The Halls of the Fallen King

by Tiger Hebert

  As the Darklight’s influence ran its course, the once dwarf like people were now twisted remnants of their former selves, but with powers anew. The ascended Anunaki, now known as the Oathbearers, waged war against the other races, laying waste to all who stood in their way. It was then that the Maker, furious with the path they’d taken, sent his warring angels to do his dirty work.

  When the angelic force recklessly attacked, it tore the Anunaki and the Darklight apart. The entire Anunaki nation was sundered, and left the city of Kinseth to sink into the sea. The Darklight was shattered, his essence broken into billions of Darklight fragments. The Anunaki, or Oathbearers, were gone, but the fragments of the Darklight remained. The Darklight’s essence was once known as the Qarim. After the shattering, those invisible shards of the Darklight’s essence came to be known as the Qarii.

  My intuition was spot on, the Qarii are not just alive, but they are one!

  From the personal journal of Duroc Stonebrow

  DUROC HAD GONE OFF to be by himself on the other side of the sanctum. He needed some time and some space to figure things out, but he wasn’t going to get it. Nal’drin made his way over.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m ready to start. I want to actually learn how to do this, not just learn history and theory.”

  Duroc saw determination in the young man’s eyes and he smiled. “Okay, why?”

  Nal’drin looked away, back over his shoulder toward Kiriana. “I need to be able to protect my friends.”

  “Protect them, or her?” prodded Duroc.

  “Both,” said Nal’drin as he spun his head back to face the sorcerer.

  “But you’re a warrior, with that great big sword and everything,” said Duroc.

  “I’m no warrior,” replied Nal’drin with a huff. “I don’t have skill in battle, and I don’t want to be the one that is responsible for someone getting hurt—or worse.”

  “So, what makes you think that magic is a solution to your problem? Hmmm?” asked Duroc as he crossed his arms.

  “I’ve seen some of what you can do, there is real power in that, and that was before you were—well, before you were yourself again,” said Nal’drin.

  “Oh, so you want to play with fire? You want to make things burn?” asked Duroc, with a laugh.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Duroc’s eyes narrowed. “Then tell me son, are you ready to burn for it?”

  “If it allows me to protect them,” he said with a nod towards the others, “then yes.”

  Duroc smiled and began the lesson, “Good, well, I’ve already taught you that magic is about manipulating the Qarii into becoming an extension of your will. Once you learn to bend the Qarii to your will, there will not be much that is impossible for you. You will be limited by your resources of Qarii and time, which are inexorably linked. You will be limited by your understanding of the language of the Qarii, as you must understand how to direct and command them. And lastly, you will be limited by your ability to withstand pain.”

  “Wait, what?” Nal’drin’s eyes widened.

  “You said you were ready to burn for it,” Duroc reminded him.

  “I didn’t take you literally.”

  “First lesson of the day, boy, always take sorcerers literally,” said Duroc with a smirk.

  “What kind of pain are we talking about?” asked Nal’drin, the concern on his face growing.

  Duroc gave the boy a flat look and he said, “Like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

  Nal’drin gulped.

  Duroc continued. “The Qarii will obey your commands, but there is a price that must be paid for their services.”

  Nal’drin took one more glance over his shoulder. His eyes fell on Kiriana. The lovely redhead was unlike anyone he had ever met. She was bright, educated, and fearless in battle, yet there was so much more to her than that. She could be gentle and soft spoken. Nal’drin shook his head, acknowledging the path he’d chosen.

  “It’s a price I’ll pay.”

  “Very well then, let’s play with some fire,” said Duroc all too casually. Then he pointed to a tall ornamental vase that sat in the nearest corner. “That’ll be your focal point—your target.”

  Nal’drin followed the king’s gesture to the old ceramic decoration. It was old, hand crafted, many would even say it was beautiful, and it was about ready to get smoked.

  “Now, understand a few things. First, set your theology aside. You can believe in whatever god you want, but leave him or her out of this. They can’t help you here. The Qarii does not respond to your faith or your inspiration, it responds only to the combination of a focused mind and spoken authority. If they are not both of one accord, it will not submit to you. For example, if you command the Qarii to surround that vase in wreaths of flames, but you can’t take your mind off Cinnamon Spice over there, then you will fail,” said Duroc as he gave himself an excuse to look at Kiriana.

  Nal’drin stared down the vase with bad intentions. “Okay.”

  “Good,” said Duroc appraisingly. “The command is Krava min tok. Now, when you utter the command, you must utter it as if you fully expect your will to be accomplished. You must put doubt and failure out of your mind. The Qarii is bound to those that know how to master it; you are the master. Go!”

  Nal’drin’s body tensed as if his muscles themselves could conjure up the flames, and his mind echoed the commands over and over again, and then he shouted, “Krava min tok!”

  The young king’s voice shot out of his mouth with the authority of a thunder clap, its echo blasting off the walls. The intertwined sensations of intense heat and pain surged through his arms and into his hands. Nal’drin hollered in pain as the magic tore through his flesh. Hues of bright orange and yellow flashed briefly, and then the tiny puff of flames was gone as quickly as it had emerged. The pain, however, lingered.

  Nal’drin screamed as he crashed to the ground, his knees thudding to the hard stone floor. He doubled over in pain as he clutched at both of his hands. He looked at them and found nothing, no burns, no scars, but the burning pain still haunted his hands. That can’t be right, he thought. There was no way there were no marks.

  By this time his friends began to crowd around them.

  Duroc had a twisted smile. “People say if you play with fire, you’ll get burned—and they are right, but they have no idea. But you know now, don’t you, you know what it feels to burn from the inside out,” said Duroc with a twisted smile.

  “It didn’t even work, why does it hurt so bad?” said Nal’drin with deep groan as the pain finally started to subside.

  “Lesson number two, you failed not the Qarii. Now it was a fine attempt for your first try. You called the Qarii and it responded, therefore a price will be paid,” said Duroc.

  “But it didn’t do what it was supposed to,” said Nal’drin as he finally shook free from the pain.

  “You got the command right, hence the flash of fire, but your combination of will and focus were lacking,” said Duroc.

  “How long does it take to get it right?” asked Nal’drin.

  “At that price... it doesn’t take long at all,” said Duroc with a laugh. “Now focus, and burn it down.”

  Nal’drin gave his mentor a skeptical look, and his frown never faded. Instead he turned his sour gaze upon the distant clay vase. He conjured images in his mind—images of fire. He envisioned flames devouring the vessel, and before he knew it the words flew out of his mouth.

  Krava min tok!

  A stream of curses filled his mouth and fire swirled as it sprang from the palm of his hand. The flaming coil roared as it charged toward its target. The torrent of flames descended upon the vase with fury, shrouding it with a wreath of bright flames. Nal’drin, who had dropped to the floor in pain, watched with awe as the clay vessel was consumed with fire.

  “Hah!” shouted Duroc with excitement. “Well done my boy! Welcome to the family.”

  Nal’drin still sat in a state of disbelief. Had he rea
lly just set something on fire with nothing more than his words? This was crazy, and impossible, and exciting. He shifted his awestruck eyes up to his new mentor, and saw the full-faced grin on Duroc’s face, and he realized that he had really done it. He had used the magics. And even though the same pain that had surged through his body stung him again, it was somehow more bearable when he saw the fruit of his labor.

  Duroc spoke again, “You, my boy, are well on your way to becoming a mage!”

  “Wow, what’s next?” asked Nal’drin eagerly as he wrung out his stinging hands.

  “Not so fast,” said a friendly yet stern voice.

  The two turned and saw Dominar. He had his arms crossed and a disapproving look on his face.

  “Dom, did you see that?” shouted Nal’drin.

  “I did, and it was quite a trick, but I’m not so sure that this is a good idea.”

  “What do you mean? We are stuck down here fighting for our lives at every turn, we can use all the help we can get,” said Nal’drin.

  Dom walked closer and placed a fatherly hand on the young king’s shoulder. “I understand where you’re coming from lad, but not all things are good. I see what the magic did to you there, and there’s nothing in me that thinks it can be good. I think it best to leave it alone son; there are better ways to fight our battles.”

  Nal’drin’s expression darkened and he pulled away from Dom, causing the dwarf’s hand to fall away. Then he responded, his voice seething with anger. “What? Dom, you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. That’s stupid. Everyone’s so damn scared of magic that they refuse to even bother understanding it. Yet everyone seems to forget that it’s magic that has saved our asses so far.”

  “You don’t need to get angry. I just think there is a better way,” said the wide-eyed dwarf.

  Nal’drin snapped back, “What better way? Pray and wait for Aneri’On to show up? My weapon never magically caught on fire and I was never given the speed or strength to single handedly slaughter a whole pack of mutated rats. Yeah, maybe that blessing thing works for you guys, but not me. I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand over your corpse again, because all I have is a sword I barely have the skill to use.”

  Dom wished he had some sort of answer for the young man, but the truth was—he didn’t. Dom didn’t understand how or why Theros had been granted the blessing of Ynu. For that matter he didn’t even understand how he himself had once wielded the blue flame, and he certainly didn’t understand why the power only seemed to come at certain times and not others. It was truly a mystery to him, which would offer no consolation to Nal’drin.

  “I wish I had answers for you. I want the answers too. I only know that Aneri’On is for us, not against us. He has plans to see us to a great end. We need to be patient and have faith,” said Dom.

  Nal’drin’s temper had cooled a bit and he laid his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “That’s just it, Dom, I don’t have time to be patient and I don’t have time for faith. I need something right now that I can count on to keep my friends from dying. By all means keep praying. I think it’s great, I really do, but I am going to focus on the things that are within my power.”

  With that the youth turned away. The conversation was over. Dom was frustrated, but more with himself than with the kid. Dom felt that it was his responsibility to help foster the faith of those he had been given charge over, but it had been a losing battle. No matter what he did or said, he was failing them. With a weight on his conscience and a heavy heart, Dom walked away.

  Nal’drin had returned to resume his lesson with Duroc, but apparently the lesson was over. Duroc had just remembered something, something that was about to be a problem. The old king turned toward his companions and sprinted across the room.

  “We have a problem!” he shouted between breaths.

  “And what’s that?” asked Theros before turning to find a serious look of concern on the king’s face. “Oh, what is it?”

  “I just remembered...” said the king as he panted, “when I created the mahlzur I embedded a spell of return in them. Now that I have returned to the world of the living, they are coming.”

  “You made those things?” said Sharka with disgust.

  “Aye.”

  “You mean we have an army?” asked Nal’drin.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing? They are your creations,” said Nal’drin.

  “I’m afraid not. When they were created, there was a bond, a link between us. However, in my displaced state, those bonds were severed for a time. That’s how Krithaliel wrestled control over some of them. Their need to return is still there, but I fear that the bond is ruined. I can feel some of the clawing at the edge of my mind, and most of them are not responding to me. I fear they’ve gone mad,” said the panic stricken king.

  “So you’re saying that your creations are on their way here now to kill us?” asked Nal’drin.

  Duroc tilted his head to the side and gave a lopsided, sheepish grin, “It’s highly likely.”

  “Damnit!” barked Nal’drin before devolving into a profanity laced tirade.

  “I know, I know,” said Duroc as he shuffled his feet.

  Theros asked, “What should we do?”

  Duroc looked up from his hands and said, “Prepare to fight.”

  “How many of them are there?” asked Kiriana.

  “It’s a small population, but there could be up to four or five hundred,” said Duroc.

  “Four or five hundred? How have we managed to only run into a dozen or so?” asked Sharka.

  “At the moment, I don’t know.”

  Nal’drin interrupted the conversation, by pointing to Glemigk and asking, “Hey, what do we do with stinker here?”

  The group turned and followed Nal’drin’s gaze to the corner where Glemigk had been quietly staying out of sight.

  “Oh, good question,” said Kiriana.

  “Kill him,” replied Duroc.

  “No, we’re not going to kill him,” snarled Sharka.

  “Yeah that’s not how we do things. We gave him our word, and he held up his end of the bargain,” said Kiriana.

  Theros said, “Lock him up until we get back. If we survive this thing, we can discuss his fate. Now back to our plan.”

  “Are there any other options?” asked Dominar as he tugged on his beard.

  Duroc pursed his lips as he thought for a moment. “No I’m not sure what else we could do.”

  Kiriana raised her eyebrows and her eyes grew wide. “Duroc, could you create a cloaking ward for all six of us?”

  He gave her a curious look. “Of course, but as I explained before the duration of such a spell will be significantly shorter than if I only did one or two. Now I’m not sure what you’re scheming, but you know this—the mahlzur will sense my presence and follow me, even if they can’t see me.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” said Kiriana with a mischievous smile.

  THE SIX COMPANIONS had gathered up their belongings and departed King Duroc’s sanctum. Leaving the chamber, Duroc led them on the route that he thought to be the least likely to encounter a goblin patrol, so they wouldn’t have to rely on the shroud of sorcery just yet. They hurried through the palace’s abandoned halls with urgency.

  “Before we get too far along, I’ll need to retrieve something from my bedchamber,” said Duroc.

  “Any chance it’s a magical weapon that obliterates an entire goblin horde?” asked Nal’drin.

  Duroc scrunched his forehead and said, “Uh, yeah... I don’t have one of those.”

  “Bummer,” replied Nal’drin with a nod and a shrug.

  “Well, what are you getting then?” asked Sharka.

  “My journal.”

  Nal’drin said, “Listen, I get it, you were bottled up for a long time, but do you really think this is the best time to worry about expressing your feelings?”

  “Wise-ass. Don’t be an idiot. My journal holds a lot of my
findings over the years. I’m hoping I can find something useful in it,” snapped Duroc.

  “Speaking of helping, exactly how are we supposed to do this without getting killed?”

  “Get my journal, get as close to the goblin force as possible, then I’ll shroud us long enough to get on the other side of the goblins, giving ourselves a tactical advantage,” replied Duroc. “Now, follow me.”

  Theros and the crew nodded in understanding as the conversation ended. The five companions followed the dwarf king as he led them through the secret passages of his palace. The hidden hallways twisted and turned, but they made short work of the climb out of the palace’s underbelly, then up into the city’s northernmost spire to the king’s bedchamber. Duroc wasted no time finding his journal and slipping it into a black satchel. He slipped the strap over his shoulder, and they were off.

  “NOW, LISTEN UP,” SAID Duroc, “this spell will keep all of us from being seen, but it only affects sight. We can still be heard and touched. It is imperative that we move quickly, but silently.”

  “Will we be able to see each other?” asked Sharka.

  “Good question,” noted Nal’drin.

  “The wards will be bonded in such a way that we will be able to see each other,” answered Duroc with a confident nod. “Now, our time is short, so once the ward is placed, we need to make haste from the palace, and get through the entire courtyard beyond the goblin army. Any questions before I begin the spell?”

  “Are you able to sense or see the mahlzur from here?” asked Theros.

  “Yes, that is part of the reason we need to be moving,” said Duroc, his expression darkened.

  Kiriana spoke up, “Last question, what is our target destination?”

  Duroc gazed at her fondly and was slow to speak. “We just need to get past them, my dear. If we can make it outside the city walls and all the way to the other side of the merchant district, we will be in a great position. It’s a lot of ground to cover; we’ll need to move fast, the initial ward will begin to fail after thirty minutes.”