Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy (75 page)

“You could support them,” suggested Howell. “With the support of the army, the king might listen to reason.”

Manhar laughed. “Me? Support those fools? All they’re interested in is their personal gain. If I were to support any one of them, how long do you think I would keep my position? I’m safer with the one who sits on the throne today.”

“True enough,” said Howell. “What we need is a true leader.” He lowered his voice. “Have you considered—you know—taking over for yourself?”

Manhar snorted. “I’d have to have a good reason, or even my own men would turn against me. The king would have to be completely discredited to be successfully overthrown by a military leader. That’s not too easy to do.”

“I see what you mean,” said Howell.

“It’s time to go see the king,” said Manhar, pushing his chair back and rising.

Harran ran back around the corner and waited for the general and his commander to exit their room. The two dwarves started down the hall and Harran waited a few moments before following.

He followed a good distance back and kept pace with them step for step so as not to be overheard. They climbed three sets of stairs and turned left to approach the guarded throne room. Manhar and Howell nodded at the guards and were immediately granted admittance into the throne room.

Harran appeared a moment later and nodded at the guards.

“Entry by commoners is forbidden,” said one guard.

“I am here regarding my honour status,” said Harran. “It is my right to see the king when I have acquired one or more of the three things necessary to restore my honour. It is written so in the ancient texts, and is the law by which we all abide.”

The guards looked at each other uncertainly for a moment and finally one of them pulled twice on a nearby bell rope.

An announcer appeared shortly and Harran repeated his request. The announcer nodded silently and led Harran into the throne room.

Once inside, Harran couldn’t believe his eyes. In the center of the throne room, where some seats used to be, was a large pile of ordinary rocks. Nobles sat in their elevated seats and stared at the rocks in fascination. A few lower level seats were also occupied.

Manhar and Howell stood facing the king and the general was giving a report. The king, wearing a dazzling red robe, and adorned with hordes of jewellery, sat on his throne and listened intently to his general’s report.

Suddenly Harran saw something that made him gasp. Standing calmly next to the king, dressed in typical dwarven clothing, was a lizardman!

Harran looked around at the assembled dwarves in shock. Didn’t they see the lizardman next to their king? What was wrong with everyone? Why did they allow this creature to be here?

Manhar finished his report and the king nodded distantly. “Continue to monitor that area, Manhar. We may find signs of the lizardmen there, if they exist.”

Harran’s head spun. “If they exist? There was one right next to him! What was he talking about?”

The lizardman bent and whispered something into the king’s ear. The king nodded. “Try the tunnels to the northwest, General. There are more suitable hideouts there for any potential intruders.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Manhar stiffly. By his expression, he was not pleased with this choice of locations.

The announcer approached the king and announced that a dwarf was here to see him to have his honour restored.

“Bring him before me,” ordered the king. “Let’s see if he’s got anything worthwhile to give me in exchange for his honour.”

The announcer waved Harran forward and Harran approached the spot where General Manhar and his commander stood. The general recognized him at once but said nothing. He eyed Harran’s chain mail and ice axe with more than curiosity, however.

Harran faced the king and gave the customary salute, slapping his left shoulder with his right hand. “My king,” he said.

“State your name,” ordered the king. Obviously he didn’t recognize Harran.

“Harran Mapmaker,” said Harran. He could have sworn the lizardman hissed lightly just then. As it was, the creature glared at him with slitted eyes. Harran glared back and the creature seemed somewhat taken aback.

The king leaned forward intently, recognition dawning on his face. “Ah, yes! I remember you! You’re the one who started all this nonsense about lizardmen! Because of you, many others have imagined seeing those creatures! As yet, we have no evidence of them even existing!”

Harran didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Was the king blind?

“You wish to restore your honour,” said the king, who was obviously anxious to get Harran out of the way. “Do you have one of the three items? Or do you have another tall tale for me?”

Some nobles in the room laughed at the king’s joke.

“I have all three items, Sire,” declared Harran.

The king blinked. “Did I just hear you right? You have an item of inestimable worth, an item of extreme rarity, AND an item of the distant past?”

“Yes, Sire,” said Harran.

“Show us,” ordered the king.

Harran pulled out his ice axe, allowing it to glint in the nearby torchlight. “The item of extreme rarity,” said Harran, turning so all in the throne room could see and hear. “An ice axe.” Several in the crowd murmured appreciatively.

Harran placed the ice axe on the floor in front of him. Then he removed the ancient chain mail and held it up for all to see. “An item of the distant past,” said Harran proudly. He placed that on the floor on top of his axe. “It belonged to Hagen Ironfaust while he was still in the elite guard. He later took over the throne from King Hammarschist and sent the former king and his family into exile deep in the mountain.”

“Nonsense!” the king spluttered. “Ironfausts have always ruled the dwarves!”

“Apparently not, Sire,” said Harran. “The name and rank are quite clear on the shoulder pad, along with whom he served.”

There were several surprised murmurs among the nobles at this news.

“Bring the chain mail to me, General,” ordered the king.

Manhar complied, carrying the chain mail up the stairs to the throne. The king squinted at the crest and his eyebrows twitched in consternation. “Impossible! It must be a fake!”

“The dwarven smiths will confirm its age and authenticity,” said Harran.

The king looked up from his examination of the chain mail. “I will send it to the smiths to determine just that. Until then, I will avoid judgement on this item.”

Harran shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He opened the pouch at his side and withdrew the dragon conch, to a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’. “The item of inestimable worth!” declared Harran. He laid the dragon conch on the floor beside the ice axe.

Suddenly everything began to shimmer and whirl and Harran rose unsteadily. When he looked up, two things had changed. First, the pile of ordinary rocks was no longer ordinary. They were huge gold nuggets. Second, the lizardman next to the king was now a pleasant-looking dwarf.

It occurred to Harran suddenly that all the dwarves in the room were under a powerful magical spell, and now he was too! No wonder no one reacted to the lizardman’s presence! They didn’t see him as he was! As long as Harran had the conch shell in his possession, he saw things as they were, not as they appeared!

“Bring the other items to me, General,” ordered the king. “I will examine them up close.”

Manhar nodded down to Howell, who quickly stooped to pick up the magical items. He rose somewhat shakily and froze when he saw what Harran suspected he would see. The commander glanced briefly at Harran, who nodded in understanding.

Then Howell turned to the lizardman and charged, howling, “Imposter!”

General Manhar misunderstood and dropped the chain mail. He drew his axe to defend his king but Commander Howell never got close. The lizardman pointed a short staff he had hidden under his cloak and blasted the commander with a fireball. Howell was thrown backward with the impact, and the conch shell was knocked from his hand. It rolled to Harran’s feet.

The king was on his feet and spluttering in fury. Many of the assembled dwarves were on their feet as well. Manhar’s jaw hung open in surprise. He didn’t know what was going on.

Harran took charge at that point. On a sudden impulse, he picked up the dragon conch, raised it to his lips, and blew. The throne room shimmered and everything appeared as it should, the pile of ordinary rocks on the floor, and the lizardman standing beside the king.

Manhar recognized the threat and raised his sword to attack the lizardmage.

The lizardmage hissed and chanted a spell. As the sword came down, the lizardmage disappeared in a flash of sparkling dust.

Guards from every corner of the palace came running into the throne room, alerted by the sound of the dragon conch. Bravery and determination showed in their eyes.

Nobles murmured in confusion and the king continued to splutter, wild-eyed and confused.

“Silence!” bellowed Harran. The crowd quieted. Even the king became silent.

Harran turned and addressed the assembled dwarves.

“I was sent from the dwarven realm several weeks ago in shame and dishonour,” began Harran, loudly so everyone could hear. “It was partly because of a dispute with the king regarding the re-emergence of the lizardmen. He said I was under the influence of magic when I claimed to have encountered them at the boundaries of our realm. I showed their location on a map which I had given the king’s general to investigate. By then, the lizardmen no doubt returned and used magic to hide the passageway from the soldiers who went to investigate. They obviously couldn’t allow their presence to become known. Thus, the king sent me away in shame for misleading him, instead of investigating further. His mind was closed to the possibility that the lizardmen were back.

“In my travels through the human realm,” continued Harran, “I encountered evidence of the lizardmen’s re-emergence at the Tower of Hope, where a severe battle had taken place. I encountered those creatures again in the south as they emerged from the Five Fingers Mountains to prepare to strike at the elves. I and my companions, which included an elf, a centaur, a few humans, a minotaur, and a human dragon mage, prevented that force from following through with their plans by greatly disrupting the army before it could react.

“From there, we alerted the elven king of the danger, and he and the centaur king made plans to quash the remainder of the raiders before they could regroup.”

Some of the dwarven nobles were impressed with Harran’s story and murmured among themselves.

“Then,” continued Harran boldly, “my companions and I sailed north to find a way to end the vicious battle between the minotaurs and humans. The lizardmages were there too, manipulating the minotaur forces and their leader, who had become corrupt under the influence of the lizardmage advising him.” Harran turned to look at his king. “Not unlike the situation here, I might add.”

The king glared back defiantly.

“Then,” continued Harran, turning back to the assembled dwarves, “the minotaur in my group entered the minotaur election battles that were taking place. His goals were to stop the war, defeat the lizardmages who manipulated them (they have a strong sense of honour just like we do), and retake the throne that was his by birth. He succeeded.”

Murmurs of amazement rang through the throne room.

Harran turned and glared at the king. “That was the same minotaur I helped to escape from the palace’s dungeons!” he growled. “The king refused to believe me when I told him this minotaur was honourable and noble, and demanded he be executed that morning instead!”

The king reddened and started to splutter again.

“Then!” cried Harran, cutting off the king’s reply, “I return to the dwarven realm to restore my honour, only to see that the king is under the influence of a lizardmage’s spell!” Harran turned back to the assembled dwarves. “Finally, when I display the three items meant to restore my honour and wealth tenfold, what happens? The king questions each item as if it were a lie!”

Murmurs of anger rose from the nobles and guards. Many looked at the king angrily.

“I have seen heroic deeds and actions often in the past several weeks,” said Harran, “but not one of them were performed by a dwarf. Where were the dwarves, you might ask? They were holed up in the mountain like cowards, searching in the wrong places for the lizardmen they didn’t even believe existed!”

At this, several nobles and guards growled at the insult.

“There you overstep your bounds!” cried the king, finally able to find the words to speak. “We are not hiding! We are simply blocking off the humans so they can carry out their war with the minotaurs elsewhere! They only want us to expend our lives to gain territory for themselves!”

“Who told you that?” asked Harran.

“Why—um,” stammered the king.

“It was the lizardman, wasn’t it?” asked Harran. “Haven’t you been listening? The lizardmen started this war! The humans were on the defensive the entire time! By distracting the elves and the dwarves, the lizardmen were hoping to single out the humans and defeat them!”

“That’s their problem!” declared the king angrily.

“Is it?” asked Harran. “Once the humans are destroyed, who do you think will come to our aid when magic-wielding lizardmen attack us? The minotaurs?”

Angry murmurs rose in the throne room.

“We are allies with the humans,” continued Harran. “Allies help one another. We are obligated by honour to be there when there is a cry for help. We have not done that. Is our race’s honour exaggerated? I think not. It is not too late to become involved. The last I heard, the lizardmen are once again attacking the Tower of Hope, and there are no human reinforcements within a week’s travel of the tower. They are all tied up at the Tower of Strength to the east.”

Harran sighed. “I no longer care what any of you think. I for one will do what is honourable and go there to help, whether my honour is restored or not. I am not afraid to die for my friends and allies. The only thing I fear is that I will die knowing that my race is cowardly and dishonourable!”

The throne room was silent as Harran walked toward the king. King Ironfaust stepped back in alarm. General Manhar didn’t move. Then Harran simply stooped to pick up the ancient chain mail and put it on.