“Yes, of course,” Silas said impatiently. “But did anyone arrive with my mother’s ring—her wedding band?”
Robert’s face turned two shades paler. “Eh, as a matter of fact, your Majesty, there was one such woman.”
Silas could not hide the relief on his face, and he found himself smiling. He felt like a fool for despairing. Violet was a resourceful woman, and with Avani, a skilled warrior, by her side to provide protection, his fears had been premature. But then he realized Robert had seen Violet and not allowed her to have an audience with the king.
His smile faded. “Robert, where is the lady now?”
“Well, I—I’m not quite sure, your Majesty,” Robert replied, taking another hard swallow.
“What do you mean? Did you not let her in the palace to see the king?” Silas said, already knowing the answer, but feeling it necessary to teach the seneschal a lesson.
“I did not, my lord,” Robert said frankly.
Silas stepped closer to the man and watched as he shrunk a few inches in his presence. “Why not? She showed you the queen’s ring, a sign of my own authority,” Silas growled.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I thought it was a trick. Just another peasant woman trying to sneak inside the castle,” Robert admitted.
Silas glowered at the man and his petty prejudice. It was the exact attitude he hated amongst the nobility.
Before he could reprimand the seneschal further, King Alfryd stepped forward, which elicited another courteous bow from Robert.
“Robert, find the girl immediately. We wish to speak to her and her associate on a very urgent matter. And I’d advise you in the future not to be so critical of any subjects wishing to hold an audience with their king. Now go,” Alfryd said sternly.
Robert bowed again, turned on his heel quickly, and practically ran out of the throne room. Satisfied with the outcome of the situation, Silas excused himself from the meeting when they agreed to postpone any more strategic plans until they’d heard Naomi’s testimony. He walked out of the chamber and back to his own room on the third floor of the palace. Once inside he paced the room several times, praying to Yewa that the missing ladies would be found soon.
CHAPTER 6
THE DWARF KING
“Let’s get this over with,” Siegfried said brusquely. He stood next to a sapling with his arms crossed as Alistair eyed him curiously.
“Don’t worry, Master Siegfried. This won’t hurt at all. You might feel an itching sensation, but it will pass,” Alistair said, clutching his staff in both hands and holding it horizontally.
Siegfried rolled his eyes and nodded. Lucius tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t stop picturing his brother with a beak and feathers.
It took a good amount of convincing on Alistair’s part for the elf to finally agree to the transformation spell. Elves were very proud of their elegant appearances. Being turned into a chicken was not a decision taken lightly. Lucius asked Alistair if he could perhaps change him into something more regal like a falcon or a golden eagle. But the druid shook his head vigorously at the suggestion.
“A boy like you possessing a bird of prey as a pet would come off very suspiciously to the dwarves. Only nobles acquire such animals for hunting or competitions. A commoner owning such an animal would be very odd,” he said. “Furthermore, a pet chicken will highlight your lowly status, and the king will not see you as a threat. It’ll bring some levity to the weight of our meeting.”
“Levity indeed,” Siegfried remarked.
Alistair moved the staff in a circular motion, reciting an arcane language as he did so. Pale streams of light emitted from the wooden staff and spread out like long fingers toward Siegfried. The elf looked curiously at the light streams as they wrapped around his body. Alistair increased the speed of his motions, increasing the amount of light emanating around them. In a few seconds, Siegfried was enveloped in the light. Then Alistair yelled out the word, “Culoka!”
A sudden flash of light blinded Lucius, and he quickly covered his eyes. After a moment he put his hand down, squinting to see the spot where Siegfried had stood. He saw nothing save the sapling.
“Where is he? What happened?” Lucius asked, panic rising in his voice.
“Look behind the tree, Lucius,” Alistair said with a grin.
As soon as the words left the druid’s mouth, Lucius noticed the red and black plumage of a rooster as it strutted out from behind the sapling. Siegfried the rooster let out a loud crow, eliciting laughter from Lucius. He crouched down as the rooster approached him. “If only Father could see you now, Siegfried. I wonder if Quetulya would like a chicken as a Protector of Evingrad,” he said, chuckling. Siegfried cocked his head to the side in what looked like a glare, then quickly pecked Lucius’ hand. “Ouch! Don’t be such a grump. I was only joking,” Lucius cried.
“All right, it’s time to meet with the king. Lucius, pick up Siegfried and hold him close,” Alistair said.
“Didn’t you see him peck me just now? I don’t trust him to hold his beak,” Lucius said, scowling at the elvish chicken.
Siegfried, pleased with causing him injury, flapped his wings excitedly.
“Now, now, no more silliness between the two of you. We have an important mission ahead of us. Do you remember how we are to proceed when we meet the king, Lucius?”
“Yes. You will do all the talking and try to convince him to let us travel through the Elder Gate,” Lucius said, reciting everything the druid had told him earlier.
“And if he doesn’t cooperate?” Alistair asked with a finger raised.
“You will distract him while Siegfried and I take the winding stairs in the adjacent room to the tunnels below until we reach the fork.” He paused for a moment, trying to recall the next part of the plan. I’ll take the tunnel…to the right, then follow it for a hundred yards where the Elder Gate lies,” Lucius said slowly.
“Excellent,” Alistair replied.
Lucius picked up Siegfried gently, fearing another peck from the disgruntled rooster.
“And what about the command?” Alistair prompted, one eyebrow raised.
The command? Lucius forgot the stupid command. It was some ancient word that meant “grant passage,” but now he was racking his brain trying to remember it.
“The command is…drufle?” he said, his voice trailing off in a whisper.
“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Alistair said.
“Durgal,” Lucius said with a false sense of confidence.
The druid’s lips turned downward. “No, Lucius, that is incorrect. ‘Durgal’ is the dwarvish word for excrement. The correct word is ‘dergstant.’”
“Right. Dergstant,” he said, deflated.
Siegfried cocked his rooster head to the side and gave him what he could only sense was a sardonic glance.
“Like you remembered the word?” Lucius whispered.
“We’d best be off. The dwarves don’t see visitors after noon is past, and we must be early,” Alistair cautioned.
They gathered their packs and set out for the entrance of Djoulmir, which was on the western slope of Raven’s Peak. The dirt path they traveled on was several hundred feet above the marshland that bordered the mountain. Lucius could feel the climb getting steeper as they wound around the base of the mountain. It wasn’t a difficult ascent, and Lucius found that he enjoyed the picturesque scenery around them. From the high elevation he saw the entirety of the Grey Swamps stretching for a dozen miles westward until the land transitioned into the green hills of northern Marsolas. The autumn trees of the Burning Forest were barely visible from this distance, but he could make out their copper leaves. He thought of Sil for a moment, wondering how the faerie was faring in the forest now without the threat of banshees.
As they circled the base for another mile, Lucius watched the sights change slowly. He viewed the far eastern lands of Kroshen, where the Talij lived. It was a barren desert with little to offer travelers except hostility from the n
omadic peoples and death from thirst. To the north, he made out the small silhouettes of a mountain range, the Maguna Mountains of Ghadarya. He prayed to Yewa he’d never have to travel to that forsaken land. No one he’d known had ever traveled to the canyons of the dragons. The dragons patrolled their borders fiercely, and any army wishing to disturb them would be met with a timely end. He wondered dreadfully if this journey would eventually lead him to that evil place. As the Ellyllei he had come to terms with the fact that he would face many unpleasant trials in the near future. Facing Kraegyn would certainly be the worst challenge of all, and that might mean infiltrating the Black Dragon’s home. He hoped it would not come to that.
Lucius imagined their first encounter would be on a battlefield somewhere with his allies close at hand. Men like Silas Dermont and his Drachengarde would surely aid him in the fight. In the heat of the battle, Lucius would run the Requiem Sword straight through Kraegyn’s dark heart before the dragon knew what hit him. Then the world would return to the safe place he always knew it to be. He, Siegfried, and Helmer could retire in the serenity of the Breninmaur, no longer worrying about dragons, Draknoir, or evil beings like Sêrhalon. It was foolish thinking, of course. Life wasn’t so simple. But part of him clung to the hope that perhaps it could be.
“There it is,” Alistair said, pointing ahead of them. “The Door of Djoulmir.”
Lucius followed his gaze and saw a huge bronze door inlaid with gemstones along its edges. In the center of the gate was a large golden dwarf’s head. The dwarf head wore a crown with a diamond set just above the forehead. A stern and foreboding look marked the dwarf’s face, not at all an expression of welcome. Two sentries were guarding either side of the entrance. Each sentry held a large double-bladed axe and wore silver plated armor which shone brightly in the sunlight. The sentries likely saw them approaching, but they stood still as statues. Siegfried gave a few anxious clucks, then jumped down from Lucius’ arms.
“Siegfried! What are you doing?” Lucius said, watching the rooster trot ahead of them a few feet.
“It’s all right. I think he’s just trying to play the part,” Alistair said. “It’s very odd for a rooster to be coddled like a child. They enjoy roaming.”
Lucius shrugged and continued onward with Siegfried leading them to the door. From far off the entrance looked impressive, set boldly into the mountainside and catching the sun’s rays brilliantly. As they drew closer, Lucius realized the Door of Djoulmir was far larger than he first thought. It stood at least nine feet tall, making the dwarfs guarding it appear miniscule beside it.
“Halt,” the sentry on the right commanded. “What business have ye in Djoulmir?”
Alistair cleared his throat, then smiled broadly. “We have come to visit the King of the Eternal Mines: his Majesty, King Balfour.”
“No one may see the king without prior approval,” the sentry said.
“But I am a dear friend. Don’t you recognize me, Norbul? It is I, Big Al.”
Norbul squinted his eyes as he scrutinized the old man. He immediately let out a booming laugh when recognition dawned on him. “Big Al! It’s been months since I’ve seen ye. Sorry, we’ve been standing here too long. The sun must be hurting our vision.”
His companion nodded in agreement. “I told Norbul it was you when I sees you from afar, but he didn’t believe me!”
“It’s quite all right. Mistakes happen to the best of us. Now can we—?”
“Wait a moment. Who’s this with you?” the other sentry asked.
Alistair frowned, then turned to Lucius as though he hadn’t known someone else stood beside him. “Oh, right. This is my assistant, Mr. Lucius of Sylvania.”
“And the chicken?” Norbul asked, watching Siegfried dart around their feet.
“It’s mine. He’s a pet,” Lucius said quickly.
The dwarf shot him a puzzled look, but said nothing more.
After a minute of idle conversation about the weather, Alistair and Lucius were allowed inside. Norbul tapped the door five times and recited something in dwarvish before the huge door creaked to life. It swung inward, revealing a dark tunnel that led inside the bowels of Raven’s Peak.
“Off ye go then,” Norbul said. “And watch that chicken. The king might be feeling a bit hungry and choose to have the cook make him a stew,” the sentry laughed heartily.
Lucius gave a bemused smile as they walked into the tunnel.
A few steps inside and the bronze gate swung back of its own volition. A loud boom echoed in the darkness as it shut them in. Everything around them was pitch black for a moment until Lucius’ eyes adjusted to the flickering light of torches set every ten paces apart. The reflection of the fire on the polished stone of the interior gave the tunnel an eerie glow.
They walked for several feet into a deep descent, eventually reaching an archway. Passing the threshold of the arch, Lucius stopped to take in the breathtaking view. They stood on a huge landing with stairs to their left. Below them he could see thousands of lights where the city of Djoulmir lay inside the mountain. The dwarves had carved out a vast section of the mountain’s interior, creating stone buttresses to hold the weight of the solid rock above their city. Trenches within the stone acted like roadways, and multiple entrances were cut into the rocks to create what looked like dwarven homes.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Alistair asked.
Lucius nodded, overwhelmed by the dwarves’ superior craftsmanship. Siegfried, unable to see the impressive sight over the stone railing, continued down the stairs. The rooster hopped down awkwardly onto each step with his chicken feet.
They followed him down the steep stairs which wound down a cliff face. Several minutes passed and Lucius felt his legs getting tired from the effort. They seemed to be going down miles of stairs to reach the bottom of the mountain.
Before he had a chance to groan about the strain on his shins, they reached the final landing. Another archway stood ahead and beyond it, one of the trenches Lucius had seen from above. The trenches served as streets for the citizens of Djoulmir. Dwarves walked along the road in all directions, turning at intersections in the trench toward unknown destinations.
The network of trenches reminded Lucius of a toy labyrinth Helmer had given to him as a boy. Siegfried would catch field mice and place them inside the labyrinth, and Lucius watched in amusement as the little rodents tried to find the exit. But Djoulmir was far larger and infinitely more complex than any toy.
“The king’s hall is at the end of this street, beyond the apex,” Alistair said, walking ahead of him.
“The apex?” Lucius asked. He struggled to keep up with the druid, who suddenly walked faster than any elder person should.
“Up there,” Alistair said, gesturing with his staff above them. Lucius saw only the darkness of the empty chasm the dwarves had created in the mountain. “We’re below the apex of Raven’s Peak. The dwarves dug beneath the tip and left natural stone columns to hold its weight.”
Lucius glanced around, once again noticing the hundreds of rock pillars that bore the mountain’s heft. They were spaced twenty feet apart from each other, and their bases joined with the tops of the rock trenches they traversed. Around them, several dwarves began taking notice of the odd strangers, specifically the small rooster jogging by Alistair’s feet.
The walls of the trench were a black polished stone, and every so often doorways were cut into the stone. Lucius peered inside one of the open doors where a glowing hearth lit the interior. The dwelling resembled a tavern of some sort where dwarves were laughing and gathered around a long table stocked with tankards. Many doorways were shut with wrought iron doors. Others had strange symbols carved above the threshold. Upon inspecting one of these, Lucius realized it was a shop that sold jars and earthenware. The symbols denoted the various trades among the dwarves.
The street ended at another archway that led further into the mountain. This time there wasn’t an immense staircase to descend. Instead they walked down
a winding tunnel lit by torches like their initial entrance to Djoulmir. Various dwarven symbols were etched in the stone of the tunnel along the walls and ceiling. When they exited the passage, there was a narrow hallway that opened up into a large room. The room held a dozen statues, six on each side of the main walkway. The statues were of dwarves dressed in battle armor. Each held an axe which rested either on their shoulders or beside them on the ground.
“The kings of Djoulmir—all twelve of Ulfr’s kin,” Alistair said softly.
Like the dwarf face on the Door of Djoulmir, the kings were all grim-faced and stoic to an almost unsettling degree. Lucius felt as though their stares were boring into his very soul, conscious of their plan to sneak into an Elder Gate.
Once they passed the last set of kings, they walked through yet another archway, but it was far more ornate than the previous ones they had seen. Along the outline of the arch, numerous jewels were set into the stone. Sapphires, rubies, diamonds, and topaz gems shone brightly in the torchlight.
No wonder the dwarves protected their halls from spells of concealment, Lucius thought. One could scarcely go several feet without finding treasure to steal.
Lucius followed Alistair through the archway, and they stood inside the throne room of King Balfour. The king sat on a dais, and his throne was carved from the rock that also served as the far wall of the room. A trio of guards noticed them and held their axes tighter. But the king sat still, offering a thin smile.
“Big Al, you have returned to Djoulmir! It’s been a long time, old friend,” Balfour said. The dwarf had a gray mane that matched his long scruffy beard. His nose was bulbous and wide like the rest of his folk. The king’s eyes were a faded blue, set deep into his face which bore numerous wrinkles and faint scars from an untold number of battles.
“It hasn’t been too long, I hope,” Alistair replied, approaching the throne and bowing slightly.
Lucius remained close to the archway and urged Siegfried to do the same. The little rooster was clucking softly and darting his head around, taking in the grand throne room. Banners bearing similar symbols to those in the tunnel hung all around the room along with more gemstones. The dwarves really loved their gems. A large golden candelabrum hung from a chain hammered into the rock ceiling. Its many candles illuminated the room spectacularly despite the fact that they were miles underground.
Gauntlet of Iniquity (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 2) Page 6