The tent flap opened and King Ganix entered. His bright smile and casual demeanor immediately offended Halvar. Why was he not in despair?
“Do I smell whiskey?” Ganix said, plopping into a chair and snatching up the bottle from the table.
“What do you have to be so cheerful about?” Halvar grumbled.
His fellow king took a long drink then sighed with satisfaction. “Cheerful is not the word I would choose, old friend. Believe me when I tell you that my heart aches terribly. But we must press on.”
Halvar sat bolt upright. “Press on! How are we to do that? Everything we are is crumbling before my eyes.”
“What is crumbling? The mountain? Elyfoss? Both can be mended.” He gave a fatherly smile. “I know what really troubles you. And it is not what Shinzan has done to your home.”
“Has your mind been broken?” Halvar shot up from the cot, yanked back the tent flap, and thrust out a hand to point at the mountain. “Do you see that? Look at it, damn you.”
Ganix stood up and did as Halvar said. “I see it very well, thank you. And I can also see you. Shinzan has only wounded us, and the trolls will repair the mountain in time. It is the elves and the humans who have brought me to my knees.”
“Speak sense.”
He sighed. “Like me, you are finding it difficult to come to terms with the future. Even in victory, the dwarves will diminish. There are so few of us already. The elves outnumber us, and the humans even more so. The need for survival has driven us to the surface – far away from the home which kept us safe for thousands of years. And when Shinzan is no more, you know as well as I do that return will be impossible. You claim to see the mountain, but your mind catches what is in the corner of your eye.”
Ganix pointed to a dwarf youth who was talking with an elf warrior. He was wearing a tan shirt and pants of light cloth made by the elves. He even carried an elf dagger…on a belt crafted by human hands.
Halvar closed the flap and turned his back. “What do I care of such things?”
Despite his sharp denial, in his heart he knew that Ganix was right. He had tried to ignore it. Nevertheless, every time he saw a dwarf wearing elf or human garb or carrying their weapons, it stung him. It stung him deeply.
Ganix reached across him to pull the flap open again. He pointed out an elf girl wearing a pair of dwarf made shoes. “Before you let it consume you completely, look there and take note. We are influencing them as well.”
As if to add weight to his argument, a human soldier carrying a dwarf axe passed by a few feet away from the girl. “And do you hear that?” Ganix continued. Between the ringing of hammers, an old dwarf drinking song could be heard. “Those are not dwarf voices, my friend.”
Halvar listened for a while to the familiar words being sung in human voices, unsure how it made him feel. Ganix’s hand on his shoulder brought him back into the moment. In silent agreement, the two monarchs stepped away from the opening and took seats at the table.
“The truth is, none of us will be the same,” said Ganix. “Unfortunately, we are by far the stubbornest of the three races, and so the most resistant to whatever changes are coming about.”
At last Halvar could feel a little of his despair lifting. “You are right about us being stubborn,” he chuckled. “And that is one thing I doubt will ever change.”
Just at that point, Lady Thora poked her head inside the tent. She looked directly at Ganix. “I thought I’d find you in here.”
Both kings rose to their feet. “Is everything all right?” Ganix asked.
“I should say not,” she replied, planting her hands firmly on her hips. “You run off to drink whiskey and leave me behind to mind the girls.” Taking a seat beside Ganix, she grabbed hold of the bottle. “Have you never heard of glasses?”
Halvar crossed over to the corner and found a clay cup. “Sadly, this is all I have to offer.”
Thora sniffed before pouring herself a drink. “I suppose it will have to do. Such a pity I had to leave my good crystal behind.”
“I’m going into Elyfoss later,” Halvar said. “I could retrieve it for you.”
She reached over and took hold of Ganix’s hand. “Thank you, but there is no need. I brought all that was sentimental out with me. And Ganix has promised that he has plenty of fine crystal at his home.”
Halvar paused to regard the two of them for a moment. “This is an interesting development,” he remarked, a smile inching its way up.
“And why is that?” asked Thora. “You think us too old?”
He held up his hands. “No. Not at all. I am happy for you. It’s just that I always assumed King Ganix would remain a bachelor for life.”
“As did I,” he admitted. “However, Lady Thora has shown me the folly of my ways.”
“A pity it took a war for him to realize how much his life was wanting,” she added. “But I suppose our fates unfold as they must. I will miss my home though.”
“You will not be returning to Elyfoss?” asked Halvar.
“No. However this conflict ends, I have spent my last night under the mountain. We have decided to go to Borgen after it’s all over. There, Ganix can keep himself happily busy fiddling with his trinkets.”
Halvar furled his brow. “So you intend to step down, my friend?”
Ganix shrugged. “Why should I remain? You are by far the better one to lead our people. And with so few of us left, would it not be better for dwarves to live together rather than in two separate kingdoms?”
“I…I have not thought of it in that way before. But you are wrong in one matter. I am not the better of us to lead. We will be in great need of your wisdom during the years to come.”
“You underestimate yourself,” Ganix told him. “More and more I am coming to realize that my time has gone. The new world will need a king who can understand new ways. I am too old to change who I am. Better that I retire to Borgen where I can still be of use.”
“And you agree with this, My Lady?” asked Halvar.
“Not entirely. He most certainly underestimates his own usefulness. But two kings is one too many. And this man at my side has earned his rest. So like it or not, you will be the one and only dwarf monarch, Halvar. From now on, Ganix’s time will be otherwise occupied.” She raised his hand and kissed it tenderly.
Ganix laughed loudly. “You see? I am not abdicating the throne. I am being ousted.”
The three burst into laughter, and continued talking in the same merry mood until the whiskey bottle was drained. Shortly after that, Keira arrived to tell Halvar that he could go into Elyfoss any time he wished.
“On second thought,” he said while offering her a chair and retrieving another bottle, “there is nothing there that cannot wait for my return. And where is King Yularian? I thought he would be with you.”
“He has returned to his tent to consult with his commanders,” she replied, clearly rather taken aback by the light-hearted mood she was seeing.
Halvar went to the entrance and ordered a guard outside to invite Yularian to join them at his earliest convenience.
“I thought you did not care for his company,” Keira remarked.
“In truth, I don’t. But if I am to lead us into a new age, it would be wise to get to know the people with whom I shall be sharing this world.”
He flashed a wicked grin. “In any case, seeing him drunk on dwarf whiskey might prove to be most amusing.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It had taken no small measure of effort to contain Lynial Dragonvein’s fury. Discovering what his father had done to him was enough on its own to have him simmering with barely contained anger. To have this compounded shortly afterward by being told of the current grim state of affairs in Lumnia was just too much for his confused mind to handle. His rage exploded into violent action, unleashing fire and lightning in all directions. Only Ethan’s quick reaction in casting a protection spell had saved the others from serious injury. Not that this was the end of the problems. When
Lynial tried to cast a traveling spell in order to rush off and confront Shinzan, Ethan was forced to contain him with a restraining cloak of magic. Such was the intensity of the youth's fury, he had very nearly proved strong enough to overcome even this.
Now though – at last - he had quietened down. Standing at the edge of a narrow woodland stream, the young man wept his heart out. And though he knew Lylinora well, she'd had no success whatsoever in consoling him. He was taking the situation far harder than she had done when first released from her own crystal prison.
As for Ethan, that day he had freed her felt like a hundred lifetimes ago. He'd been so different then. Totally naïve and innocent. Not even war with the Nazis had robbed him of that. But things had changed eventually. The Boy Scout Markus delighted in calling him had been gone for a very long time now. Even before he fought Shinzan he had understood the necessary dark side to this conflict. And though, unlike Martok, he would never embrace it as a matter of course, he had certainly learned to accept it as being an integral part of war…and life.
His thoughts wandered to Markus and the Urazi. His friend must have made contact with them by now. Were he to wager on it, he would say that Markus had likely survived the encounter. Whether or not he had actually joined them was another matter. Lylinora continued to be upset with him for agreeing with Martok’s decision to send her love on such a dangerous mission, but he remained resolutely sure it had been the right thing to do.
He watched Lynial weep for another few minutes before walking over to where Kat was still trying to console Val. Sorrow was surrounding him on all sides at present. And so it would remain until he had finished this business once and for all.
“I don’t want to go back to the Dragon Wastes,” Val told him the instant he arrived.
“So where else would you go?” he asked. “If you run off to save Jake, you’ll just get yourself killed.”
“Kat said you might find a way to save him.”
“She shouldn’t have,” he told her flatly. This drew a hard stare from Kat. “I’m sorry,” he continued. “You must accept that your brother is dead. Saving him is not an option.”
“You can’t know that,” snapped Val. “He might still be alive inside.”
“Even if he is, how do I kill Shinzan and spare Jake at the same time?”
“Just because you don’t know a way, that doesn’t mean there isn’t one,” Kat argued.
“And it doesn't mean there is, either.” He paused and gave a sigh. “Even if one does exist, we can’t afford to wait around long enough to work it out. I know this is a hard truth, but you have to face up to it. We all do.”
“He’s right,” a voice from a short distance away said.
Lynial had risen to his feet and was wiping his eyes. “I was there when Shinzan came to power,” he said. “I’ve seen what he is capable of. And if what you've told me is true, there is only one thing that can do your brother any good. You must set his soul free.”
He paused to look at Ethan. “Pardon my earlier behavior. I…I was unprepared.”
Relief that the boy was finally accepting the situation passed through Ethan. He smiled. “No need to apologize. At least this time I was able to protect myself. Lylinora very nearly roasted me alive straight after I released her.”
“I think I acted quite well under the circumstances.”
Lynial chuckled. “Admit it. You always were a bit hotheaded.”
“I was not,” Lylinora protested, albeit unconvincingly. “And Ethan. You should be a bit more understanding. Val has just lost her brother.”
“And I just burned my father’s body to cinders,” he came back quickly.
“A father you never knew,” Kat pointed out. “So don’t try to compare him with Jake.”
Her words stung. Ethan stiffened with undisguised anger for a moment, then turned to walk away. “If you don’t want to go to the Dragon Wastes, then you should go to Borgen with David,” he called back to Val. “You’ll be safe enough there.”
He threaded his way through the trees until the others were out of sight. His anger soon passed. He had been wrong to be so blunt with Val, and he knew it. It was the dire nature attached to the next stage of his journey weighing heavily on his mind that was making him so edgy. Kat was right. It didn’t bother him that he had destroyed his father’s body. He had never known him, so why should it?
The snap of a twig alerted him to her approach.
“You had better tell me what the hell is wrong with you,” she said.
“If you knew that we only had a short time together, would you still have wanted to be with me?” he asked.
Kat stopped short. “What are you saying?”
Ethan forced a smile. “Nothing. I’m just talking nonsense. I’ll apologize to Val before they go.”
“And where are we going?”
“I’m not sure yet. That’s what I’m about to find out.”
She cocked her head. “Find out from where? What are you going to do?”
He led Kat over to a soft patch of grass beneath a nearby oak, where they both sat down.
“I’m going to see if I can find my father,” he told her.
* * * * *
The barrier between the living world and the spiritual haven where his ancestors dwelt was no longer a mystery. Martok had learned its secrets long ago. And through the bond that Ethan shared with the elves, he was now able to cross between them at will.
He tried to imagine what it must have been like in the beginning when Heather first discovered this place. By the time Martok died, many generations of Dragonvein’s had already lived there for a very long time. They had tried to integrate him by showing him the wonders he could create with sheer thought. Had Ethan desired to do so, he could have easily transformed the misty veil into a lush field or a majestic castle. The only limit was his imagination. But like Martok, he knew it would be naught but an illusion; with no merit other than to distract the mind in order to stave off madness.
Those who resided here would not be able to see him. And he had no compulsion to see them. Perhaps it was Martok’s memories, but he loathed this place. Even were he not already certain that in death he would not be able to come here, he would choose oblivion over an eternity of lies.
He called out into the void. “Father.”
Just ahead, a lone figure materialized. Ethan recognized the face of Praxis at once. He was dressed in plain white robes, and his hair fell loosely about his shoulders. His expression was one of confusion and fear, but that quickly faded when he saw his son standing before him.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” said Ethan.
Praxis stepped forward, a bright smile on his lips. “My son. You are here. How did you find me?”
Ethan frowned. “Your memory hasn’t fully returned, has it?”
“My memory? What do you…” The fear returned. “How is it that you are here?”
Ethan held out his hands while stepping closer. “This may be a little bit unsettling,” he said. Gently, he placed his palms over Praxis’ forehead. The effect was almost instantaneous.
Praxis leapt back, eyes wide in horror. “Weslyn. You fool! You damn bloody fool!”
This was far from the reaction Ethan had expected. “Calm down, father. Please.”
Praxis threw up his hands. “What possessed you? Now he is free to do anything he wishes.” He let out a growl of rage and frustration. “Don’t you see? Don’t you understand?”
“No,” Ethan replied. “I don’t.”
After a few more seconds of flailing wildly and shouting curses, Praxis settled down enough to talk more lucidly. “I was the only thing keeping Shinzan at bay,” he explained. “Now that is gone.”
Ethan's jaw dropped in astonishment. “Are you saying that you've been aware of what was happening all this time?”
“Yes. But Shinzan was not aware of me. I was able to remain hidden deep within the recesses of his spirit…if that’s what you could call the twiste
d foul thing that resides inside him. I kept his evil from reaching its full measure.” His face suddenly crumpled into a grief stricken mask. “Illyrian. Sweet spirits. What he will do to her now, I cannot bear to think.”
“Can he be killed?” Ethan asked.
Praxis staggered back, not heeding the question. “Illyrian…Illyrian...”
Ethan placed his hands on his father’s shoulders. “I need you to be strong. Is there a way to beat him?”
He shot back a furious look. “Is that all you can say after sentencing your mother to the most gruesome death imaginable?”
“I’m sorry. But there is nothing I can do about that. If I had known…”
He paused. In truth, even had he known that Praxis’ spirit continued to live within Shinzan, he would still have done the same thing. There had been no way of knowing that the dwarf device would be so ineffective. And though his father was devastated by the prospect of his beloved wife’s fate, Ethan had never known her. And none of this changed the hard fact that he would be forced to face the Emperor again…this time alone.
“I need your help,” he said.
Praxis stepped away and turned his back. “I am incapable of helping you. Any hope of defeating Shinzan passed a long time ago. Lumnia is doomed, and there is nothing that you can do to stop it.”
“Surely he must have a weakness.”
“None that I could find in five hundred years of searching. You would have to destroy the source of his power. And he would kill you long before you got anywhere near it.”
Anger began to burn in Ethan's chest. “I refuse to believe this. He’s not God. There has to be a way. There must be.”
Praxis shook his head. “I am sorry, son. What I'm telling you is the truth. Alone, you have no possibility at all of defeating him. While he is near to his source, even the combined power of a thousand mages might not be enough. And unless I’m wrong, you have only a handful with you - most of them untrained.”
Dragonvein Book Four Page 33