The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5)

by A. Giannetti

  “They are close behind us,” said their captain urgently to Ascilius. “It will not be long before they reach the gate.”

  With his own hands, Ascilius closed the gate, sealing its doors with mighty closing spells. Other Dwarf mages sealed the door leading into the hidden tunnel so that it could not be used if the Goblins chanced to discover the hidden passageway. As hundreds of Dwarves began carrying stones from the dike and piling them before the gate, a great, hollow boom sounded from inside the mountain, and the great steel doors of the entryway trembled on their hinges.

  “We have taken too long,” said Durio grimly to Ascilius. “The Goblins are already knocking on the gate with their ram. When they break through, we will be trapped between their two forces like a nut in a vise.”

  “They will not break through,” said Elerian calmly to Durio before walking with a light, confident step to the nearly invisible crack that marked the point where the two doors of the entryway came together.

  “You have taken company with a madman?” muttered Durio caustically to Ascilius. “Is he planning to hold back the enemy’s ram with just his two arms?”

  “Watch and you will see,” said Ascilius confidently as Elerian sprang to the top of the low wall the Dwarves had raised up before the gate. Raising his right arm, Elerian pressed the silver ring on his hand up against the thick steel before him. There was another terrific boom from inside the mountain as the Goblin’s great ram crashed against the doors again, but this time, they did not tremble in the least under the terrific blow they had just received. With his third eye, Elerian saw a crimson glow briefly shadow the doors of the gate before flowing into his silver ring which grew warm on his finger as it absorbed the destruction spell.

  “Hammer away,” thought Elerian serenely to himself. “Though every last member of your host lends his hand to your ram, you shall not pass these gates while I stand here.”

  While continuing to press his ring against the gate, Elerian cast a shape-changing spell with his left hand, spreading a golden cloak over the boulders beneath his feet, the ground under them, and the sheer stone face on either side of the gate. As the spell loosened the physical bonds that held the stone under and around him in its present form, it began to flow like water under Elerian’s direction, forming a low wall about two feet thick that showed not a single seam in all its length. Drawing again on the power being absorbed by his ring from the ram, Elerian then used the hardening spell taught to him by Ascilius to transform the wall into an unbreakable barrier.

  “Pile more stone on the wall,” roared Ascilius to the Dwarves around him, all of whom had paused in their labors to watch Elerian. None of them understood how it was being accomplished, but seeing the gate holding firm despite the thunderous impacts of the Goblin ram against the doors, they began to furiously lay more boulders on top of the barrier Elerian had fashioned, watching with mingled wonder and fear as he joined the stones to the glass smooth wall he had created with the power of his magic.

  “Build a ramp,” ordered Ascilius as the impenetrable barrier before the gate grew higher. A wide incline of stone immediately began to grow behind Elerian, allowing the Dwarves to continue stacking stones on the magical wall he was constructing beneath his feet.

  When the gate finally disappeared behind the barrier of hardened stone that Elerian had joined to the cliff face around the entryway, the pounding of the ram on the other side of the gates faded away. His task accomplished, Elerian walked lightly down the ramp which the Dwarves had constructed, feeling a bit embarrassed by the wild cheers that rose up all around him. His feet no sooner touched the ground than Ascilius ran up to him. After seizing Elerian’s left shoulder with his powerful left hand, he began to pound him exuberantly on his back with the flat of his right hand.

  “Hold your thanks!” shouted Elerian as he slipped out of Ascilius’s grasp. “I am beginning to suspect that your congratulatory slaps on the back are no more than a cunning excuse to pummel me.”

  “You exaggerate as usual,” said Ascilius cheerfully. “The taps I gave you were mere pats, hardly to be felt by any self respecting Dwarf.”

  “In that case, I would hate to receive a blow that you delivered in anger,” replied Elerian dryly.

  “Perilous is the fury of a Dwarf,” responded Ascilius complacently. “You would do well to remember that the next time you decide to play one of your pranks on me.”

  “My superior wit will best your great muscles any day of the week as I shall prove at the first opportunity,” responded Elerian serenely.

  “At it again, I see,” said a deep, sardonic voice.

  Elerian looked to his right and found Durio standing there with Tonare sitting by his right knee. The Dwarf favored Elerian with a suspicious, probing look, as if he gazed upon an enemy instead of an ally.

  “What do you think of Elerian now, Durio?” asked Ascilius merrily. “The gate behind us will stay closed though the Goblins pound on it with their ram until the snow flies.”

  “Your companion has brought us safety but at what price, Ascilius?” replied Durio, refusing to quit his somber mood. “I see a ring on his finger of the kind that brought the Middle Realm to the perilous state that it now enjoys. Will he now set himself up over the Dwarves, emulating Torquatus who lords it over his dark hordes without opposition?”

  “What a pleasant life that would be, ordering about cheerful fellows like yourself from dawn to dusk,” Elerian replied sarcastically, his tolerance for the crusty old Dwarf coming to an abrupt end. His gray eyes gleaming with a cold, dangerous light, he looked fearlessly into Durio’s dark, mistrustful eyes. The Dwarf’s face became flushed with anger, but he was interrupted by Tonare before he could make any reply.

  “This is not the time for this conversation,” said the dentire in his rough voice. “There are eyes and ears all around us.”

  Unnoticed by Durio or Elerian, the Dwarves around them were listening keenly to their exchange while ostensibly reinforcing, with more boulders, the wall of hardened stone that Elerian had created.

  “We will talk later in some private place,” said Ascilius brusquely to Durio as he grasped Elerian’s left elbow with his powerful right hand. Leaving the glowering Dwarf to oversee the completion of the barrier before the gate, Ascilius dragged Elerian away, heading for the newly built ramp that led to the summit of the dike.

  “You should ignore Durio,” advised Ascilius, letting go of Elerian’s arm when they were out of earshot of the other Dwarves. “Your ring has alarmed him just as it troubled me when you first proposed making it.”

  “His reaction to my ring is only the latest annoyance that he has offered me. He is as prickly and irritating as the spines on a chestnut burr, as are most of your countrymen,” said Elerian dryly as he and Ascilius walked up the ramp. A sudden gleam lit his gray eyes. “Are you certain that you are really a Dwarf, Ascilius?” Elerian asked gravely. “You are so unlike most of your brethren that I think you must have some Elf blood in your veins.”

  “What a horrible thought,” replied Ascilius, pretending to shudder at the very idea. “It is bad enough that I must associate with you. Sharing your blood line would be unbearable.”

  Elerian smiled to himself, basking for a moment in the warm glow of friendship that enveloped him and Ascilius as they walked together. By the time they reached the summit of the ramp, the resentment raised up in his breast by Durio had faded away. Together, he and Ascilius stopped to watch the line of wagons streaming north along the forest road that led to Iulius.

  “Strung out like that, the wagons are vulnerable to the Goblins who withdrew into the forest,” commented Elerian to Ascilius.

  “That cannot be helped,” replied the Dwarf grimly. “We must run and fight at the same time, for the Goblins inside Galenus will march over the western flank of Celsus once they discover that they cannot breach the back gate. My people will be in dire straits if we do not reach Iulius ahead of them.”

  Suddenly, from deep within t
he forest to the north, Elerian and Ascilius both heard the doleful howls of Goblin hounds.

  “What will the night bring?” wondered Elerian to himself, thinking of all the Dwarf wagons traveling through the forest with only a thin line of warriors to keep them safe.

  “I am going to scout the forest for a bit,” he said abruptly to Ascilius. “Perhaps I can discover what the Goblins are up to.”

  “Do not go far,” warned Ascilius, but Elerian was already racing lightly down the side of the dike. Under Ascilius’s disapproving eyes, he slipped away into the forest to the west of the Goblin camp.

  Surprisingly, Elerian found the wood deserted. The great trees were still and brooding, as if waiting to see what the final outcome would be of the battle between the Goblins and the Dwarves. Walking lightly through one ancient grove after another, Elerian eventually came to a small, clear stream where he paused to drink, wondering that he had not noticed his great thirst before this. Then, as he was washing off the stains of battle in a shallow pool with a gravel bottom, he suddenly heard an almost inaudible footfall, warning him that something was approaching from out of the west. Calling his silver ring to his hand, he instantly disappeared. Retreating into the branches of a nearby oak, he waited to see what came his way.

  A coal black canigrae appeared first, its eyes gleaming crimson in the dim light under the trees as it snuffled at the leaf covered ground with wet nostrils. It was followed by a tall Uruc dressed in black mail. His eyes took on a scarlet glow like those of his hound when it whined eagerly after catching Elerian’s scent on the far bank of the stream. The canigrae raised its shaggy head, staring alertly at the branch overhead where Elerian stood, every sense alert for danger.

  “I know you are there,” said the Uruc in a soft, cruel voice as he, too, looked up into the tree. “Come down. I have come alone for I wish to talk not fight.”

  “Who are you and what do you want with me?” asked Elerian warily.

  “My name is Zaleuc, and I command all of the Goblin forces on this side of Celsus,” replied the Uruc cordially. “You saw me before on the hillock when you repelled my destruction spell. When my spies informed me that you had entered the forest, I came at once to parley with you.”

  “Why would you wish to talk to me?” asked Elerian suspiciously. “I have no authority among the Dwarves.”

  “You have aroused my curiosity,” replied the Uruc languidly, “for I know that you are not the human you pretend to be.”

  “You are mistaken in your conjecture,” replied Elerian, determined not to give away any information to the Goblin. “I am only a man with modest mage powers.”

  “A human cannot use magic without a staff to assist him,” replied Zaleuc in an amused voice. “Why not show yourself to me. I have come alone and mean you no harm.”

  Common sense warned Elerian that he ought not to treat with Zaleuc, but curiosity kept him where he was. Sending away his ring, he appeared before the Uruc in his illusory human form.

  He does not have the gift of mage sight,” thought Elerian to himself as disappointment raised a frown on the Goblin’s narrow, pale face.

  “If you are not a coward, show your true form,” said Zaleuc impatiently. “I have already promised that I would not harm you.”

  The insult stung Elerian in a way that surprised him. A fey mood suddenly came over him, overcoming his commonsense. Stripping away his illusion, he stood on his branch in his true form, a light gleaming in his gray eyes that made the Uruc step back.

  “I suspected as much,” said Zaleuc softly. A cunning, calculating look suddenly entered his dark eyes. “Why does an Eirian take up with Dwarves?” he asked slyly. “They are a mean spirited, greedy people little suited to associate with you kind.”

  “What I choose to do is my own business,” replied Elerian coldly.

  “Of course it is,” replied the Uruc mildly. The sly look on his face suddenly deepened as he continued to speak. “Still, this war has nothing to do with you, and knowing the little people as I do, I suspect that they have not treated you well. They are an unfriendly, miserly race who look with disfavor on anyone who is not of their kind.”

  “Has he been spying on me?” wondered Elerian uncomfortably to himself. “His words mirror my own thoughts all too closely.”

  “I see by your silence that you agree,” said the Uruc sympathetically. A subtle change came over his features. His dark eyes now seemed warm and friendly to Elerian, his lips fuller, and his vulpine features less artful. “You will find that the Urucs do not treat their friends in such an inhospitable manner,” said the Goblin in a disingenuous voice. “Abandon the little people and wealth, safety, whatever you wish can be yours.” Slowly, the Uruc reached for a heavy purse that hung at his belt. Opening it, he revealed varicolored, faceted gems pooled among gleaming gold coins. “A pack filled with a similar treasure will I give you if you will but slip away into the forest and leave this place. I give you my word that you will not be pursued.”

  “Does he somehow know about Anthea?” Elerian wondered to himself, alarmed at the manner in which the Uruc seemed to divine his innermost thoughts and desires. With a treasure such as the Goblin offered, he could return to Tarsius and wed her with the blessing of Orianus. “He is clever beyond words, tempting me where I am weakest,” thought Elerian to himself. “I could never betray Ascilius, but even with his blessing I could not accept this Goblin’s gold. An act so faithless would corrupt me little by little, like a worm gnawing away at the heart of an apple, until all inside of it is spoiled or hollowed out.”

  “Even if I could trust you to keep your word, I could never abandon my friends, for it goes against the loyalty which I prize above all else and which is so foreign to your own foul nature,” said Elerian coldly. “You came to parley, therefore I will let you go this time, but if I see you again, I will slay you out of hand,” he promised grimly.

  His face contorted by anger, the Uruc shed the illusion which had softened his features. The pointed ears, the red-flecked eyes, and the sharp, gleaming teeth of his kind all became visible once more. Suddenly raising his long right hand, the Uruc cast a destruction spell up at Elerian. Reacting instantly, Elerian lifted his own right hand, watching with his third eye as his silver ring of power absorbed the crimson orb which had flown up at him from the Goblin’s fingertips. Zaleuc seemed not at all surprised when his spell failed, having cast it more in anger than with any hope of slaying Elerian.

  “Mark my words, your precious friends will cast you out like a stray dog in the end,” he said in a spiteful voice before suddenly disappearing into the forest behind him.

  “Good riddance,” thought Elerian to himself as he turned and walked sure footedly along the upper pathways of the forest toward the Goblin camp that lay to the east. He remained on the alert for treachery from Zaleuc, whether in the form of an ambush or a trap, but the forest remained empty and safe as a tame woodlot on some comfortable farm. By the time he reached the edge of the wood, the sun was low in the sky behind him and the shadows were lengthening.

  The moment that he climbed down the rough barked trunk of a stout chestnut tree, Elerian was accosted by Ascilius who, for some time now, had been impatiently patrolling the margin of the forest where he thought it most likely that Elerian would appear.

  “Where have you been for such a long time?” he asked angrily. “I was beginning to fear that I would have to organize a search party for you.”

  “I have been looking through the forest which I found to be surprisingly empty,” said Elerian cheerfully. “I have also spoken to the Goblin commander whom I found to be an especially unpleasant fellow. He advised me to desert you and your folk, offering me a sizable amount of treasure as an incentive.”

  “You should have taken his gold and departed,” replied Ascilius dourly. “The next few days are liable to be exceptionally dangerous and unpleasant, and it may be that none of us will ever see the walls of Iulius.” Turning abruptly away, he set out at a sm
art pace for the burned out Goblin camp. With a sigh, Elerian followed him, gliding over the ground with no more noise than a shadow would make.

  “If cantankerousness could be exchanged for treasure, Dwarves would all be as rich as kings,” he thought wryly to himself. “No, thank you, Elerian, for your loyalty, will I hear tonight.” A hard gleam suddenly lit his clear gray eyes. “I would say it is my duty as a good friend to lift Ascilius from this melancholy frame of mind,” he thought to himself, his mood lightening again as he began to consider what sort of prank he might play on the Dwarf.

  A troop numbering at least six hundred waited restively in the Goblin camp, all of the Dwarves already arranged into a column and impatient to be on their way, for everyone else had already departed. Around the small company, the battlefield was deserted and eerily quiet, the acrid smell of burnt flesh and hair still lingering in the air, drifting up from the gray ash heaps that were all that remained of the pyres where the dead had been burnt.

  “We should have left this place hours ago,” said Ascilius shortly to Elerian as he took his place at the head of the column. After blowing a short, imperative blast on his horn, he set off at a quick trot, Elerian running by his right shoulder, and the column of Dwarves following behind them.

  Ignoring the disapproval that seemed to rise like a dark cloud from Ascilius and his company of Dwarves, Elerian concentrated instead on the road before him. Covered with large, closely fitted flagstones, it was wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast, with a wide, grass covered shoulder on both sides and ditches dug along the outside edge of each shoulder for drainage. A line of enormous ash trees grew on the shoulders on both sides of the road, shading it with their thickly leaved, far reaching branches. Each eighth of a mile was marked by a tall, graceful stone pillar topped by a mage light in an iron cage formed in the shape of twisting oak leaves. Elerian guessed that they had been constructed to act as guides during periods of fog, heavy rain, or snow. Most of the columns had been partially or completely toppled. The few that were still intact were covered with foul words and evil symbols scratched or painted into their fluted sides.