“We could come back another time if you prefer.” Farrell didn’t want to come back, but the holy father deserved the choice.
Aswick let out a deep, rumbling laugh that echoed around the almost-empty temple. “While I do not doubt the sincerity of your offer, I can read your face well enough to know you hope I decline.”
Smiling through his embarrassment, Farrell nodded his agreement. “That obvious?”
“If I may suggest, avoid being drawn into a card game where your purse is at stake.”
“You might want to reconsider that statement, Holy Father.” Miceral placed a hand on Farrell’s back, stroking it gently. “Being Chosen by Khron isn’t sitting particularly well with Farrell.”
Aswick’s eyes widened, and his head jerked back slightly. “Not want to be Chosen?”
“Don’t sound so shocked, Father.” Farrell caught the annoyance in his voice and took a deep breath. “Every time one of the Six makes me their Chosen, I acquire new tasks I don’t want.”
“Service to our gods is a blessing, not a burden.”
“Spoken like a high priest,” Farrell said to Miceral.
Miceral didn’t react outwardly. “Let it go. You can’t win that debate.”
“As you say, Holy Father.” Heeding his partner’s advice, Farrell tried to sound sincere. “Whatever assistance you can provide would be appreciated.”
“Come.” Aswick turned his body sideways. “Join me in my private quarters.”
Despite his shorter legs, Father Aswick quickly led them through a darkened hallway and into a well-furnished sitting room.
“Please be seated and comfortable while I fetch us some ale.” Aswick motioned toward a set of large chairs and kept walking.
“Water will be fine for me,” Farrell said, taking the seat closest to the door.
“Are you certain?” Aswick turned back toward his guests. “This is one of Fracturn’s finest brews in decades. I had to invoke the temple’s authority to purchase the few barrels I did.”
“Ale, especially dwarven ale, and wizards are a dangerous combination.”
Aswick’s long gray beard bobbed around as he nodded. “What of you, Lord Miceral? Any prohibitions against you joining me for a tankard?”
Grinning broadly, Miceral shook his head. “None, Holy Father.”
“Excellent. I’ve had to drink alone for too long.” Aswick left and returned a minute later with a long silver tray bearing three large metal cups, platinum if Farrell saw correctly, and a ceramic ewer. He handed the cup with water to Farrell, then filled the other two from the pitcher.
“To your arrival, Chosen, and to the end of Trellham’s days of exile.”
Raising an eyebrow to Miceral, Farrell followed good manners and drank. Hopefully Aswick’s explanation would enlighten him as to what the priest meant by the toast.
After quaffing half the tankard, Aswick wiped his face and beard with the back of his hand. “To help you fulfill Khron’s task, I need to tell you what happened to this beautiful and once-vibrant city.” Aswick set his mug on a small table next to his chair and reclined into the cushions. “It is a long, sad story, but I’ll try to keep to just the pertinent facts.”
Farrell noticed he’d inched forward and sat back, trying his best to relax.
“Trellham is an ancient city, the oldest in the world. It was the first of the great dwarf kingdoms, founded long before men built the small towns that gave rise to their great cities. These mountains were once called Trellham’s Mountains, not the Trellham Mountains. When men arrived, they mistook which named the other. From the bones of these mountains, a thriving, prosperous city emerged.
“With prosperity, however, came division. Neldin’s priests, always an afterthought among our people, used the accumulation of great wealth by some to recruit among those who had less. They offered Neldin’s help in finding new veins of ore and new ways to power forges to help His followers prosper. To those too lazy to work, the temple spread a message that it was heresy for so much wealth to end up in the hands of so few.
“Neldin’s message took root in many, fanning the jealousy that lives in the hearts of dwarves. As their numbers grew, Neldin’s followers became bolder, more arrogant. They spoke of a new hierarchy in Trellham, one in which Neldin would be ascendant. Finally, words gave way to action. Neldin’s priests demanded the temple of Seritia swear fealty to Neldin and acknowledge him as their new lord. The high priestess refused.
“No one expected Neldin’s next move. His followers attacked Seritia’s temple, razing it before a proper defense could be mustered. Before the other five temples could respond, they found themselves under attack as well. Open warfare followed.”
Farrell took a sip and watched the elderly dwarf. Aswick recited the tale like one who had lived through the attack, which he knew to be impossible. No dwarf lived to be three thousand years old.
“Led by Khron’s priests, the Six responded with crushing force and drove Neldin’s people back to their temple. The priests barred the gates and prayed to their lord for help. Despite the pleas for aid, none was sent.”
Aswick paused to take a drink from his cup. Farrell twisted in his seat, holding in his questions.
“Even without Neldin’s help, the temple did not easily fall. For months His priests had planned and prepared for this day. Soon the ledge brimmed with warriors and equipment surrounding the God of the Underworld’s home.
“But Neldin did not set dwarf against dwarf expecting His side to win. This fight was meant to distract the Six. His true goal was to supplant Honorus as the first. When the fighting reached its peak, Neldin launched His attack on His brother.
“Honorus, however, expected treachery and was waiting for His brother. Though men and dwarves turn to Khron in times of war, the Sky Father is without equal. Neldin’s betrayal fueled Honorus’s rage, which in turn added to His formidable power. The fight was brief, and Neldin quickly slunk back to Neblor to lick his wounds.
“The war would have ended then, except Khron committed the ultimate sin. The gods are not permitted to use their powers against each other in our world. When Neldin attacked Their brother, Khron let His anger control His actions. It was He who destroyed Neldin’s temple.
“Neldin’s cry of despair turned into a scream of triumph. Khron’s interference allowed Neldin the chance to strike without fear of reprisals. Unlike His brother, Neldin spent centuries planning His next move. The Eight Gates opened wide, and the hordes of Neblor burst forth from the shattered ruins of Neldin’s temple. The armies of Trellham, valiant as they were, found themselves overmatched. Neldin’s foul creatures spewed forth, pushing aside the armies that barred their way.”
“Why?” Miceral asked before Aswick could continue.
“Why what, child?” The high priest sounded almost put-off by the question.
“Why can’t the gods act in our world?”
The elderly dwarf raised a bushy eyebrow as if to ask, “Does not
Lenore’s temple teach basic theology to Her followers?” He stared at Miceral for another few seconds, then let it go. “The answer comes down to power. If the gods made war in our world, they would destroy the very thing they sought to control. When the world was new, all Seven agreed never to use Their powers against each other or each other’s followers. To do so would allow the aggrieved to take a like action. All Seven agreed to this.”
“Who . . .? That . . . Why would any of them agree to that?” Miceral turned toward Farrell. “It sounds like the Six could easily overcome Neldin if they attacked Him together.”
“Like Father Aswick said, it’s about power.” Farrell glanced over at their host. When the dwarf nodded, he continued. “It took all Seven, acting in unison, to create the world. Assuming the Six could defeat Neldin in a meaningful way—”
“Meaningful way?” Miceral cut in. “What does that mean?”
“It is unclear if a god can die.” Farrell looked to the high priest for confirmation.
&
nbsp; “What Farrell says is correct. Nothing in our teachings suggests the Six could slay Neldin. But it wouldn’t matter. Whether They killed Neldin, or merely defeated Him in such a way that He could not interfere again, the effort would destroy the world. Without Neldin, the Six would not be able to create a new world to replace the one They destroyed.”
“So They suffer each others’ existence to preserve the world each side wants to control?” Miceral voiced what Farrell initially felt.
“Not quite.” Farrell checked with the priest for permission to continue. When Aswick nodded, he chose his words carefully. “Basically, Neldin doesn’t want to destroy the world because He wants to rule it and can’t create a new world alone. The Six don’t want everyone to die, so They labor within the fragile peace They’ve reached with Their brother. Even if They could create a new world—and to be honest, I’ve not seen any proof They can’t with just the six of Them—They wouldn’t because the cost would be so high.”
“Well said.” Aswick stared into his cup. “Khron’s mistake threatened not just Trellham, but all the world. If He couldn’t rule Nendor in His Brother’s place, Neldin sought to turn the world into an extension of Neblor.
“To deal with Neldin’s threat, the Six sent out a call to arms. Warriors and wizards from all nations were told to gather at the closest temple. The Six met Neldin’s threat with armies of Their own.
“The battle lasted for days. Every time Trellham seemed safe, more of Neldin’s demons appeared. After several long days of fighting, Falcron gave voice to the words His siblings refused to speak. Since Khron had broken the prohibition by taking something from Neldin, ending the fight required Khron give back something of equal value.”
“Something of equal value?” Miceral asked. “You mean like Khron’s temple?”
“No, that would be too easy.” Aswick shook his head slowly. “It wasn’t the destruction of His temple that gave Neldin power to act; it was the death of His followers. Khron needed to sacrifice those who worshipped Him.”
Farrell’s stomach twisted, forcing him to swallow loudly. “I can’t believe the Six would willingly sacrifice innocent people—sorry, innocent dwarves.”
“Your words echo Khron’s protest. But He understood that His actions had killed many of Neldin’s followers, who, in Neldin’s eyes, were equally innocent.”
“Innocent?” Farrell spat out the word. “Demanding Seritia’s high priestess swear fealty to Neldin, razing Her temple when the priestess refused, launching a civil war? How are these the actions of innocent followers?”
“You think like one devoted to his god.” Aswick’s smile lasted only a moment. “To Neldin, His priests did as He told them. We judge their actions to be wrong, but in His eyes, they were right. They did as their god commanded.”
Farrell wanted to argue with Aswick’s reasoning but decided to keep silent. Logical or not, the events they discussed occurred more than three millennia ago.
The elderly dwarf leaned back in his chair, as if telling the tale took all his energy. “While the fighting continued, the Six sought a way to close Neldin’s entry to the world. None wanted to kill more of Trellham’s dwarves, but for a time it seemed their only option. More than just Trellham was at stake if Neldin won.
“Finally Seritia offered a possible solution. What if the people were simply gone? That should be enough to end the crisis.”
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Farrell shook his head and waved his hands in front of him. “No, sending Khron’s followers to another place wouldn’t have closed the Eight Gates of Neblor. That couldn’t have been the solution.”
This time Aswick’s smile remained. “Good. You understand the dilemma the Six faced. You are correct. Moving dwarves to the opposite side of the planet would not solve the problem Khron’s involvement had created. His followers needed to leave Nendor.”
Farrell cocked his head to the right and repeated the last two words, “Leave Nendor?”
“Yes, leave Nendor. Seritia suggested opening a Door to nowhere. Anyone who entered the void would be dead—at least, until they were allowed to exit again.”
“Stop.” Miceral put his drink down with a clank. “How can you open a Door to nowhere? That makes no sense.”
Farrell stood up and began to pace. “Actually, it makes total sense, except it’s a suicide trip. There’s no way to locate anyone who entered a Door into the void. They’d be lost forever.”
Aswick refilled his mug. “Correct again, young wizard. Except it was not a death sentence. The Six agreed this was the only choice left to Them. They assembled the remaining wizards to see if any could create what Seritia envisioned. Many tried, but none succeeded.”
Resting his hands on the back of his chair, Farrell held up a finger. “Why not? Opening a Door to nowhere is simple—just imagine an empty place in the void and extend your will. How could that be beyond the skills of every grand master wizard there?”
“It was not the opening of the Door that proved beyond their talents. It was what Seritia wanted them to do once the Door was open.”
Farrell locked gazes with the high priest but didn’t speak. Running through the facts he’d been given, he grappled with what the goddess had meant to achieve. Closing his eyes, he tried to recreate the scene and the spell. After walking himself through opening a portal into the void, he snapped his eyes open.
“She created a home for them in the void.” The idea was crazy, preposterous, and impossible—but if successful, totally brilliant.
“You mean everyone has been standing inside—wherever they are—for three thousand years?” Miceral’s voice woke Farrell from his thoughts. Aswick still stared at him and raised an eyebrow.
“Time has no meaning inside the void.” Farrell shrugged and smiled at his partner. “Or, at least, so the theory goes. To my knowledge, no one who tried to test that theory has survived to validate the belief.”
“Khron told the dwarves who entered that they would feel as if a mere moment had passed when they were freed,” Aswick said. “Once all the ‘best’ wizards of the age had tried and failed, a young wizard from among Honorus’s followers stepped forward. Though newly raised to master status, his talent spoke of greater things to come. With the eyes of what must have felt like the entire world on him, the young wizard slowly wove the complex spell Seritia had taught him. When he finished, the Six smiled. He had succeeded.”
“Did history record the name of this young wizard?” Farrell knew the answer but wanted Aswick to confirm his belief.
“You know who it was. It was your distant ancestor, Kel.”
Farrell’s chest muscles seized. How could the priest know that?
“What makes you think I’m related to Kel?”
A deep rumble of laughter rang out. “Only one of the House of Kel could have found this place. And Khron would only give the task to Kel’s heir.”
Did Aswick know about his relationship to Meglar? And if not, how would that affect things? For a moment he thought he saw movement behind the priest. Shifting his focus, he saw a nine-foot statue of Khron. Whatever Aswick might think, he would do what Khron instructed, even if it meant helping Meglar’s son. Turning back, he nodded. “I am that.”
“Indeed you are.” Aswick drained the rest of his ale and walked the mug to the sideboard. “After Kel completed the spell, Trellham’s survivors walked through. When the last one disappeared into the void, the gates of Neblor slammed shut. Without reinforcements, Neldin’s army fell, ending the war. Honorus instructed Kel to seal the city to all but his heir, ensuring Trellham remained undisturbed all these centuries.”
“I have a question,” Miceral said. “If all of Trellham went into the void, how is it you survived?”
Aswick chuckled, stroking his long gray beard. “I did not. All of Trellham left the city that day. After the armies left and the city was sealed, Khron selected a young dwarf priest from the other dwarf realms to serve as high priest against the day His people ret
urned. I am the seventeenth priest to hold this position.
“There is a permanent Door between this temple and the ones in Fracturn and Colograd. We are permitted to visit—it keeps us sane—but we must sleep here every night. I am thankful Khron has allowed me to live long enough to see my brethren freed.”
Farrell barely heard the exchange between the two. How could he be expected to do the impossible? The spell Kel used, he understood, even if he didn’t know exactly how to do it. But finding the survivors? He realized the room had gone quiet, and he raised his eyes from the cold stone floor. “Locating your dwarves in the void is like trying to find a specific drop of water in the ocean. Unless you can give me some guidance, I have no idea how to free them.”
To his surprise, Aswick seemed impassive. “I expected as much, but I fear I cannot help. I do, however, have something to give you that may be of use.” He moved to a small cabinet next to the sideboard and opened the dark mahogany door. Pressing his signet ring against the back wall opened a small, hidden stone door. The dwarf reached in and withdrew a deep-blue velvet-wrapped item. “Twenty-five centuries ago, Kel created this vault. Until today it has never been opened. I do not know the contents of this, though it feels like a book. On the day Kel appeared, he gave over this item and instructed my predecessor to give this to his heir when you finally arrived.”
He stared at the cloth for a moment, then extended his arms toward Farrell.
Gingerly, Farrell accepted the gift. The book, for that was what it was, left him in awe. This came from Kel. The Kel. The greatest wizard of his age–or any age. When he looked up from the book, Aswick nodded once.
“I hope, descendant of Kel, that contained within that ancient tome you will find what you seek.”
Chapter Four
THE DOOR blinked shut, leaving Farrell and Miceral standing in front of their bed. Farrell stared at the ancient book.
Miceral snaked his hands around Farrell’s waist from behind, gently pulling them together. “I’m told it helps to open a book and turn the pages.”
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