The Halls of the Fallen King

by Tiger Hebert

  “I’m not crying!”

  Nal’drin wrestled to maintain his hug on Theros. “It’s okay to be vulnerable. Don’t fight it!”

  Theros started to push Nal’drin away. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “There’s healing here! Dammit, why are you so strong?” shouted Nal’drin as he strained to hold onto his friend.

  Theros pushed the young man away with one arm. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  Nal’drin flung his hands up in the air. “Fine, tough guy, just remember that I was here for you when you needed me.”

  Theros grunted. The young king offered up an exaggerated bow, and left the room.

  Theros shook his head. You’re a pain in the ass too, Nal’drin. And one day I’ll miss you, too. Theros picked up the book, and cracked it open once more.

  “Where was I... Oh, hues of power.” Theros started to reread the last passage.

  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.

  “Keepers of the Storm...” said Theros. “I’ve heard this before, but where?”

  The Keepers are classified based on which one of the seven blessings they have been granted. The Keepers of the Tides can develop an ability to manipulate water. Keepers of the Flame can manipulate fire. Keepers of the Earth have the ability to manipulate earth itself, rock and stone and sand. Keepers of the Wild can manipulate the things of nature that have their own life force, so plants and animals. Keepers of the Storm can—

  “Theros, here’s—”

  “Dammit! Can’t you see I’m reading,” snapped the orc before looking up.

  Then he saw Kiriana standing there wide-eyed, holding a bowl of food.

  “Oh, okay,” she said. Her lips drew tight and her expression hardened. Then she said, “Get your own damn food,” before turning and walking out of the room.

  “I’m... I’m... sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  A familiar voice chimed in from behind him. “That temper is getting the best of you.”

  Theros turned around to see Dom reclining in a chair in the far corner.

  “When did you get in here?”

  “Right after you first cracked that book open. Now about that temper...”

  “I’m fine, Dom—”

  “No, you’re not,” cut in Dom.

  Theros snapped. “You don’t understand! Things are not right down here. There are dangerous things down here. Duroc, who continues to try and convince me that he is our ally, might be the worst, but for some reason I have a sickening feeling that we have no clue what we are up against. And something crazy and unexpected is happening, and it’s happening to me... and I don’t know how to control it. How can I protect you, if I can’t control it!”

  Dom nodded, then after taking a deep breath he said, “Ah, I see now.”

  “You see what?”

  “Theros, it’s not your job to protect us. You can’t.”

  “I know I can’t,” growled Theros, as tears filled his eyes.

  Dominar came and sat next to his friend. “Theros. Friend. Only the Almighty can protect any of us. Sometimes he uses us to do that for others, but the truth of the matter is, we live in a broken world. A world where men and women lust after power and every other self-satisfying desire. It’s a world where people can, and will, be hurt. Gretchen and my girls will experience pain and heartache in this life, and as much as I wish I could shelter them from that, I can’t. I can only hope to be there to wipe away the tears when they come.”

  Theros sat there in silence for a moment as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Dom, if I’ve been given some kind of gift or ability, I need to understand how it works, so I can use it.”

  “This book is a boon to us. I think we were meant to find it, and it’s curious that Duroc helped us locate it. But friend, you’re going to need to learn to let go of this burden. It’s too big, even for you.”

  Theros wiped the last of his tears away. “How?”

  “Trust.”

  “Trust?” replied Theros.

  “Aye,” said Dominar before getting up and walking away. He paused. “And Theros...”

  “Yes?”

  “You need to apologize to Kiriana.”

  “I know.”

  As Theros sat in the quiet, empty room, time began to slip by. Twenty minutes had passed and he still stared down at the lines in the palms of his massive hands. They held no secrets, no clues, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to look away. His mind wasn’t on the lines though, or his hands. No, his mind lingered on a single word, a word that seemed to come up a lot lately. Trust.

  These Blessings were called an invitation to trust. He was supposed to trust that Duroc wouldn’t betray them. He was supposed to trust that Ogron was in a better place. He was supposed to trust that the people around him would stop dying, and he was supposed to trust that the God he had watched die was still alive.

  Theros looked upward and said, “If you can hear me, I could use some help. You’re telling me to trust you, but I need to know what to do!”

  He heard no reply. He lifted his hands in the air as frustration and anger welled up inside of him. He wanted to roar. He took in a deep breath. Theros sighed and slumped down defeated.

  “I can’t do this. I need to find answers.”

  Theros picked the book back up and started reading again.

  Keepers of the Storm can manipulate the forces of nature, lightning and even storms themselves. Keepers of the Shadows and Keepers of the Light are a bit different from the rest. Instead of manipulating the world’s natural elements, they are able to manipulate other things. This, and the specifics of each of the Keepers, will be discussed in greater depth later.

  What is important to understand is that each person who receives the blessing of Ynu is granted one of the seven specific blessings. Despite this limitation, the most skilled Keepers can find incredible ways to bring their powers together into coordinated uses. This may seem hard to fathom, because initially these powers seem wild and uncontrollable at best, but much like training in any martial form or with any weapon, it is a skill that can be honed like a deadly blade. However those early days, weeks, or months can be an exciting yet miserably confounding period of time. The one thing that each of us inevitably asks is how do you train something that seems to come and go when it pleases. To that I can offer no simple or clear answer. I can offer but two words: patience and trust. I realize those are insufferable words to offer, but they hold true nonetheless.

  Theros shook his head, “Dammit.”

  14

  Bedlam

  Raiza’kin was the mastermind behind the attempted coup, but he did not work alone. Karoth’del, Lenarr, and Tasiduul all helped plan out the attack. Raiza’kin, in a repentant guise, called for a private meeting with Akiroth, the leader of our order. Karoth’del, Lenarr, and Tasiduul laid in wait for him. Akiroth, Champion of the Ancient One, bearer of the Brightblade Tursai, was no fool. He knew corruption had overtaken them. He recited the Oath of the Seraphim, drawing us all to him. We were summoned in time to witness their treason.

  Akiroth pleaded with them, but they rejected reason, and rallied other brothers and sisters to their cause. That day, our family was torn apart as brothers and sisters found themselves on opposite sides of the line that had been drawn. The battle for the heavens began amongst my kin.

  The four and their legion were able to wrestle the stone away from their brother, but Akiroth was wiser than them all. He understood something his wicked brothers and sisters didn’t. He understood that true power was not something that could be channeled through a stone, but rather that which emanated from the Ancient One. So he called down the power of the Almighty and unleashed it upon his adversaries. The overwhelming blast of righteous fury expelled them from Heaven. The gems o
f power slipped from their grasp and tore through the barrier between the spirit realm and the mortal realm. The Elder Stones were scattered across Aurion as they entered the mortal sphere.

  Raiza’kin and his followers were sent crashing into the lower dimensions, where some of them still dwell. The war did not end with their eviction. Even to this day, that battle rages on just beyond the mortal realm. This nearly eternal conflict between the Seraphim and the fallen ones has since come to be known as the Everwar.

  War in the Heavens, Jazren of the Seraphim Order

  THUNDER ECHOED UNDER the mountain, and the earth shook. Windows rattled and books started to shift upon the shelves and tables. The earth shook again.

  “Away from the bookshelves,” ordered Sharka with a wave.

  The five scrambled to the far end of the library as the earth shuddered violently.

  “You come... out!” bellowed a voice that sounded like rock grinding upon rock.

  “What in the seven hells was that?” said Kiriana with a shiver.

  “Oi don’t thinks so, big boy,” replied an unexpected voice.

  “Yes! You come now!” snapped the hard and demanding voice.

  “No, no, you big block ‘ead!” replied the small, defiant voice.

  The tremors had stopped for a moment, and the five companions exchanged befuddled glances before they shuffled over to the nearest window. There in the street below, they found a frighteningly large stone giant, his head nearly eye level with their third floor location. His massive body was a pale gray granite with swirls of red and brown. Pyrite and quartz birthmarks dotted his hide. He stood with his back to them, as he stared towards the two-story building on the opposite side of the street.

  “My kingdom! You come now!” raged the stone giant.

  “No!” was the response from the unseen trespasser.

  “You no come. Krom Krom crush you!” said the giant with a growl.

  The trespasser’s response was non-verbal—and loud. A projectile rocketed out from the window of one of the upper rooms. The speeding stone slapped hard against the giant’s skull. It plinked away, clattering against the street’s carved stone. The giant was slow to respond. His delayed response lacked no fury though.

  The earthen giant who called himself Krom Krom roared, and he was pelted with a smattering of stones. As he pulled his arm back in a greatly exaggerated wind-up, the giant twisted back toward the library where the group hid. They saw his face for the first time. Deep purple light poured out of those massive cavernous eyes. It was almost enough to distract them from the giant elbow that swung towards them.

  “Get down!” hollered Theros as he pushed his companions down behind a large bookcase.

  Krom Krom’s elbow was a wrecking ball. It crashed through the corner of the library’s third floor. A large portion of the adjoining walls and roof were smashed open. Stone, mortar, wood, and paper tumbled through the swirling clouds of dust. Had they been able to see anything, they would have witnessed the full delivery of the giant’s fury, and not just the precursor. A flurry of screams erupted from the two-story building in front of him.

  Krom Krom’s marbled fist surged toward his target, rending stone and mortar useless against his ire. The downward strike smashed through the second story wall, the floor, and the wall of the first story. The explosion of stone was deafening. Stone blocks flew through the air. Some were large, tumbling free, others were reduced to tiny bits of rubble. Chalky mortar dust swirled every which way and in that haze, goblins began to tumble from the collapsing building. Dozens of them now poured into the street.

  Nal’drin helped his friends back to their feet, while the long-limbed, pot-bellied goblins surrounded the stone giant in the street below. The five tried to remain hidden as they moved to get a better view of the battle commencing before them.

  “Goblins, I hate goblins. I’ma help him,” Theros said with a growl.

  “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need your help, big guy,” noted Nal’drin as he examined the giant’s handiwork. “Besides, what makes you think he’s on our side?”

  “Because he’s killing goblins,” was Theros’ simplistic response.

  “Yeah, but whose side should we be on?” asked Nal’drin.

  Theros shot him a dark look and said, “Never trust goblins.”

  “I make it a habit of never trusting anything that can kill me,” said Nal’drin agreeably. “But which one of these two do you suppose is more capable in that regard?”

  “He makes a good point,” interjected Dom.

  “So you’re saying that we—”

  Nal’drin interrupted, “I’m saying we let this play out a little.”

  Theros frowned, but the others all nodded in agreement, so he turned to watch the battle below and sat tight.

  Krom Krom’s stone fist crashed down against the street’s stone pavers. Dust and rubble were left in the wake, but no goblins. Despite their strange, gangly form, the creatures moved with certain quickness. The giant roared in frustration. The swarm of goblins worked frenetically to get ropes around the notched boulder that most closely represented the giant’s skull.

  “This my kingdom!” the giant repeated.

  Krom Krom flailed about as he tried to crush the trespassers. An unfortunate goblin was obliterated by the giant’s backhand. The green remains of the goblin splattered against a nearby wall, but more ropes were tossed around Krom Krom’s neck. Then one of the goblins whistled. The shrill sound was a signal.

  Three crag trolls emerged from a nearby alleyway, each with a large iron mallet. They were the smallest breed of trolls, and they were still at least the size of Theros. Their rugged, reddish hides were fully exposed and covered with marks, both brands and scars. These trolls were slaves.

  Theros cursed.

  “I hope you have some of that blue stuff saved up,” said Nal’drin without taking his eyes off the battle.

  Me too, thought Theros. Me too.

  Krom Krom fought against the goblins and the ropes, but the onslaught of the trolls would be too much. They charged him head on, swinging their hammers wildly. In a surprisingly coordinated maneuver, the goblins grouped up behind the stone monster and pulled. The ropes grew tighter as the giant fought against their effort while being battered by the trolls’ iron mallets. He grasped at the ropes that wrapped around his neck, but he couldn’t get them between his large blocky fingers.

  Theros stood up from his hiding place, both hammers clutched in his grasp. Quietly he said, “For honor—”

  Sharka rose and said, “and glory!”

  Theros raced down the stairs with Sharka right on his heels.

  “You fools,” yelled Nal’drin before darting after them.

  Kiriana did not follow instead she pulled her crossbows from their holsters and quickly attached the loaded cartridges. She spun each cartridge as much for luck as for dramatic effect, then lowered her sights upon the figures below.

  Once Theros reached the first floor he crashed through the front doors and let loose the war cry of his people, “Ker ut Kraw!”

  His friends charged out the doors behind him, following his lead into battle. Kiriana paved the way for them, as she loosed a barrage of artillery upon the unsuspecting goblins. The steel tipped quarrels ripped through the green flesh of their backs and they screamed in pain. Sharka and Nal’drin set upon them, but Theros dashed right past them. He was going for the trolls.

  Kiriana saw this, so she quickly shifted her focus to the trolls. She pulled the triggers again. The second salvo of bolts zipped through the air as they descended upon their target. The first troll stopped in his tracks. His furious attack halted. His expression became a twisted look of pained confusion. The creature looked about as its slow mind tried to figure out what had just happened. Then the crag troll collapsed. His marred red corpse, riddled with bolts, lay quietly on the blood-soaked ground.

  Theros leapt over the fallen body and swung his right hammer down on the first of the two remain
ing trolls. The troll turned just in time to absorb the blow on his left arm and not his chest. The cold iron slammed into hardened muscle and bone. The bones cracked under the force of the blow and the troll wailed. The troll dropped its hammer and retaliated with a clawed hand.

  The troll’s jagged nails tore through leather and raked his flesh. Theros arched his back and gasped. The troll rocked him with a powerful kick that sent him to the ground. Theros struggled to breathe. The wind had been knocked out of him. The troll lifted its mallet off the ground with its one good arm and then the beast howled over his kill.

  “I don’t think so,” whispered Kiriana and she pulled the triggers a third time.

  The torchlight glinted off the metals of the quarrels as they descended. Three of them lodged in the back of the crag troll’s mouth with two more driven into the creature’s face. The troll’s howl was abruptly cut off as it choked on blood and bolts. The monster teetered and fell forward onto Theros.

  Sharka tumbled out of the way of Krom Krom’s flailing arm. Stone chips leapt up and bit her on the cheek. A trickle of blood began forming. She winced and resumed her attack. Her carved bone daggers slashed at the nearest goblin. She missed, giving her enemy an opening. The swipe of the goblin’s club struck her in the small of the back. A second goblin sent her to the ground with a hard kick. Sharka landed face down, and the goblins pounced.

  The tip of Nal’drin’s family sword raced around in a wide arc. The young king’s sweeping attack severed the head of the first goblin before he ever reached Sharka. The second goblin reached its target. Nal’drin knew he couldn’t use his large blade on the goblin, the risk of injury to Sharka was too great, so he dropped his sword and attacked.

  With his hammer in hand, Dominar ran past both of them cutting off the goblin advance. Nal’drin pummeled the goblin, but it refused to release the orc woman. She struggled to break free, but the combined weight of the creature and the strength of its spindly fingers was just too much.

  “Get it off me!” she barked.

  “I’m trying,” grunted Nal’drin as he repeatedly slammed his fist into the side of the goblin’s head.