Tales of Lemuria
Book One: The Demon’s Chamber
By
Brian Spielbauer
Copyright © 2017
Brian Spielbauer Facebook Fan Page
Introduction
Brian first read The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings in sixth grade, and in those moments of deep reading, he fell in love with fiction, the fantasy world, and story-telling for the first time.
“I really enjoy writing, and linking words and phrases together. Words can be very powerful, and move people to make changes in themselves, and have feelings,” Spielbauer said. “Often when we talk, we are not allowed to get our entire thoughts out to fully illustrate what we mean.”
Inspired by J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, Spielbauer began writing down his own ideas for a story approximately eight years ago.
“I loved the dwarves and wanted them to have larger parts in the [Lord of the Rings] books and movies,” Spielbauer said. “I thought this would make a good area to stretch.”
The plot of his stories has changed quite a bit over the last eight years, which he said has made writing the book “a journey in itself.”
Table of Contents
Introduction
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Map of Lemuria
Prologue
Chapter 1: The Furnace Room
Chapter 2: Murder in the Forest
Chapter 3: An Unexpected Meeting
Chapter 4: Erol
Chapter 5: Ogre in the Mountain
Chapter 6: Evil in the Woods
Chapter 7: The Jewel
Chapter 8: Together We Stand
Chapter 9: The King is Crowned
Chapter 10: The Young Sorcerer
Chapter 11: Treachery in the Mountain
Chapter 12: Who Do I Send?
Chapter 13: The Test
Chapter 14: Caught in the Web
Chapter 15: Into the Fire
Chapter 16: The Failed Plan
Chapter 17: The Runaway
Chapter 18: Of Myths and Legends
Chapter 19: The March
Chapter 20: Late Night Snack
Chapter 21: The Demon’s Chamber
Chapter 22: Once Lost, Now Found
Chapter 23: The Point of the Sword
Chapter 24: Thief in the Night
Chapter 25: The Phantom Voice
Chapter 26: The Time Has Come
Chapter 27: The Final Assault
Chapter 28: The Time is Now
Chapter 29: The Slip
Chapter 30: A Glimmer of Hope
About The Author
Copyright
ISBN – 13 (Trade Paperback): 978-1-387-20071-9
TALES OF LEMURIA: THE DEMON’S CHAMBER
Copyright © 2017 by Brian Spielbauer
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Presented by Concordis Publishing
Cover design by aLex Libris and Rodney V. Earle
Cartography by Deven Rue
FIRST ELECTRONIC EDITION
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN (Trade Paperback) 978-1-387-20071-9
Dedication
The Tales of Lemuria, handed down from age to age (one dream to the next), are scribed here within for your pleasure. If not for the boundless support from my dearest Lady Jennifer, the Tales of Lemuria: The Demon’s Chamber, would still be but a whisper in the dungeons of my imagination. To you, Lady Jennifer, this first foray into a world far scarier than the torturous prisons below the sinister Demon’s Chamber, is dedicated.
For my crown jewels of light,
my Princesses,
Sydney and Allie
Map of Lemuria
Prologue
“When will we break, sir?” Nelli asked Telon hesitatingly. The heat was oppressive. It was a thick, wet blanket, smothering the dwarves under its weight. It drained their strength, and they were the strongest of their race. Nelli tried to ignore the sweat streaming from his brow, but the salty estuaries stung his eyes from all directions. Telon’s ire was one to be avoided, but Nelli’s master was constantly on edge. Telon drew a heavy breath, closed his eyes, and began to deliver his reply. Nelli braced himself as best he could.
“Would you like to be able to heat your home this winter?" he asked loudly. "Should providing for your family fall to someone else?" Telon shared his thunderous anger with all the dwarves in his charge. "Your laziness is spreading throughout the mountain! Your duties call for a full day's work! You want a break? You must earn a break, and yet, you have not completed half of what I expect of you!"
Telon’s words cut sharply into his ragged crew. As worker dwarves, their work ethic was bred into them. They were taught from birth the rigors of hard work, and they prided themselves on not only their capabilities, but their accomplishments. They were the stability and the backbone of the mountain, and had been for countless generations. Their work, until now, had never been questioned.
The battered crew was producing coal at a record pace, and they all, including their taskmaster, Prince Telon, knew it. They had been driven hard as of late. The worker dwarves knew their limits, and they were fast approaching collapse under the unrelenting watch of the Prince. All they needed was a few moments of rest and drink, but Nelli was more than eager to accept any challenge Telon placed before him and the workers. Never would it be said that any task got the better of him.
“Men, our prince asks us for more, and we will push on! We will deliver!” As leader of the worker dwarves, Nelli gave the orders, and his crew, ever obedient, returned to their monotonous, yet imperative duties of crushing coal for their fires. They did not know how much longer they could last, but Nelli knew. He knew exactly what they were capable of, and he pushed them harder.
The hammers, heavy even by dwarven standards, had only just returned to their endless tasks when Tegan, Prince Telon's brother, arrived at the coal pits, followed by many women carrying baskets. "My brother, the lunch you ordered for the mountain's hardest working crew is here!" Tegan turned toward the crew, his stout arms open wide. "Men, let us eat and rest, for you have earned this reward!"
Without hesitation, the workers dropped their hammers, some of them mid-swing. They hurriedly filed their way toward the clearing where the women were setting up to serve them. Many of the workers empathically thanked Tegan as they passed him. Some said, "Thank you, lord, for your kindness and gratitude." Others said, "We shall not forget this, lord. Thank you."
Telon was dismayed by what was happening around him. He had not ordered lunch for his charge, and his anger strengthened from his older brother’s disposition. He approached Tegan, his powerful fists clenched, his heavy knuckles turning white. "What is the meaning of this?" he raged. "I ordered no lunch for these…" Telon trailed off, knowing his sentence was best left unfinished.
The workers focused their attention on their nourishment while Tegan mirrored Telon's rage. “Brother, I do not understand why you are driving your workers into the ground! What is the purpose of this endless pursuit? What is the meaning of this?"
&n
bsp; "This work must get done!" Telon replied angrily. "These... men, as they call themselves, have forgotten what hard work is! And we are not nearly where we need to be with winter approaching!"
“Done?" Tegan shouted. "Done?" he repeated, this time with such force that his throat burned. "What is... done? Of what do you speak, this word, done? This job knows no such word! Your men have worked these coal pits for several lifetimes. This work is never done!" Tegan took a breath to calm himself a bit and lowered his tone.
"What is this about, Telon? There is more to what you are doing than smashing endless piles of coal. These men are producing more than they ever have. Their ancestors would not think possible what they have accomplished here." As Tegan spoke, his demeanor changed from anger to worry. Standing before him was not the brother he had known his entire life.
Telon sensed his brother's concern. He, too, took a deep breath and looked at the men hungrily nourishing themselves around him. They were filthy. They were exhausted. Their backs had begun to slump from the endless days of brutal work, and from being pushed to the brink of collapse by the one they admired more than any other. Tegan was a dwarf, the same as any other, but he was their Prince. He was their lord. Telon knew Tegan was right, for no matter the task of the day he put on the workers, they could never get enough done to please him. He knew that this crew worked hardest among all other crews, and there were many in the mountain.
“Sleep… evades me, my brother,” said Telon. The vulnerable distress of his tone worried Tegan. “No matter what I try… no matter how exhausted I am…,” he continued, “my dreams wake me.” Telon’s admission revealed the ultimate reason for his merciless push on his men. The push was not on his men, it was on himself.
“Brother, you are not well,” Tegan began. “This now makes sense to me,” he said. “You are worn. Withered. You would not last long in battle, should the need arise.” Tegan took a breath and let his words sink in for a moment, and then continued. “Let us help you, Telon. Your men need rest, and so do you. I will see to the men. Return to your home. Mother, or even Milan can help you with sleep.”
“Tegan…,” Telon said, but trailed off when his brother closed his eyes, raised his palm, and interrupted him.”
“It is not a sign of weakness to ask for help, brother,” Tegan said. “Regardless, you will not ask for help anyway, but I know you need it.”
Telon knew Tegan was right, even though his last words stung him as a dagger stings the largest of beasts. He took a defeated last look at his men. There was no weapon against his brother’s wisdom. Not even the hammer in his powerful hand that seemed an extension of his very being. Telon was the strongest of the strong, but even he knew that there was no weapon which could be used, and no amount of strength could be gathered to defeat the truth. Telon’s hammer fell to the smooth, well-worn path. He moved slowly past his hungry, exhausted men without uttering a word. He felt shame. He knew what he had put his men through.
Nelli, although he could not hear their words, could guess at the discussion going on between the two brothers. Tegan had queried him only the night before about the brutal tempo Telon was setting for his men to follow. Nelli saw that Telon was about to leave the great cavern. He bolted forth and caught his master. “Sir, I pray you, worry not!” he said. “We will keep at our work, and make you proud!”
Telon stopped in his tracks, turned toward foreman, who stood at attention with his hand extended, as was their custom to denote a form of salute, and of loyalty. He took Nelli’s powerful hand in his and looked him square in the eyes, this time not as an overseer, but as an equal. “I am… and always have been, proud, Nelli,” he said. “I am proud to be your leader, and any words of mine that led you to believe anything less… were a mistake.” Telon then drew a choppy breath and said, “I am sorry for pushing you all as hard as I have.” He released Nelli’s hand and said, “I must rest now. My guess is that with Tegan in charge, you will have a short day as well. Tell the men to enjoy their nourishment, rest, and enjoy some time with their families.”
For the first time in his life, Nelli truly saw his master’s eyes up close. He was beside himself. He knew not what to say, remaining at attention, his hand still extended in utmost respect and admiration.
Telon turned to leave, but stopped short, looked over his shoulder at Nelli, and said, “But you better rest well,” he said. “I will return tomorrow, and there is still much to be done.”
Nelli half-smiled at Telon as he left, knowing there was a good chance his leader would try to make up for the day’s lost time when he returned tomorrow.
Δ
Telon could not remember the last time he had slept for more than a few hours, much less straight through the night. In his waking hours, the inevitability of the nightly soul-tearing dreams stalked him. While he slept, which was sparsely at best, the dreams haunted him themselves. His lack of sleep wore him to his core. More than a few hapless dwarves unintentionally drew the wrath of the tormented prince. The workers tried at all costs never to repeat the same mistake twice.
Telon worked feverishly during the day, driven as much by the work before him as by the need to keep his mind occupied. While his men took their rest periods, he continued his feverish pace. He would not rest, no matter how tired he was. The workers, whispering only between themselves so as not to appear disloyal, speculated that Telon was obsessed with the pursuit of perfection. He would near completion of a project, find the smallest of imperfections, and then begin the project again from scratch.
The mountain was full of perfectionists. They had to be. This was their life, and their charge. But of all of them, Telon was by far the most driven, and the most particular and critical of any completed project. It was not, however, the pursuit of flawlessness that drove him to these extremes. The projects that were nearing completion and then started over again were merely distractions from what lurked in the night. His motivations for starting over merely bought him time. More time.
For him, the most unbearable part of each waking day was the last hour or so. He tried to wind down. He tried more distraction in other pursuits, but as the clock wound down, he could not. The anxiety remained. As a drop of rain becomes a torrential downpour, the smallest of contemplations would grow to a deafening thunderstorm in his head. This night, as with most nights, no matter his intentions, the results would remain the same.
Chapter 1: The Furnace Room
Dwigor was his name. He was a meager slave. A dwarf slave. Other than the sting of newly-torn flesh from his gargoyle taskmaster’s whip, he knew little else. The gargoyles owned him. They owned his family. All a simple dwarf slave could hope for was winning favor enough to ensure the survival of his wife and offspring. Dwigor lacked anything of value, and as such, he and his family meant nothing to the gargoyles. They were a brutal race, but a mighty race at that.
That is, until they made a mistake. A mistake that would cost them, and cost them dearly. The gargoyles murdered Dwigor’s wife. No dwarf knew exactly what happened, but rumors spread among them like wildfire. One rumor held that Dwigor’s wife had fallen while carrying water. A minor gargoyle saw this, and crushed her face into the ground with his foot, smothering her in the very mud that was created from the spill. Whether the rumor was true or not, Dwigor cared not. It was enough. His destiny was thrust before him.
For this, the mighty gargoyle nation must fall, and he alone led the great rebellion against them. There were many battles in the years following. They were ghastly, and many were slaughtered mercilessly on both sides. The rebellion ended when Dwigor himself severed the head of Kia-tula the Terrible, Lord of the Gargoyles. But rebellion alone was not enough for Dwigor. He would see the gargoyles suffer. He would see them all dead. In the days and weeks following, he and the rest of the freed dwarves scoured the land, searching out the remaining few of the once-mighty gargoyles. They were eradicated most viciously, and their eggs smashed. None were spared. The gargoyles would never rise again.
> Dwigor led his people south across the continent of Lemuria, settling in the southernmost region. They made it their home, eventually breaking into five tribes. They came to know peace. They came to know war. They lived their lives, and their dead were buried. Father to son, the crown of Dwigor was passed down, generation to generation. The line of Dwigor would live on and never fail.
Moro, a direct descendant of Dwigor and present King of the Dwarf Lands, ruled from the main Seat of Tunder Bin. Though there were five dwarf regions, each with its own King, the final word on issues fell to the King of Tunder Bin.
Moro had two sons, Tegan and Telon. Though they were of different mothers and were born a year apart, they had similar features. They both did Moro’s bidding by way of securing his lands and working diligently for their people. They were most revered by the subjects of Tunder Bin, and their reputation spread throughout all Lemuria.
Tegan, the elder of the two, was born of Sera, Moro’s first wife. Sera died shortly after Tegan’s birth, and he was her only offspring. Telon was born of Deyanira, second and current wife of Moro. Though Deyanira had not been crowned Queen, she raised both Tegan and Telon as her own. She provided as much, if not more, for her sons than any mother in all of Lemuria. She watched them grow into powerful warriors, and well-respected men.
Though both were raised as equals in every way, Tegan had become the crown jewel of his people, and a mighty warrior. His courage and bravery were endless, his skills with weaponry were legendary, and he was unrivaled throughout the land. Tegan wanted for nothing, and he had the hand of his one and only true love, Milan. While Tegan’s soul belonged to his people, his heart belonged to Milan.
Milan was the Princess of the Ring Mountains, daughter of King Dorir, and future Queen of Tunder Bin. She was known and adored throughout Lemuria’s five kingdoms as the most beautiful of all Princesses. When news of Tegan and Milan’s expected firstborn spread throughout the land, all of Lemuria rejoiced in anticipation. There was much speculation and friendly wagering on whether the first born would be a son or daughter, and as the time drew near, the odds one way or the other swayed very little. The men wanted a strong, masculine heir to carry on Moro’s legacy. The women hoped for a girl as beautiful as Milan herself.
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