleashed upon one!”

  “Then, you will be there to protect me!”

  “What?”

  “Any archer, adult or child, would be crushed by their blows,” Loranna explained. “Archers are to be protected by the armoured soldier as they unleash their volleys. Why is this any different?” With that she sipped her tea.

  “Because you are a young beautiful lady!” Dunther said after a pause.

  All sat quiet for a moment. Loranna couldn't help but glance at Alfred, who gulped his tea.

  “Loranna, you should protect the king, methinks!” Dunther said.

  Alfred perked up.

  “That's my job!” said Cory, slurping tea.

  “Yes!” cried Loranna, winking at Alfred. “Cory can do that while Lord Dunther and his knights protect the archers and we do our job.”

  Alfred sat a bit glum as Cory smiled at him.

  “What use is it? I will protect you,” Dunther finally said.

  Loranna nodded with a firm smile.

  “And our spears will protect our king,” Cory said proudly.

  Alfred shrugged, glancing at Loranna. She tried to avoid his look but couldn't help sneaking a look and a smile.

  “We will train and prepare for the giant swings of ogres,” Alfred said.

  “How will you do that?” asked Cory.

  “Leave it to me!” chimed Alfred.

  And so the days in the Underworld were busy indeed. Alfred had them training long hours, with many trips to Broggia, Boggin and the gnome smiths. They had many things to design and craft in anticipation of the battle to come. For the smiths, it was an incredible joy to work with steel, making amazing weapons, defenses and armour for use against the vilest of enemies.

  Many gnomes were also mining the ores, going to and fro from many areas. Hedor and his men spent minimal time in the mine shafts now. They had Kurik and his men do work as penance. One tried to escape, but Kurik caught him and turned him in. Eventually, the escapee begged for forgiveness, and then, under Kurik's watchful eye, did every hard-labor bidding of Hedor and his men.

  Kurik and his men-at-arms could not complain. They worked only eight hours and were fed just as well as any. Hedor was against only eight hours, but Alfred remembered the eight-hour shift from his world and commanded it so. It was strange, everyone there knew slaves were to be slaved until they collapsed. Alfred couldn't believe it, looking wide-eyed crazy at Hedor and Dunther for a moment. They then stepped back fearing some spell or just a yell.

  Unexpectedly Hedor and Dunther were amazied when Kurik and his men had time to rest, after a good meal and some sad ancient songs, that they began to help around the camp.

  Many gnomes helped, showing them the magic of the stones and the enchantment of picking the ore from the rock. Kurik and his men began to admire the process and laugh along with the busy gnomes, learning to load ore and transport it in the Underworld terrain.

  In doing this hard work, a sense of peace and accomplishment warmed Kurik's heart. He began to like this place and its people.

  The farmer's wives were joyful in feeding everyone. They took special pleasure in feeding the gnomes. Remember, the gnomes had be
en imprisoned far below in their sunless world, and all their food had consisted of decaying mushrooms and blackened fungus. To taste the food of the sun at each meal time was extraordinary for them. They sat close together and examined each biscuit or slice of bread, each bowl of soup or pot of gravy, as if they were treasures from another world. Which they were!

  The girls looked quite different at this time of year. They wore various furs on their hunting trips. Verboden would help by searching the fauna for local animals amidst white plumes of snow lying across the land.

  Loranna and her girls, between extensive training against giant ogres or boys swinging large padded pole-arms, would return with many rabbits, pheasants and deer. Hedor and Ruig and his men labored to carry the girls' successful hunts and didn’t complain, especially during meal times.

  The Khanifians, who had been in slavery the longest, were getting stronger but were still fairly weak. They helped in the mushroom area with cooking, cleaning and healing.

  Alfred crept slowly into the scintillating cave, the one with many gems-encrusted rocks. He lifted up his well crafted gnome lantern and watched as the gems sparkled and caught the beams of light, shifting them and making the light dance upward, filling the cavernous room. As he took this in, he thought of the wizard.

  “Tirnalth?”

  “Yes, Alfred,” a small voice answered.

  Alfred jumped, looking around but not seeing Tirnalth. “That was quick!” he said, “…although your voice sounds shrinky? Shrilly?”

  “I left part of me here, ready for your call!” came the reply. “Hold on, the rest of me is coming along now!” What appeared was a tiny version of Tirnalth, but soon he grew in stature and girth and plopped down beside Alfred, seemingly glad to have a break from something.

  “How's your reading coming along, great wizard?”

  “Oh oh, wonderfully, prodigiously – tediously.”

  “We are going to battle soon, perhaps even in winter, against a formidable foe.”

  “Alfred, I must tell you, the Witch is watching. She has her spies focused on this land. You are very vexing to her. She has put forth a magic that I must stay hidden from. I am not yet strong enough to face her. But I am gaining strength and, more importantly, I am remembering my purpose.”