The Halls of the Fallen King

by Tiger Hebert

  “Sounds like we’ve already met,” muttered Theros with a scowl.

  “Having bad dreams are you?” said Duroc with an unsympathetic laugh. “She never had much power over us, but it is amazing what kind of hold fear and guilt can place upon you, if you meditate on them...”

  Theros thought about all the dreams he had been having and the many sleepless nights that resulted from them. True, the dreams had started before he got here, but there is no doubt that they increased in their frequency and in their—darkness.

  “What brought her here?”

  “The same thing that brought the council and the same thing that draws the goblins even now—power. Specifically, the stones’ power. She sought them ages ago, but I was able to imprison her with a simple binding spell, similar to the one that has me trapped here.”

  “Then how did she get one of the stones?”

  “After my imprisonment, she wrestled away the control of the mahlzur. They brought it to her.”

  “Great,” sighed Theros. “How do we defeat her?”

  “There is but one way...” said Duroc.

  “So what is this one way?” asked Theros, his frown deepening.

  “Fire... lots and lots of fire,” answered the king with a smile.

  “But you said we needed the fourth stone to free you. How are you going to help us, if you’re not yet free?” asked the orc.

  The dwarf answered, “Ah, it’s about time you asked. You can’t just unbind a spirit and let it lose; it will be swept away into the afterlife and the party’s over. You must bind it to something. Since we can’t rejoin my spirit to my body yet, we must first unbind it from this infernal gate, then we can anchor me to one of the stones.”

  Theros thought through the possibilities—and ramifications—for a moment. “So, you’re suggesting that we use two stones to unbind your spirit, releasing you from the gate, only to bind you to the axe?”

  “Well, the stone in the axe, technically,” corrected the king.

  “So you are trading one prison for another?” asked Theros as he stood there with his brow creased and his arms folded.

  “Yes, and you’re missing the point! By anchoring myself to the stone in that axe, I am mobile. I can go with you guys, and,” said Duroc as he paused for dramatic effect, “by being anchored to the stone, I’ll have access to enough power to help you defeat that devil of a witch!”

  “How do we know that we can trust you?” asked Theros bluntly.

  Duroc looked him square in the eye and said, “You don’t, Hammerfist. But do you really think that my end game is to do as you’ve suggested and simply swap one prison for another? Balls, if you think that, you’re dumber than old Krom Krom. I want to be free, dammit!”

  A fierce fire raged in those ghostly eyes, and the king was unwavering in his defiant stance with his own arms crossed. Theros observed the fiery little man. He didn’t quite know what to think of this ghost-mage-king, but he couldn’t help but like his attitude. A smile cracked the orc’s stone face and he nodded, more out of amusement than out of any form of agreement. Then he turned and walked away. The king muttered under his breath, but it didn’t matter. Theros had heard enough.

  Theros rejoined his friends to find that Kiriana had awoken from her short nap, and she was sitting up chatting and laughing with Sharka and Nal’drin. His smile returned. He sure was doing that a lot lately, he thought.

  “So what did you two talk about?” asked Nal’drin when he eyed the big orc.

  “We talked about how his prison works, and what it takes to free him. He needs four stones to be completely freed from his state. We also talked about the third and final guardian. He said that without his help, we have no hope of defeating her.”

  “How is he supposed to help us if he is still imprisoned?” asked Nal’drin.

  “I’ll spare you the details, but he said he could unbind himself from the altar, and rebind himself to this,” said Theros as he lifted the massive axe into the air, his eyes naturally gravitating toward the barely noticeable green glow in the dragon’s eyes.

  “Why the axe?” asked Nal’drin.

  “Because, there’s an Elder Stone in it.”

  “What? So we already have three of the four?” asked Kiriana.

  “Apparently,” answered Theros.

  “What is the risk of binding him to the axe?” asked Sharka.

  “Well, if he tries to betray us, we destroy the axe,” said Theros matter-of-factly.

  “And if you can’t?” asked Sharka.

  “Then we throw it in a deep, dark hole, for all I care. The point is he will be chained to it. If he tries to betray us, we abandon him,” said Theros, his tone unchanging.

  “So what do we do now?” asked Kiriana.

  “That depends. How are you feeling?” asked Theros.

  She looked at the large topaz that sat in front of her. It only carried the subtlest hint of yellow light. Then she looked up at Theros and said, “I’m okay. I didn’t have time to retrieve any of my quarrels yet, though. I’ll need to grab them, because my supplies are starting to run low.”

  “How many do you have left?” asked Theros.

  “I only have three canisters left, thirty six quarrels,” she said. “But even if I retrieve all the ones from the other room, I’m still at less than fifty.”

  “Then I’m glad you’re good with the blade,” said Theros. “Because I don’t think our fighting is anywhere close to being over yet.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Nal’drin.

  “Goblins,” interjected Sharka.

  “Precisely. It has been quiet for far too long. The goblins are coming, and I think the days of them coming in a single swarm are about to be over with, and I don’t think we are done with the mahlzur either.”

  “So what are you proposing we do?” asked Kiriana.

  “We leave Dom here to rest, we take the king with us and hope we can kill off this last guardian, hopefully with enough time to get back here before the goblins show up,” said Theros.

  “You think this is our best course of action?” asked Sharka, her eyes wary, but yearning to trust.

  “I think it is our only course of action. If the Goblin King invades this place, we may not stand a chance even with Duroc’s help, but we’ve got to try,” said Theros, and then his sorrowful eyes fell onto his friend Dominar. “Besides, if Dom doesn’t wake soon, Duroc will need to be freed to wake him.”

  No one said a word. They all just nodded their heads in somber agreement. It was settled. It was time to free the fallen king.

  19

  A Titanic Risk

  Chancellor Hramen assures me that I will learn the art of healing, but he insists that I must first learn the nature of the Qarii and how to control it. He says then I will be able to protect my people. At first I was doubtful, but I have seen his power at work here in the sanctum. It is marvelous. If I can harness even a sliver of his power, my people will be saved.

  When I first set out to discover the Qarii, I had no idea what I might find. I sought the power to combat the sickness that ravages my people. I have found it. Chancellor Hramen has taught me how to mend flesh and bone, but he is unrelenting in his teachings. I argued that I needed to return to my people, bringing healing. He keeps preaching patience. I will stay on just a bit longer, I think.

  Despite my desire to leave, my eyes continue to be opened. I see things that have remained hidden from the eyes of lesser mortals. The mysteries of the Qarim are unfolding before me. This book speaks of greater knowledge than even it contains, and I must have it. I thirst for—knowledge. I must read more.

  I am only just scratching the surface, but there is power in this knowledge. Not figurative, egotistical ideologies about destiny, identity, and influence, but literal, tangible power. It is the Qarii, or the essence of magic, the essence of power. I can feel it tingling as it crawls across my skin. Thousands of tiny fingers of this unseen force arouse my senses, my hunger for more knowledge�
��more power.

  From the personal journal of Duroc Stonebrow

  THEROS STOOD BEFORE the ghost king with his arms upheld, a massive Elder Stone in each palm. “So where do we put these things?”

  Duroc’s ghostly form wheeled about and his eyes grew wide when they found the stones. “Oh yes, just place them in any of the open cradles,” he said with a gesture toward the large archway behind him.

  Theros walked up to the tall structure. It was an interesting design. It boasted five concentric arches, in a staggered fashion, giving it the appearance of having five layers or steps going out from the center. At the apex of each arch sat a cradle of polished steel. Theros reached up and placed the topaz in the innermost cradle, and then he set the amethyst into the cradle on the next arch. Then he turned to look at Duroc.

  “Now we’ll need the axe too,” said Duroc. Then he realized that Nal’drin was already carrying it over. “Oh, very good. Just set it down somewhere close. There, good lad.”

  Duroc gestured for Theros and Nal’drin to move away and said, “You won’t want to be too close when this happens.”

  Theros and Nal’drin eyed the king as they backed up a half dozen paces, but Duroc didn’t have the most reassuring look on his face, so they stepped back another several paces. Duroc nodded in approval. Then the dwarf king turned so he could face all three gems. He extended his right hand toward the great axe and then he extended his left hand toward the stones that sat upon the arches, and he began to utter his evocation. The ritual had begun.

  As the words flew forth from his incorporeal lips the swirling mist-like essence of his sorcery began to coalesce. Various shades of purples seemed to swirl about lazily as it stretched outward from his extended hands. The lavender mist stretched until it touched the three different stones. The king continued to speak the long forgotten words, and the magics that flowed out of him shifted from the lighter shades of purple into a darker shade with streaking cords of indigo and violet. The energy pulsed from Duroc and the stones began to glow. The face of the axe’s iron dragon illuminated with a brilliant green light as the emerald inside coursed with power. In similar fashion, the once-white archways took on shades of yellow and purple.

  Kiriana moved closer to get a better look at the king’s sorcery. Theros and Nal’drin thought it wise to step a bit further away. The king’s voice strengthened as he poured himself into his evocation. His voice and the symphony of the magic were a rising crescendo, and then it happened. The echoing sound was like the shattering of a thousand windows. The magic stopped pouring from Duroc’s left hand, and the gems upon the arches darkened to a dim glow. He turned his gaze to the glowing axe, he nodded in approval, then he ended the ritual. The magic stopped. He had fallen silent and his hands now rested at his sides.

  “Did it work?” asked Theros.

  “Did it work? Of course it worked!” He shot Theros a sharp, indignant glare.

  Nal’drin then asked, “Well, how do you know?”

  Duroc said, “Well... I just.. I just know.”

  “Well, how do we know?” asked Nal’drin.

  “Because, my boy, when you leave here now, I’m going to be following you,” answered the king, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  Theros walked past the king and retrieved the Elder Stones that he had placed upon the arches. He tucked them back into his leather satchel. Then he turned back to the others and said, “We should be off now, but first, Duroc can you provide any protection to Dom while we are gone.”

  Duroc thought for a second, then nodded. He stretched his right hand toward Dom and said, “Matori bhat.”

  A pale cloud slowly settled down over the sleeping dwarf until it covered his entire body.

  Duroc looked to Theros. “It won’t last forever. Quickly!”

  The group of Kiriana, Sharka, Nal’drin, Theros, and Duroc departed the king’s sanctum. They left their unconscious friend to his rest. The crew made a quick detour so Kiriana could recover some of the bolts she had spent in the battle with Reluk. Once she had collected the ones that were in good enough condition to re-use, they made their way to Krithaliel.

  The passage leading to the third and final guardian was a long, straight passage that seemed to sink them even deeper into the earth. As they descended, they began to hear droplets of water plunking into some unseen pool. Tiny rivulets of water streamed their way through the cracks and crevices of the stonework here and there. Then the ghost king, who walked at Theros’ side, broke the silence.

  “Krithaliel will know we are coming. She is cunning, but she is not all-knowing. She will not realize that I have the ability to reach beyond the spectral plane. We must use this to our advantage,” said Duroc.

  Theros scratched at the stubble on his face and asked, “How do you propose we do that?”

  “She will assume that I am harmless, we will play on that. You will engage her as a team, working to keep her focused on the four of you. In this state, I am still weak, but this should allow me enough time to draw power from the stone to conjure the fire,” said Duroc.

  “What is the best way to engage her?” asked Theros.

  “From a distance. Her tentacles are only a few yards long, but they have tiny barbs on them. One prick from those barbs and you’ll be paralyzed and in her grasp,” warned Duroc.

  “Ughh, if you hadn’t noticed, we’ve got swords and an axe,” said Nal’drin with a dramatic sigh and a roll of his eyes.

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “But seriously, how the hell do you propose we fight her?” demanded Nal’drin, his humor gone.

  Duroc spun his transparent figure around on Nal’drin and he barked, “Listen, just get her out of the damn water and don’t let her touch you. Got it?”

  Nal’drin scowled at the king and fidgeted with something in his pocket, but he said nothing.

  “Got it?” demanded Duroc, unsatisfied with the young king’s silence.

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” replied Nal’drin. “You’d better not get us killed, or I’ll haunt your ghost ass.”

  Theros coughed as he tried to suppress a laugh. The thought of a ghost haunting a ghost amused him to no end. Duroc shot Theros a look that suggested he didn’t appreciate the laughter, which only made the orc laugh more as he walked down the tunnel.

  The sounds of splashing water became louder as they reached the end of the tunnel. The chamber was quite dark except for the crystal pendants that they carried. Strangely, this room was devoid of crystals otherwise. What they did find, though, as their pale light illuminated the cavern, was that they had entered another room like the Pools of Arloss. It did not have a majestic waterfall, instead it boasted a quickly running stream feeding the pools and a rather sizable lake in front of them.

  Theros guessed it must have been at least fifty-some-odd yards across. As he surveyed the place, he realized that the room was more or less egg shaped. They entered the place at the wider end of the room where the pool was, but there was a really large part of the room that stretched quite a way away from the water’s edge.

  “There,” said Theros as he pointed to their left. “We will draw her out of the water, then we will use this space to retreat. Duroc, how much time will you need?”

  Duroc nodded his head as he made a silent calculation, then he said, “Twenty to thirty heartbeats.”

  Theros processed the information as he surveyed their battlefield. Then he explained the plan.

  “Kiriana, Nal’drin will need to borrow one of your crossbows. Also, is there a way to slow down how many rounds it shoots?” he asked.

  “Yes, it can do one, two, or four shots,” she answered.

  “Good, crank them both down to one. This is just about getting her attention. If we waste our ammunition too fast, we are screwed,” said Theros.

  Kiriana adjusted her repeaters so they would only fire single shots, then she reluctantly handed one over to Nal’drin. “Take good care of her,” she said, her voice sharp with war
ning.

  Nal’drin gave her a sheepish smile and took the hand carved weapon with two hands. Then he proceeded to nearly drop it. A ruse of course, one that triggered a glare and a jab to the shoulder.

  “Ow,” muttered Nal’drin as he rubbed his shoulder.

  Theros paid no mind to him, instead he began pointing to various locations in the cavern. “Nal’drin, I want you over there. Kiriana, you’re back there, and Sharka, you’ll be over there. I’ll draw the creature out myself.”

  Everyone nodded and they moved into position. Nal’drin took the spot on the opposite wall, closest to the water. Kiriana found herself in the distant corner, the furthest away from the water. Sharka was on the near wall, about halfway between the two.

  “When I draw her out, Nal’drin, do what you can to get her attention. Once she gets close, retreat to Kiriana. Sharka, you’re next. Throw your knives, then retreat,” said Theros.

  “You’re forgetting one tiny detail,” said Duroc.

  Theros turned to him and said, “What is that?”

  “The axe. It’s my prison. My bonds will drag me with it,” explained the king.

  Theros looked at the masterfully crafted axe for a moment. He nodded in agreement and he propped it against the wall, then he reached for the twin hammers that hung from his belt. They were gone. He had forgotten, he had stopped carrying them. The orc began to panic.

  Sharka called his name, but he couldn’t focus. Then the dwarf king began to yell.

  “We’re outta time, she comes!”

  Theros spun back toward the pool where water began to ripple and swell. Hundreds of air bubbles surged to the surface as the slick dark figure of Krithaliel began to emerge. The demoness’ angular head was covered with a patch of silver eyes on either side. Her long narrow face curved downward like a strange beak. As she rose further and further out of the water, the writhing snakes’ nest of tentacles thrashed about, splashing water every which way.