The Wealth of Kings

by Sam Ferguson

  He feared for Roegudok Hall greatly. Even in his prime, with thousands of warriors under his command and enough treasure to supply every desire, they had failed to conquer the deeper mines. If the future king would rule during a time of famine when the dwarves were recovering from a massive war, how could they hope to prevail?

  Sylus finished the book that morning, wrapped in his woolen blanket.

  He ended it with a warning.

  “Beware not to squander dwarven blood; it is far more precious than treasure,” Sylus said aloud as he penned the runes onto the page. He sat back from the book and sighed. He could only hope the book would survive long enough to reach the king who would need it.

  A knock came at the door.

  Sylus called out and said, “Come in.”

  The door opened and in walked a stout, muscular dwarf with black hair and a long beard. “You wanted to see me, Sire?” the dwarf asked.

  Sylus smiled and nodded his head. “I do indeed, Kizpa.”

  Kizpa moved into the bedchamber and bowed to his king. “What can I do for you?”

  Sylus stood slowly upon his feet and pushed the chair away. He slid the blanket off of his shoulders and moved to the right side of his desk. His left hand went down, grasping the handle of Murskain. He lifted the hammer with a bit of effort and held it out for Kizpa.

  Kizpa looked to him with a furrowed brow, his green eyes glancing from the king to the weapon. His mouth opened to ask a question, but Sylus spoke first.

  “Your father served me well as a captain in the army,” Sylus said. “He served valiantly until the great battle with the demons.”

  Kizpa nodded reverently.

  Sylus continued. “Your brother serves me now, making medicine that keep my body strong after the demon’s poison entered my blood from the wounds I received in battle. Without his aid, I would have died weeks ago.”

  Again, Kizpa nodded.

  “And then, there is you,” Sylus said with a smile on his face. “You remind me of my son, Ravik. You act like him, and you think like him.” Sylus pressed the hammer into Kizpa’s chest. “Take it,” Sylus commanded.

  Kizpa took Murskain in his hands and studied the weapon. “It is magnificent, my king,” he said.

  Sylus nodded. “It is the symbol of the protector of Roegudok Hall,” he said. “As I am without any sons, and you are without father, I am hereby adopting you into my line.”

  Kizpa’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Sire, there are dwarves better than me—”

  Sylus shook his head and narrowed his eyes on Kizpa. “You have been my personal servant since the battle with the demons. You know everything about ruling the mountain. You accompany me to court. You have seen how to govern the needs of the people. You shall succeed me when I die. I have already announced this to the counselors.” Sylus pulled a rolled parchment from his pocket and held it out for Kizpa. “Kizpa Sit’marihu, you shall be the sixth king of Roegudok Hall. From that day forward, the crown shall be passed down to your heirs. I expect you to train them well, as I have trained you.”

  Kizpa nodded, but the expression on his face displayed his lack of confidence. “Sire, I don’t think I can do this. I have been with you only a short while. It would take much more time to prepare me for this.”

  Sylus stretched his hand out and placed it upon Kizpa’s shoulder. “I have constructed a secret library down the hall. There, I will place all of the knowledge and resources you shall need to rule effectively. Moreover, it will serve as an excellent means of tutoring your heirs and preparing them to one day take the crown.” Sylus turned to his left and indicated the book he had just finished. “I will place this in there as well. It is a book describing the mines, and the dark omens preceded by the bloodgrass. I want you to promise me that you will ensure it is kept safely in the library.”

  Kizpa nodded. “I promise.”

  Sylus nodded back and smiled. “Promise me two more things,” he said.

  “You have only but to ask, and I shall do anything,” Kizpa replied.

  “The first, is I would have you promise to place a stone tablet in mine thirty-seven. I want it displayed in front of the mithril portcullis, so that any who find the gate can plainly see the warning.”

  “What shall I write upon the tablet?”

  “Beware not to squander dwarven blood, it is far more precious than treasure,” Sylus said.

  Kizpa nodded.

  “The second demand I have is that you ensure our people are never enslaved by the Ancients again. Throw out their traditions and religion. We can never go back to cowering under their wings, do you understand.”

  Kizpa hesitated at this, but he nodded his head and promised to do as the king instructed.

  Sylus smiled and then looked back to the book. “Take this book. Read it. Once you have finished reading it, we will place it in the library.”

  Kizpa moved to reach for the book and took it in hand. He read the rune on the cover. “The Wealth of Kings,” he said aloud.

  Sylus held up a finger. “That rune on the cover also has a second meaning,” he said.

  Kizpa cocked his head to the side and nodded. “Duty,” he said. “The Duty of Kings.”

  Sylus nodded. “The king that seeks for the treasure in the mines below must weigh the need for treasure against the duty to protect the dwarves of Roegudok Hall. That is why I chose this particular rune. Be sure that your heir understands this.”

  “Of course, my king.”

  For the next forty-eight years, Kizpa shadowed Sylus everywhere, learning all he could about ruling Roegudok Hall. When Sylus finally succumbed to the demon’s poison in his veins, Kizpa took the throne with every intention of following Sylus’ instructions to the letter. However, as time passed under the reign of the sixth king of Roegudok Hall, the library Sylus built was sealed away. The book he wrote, The Wealth of Kings, was secreted away inside a large desk in the library. Kizpa thought it wiser to hide the knowledge of the book, rather than tempt any future king with the rumored treasures in mine thirty-seven.

  The truth of The Wealth of Kings faded into legend. Then, over the centuries that dragged on into eons, legend became myth, and myth faded to rumors until all within the mountain forgot the truth of mine thirty-seven.

  CHAPTER 14

  Year 3,711 Age of Demigods, Late Autumn.

  2nd year of the reign of Aldehenkaru’hktanah Sit’marihu, 13th King of Roegudok Hall.

  It had been several weeks since the demon had managed to launch a surprise attack in the main hall. The Home Guard was left with twenty dwarves, including Kijik, barely enough to patrol the main hall for any sign of trouble. The dwarf king still replayed the events in his mind over and over. If only he had prepared better. If he had been able to create the poison crossbow bolts he had read about in Sylus’ book, then they could have put the demon down before it destroyed most of the Home Guard. He knew it wasn’t his fault. There hadn’t been enough mithril on hand at that time to create the shafts, and Sylus had explicitly said the powdered poison needed to be applied to mithril. As it was, Al had been fortunate that Benbo had been marching a contingent of cavedog riders back in from practicing maneuvers in the valley outside of Roegudok Hall when the demon attacked. Had they not been as near the main hall as they were, many citizens would be dead now in addition to the slain Home Guard members.

  Ever since that attack, the army had been put on its highest alert. Two thirds of the warriors were down in the lower tunnels. The other third was split into two groups, one that would remain in the main hall, and one that would accompany Al to a strange, mithril gate the miners had recently reached in mine thirty-seven.

  Before this day, Al had not been properly prepared to lead the charge.

  He had spent the last several weeks creating a new set of armor for himself during whatever down time was left after issuing orders to Benbo and Kijik. Fortunately, the two officers were highly capable and needed little direction. Essentially, they sought only
to confirm their plans of action and receive the approval of the king. Al was thankful for that. It was hard enough to calm the folk of the mountain as it was. It also freed him to work on his armor, which was what he was supposed to be focusing on now.

  His hand went down, beating the rim of metal into place. He tried to focus on his work, but his mind pulled him back to the tragedy with the demon in the marketplace. Al shook his head, forcing himself to think of something positive. At least the investigation into Threnton’s treacheries seemed to have gone well.

  No groups of rebels had been found in the forest or valleys beyond Roegudok Hall. Benbo and Kijik had even managed to root out a couple of Threnton’s spies that had tried to escape from the mountain. More than that, the captured spies had given up the location of Threnton’s hideout. It took only a week for Benbo to clear the hideout and bring the traitors down. As for the majority of the emigrants, they had dispersed throughout the Middle Kingdom, so Al ordered that they should be left alone. All things considered, it had worked out about as well as any scheme involving Threnton could have.

  He then thought of the new well that had been discovered adjacent to the existing well that had dried. Gemma had been on one of her rounds, inspecting the pipes and hoping to find water rising in the old well, when she saw water seeping in through the walls. It took little effort to connect the new well to the existing plumbing. Food was still being rationed, and would run out within a couple months if nothing changed, but at least they had fresh water again. It appeared that the shifting of the Mystinen had not depleted the first well so much as it had diverted it into a different shaft. As that shaft began to spill into a small chamber, the water had eventually worked its way through the rock.

  Al set his hammer down and looked at the new breastplate he had created. The base layer was made of iron, but he had fused iron with the metal from his ceremonial armor to improve its durability and create a second layer to cover the base layer. The outer layer was what he was most proud of, as well as slightly ashamed of. If Alferug had seen what he had done, there would have been much wailing and shouting. Al smiled to himself as he held up the breastplate. It was, perhaps, a bit sacrilegious, but it was appropriate as well. Al had been so distraught and frustrated by his lack of preparedness for the demon that had attacked the marketplace, that as soon as the battle had ended, he had stormed up to his forge immediately. He hadn’t planned on doing it, but when he saw King Sylus’ armor on the pedestal, an idea struck him and he acted on it. Sylus had beaten the demons before. So now, Sylus’ armor was removed from his pedestal in the hall of kings before the throne room. Al had melted down and reformed everything but the Telarian steel greaves, those were perfect as they were.

  The purely decorative parts he had, of course, set aside to be sent to the Greenband. However, the resulting outer layer for this new armor was extremely efficient. Despite the many layers, the armor was lighter, more maneuverable, and much stronger than anything else Al had at his disposal. The entire suit of plate mail armor appeared black to any other observer. Only Al knew of the second and third layers underneath. He called out to his apprentices and they put down their hammers and approached him.

  Al slipped into the thick leather pads and then held his arms out.

  His apprentices began attaching each piece of armor on him, starting from the black boots, all the way up to the helmet. The entire process took twenty minutes, as there were several smaller joints and plates that had to be attached separately. Al had designed this suit of armor with utility in mind, foregoing the added artistry and fine details that would normally be present in a king’s suit of armor in exchange for speed, and maximum protection and mobility. Still, this morning he had woken to find four runes etched into the breastplate and lined with some of the silver that Al had set aside after melting down his ceremonial armor.

  His apprentices had used the dwarven runes that Al had spoken of during Alferug’s funeral; honor, truth, courage, and duty. He would have normally beaned an apprentice with a lump of coal to the back of the head for touching his work, but in this case, he made an exception and thanked them for the gesture. When Al looked at the suit of armor now, it was as if he was being guarded by both King Sylus and Alferug.

  When he was finally suited up, he made his way out of his personal forge, through the throne room, and out into the hall of kings. His eyes lingered upon each of the pedestals he passed as he thought of the great heroes that had come before him. He stopped when he saw Sylus’ now empty pedestal. He pointed to the wall.

  “My hammer will not do for this battle,” Al told his bodyguards. “Fetch me Murskain. By Sylus’ own hammer shall I vanquish the demons below.”

  When he was handed the weapon, it was almost as if Al could feel a connection with it. The metal seemed to vibrate ever so slightly, as if it was a living thing. The dwarf king gave it a slow practice swing and admired its perfect balance. It was solidly built, yet Al’s strong arms manipulated the weapon easily.

  He smiled and then they descended the stairs to the main hall.

  Five hundred dwarves waited next to their cavedogs for Al. They saluted him upon sight, slapping armored fists to their chests with a loud cacophony of clanking iron. Al held Sylus’ hammer over his head. The soldiers looked to him expectantly, as if waiting for some motivational speech, but Al had not prepared anything of the sort. He was used to playing the part of the soldier, and not that of a king. He stood there, surveying his fellow dwarves, trying to think of something he could say. What words could he offer that would give any of them more courage than they had already shown?

  As the seconds passed, women and older dwarves drew near from the marketplace, watching their king.

  Al frowned behind the visor of his helmet. I should not have stopped. Now they really expect me to say something.

  But what could he say that would offer the wives and mothers any confidence that their sons and husbands would return? He took in a deep breath as he lowered Sylus’ hammer. He set it down upon the stone floor and rested his hands across the bulky head of the weapon. He surveyed the crowd, and for a brief moment he thought he could see Alferug standing in the crowd.

  Al reached up and lifted his visor to get a better look, but the apparition had disappeared. Al searched the crowd, trying to recapture the brief glimpse he thought he had seen. Then, in the back of the crowd, he saw a faint, silvery glow. Alferug stood in the air. Next to him floated Al’s father. Behind them stood ten other dwarves. All of them were caught in an other-worldly mist that none of the other dwarves seemed to notice.

  One of the floating dwarves stepped around Al’s father and pointed to Al. “You are destined to find the Wealth of Kings,” the familiar voice said. Al knew at once it was the same voice he had heard before in the tunnels. The spirit then waved his hand in the air and Murskain felt warm in Al’s hands. “My hammer shall guide you as you protect our people.”

  Al realized then that he was seeing Sylus.

  “My king, is everything alright?” one of the bodyguards asked with a slight nudge to Al’s right side. Al turned to nod at the guard.

  “Yes, everything is fine,” Al said. He turned back to look at his father and the other past kings once more, but they had vanished from sight, returning back to their plane. Al sighed, wishing he could call them back and ask them for strength and guidance.

  Murskain grew warmer in Al’s hands. In that instant, he knew that the kings of old were with him. His eyes were opened and the veil between the realm of the living and the plane of the dead was rent in twain. He saw thousands upon thousands of dwarves he did not recognize. Each of them were gathered around the warriors waiting for Al. In that instant, Al knew that there were far more allies with him than the demons below could possibly withstand.

  Al lifted the mighty Murskain in the air and shouted out through the hall, his booming voice echoing off the walls. “Let us not fear death, for death is only the doorway to a new life. Instead, let us go down with fir
e in our hearts to cleanse the invaders from our halls. Our battle is not one only for Roegudok Hall, but also for all of Terramyr. The world may never know of our struggles here today, but if the gods themselves only knew what it is we fight for, they would bow to us in reverence.” Al swung the hammer up and then slapped it down into his open palm. “Your ancestors are with you today. They give you strength. Welcome that strength. Use it. By the Ancients who created us, I declare that we shall overcome the darkness lurking within the bowels of this mountain. In purging that darkness, we shall find the means to overcome a much greater foe. Some of you know of what I speak, the rumored four horsemen that have been whispered about in the wake of the war we fought in the Middle Kingdom. When Tu’luh fought against us at Fort Drake, he came as the harbinger of the four horsemen. We now, the dwarves of Roegudok Hall who were formed of the very stone of this mountain, shall gain the means to repel the cursed horsemen, and in so doing we shall win life and liberty not only for ourselves, but for all of Terramyr.”

  Al hopped down the last several stairs and leapt onto his cavedog. “We ride!” he shouted.

  The dwarves shouted and cheered around him as they fell in behind him. Al led the army down through the tunnels. They rode for miles through shallow descending tunnels and around the winding shafts that branched out below the mountain. It took them hours, even upon their cavedogs, to reach their destination.

  When they finally met up with the other two thousand dwarves, they were met with cheers and cries of excitement. Al surveyed the warriors and smiled when he saw the preparations they had made. There were ballista launchers, hedges of stacked stone, and side tunnels that allowed for dwarves to retreat out or attack the enemy flank should any demon somehow make it up this far. Some of the engineers had balked at Al’s insistence, but Benbo was quick to bring the others around to the idea after Al explained not only how they could have been used in the market to kill the demon, but also how big Sylus had reported some of the demons to have been in the final battle which Sylus had waged in the great cavern which was supposed to lay at the end of shaft thirty-seven. Al expected trouble, a lot of it.