by Sam Ferguson
Eventually they made it back to the same spot in the forest where Forlean had found him sneaking in. He wasn’t sure whether he expected Forlean to find him again, but he did pause in that same grouping of trees for an hour or so. Finally resigning himself to the fact that they would not meet again in the forest, he moved along the forest floor.
He found a hollow with an earthen overhang that was just big enough for him and his drake next to a fallen oak tree with massive roots still clinging to much of the dirt it had ripped up when it had fallen. The two of them spent the night there, without any fire or supper. He didn’t want to draw any attention to them.
The next morning he rose before the sun. His breath formed small crystals in the air as he yawned and stretched. His drake sensed his movement and also woke. “No, you stay here,” Hermean said. “If I am not back by sundown, you return without me.”
The drake cocked its head to the side and snorted softly.
“No, I mean it,” Hermean said with a warning finger. “If I fail, you will have to inform Gorliad.”
The drake snorted again and slowly settled its head down and curled it back over his legs. Hermean patted the beast on the back and then slipped out into the forest.
He moved quietly, slipping past a prowling black bear and eventually arriving at the lower entrance. He looked up and saw the tree cover still screened the entrance from above. A pair of guards stood at the entrance. He didn’t recognize either of them. That was a good turn of fortune though, for it meant they would not question him. To them he would just be another hunter.
The dwarf took a couple of breaths to steady his nerves and then emerged from the bushes. The two guards jumped and lowered their poleaxes.
“Who goes there?” the one on the left said.
“It’s alright, I am just coming back from patrol,” Hermean said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
The two guards looked to each other briefly. Then the first one asked, “Are you a hunter?”
Hermean nodded and strode up to them, forcing confidence out over his nerves. He didn’t want to fight his way into the mountain if he could avoid it.
“By the scars of Algearon’s shoulder, we have sworn allegiance to the true prince,” the second guard said.
Hermean hesitated. His eyes darted from one to the other. “Of course,” he said. “As have we all.” If his answer displeased them, they didn’t show it. The two guards nodded and motioned for him to enter.
One of the guards remained at the gate while the other followed two paces behind Hermean. The hairs on the hunter’s neck rose, but there was nothing he could do now. He just had to reach Dalean in the prep room.
Casually he glanced over his shoulder and the guard smiled at him with bright white teeth.
The smile did little to assuage Hermean’s uneasiness.
They passed by several more guard stations. At each successive station one guard would rise and join in behind Hermean. With each additional guard, sweat started to build under his armpits and over his palms. Still, he pushed onward, hoping that they would lose interest if he just continued to act normal.
They went up the tunnel quite a ways, passing a few doors as they walked. One of the guards cleared his throat and slammed a gauntleted fist over his chest.
Hermean stopped and turned. “Are you alright?” he asked. The guard smiled again and all of them stopped walking. Hermean glanced at all of them. “I am sorry, what is the matter?” he asked. “I am a hunter, I know we don’t come back from the field much, but is it so strange to see one of us?”
“Actually it is,” the first guard said. All of the guards readied their weapons. “You see, the hunters were disbanded by High Queen Siravel ten years ago. Their captain proved false, and a traitor. Afterward, each and every hunter was either cast into the dungeons or slain.”
“Ah maggots,” Hermean cursed under his breath. His hand twitched, instinctively wanting to reach for the axe.
A point pressed into the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t make any sudden movement if I were you,” someone said from behind.
Hermean held his hands out to the side. Something slammed into the back of his head and all went dark. He felt something grab a hold of him as his body went limp, but then everything was gone.
When he opened his eyes next, he sat in a crude wooden chair behind a tanning rack. The smell of various chemicals made him sneeze. He shook his head and blinked his eyes trying to banish the rest of the bleariness.
“You get used to the smells,” someone said. Hermean looked up and saw a dwarf with no arms walking toward him. The dwarf sat down in a nearby chair and took a knife in between his toes. Hermean had seen this man before. Gorliad had shown him this dwarf. What was his name, Boein? No, that wasn’t it. Maybe it was Borenid. No, that didn’t sound right either.
“Boneian,” the dwarf said. “That is the name you are looking for.”
Hermean opened his mouth. “How did you know I was…” he didn’t finish his question before Boneian smiled and gestured with his chin to something beyond the tanning rack.
Hermean craned his neck around, and then realizing that he was not tied to the chair he stood up. Algearon stood a few meters away talking to a few of the guards that had followed Hermean into the mountain. Algearon turned and smiled.
“Hermean, it has been a long time,” Algearon said with a smile.
“They are yours, then? Hermean asked of the guards.
“Sorry for the lump,” one of the guards said. “Can’t be too careful.”
Algearon shushed the guards and approached. “I am afraid a lot has happened since the last time you were in the kingdom.” Algearon pursed his lips and then turned his mouth into a frown and sighed. He fidgeted with his thumbs and shook his head.
“Forlean is dead,” Hermean said for Algearon.
Algearon nodded. “When he was here, he slew a drone. Siravel found it, and then destroyed all of the hunters.”
“All of them?” Hermean asked. He stumbled backward to fall into the chair. Algearon walked around the tanning rack and came into view again.
“Some are still in the dungeons, I think, but I can’t be sure how many of them yet live.”
“Why would the queen do such a thing?”
Algearon knelt before Hermean and sighed gravely. “Forlean ate an herb that addled his mind. Siravel could never find out why he had snuck into the mountain and stolen the rubies. So, knowing that he had killed a drone and stolen from the council chamber, she killed him. She then relentlessly hunted all of the other hunters. She tried to search their minds. Unfortunately, some of the hunters had joined our order, those of us who serve Gorliad, the true prince. Those hunters ate the same herb that Forlean had, addling their minds and protecting the rest of us who serve Gorliad. Unfortunately, this only fueled her paranoia. She became convinced that even if she could catch a hunter and read their mind, that somehow they had powers to deceive her. She destroyed the order.”
Hermean slumped forward and let his face fall into his upturned hands.
Algearon stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. “There are still those of us loyal to the cause. There are more of us now than ever, in fact.”
Hermean pushed Algearon back and looked up at the royal hatcher through teary eyes. “Why?” he asked. “Why would anyone here care what Gorliad does? Why risk your lives for a kingdom you can never see, and never be a part of?”
Algearon smiled. “So he is establishing a kingdom then?”
Hermean arched a brow and leaned back into the chair, folding his arms. “I begged Forlean to come with me.”
Algearon nodded. “There have been many wrongs done in this mountain.” Algearon sighed again. “The expeditionary forces have tripled in size, and have assumed the responsibilities formerly undertaken by the hunters.”
“Siravel does not suspect you?” Hermean asked.
Algearon shrugged. “She has done nothing to me yet, but the idea does keep me awake at night.�
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“So why be involved?” Hermean pressed again. “What can you hope to achieve?”
“I suppose for us it is enough to know that we have helped create a better world.” He turned and pointed at Boneian. “It started small, of course. Dwarves that had, or had known, handicapped children were the first to join us. They thought that by defying tradition, and Siravel, that it would make up for past wrongs and complacencies. It grew from there. Some came for the injustice they saw, others came because they sensed that Gorliad could provide something beyond this class-based life we have now.”
“Yet none of you have ever left,” Hermean pointed out.
“Like I said, for us it is enough to know that we have helped create a better world. Perhaps we didn’t brave the outside dangers like you and the other dwarves with you, but we have fought tooth and nail for you all. Had it not been for us, you would not have had the rubies you needed to heal Gorliad, am I wrong?”
Hermean shook his head. “You are correct.”
“I am also willing to wager you have returned because you need something else,” Algearon said. “This is why we stay. We are here to support in whatever way we can.”
Hermean nodded.
Algearon knelt down again and there was a twinkling smile in his eye. “Now tell me, what kind of mountain has Gorliad found? What kind of society has he built?”
Hermean smiled back warmly. “It is a place that Forlean would have been honored to die for,” he said. He spent the next several minutes explaining their journey to the mountain, the fights and monsters, and then the kingdom they built. Other dwarves gathered around, wide grins on their faces as they listened. When Hermean finished, Algearon nodded and clapped his hands.
“Our prince is a hatchling no longer. He is a king.”
Hermean then stood and shook his head. “Actually, he is king in name only. No matter what we do, he cannot seem to banish the children of the void from our lands. We prosper, and he protects us, but we cannot venture out from the mountain without suffering an attack.”
Algearon nodded. “We must go to the prince’s chamber then,” he said.
Hermean folded his arms and nodded once. “I need to know what has to be done.”
Algearon smiled. “We are in luck. Today is one of the cleaning days. I can smuggle you into the chamber underneath the cleaning supplied. We won’t be able to take anything out of the chamber though, for I am the only dwarf that has access. They will know I helped you.”
“So I should study everything carefully, then Gorliad can read my mind and discover the rites for himself.”
Algearon smiled and nodded. “Let’s move. Guards, back to your posts.”
*****
Geldryn woke from his slumber and stretched his wings. He rose to his feet and shook out his neck. The king looked up to the mural above him and sighed. He stared at the image for a few minutes, and then a noise caught his attention. It was a strange echo up from the hall below his chamber.
His curiosity piqued he moved silently down the hall. Even despite his size, he was nearly silent when walking. He stalked down the tunnel without rousing the sentry from the guard chamber near to his own den. Again he heard something from down the hall. He could tell it was coming from the prince’s chamber. He thought for a moment and remembered that it was Algearon’s appointed time to clean the chamber.
Deciding that there was nothing amiss, he almost started to hurry his pace to speak with the royal hatcher about his son, Beleriad. The young dragon was coming along splendidly and increasing in skill each and every day. In a mountain where his wife looked at everyone sideways, and distanced herself from him, he relished talking about his son’s accomplishments. However, he heard something else that gave him pause. There was a whisper coming from the prince’s chamber, and it came from a voice he could not place.
The king stalked down the tunnel and slowly moved his head toward the opening to peer inside. Algearon was the first dwarf he saw, but there was a second. The second was quickly running through various large books and crystals kept along the stone altar. Geldryn, intrigued by this development, watched to see what it was the two dwarves were after.
Perhaps his queen had been right all these years. If even Algearon could conspire against them, then maybe there was a dwarf uprising, or one of the lesser queens perhaps worked covertly for a rival king. Whatever it was, he was going to let this treachery play out before him. Then, once he knew the facts, he would seize both dwarves and scour their minds. He knew he would have to be careful though, for Siravel had told him of the hunters and their strange flower.
He pulled himself up close to the wall and steadied his breathing, making no noise whatsoever as he watched the pair rummage through the items on the altar.
“What are we looking for?” the stranger asked.
Algearon shook his head. “I don’t know exactly,” Algearon replied. “This is usually something that a king teaches a prince. With that in mind, it would likely be in one of these crystals.”
“But we can’t take a crystal back to Gorliad,” the other whispered harshly.
Gorliad! Geldryn could hardly believe his ears. His son was alive, and not only that, but the presence of this strange dwarf made it appear as though he had dwarves with him. Geldryn’s chest filled with fire, not out of anger, but of joy.
He thought to rush in and scoop the dwarves into his claws and look into their minds to see his son, but no. That would draw too much attention. He knew that Siravel would never accept Gorliad, nor would she be pleased if she heard of the dwarves helping him. Geldryn then thought about how angry his wife would be if she learned that he willingly helped Gorliad in any fashion.
His mind went back to the silver dragon that Gorliad had slain. The burgundy dragon had been so proud, and so had Geldryn. If only Siravel could look beyond the lame leg. Assuredly, tradition dictated Gorliad could not inherit, but that did not altogether sever the bond for Geldryn.
“If Gorliad cannot learn the rite to lay claim, then all we have done will be for naught,” the strange dwarf said.
Geldryn listened intently. Could it be that Gorliad intended to claim a kingdom?
Algearon threw his hands up in the air. “By the Aurorean if the knowledge is here, I don’t know where to find it.”
The king felt a stir in his breast. Without even fully realizing what he was doing, he formed a connection with a brilliant diamond on the altar. His energies created a light within the diamond that shone outward, painting colors and runes along the wall above the altar.
“I think the Aurorean heard you,” the other dwarf said. The two moved in to stare at the colorful runes projected onto the wall. “I can’t understand it,” the dwarf said.
“Don’t try to, just look at each and every symbol. Gorliad will understand it. This is the language of the dragons.”
Something up in the tunnel stirred. Geldryn broke his connection with the diamond and turned away from the prince’s chamber. He moved silently up the tunnel, leaving the dwarves to do as they would. As he neared the sentry’s chamber a great red and orange dragon emerged.
“Sire, I thought I heard something,” the sentry said.
Geldryn shook his massive, black head. “Nothing at all,” he replied. “It was just me pacing through the halls. Go back to your station.”
“As you wish sire,” the sentry responded.
Geldryn made sure the dragon returned into the chamber and then moved up to his own chamber. He stared up at the image of the Aurorean above him. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked as though the colors and jewels shone brighter upon him than usual. He smiled to himself, thinking that his other son had perhaps been able to find a place where he could finally be free of the bounds set by tradition. Better than that, perhaps Gorliad was now finally out from Beleriad’s shadow. He thought to ask Algearon where Gorliad was, but no, that would not do. It was better he didn’t know.
It was better that Siravel never suspect anything. The
last time Gorliad had displeased her, Siravel had driven Geldryn to banish Gorliad. True, he had likely killed the skytes, but then again, Geldryn wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have done the same thing had he been given Gorliad’s lot. Still, for now he would continue as normal. He would focus upon Siravel and Beleriad. Perhaps one day, after the queen had passed on and her spirit flown to the north, he might see if he could find Gorliad once more.
Chapter 32
Gorliad sat upon the entrance to the mountain. A fresh layer of dust that had only moments before been an army of three hundred orcs, covered the tundra beyond the forest. The dragon’s white eyes scanned the horizon, watching impatiently for the slightest sing of Hermean and his drake. He stood there until well after dark, and then he curled up and slept on the spot, refusing to move until his friend returned. Only to defend the mountain, or to occasionally answer the call of nature as all beings must, did he abandon the spot.
For two more days he stood watch. Waiting. Hoping.
When at last he saw the drake his chest welled with joy and he let out a triumphant roar that created small avalanches along the eastern slope of the mountain. When Hermean finally landed beside him, the dragon could hardly contain his excitement.
“You have returned,” Gorliad said happily.
“Did you ever doubt?” Hermean said as he swung his stubby right leg over the drake and slid from off its back. “I have the answers we seek, I think.”
“You think?” Gorliad questioned.
“Well, I can’t actually read the crystals of knowledge that are in the chamber. I also can’t steal them because it would be noticed.”
Gorliad nodded. “So what do you have?”
“Search my mind.”
Gorliad wasted no time. He locked eyes with the dwarf and waded through the memories there. When he saw the inside of the prince’s chamber he looked through Hermean’s eyes and marveled at the runes and symbols projected from the diamond. The dragon held the memory almost as if it were a frozen moment in time, denying the memory to play out in real time, but suspending it and studying the runes. As he did so, he could feel something within him awaken. It was like the fires he had felt before, but different somehow. Instead of heat and flame, it was warmth and light.