by Jordan Cramm
Chapter 11: The Would-Be King
The following day, Gorak and Fenka were topside, which was an unusual occurrence, but just the same, news had reached him below the city that a large amount of Izenians and Elves had arrived topside, and that among them was a War Mage of the Izenian race. He did not come topside for an autograph or as a celebrity hound however. His intent was set to his own purpose. As for Fenka, she reluctantly agreed to go along with Gorak, telling him that with what he had in mind, she knew her intervention might be a necessary thing. And though he wouldn’t admit it, Gorak knew she was probably right.
“I swear. This topside business is not to my liking,” Gorak grumbled as he climbed the tunnel toward Elender.”
“Don’t tell me you are worried about falling into the sky?” she chided.
“Always so foggin clever woman. No I am not worried about the damn sky. It just doesn’t feel right up here is all…no stone to protect us, and the air is so…I dunno, thick I guess.”
“Well if this goes well you won’t have to endure it for long. We should find the governor. No doubt she will know where the new arrivals are.”
“First good foggin idea I heard all day,” Gorak said as he spit some tobacco on the ground, “damn it is bright up here.”
“Always enjoyable to follow after you Gorak. Never a dull moment.”
“Huh?” he grunted as he shielded his eyes a moment from the sunlight above.
Ahead of him he saw the battlements at the city gates, and people going to and fro, Elven, Izenian, and of course Humans. He shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t go topside often true enough, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing the city so populated and busy.
“Do you remember the way to the government building Gorak?” she asked.
“No foggin clue,” he remarked. “You?” he asked.
She shook her head no.
“Oh fog it…” he grumbled as he stepped toward an Izenian man and tried to be polite. “Uh sir,” he spoke in a groveled tone, “do you know where I can find your War Mage?”
The Izenian man stopped and nodded slowly. “Sure,” he said, “probably in his tent still with the Princess. Quite a wild night last night.”
“Princess?” Gorak whispered to Fenka before turning back to the Izenian man. “Could you be more specific?” he asked.
“Yeah,” the man remarked, “just outside the city and through the main camp road. His tent borders our people and the Elven camp. I am sure you can ask around until you find it. Might go quicker if you had a horse though. I mean…sorry…CAN you ride?”
“Of course I know how to foggin ride! What, just because we live underground you assume we can’t ride?”
“It’s fine,” Fenka jumped in now trying to diffuse Gorak’s anger and tone, “we can walk,” she told the Izenian, “thank you for the help.”
As they walked on toward the main gate, Fenka stepped closer to Gorak and began to whisper.
“I didn’t know you could ride a horse,” she said with a half-smile.
“I can’t,” he grumbled.
Fenka began to chuckle as she shook her head in disbelief.
“Not horses anyway…too tall. But give me a good cave ram and I can ride just fine.”
“Well duh,” she remarked, “but we didn’t bring any.”
“Woman would you quit reminding me of our troubles?” he goaded. “Sheesh, it’s enough to drive any Dwarf mad.”
“Right,” she returned, “your madness is my fault. Sorry about that.”
“Hmmf.”
Quietly they continued on, asking directions at various intervals as they went. Overall, the main camp road had been easy enough to follow, but on foot it was slow going, and Gorak had no intention of missing the tent they were looking for because they somehow passed it by. At last though, they approached what he assumed had to be the right one, because they saw four guards dressed in all black outside of it standing on duty. As Gorak approached, one of the Black Cloak Guards raised a hand and told the Dwarves to halt.
“Who are you, and what is your business here?” Flint Calmbreeze asked at once.
“I am Fenka, and this is Gorak. We seek words with the War Mage, and we were told that this was his tent. Are we in the right place?”
“Indeed so, but I don’t know you. What words would you have with our War Mage Dwarf? He has not even been out of his tent yet this morning and likely still sleeps. If you would like I could pass on a message to him.”
“Now you listen here,” Gorak demanded as he pulled his war hammer from his back, “either you go get the War Mage, or he can come out when you call for help. Either way, what I have to foggin say is for his ears, not for his foggin lackeys. What’s it going to be?”
Flint just blinked before he and the other guards started laughing. Clearly, they weren’t taking their new visitors seriously, or as a threat. One of the other Black Cloak Guards even stepped forward saying he would handle it, but before he could unsheathe his sword, Gorak swung his large war hammer toward his legs and ripped it backward quickly, taking the Knight off his feet instantly. Then, Gorak brought the hammer down upon his chest, making a ruckus when his hammer struck armor. At this point, Fenka pulled her shield from her back and gripped her own axe in hand, pulling it from its own sheath as she stood ready.
Flint began barking to the other guards to kill the Dwarves, but the commotion caused Wolflen to step out of the tent. He told his guards to stand down, and then he stepped forward, eyeing the situation.
“That man there,” Wolflen started in, looking at his guard on the ground, “is one of mine Dwarf. I don’t know who you are, but that is a poor way to get my attention.”
“We don’t want trouble,” Fenka chimed in, “we came seeking you out actually. We want to talk.”
Wolflen shot his glance over to her and could tell she was more reasonable than the one with the war hammer in hand. He looked back at the male Dwarf now as he gave his reply.
“I don’t know either of you. So if you want to talk to me I suggest you turn over your weapons to my Captain there. Do that, and we will talk in my tent. Do it not, and you either better be ready to die, or be ready to run.”
“The Forgotten Ones are not afraid of death,” Gorak said.
Fenka stepped toward him and put her hand on the shaft of his war hammer, causing him to lower it. She was shaking her head no, telling him to turn over his weapon so that they may do what they came to do. Gorak grumbled, but after a moment, he handed the war hammer over to Flint, and then Fenka too handed over her axe and shield.
“Good,” Wolflen remarked, “now let us talk inside. Flint, get that man to the medical tent immediately.”
“Yes sir.”
Wolflen turned back toward the tent and spread the two large flaps that served as the door, and he told the Dwarves to follow him. Inside, Katrina was sitting at the main table and finishing her breakfast as their guests entered. As a kindness, she stood and welcomed them, asking if they would like her to prepare some tea.
“Don’t suppose you have ale instead?” Gorak asked.
Fenka hit him on the arm for his forthrightness and rudeness. Still, Katrina was polite about it and asked if he would prefer Elven Tika wine or Izenian Rum. Gorak nodded and said he would prefer the rum, saying he had never been partial to wine.
“I’ll get it honey,” Wolflen said, “you finish your breakfast. You two, have a seat at the main table there if you will.”
Gorak and Fenka were slightly hesitant to oblige his request, but they did so just the same, pulling out chairs at the table and then sitting. A moment later, Wolflen returned from the pantry to the main room, setting goblets before each of them, and then filling them from a bottle he had in hand now.
“So,” Wolflen began after pouring the drinks and then rounding the table to sit next to Katrina, “who are you, and what brings you here?”
“Name’s Gorak and this is Fenka,” he replied, “and I am here to ask you to help se
ttle a touchy matter below.”
“Wolflen, and this is Katrina Trueshot, Princess of the Elven people. Your display outside might not be so offensive if you were to tell us what matter below is so important as to disturb our breakfast.”
“We got wind you were a War Mage,” Gorak said, “and in times past, they were only ever Elven. Our people don’t know much about War Mages, but what we do remember is that in past ages, the Dwarves often aided the Elves when War Mages were in the world. We never had official treaties, but plenty of foggin Dwarves fought and died through unofficial alliances with Elves and Izenians. So I heard a new War Mage was in the world, and was here topside. That, to my reckoning could be helpful. The word of a War Mage might carry some weight among the Dwarves of Elender, maybe even enough to sway that grum of an assembly down there.”
“I see,” Wolflen replied, “and what matter are you in need of assistance with exactly?”
“Not long back I came across a Voodian find; a big one. Now, Voodian is a rare substance. So rare and so precious among Dwarves that kingdoms are built with it. It’s a liquid in pure form, but spread it on cave walls and take flame to it, and it becomes underground light that is cool to the touch and will never burn out. We tunnel and dig sure enough under Elender, but to build a proper Dwarven kingdom with vast expanses of underground levels, one has to have light. A city only a few levels deep can rely on other forms of light, but a proper Dwarven kingdom spans over a hundred levels deep in most cases. That is difficult to do without light. Well that foggin assembly says they are unsure about supporting me as a new King. By right, the Voodian find is mine alone, but it might help to have a War Mage supporting me, before they find a way to conveniently kill me and take it from me, or they try and haggle me some more.”
“I see,” Wolflen said as he watched Gorak and Fenka take their first drink.
“Damn that is good stuff,” Gorak grinned, “been decades since I had it last.”
Wolflen nodded.
“So what exactly do you want Wolflen to do?” Katrina asked.
“We thought,” Fenka remarked politely, “that if he could at least talk to them and request that they cast their support for Gorak, that maybe they would change their minds. At the very least it might make them pause if they thought a War Mage was involved. It might dissuade any thoughts they might have against him involving theft or violence.”
Katrina nodded.
“Well,” Wolflen said as he stood a moment and pursed his chin, “I had a mind to visit the underground recently, but after taking council here topside I was beginning to think it would be pointless.”
“Pointless?” Gorak asked.
“Yes. You see we are here on Molith for war. I had thought that the ability to move underground might spare our force some of the terrors that Molith has to offer topside. I thought maybe we could travel in speed underground, and that in so doing we might actually arrive at our destination before the enemy got there in force. But after pouring over maps, I am not sure that the underground would be a feasible travel method to get to our destination, and besides, I hear that the assembly you speak of would not likely permit a large force to travel their tunnels underground anyway. That, and I have been advised that if we sought Dwarven allies here, we would be best served to seek out King Brosha because Gral is rather…well temperamental.”
“That’s the foggin truth of it alright,” Gorak said, “but if I were made King below, I would be in charge of any Dwarf that chose to stay in the area or follow my lead to another of my choosing where I would build my kingdom. I wouldn’t guarantee everyone would follow me. Some say I am just a drunk. Others still might resist for other reasons. But with a following I could help gain you an alliance with some, raise a Dwarven army to aid you, and allow you whatever underground access you needed. Would that be enough to get you to speak to the assembly?”
Wolflen cast his glance at Katrina, and in their own unspoken way, she responded with a simple expression that told him it might be worth a try. He stepped back toward the table once more and nodded.
“Let’s get one thing straight first,” Wolflen remarked, “I didn’t strike you down for my man outside because I had my own desire to speak with those of your race soon. But if I agree to this, then that kind of behavior is at an end. Ally or no, I expect different in the future, because if that sort of thing begins to become common, I will enter the underground with a fury you don’t want to know, and you will see what we can do. Having said that, I am willing to speak with your assembly for whatever that is worth, so long as you also know that I cannot make you any guarantees. I am not Dwarven obviously. I know less about your people and politics than I did about the Elves when I first encountered them, and that wasn’t much. Also, if I do this, I will travel with a small detachment of guards, and I will go fully armed. If your people see that as threatening and attack, I will slaughter your kin, and our deal will no doubt be in jeopardy. But, if these terms are agreeable to you, then so be it. What say you?”
“I say,” Gorak huffed, “I hope I don’t foggin regret this…thanks for the drink. We will await you back at the gates of Elender and from there we will show you the way. Can I expect your man outside will return our weapons, or will we be showing you what WE are capable of?” he barked questioningly.
“They will be returned. We will meet you at Elender’s gates shortly.”
Gorak nodded and stood first before Fenka could do the same. He gulped the last of his goblet, then grabbed the bottle that was still on the table, turning quickly. Fenka remained a moment longer to linger for more words.
“Apologies Wolflen, and to you Princess,” she began, “he can be brutish at times I know, but he really does mean well.”
“You came as his ambassador didn’t you?” Katrina asked.
Fenka merely nodded before turning and leaving the tent herself.
“I had forgotten,” Katrina began, “just how…lovely dealings with Dwarves can be.”
“I’m not sure I like this. If his actions outside were any indicator of what kind of King Gorak wishes to be, then casting our lot with him might be unwise. On the other hand, the chance for allies and guides here in this foreign continent cannot be ignored either.”
“Well you already made your decision…to at least speak with the assembly. Perhaps after doing so, you will better know how to proceed from there.”
Wolflen nodded.
“I’m sorry m’lady,” he went on, “that they interrupted your breakfast.”
“It’s fine. We knew we couldn’t stay in this tent forever right?”
Wolflen offered a grin as he replied, “Oh I don’t know…I have grown fond of our time together.”
Katrina blushed and remarked, “As have I. But come on, we have work to do.”
They both left the tent and found Sespa eager to take them where they wanted to go. Their first stop had been the medical tent, where Wolflen checked on his guard. Katrina had commented that it was likely the Dwarves were waiting on them, but Wolflen didn’t care. To him, it was more important to see to his own man, and besides, he had said after Gorak’s behavior, the Dwarves deserved at the least to stand waiting now. Katrina couldn’t argue with his logic there.
Wolflen’s guard and friend was okay the healers had said; he needed to rest, and would have some deep bruising for a week or more, but he would be okay. Meanwhile, the rest of the Black Cloak Guard apart from two left guarding Wolflen’s tent, were awaiting the news of their injured comrade. Wolflen quickly put their tensions to rest however as he gave them the news about their fallen brother. Afterwards, they followed him as he rode back to King Janureen’s tent, finding Jakarta and Ayvock both there. Wolflen said he wanted the army to begin its march soon, but that before they chose their plan of action, they needed to speak with the Dwarves below the surface. The three agreed to follow Wolflen, Katrina and the detachment of their Black Cloak Guards. So together, their company traveled on horseback; apart from Wolflen and Katrina of
course, who were still riding Sespa.
At the gates, they met Gorak and Fenka who were waiting, seemingly with agitation to have to do so. Still, Wolflen made no apologies. In fact, when Gorak commented about the size of the company Wolflen had with him to simply speak with the assembly, Wolflen told Gorak that he could take it or leave it; that Wolflen had no absolute need to speak with the Dwarves, and so it was up to Gorak. After some grumbling, Gorak relented, much at the behest of his partner Fenka, who assured him it wouldn’t matter once the Dwarven assembly below Elender knew who Wolflen was, and who the few who traveled with him were. Of course King Janureen had wanted to bring a detachment of guards himself, but decided with Wolflen the War Mage and with Jakarta his First Knight, he would be safe enough. Besides, in the short time he had spent with Ayvock, he began to grow fond of him as well, finding him amusing and yet confident.
“So you and Ravenshade then?” Wolflen asked of Ayvock as they slowed their mounts and followed Gorak and Fenka into the tunnel system near the Elender gates, “I mean you guys are a couple then?”
“I don’t know what we are Wolflen,” Ayvock returned, “She has been huffy ever since our match at your festival. I think I sort of scared her with the draw result.”
“Wasn’t that how it was supposed to end?” Katrina asked as she hugged Wolflen.
“It’s how the inspiration for the match ended. And sure,” Ayvock replied, “I was certainly giving it my best during my match with Ravenshade, but if you are asking me if the outcome was pre-planned, then the answer is no. I’ve practiced with her enough though to learn a few of her moves. I guess I just took advantage of that fact during our match.”
“But you two kissed I heard,” Jakarta said as he and the Elven King trotted up to join the front line as the cavern way opened wider, “which I find a strange thing indeed.”
“Wolflen has been running his mouth too much,” Ayvock jested, “but it’s true. We’ve kissed, and then some. And while these two are reluctant to give details about THEIR relationship, I can tell you that Ravenshade is not quite as shy in private as she seems to be in public, but that’s all I am going to say about that given the company…you Elves seem to have current news about everything whether you should or not. Biggest rumor mill I have ever seen.”