“As I was saying,” the prince said, “both this king of the dragons and your friend here have every reason for you to do what you’re doing. They’re fighting for their very survival, and they need help. The question really is, in whom do you trust?”
“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.
“Well, let us compare the Tower with the dragons,” Conall continued. “The Tower has been in the service of the empire for thousands of years. Moreover, Max here is actually a blood descendant of the Tower—and a magic user at that. You’ve never sat with Rezormoor Dreadbringer, I assume. You’ve never heard from his lips what he wants from you—what his side of the story might be?”
“We know Princess the Unicorn works for him,” Max objected. “And Princess pretty much destroyed our entire world. Or at least she will . . . in the future. Maybe, if we don’t stop her now.” Max was getting frustrated with his inability to make a point. “She’s a very bad unicorn!” he finally exclaimed.
“I see. So she is your enemy,” Conall said, “but do you know for a fact that she serves the Tower? Is it possible this bad unicorn ignored what she was hired to do and went off on her own? What if she was simply sent by the Tower to find you and bring you back?”
Max didn’t like where this was going. It had been so clear who his friends and enemies were, but now Prince Goldilocks was confusing everything.
“You are connected to the Tower by blood,” Conall continued. “I am connected to Mor Luin by blood. We each serve because that is who we are in a very literal sense—they are in us. To turn against something that is so much a part of you? That is not an insignificant choice. Perhaps your true quest lies not in defeating the Tower but in joining it?”
“It doesn’t change anything,” Max replied. “I still have to go to the Wizard’s Tower and fix the Codex, somebody sent a Shadrus necromancer after us, and Princess is still hunting me.”
“Then come with me. You’ll find all the allies you need in Mor Luin,” Conall offered. “If you truly have the Codex, bring it to my father. We’ll take it to the Tower together and you’ll have an army to protect you.”
“Max, that’s not a bad idea,” Sarah said. “We don’t have to do this alone.”
“We don’t have to do anything,” Max said. “I’m the one who has to go. And right now I’d rather just do it myself.” Max spurred his pony forward and moved ahead of the group.
“I didn’t mean to offend him,” Conall said to Sarah.
“No, it’s okay,” Sarah replied. “I think it was important for him to hear what you have to say. Things have been hard for us, that’s all.”
“You saved me,” Conall said, tipping his head. “And for that I will be in your debt forever.”
Outside the towering main entrance to Jiilk, Dwight had led the group to a stable, where their mounts were fed and watered. He then excused himself, grabbing a bag and disappearing behind the structure. When he returned he was wearing a long, thick beard. He held up his hand before anyone could say anything.
“I was cast out of the city,” Dwight said. “I was forced to shave because of it. If we’re to go in and get resupplied, I can’t be recognized.”
“Dude, you totally look like a dwarf now,” Dirk replied.
“Because I am a dwarf,” Dwight spat. “So get your gawking over with and let’s get this done.” It had been decided that Conall and Sir Maron would stay with Puff and watch over the mounts and their gear. Conall had complained that the dwarf king would receive a prince of Mor Luin and they would be treated as honored guests, but Max and his friends thought it was better if they kept a low profile. Once Sarah insisted it was a good idea Conall politely agreed.
They walked into the side of a towering mountain, surrounded by huge dwarf statues that marked the entrance to the city.
“The first dwarf kin,” Dwight announced, trying to keep his mind off the growing anxiety he felt as the world closed in around him. “We call them the Seven.”
“The Seven? Really, dude?” Dirk asked.
Dwight frowned. “What of it?”
“The Seven Dwarfs?” Dirk said, laughing. “Your big dwarf heroes are called the Seven Dwarfs.”
“You better watch what you say next,” Dwight threatened. But Dirk had found a statue with a stern expression and pointed to it.
“Hey, look, it’s Grumpy!” he exclaimed. “And over there, that must be Bashful.”
“Nobody mocks the Seven,” Dwight yelled, running after Dirk. Dirk took off and they disappeared into the crowd ahead.
“Do you think he’ll catch him this time?” Sarah asked.
“Nobody runs as fast as Dirk,” Max replied. “If people could catch him, he would have been pulverized years ago.”
Sarah nodded as they passed beneath the shadow of the mountain’s entrance.
When they found Dirk and Dwight, they were standing outside a tavern with a sign that showed a human knight with a fish head. Dirk was smiling and looking around, while Dwight was bent over and taking deep breaths, his hands on his knees.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dwight said before any of them could ask questions. “We’ll go in here—nobody knows me.” The dwarf straightened and walked purposefully through the tavern door. Dirk shrugged and the others followed him in.
The first thing Max noticed was that for a dwarf bar, there were practically no dwarfs inside. Dwight motioned for them to take a seat while he went to converse with the tavern’s owner about supply options. Dirk, Max, and Sarah found a table near the back of the room.
“This is awesome,” Dirk said, looking around. “A real dwarf tavern.”
“Without any dwarfs,” Sarah added.
From across the room, Loki blinked several times, noticing for the first time the group of humans. He reached over and shook the napping Moki awake. “That’s him—it has to be!” he whispered excitedly. He gave himself a vigorous fur licking, cleared his throat, and made his way over to the table with Moki in tow.
“Excuse me, sir,” Loki announced, bowing.
“A talking cat!” Sarah exclaimed, unable to help herself. Loki grimaced, trying not to let his irritation show.
“Fire kitten, to be more exact,” Loki continued. “I am Loki and this is my companion Moki. We’re strangers here, looking for a friendly face. Might we join you?”
Max didn’t think it was a good idea, but he could tell Sarah had made up her mind the moment she saw them.
“Of course you can,” she said. Moki and Loki jumped up onto an empty chair. Moki then lay flat so Loki could sit on him and reach the table.
“Now, that’s just adorable,” Sarah said. “But are you sure he doesn’t mind you sitting on him like that?”
“It’s his life’s dream to be so useful,” Loki replied before he could get Moki’s opinion on the matter. “In any case, what brings such a distinguished group to the Fish-Faced Human? Traveling?”
“We’re on our way to the Wizard’s Tower,” Dirk said. Both Sarah and Max elbowed him at the same time. “It’s just a couple of cats. They’re probably just curious,” Dirk complained. “Besides, who are they going to tell?”
“Certainly not the mice,” Moki added from his spot under Loki. “They’re the biggest blabbermouths around.”
“Now, don’t worry, our lips are sealed,” Loki said. “It just so happens we’re headed in the same direction. By the way, I heard the strangest talk from a druid not long ago. Says he was here to announce the arrival of the boy who could read the book—you haven’t heard anything about that, have you?” It only took a second for Loki to catch the uncomfortable look that spread across the three humans’ faces—and the fact that two of them cast quick glances at the chubby dark-haired boy sitting at the table. Loki had found his prize.
“Uh, never heard that one before,” Max said. “A boy who can read a book? Doesn’t sound like something you go around bragging about.”
Loki grinned and turned the conversation to other things, taking n
ote of their names as they introduced themselves. So the boy who could read the book was called Max Spencer. Loki wasn’t about to forget that name. Dwight soon appeared at the table, dropping into his seat and putting a large mug down with a thud. He opened his mouth, about to speak, but then noticed the two fire kittens.
“Uh, there’re two fire kittens at our table,” Dwight said. “Why are there two fire kittens at our table?”
“Oh, just fellow travelers is all,” Loki replied.
Dwight grunted, turning to the others. He looked pale and was sweating, but he was doing a decent job holding himself together. “The innkeeper will take care of our resupplies. I had to give him a bit of a tip, but if he does all the legwork, that will save us time and get us on our way.”
“Speaking of which,” Loki said, “fire kittens are highly prized as travel companions in cold weather. We can easily heat an entire tent just by ourselves. Any chance you’d allow us to accompany you north?”
Dwight grimaced at that. “Sorry, but we don’t need—”
“Of course you can come with us,” Sarah said. And the way she said it left no doubt.
“This is a mistake,” Dwight added as he started to rise. Not having worn a long beard for some time, however, Dwight hadn’t seen that the end of his beard had fallen over the table. Nor had he seen that his mug had been set right on top of it. When he stood, his beard pulled away from his face and the mug tipped over, crashing to the floor. There were several gasps, and the entire room went silent. The innkeeper pointed at Dwight from across the room.
“You dare shame us with a false beard!” he roared.
“Hey, what’s the big deal?” Dirk said, looking around. “I used a magic marker to color in a mustache during seventh grade. Nobody even knew.”
“We all knew,” Max said.
Two burly dwarf guards pushed their way through the crowd and surrounded Dwight.
“Beard falsification is a serious crime,” one of them announced.
“You’ll have to answer to the king for that,” the second added.
The two guards grabbed Dwight and began dragging him out. “Find my father,” Dwight shouted as Max and the others stood. “He runs the Tearful Troll.”
“I bet that’s another tavern,” Dirk said.
“Uh . . . not quite,” Loki replied.
Princess passed through Bazel—the city at the foot of Hammer’s Hilt Bridge—without incident. Word of the attack had traveled fast, most likely by pyro pigeons sent out from Issir’s Tower to every other one across the Seven Kingdoms. She heard the gossip in the streets, but there were no descriptions of a unicorn and a wizard, so it appeared they had gotten away unseen. Mor Luin had posted a very large bounty on her head after her first bout of rampaging, and she’d had to deal with pompous knights on at least one occasion before.
Still in her human form, Princess discreetly checked the Gossamer Gimbal. It pointed almost perfectly east. “Jiilk, the Dwarven capital,” she said with a smile. “That’s where they are.”
“Do we risk entering the city?” Magar asked. “The dwarfs are not an enemy we want right now. Getting the boy out could be messy.”
“It’s not the dwarfs so much as their high mage,” Princess said, thinking it over. “I met her once, and she’s far more capable then she lets on.” Magar raised an eyebrow at that—it wasn’t often Princess showed anything but disdain for Tower-trained spell casters.
“Then what do you suggest?”
“We’ll circle around,” Princess said. “We’ll go north and set an ambush.”
On the ergodic elixir
ONE MIGHT WONDER HOW IT came to be that representatives from each of the schools of magic (authorized and unauthorized) gathered to create a potion of unspeakable power. So powerful, in fact, that it was well understood that under no circumstances should anyone even attempt to handle it—let alone drink it. Nevertheless, for academic-leaning spell casters, the idea of concocting something so terrifically bad that it shouldn’t exist was a worthwhile challenge.
With funding in place from the Kingdom of Turul (who had a grant specifically for the unspeakably dangerous) the band of spell casters began work on the Ergodic Elixir. It required five years to finish (fortunately the spell casters had both a large supply of interns and gratuitous-death and dismemberment release forms.)
Deemed too dangerous to exist upon its successful completion, the Ergodic Elixir was hidden away (and presumably remains so to this day).
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FROM ZERO TO HERO
THE TEARFUL TROLL WASN’T A tavern at all. Loki, who had some knowledge of the Dwarven city, offered to lead the group to the small, nondescript building. Outside hung a sign. It was adorned with a troll, its head lowered and a single tear glistening near its eye. As they were about to go inside, the door suddenly flew open. A dwarf walked out, blowing his nose into a handkerchief with a resounding honk.
“My pa always wanted me to be a miner,” he announced to no one in particular. “But in my heart I’ve always wanted to dance.” The dwarf blew his nose again. “I’m not made of granite, you know. I’m delicate and full of life, like a beautiful swan that just wants to fly.” The dwarf pushed past the group and walked slowly down the street.
“Apparently he likes to dance,” Dirk noted.
“Just what kind of place is this?” Max asked.
Loki cleared his throat. “A place you go to talk about your problems.”
“You mean like a therapist?” Sarah said.
“Wait just a second,” Dirk said. “Dwarfs are tavern owners, blacksmiths, soldiers, and miners. They are definitely not therapists.”
“Apparently Dwight’s dad is,” Sarah said, moving to the door. Max hurried and opened it for her.
Inside was a small, sparse office with several diplomas hanging on the wall. Max looked them over.
“They’re in English,” he said, surprised that he could read them.
“The Techrus is the only place that offers these kinds of things,” Loki said.
Max nodded—he supposed that made sense. “Weird,” he announced after reading one such diploma. “Dwight’s dad has a degree in animal husbandry.”
“Ah, that would be for orc marriage counseling,” Loki said.
Max read the name on the diploma: Bartholomew Prodding.
“But you can call me Bart,” a voice called out. Max turned to find a heavyset dwarf looking up at him and smiling. He was dressed in a blue Techrus-style sweat suit with white sneakers. “Welcome to the Tearful Troll. You’ve got a problem, I’ve got a listening ear.”
“I got problems,” Dirk answered. “All kinds of problems.”
“We really don’t have time for that,” Sarah said. “Sir, do you happen to a have a son named Dwight?”
At the mention of the name, Bart’s face suddenly fell. “I’m sorry,” he said, “did I forget to mention that we close early today? Perhaps you could come back some other time.”
“We’re friends of his,” Sarah pressed on. “But I think he’s in trouble.”
Bart scratched at his long beard. “There really isn’t anything I can do. My son’s not even in this realm.”
“No, he’s here,” Dirk said. That seemed to surprise the dwarf, who walked over to a chair and flopped down.
“Here?” Bart asked. “But he’d never come here. Not after being branded an outcast.”
“He’s here because of me,” Max said. “We’re all here because of me, and it’s really a long story. But now they’ve arrested Dwight and charged him with wearing a fake beard or something—”
“A fake beard?” Bart gasped. “He’ll be sentenced to the mines for sure. This is horrible news. But what can I do?”
“He told us to find you,” Max said.
Bart seemed surprised at that. “They’ll take him before the king right away, so we’ll need to hurry.”
The Hall of Judgment was an enormous cavern. A long, solitary walkway led to a tall throne,
where the dwarf king sat. On either side of the throne were pillars carved as giant war hammers, inclined so that they appeared to be ready to fall on anyone found unworthy. Stone benches lined the far walls so citizens of Jiilk could watch the king’s justice being dispensed.
Max and the others followed Bart into the viewing area, where they moved to get a seat as close to the front as possible. Max could see the king on his throne, dressed in black-and-gold armor, his long white beard knotted and running nearly to his knees. His equally white hair was pulled back tight and tied in a knot, and his eyes were like two hard diamonds.
Dwight walked in chains down the long walkway, his fake beard hanging haphazardly from the side of his face. He was still wearing his armor and his axe hung on his back.
“A king who lets you carry a weapon is not the kind of king who’s afraid of much,” Dirk said.
“I don’t think that’s a good sign,” Sarah added.
“Not every sign says stop,” Glenn piped up from Max’s belt. “Flip it around and it’s just an octagon stuck on a pole.”
“Oh nice, Glenn,” Max said to his magical dagger. “I forgot you were even here.”
“It’s fine,” Glenn said. “I do all kinds of crazy stuff when you’re asleep.”
Bart shushed them as Dwight was taken before the king.
“Am I to understand that you are Dwight of House Prodding?”
“I am,” Dwight said. Max could see his friend looked pale and was drenched in sweat. It was the claustrophobia, Max was sure, but it made Dwight look awfully guilty.
“And as Dwight of House Prodding, was it not my decree that you were banished from Jiilk?”
“It was,” Dwight said.
“And further,” the king continued, his voice filling the cavernous room, “you not only disobeyed my command, but you did so by donning a false beard and sneaking back into my city!”
“I did.”
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