The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5)

by A. Giannetti

  “You will regret this decision,” he said mockingly to the Dwarf king. “Will your people support you do you think after we start slaughtering their friends and relatives one by one in the most horrible ways possible before your gates?”

  “You have my answer,” said Dardanus coldly. “Leave me now and do not try my patience further.”

  When one of the door guards came forward to escort him from the room, the emissary turned as if to go. Then, with startling rapidity, his shape began to flow like water, taking on the black, horrific form of a lentulus, its scarlet eyes burning with hate and anticipation, the silver chain that it had worn in its other form still gleaming on its broad, furred chest. Pushing Elerian out of the way, the guards sprang bravely at the shape changer with upraised axes, but with a lightning swipe of its clawed right paw, the lentulus tore out the throat of the nearest Dwarf. Choking on his own bright blood, he fell to the floor. The second Dwarf brought his ax down on the lentulus’s left shoulder where it joined the creature’s thick neck, but the keen blade, made of the best Dwarf steel, barely penetrated into the stony hide of the shape changer. Like a black snake, the lentulus’s thick tail whipped forward. The claw concealed in the sleek black fur at the end of the appendage flicked across the Dwarf’s throat, bursting the links of his mail and leaving a thin, red line in his flesh which suddenly gaped open like a bloody mouth, spilling out his life’s blood.

  Elerian, who had just recovered his balance, felt his third eye open as the lentulus’s mouth gaped wide, his magical sight allowing him to see the crimson orb that flew from its jaws toward the entryway of the chamber. When the lock spell struck, it spread into a film of red light that covered the entire door, but it did not fade away when it had accomplished its purpose, for a thin tendril of crimson light joined it to the lentulus, continuing to feed it power.

  “The doors are sealed,” hissed the shape changer, crouching on four legs, the steely muscles beneath its sleek hide flexing and contracting restlessly as if it could not decide whom to spring on first. “Take your last breaths now, for this chamber will run red with blood before I am done.”

  Behind Elerian, Eonis’s sons thrust their father and uncle behind them, protecting them with their bodies, for none of them was armed. With a determined look on his craggy face, Ascilius took a position on Elerian’s right side, the fallen ax from one of the slain door guards clutched in his powerful right hand. Dardanus’s aged, snarling dentire crouched by his right leg.

  “Open the doors and get the others out,” Ascilius said quietly to Elerian. “Teroc and I will hold the creature off for as long as we can.”

  “Open them yourself,” replied Elerian quietly as, bending down in a swift, supple move, he drew out with his left hand silver-hafted Acer from the sheath concealed in his left boot. The argentum traced into the blade gleamed silvery white as Elerian held up the knife in front of him. With new hope in his eyes at the sight of the magical blade, Ascilius stepped back to give Elerian room to fight.

  At the sight of Elerian’s magical weapon, anger distorted the black furred face of the lentulus, but there was no fear in its red, pitiless eyes. Its leathery snout wrinkled back, exposing rows of white teeth sharp as razors.

  “The weapon you bear will slay you as soon as you touch it to my stony flesh,” said the lentulus contemptuously in a harsh, snarly voice. “No human has the power to slay me.”

  “I am no more human than you are,” replied Elerian in an amused voice as he ended the illusion which disguised his true form. A cold light, fearless and terrible, shone in his gray eyes as he stood suddenly revealed before his enemy.

  With a snarled curse, the lentulus started back. Then, recovering from its initial surprise at being suddenly confronted by an Elf, it spread its toothy jaws a second time. Elerian’s third eye sprang open, revealing the crimson orb that suddenly leaped from the creature’s mouth. An instant before the killing spell struck his chest, Elerian saw a golden film of light spill from the silver ring that gleamed on the second finger of his right hand, covering him from head to toe. When the shape changer’s spell struck that golden cloak, it was drawn at once into his ring without doing any harm.

  Seeing that his spell had failed, the shape changer snarled in disappointment and dismay, for he had hoped to burst Elerian's heart with his killing spell. He sprang now like a striking snake, black, hooked claws gleaming at the ends of the powerful, stubby fingers that he reached out for Elerian.

  Quick as thought, Elerian darted to his left, avoiding the steely talons of the creature, one set of which still dripped with the red blood of the Dwarf it had slain. Deftly switching Acer to his right hand, he caught the lentulus’s claw tipped tail in his left hand when it flicked at his throat. As it squirmed in his hand like a thick, muscular serpent, the lentulus suddenly reared up on its hind legs, towering over Elerian as it twisted its upper body toward him. Its huge left paw swept down, the speed of its strike making it a blur to the eye, but Elerian was quicker still, stepping and leaning back just far enough that the creature’s talons sliced though his tunic and shirt instead of the flesh beneath them. Before the lentulus could strike again, Teroc lunged forward, seizing its left wrist just above the point where it joined to the paw. Ignoring the dentire, triumph lighting up its fiery eyes, the lentulus darted its head and upper body down, its ugly snout spread wide to engulf Elerian’s face and head. Off balance, Elerian dropped his knife and desperately reached up his right hand, seizing the lentulus by the furred skin beneath its jaw before being borne over onto his back, the lentulus’s front paws planted firmly on the floor on either side of his body, Teroc still unsuccessfully worrying its left front leg with his massive jaws.

  To the Dwarves in the room Elerian’s arm, for all its long, steely muscles, seemed too slender an instrument to oppose the huge bulk and corded thews of the lentulus, but the monstrous head bearing down on him slowed, nonetheless. It did not stop entirely, however. Straining his arm until the sinews creaked, Elerian watched helplessly as the gaping jaws of the lentulus inched toward his head, close enough now that the creature’s hot, foul breath washed over his face.

  Suddenly, a broad hand knotted with muscles appeared beneath the lentulus’s hairy chin, cupping it and arresting its downward motion. The mighty thews of his right arm starting out like granite ridges, Ascilius, who had sprung on the lentulus’s back, slowly drew the head of the shape changer up and away from Elerian.

  Releasing his hold on the lentulus’s neck, Elerian groped on the floor for Acer with his right hand. The cool, ridged haft of the knife was suddenly pushed against his palm by Cordus who had run to retrieve the knife when Ascilius leaped onto the lentulus’s back. With inhuman speed and strength, Elerian thrust the knife into the throat of the shape changer which Ascilius had exposed when he drew the monster’s head back. Argentum gleaming silvery white, Acer’s cold steel slid easily through the stony hide and flesh concealed beneath the lentulus’s velvety black fur, its keen point finally severing the spine of the shape changer.

  As Elerian drew deeply from his own power and the accumulated power in his ring to withstand the shock of the thrust, a scream so high as to be painful to the ears penetrated the room, issuing from the lentulus’s gaping mouth. Rearing up suddenly on its hind legs, it wrenched itself away from the deadly blade that had penetrated its seemingly invulnerable body, leaving the knife clenched in Elerian’s right hand. Mortally wounded, the creature shook off both Ascilius and Teroc in its death throes before collapsing onto the floor in front of Elerian, black blood flowing from its fatal wound to form a glistening, steaming puddle on the polished stone floor beneath its head.

  Rising to his feet and stepping back to avoid the deadly blood spreading across the floor, Elerian staggered as a wave of weakness swept over him, for his knife had drunk deeply of his vitality. Drawing on the remaining power stored in his ring, he held his position, for having witnessed the deaths of other powerful mages, Elerian knew that the struggle was not
yet over. His third eye suddenly opened, revealing a shimmering crimson shade in place of the body of the lentulus. A thin thread of scarlet light suddenly sprang from the ruby it wore on its broad breast, disappearing through a tiny portal which suddenly began to grow and expand to the left of the shade. The scarlet hands and arms of a second shade suddenly reached through it, seizing a hind leg of the lentulus. As the body of the creature was abruptly drawn into the portal, Elerian cast out several golden tendrils of light from his shade, using them to seize the scarlet shade of the lentulus which, despite its furious struggles, remained behind in his grasp as the rest of its body disappeared through the portal which suddenly vanished.

  “You shall not escape me like Malevolus,” Elerian informed the captive shade as it took on the tall, slender outlines of an Uruc.

  His escape route cut off, the Goblin now struggled to overcome Elerian, seeking to wrest his body away from him. Too late, he realized that the energy he expended was only strengthening his opponent by feeding the silver ring that he wore. Reduced to a tenuous scarlet shadow, the Goblin suddenly ceased to struggle in Elerian’s grasp.

  “What shall I do with him?” wondered Elerian to himself as he continued to grip the scarlet shade of the Uruc. “I cannot take the rest of his power unless he offers it freely. Neither can I release him. He is too weak now to steal another’s life force, but if power were ever offered to him freely, he would grow strong again.”

  Determined to make the Uruc resist him, Elerian invaded the creature’s shade, trying to wrest away from it the memories it still held. Instinctively the Uruc fought back. By the time he realized his mistake, his shade had vanished entirely, the last of its life force consumed by the brief struggle.

  “Sarius,” thought Elerian to himself as the consciousness of the Uruc faded with a last despairing cry in his mind. “That was his name. All else that he knew he took with him.”

  Closing his third eye, the first thing Elerian saw with his normal sight was Ascilius’s worried face. Although he lacked mage sight, the Dwarf had guessed at the invisible struggle that had taken place. Assured now that it was over, he lifted Elerian off his feet and, despite his protests, carried him over to a chair by the fireplace before thrusting a cup of wine into his right hand. He and Elerian then watched with somber faces as the armed Dwarves who had spilled into the chamber when the lock spell was broken by the death of the lentulus took away the bodies of their slain comrades. Quincius and another steward attempted to mop up the lentulus’s blood, but the steaming black pool consumed every piece of cloth that touched it before finally vanishing on its own, like steam from a boiling pot. Finally, Dardanus sent everyone but his family away before taking a seat near Elerian.

  “You are a difficult fellow to deal with Elerian,” said Dardanus dryly in his deep voice. “On the one hand you disobey my command to come unarmed into my presence. Then you save my life and the lives of my family, making it impossible to hold any rancor against you.”

  “It was not my intention to give offense,” replied Elerian gravely. “I am so used to carrying a knife in my boot that I forgot it was there.”

  “A happy accident,” said Dardanus,” else this emissary of Torquatus would have slain all of the royal family.”

  ‘Except Herias,” thought Elerian to himself with sudden suspicion. “Was it chance or some darker purpose that took him from this room?”

  “I warned you that no good would come of dealing with Torquatus’s creature,” Ascilius reminded his uncle. “Herias should never have brought him into the Caldaria.”

  “He is young and hampered by impatience and inexperience,” said Dardanus dismissively. “Time will cure both faults.”

  “Intentionally or not, Herias has allowed Torquatus access to the heart of our realm,” replied Ascilius somberly. “Those were Goblin hands that drew the lentulus through the portal. Will Torquatus be able to return to this room?” Ascilius asked, turning to Elerian.

  “I think not,” replied Elerian after a sip of his wine. The talisman which led him here went with the body of the lentulus. To fix this place in his mind, Torquatus would have had to enter here through the portal so that he might see and feel its physical boundaries with his own eyes and mind.”

  “There is no harm done then,” Dardanus assured Ascilius. “Now then, Elerian, what are your plans? I have rendered my judgment in your favor, so you may stay here in Iulius without fear if you wish.”

  “I appreciate your generosity my lord, but I am minded to leave Iulius for Tarsius, for I have pressing business there,” replied Elerian.

  “Ascilius has told me that you wish to wed Orianus’s daughter,” said Dardanus with a smile. “Fortunately, there is a secret way out of the Caldaria that leads to the pass through the eastern mountains. Ascilius can show you where it is.”

  Elerian threw a surprised look at Ascilius, who looked both guilty and smug at the same time.

  “You will not go empty handed either when you leave, Elerian,” continued Dardanus warmly. “I have a gift here for the services that you have rendered to me and my people.”

  Opening a small wooden chest that rested on the floor by his chair, Dardanus lifted out, with his right hand, a pair of supple leather saddlebags that would not be too burdensome to carry. Opening one of the flaps, he exposed a collection of shining jewels before handing the bags to Elerian. “It would please me, if you take this, too, as a wedding present,” said the old Dwarf, taking a small silver case, its cover worked with ornate designs, from his pocket. After taking it into his hands, Elerian raised the cover, exposing a magnificent necklace lying on a bed of white velvet. Heavy links of twisted silver held a string of cobalt blue sapphires that would exactly match Anthea’s eyes.

  “There is no need for such extravagance,” Elerian heard Eonis mutter. “The gems along would have sufficed.”

  “I thank you for your generosity my lord,” said Elerian to Dardanus, suppressing a smile at Eonis’s comments. A sense of relief swept through him, for it seemed that in the space of a few moments all of his problems had been solved. He now had a path that would lead him to Tarsius and a treasure for a bride price. After he met Anthea on the plains, they could return to Niveaus instead of assuming the role of fugitives as they undertook a dangerous and uncertain journey to the Abercius. With the treasure given him by Dardanus, they could have the wedding that Orianus had promised them. If they eventually left Tarsius as Anthea wished, it would be by choice not necessity.

  “I have nothing as splendid that I can give in return, but I have prepared these for you and your brother,” replied Elerian. From their blue velvet wrappings, he took the two small bottles of cut crystal that he had filled with aqua vitae. “Use these sparingly, for the liquid is potent as your brother may tell you,” he said to Dardanus as he handed a bottle to each of the old Dwarves. “It will banish old age for a time and fill you with vigor and well being.”

  “This is a gift more precious than diamonds to the aged,” said Dardanus as he pocketed his bottle. “I give you my blessing, Elerian, to protect you on all the paths that you may walk in your life, for I do not know if we shall ever meet again. The fourth age is ending, and I fear what the next age will bring,” he said sadly. Turning to Ascilius, Dardanus said, “I give you my blessing also nephew. You have made me proud with your deeds.”

  “This seems almost a farewell between them,” was Elerian’s puzzled thought as Ascilius and his uncle embraced. He noted that Eonis, too, seemed puzzled by the display of emotion between his brother and Ascilius.

  “May we meet in better times,” said Elerian to Dardanus. Then, with Ascilius at his left side, he left the chamber of the last king of the Dwarves in the east of the world, completely unaware that his old disguise had slipped over him again so that the Dwarves who saw him after he left the king’s sitting room saw a human man, his graying hair and worn face attesting to the difficult life that he had lived instead of a gray eyed Elf.

  “Why didn’t yo
u tell me that you knew a way out of Iulius?” Elerian asked Ascilius once they were out of earshot of Dardanus.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” said the Dwarf innocently, a pleased smile on his face. “It was also quite entertaining to see you vexed for a change,” he added slyly.

  It was a measure of Elerian’s happiness that he did not immediately begin plotting his revenge against Ascilius for the anxiety and uncertainty that he had suffered over the last few days.

  “I will let him win this one time as a going away present,” he thought to himself. “Who knows if we will ever see each other again once I leave Iulius?

  THE DEPARTURE

  “Can we leave at once?” Elerian asked Ascilius after they returned to their chambers.

  “I had planned on it,” replied Ascilius. “Without the body of the lentulus to prove the treachery of the Goblins not everyone will be comfortable with Dardanus’s judgment when it becomes known, for there are many in Iulius like Herias, young and inexperienced in the treacherous ways of the Umbrae. Some are certain to resent the fact that Dardanus has refused to trade you for their kin so, to avoid trouble, it would be best if we left this evening. Have you thought yet on how you will find Anthea in the immensity of the prairie once you are away from Iulius?”

  “When I made the basin for Orianus, I also made two rings,” said Elerian, stripping away the illusion that concealed the ruby ring that he wore on the smallest finger of his left hand. Ascilius at once bent closer, examining the ruby set in Elerian’s silver ring. The blood red, faceted stone burned with a soft crimson light one moment and went dark the next, maintaining a regular cadence which reminded him of a heartbeat.

  “A golden thread which is visible to my third eye connects this ring to its twin which Anthea wears on her own left hand,” continued Elerian. “I have only to follow the thread and it will lead me unerringly to Anthea’s side.”