The Halls of the Fallen King

by Tiger Hebert

  Nothing.

  At Theros’ call for help, Duroc grew desperate. The king whispered, “I believe now.”

  Nothing happened.

  “I said, I believe!”

  Nothing happened.

  The king sat dumbfounded. For the first time in a long, long time, he placed his trust in something other than the Qarii, and someone other than himself, and it left him powerless. He cried out as he drew hard upon the Qarii, but none answered. He drew a deep breath, and with all his might he called upon the Qarii.

  Nothing.

  The shock of disappointment was an avalanche that hit him harder than he could have ever expected. His companions, the people who freed him were locked in battle before him, but he was lost in a stupor of confusion and disbelief.

  Theros roared as he leapt toward the breach. His movement defied logic, reason, and every immutable law of physics, but the hulking gray warrior shot ten yards through the air. He landed with an explosion, thirty feet into the enemy lines. Broken bodies were strewn all around him. Goblins with spears, swords, and clubs descended upon him, but it seemed every blow was just too slow. He parried, he dodged, and he counter-attacked with deadly effect. The lightning that coursed over his body occasionally reached down to his hammers and arced outward, striking and killing foes that he hadn’t even touched.

  Determined to stick to his side, Sharka pulled her daggers from their sheaths and she charged hard after him, forcing her way through the throng of attackers. Bladed weapons glanced harmlessly off her hardened skin. She lunged, thrust, spun, and slashed in her typical snickersnee style. But now skill and speed were not her only companions. Her enhanced physique gave her strikes a newfound power. Between the two of them, they’d defeated scores of their enemies, but they just kept coming.

  The earth shook violently, and another wall cracked open.

  Groknahl made his way back into the sanctum through the new, third breach. His lips began to move as the new incantation began. Swirling orbs of red fire swelled in the goblin king’s hands. Soon the orbs were speeding toward the earth walls that Sharka had built.

  “The walls are holding for now, but I’m not sure how much they can take,” she hollered.

  “We’ve got to take him out,” shouted Kiriana.

  “Leave it to me,” growled the big orc.

  An unseen blade slipped past his defenses and sliced his side open. Theros roared at the pain. He spun toward the attacker and parried the goblin’s second attack. His right hammer plowed into the goblin’s chest. Theros glanced down at his side. Blood flowed freely from the wound.

  Kiriana saw the blood flow from his wound. More strangely, in some way she sensed it. It was almost like she could feel it. Not the pain, but the need. She ducked below a spear thrust and buried her right dagger into the creature’s gut. She ripped the blade free just in time to lunge away from the downward swing of a large sword.

  Her lunge saved her from the goblin’s blade, but it cost Kiriana her balance. The goblin swordsman rounded back on her. He wouldn’t miss this time. She dropped one of her daggers and flicked her now free fingers at him. A radiant flare hit him in the eyes. The creature howled in blindness before Sharka silenced him with a stonefisted jab to the side of the head.

  There was no time for words to be exchanged. The girls just nodded at each other before Kiriana sprinted toward her wounded companion.

  “You bastards can’t have him.” Nal’drin screamed as he swung the two-handed sword in a wide defensive arc.

  Goblins had started to climb over the walls that Sharka had built, and a couple were closing in on them.

  The first goblin, dressed in red leather rags, taunted him with a spear thrust. “We’s eats yous soon!”

  “Dom, I need you to wake up!”

  The first spear thrust came, and Nal’drin side-stepped it with ease. The second goblin was too slow with his attack, and Nal’drin had plenty of time to anticipate it and parry the blow. He followed with a punch. It landed square on the goblin’s jaw. The creature staggered, and for a moment, Nal’drin wasn’t outnumbered.

  The remaining goblin seized the opportunity and lunged and thrust his spear. The attack was low and off center. Nal’drin swept his blade down and to the right. Then he stepped to the goblin and delivered a devastating elbow into the creature’s throat. Nal’drin swung with all his might, and the choking goblin’s head was cut clean from his body.

  The second goblin regained its balance and charged. Nal’drin was out of position to parry; he’d never have time to get his blade around. He released his grip. The sword fell to the floor as he side-stepped the spear thrust. He caught the spear with his left hand, and he brought his right hand down hard on the spear’s shaft. The wood snapped. Nal’drin jammed the spearhead in the creature’s abdomen.

  Nal’drin never saw the spear coming. Dominar opened his eyes just in time to watch in horror as the barbed tip of a spear exited through Nal’drin’s side with a spray of blood.

  “Nooo!” screamed Dom as the crimson spray covered him.

  A scared and confused look came over Nal’drin’s face as shock took his body. His hands helplessly groped about his side. Blood flowed freely. He looked around in confusion to find his attacker. To his surprise another goblin had cleared the wall. He cried out as the first waves of pain broke through. They showed no mercy, leaving the young king screaming.

  A familiar goblin snorted smugly in triumph as he watched the boy die. Captain Greblar sneered. Someone cried out behind them. The brilliant golden light flared in Greblar’s face. Blind and panicking, he crashed into the altar.

  “You bastard!” Kiriana buried her dagger in his back.

  She turned and rushed to Nal’drin’s aid, but he had already lost so much blood. She screamed for help, to God and anyone else that was listening, but the only answers she heard were the cries of a dying man.

  More goblins surged into the sanctum, and only Sharka and Theros stood against them. They’d taken out so many, but with Groknahl’s sorcerous attacks, they were losing ground and they were losing it fast.

  Groknahl laughed. “I told you, it will all end in fire.”

  With that the goblin king hurled a massive ball of flame toward Theros.

  “Get down!” screamed Sharka.

  She flung her hands skyward. The earth responded. Rock and stone surged to his defense. Sparks flew as the fireball slammed against the narrow earthen bulwark.

  A goblin captain screamed, “Take her out!”

  Theros turned toward Sharka. Several chains were thrown around her. The chains snapped tight and ripped her to the ground. Goblins armed with iron maces raced across the room. Theros sprang forward as chains were thrown around his neck, then his legs.

  “Nooo!”

  Mace wielding goblins drew around her. He threw his last hammer, crushing one of them. He roared and yanked on his restraints. Lightning surged through the chains that held him, electrifying his captors. His bonds fell free; the beast was loose. He bolted forward as the first iron head of the goblin maces descended.

  Massive gray fingers seized the iron weapon, halting its attack. Theros ripped the weapon free, and threw the goblin into another one. Theros was struck in the back with one of the maces. He howled in pain, before driving his boulder-sized fist into his enemy’s face. He reached down and snapped the chains that held Sharka down as another mace hammered him from the side. Theros leveled the goblin with an elbow, before retrieving his nearby hammer.

  “You get back to the others, see if Duroc can find a way out of here.”

  “What about you?” demanded Sharka.

  “I’m getting my other hammer, and I’m finishing this.”

  “Don’t—”

  “Go!” snapped Theros.

  Sharka turned and ran.

  Theros fought to break his hammer free from the shield that was crushed around it, while a new wave of goblins poured into the room. The protective earthen walls that Sharka had created were
failing. Soon they would be overrun and within the grasp of the goblin king, who appeared to be preparing another spell. Red mists began to form around King Groknahl as he drew the Qarii to him. The promise of virulent magic was at hand.

  Freeing his hammer, Theros charged.

  The sprinting orc leapt high into the air. He raised both of his hammers far above his head and as he landed, he slammed them to the ground. A furious blast of lightning was released upon impact. Thunder and blinding white light filled the cavern. Hundreds of goblin bodies were thrown dozens of yards from the blast, clearing the way to Groknahl.

  Theros watched the goblin king panic as he began his incantation again. Groknahl wove crimson threads of sorcery between his hands as Theros rushed him. Theros lunged, but it was too late. The streaking crimson tendrils struck him.

  “Aaaagh!”

  Theros screamed at the burning scourge of the magic. A thousand fiery razors flaying the flesh of his arms would hurt less. He screamed, and he charged.

  “Almost there!”

  The second tendril slammed into his chest with more kick than a mule. Theros instantly smelled burnt hair as the spell’s intense heat singed the small patch of hair right off his chest. The blow staggered him, but he stumbled forward. He was within a stride of Groknahl with his hammer raised high when the third and fourth tendrils snapped forward and lashed both of his wrists. Crippling pain surged through Theros’ body. The twins of dwarven iron crashed to the broken stone floor after falling away from his enfeebled grip.

  Groknahl cackled as he pulled the leashed orc closer.

  The earth trembled, and stones began to fall away.

  Theros fought against the magical restraints on his wrists, but they were too strong.

  “You stupid orc! You were never going to best me,” said Groknahl as he pulled a long dagger from his belt.

  Theros lunged forward and slammed the crown of his head into the goblin king’s cheekbone. The bone snapped with a sickening crunch, and the king staggered back and began to scream, until the nausea hit. Groknahl fell on all fours and began to dry heave. With his focus broken, the Qarii released Theros.

  He dove forward, slamming his body into the king’s sword arm. The bones shattered like dead branches under his weight. Theros grabbed the dagger from the floor with his left hand, and with a backhand thrust, he drove the long blade up into Groknahl’s gullet.

  “You’ve been bested.”

  Theros didn’t revel in the goblin king’s horrific death. He had to grab his hammers and go. The ground thundered with the rumblings of another massive tremor. The walls around them groaned and cracked as they shifted. Stones began to break free. The final remnants of the goblin army scattered as the keep echoed with the blasts of the tumbling rocks.

  Rising above the chaos of the fighting, a voice shouted, “To the portal.”

  Theros wasn’t sure where the voice was coming from, but as he sprinted toward his friends he found that the stones that adorned the portal had begun to glow with incredible intensity. The portal that once opened some hellish rift now appeared much different, instead it shimmered with golden brown hues.

  “To the portal,” shouted Theros, echoing the previous command.

  Theros reached Sharka, whose skin had apparently returned to normal, just before the dais.

  “Nal’drin, he’s bad,” shouted Sharka.

  There on the floor in a pool of blood, Kiriana clutched Nal’drin. Nal’drin was nearly gone. Kiriana wailed as Sharka and Dom both pried her away, so they could drag her to the portal. Theros reached down and scooped Nal’drin up. Blood still spilled from the dying king, but the flow was gravely small.

  “To the portal!” Theros leapt up onto the dais with Nal’drin cradled in his arms.

  Sharka screamed something, but Theros couldn’t hear her as massive chunks of stone crashed down just behind them. Sharka didn’t wait for him to respond; she turned away from the portal and started to run past him. Theros held Nal’drin in one arm, and caught her with the other arm.

  Sharka screamed, “We don’t know where this leads; get the supplies!”

  “I’ll get em!”

  Theros nodded with understanding. He motioned for Dom to help with Nal’drin, but the dwarf was already doing just that. Dom and Kiriana worked together to get him to the portal. The massive loss of blood drove Nal’drin closer to death’s door with each beat of his heart, and delirium began to take hold. Kiriana and Dominar rushed him to the portal in hopes that they could tend to his wound on the other side. Then they were gone.

  Duroc was in shock. The king stood stunned. He watched the kingdom he built collapse before his eyes, more importantly he was watching a good man die, and he was powerless to stop any of it. The tears might not have come, but a part of the old king wept. The chieftain’s yell woke him from his stupor. Though still in a daze, he turned amidst the chaos and found himself staring at an active portal, one he did not activate. He shook his head in confusion as his eyes slipped from the pulsating Elder Stones to the shimmering gateway that stood before them. It can’t be, he thought as he numbly stumbled toward the rift, and escaped his collapsing kingdom.

  Sharka nodded, then sprang from her spot just in time to avoid a falling chunk of rock. The big orc followed right behind her. She darted through the corpse and debris laden sanctum with uncanny grace, skillfully finding footing where others would have surely tripped and fallen. The journey was still treacherous as the walls and the roof continued to rain debris throughout the sanctum, but Sharka managed to reach the packs. She threw Dom’s on her back, and tossed the other pack to Theros. Another tremor hit, and one of the supporting walls near the sanctum’s entrance exploded. Rock and mortar flew in all directions and the ceiling began to collapse.

  “Run!” screamed Theros.

  Despite the awkward weight of the pack jostling across her back, the orc warrior dashed through the sanctum with the grace of a kluelle. Theros was not so agile. He wasn’t a kluelle bounding effortlessly through the tall grass; no, he was the snarling bear that trampled everything in its path on the way to the kill.

  Sharka raced up the altar’s steps and charged hard for the portal, hurdling boulders along the way. Then like the others, she was gone, swallowed by the portal. Theros cleared the stairs in two strides and made his way for the portal.

  The ground shook violently, causing him to lose his footing. He stumbled and his foot snagged on debris. The orc fell forward and crashed into a boulder. He felt a snap. Torrid pain shot through his left forearm and he looked to find it bent unnaturally. The orc roared as if in defiance of the very pain that bit at him. He grabbed the pack with his good arm and he hurled it towards the portal. The heavy pack tumbled through the air, just barely reaching the magical gateway. It rolled through the rift, and it was gone.

  Theros willed himself to his feet as he held his broken arm close to his chest. He hurried over to the portal and began to pluck the Elder Stones, one by one, from their cradles and tossed them through the portal. Then he reached down and grasped the handle of the massive battle axe. The already deafening collapse of the dwarven ruins reached new heights as the entire ceiling finally gave way as the mountain fell in on itself. With the axe in his grip, Theros dove through the portal.

  IN THE DARK AND STRANGELY disjointed and incongruent space between worlds, Kiriana and Duroc held Nal’drin. Kiriana waved her hands over him, willing his wounds to be closed, for his life to be spared. No golden light came, no magic knit the wound.

  “No! I can’t lose you.” She clutched at him tightly.

  The young king tried to hug her back, but the strength was gone from him. His eyes began to flutter open and closed. He looked up to Dom, and forced his eyes open and said, “Father... are you... proud of me? Please say... I’ve made you... proud?”

  Nal’drin’s delirious words ripped the heart from Dominar, and wracked him with grief. A boulder lodged itself in his throat as he tried not to weep. He coughed to clear his t
hroat.

  “Yes son.”

  Dom couldn’t say any more. The dam broke and tears flowed, but Nal’drin would never know it.

  31

  The Unseen Wheel

  This whole journey has been far more fruitful than I could have ever hoped. I have collected nearly everything I need. Only one thing still eludes me, but my sources indicate it is much closer to where I started. I’ve chartered a ship from the port in Elroet. Tonight we sail west. Aurion, prepare yourself, your king is coming home—with knowledge that will change the world forever...

  From the personal journal of Duroc Stonebrow

  THEROS HELD HIS BROKEN arm tight against his body, and dragged the battle axe behind him as he passed through the dark place between the worlds. He was hurt, he was broken, and he was alone—but he was alive. He hoped his friends were too.

  He tried to prepare himself to exit the dark passage, but he couldn’t. He stumbled out into blinding bright light that burned his eyes. He closed them, but he saw black spots everywhere. Temporary blindness set in as oppressive heat rushed him from all sides. Theros quickly found that even squeezing his eyes shut didn’t keep all the light out. Reflexively he brought his arm up to shield his face, letting the axe handle fall to the ground. He staggered forward and lost his footing as the uneven sands shifted beneath his boots.

  “It’s okay, big guy, we got ya,” said a familiar, but strained voice. “Takes a few minutes, but your eyes will adjust.”

  Hands landed on the orc’s chest in an attempt to steady him, but they bumped his broken arm.

  “Aaagh!”

  “Oh my, we’ve got to take care of that,” said the familiar voice before gentle hands gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

  Theros then recognized that the voice, strained as it was, was Dom’s. Another pair of hands, gentle and comforting found his shoulder, but no words—only weeping accompanied them. The woman tried to stop sobbing, but she couldn’t. Theros listened as wave after wave of grief washed over her. Even still she clutched his good arm and pulled close to him, burying her tear-soaked face into his chest. Theros slowly relaxed the muscles in his face. The overwhelmingly bright light flooded the narrowed slits of his eyes, but he could see. Gradually opening his eyes, Theros found the loving face of Sharka staring up at him. Her sobbing had stopped for a moment, but her teary eyes sparkled in the light of the sun’s angry rays. Her face was marred with sores from the bites and stings of the demon’s foul magic, leaving her welted and swollen, and still she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.