Council of War
Book 3 of Demonstone Chronicles
by
Richard S. Tuttle
Copyright © 2006 by Richard S. Tuttle.
All rights reserved.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Our story so far…
In Knights of Alcea the kingdom was awakened from its peaceful slumber when the Alceans discovered a growing rebellion, a rebellion unlike any other. Mysterious priests swore allegiance to Balmak, a previously unknown god, and were spreading seeds of discontent throughout Alcea. As the danger grew, the Knights of Alcea were drawn back into the king's service, and they soon discovered that the rebellion was tied to other ominous events. Elves attacking human villages, and humans attacking dwarves were events unheard of since the forming of Alcea, and together with the rebellion, they seemed designed to bring Alcea to the brink of disaster. Yet, the picture was still not clear enough for Alexander Tork. While all of the problems put together might bring chaos to Alcea, he knew that there had to be more to the sinister plot. Eventually it was discovered that a massive army from an unknown land across the waters was waiting for Alcea to be weakened before attacking.
The Knights of Alcea destroyed the Temples of Balmak and ensured that no division would exist between the races of the kingdom, but they knew that their actions were not enough to ensure that the attack by foreign forces would be stopped. King Arik set out to reorganize and bolster the forces of Alcea to meet the coming invasion, but that was not enough for Alexander Tork. During the course of battles against the mysterious priests, Alex stole a Zaran ship, the Remora. He pressed the king for permission to go to the unknown land and determine the weakness of the enemy. King Arik, believing that Alex would go regardless of permission, finally gave his blessing, but he limited the party to only five Knights of Alcea.
In Final Voyage of the Remora, Alex enlisted the aid of three Alcea Rangers and three elves of Glendor to join with the five Knights of Alcea. He hired a captain and crew and set out across the ocean with only a rough chart to guide them into the unknown. The journey was troublesome from the beginning. Two Zaran spies had managed to get themselves included in the crew, and the enemy was waiting for their arrival. Driven by strange dreams, Alex unwittingly outmaneuvered the Zarans and landed in the Endless Swamp. The landing turned out to be fortuitous as the Knights of Alcea made many important contacts including Haditha, the water witch, Sidney Mercado, the merchant, and Morro, the elven thief. Prince Rigal also made contact with the Dielderal elves and discovered that the Federation holds them as slaves. To ensure the Federation's control over the Dielderal, all elven children are taken out of the Elfwoods and kept in reeducation centers in the major cities of the Federation.
Volume two of the Demonstone Chronicles ended with the destruction of the Zaran invasion fleet. It also ended the chances for our heroes to return home to Alcea. Captain Gomery, Haditha, and two sailors were not rescued along with the others. While Captain Gomery and Haditha made it to safety, Loman and Tyroma were never found. The rest of the heroes, knowing that each day of delay would buy Alcea more time to prepare for war, vowed to continue to wage covert actions against the Zarans, but they have been confined to the lost city of Aranak, which is deep under the sands of the desert.
As volume three begins, King Arik and the forces of Alcea are still trying to root out the spies and infiltrators in their midst. In Zara, the forces of the Federation are still searching for the Alcean spies, and patrols have started entering the Sands of Eternity, bringing them much too close for comfort. Knowing that they will have to leave the desert soon, Alex, using his Garth Shado alias, decides that he needs to visit the city of Giza so that he can figure out where to move his people to keep them safe.
Prologue
King Granarik stood at the mouth of the goldmine on the Isle of Despair. The king of the dwarves was tired, and every bone in his body felt weary with the strain of leadership. The old king blew a silver whistle, sending a shrill note into the mouth of the mine. As the dwarves began to lay down their tools and file out of the mine, the weary king walked to a large boulder and sat down. He gazed at the exhausted dwarves as they shuffled out of the mine. The king noted with sadness that there was no singing, no merriment, not even a smile upon the occasional face. He sighed heavily.
The dwarven women gathered around the mine entrance and waited for their husbands to appear. When a woman saw her husband, she silently took his hand and led him away. No words passed between the couples for there was nothing to be said. All that awaited the miners and their wives was a quiet meal and a short sleep before it started all over again. There would be no drinking or brawling. The Empire prohibited drinking, and the miners were too exhausted for anything but sleep. There would be no need for time to spend with the children because the dwarves steadfastly refused to bear any children while in captivity. The Empire would only take the children if any were born, and the dwarves refused to let the emperor have that additional control over them.
King Granarik sighed again and shook his head in despair as he watched the dwarves trickle out of the mine. A large crowd of women stood waiting for their husbands, but the miners had stopped exiting the mine. The king frowned with concern.
"Where are the rest?" called the king. "Have they not heard the whistle?"
The last few miners out of the mine glanced in the king's direction, but no one answered the question. The miners continued to shuffle off.
"This is Drak's work, isn't it?" scowled the king. "Get me my son!"
The dwarves ignored their king and let their wives lead them to their patches of rock they called home. The king's face grew red with anger, and he leaped to his feet to berate the miners ignoring him. As he did so, a searing pain shot through his chest. The king brought his hands to his chest as his knees buckled. Before the king could topple to the ground, two dwarven women raced forward and caught him. They eased the king to the ground.
"Someone get Prince Drak!" shouted one of the women. "The king is not well."
One of the miners dropped the hand of his wife and raced into the mine. The women gathered around the king with concern. King Granarik opened his eyes in confusion and gazed up at the circle of women around him. He feebly raised a hand to touch one of the women, but he could not bear the exertion. A woman took his hand and held it comfortingly while they waited for the prince to arrive.
Prince Drak had been working in the deepest chambers of the mine, and it took a long time for him to arrive. During that time the king's ragged breathing smoothed and the pain dissipated. He tried to rise to a sitting position, but the women would not let him move. In resignation, the king sighed and remained still. He did not even have the energy to fight the women of the camp.
"What has happened?" called Prince Drak as he ran out of the mine and knelt next to his father.
The king tried to smile, but the expression was clearly strained. "The women find me irresistible," he quipped.
The prince looked up at the women with concern etched on his face. "Leave us, please," he said softly. "Go back to your places. Your men will not be up for several hours yet."
"I blew the whistle," scowled the king. "The work is done for today."
"It is the last day of the month," retorted the prince. "We have not made our quota. We must continue working."
"No," the king replied adamantly. "I am still the king, and I have blown the whistle. The work is to be stopped now. Get me up."
"You know what K'san said last month," countered the prince. "He will not accept another month below quota."
"Get me up," demanded the king.
"He will kill you," pleaded Prince Drak.
"I command you to get me up!" snapped the king. "Or get out of my way."
Prince Drak's face clouded with hurt, but he would not allow his father to kill himself by trying to get to his feet. He waved the women away and helped the king rise to his feet. The king grunted with exertion, but he nodded with satisfaction.
"Now sound the whistle again," demanded King Granarik, "or I will go down into the bowels of the mine and drag them up here."
"They will ignore the whistle," the prince said to the miner who had gone into the mine to summon him. "Go down and tell them that I said to quit work."
The miner nodded and disappeared into the mine. Prince Drak led his father to the large boulder and eased him into a sitting position. He then knelt and stared into his father's eyes.
"Why?" he asked softly. "You know what K'san will do to you. Why not let us work through the night to make the quota?"
"You cannot make the quota," the king replied. "Even if you all worked through the night, you cannot make it. The gold vein is running out."
"Then we will find a new vein," stated the prince. "Father, I cannot stand by and watch K'san kill you."
"Then do not watch when it happens," shrugged the king. "My life is at its end, whether K'san takes it or not. Let the men rest. They need it so badly."
"Aye, they do," agreed the prince, "but you must know that we are all willing to die for you. The men volunteered to stay and work. I did not even have to plead with them."
"Of course you didn't," smiled the king. "They love you, and they would do anything for you. That will come in handy starting tomorrow."
"Don't talk like this," pleaded Prince Drak. "I have no desire to lead our people. I cannot do it."
"You can and you must," declared the king.
"Why?" scowled Prince Drak. "Why should we work for the emperor? Is it not better to make a stand and fight them to the death? At least our deaths will mean something that way. It is far better than being slowly worked to death."
"No," retorted the king. "It would be a senseless slaughter. Dwarves were born to mine gold. Find a way to take the strain off the men and life will get better."
"You have tried everything over the years," sighed the prince. "It is impossible."
"Nothing is impossible," countered the king. "You are far smarter than I am. You will come up with something, but do not give in to a suicidal confrontation with the Empire. Protect our people and keep them ready for the day when we will throw off the yolk of slavery."
Prince Drak wanted to point out that that day would never come, but he had had this conversation with his father many times, and it had never changed anything. He fell silent rather than prolong the conversation. A few minutes later, the miners began to file out of the mine. They glanced briefly at the prince and the king, but they didn't speak. They silently took the hands of their wives and were led away.
"They are all out of the mine now," Prince Drak said softly. "Let me take you to your place."
"No," the king shook his head. "Leave me be. I may not make it through the night, but I will be right here when K'san arrives in the morning. I don't want to give him the chance to take out our failure on you. As long as I am here, he will have to deal with me."
"Then I will stay with you," promised the prince.
"No," replied the king. "Go and sleep. Tomorrow will begin your reign, and you will need sleep to handle it."
"I will need a lot more than sleep to take your place," Prince Drak said with a tear in his eye. "I would rather take your place in the morning and face K'san instead of you."
"Nonsense," smiled the king. "You have always underestimated your own abilities. You are a son that makes me proud, Drak. You will do what I have failed to do. Now go and sleep."
Prince Drak knew the king's words as a command, not a request. He hugged his father and dutifully rose. The king closed his eyes to make the parting easier on Prince Drak. The prince remained for a moment, wanting to say something special as a final farewell, but the words would not come. He turned and shuffled into the darkness.
The dwarven prince tried to sleep, but he could not. Eventually he rose and walked to a small beach on the edge of the island. It was a forbidden area for the dwarves, but the prince did not care. The Empire no longer kept guards on the island as there was no place for the dwarves to go. There was no land in sight in any direction from the Isle of Despair. The prince sat in the sand and stared out at the stars twinkling over the dark sea. He mentally tried to come to grips with the death of his father, but he could not. He had always looked at the king as a rock that the whole tribe depended on. Despite his father's comforting words, Prince Drak knew that he could never replace the king. He had neither the desire nor the skills to take the place of King Granarik. Slowly his thoughts turned to what might happen if he did not take the crown that was rightfully his. Would another dwarf step up to claim it? Would they all refuse? And what would K'san do if no one accepted it?
His thoughts turned dark with despair as he tried to envision the future of the dwarves. Whether he became king or not, the dwarves were doomed to extinction. He knew that none of the couples would willingly bear a child to have it taken away, so when the last dwarf died, the mining would stop. In a small way, it was a defiant act taken against the Empire that the Emperor was powerless to change. Perhaps, he wondered, it might be better to die sooner rather than later. Without a conscious thought of what he was doing, Prince Drak rose and began stripping off his clothes. He folded them neatly and placed his ring and necklace atop the pile. As he stood naked on the beach, he suddenly realized what he was doing. He looked down at his neat pile of belongings and nodded in agreement with his unconscious decision. The dwarven prince turned and spied a cliff farther down the beach. He walked slowly towards it and climbed to the top. Closing his eyes, Prince Drak dove off of the cliff.
The water stung as his body plowed through the surface, but the prince paid no attention to the pain. He dove forcefully downward, not in search of the bottom, but rather in search of peace. After a few moments his mind began to whirl, and he lost control of his arms and legs. As blackness enveloped him, the dwarven prince smiled thinly and let the darkness claim him.
Unexpectedly, air was forced into his aching lungs. His eyes popped open to see a field of gold flowing before him. The prince had not known what to expect after death, but he felt another presence around him. More air was forced into his mouth, and he felt the pressure of lips against his own. Frowning in confusion, he shook his head. That was when he saw the face of an angel. It was a human face, but it was beautiful beyond comprehension. The prince struggled to make sense of what was happening, but he could not. The lips met his again and more air flowed into his lungs. His mind began to function again and he reached out and touched the human. He was surprised with the sensation of feeling his fingers against her flesh. It was a sensual feeling and he heard laughter as he tried to concentrate on the feeling.
Suddenly the angel moved back, and the prince got his first look at her. The woman was naked, but she wasn't human. The top half of her was human, but the bottom half was that of a fish. He shook his head in confusion again, and the laughter returned. The angel moved in again and pressed her lips to his. Another dose of air found its way into his lungs, and he began to feel stronger. It was only then that he realized that the creature was trying to save his life. His despair began to return, and he tried pushing the woman away, but she was far stronger than he was. With a flick of her tail, the woman shot around the prince and grabbed him from behind. Prince Drak felt the sensation of water flowing past him as if he were wading in a river. In just a few moments, he felt his feet dragging on sand. Prince Drak gave up the battle against the woman as she slid him up onto the beach near his pile of clothing.
"You must have fallen into the sea," the melodious voice stated. "Good thing I happened to be around."
The prince wanted to be angry about the resc
ue, but he could not suppress the warm feelings he felt for the creature. He stared at her as if she were the most beautiful creature to ever exist.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am called Samar," smiled the woman. "You are the one they call Prince Drak. Are you not?"
"Yes," frowned the prince. "How do you know who I am?"
The creature merely smiled.
"I didn't fall into the ocean," offered the dwarf. "You had no need to save me. I will just have to try again."
"Why?" frowned the angel. "It is not right to throw your life away."
"It seems right to me," replied the dwarf. "I cannot be king of the dwarves, and my father lies dying outside the mine. I no longer wish to live."
"You must," retorted Samar. "Who will lead the dwarves if you do not?"
"That is not my problem," countered the dwarf. "Nor is it yours. You must not stop me the next time."
"It is my problem," frowned Samar. "I am responsible for your being here. I will not let you die."
"How are you responsible?" asked the prince.
"I guided the ship that brought you here," Samar said sadly. "I wish I had not, but I cannot change what has happened."
"You?" balked the prince. "I did not see you aboard. An old woman guided the ship that I was on. They called her a water witch."
"We age outside the water," stated Samar. "We are not meant to be land dwellers."
"I am confused," declared Prince Drak.
"Legends call us mermaids," explained Samar, "but the Zarans only know of us as water witches. We have the ability to adopt a human form on land, but it ages quickly. This is our true form."
"And you work for the emperor?" Drak asked suspiciously.
"We guide his ships," admitted Samar, "but we do not approve of what the Baroukans do. We are a peaceful people and do not condone slavery. There is talk among those of my kind of refusing to work anymore, but we are afraid that we will be killed."
"It seems as if the emperor enslaves everyone," frowned the prince. "Maybe you should just drag me to the bottom. It would save me a trip back up the cliff."
Council of War Page 1