Kemoth sulked back and looked at the others before launching into the air and flying off. His hatred for the dwarven people only grew stronger due to the White King.
“When one guardian steps down, another must take their place.” The White King walked over to the edge of the grave and looked inside the hole. “Bartheleth Tiberius Taberlim, you will do well. Awake now, my son. We have work to do.”
The White King turned his back to the gravesite and faced the others. Seconds later, a cough followed by the sounds of spitting could be heard coming from the hole. The others looked on in shock as Barth’s hands reached up and grabbed the snow-covered grass.
“Umm…a little help would be nice.” He said.
“Try jumping, Barth.” The White King said.
Seconds later, Barth flew out of the grave and into the air. He landed a few feet in front of the King. He looked himself over and noticed he was no longer cut open.
“Ba…Barth!” Mange exclaimed and ran forward to hug his brother.
Tears ran over as he embraced him and held him for a time.
“Barth Taberlim, I, the one and only true King of this realm, have a task for you. From this day, I would like you to be a guardian of the kingdom. To serve the people, protect their lives, and if necessary, to give your own in their stead. Is this something you are willing to give your life and dedication to?”
Barth turned and faced the King, “I am ready, my lord.”
“Splendid. Can you perform these duties without being led astray or becoming distracted?”
“I…I believe so, my lord.”
“All of you here today shall bear witness to this. On this day, Bartheleth Tiberius Taberlim has become a guardian. By his own admission, he will do whatever is necessary to protect the realm to which he is assigned. Now, despite your efforts to stay honest and truthful, it may slip from the mouth of a dwarf that this man is now a guardian. That will put his life in danger. Therefore, Barth, you shall be a guardian, but not of this realm.”
Barth nodded. He knew the words were true. If Barth stayed in Umuosmar, he would not only be in danger, but others would be at risk as well. He knew his love of family would tempt him to goof around and spend too much time with his brother. He also knew that Umuosmar deserved a guardian that would give their full attention to protecting the people.
“Say your goodbyes, Barth. I have to take you from this world and place you in another.”
Barth hugged his brother once more, and this time he cried. “I will miss you, Mange. You are the best brother any dwarf could ever hope for. Do be good, and do not worry about me. Take up riding once again. Be the Storm Rider that we both always wanted to be, and whatever you do, do not be lonesome.”
Mange nodded but continued to cry as well. He turned to the White King:
“Will I ever see my brother again?”
“His life is now the life of a guardian. Much like Kemoth before him, he will live a new life until the day comes in which he dies in service. If you have died before him, I promise that I will return his soul to your world so the two of you can rest together. Until then, this world will seem like nothing more than a sweet dream to him. The visions you have of a different world – that is the world in which he will now live. It a world called Earth, and it is war-torn and ravaged. His job will not be easy, but he will do well. When he sleeps at night, he will dream and hear whatever it is you wish to tell him. I will ensure that anything you say to him will reach his ears while he sleeps. When you have visions, you will be able to see him, though he will look different than he appears today. If the time arises that another guardian is needed in this new realm, I will take you there if you have passed on.”
Mange felt the weight of the world pour out on him. He would never get to speak to his brother again, until they were both dead once more, or under the circumstances not likely to happen.
“I am happy that you will be alive, brother. I am so euphoric for it, but I am not sure I can bear the weight of knowing I can never speak to you again.”
Barth nodded. “I understand, dear brother. Fret not, it will be all right, I promise. I am needed elsewhere now.”
The dragons and dwarves alike watched as Barth stepped into the light that penetrated the snowy skies above.
“In this new world, you shall be known as Bartholomew. Do not worry, guardians are awaiting your arrival, and they will train you. Godspeed Barth, and remember your vows.”
In the blink of an eye, Bartheleth Tiberius Taberlim was transported to a new world, to serve a race of people called humans. He would do well there, and stories of his adventures would be told for generations to come.
40
The third day arrived, and with it, the self-proclaimed goddess of the elves made her way into the heart of Thirndor; her army stood with her. She had seen a blood oath sworn only one time in her existence, and she knew the terms for such a thing would not benefit her if she allowed her guard to be lowered.
“Well then, where is the skinder that dared blow the horn?” she snapped at a dwarf as she walked down the streets with her army in tow.
“I am here, demon,” Sharp said as he pulled the hood back from his makeshift jacket. “As soon as the others have arrived, we shall begin.”
“Get back! All of you! Get back, or I kill the tavern wench!” Avalore’s voice rang out amid the cacophony of chaos, which already had everyone on edge.
“I will not be held captive in this damned place one more minute!”
The crowd thinned out as Fogrolir stepped forward and stood next to Sharp. As Avalore came into view, Sharp’s demeanor changed as he saw the elf’s arm wrapped around Nanseen’s neck, a small blade pressed against her throat.
“You stupid dwarves! You stupid, stupid dwarves! Do you know who I am? Do you? I am the Queen’s brother! You think you can hold me captive here. You are nothing! Nothing! I do not serve you!”
Vulred heard the commotion and ran forward to address his brother-in-law. He stopped short when he looked into the elf’s eyes.
“Avalore, I made you a promise when we crossed paths in the woods. I told you if you angered me, or if I saw you before my business was finished in Thirndor, that you would die. Now you have taken an innocent woman, and you dare to hold her hostage? Release her now, or today will be your last day to breathe.”
The Demoweir was happy with all the distractions and especially happy at the threat of death. Once the horn was blown, there was to be no more fighting. If Sharp, or anyone else, touched Avalore, they would have to pay with their own blood. It was her plan all along – divide, conquer, and make a guardian commit an act that could only be abolished by that guardian’s death.
“You will not touch me, you weak little fool. I belong to her now,” he pointed at the Demoweir, “and she will slay every last one of you! You will not touch me, or any others that belong to her.”
Vulred raised his arm and shook his head in disdain.
“Avalore, why are you doing this?” he asked.
“Because I should be the leader of Faswary! I should be deciding which wars our people get involved with, not you! When my master is finished with these dwarves, she is going to dismantle any elf that stands in my way. I will have the elven throne, and under her command, we shall conquer this realm!”
The remaining elves in Thirndor stepped forward and raised their bows with arrows already notched. Avalore had just threatened the Faswarian King, and they would defend him with their life.
“No one fires an arrow,” Sharp said as he looked in Vulred’s direction, “if any mortal harms another while under the command of the blood oath, they will be punished with death.”
Avalore laughed and began to press the blade against Nanseen’s throat even harder.
“I am no longer a mortal. So this tavern wench does not matter!” he laughed.
“I was never a mortal – and your life has been forfeited.” Sharp stared at Avalore; a new fire burned within him.
Befo
re Avalore had a chance to respond, a dagger left the hand of Sharp found its home in the skull of Avalore. It sliced right through his eye and embedded itself with nothing but the hilt left outside the eye socket.
Screams and cries erupted from the dwarves as Avalore’s body went limp. The blade fell from his hand as he careened backward and slammed into the ground with a thud. The back of his skull pressed against the blade on impact, and blood began to run out and pool about his head.
“You fool! You know the rule of the old magic! You have broken the terms of the blood oath, and for that reason, your life shall now be forfeited!” the demon woman laughed maniacally as sparks began to tremor about her fingers.
She stared at continued to laugh. At last, she raised her hands a giant bolt of electricity shot forward at the tiny skinder. There was a thunderous boom, and everyone was knocked off their feet – even the she-devil herself.
As she stood, ready to command her army to finish the dwarves, a look of confusion and shock shone in her eyes. There, standing in front of Sharp, was the White King. Next to him, his son – the Gray Prince.
“You shall not touch him, demon.” The White King spoke in an even tone. His chiseled features stood out, and everyone knew they were in the presence of royalty – the ultimate royalty.
“He killed one of my men after the horn was blown! You know the rules!”
“I WROTE THE RULES!” his booming voice rang out, forcing everyone to cower back.
“He is not a mortal, demon. However, he is not a mere guardian that you may kill in provocation. If a guardian slays a creature after the horn has sounded, then that guardian must be killed. You know that rule, you devil. Sharp, however, is not a guardian.”
The Demoweir regained her confidence as the reality set in, and her bravado returned.
“If he is not a guardian, then he is…” her voice trailed off, but her eyes were full of realization.
“That is right; he is the Curator of this realm. He answers only to ME.”
“Someone must stand in his stead. You, the White King, know this to be true. It is in the rules! Who then, could possibly be worthy of standing in the place of a curator?”
Tremors began to shake the earth. The cold air became foggy, and the snow started to melt. Moments later, a fireball scorched the ground in front of the Demoweir, and a beast that towered above all others stood tall. The demon woman recognized him at once – it was her master.
His face was that of a wolf, with horns protruding from both sides of his head. They spiraled upward, some six feet above his skull. A crown, made of barbed wire and bones sat atop his brow. The wires cut into his head, but no blood flowed forth. Instead, his skin opened and closed wherever the blades cut through, and fire was on the other side.
A robe covered the rest of his body, except where two tattered wings, the size of a wyvern’s wings, protruded through the garment. His eyes, full of fire and hatred, stared downward at the White King.
“There is only one who can satisfy the bloodlust of my realm!” his voice was deep. With each word the beast spoke, the earth trembled.
“This I know, Sandolorn. I know the rules of the realms.” The White King stared at the creature called Sandolorn. He was not afraid of the monster.
“Then let it be done!” his tone was menacing, but the White King and Gray Prince did not budge.
The White King looked around to ensure that all the inhabitants of Umuosmar were present. As far as the eye could see, every creature capable of speaking filled the streets, mountains, and more. The last few inhabitants of the land filed over the mountains took their place to see the blood oath agreement be signed.
“After today, this conquest of hers is over.” The White King pointed at the Demoweir. “As with any oath, there are terms which must be met and agreed upon. Now then, demon woman, speak your terms, that we may negotiate.”
The Demoweir stepped forward and stood next to her master. Her arrogance shone through like a brilliant light in complete darkness. She thought she had the upper hand.
“I lay claim to the dwarven throne and all the inhabitants therein. They will obey my command and remain loyal to me, without question. In return for their loyalty, I shall not harm them unless they get out of line.” She smiled and folded her arms.
The ogres, giants, and cyclopses were enraged.
“She aims to make us her slaves!” one of the giants yelled. “Never! We did not march on Hegh Thurim just to bow down to this witches demands!”
The White King held up his hands for silence. Everything became quiet.
“I will give you the dwarven throne that you may be the queen of this land for now. However, you will rule over only those who willingly follow your command.
“I will rule ALL inhabitants in this…”
“Shut up, demon. I am not finished speaking. On this day, everyone here will swear their allegiance to whom they will serve. Those that have willingly followed your command will remain in your service. This includes your precious giants, ogres, cyclopses, and even the couple of Chaotic that survived the war. They are yours to command. Anyone who does not wish to serve you will instead serve me – the rightful King and Lord of this realm.”
Sandolorn growled and moved forward.
“Now is not the day for you to perish, Sandolorn. Step back and do not approach me again.”
The demon of the underworld of magic stepped back.
“Everyone in attendance today, you will now kneel. Bow your heads and seek in your hearts whom you will swear your allegiance. I tell you this one time and only one time – I am the King of this world, and if you serve me, your reward will be great when you pass on to the other side. If you wish not to serve me, your fate will be worse than anything you can possibly fathom.”
Sandolorn raised his head and looked at all the creatures. Dragons, reophuse, wyverns, leolfs, giants, ogres, cyclopses, skinders, dwarves, elves, a faun, pixies, and even a few sprites were all within his sightline.
“Do not listen to this fool! If you serve him, the only reward you have is death; for my protector of this realm will not stop until you are all dead.” He said with conviction. “The White King is no king at all. Just a false practitioner of magic. Tell me, any of you here today – if he is the champion of this realm, then why are we here? This could have been avoided with one single swipe of his hand if he were really as powerful as he claims.”
The Demoweir spoke once more, “I will accept your terms, on one condition, White King.”
“Go on, I am listening.” He replied.
“He must be punished! Take his power away, banish him, or something else, but I want him to suffer!” she pointed at Sharp.
The Gray Prince looked at his father, and though no words were spoken, the demon could tell something was said.
“Sharp, step forward my son.” The skinder rose to his feet and stood in front of his Lord. “This is the agreement I am willing to make. I will forfeit Sharp’s life, nor his power. However, since he knowingly and willingly killed a man after the horn was blown there must be a punishment.”
He stared at his Curator. Sharp already knew the penalty, as it was discussed millennia’s before this day when the White King realized what the Demoweir’s plans were.
“Sharp, you shall become the symbol of things to come. From this day forward, you will wear these golden bracelets on your wrists. While these bracelets remain in place, your power is forfeit. The only way to remove these bracelets and return your abilities is when the day comes that an innocent that willingly serves me is killed. When that day comes, your bracelets shall unhinge and fall to the ground, and you have my permission to use your powers once more to protect these people; and to reclaim the throne for the kingdom which it rightfully belongs to.”
He turned his attention back to the Demoweir, “Are these terms satisfactory?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “None of my men will harm any of those who swear allegiance to you. As long as I am free t
o treat my people as I see fit, there will be no issue with this arrangement.”
“Good. Then let us decide who our guys really are. If you are willing, from this day until you die, to serve me, the rightful King of this world, separate yourself from the tares of this demon woman and kneel on this side of the town.”
Dragons and leolfs and even some wyverns moved from the eastern side of Thirndor and planted themselves firmly on the western side, behind the White King. They knelt once more as a sign that they would forever follow the laws and rules of the White King.
“If your allegiance is to Sandolorn and his minions, remove yourselves from this side of the town and kneel before your master, whom you shall willingly serve from this day forth.”
Creatures stood and made their way to the opposing side of town. They were as diverse as those who chose to serve the White King. Dwarves, dragons, wyverns, leolfs and more all moved to the Demoweir’s side of town.
“Remember this, those of you who serve the demon woman. She has full reign over your future. I shall not intervene to stop her on your behalf. You have chosen your fate, and with it have decided to serve your master, and so shall it be. The blood oath is in effect, and no one shall bring harm to my men.”
Sharp’s arms felt heavy. He looked down and saw the gold bracelets wrapped around his wrists. They were shaped like the body of a snake, and the head of the snake ate its own tail to complete the circle.
Demoweir's Rise (Great War Chronicles Book 2) Page 33