“We estimate four days, maybe five,” said Krendal. “There are some human troops among them, so they will have to stop for sleep breaks. We will have time to lay some traps, but even so, their numbers will be overwhelming. The residents of Marral and Warral will be evacuated to the fortified city of Arral when the time comes, and supplies are already being stockpiled on the island in case of a siege. How we’ll hold out until help arrives is beyond me. I can only hope that the elves will be along soon. I have sent out some scouts to redirect the elven forces to the Tower of Sorcery instead of the Tower of Strength. Beyond that, there is nothing more we can do.”
“I will make arrangements for the soldiers here to depart at once,” said Fildamir. “They will not be happy to have another battle to go to, but that is the way of war.”
“Very good,” said Krendal.
“I will come with the first wave,” continued Fildamir.
“O.K.,” said Krendal. “The sooner you get here, the better. I’ll contact the Tower of the Stars and tell them to send what ships they can to pick up your soldiers.”
“Understood,” said Fildamir. “We’re on our way.”
Strangely enough, he forgot to tell Krendal that Kazin was a dragon mage.
Part VIII
The Living
vs. the Dead
Chapter 61
Harran slipped quietly along the city’s underground passageways. After slipping past the guard post while they weren’t looking, he followed the tunnels with practiced ease. It was relatively quiet down here. He had only encountered one work crew and they were too far away to notice him as he crept silently along. Soon he turned off and made his way to the very spot where he and Zylor had made their earlier escape.
The dwarf looked up at the scarcely visible trap door at the top of a set of dusty, abandoned stairs. No one had used them in a long time. Harran nodded in satisfaction and ascended the stairs. He stopped with his ear against the trap door and listened. Nothing. Then he gently pushed against the trap door. It lifted with a slight creak and Harran tried to peek through the crack. It was dark. Gently, he lifted the trap door enough to crawl through and then lowered it back down quietly. The rug that was on top of it when he and Zylor exited several weeks ago came down with it, and the rug’s dust, as it flew against his face, nearly made him sneeze.
Harran felt around for the door and managed to do so without bumping into anything in the tiny store room. He opened the door and peeked out. The kitchen was deserted and a lone torch on one side cast its eerie glow from a wall sconce.
The dwarf entered the kitchen and glanced out the open entryway into the corridor beyond. No one was about. He followed the corridor to a main passage and made for the exit leading to the courtyard.
He was halfway down the passageway when another dwarf suddenly appeared at the far end.
Harran looked around frantically for a place to hide but there were none. He decided to play it cool and keep walking, looking as though he had every right to be there. The patrolling dwarf approached and the two dwarves nodded briefly at each other as they passed one another.
Harran breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good.
He entered the courtyard and, as luck would have it, a guard instantly called, “Halt!”
Harran froze at first until he realized the guard was talking to a dwarf boy near the wall at the front gate. All of the other guards watched as the guard who initially hollered approached the boy and reprimanded him for something Harran couldn’t hear.
Harran took advantage of the distraction to slip through the unguarded palace doors unseen. Once inside he relaxed. From here on, no one would question his presence. If the guards out in the courtyard allowed him entry, he must be O.K.
He confidently walked along the cobbled stone corridors, his boots echoing loudly as he went. He tried to change his walk to deaden the sound somewhat and succeeded. It was now only loud enough for anyone in the corridor to hear him, not the entire palace.
He rounded a corner and entered a passageway with many doors to either side. At the first door he heard voices and froze. Then he silently berated himself for being so jumpy and started to continue down the corridor when a voice from within the room made him freeze again.
“I don’t like it, Manhar,” said the voice. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
Harran looked around but couldn’t see or hear anyone approaching. Then he positioned himself with his ear against the door and listened to the conversation inside.
“I know,” said a voice that Harran recognized as General Manhar’s. “I think it’s that new map maker who is by the king’s side all the time. He doesn’t seem right somehow, but I can’t quite put a finger on it.”
“I don’t like him either,” said the other dwarf. “He certainly knows how to find gold deposits, though.”
“That bothers me too,” muttered Manhar. “That pile of gold in the throne room looks like gold, sure enough, but there’s something odd about it. Did you see the dwarves who brought the gold into the throne room? They weren’t even sweating! I just—I don’t know.”
“Can’t put your finger on it?” finished the other dwarf.
“That’s about it, Howell. The whole thing’s fishy.”
“Why don’t you tell the king?” asked Howell. “He could have the gold checked out.”
“And second guess his favourite sidekick?” retorted Manhar. “Not bloody likely! He’ll send me off with the others in the blink of an eye! Believe me, if he could find fault with me, he’d kick me out without batting an eyelash! It all started with that magical transporting device. I asked too many questions, and the king didn’t like it. He said it was none of my business! Can you imagine that? Me—his chief security guard and army general! If it wasn’t for me following orders so precisely, he’d have replaced me a long time ago. Fortunately, he can’t get rid of me without upsetting the nobles; he needs an excuse, and I don’t aim to give him one.”
“Too bad the nobles are gutless old fools, too fearful to stand up to the king, but would love to take his place if the opportunity presented itself,” said Howell.
“They’d need the backing of some influential people to succeed in making any stand against the king,” said Manhar, “otherwise their fate is dishonour and banishment.”
“You could support them,” suggested Howell. “With the support of the army, the king might listen to reason.”
Manhar laughed. “Me? Support those fools? All they’re interested in is their personal gain. If I were to support any one of them, how long do you think I would keep my position? I’m safer with the one who sits on the throne today.”
“True enough,” said Howell. “What we need is a true leader.” He lowered his voice. “Have you considered—you know—taking over for yourself?”
Manhar snorted. “I’d have to have a good reason, or even my own men would turn against me. The king would have to be completely discredited to be successfully overthrown by a military leader. That’s not too easy to do.”
“I see what you mean,” said Howell.
“It’s time to go see the king,” said Manhar, pushing his chair back and rising.
Harran ran back around the corner and waited for the general and his commander to exit their room. The two dwarves started down the hall and Harran waited a few moments before following.
He followed a good distance back and kept pace with them step for step so as not to be overheard. They climbed three sets of stairs and turned left to approach the guarded throne room. Manhar and Howell nodded at the guards and were immediately granted admittance into the throne room.
Harran appeared a moment later and nodded at the guards.
“Entry by commoners is forbidden,” said one guard.
“I am here regarding my honour status,” said Harran. “It is my right t
o see the king when I have acquired one or more of the three things necessary to restore my honour. It is written so in the ancient texts, and is the law by which we all abide.”
The guards looked at each other uncertainly for a moment and finally one of them pulled twice on a nearby bell rope.
An announcer appeared shortly and Harran repeated his request. The announcer nodded silently and led Harran into the throne room.
Once inside, Harran couldn’t believe his eyes. In the center of the throne room, where some seats used to be, was a large pile of ordinary rocks. Nobles sat in their elevated seats and stared at the rocks in fascination. A few lower level seats were also occupied.
Manhar and Howell stood facing the king and the general was giving a report. The king, wearing a dazzling red robe, and adorned with hordes of jewellery, sat on his throne and listened intently to his general’s report.
Suddenly Harran saw something that made him gasp. Standing calmly next to the king, dressed in typical dwarven clothing, was a lizardman!
Harran looked around at the assembled dwarves in shock. Didn’t they see the lizardman next to their king? What was wrong with everyone? Why did they allow this creature to be here?
Manhar finished his report and the king nodded distantly. “Continue to monitor that area, Manhar. We may find signs of the lizardmen there, if they exist.”
Harran’s head spun. “If they exist? There was one right next to him! What was he talking about?”
The lizardman bent and whispered something into the king’s ear. The king nodded. “Try the tunnels to the northwest, General. There are more suitable hideouts there for any potential intruders.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Manhar stiffly. By his expression, he was not pleased with this choice of locations.
The announcer approached the king and announced that a dwarf was here to see him to have his honour restored.
“Bring him before me,” ordered the king. “Let’s see if he’s got anything worthwhile to give me in exchange for his honour.”
The announcer waved Harran forward and Harran approached the spot where General Manhar and his commander stood. The general recognized him at once but said nothing. He eyed Harran’s chain mail and ice axe with more than curiosity, however.
Harran faced the king and gave the customary salute, slapping his left shoulder with his right hand. “My king,” he said.
“State your name,” ordered the king. Obviously he didn’t recognize Harran.
“Harran Mapmaker,” said Harran. He could have sworn the lizardman hissed lightly just then. As it was, the creature glared at him with slitted eyes. Harran glared back and the creature seemed somewhat taken aback.
The king leaned forward intently, recognition dawning on his face. “Ah, yes! I remember you! You’re the one who started all this nonsense about lizardmen! Because of you, many others have imagined seeing those creatures! As yet, we have no evidence of them even existing!”
Harran didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Was the king blind?
“You wish to restore your honour,” said the king, who was obviously anxious to get Harran out of the way. “Do you have one of the three items? Or do you have another tall tale for me?”
Some nobles in the room laughed at the king’s joke.
“I have all three items, Sire,” declared Harran.
The king blinked. “Did I just hear you right? You have an item of inestimable worth, an item of extreme rarity, AND an item of the distant past?”
“Yes, Sire,” said Harran.
“Show us,” ordered the king.
Harran pulled out his ice axe, allowing it to glint in the nearby torchlight. “The item of extreme rarity,” said Harran, turning so all in the throne room could see and hear. “An ice axe.” Several in the crowd murmured appreciatively.
Harran placed the ice axe on the floor in front of him. Then he removed the ancient chain mail and held it up for all to see. “An item of the distant past,” said Harran proudly. He placed that on the floor on top of his axe. “It belonged to Hagen Ironfaust while he was still in the elite guard. He later took over the throne from King Hammarschist and sent the former king and his family into exile deep in the mountain.”
“Nonsense!” the king spluttered. “Ironfausts have always ruled the dwarves!”
“Apparently not, Sire,” said Harran. “The name and rank are quite clear on the shoulder pad, along with whom he served.”
There were several surprised murmurs among the nobles at this news.
“Bring the chain mail to me, General,” ordered the king.
Manhar complied, carrying the chain mail up the stairs to the throne. The king squinted at the crest and his eyebrows twitched in consternation. “Impossible! It must be a fake!”
“The dwarven smiths will confirm its age and authenticity,” said Harran.
The king looked up from his examination of the chain mail. “I will send it to the smiths to determine just that. Until then, I will avoid judgement on this item.”
Harran shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He opened the pouch at his side and withdrew the dragon conch, to a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’. “The item of inestimable worth!” declared Harran. He laid the dragon conch on the floor beside the ice axe.
Suddenly everything began to shimmer and whirl and Harran rose unsteadily. When he looked up, two things had changed. First, the pile of ordinary rocks was no longer ordinary. They were huge gold nuggets. Second, the lizardman next to the king was now a pleasant-looking dwarf.
It occurred to Harran suddenly that all the dwarves in the room were under a powerful magical spell, and now he was too! No wonder no one reacted to the lizardman’s presence! They didn’t see him as he was! As long as Harran had the conch shell in his possession, he saw things as they were, not as they appeared!
“Bring the other items to me, General,” ordered the king. “I will examine them up close.”
Manhar nodded down to Howell, who quickly stooped to pick up the magical items. He rose somewhat shakily and froze when he saw what Harran suspected he would see. The commander glanced briefly at Harran, who nodded in understanding.
Then Howell turned to the lizardman and charged, howling, “Imposter!”
General Manhar misunderstood and dropped the chain mail. He drew his axe to defend his king but Commander Howell never got close. The lizardman pointed a short staff he had hidden under his cloak and blasted the commander with a fireball. Howell was thrown backward with the impact, and the conch shell was knocked from his hand. It rolled to Harran’s feet.
The king was on his feet and spluttering in fury. Many of the assembled dwarves were on their feet as well. Manhar’s jaw hung open in surprise. He didn’t know what was going on.
Harran took charge at that point. On a sudden impulse, he picked up the dragon conch, raised it to his lips, and blew. The throne room shimmered and everything appeared as it should, the pile of ordinary rocks on the floor, and the lizardman standing beside the king.
Manhar recognized the threat and raised his sword to attack the lizardmage.
The lizardmage hissed and chanted a spell. As the sword came down, the lizardmage disappeared in a flash of sparkling dust.
Guards from every corner of the palace came running into the throne room, alerted by the sound of the dragon conch. Bravery and determination showed in their eyes.
Nobles murmured in confusion and the king continued to splutter, wild-eyed and confused.
“Silence!” bellowed Harran. The crowd quieted. Even the king became silent.
Harran turned and addressed the assembled dwarves.
“I was sent from the dwarven realm several weeks ago in shame and dishonour,” began Harran, loudly so everyone could hear. “It was partly because of a dispute with the king regarding the r
e-emergence of the lizardmen. He said I was under the influence of magic when I claimed to have encountered them at the boundaries of our realm. I showed their location on a map which I had given the king’s general to investigate. By then, the lizardmen no doubt returned and used magic to hide the passageway from the soldiers who went to investigate. They obviously couldn’t allow their presence to become known. Thus, the king sent me away in shame for misleading him, instead of investigating further. His mind was closed to the possibility that the lizardmen were back.
“In my travels through the human realm,” continued Harran, “I encountered evidence of the lizardmen’s re-emergence at the Tower of Hope, where a severe battle had taken place. I encountered those creatures again in the south as they emerged from the Five Fingers Mountains to prepare to strike at the elves. I and my companions, which included an elf, a centaur, a few humans, a minotaur, and a human dragon mage, prevented that force from following through with their plans by greatly disrupting the army before it could react.
“From there, we alerted the elven king of the danger, and he and the centaur king made plans to quash the remainder of the raiders before they could regroup.”
Some of the dwarven nobles were impressed with Harran’s story and murmured among themselves.
“Then,” continued Harran boldly, “my companions and I sailed north to find a way to end the vicious battle between the minotaurs and humans. The lizardmages were there too, manipulating the minotaur forces and their leader, who had become corrupt under the influence of the lizardmage advising him.” Harran turned to look at his king. “Not unlike the situation here, I might add.”
The king glared back defiantly.
“Then,” continued Harran, turning back to the assembled dwarves, “the minotaur in my group entered the minotaur election battles that were taking place. His goals were to stop the war, defeat the lizardmages who manipulated them (they have a strong sense of honour just like we do), and retake the throne that was his by birth. He succeeded.”
Murmurs of amazement rang through the throne room.
Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy Page 61