by A. Giannetti
“The time for waiting is over,” replied Elerian gravely. “I will come to you empty handed, except for my weapons, so it is in my mind that we will to journey to the Abercius as you suggested before. There is a treasure there which we may seek together, using it to make peace with your father if we are successful in retrieving it. It will be a dangerous life, Anthea, full of uncertainty and hardship. Are you certain that you wish to share it with me,” asked Elerian, looking deep into the fathomless blue pools that were her eyes.
“If I desired a safe, quiet life by a warm hearth, I could have that with any one of the suitors who pursue me,” Anthea reminded him impatiently.
“Our course is set then,” said Elerian firmly. “The day after tomorrow, after Herias returns, I will press Ascilius hard, telling him again of my desire to leave. I should reach the plains well ahead of you Anthea, but if anything goes amiss on no account are you to try to reach Iulius. The Goblin army is already at the gates of the Caldaria.”
“I will wait if you are delayed, but not for too long,” replied Anthea with a shrug of her shoulders. “I may be pursued by my father’s forces and have no mind to be brought unwilling back to Niveaus. Do not disappoint me, Elerian,” she concluded softly, her voice intense and her blue eyes suddenly incandescent with longing. Elerian felt as if Ascilius’s hammer had suddenly come down on his head as a yearning equal to her own swept over him.
“Can either of us endure a love that burns so fiercely,” he wondered apprehensively. “I feel that I would die if she was suddenly taken from me.”
Abruptly, before he could make any reply, Anthea’s illusory form was drawn back into the golden thread that stretched from his ring to her own, vanishing through the portal at the end of the gleaming filament.
“Her mastery of the talisman is still not complete,” thought Elerian to himself after Anthea disappeared, “but at least this time we were able to agree on a course of action.”
He did not sleep that night or even walk the dream paths, for his mind was in turmoil, and his blood heated by a desire to be on his way. The sun was just breaking over the horizon in the outside world when he impatiently dragged Ascilius out of bed. When he told the sleepy Dwarf of Anthea’s decision to travel to Iulius, however, Ascilius was not greatly concerned.
“Do not worry,” he advised Elerian. “Anthea is not likely to be in any danger from Eboria, for the dragon is not likely to fly far from her bed with the Goblins so close to Ennodius. Anthea’s horses and her weapon skills will serve to keep her safe from any other threat that she might encounter on her journey. If you set out immediately after my uncle speaks with Herias, you will meet her on the plains while she is still far from the borders of Iulius.”
“My thoughts align closely with your own, but it will still be difficult to wait one more day,” said Elerian restively.
“The time will pass quickly,” Ascilius assured him. “I have much more to show you today.”
Elerian groaned at the thought of examining more mines, but today, after breakfast, Ascilius took him to the forges and workshops on the second level of the city, places that had more interest for him. The scent of hot metal was perfume to his nose and the ring of hammers music to his ears. Despite his eagerness to leave Iulius, he quickly became absorbed watching the Dwarf artisans ply their trades. Although they were wonderfully skilled, Elerian soon noticed that most of them exercised their craft without the aid of magic. When he mentioned this to Ascilius, the Dwarf laughed.
“Even among the Dwarves and the Elves, too, for that matter, mages are not to be found under every rock,” replied Ascilius. “In these workrooms you will see only a few individuals who can shape metal, stone, and wood with their magic.”
Ascilius’s explanation came as a surprise to Elerian. From Tullius's lessons in his youth, he knew that magic was a rare gift among humans, but he had somehow thought it would be different among the other races. Eventually, Ascilius was forced to drag Elerian away so that he could show him the third level of the city. There, as they walked through throngs of Dwarves dressed in brightly colored, hooded tunics, Elerian saw shops which sold ordinary things like swords and armor as well as objects that were quite extraordinary. There were knives that never grew dull and mage lights in all sorts of colors, walking sticks that always found their way home, and any number of other things made with magic and having magical properties. Ascilius offered to buy Elerian anything that caught his fancy, but the only purchase that Elerian made consisted of two small bottles of faceted, cut glass that came with red velvet covers.
Finally, Ascilius took Elerian out onto the slopes of Calidius, for the weather was fine today. The ramp they followed from the fourth level of the city brought them out onto a wide terrace that was covered by green turf shaded by ancient trees. Cutting through the lawn and meandering past the gnarled roots of the trees was a clear stream that raced over small waterfalls before splashing noisily into shallow pools filled with silver trout. Numerous Dwarves were walking about over the neatly cut lawns or sitting on wooden benches under the trees, enjoying the soft evening air.
At the far end of the terrace, a tall tower lit with gold, silver, and green lights rose into the air. Other towers were visible on the slopes around it, their lights making it seem making it seem as if the mountain was studded with precious gems, and the night breeze carried the sound of music and laughter down the slopes. In a comfortable inn that occupied the first floor of the tower, Elerian and Ascilius enjoyed an excellent dinner before retiring to their rooms. Anthea did not appear that night, but Elerian was not overly concerned.
“If she is now riding across the plains, she cannot very well leave her body unattended and at risk in the open,” he comforted himself. To distract his thoughts, he took out the two empty glass containers that he had purchased, filling them with water. Casting the spell for aqua vitae with his right hand, Elerian watched with his third eye as a small golden orb briefly enveloped both bottles. When he closed his magical eye, he saw that the liquid in the bottles now sparkled with a gleaming effervescence that bore witness to the potent state that it had achieved.
“I think that these will do,” thought Elerian to himself as he returned the bottles to their velvet covers. In the morning, one of Eonis’s old retainers called shortly after breakfast.
“You are to follow me to the king’s throne room,” the aged Dwarf informed Ascilius and Elerian. “Herias has returned, bringing the emissary of the Goblins with him against the king’s wishes. At the urging of Herias, Dardanus has agreed to give the messenger an audience so that his words might be disseminated freely to all the people of the city.”
Following behind the steward, Ascilius and Elerian returned to the hall they had first passed through before entering Dardanus’s personal chambers, finding it crowded with Dwarves who had gathered to listen to the Goblin ambassador, their hooded tunics forming a rainbow of colors under the bright lights of the hall.
On the dais, Dardanus sat on his throne with a wide belt of silver links trimmed with pale blue sapphires around his waist and a gold crown set with diamonds and sapphires on his snowy locks. In his right hand, he held a gold scepter tipped with a stone of fiery adamant.
The audience had already begun when Ascilius and Elerian stepped through the entryway to the hall. Walking around the edges of the dense crowd, they made their way slowly to the front of the hall where they could hear and see what was being said. Standing head and shoulders above every Dwarf in the room, Elerian had a clear view of the Goblin emissary. His tall, slender figure, dressed in black velvet, was standing before the lowest step of the dais on which Dardanus had his throne. The only ornament that he wore was a thin silver chain supporting a many faceted, blood red ruby.
“He is an Ancharian,” was Elerian’s surprised thought when he saw the emissary’s face, for he had expected to see an Uruc. Opening his magical third eye, Elerian beheld a red shade instead of the Ancharian, its unusual brightness suggesting an abundanc
e of power, but its shifting, blurred edges concealed the finer details of the envoy’s face.
“He is a mage,” thought Elerian to himself as he closed his third eye. “Whether he is more than that, however, I cannot tell. There is no illusion here, but who can say what his true form may be if he is a shape shifter.”
The emissary now bowed deeply and respectfully to Dardanus. Straightening up, he began to speak in a voice that was melodious and pleasing to the ear, a voice that would sway opinions and soothe suspicions.
“Greetings to you Dardanus, king of the Dwarves from my master, Torquatus, king of the Goblins. I have come before you with an offer from my lord. Meet the two conditions within it, and he will withdraw all of his forces and war with you no more.”
“What does your master require of me,” Dardanus asked, his deep voice sounding harsh and unpleasant when compared to the honeyed voice of the Ancharian.
“First,” replied the Ancharian, “you must send out to his army the one called Elerian along with the sword and hammer that he and your nephew Ascilius forged in the city of Ennodius. After that, you must swear fealty to my lord, acknowledging that he is the rightful king of The Middle Realm.”
“And what will he require of me in return for my fealty?” asked Dardanus, his voice sounding to the ears of the throng in the room like the raucous cawing of an old crow.
“Only that his representatives be allowed access to the Caldaria and the city, so that they might report to him the state of the kingdom,” said the emissary smoothly.
“Say rather that they will report to him all the secrets of our defenses, to our eventual undoing,” angrily shouted Ascilius from where he stood on Elerian’s left.
“Peace nephew,” said Dardanus mildly, but in a voice that carried throughout the hall. “We have agreed to hear what this emissary has to say. Let him finish.” Taking his cue from Dardanus, the messenger resumed speaking in his low, pleasant voice.
“In addition to withdrawing his forces, as a sign of his good faith, my lord will release all of the Dwarf prisoners that he now holds, giving them as much treasure as each of them can carry to compensate them for their captivity. Refuse any part of his offer and he will slay your kin before your gates in the most hideous manner possible, after which he will continue to lay siege to your kingdom.”
A deep silence fell over the crowded room, for the message had raised both fear and hope in the Dwarves assembled there. Elerian could guess at their thoughts as easily as if they had spoken them aloud. If their king swore a seemingly harmless oath of fealty and gave up the stranger in their midst, they would be reunited with friends and loved ones long since given up for lost and gain treasure in the bargain, the last a tempting thought for any Dwarf. If, on the other hand, Dardanus refused the Dark King’s offer, their kin would die and a war they could not win would continue.
Again, Ascilius was unable to restrain himself and shouted out angrily, “It would be base treachery to give up one who has saved so many of our people in the last few days.”
“He should be honored then to save even more of our people,” shot back Herias who had stood inconspicuously up to now amongst the Dwarves closest to the emissary. Ascilius’s face turned red with anger. Before he could say anything more, however, Dardanus’s deep voice rang out.
“Herias, Ascilius, you both forget yourselves! Leave my presence at once!”
Herias reddened and left without a word, followed by Ascilius and Elerian. Out of the corner of his right eye, Elerian caught sight of a pleased expression on the Ancharian’s face when he turned to watch them leave.
“Whatever answer Dardanus gives him, his mission is already a success,” thought Elerian to himself. “News of Torquatus’s offer will sweep through the city and divide the Dwarves one against the other. If the resulting dissension is fierce enough, it may even tumble Dardanus off his throne.”
Once Elerian and Ascilius had left the hall, Dardanus turned back to the emissary, pretending not to see the triumph mirrored in the Ancharian's black eyes.
“I will need time to consider your offer,” he said thoughtfully. “You may retire to a chamber that has been prepared for you. I will call for you when I have made my decision.”
“As you wish,” said the Ancharian pleasantly. Turning gracefully away from the Dwarf king, he followed a guide who had appeared to lead him from the chamber. Dardanus also rose and left the hall, although most of his people remained behind, loudly debating the Ancharian's offer.
“This is not to be borne,” said Ascilius furiously when he and Elerian were alone in their rooms. I am ashamed that my uncle would even consider this offer after all you have done for us. I wish now that I had helped you to leave the kingdom immediately instead of dragging you here to Iulius. Know this, though, Elerian. If my uncle decides in favor of the emissary, I will find a way to get you out of the city even if I have to fight my way out.”
“I would not ask that of you, Ascilius,” said Elerian sadly. “I would not want your people who are held captive by the Goblins to die so that I might live.”
“Elerian,” said Ascilius impatiently, “cast these thoughts out of your mind. It is a grievous thing for me to see my people held captive, but if we accepted any part of Torquatus’s offer, it would work to our undoing. If he does release any captives, it will be those who have been twisted to serve him. Some may even be shape changers disguised as Dwarves. Even the treasure he offers is sure to have spells cast on it which will bend those who accept it to his will.”
“Must we watch helplessly then while he slays his captives before our eyes as he has promised?” asked Elerian uneasily.
“That is only an idle threat,” said Ascilius disdainfully. “Such a sight would harden the heart of every Dwarf in the kingdom against Torquatus, so that even if a thousand years passed, it would not slake their desire for vengeance.”
Before Elerian could make any reply, a heavy, imperative knock sounded on the door to their sitting room.
THE JUDGMENT
When Ascilius opened the door, a Dwarf dressed in bright chain mail was standing in the passageway outside.
“You are summoned at once to Dardanus’s chambers,” said the Dwarf solemnly. “Bring no weapons with you.”
As the messenger waited expectantly, Ascilius turned to Elerian grim faced. At once Elerian pushed the Dwarf out the door, fearful that he would do something rash.
“Let us hear what your uncle has decided before we take any actions that we may regret,” he whispered into Ascilius’s right ear as he continued to firmly urge his companion after the messenger sent by Dardanus. Too late, Elerian remembered that Acer was still concealed in his left boot.
“I will risk Dardanus’s wrath if the knife is discovered,” Elerian decided. “If I give Ascilius a moment to himself now, who knows what he will do?”
“If the decision goes against you, vanish,” whispered Ascilius as they approached the entranceway to Dardanus’s chamber, for two Dwarves armed with axes had replaced the door wardens outside the entryway to the king’s chambers, an ominous sign.
“I will not spill Dwarf blood to gain my freedom,” Elerian whispered back firmly.
“Just do as I say,” insisted Ascilius. “I can create a diversion without injuring anyone, giving you time to escape.”
The argument between Ascilius and Elerian ended abruptly when they entered Dardanus’s sitting room. The Dwarf king was seated in his chair in front of the marble fireplace, but no cheerful fire burned on the hearth today. Sleeping at his feet was his aged dentire. Eonis was also present along with his sons and Herias. The Ancharian was standing sidewise to the left of Dardanus. He favored Elerian with a hungry look when he entered the room.
Ascilius ignored the emissary, striding past him to stand before his uncle with a grim look on his craggy features. Elerian stopped a little behind and to the left of Ascilius where he could watch the Ancharian out of the corner of his left eye.
“I wonder what
Dardanus will decide?” he wondered to himself, surprised that he felt neither anxiety nor fear about his own fate. His concern was for Ascilius, fearful of what the Dwarf would do if Dardanus decided to accede to the emissary’s demands. The sound of Dardanus’s deep voice suddenly interrupted Elerian’s thoughts.
“I have called all of you to my chambers to hear my decision regarding the offer brought to us by Torquatus’s emissary,” said Dardanus gravely. “If there is any dissension between us because of my judgment, we should settle our differences before it becomes common knowledge.”
An eager look now appeared on the Ancharian’s face. Clearly he expected Dardanus to decide in his favor, for he cast a greedy look at Elerian, as if he had already been made prisoner.
“I have known your dark master for all of my long life,” continued Dardanus, addressing the emissary. “If I have learned anything in all that time, it is that he cannot be trusted. While I am alive, the Dwarves will never have dealings with him. Return now to Torquatus with my decision and come no more before me on pain of death.”
Anger darkened the emissary’s face at Dardanus’s words, but before he could reply, Herias burst in ahead of him.
“Only a fool in his dotage would sacrifice our people for this stranger?” he said angrily. “It defies all reason!”
“If you cannot maintain a civil tongue in your head then leave my chambers, Herias,” said Dardanus coldly, his face pale with anger at the insult he had received.
Herias flushed and his dark eyes turned hard as stone, reminding Elerian of a snake coiled to strike. As he turned away from his uncle, it seemed to Elerian that a pleased expression briefly crossed his face before being replaced with a sullen look more in keeping with his angry outburst.
“What is he playing at?” wondered Elerian as Herias stamped angrily from the room. Turning toward the emissary Elerian found that the Ancharian was smiling coldly, as if he found Dardanus’s pronouncement amusing.