The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5)

by A. Giannetti

  “What a difference a crowd and some light makes,” thought Elerian to himself, remembering the dark, tomblike spaces of Ennodius.

  “You see our groves properly illuminated here,” said Ascilius proudly. “They will match any wood above ground in beauty.”

  “It is indeed a wondrous sight,” said Elerian, his head all awhirl from all the sights and sounds that washed over him. To himself, however, he thought, “I prefer living wood to cold stone no matter how brightly it is lit or how splendid it is to look at. Nothing can match the beauty of a well formed, ancient tree pulsing with life beneath its bark.”

  Six great doorways were cut into the outside wall of the hall at regular intervals. Gavros led Elerian and Ascilius through the crowds toward the north doorway. When they left the hall, they entered a large passageway lit by golden mage lights hung overhead in great silver chandeliers. The street running down the center of the tunnel was empty, but the sidewalks on either side were crowded with Dwarves. Many more Dwarves dressed in bright tunics sat on the balconies outside the upper windows of the dwellings that lined the sidewalks. It appeared to Elerian that word of the new arrivals from Ennodius appeared to have brought every resident of Galenus out of his or her dwelling.

  Passing through the curious crowds on the right-hand sidewalk, they walked for a long way until the passageway they were following intersected the wide boulevard which encircled the entire fourth level. In the blank wall on the far side of the intersection, beneath an intricately carved, raised stone doorframe, Elerian saw two ornate wooden doors guarded by a pair of long bearded Dwarves dressed in shining mail and round caps. Each of them held a long handled, double bladed axe in his right hand. They were evidently expecting Gavros, for they opened the doors behind them without being asked when he led Ascilius and Elerian across the intersection.

  After a short walk through a passageway about ten feet wide and twelve high, they came to a large hall. At regular intervals around the perimeter of the room, pillars in the shape of different trees rose up from the polished floor. Between a pair of stone trees on their right was a richly appointed throne resting on a low dais. The spaces between the other pillars were occupied by elaborately carved wooden doors.

  Gavros led Ascilius and Elerian across the chamber and through a door on the far side. As they walked down a large, high ceilinged passageway, they passed more wooden doors, dark in color and gleaming from thick coats of varnish. Each door was skillfully carved with different, elaborate designs. Gavros eventually stopped before a door on his right and opened it, revealing a large bedroom that contained two comfortably appointed beds. Over the heads of the two Dwarves, Elerian saw an open door on the far side of the room which led to a washroom containing two steaming copper tubs filled with hot water.

  “The king will call for you after you refresh yourselves,” said Gavros to Ascilius and Elerian.

  Once Gavros left them, Elerian and Ascilius soaked luxuriously in the steaming water filling the tubs, washing away the stains of battle. An old Dwarf with a long white beard took away their clothes to be washed and their mail to be burnished, but he did not touch Ascilius’s hammer or Elerian’s sword and knives, for word has already spread around the city about the magical properties of their weapons. The old Dwarf returned with clean clothes: brown linen pants, soft white linen shirts, and bright blue hooded tunics. They were given soft leather slippers to wear on their feet and belts of silver links to clasp around their waists. As soon as they were properly dressed, Gavros appeared in their quarters again.

  “Eonis wishes to talk to you and your companion,” he said a trifle wearily to Ascilius. He still wore his gore stained, battered battle gear and appeared not to have taken any rest at all since they had last seen him. “Leave your weapons,” he said as he saw the two companions stand undecided by their arms. “The king does not permit weapons in his presence.”

  Leaving the room, Gavros turned to his right, leading Elerian and Ascilius deeper into the passageway before finally coming to a stop in front of a massive wooden door at the end of the tunnel. A pair of aged Dwarves with long white beards reaching to their waists stood before the doors. They were dressed in bright green, hooded tunics and brown pants, and the belts they wore around their waists were made of gold links that gleamed in the light of the mage lamps.

  “I will leave you now, for I still have much to attend to,” said Gavros as the two ancient Dwarves opened the heavy door.

  When he and Ascilius stepped through the entranceway, Elerian found himself in a round chamber about thirty feet in diameter. Yellow mage lights hung from the ceiling, their soft rays reflected by the walls and floor which were made of polished granite, veined with red and blue threads. At regular intervals, raised, ornate pillars were carved into the walls of the room. Some of the spaces between the pillars were occupied by doors while others were covered by stone panels depicting Dwarves in battle gear, Tarsi of the plains mounted on their horses, and a host of other figures and scenes. In between two pillars on the far side of the chamber was a large fireplace of white marble veined with blue gray threads with a bright fire burning in its hearth.

  Seated on a carved wooden chair turned sideways to the fire so that his right profile was presented to Ascilius and Elerian was an ancient Dwarf whose hair and beard, worn loose, were white as snow. He wore a pale blue, hooded tunic trimmed with gold thread and a belt of heavy gold links around his waist. A gold crown of open work set with fiery diamonds crowned his snowy locks. In his veined, powerful left hand, he held a polished staff of ebony, richly appointed with gleaming silver work. To the right of the Dwarf, Elerian was surprised to see Herias, sitting in another chair and looking very pleased with himself.

  “Nephew, I never thought to see you again in this life!” said the aged Dwarf in a reserved, deep voice to Ascilius. “Seat yourselves,” he continued, waving, with his right hand, to two empty chairs between him and Herias. “I will call for food and drink. Then, Ascilius, I must hear the whole tale of what has passed since you disappeared so many years ago.”

  “Bring food and wine for us Quincius and a small table,” Eonis ordered one of the door wardens as Ascilius took the chair closest to his uncle, leaving Elerian to sit next to Herias.

  As Elerian sat in his chair, he cast a sidelong glance at Herias out of the right corners of his eyes and was startled to see a fleeting look of extreme malevolence in the Dwarf’s dark eyes that appeared to be directed at Ascilius. The venomous glance lasted only an instant, and a surreptitious look to his left demonstrated to Elerian that it had gone unnoticed by both Eonis and Ascilius.

  “My instincts were right then,” thought Elerian to himself. “For whatever dark reason, Herias has no love for his uncle. Eonis, too, seems cool toward Ascilius. He might be greeting a stranger rather than a nephew that he has not seen for many years. ”

  Just then, Quincius returned with a small table of polished black ebony inlaid with silver, setting it before the fire within easy reach of all four chairs. Three other Dwarves followed him bearing cheese, and fresh, crusty bread laid out on plates made of yellow gold, jeweled goblets, and crystal decanters filled with red and white wine. After setting everything on the table, they retired from the room. As the others ate and drank, Ascilius began to recount the story of his adventures since his disappearance twenty years before, a goblet of red wine cupped between his powerful knotted hands.

  “Twenty years ago, uncle, on my return from my last trading trip to Tarsius, my company was ambushed by a strong party of Mordi and Ancharians on the plains north of Silanus,” he said quietly. “How they discovered us I do not understand to this day, for we were east of the Arvina in lands that are far from the usual haunts of the Goblins in Ancharia.”

  “Falco raised the same question in Ennodius before he suddenly changed the subject,” thought Elerian to himself. “Was it a coincidence that the Goblins found Ascilius on the plains or was there some other more sinister reason?” His question remained un
answered but not forgotten as Ascilius resumed telling his story.

  “A desperate battle ensued,” continued Ascilius. “The Goblins outnumbered us and wanted us alive, but my companions and I were equally determined not to be captured. During the struggle, I was struck from behind and lost consciousness. When I woke up, I found myself chained to the others of my party who had survived. Only six of us remained out of a company of thirty, all of them good friends,” he said sadly, “known to me since my youth. After a long, weary journey wearing enchanted manacles on our wrists and ankles that bit deep into flesh if we struggled, we were brought to the Goblins' mines in Nefandus and led deep beneath the earth. I did not see the others again after that, for the mines are vast. Whether they are alive or dead, I do not know. They may be there yet, laboring under the earth,” he said somberly.

  “After long years of toil and torment, they brought my friend Elerian into the mines and chained us together. Many human prisoners had preceded him over the years, dying one by one from the heavy toil and the lack of proper food, but although he grew thin, Elerian remained alive. We became friends, and when the opportunity presented itself, we escaped from the mines and made our way east. When we passed through Calenus, we rescued Dacien the son of Orianus. After reaching the plains, we stayed with his people for a time to help ward off the Goblin forces that had invaded their plains, but eventually, we traveled to Ennodius. After gathering the remnants of my people who had taken shelter in the outer fortress, I led them here by way of the hidden road that leads through the foothills north of the Catalus.”

  Looking at Eonis, Elerian saw no sign of either interest or sympathy on his craggy features as Ascilius finished his sparse account.

  “You say you have led your people here, Ascilius, but I do not see your family,” he said in a wintry voice. “Why have they not come to sit with us?”

  “They were all slain by Eboria or her offspring,” replied Ascilius grimly. His face was drawn into lines of grief, but no change came over Eonis’s stern face at the saw news.

  “He knew the answer before asking the question,” thought Elerian to himself, casting another sidelong glance at Herias. The Dwarf’s dark eyes, hard as agates, had a satisfied look in them.

  “A sad loss,” said Eonis coldly to Ascilius, “especially when you consider that your family might still be alive and your city unharmed had you given up your irresponsible wandering as your father and I often urged you to do.”Elerian stirred in his seat at the unfairness of Eonis’s words, but held his tongue.

  “A king will say and do whatever he wishes in his own house,” he reminded himself. He glanced at Ascilius and saw guilt mingled with the sadness on his face. In his dark eyes, however, was the first hint of anger, like a smoldering coal beneath the grey ashes of a fire.

  “I will carry my guilt the rest of my life, uncle,” he said quietly. “There is no need to harp on it now. I have done what I can to atone for my absence by bringing my people here to safety.”

  “You have only given them a temporary reprieve, nephew, and worsened my own situation,” said Eonis witheringly. “The stores that remain in the city will be used up that much more quickly now, making our situation even more desperate.”

  “If there is no welcome for us here then I will take my people to Iulius,” said Ascilius, anger giving his voice a hard edge.

  “You do not know then,” said Eonis in a mocking voice. “The Goblin army is far more numerous than you suppose. Before laying siege to the city, their leader secretly sent a goodly portion of his forces north. They have entrenched themselves behind a great earthen dike which they have raised before the back gate of my city. A frontal assault by all my forces would not be enough to dislodge them. They are also numerous enough to repel any force Dardanus might send against them. We are trapped here, faced with the prospect of either surrendering or starving to death when our food stocks run out,” concluded Eonis in a grim voice.

  Listening to the old king, Elerian felt his heart sink as his hopes of returning to Anthea were dashed once more.

  “Your words, uncle, have taken away all the comfort that I garnered from bringing my people here,” replied Ascilius in a somber voice. “Still, there must be some way past the Goblin forces guarding the back gate. What of the hidden door I built? Is it still undiscovered?”

  “The door remains a secret, but it does us no good,” said Eonis dismissively. “It is too close to the back gate. We cannot assemble a force in front of it without being seen, for the Goblins have cleared all the slopes on both sides of their fortification, and they keep a ceaseless watch from the top of their dike. You should have made the tunnel leading to the door longer,” he added reprovingly.

  “I made the best use I could of the Dwarves and gold that you allowed me, uncle,” said Ascilius mildly. “As I recall, you did not want to build an escape tunnel at all.”

  “It seemed such a waste of time and coin,” said Eonis almost to himself. “Still what is done cannot be undone.”

  “I agree,” said Ascilius firmly. “We must work with what we have and not what we wish we had. How many warriors can you muster?” he asked of his uncle, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

  Eonis deliberated for a moment before answering. “I have four thousand Dwarves who can still bear arms.

  “I can add a thousand warriors to the total,” said Ascilius. “A force of that size might be able to overcome the Goblins who guard the back gate if it took control of their dike first.”

  “It cannot be done,” said Eonis impatiently. “As I said before, anyone who emerges from the secret door would be seen at once by the Goblin sentries. The numerous Goblins and mutare stationed at the top of the dike would gain control of the entryway before we could even begin to assemble a force to attack the dike.”

  “Perhaps Elerian can add an element of surprise to the assault,” replied Ascilius, casting a hopeful look at Elerian. “He has powers not seen in this age of the world since the passing of Dymiter.”

  “Even if he were Dymiter himself, I would not risk a foray at this time,” said Eonis dismissively. “Old age does not look kindly on risk and uncertainty, nephew. Our food stores are low but we are not starving yet, and the gates have held against the enemy for months now. I see no reason, at this time, to risk losing the last secret we hold over the enemy. If the Goblins discover the hidden door, we will have lost our last way out of the city. Until I decide differently, you and your people will remain here in Galenus. Gavros will assume command of your warriors. You will do nothing without seeking his approval first.”

  Ascilius's face darkened at Eonis’s words. “You demonstrate a lack of trust in me that is uncalled-for uncle,” he said angrily.

  “My lack of confidence in you is more than justified, Ascilius,” said Eonis, raising his voice and rising out of his chair. “You have never shown any common sense or dependability. Instead, you traveled about and indulged yourself while your brother stayed home like a dutiful Dwarf and managed the affairs of Ennodius. You now seek to puff yourself up in my eyes with your exploits, but I know that disaster would have befallen you in the castella had Durio not come to your rescue. You left home a reckless fool and have returned unchanged!”

  Ascilius turned pale at his uncle’s insults. As he and Eonis glared at each other with their dark eyes gleaming with anger, Elerian struggled once more to hold his tongue.

  “Herias has been at work here, stirring up Eonis’s animosity toward Ascilius with half truths,” he thought angrily to himself. “Durio would have rescued no one if Ascilius had not had the courage to first bring his people out of Ennodius.”

  Abruptly, Ascilius stood up. Grim faced, his back stiff with anger, he stalked out of the room without uttering another word, followed closely by Elerian.

  A PRANK

  “A plague on stiff necked Dwarves,” thought Elerian wryly to himself as he followed his companion. “If Ascilius and his uncle continue to argue he and I may find ourselves locked in some
dungeon far beneath the city before long.” A hard gleam suddenly lit his gray eyes. “That being the case, I might as well have a bit of fun with the old fellow while I can. It will serve him right for the way that he treated Ascilius.”

  Turning thought into action, Elerian called his silver ring to his right hand and vanished as soon as he was out of sight of the door wardens. Absorbed in his own anger, Ascilius never noticed that Elerian was no longer behind him as he stamped down the passageway.

  Returning to the entryway to Eonis’s sitting room on quick, silent feet, Elerian felt stealthily about in the pockets of the porter on the left side of the door. His long left hand soon emerged bearing a small silver coin and a larger, heavier gold piece. The silver coin Elerian carefully laid on the ground between the two old door wardens. It became visible as soon as it left his fingers, gleaming brightly in the yellow mage lights that lit the passageway. The eyes of both Dwarves fell on the bit of silver at the same moment. With a speed that would have done credit to Dwarves half their age, they pounced upon it and began wrestle with each other for possession of the coin. Neither of them noticed when the door to Eonis’s chambers briefly opened and closed.