Amulet of Souls (The Sentinels of Wizgrad Book 1) (10 page)

Dakho had recently arrived at the old Dwarven Caves. He was quickly ushered into a council with The King along with the Chieftain of the Gnomes.

“I fail to see how this is our problem master Dakho,” The Dwarf King said. The King was sat high upon his throne and for the Dwarves, the word of The King was the law.

“This predicament will affect the entire continent if they do not succeed. Even if we hide in these mountains, they will come for us.” the Gnome Chieftain said. The Chieftain was sat beside The King, but lower down.

The Gnome Chieftain was more of an Adviser than anything and he used his superior knowledge to give clarity to difficult situations.

“I cannot afford to send my warriors away to die, leaving these mountains, our homes, children and women, vulnerable to attack.” The Dwarf King said.

“With all due respect King Harthor, but if we fail, not even
these
mountain walls will protect you. You have a duty to help the Legion at a...” pleaded Dakho.

“I have a DUTY to protect my people!” The King loudly interrupted.

A long, loud howl then shuddered through the caverns, which touched the ears of every person in the mountain.

“What the hell was that?” King Harthor blurted.

“That is the sound of hope King Harthor. The daughter of Biren has returned, and her remnant Zelkith is calling all great wolves back together to end their civil war and fight for the Legion to protect these lands” Dakho said. He needed to convince The King however he could.

“My King, ever since we installed the Dimensional Scope Defensor, your troops have been doing nothing but drinking and playing games,” the Gnome Chieftain said.

“I will not have you bad mouth, my troops!” The King shouted.

“I am saying that it’s an extremely unlikely event that any intruders will get past the Dimensional Scope Defensor, your men could use some action again, give their lives purpose once more” the Chieftain argued.

“Their purpose is to be here to protect the civilians, my decision is final. I will not give you any aid,” The King said. He got up from his throne and stormed out of the room.

Dakho just stood for a while, he knew that once a Dwarven King had made up his mind, there was no going back. It would seem there would be no help from the Dwarves.

The Gnome Chieftain got off his chair and walked up to Dakho with an empty expression on his face, he beckoned Dakho “Follow me,” he said. Dakho followed the Gnome Chieftain into the markets and houses of the town deep inside the mountain where Dakho was raised.

“Tell me master Dakho, what do you see?” the Chieftain asked.

“The pinnacle of dwarven workmanship. Elegantly designed stone cuttings and caverns?” Dakho replied.

The Chieftain pointed to a strange object in the distance. “And how about this?”

“An old Dwarven relic?” Dakho replied. He questioned what the Chieftain was trying to say. The Chieftain now pointed at the carving of a Dwarf of stone on the walls. “And that?” the Chieftain asked.

“Our deceased King Mruhr” Dakho replied with confidence.

“Put all of these things together Master Dakho, what connection do you see?” the Chieftain asked.

“They are all made from stone” Dakho replied.

“Highly amusing Master Dakho. I ask you again, but this time, look past the rock, look past the walkways and the houses. Look past the carvings and kings. What do you see?”

Dakho stood silent. He had no idea what the Chieftain had tried to explain.

“Dwarves Master Dakho, Dwarves. We have lived under the shadows of other races for too long, and we are tired of sitting back and helping everyone but ourselves. I have a proposal for you Master Dakho” the Chieftain said.

“I am all ears,” Dakho said.

“The Spellrigger Gnomes will assist you in your war efforts. We shall not sit by idly while the enemy killed so many of our kin just for a building. However, we will only do so if the Legion agrees to help create our own home after the war is over.”

“Then it is agreed. Those who remain in the Legion promise to give you what aid we can in return for your assistance in the war” Dakho said. Dakho and the Chieftain shook hands on the agreement.

Mireylon was in a similar situation to Dakho. The Elves took their decisions slower and with more care than the Dwarf King. He was told to wait while the elders of the town decided what they should do.

Liamar and Koruko were another two days away from Talimara City. They had not been there since they were children. They left when the Legion was recruiting nearby, but it was still dear to their hearts.

It was the only hot part of the continent and it was just how they liked it. Kijiar were very fond of gold and riches but were in no way greedy. However, their love of gold also made them targets throughout history. Over the years, this made the Kijiar extremely powerful fighters and tacticians. They were not strong at magic, but more than made up for it in physical strength and agility.

“I wonder how Qazli and Wento are, it’s been such a long time since we have seen them,” Liamar said.

Koruko grinned “I imagine they have barely changed, always getting into mischief they were.”

They arrived at Talimara City two days later. Talimara was a wide open, golden coloured stone town. In the centre was a stone waterfall of one of their gods holding a fish. All around there were many houses, all the same shape with a simple cloth that covered the entrance instead of doors and they were spread as far as the eyes could see.

Koruko stood still “It seems awfully quiet.”

They had not seen a single Kijiar since they arrived.

“Maybe they are praying in the temple,” Liamar said. They walked up to the waterfall statue and drank some of the water before they made their way to the temple. The temple was the largest building in the city and towered above the houses around it. The pillars that held up the massive structure had different gods and goddess’s carved inside and were all plated with gold.

They walked up the stairs to the closed doors. Koruko pressed his ear against the door and it was silent.

“Something’s not right!” Koruko said alarmed. Liamar must have sensed it too. They attempted to open the doors, but they were somehow sealed shut. The doors were made of huge pieces of thick wood and were gold plated. They tried their best to open the doors, but it would not budge an inch.

“Search the houses, find something we can use to lever the door open” Liamar ordered. They both ran into the nearby houses and tried to find whatever they could to help them. Dust covered everything they could see like it had been abandoned for many years.

Koruko ran into the blacksmiths where there were several hammers and large steel weapons. He yelled for Liamar and they took a huge two-handed hammer. They carried it over to the massive doors and slid it into the door handle. They dug their claws into the floor and yanked the hammer as hard as they could. But still it would not budge an inch.

“Stand back Liamar,” Koruko said. He pulled the hammer out from the hoop, grabbed the handle and swung the massive hammer at the door.

“Koruko what are you doing?!” Liamar shouted.

“It can be repaired” he shouted and he slugged the huge hammer at the door again. With a massive thud the door looked like it had started to loosen.

With another swing, the wooden bar from the inside started to crack. A few more hits and the door became loose enough to show a tiny gap. Koruko stuck the handle of the hammer in and wedged it open. With a crack the door flew open, followed by a swarm of thousands of flies.

The flies crash into Liamar and Koruko like a tsunami and it dragged them down the stairs. The flies dissipated in a thick fog as they swarmed into the sky above. Liamar and Koruko got themselves up, ran upstairs and peered inside the temple. It was a sight that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

The entire town, the children, The King and Queen, their friends, everyone was dead. Nothing but the smell of rotten flesh and bones was left. The bones were thick across the floor and the bodies must have covered every inch of the floor.

Liamar burst into tears “I..I can't do it.” The agonising pain of loss overcame her and she fell to the floor, unable to breathe.

Koruko stayed to comfort her until she was able to breathe properly again. Koruko was overwhelmed with anger rather than pain and sorrow. He went back inside and pushed through the bones, which acted like a thick swamp. He walked through the temple to search for answers. In one of the corner praying rooms, a skeleton had a tome clutched in his arms. Koruko peeled back the brittle bones to acquire the book. He took the book outside and sat down on the steps next to Liamar and opened up the book, which read:

I don't have much time, and I need to tell any who may find this what happened.

We were attacked just as we started the annual village prayer.

Hundreds of Yin, Greelong and Ogres, attacked us, we tried our best to defend the elders and the young, but it was no hope. Their magic was too powerful, and they blocked the exit cleverly.

An enormous Ogre with black armour appeared, through the ranks as the fighting had slowed, he ranted something about a new world of peace, and the Kijiar were not in it. He fought the King and lost, dead upon the floor, but somehow revived himself, and stabbed the King in the back.

I hope that whoever reads this, it is not too late, but he must be stopped, his dagger was the key to…

Koruko read the text out loud. Morgoth and his army had already been here way before the Legion stronghold was attacked. How long had this been planned? They must have known the Kijiar would have been a foe they could not defeat in hand to hand combat so they used cheap magic tricks and caught them off guard.

They prayed for the dead that lie in their sacred temple and paid their respects. Koruko went back inside the temple and took the King and Queens’s armour and weapons. They put on the thick golden armour, golden sword and shield. The Kijiar women were equal among men and fought alongside them in battle. The encounter in the temple would have been fought long and hard, but ultimately the enemy had the upper hand.

They spent the next day at the temple to arrange the dead inside carefully. They placed what weapons they found beside them as a trophy for the afterlife. It was tradition to not bury their dead. After they had prayed once more, they began to head back to Stoweforth where Mireylon and the others were to meet.

“Welcome back Plode, what brings you here?” said one of the foxes at the entrance to Haven.

“I am here to speak to Mr Pannett, it is urgent,” Plode said.

“Very well” the fox replied. He led Plode down the tunnel toward the roots that kept intruders out.

The fox placed his paw on the roots and they moved out of the way. Plode stepped inside and sensed something was not right.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Plode yelled. Two heavily armed Greelong soldiers had grabbed Plode’s arms and pulled them behind his back.

“I'm sorry...” the fox said and the roots closed up. The Greelong kicked Plode’s legs, which caused him to kneel and face the floor. Plode tried his best to get free, but he could not move his arms. A human approached him, but he could only make out his feet and legs. The man stopped in front of Plode and leant down into his ear.

“Iris's cell holds the key,” the man whispered.

Plode felt something on the back of his neck and suddenly he was unable to move.

The two Greelong guards dragged him down the walkways and barged through the doors of the large acorn house at the bottom of Haven. The guards sat Plode on his knees so he could see ahead of him. Mr Pannett’s acorn house was completely trashed, all his relics and possessions smashed and broken. Stood at the end of the hall was Dartis, the Legion King.

“Plode, How nice of you to join us. Such a shame that your brother is not here, but he will be back soon. See to it that he is made comfortable” Dartis ordered.

The two guards dragged Plode from the room and

through the old dark Elven ruins, down dark alleyways and eventually to what was an ancient cell block. Plode was thrown into the cell with a thud and the cell door was locked. There was silence for a short while until the two Greelong guards had left.

“Plode? Is that you?!” came a female voice. Plode thought he recognised it, but he could not turn to see who it was.

“Plode, answer me?!” came the female voice again.

“He cannot speak, it’s a paralysing spell” came another familiar voice. It was Mr Pannett who had also been placed in the cells.

“Thorley, reach over and stop it” the female voice ordered.

Thorley, who was in the cell next to Plode, stretched over and put his arms through the bars. He reached as far as he could, but he was not close enough to be able to touch Plode’s head. Thorley took hold of Plode’s arm and began to pull. “Holy mother of god, he weighs a tonne!”

After several minutes, Thorley eventually got Plode close enough and touched his head to release the spell. Plode groaned and rubbed the back of his neck with his hands, able to move again at last. He sat himself up to see Mr Pannett in the cell across from him. Iris was to his left and a strange bearded man who was Thorley to his right.