“Why? What is it?” Derek asked.
“The root will numb the pain and reduce any swelling,” Ennst said. He leaned closer and patted Derek on the arm. “It’ll make you feel better.” He handed the glass to Derek and stood to his feet. “Now you’ll have to excuse me, but there are others who need my services today.” With that, Ennst left the room.
Derek looked at the glass of what appeared to be muddy water. “Can you believe that he expects me to drink that?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Yes,” Kara answered. She bent down, picked up the glass and held it out to Derek.
“I don’t know,” Derek began.
“Well, I do,” Kara replied.
“It won’t hurt you,” Belgil said. A smile was curling the edge of his lips and he wasn’t fighting it too hard. “King Vognar has had a glass himself and he’s already feeling better.”
Kara was still holding the glass out to him and she gave it a little shake.
Sighing, Derek took the glass and quickly turned it up before he could change his mind. Despite how awful it looked, it tasted even worse. He forced the horrible mess down, resisting the urge to gag. When the glass was empty he handed it back and reclined back on the couch. He spent the next several minutes with his eyes closed, just trying to keep from vomiting the mixture back up. When he was confident that it would stay down, Derek opened his eyes to see Belgil and Kara both watching him. “That’s revolting,” he said and then sat up. “I can’t imagine anything ever tasting that bad.”
“It seems to be working,” Kara said.
Derek’s forehead furrowed in confusion and he was on the verge of asking her what she meant when it hit him. He was sitting up without any pain. His eyes could focus and he even had an appetite. He sighed, almost wishing the potion hadn’t worked. Ignoring the nasty drink, Derek looked to Belgil. “When’s dinner?”
Belgil chuckled. “Soon, but first you need to take a bath.”
Derek wrinkled his nose. “Why? I bathed yesterday,” he paused, trying to remember exactly when it was he had last bathed. “Maybe it was the day before.”
Belgil nodded. “You’re to eat with the king and you don’t show up to the king’s table smelling like a goblin.”
Derek held his tongue, not much liking the comparison, although it probably was apt.
Several hours later, Belgil returned for the two Guardians. In the meantime, Derek had bathed and taken a short nap. As much as he hated to admit it, the foul-tasting drink had definitely made him feel better. His neck was still sore, but the pain was greatly reduced.
Derek looked Belgil over as he stood in the doorway. For all his talk about Derek needing a bath, it didn’t appear that Belgil had taken his own advice. He wore the same rumpled clothes that he had worn to the battle with the goblins, and his hair and beard looked as wild and tangled as ever.
Nevertheless, Derek held his tongue. He had enjoyed his bath, the warm water having helped reduce the pain in his sore muscles.
Belgil led them through the palace hallways at a brisk pace.
Derek found the dwarven palace interesting and he kept seeing things that he wanted to investigate further. Several times he thought about asking Belgil to wait a moment, but each time Kara glared at him and he reluctantly held his tongue.
Belgil led them to a small, intimate dining room, which was completely unexpected.
Derek had always believed that the dwarves ate at long tables in smoky, crowded halls. This room would have fit perfectly in the palace in Telur.
The floor, walls, and ceiling were completely composed of exquisitely carved stones. The room was dark as were most of the dwarven halls. A stone, rectangular table filled the middle of the room. Six chairs sat around the table. Three of those chairs were already filled. King Vognar, Blore, and Rotir rose as the newcomers entered.
“Welcome!” Vognar called as they entered. He saluted them with a huge mug of mead. His cheeks were a tad red and he wore a silly smile, making Derek think the king had already drunk a few mugs.
Kara looked at the three empty seats and then up at the king. Her unasked question was obvious, Does it matter where we sit?
The king didn’t notice but Rotir smiled and nodded for her to take the nearest seat.
Kara slipped into the chair directly opposite the king, while Derek and Belgil sat on either side of her.
“How are you, King Vognar?” Kara asked.
Vognar saluted with his mug again. “I’m fine, dear lady. Thank you for asking.”
Derek smiled at the king. How quickly they had gone from sitting in the king’s dungeon to sitting at the king’s table. “So, about us being able to leave,” Derek said slowly.
Vognar’s smile slipped and he waved a hand. “None of that now. Later! Now is the time for celebration.”
“Oh,” Kara said.
Vognar nodded. “All the goblins are dead,” he sobered up a bit, “and the cost in dwarven lives was minimal.”
Surprised, Derek looked to Rotir and then back to the king. “Are you sure? Couldn’t there be others hiding in a hole somewhere?”
Rotir and the king shook their heads in unison. “No. We’ve sent Nogli into the tunnels and they’ve been unable to find the first trace of any other goblins.”
“Excuse me but what are Nogli?” Kara asked.
“It’s a creature,” Belgil explained, “rather like a dog. They live under the ground and they hate the smell of goblins.”
“Well,” Derek began slowly, “that’s great! Were there many in the cavern when it collapsed?”
Rotir nodded. “Many indeed. The tunnel area around the old portal cavern is covered in the blood of the goblins that died in the cave-in. I doubt we’ll ever get the smell to go away.”
Any further conversation was stopped by the sudden arrival of the food. Several of the white-clothed dwarves stepped in carrying trays of meat and bread. In addition, warm mugs of mead were placed in front of the three late arrivals. There wasn’t much variety; lots of roasted meat and bread.
Derek frowned at the bread. The question of where they got the grain had crossed his mind before, and it had never been answered. He was about to ask but changed his mind at the last moment. The four dwarves were attacking their food like they hadn’t eaten in a week. He glanced to Kara and caught the ghost of a smile play across her face. To his surprise, Kara reached out and ripped off a huge chunk of meat for herself. She wasted no time in attacking the food in a very unladylike manner. Surprised, and still the only one not eating, Derek hastened to join in with the others.
With no one talking and everyone eating like a starved dog, dinner didn’t take long, surely no more than half an hour. After that, the servants returned and cleared the table and, of course, brought more mead.
In short time, there were six pleasantly stuffed individuals sitting around the table enjoying the mead. The drink was actually quite good; warmed with just a touch of cinnamon. It didn’t take much to get the two Guardians slightly intoxicated; it had been a while since they had last indulged in liquor.
With dinner done and everyone enjoying an after-dinner drink, the king leaned back in his chair and sighed. “The dwarves of Az’ha’rill’hadell owe you a great debt. And I owe you my life.”
Derek squirmed a little in his seat, unused to receiving such praise. Kara seemed to glow at the words.
Vognar leaned back into the table. “I am naming you each dwarf-friend. You will always be welcome here or in any other dwarven hold.”
For a moment neither Derek nor Kara spoke, and then they both burst out with their thanks,
“That’s so wonderful!”
“You favor us too much!”
Derek wasn’t sure what being a dwarf-friend entailed, but it sounded nice, and the other dwarves looked appropriately shocked.
Vognar held up a hand and both Kara and Derek lapsed into silence. “I do not favor you too much because I believe that would be impossible. That filthy Orlac meant to end my lif
e and he was about to do it when you two intervened.” He paused and stood up.
Derek and Kara almost followed his lead, but Rotir motioned for them to remain seated.
Vognar walked around the table and leaned over to hug Kara. “Dear lady, you saved my life and there is no way that I could repay you this debt. I offer this small token as a sign of my appreciation.” The king’s hands dipped into his pocket and he retrieved a small box. Flipping the lid of the box open, he handed it over to Kara.
Kara took the box with trembling hands and stared wide-eyed at its contents. The color slowly drained from her face and she shook her head. “I cannot accept this. It’s too much!”
Vognar smiled and patted Kara on the shoulder. “You must accept it or you would do me a great dishonor.”
Kara swallowed hard, her eyes still on the box and its contents.
Kara shifted in her seat and Derek was finally able to see what she was goggling at. It was a silver necklace. The necklace was wider than a man’s finger and unnaturally shiny. At the very center of the necklace, in the position of honor, hung a diamond the size of a bird’s egg. At last, he understood why Kara was so dumbstruck. The necklace had to be the most valuable thing either of them had ever held.
“This necklace was forged long ago, when my people first came to Az’ha’rill’hadell. It is called the Necklace of Lassium. The first king of Az’ha’rill’hadell was Dvalinn, and he brought the Spirit Stone with him. His family had carried it for generations as they wandered the hills and mountains. He had it made into this necklace for his wife, the Queen Lassium. She wore it all her days and it passed to her daughters upon her death. It has been an heirloom of my family for millennia.”
Kara took a deep breath, her eyes still fixed on the necklace. “I am in awe. No words that I can think of can express my gratitude.”
Vognar nodded and patted her shoulder again. “No words are necessary. It is I who thanks you for what you have done.” He motioned to the necklace. “Wear it always. It will mark you out to other dwarves and they will aid you however they can.”
Kara’s eyes had gotten a little shiny, but she nodded. “Thank you, thank you.”
Vognar moved past Kara and came to stand next to Derek. For a moment, Derek feared the dwarf would want to hug him as he had done Kara. He needn’t have worried, though. Vognar grasped his arm and looked him in the eye. “I owe you a debt that I cannot repay, please accept this small token of my gratitude.” He held up a small box, much smaller than the one that Kara had been given. Vognar flipped the lid open.
Derek looked inside and his breath caught. In the small box, sitting upon silky cloth, was a ring. The ring had been fashioned into the form of a dragon curling around an egg, but the egg was a stone. The stone was unlike any that Derek had ever seen. It was multi-colored; red, blue, and green, all the colors dark and swirled together.
“This ring is even older than the Necklace of Lassium. It is one of six such rings given to the sons of the High-King Orlissiim.”
Derek was enthralled, staring at the ring in wonder. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered.
“Indeed,” Vognar agreed. “In all our years of digging and mining, we’ve only found one small stone like that.” He pointed to the multi-colored egg. “It was a very long time ago, when all the dwarves lived in one kingdom in the White Mountains. There came a time when the dwarven city could no longer support all the dwarves and the High-King Orlissiim named his eldest son his heir and sent his remaining six sons out into the world. He bade them build new dwarven kingdoms. Before they left, he gave each of them a ring such as this. The stone was called Dwarven Blood and the High-King had it cut and fashioned into six rings. Each son that left got a ring. It is called an Orlissiim ring and it is priceless beyond imaging.”
Derek swallowed, amazed that the king was giving such a ring to him. He shook his head. “My king, I cannot accept this. It belongs with you and yours.”
Vognar shook his head. “You misunderstand. You are now one of mine. This ring cannot repay you for the act of bravery you demonstrated on my behalf. It is just a small token of my appreciation.”
Derek blinked back tears, surprising even himself. Even though he was choked up, he managed to say, “Thank you. Thank you for this.” With that, he slipped the beautiful ring onto his left-hand ring finger. It almost looked like the dragon was moving as it rested on his finger.
“There is more that I need to tell you …” Vognar started to say, but he cut off as the door to the dining room opened and a white-robed dwarf stuck his head in.
“Forgive me, my king,” the dwarf began, “but Councilor Emlin bade me inform you that the human emissary has been caught.”
There was a mad scramble to leave the dining room. King Vognar led the way, followed by Rotir and Blore. Belgil, Kara, and Derek brought up the rear, walking side by side. Derek was admiring the Orlissiim ring on his hand; amazed that such a treasure had been given to him.
The king led them to an audience room. Stepping through the doorway, Derek descended stairs to a flat circular floor. All around the floor, tiered seating climbed away from the floor, but the seats were empty.
The ceiling was a mirror image of the floor. The ceiling near the edges of the room was almost low enough for Derek to touch, but then it stepped up higher until the center of the room had the highest ceiling.
Directly opposite the arch, across the lowered floor, was a raised throne. The seat was nearly ten feet off the floor and the only way to reach it was from an opening directly behind the throne. The throne was currently empty. The whole room was empty except for four figures directly in the middle of the circular floor.
Councilor Emlin stood beside two guards. Kneeling in the middle of the guards, was a bound and gagged Anton.
Vognar smacked his hands together. “Excellent! Where did you find him, Emlin?”
Emlin straightened at the praise. “We caught him trying to sneak past the guards at the western gate.”
Anton most certainly had seen better days. He was naked, both beaten and bruised. The only cloth that touched his body were the bonds that tied his hands and the cloth that gagged him. It was not a pretty sight.
Vognar motioned to the guard on the right. “Draw your sword,” he commanded and the guard hastened to obey. “If this magician does anything unusual, you are to cut his head off. If I wave my hand at you, then you are to cut his head off. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my king,” the guard said quickly and then he took aim at Anton’s neck.
Vognar kneeled down in front of Anton. “I am going to remove the gag. If you do anything that I don’t like, or anything that this guard thinks is suspicious, then you lose your head. Do you understand?”
Anton nodded once and then held still for the left-most guard to remove the gag. Once the gag came away, Anton began working his jaws. His eyes slid past Vognar and came to rest on Derek and Kara. “My king,” he said suddenly, “give them to me and Ocklamoor can still be yours. Your kingdom and Zalustus can still be at peace.”
Vognar held up one finger. “Tell me the truth! Would Zalustus ever have given me Ocklamoor?”
Anton clamped his mouth shut, like he didn’t want to answer the question.
“Answer me or you are of no use to me,” Vognar commanded.
Anton swallowed several times and then shook his head. “No, my king. He most certainly would not have given you the shield.” He dropped his eyes to the ground.
Vognar took a deep breath. “I think that’s the first time you’ve been honest with me since you entered my kingdom.” He paused for a moment, but Anton didn’t speak. “Tell me, were the dwarves promised to the goblins?”
Anton swallowed again, paused, and then nodded.
“So your mission was to lie to me and get me to stay out of the coming battle?” Vognar asked.
“Yes,” Anton agreed, “and to find the key to the Wizards Portal.”
“Ah, yes,” Vognar said, nodding his he
ad.
“My king,” Anton said with a touch of urgency in his voice, “I know many of Zalustus’ secrets. Ask and they are yours. I can tell you his and King Zarum’s plans. I can be of use to you,” Anton said, begging now.
Vognar paused, appearing to consider, then he waved his hand at the guard. Anton’s eyes bulged outward and he started to turn, but he never made it. The blade descended, ending all of Anton’s concerns at once.
Anton’s head rolled to the ground and his body slumped forward.
“What did you do?” Derek demanded. “He could have given us their plans for attack.”
Vognar shook his head. “He lied to us once already and now he was offering to betray his king. Nothing he said could be trusted. It’s better this way.”
Derek wasn’t so sure but he held his tongue.
“Dispose of that,” Vognar said to the two guards, pointing at the body of the old emissary. They hastened to obey.
“What now, my king,” Blore asked.
Vognar took a deep breath. “Now the dwarves march to the aid of Telur.”
Chapter 19
Atock and Enton left Baron Wharton’s castle early on the morning following their meeting with the baron and Lord Steel. They took the old boatman, Gigla, along as their guide. They each rode a horse and Enton led a fourth horse carrying supplies. Baron Wharton had been unable to lend them any horses, so Atock and Enton were stuck with just the four horses they had brought with them. With three riders and a packhorse, they would have to take it easier on the poor beasts as they didn’t have the luxury of remounts now.
They rode eastward, making good time on the many farmer’s roads that ran to the east and west. The northern bank of the Adelion River was settled for many miles east and west of the Southern Road, and the traveling was easy.
Their pace was slightly slowed by Gilga. The man seemed to never have ridden a horse in his life. He maintained a death-grip on the reins and bounced around in the saddle. It was scary to watch and several times Atock was sure Gilga was about to fall off. Somehow the wizened old farm-hand stayed in the saddle, although he was bruised from head to toe that first night. Every time he dismounted his horse, Gilga would slowly straighten up and groan loudly, but he never said one word in complaint.
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