The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5)

by A. Giannetti

  “If I am not mistaken, this maid has taken an interest in Ascilius,” thought Elerian delightedly to himself as he observed her casting yet another sidelong glance at his companion’s muscled forearm and bulging bicep. Unobtrusively leaving the inn, Elerian returned a moment later disguised by an illusion that made him look like a slightly younger version of Eonis.

  Strolling up the serving maid, he said politely, “Good evening miss. Could you bring me a mug of beer?”

  “Certainly,” replied the maid, her eyes dark lingering on Ascilius who had just won the bout and was calling for drinks all around.

  “He is a fine fellow well worth the interest of any maid,” said Elerian looking over at Ascilius. “I have known him for many years.” The maid flushed slightly, turning a becoming shade of pink.

  “Why whatever do you mean?” she asked, pretending confusion.

  “I see that my friend has caught your eye,” said Elerian with a kind smile. “He is much taken with you too, having observed you earlier but is too shy to approach you and tell you his true feelings.”

  “Are you certain?” asked the maid with a frown. “He certainly does not seem the retiring type.”

  Ascilius was now engaged in a game of buffets with a brawny Dwarf with bulging muscles that looked hard as granite. As Elerian watched, the Dwarf struck Ascilius on the left side of his jaw with a fist like a hammer. Ascilius rocked back on his heels but did not go down, eliciting roars of encouragement from the Dwarves who had bet on him. Lashing out with his right fist, Ascilius flattened his opponent and began leaping about the room, both arms upraised into the air in a triumphant gesture.

  “That rough exterior conceals a bashful, romantic nature,” Elerian assured the maid. “If I were to direct his attention your way, I am certain that the least sign of encouragement from you would bring him running to your side.”

  After an encouraging wink to the doubtful maid, Elerian walked over to Ascilius. “I say my good fellow,” he said quietly in a disguised voice. “Yonder maid has sent me to convey her admiration for your mighty exploits and your handsome person.”

  Immediately, Ascilius left off his victory dance and directed somewhat bleary eyes at the serving maid who blushed again. After shyly crooking the index finger of her right hand, she disappeared into the kitchen behind her. Like a hound on a fresh scent, Ascilius immediately walked briskly across the room after her, a wide grin spread across his craggy face.

  “This should be interesting,” thought Elerian to himself as he darted from the inn and shed his illusion. Running back inside, he was just in time to see Ascilius shoot through the entrance to the kitchen, his hands held protectively over his head. Behind him, skirts held high with her left hand so that she might run better, came the serving maid with a large iron frying pan clenched in her right hand. Gone now was the shy servant, replaced instead by a warrior maid with flashing eyes and a fierce demeanor who appeared intent on vengeance for some offense committed by the unfortunate Ascilius. She must have had something of a reputation with her culinary weapon, for the crowded inn magically cleared before Ascilius, the Dwarves in his path diving under tables or climbing over them in their haste to get away.

  His eyes gleaming with laughter, Elerian darted outside and called his silver ring to his right hand. A moment later, fleet as any deer, Ascilius bounded through the doorway of the inn, hotly pursued by the serving maid who had drawn close enough to land a tremendous blow on his shoulders.

  “Help!” roared Ascilius as he first staggered and then increased his speed, taking all three steps before him in one tremendous leap that allowed him to draw away from his determined pursuer.

  Elerian darted behind a great oak tree that grew in the center of the courtyard, directly in Ascilius’s line of flight. Reaching out his right hand, he deftly pulled his frantic companion into its shadow, covering him with his ring’s invisibility spell in the same instant. A moment later, the serving maid dashed by, her iron weapon held high and ready to land another blow.

  “What on earth happened?” Elerian whispered to Ascilius, trying desperately to contain his laughter.

  “Elerian! Thank goodness you are here,” replied Ascilius in a relieved voice. “I followed yonder maid into the kitchen after I saw her crook her finger in my direction. She seemed well pleased with my company, so I gave her a friendly kiss and hug with the disastrous consequences that you just observed. I will never understand the female mind!”

  “Hush!” she is coming back whispered Elerian, his voice quivering slightly from suppressed laughter.

  Skirts still held high, the serving maid stalked past them, swinging her iron weapon restlessly through the air as her eyes examined all the shadowed places around her.

  “She does have a fine set of calves,” muttered Ascilius softly as the maid disappeared into the inn. He seemed strangely bemused, but Elerian could not decide if it was the spirits he had drunk, the blow on his head from the frying pan, or the serving maid which was having this effect on him.

  “Arms like a blacksmith too,” commented Elerian hugging his chest to contain his laughter.

  “I’ll not dispute that,” replied Ascilius rubbing a huge knot on his head. Judging discretion the better part of valor, they decided to seek out another inn despite the lateness of the hour. Sneaking off to the stables, they hitched up their ponies and beat a hasty retreat, spending the night at another inn further up the road.

  “How do you feel,” Elerian asked Ascilius over breakfast the next morning. “I can hardly see that lump anymore.”

  “I feel just fine,” replied Ascilius as he attacked a huge plate of eggs, bacon, and buttered toast accompanied by a large mug of ale.

  “That serving girl seemed quite taken with you last night,” ventured Elerian, eyes shining with mischief. “I think if you had taken a more subtle approach with her things might have turned out differently.”

  “It turned out for the best,” said Ascilius with a shudder. “Were I to wed someone like her, I would have to go about in full armor for the rest of my life, always fearful of being brained with a skillet at a moment’s notice.” Ascilius took another deep swallow from his mug, to steady his nerves perhaps. Setting the mug down, he stared fixedly at his plate for a moment as if considering something.

  “Can it be that the seeds of love have finally begun to take root in his grumpy old heart?” wondered Elerian to himself, watching Ascilius closely, but he saw no further signs that the Dwarf had been smitten. By the time he had finished his breakfast, Ascilius seemed to have entirely forgotten last night’s adventure.

  The next two days were much the same as the first two, except that Elerian played no more tricks, for his impatience was such now that he had no other thought other than to quit Iulius as soon as possible. He dropped many hints to Ascilius about increasing their pace, but the Dwarf stubbornly refused to hurry, giving Elerian a leisurely tour of the countryside before stopping each night at a comfortable inn that supplied them with delicious food and plentiful drink. After their evening meal Ascilius sought out opponents to arm wrestle or played the Dwarf game of buffets far into the night. As his wallet grew heavier from his winnings, his mood waxed merrier in contrast to Elerian who grew more reticent by the hour, for the feeling was growing in his mind that Anthea would set out for Iulius soon if she had not left already.

  DARDANUS

  Elerian was exceedingly relieved when, in the evening of the fourth day, they neared the end of the Caldaria. When he and Ascilius were still five miles from the head of the valley, the Catalus curved to the east, cutting through the road in front of them before swinging north again. After crossing the river over a stone bridge, Ascilius continued north, the road now running along the west bank of the Catalus. With his far seeing eyes, Elerian saw towers and walled terraces on the slopes of a solitary mountain at the end of the valley, all of them lit with gold and silver lights, giving the whole mountain a warm, welcoming look. The posts lining the road also cast poo
ls of yellow light around them now that night was falling.

  “What is that mountain that I see in the distance, Ascilius?” asked Elerian. “It stands apart from its brethren, and its slopes gleam with lights.”

  “You look upon Calidius,” replied Ascilius proudly. “Iulius lies beneath its bright slopes. I wish that you could stay into the fall, Elerian,” he continued rather wistfully. “My uncle has hunting lodges in the forests beyond the city that are rich in game. We could have enjoyed some fine sport there chasing deer and boar through the ancient groves that cover those slopes.”

  “I thought that you hated forests,” said Elerian dryly, thinking of all the times that Ascilius had complained to him during their travels.

  “Hunting in a well known forest with a warm fire, hot food with plentiful spirits, and a warm bed to come back to at night is not the same as stumbling hungry and cold through strange groves full of unknown dangers,” replied Ascilius disdainfully as the road took a northwesterly direction, leaving the Catalus behind, for the river continued on up into the mountains where it had its sources in the cold snowmelt of the high peaks that surrounded the northern part of the Caldaria. Eventually the highway entered a narrow arm of the Caldaria that lay between two spurs of Calidius. At the end of the stony canyon, the road ended before the gate to Iulius. Despite the late hour, the great double doors of the entryway stood open to the night. Two Dwarves in bright chainmail stood guard, but they waved Ascilius on after a casual inspection. After passing through the entryway, Ascilius drove the carriage through a wide tunnel before passing through a second set of gates into a great hall, almost empty because of the late hour.

  The ceiling of the huge chamber was supported at regular intervals by soaring pillars at least fifty feet high, each column shaped like a different variety of tree. Their enormous branches, complete with stone leaves, spread across the entire ceiling. Green, gold, and silver mage lights hung from each bough, their rays reflecting off the polished walls and floor which appeared to Elerian to have been magically hardened, an endeavor which must have required an enormous expenditure of power. Stone songbirds with jeweled eyes perched between the lights, all of them singing as sweetly as any bird of flesh and blood while amongst the trees clear water fell with a soothing sound in the fountains that were scattered about.

  “Iulius is our oldest city in the east,” said Ascilius proudly to Elerian. “Here our art has reached its greatest heights.”

  “It is indeed splendid to look upon, far exceeding even Galenus in magnificence,” replied Elerian who, despite his praise, felt no great enthusiasm for entering another underground city.

  “It is too bad that the Dwarves do not feel the same affection for open skies and living trees as they do for their cold, stony groves,” Elerian thought privately to himself as the carriage carried him through the great hall.

  After driving through a large doorway, Ascilius drove the carriage down a wide, almost deserted passageway that took them to the ramp that rose up through the center of the city. The few Dwarves they passed cast startled glances at Elerian, unused to seeing members of another race in their greatest stronghold. Ascilius ignored them all, for in contrast to the boisterousness that he had displayed over the last four days, he now seemed subdued and preoccupied, as if he had a matter of great import on his mind. After driving the carriage up the ramp to the third level of the city, he stopped the ponies before an inn which had a sign depicting a hammer and an anvil over its door.

  “We will see my uncle first thing in the morning,” said Ascilius to Elerian as they went inside after a sleepy young Dwarf took the carriage away. Inside the inn, they took a room for the night and got a fine meal despite the lateness of the hour. Ascilius remained unusually quiet as they ate. After dinner, when they retired to the room where they would spend the night, he went straight off to bed.

  Early the next morning, after a bath and a hearty breakfast, Ascilius and Elerian set out for the king’s residence on the fourth level of the city, leaving their weapons and other gear behind at the inn. The sidewalks that lined the wide, brightly lit passageways of the city were crowded with Dwarves in bright, hooded tunics. Elerian, who stood head and shoulders above the throng, found himself the object of many startled stares. A few of the Dwarves looked merely curious, but the majority regarded him with suspicious, unfriendly eyes.

  “Are there any friendly Dwarves in this city?” Elerian asked Ascilius curiously.

  “The reserved manner of my people comes from dealing with a world that is not always welcoming to our race,” replied Ascilius promptly. “Dwarves are friendly enough once you prove that you are not their enemy.”

  “You may use caution as an excuse, but I think that Dwarves are just naturally grumpy and suspicious,” replied Elerian with a sudden gleam in his eye.

  “Since you have never had a serious thought in your head that I can recall, it does not matter what you think,” replied Ascilius haughtily.

  Arguing back and forth about the merits of the Dwarf race, they made their way to the great boulevard which circled the outer edge of the fourth level of the city. On the far side of the passageway, set in a blank wall of stone, Elerian saw a pair of dark, richly carved wooden doors. They were open, but a Dwarf in chainmail stood guard on either side of the entryway, a double-bitted axe in his right hand. The door wardens evidently recognized Ascilius, for one of them spoke as the two companions approached the doorway.

  “The king is in his chambers, lord Ascilius. He is expecting you.”

  “Thank you, I can find my own way,” replied Ascilius graciously, showing a rare flash of his usually well hidden royal manner as he set off down the passageway in front of him.

  At the end of the tunnel, Elerian found himself in a round chamber at least one hundred feet across. At the far side of the room, on a dais reached by three low steps, stood a large chair made of age darkened oak. To the left of the dais was a wooden door, also richly carved. The walls and ceiling of the room were polished smooth as glass with streaks of varicolored minerals running through them. Pillars with the appearance of trees were carved in the walls of the hall, their stone branches spreading out over the ceiling. The bright glow from the mage lights hung from their branches was reflected by every polished surface in the chamber. Between each set of pillars, Elerian saw carved, raised panels that appeared to depict scenes from the Dwarves’ history. He was immediately drawn to a panel on his left which showed a forest of beech trees, each tiny leaf perfectly carved.

  “This must be a depiction of Fimbria,” thought Elerian excitedly to himself, for they were the same trees that he often saw in his dreams. Standing at the margin of the wood was a group of tall, slender people who were almost certainly Elves. One of them had his hand extended in friendship to a gathering of Dwarves who were standing nearby with mountains raised up behind them. Elerian would have lingered in the room to examine the other panels, but he saw that Ascilius had already passed through the doorway on the far side of the chamber.

  After catching up to the Dwarf with a few quick, lithe strides, Elerian accompanied him down another passageway that was lined with doors on both sides. Side by side they stopped before an open doorway at the end of the tunnel. In the small, cozy room beyond the entryway several Dwarves were sitting in front of a white marble fireplace with a warm fire burning in its hearth. Suddenly aware of Ascilius’s and Elerian’s presence, an ancient dentire sleeping at the feet of one of the Dwarves raised its great head to look at them with its small, fierce eyes. Its muzzle was white with age, but the rumbling growl that bubbled up from its chest still sounded threatening.

  “Rest easy, Teroc,” said an ancient Dwarf wearing a golden crown on his snowy locks.

  “This must be Dardanus,” thought Elerian to himself as the dentire settled itself back onto the floor. To the right of the Dwarf king, sitting in a semicircle facing the fire, were Eonis, his two sons, and Herias.

  “Welcome back nephew,” said Dardanus warml
y in a deep voice. “I did not think to ever see you again.”

  “Nor did I ever expect to see you again, uncle,” replied Ascilius, displaying the same warmth in his voice.

  “Seat yourselves and take some refreshment,” said Dardanus graciously to Ascilius and Elerian, indicating two empty chairs on his left side. A small, round table of polished marble set with crystal decanters of wine and sweet cakes sat near them. Crystal glasses inlaid with gold were stood near the decanters, some already filled with ruby colored wine.

  “This old fellow sounds more like Falco and Ascilius than Eonis,” thought Elerian approvingly to himself as he took a seat beside Ascilius.

  “Welcome to my city,” said Dardanus graciously to Elerian.

  “I am honored to be your guest my lord,” replied Elerian and meant it.

  Dardanus turned back to Ascilius. “Eonis tells me that Fundanus has perished as well as your mother and your brother,” he said quietly.

  “They died defending their people,” said Ascilius tonelessly.

  “And you blame yourself because you were not there,” said Dardanus shrewdly. “It is good to grieve for those who are gone, nephew, but it is useless to dwell on the immutable past, wondering what might have been. From what Eonis has told me, you have acquitted yourself well since your return, risking your own life to save many others. Your deeds have matched those of any of the war captains of old.”

  Ascilius's rose and bowed to his uncle, his happiness at the praise obviously tempered by sadness at the thought of his family’s death. Elerian noted then that Herias's eyes had gone hard and cold as black agates.