The Halls of the Fallen King

by Tiger Hebert

The others, not being familiar with coffee, all exchanged glances and shrugs. Kiriana moved over to the gate and sniffed.

  “Woah, that’s strong,” she said, her eyes growing wide, “... and good!”

  “Let me smell,” said Nal’drin as he came close enough to brush against her shoulder. “Oh man!”

  “It can’t possibly smell that good,” grumbled Dominar with a skeptic’s glare.

  “It is heavenly,” added Kiriana as she took another deep breath.

  Dominar mumbled something under his breath that most likely matched the sour, unbelieving expression on his face. He stalked over to the wooden door where the others stood and sniffed. Nal’drin and Kiriana took another whiff before parting to make room for the dwarf. Unlike the others, Dom leaned closer to the exposed wood but remained several inches away. He relaxed and closed his eyes. Then with his eyes closed, he raised one hand up to the exposed karabusa wood, and he began to waft the aroma toward his nose.

  “What are you doing?” asked Nal’drin with a chuckle.

  “Hush!” he said as he continued wafting. “This... coffee, they are beans you eat?”

  “No,” laughed Sharka. “They are used to make a drink, like tea, but different.”

  “Hmm, I’d imagine it’d go well with some eggs and a slab of bacon,” admitted Dominar.

  “I wouldn’t even drink it. I’d just let it sit so I could smell it,” mused Kiriana.

  Theros’ smile started to fade. It was good to see his companions enjoying themselves, but he was growing impatient. There were a lot of questions that remained unanswered and they still had no idea of the full extent of the dangers that surrounded them. Not to mention that he still hadn’t gotten his hands on the book yet. I need that book, he thought.

  “Okay, okay, it’s time to move. Let’s find this library,” he said in his soft but commanding tone. It wasn’t harsh or aggressive, but it left no room for debate.

  The team did not hesitate. They heard the urgency in his voice. Dom, Sharka, Nal’drin, and Kiriana all shifted their focus back to the impressive city that loomed before them. Though it was largely unnecessary in the blue light, Nal’drin took one of the torches and began to lead the way. As the four moved into the city, Theros paused for a moment and leaned close to the gate, then he took a whiff.

  Woah, they weren’t kidding, he thought as a toothy smile crossed his lips.

  The city was indeed large, but it wasn’t exactly sprawling. Instead, the surprising amount of multi-level buildings left it quite concentrated. That made finding their destination a lot easier, well, that and that the fact the well detailed way-stones littered the city streets. Unfortunately rubble and debris also littered the streets of the war-torn city. Chunks of stone, big and small, lay scattered here and there.

  “The city library should be just another block away,” said Dom.

  “Dom, do you thin...”

  “Guys, look at this!” Nal’drin waved his friends over, as he stood over a large figure.

  The others hurried over to crowd around him. They looked down and examined the stone figure.

  “It’s a dwarf statue, what’s the big deal?” asked Kiriana.

  Nal’drin looked up to her and said, “Yeah, but so are all of those.” Then he pointed up ahead to where the street split.

  The other four looked to where he pointed. Up ahead beyond the split, the street was absolutely littered with large heaps of stone, which they could only guess were dwarven statues like the one at their feet.

  “What the hell...” said Kiriana as her jaw fell open.

  “Duroc called them his children.”

  The group turned toward Theros.

  The orc put his hands up in the air before they could protest. “Listen, all I know is what he told me. These were constructs that served him. He said these things fought to protect them, and that they were destroyed by the council.”

  Dominar looked at Theros, and for the first time the orc saw fear in his friend’s eyes.

  “Theros... we are treading upon things we know so very little of.”

  “Then we tread lightly.”

  Dom took a deep breath. “That’s not what I mean. We are dealing with things far beyond us...”

  “I know, Dom,” interrupted Theros.

  “...but not beyond you,” finished Dominar. “We need to find you that book!”

  THE FIVE COMPANIONS reached the library. Unlike all the other buildings in the city, this beauty had a completely foreign look. Gone were the intricately carved blocks that gave everything in the city that distinctively dwarven appearance. The building almost looked like a large, rounded bell tower, with openings at the top revealing a large, perfectly round crystal suspended below the roof, like a giant glowing pendant. Everything, from the massive port-hole like doors and windows, to the large crystal, the conical roof, the ceramic tiles that covered the building’s exterior from top to bottom shared one thing in common; they were all circular. There wasn’t a single hint of square or rectangular construction in sight. Even the path that lead to the entrance had replaced steps with a large crescent ramp that stretched down toward them.

  “It’s so different,” said Kiriana.

  “And beautiful,” added Sharka.

  As they drew close enough to ascend the sweeping ramp, their torchlight played across the smooth surface revealing a dark granite with rich blue veins running throughout.

  Dominar gasped. “Stunning!”

  “Why is it so unlike everything else, though?” asked Kiriana as they made their way up the short ramp.

  The torchlight danced its way across the stone and began to climb up the tower walls, revealing the beautiful iridescent hues of the ceramic tiles that covered the tower in a spiraling pattern that swept upward.

  “Has anyone seen anything like it?” asked Nal’drin, to which came no reply.

  They stood there for a moment and took in the beauty.

  Sharka said, “This place never ceases to amaze me. Dom, the place that your kin created down here is unbelievable.”

  “Aye.” Dominar beamed, his proud grin nearly stretching from ear to ear.

  “Hey, Dom, what’ does this say?” said Nal’drin as he pointed to an engraved stone placard set off to the left of the main entrance.

  The placard had some large engravings, with a collection of much smaller runes etched below.

  “Can’t quite see it, lemme get a closer look.”

  Theros stepped aside to let Dom through. “When we get back, I’m buying you some spectacles.”

  “A year ago I might’ve argued, but I won’t fight you on it anymore.”

  “First time for everything...” muttered the orc.

  Dom crossed his arms and frowned. “Hey now! I am most agreeable amongst dwarves.”

  “Yes, amongst dwarves,” replied Theros while cracking a smile.

  “Anyway... it reads The Lighthouse. The subscript says... in darkness shall we dwell no longer, for knowledge is a beacon of light.”

  “So that explains the architecture,” mused Sharka.

  Nal’drin looked around, clearly confused. “Huh?”

  “Oh, you’ve probably never seen a working one, but most large ports usually have some sort of lighthouse. They are towers that serve as a beacon for ships during dark or stormy conditions. They usually look something like this.”

  “I see,” said Nal’drin with a nod.

  “Ah yes, the Lighthouse was one of my pride-n-joys. What do you think of it, Theros?” whispered Duroc.

  It’s impressive, but I’m curious... it looks kind of dark down here these days. How’s that beacon of light working out for you?

  “No need to be snide, orc.”

  Orc is it? And I thought we were on a first name basis... dwarf.

  “Don’t twist my words. Go find your book, we’ll talk later.”

  What book?

  “Don’t play dumb with me, orc. Third floor.”

  His concentration was broken by the
stab of pain from a quick jab to the chest. He shook his head and looked up. He saw Sharka’s big brown eyes, and they were pissed off.

  “That was for not telling me about Duroc! You’ve been talking to him, and you didn’t tell me. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

  “I... I’m...”

  “You were doing it again, just before I smacked you, weren’t you?” interrupted Sharka.

  Theros’ eyes fell to the ground. “He said the book is on the third floor.”

  The orc woman’s eyes narrowed as the lines of anger melted away. “Duroc wants you to find the book?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Did he...”

  “No, he didn’t explain anything. He just said it’s on the third floor.”

  Sharka tapped a finger on her lips for a moment. “Curious.”

  Theros lifted his eyes up to meet hers. “Listen, I don’t like these unknowns any more than you do.”

  Sharka dropped her finger away and nodded. “Okay, well, let’s remove some of these unknowns, then. Let’s get up to the third floor.”

  Within fifteen minutes the five were digging through dusty tomes in the city library.

  “You do realize that none of us can read dwarven writing, right?” said Nal’drin.

  “Oh, I doubt this book would be translated. I expect that it’d be in the common tongue,” said Dominar.

  “Oh,” said Nal’drin. His attempt to get out of looking for the Keepers of the Flame had failed.

  The team did their best to sort through the dusty library quickly. Fortunately, it was fairly small due to the fact that you just don’t find too many scholars among dwarves.

  Dom said, “Honestly, it’s surprising that they even have a library at all. Most dwarven cities have smithies and taverns, but libraries? Not so much.”

  The team found the book rather quickly. Sharka pulled off of one of the many large piles of books that were heaped upon a long table made of finely polished cedar. Her pale green fingers wiped away the thin layer of dust that covered the leather-bound manuscript, revealing the words Keepers of the Flame.

  “Theros, it’s here!” she said excitedly as she turned toward him.

  He shot her a smile and thanked her as he took the book from her outstretched hand. He ran his fingers over the elegantly embossed lettering set into the book’s beautifully marbled leather cover.

  “What does it say,” asked the ever impatient Nal’drin, knowing that Theros hadn’t even cracked it open yet.

  Kiriana shot him an annoyed look, but Theros just ignored him. Instead the orc pulled up a chair and sat down at the table, opened the book to the first passage, and began to read aloud.

  Keepers of the Flame

  Foreword by Esteban Torazon

  Surely you have heard the tales of gods and men. I, however, come to you with the accounts of the latter nearly becoming the former. Unlike those wistful tales of fanciful imagination that we all enjoy as a means of escaping the mundane reality of this world, these are not mere tales, but true accounts—accounts of the Keepers of the Flame.

  This is not a storybook, but rather a collection of findings from a variety of sources. They range from historical documents to journals and eyewitness accounts. While my earnest endeavor is to fill in all the gaps, it appears that I have undertaken an impossible task. That being said, where the book may appear to be sparse on details in some areas, it is still the most complete material to date on the subject. In my sincerest attempt at bridging those gaps, I have offered my own understandings on the subject. These passages, like all the others, are marked with the proper citations, so as to allow the readers to evaluate the credibility of the source material for themselves.

  For those that have only studied the Keepers of the Flame from an academic standpoint, it is easy to question their true nature. What exactly is their great power and where does it come from? It may come to surprise the scholar in you, but these items were not in question in the days before our present age. Both the giftings and their source were clearly understood. This would be more evident to the academic world today, had so many of the records not been destroyed in various conflicts and wars. Because of that, I will make clear what I can.

  “What does this mean?” Sharka asked.

  “It means I have a lot of reading to do,” said Theros with a grunt as he examined the thick book.

  “Why don’t you get started,” recommended Dom. “We will keep looking to see if there are any other texts that could shed some more light on these Storm Keepers.”

  Nal’drin murmured, but the others simply nodded in agreement. So Nal’drin joined Dom and the girls in the search, while Theros explored the pages of the text.

  The Gift of Ynu

  The Keepers of the Flame, henceforth referred to only as the Keepers, are people who have been given a gift, or a blessing. That blessing comes from Ynu (Yen-ew). Now to avoid any confusion or theological squabbling on the matter, I am to be clear in my next point. Ynu is not an elven God. Rather, Ynu is simply the name of the Ancient One in the elven tongue. Yes, Ynu, Hrathal, Mrivnochik, Vashtir, and in a sense even Frelsarine are all different names and titles, but they all point to the same God, the Ancient One.

  Now before the religious nuts burn me at the stake for heresy, allow me to clarify. This is not to say that all of the gods of the world are one and the same. It is not even to say that all the depictions of the aforementioned names of God are accurate either. What with the penchant man has for altering truths to fit his desires, it is amazing that even some of the names remain. My personal gripes aside, it must be made crystal clear that the source of the blessing is the Maker of all Things, the source is Ynu. I will, henceforth, always refer to the Ancient One by His elvish name, Ynu. Why? Simple, the first ever records of Keepers were elves.

  So what is the blessing? The blessing is a supernatural power that is granted from Ynu.

  Who are the chosen? This question always makes me chuckle a bit. Perhaps I shouldn’t find it so foolish, but I do. The thought that the Maker and Deliverer of all peoples should only pour out a blessing on so few chosen is absurd. Some of my contemporaries suggest that if only people had more faith, more would believe, and that they might then receive such a blessing and power in their lives. However, I believe instead that those who say such nonsense are instead trying to place themselves upon a pedestal as if they actually had anything to do with receiving such divine favor. Poppycock, I say!

  As to who are chosen, it is my belief that when the need is great, the blessings are poured out. I have learned of some cases where a particular person of great faith and devotion had received the blessing, but in great irony, more often than not it was quite the opposite. What I have seen is that it is more frequently used as an invitation to trust.

  -Esteban Torazon

  P.S. It is true that the gifts are indeed blessings of Ynu; it is also true that those who have taken up the calling have been called Keepers, but to presume that all the giftings are the same is to presume too much. This I know with certainty. After all, I am a Keeper too.

  An invitation to trust, mused Theros.

  “Find anything useful in there yet?” asked the always impetuous young king.

  “He just cracked the cover, give him a moment, for heaven’s sake!” said Dominar.

  “It is very interesting, that’s for sure, but the narrative is simply providing the historical context,” said Theros.

  “You know, when you talk like that, I almost forget you’re an orc,” quipped Nal’drin with a smirk.

  Theros shot him a cold, dangerous look then he jerked toward the young king. Nal’drin squeezed his eyes shut as he cringed in anticipation. The roar of the group’s laughter filled the library. Theros smiled, then he turned the page and started to read once more.

  Hues of Power

  As I mentioned before, the name Keepers of the Flame is bandied about a bit too loosely. What history has shown is that there are actually seven. Seven dif
ferent Keepers for the seven different blessings for the seven different types of Elder Stones. The world’s history, or at least that which is made public, rarely provides much information on the heavenly stones. Seven pairs of stones were created in the heavens. The pairs were ruby, sapphire, emerald, amethyst, topaz, onyx, and diamond. All the stones of course share some general properties, which is beyond the scope of this book, but each pair of stones holds a property unique to its color, which we will get to shortly.

  Like the stones, there are also seven blessings and corresponding Keepers. In no particular order, they are the Keepers of the Tides, Keepers of the Flame, Keepers of the Shadows, Keepers of the Earth, Keepers of the Wild, Keepers of the Storm, and the Keepers of the Light.

  “Theros, what was your brother like?”

  The orc lowered the book and looked up to see Nal’drin sitting right beside him. The twenty-something year old kid had the wooden chair spun around backward and he sat with his arms crossed on the top of the chair back.

  Images of his brother flashed through his mind. Theros smiled. “Ogron always saw a silver lining. He was smarter and far, far more patient than I am. He was selfless, and a natural leader. He always tried to teach me how to be diplomatic... That never worked out too well.”

  “He sounds like a great guy,” said Nal’drin.

  “He was a pain in the ass to live with. He always ate the last of the bacon, and he always chewed with his mouth open. He snored, and his breath was awful. He always felt the need to tell me to relax. He always worried about keeping everyone happy. He was too trusting. He saw the best in everyone. He would risk his life for anyone, and now he’s gone. He was a pain in the ass and I miss him more than words can express,” replied Theros as he wiped tears from his eyes.

  Before his hand had left his cheek, Nal’drin had already stood up, come over, and put his arms around him.

  Theros cocked his head to the side, and gave the kid an awkward look.

  Nal’drin squeezed his hug tighter. “It’s okay, big guy. Let it all out. I’m here for you.”

  Theros frowned as he tried to lean back out of the hug. “I’m not crying”

  “Don’t be afraid, big guy, let it out.”