The Wealth of Kings (16 page)

“Come on, Al, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Threnton teased.

Before Al could think of a plan of action, the human circled out around the bed in a wide arc, maintaining a good distance between them as his hands weaved another spell in front of him. Al jumped up to his feet and charged the human.

Another sphere shot out. This time, Al was unable to dodge it entirely. It snagged his left arm and then it turned silver as the orb seemed to freeze in place. Al’s arm was stuck. His skin was compressed and held still, but it wasn’t very painful. Al tugged against the spell, but couldn’t free his arm.

“Don’t waste your time,” Threnton said. “It’s pointless to struggle now.”

The human prepared another spell. Al raised his hammer and threw it. The weapon spun end over end, flying in Threnton’s direction. The other dwarf easily ducked under the hammer. The weapon flew into the door and smashed heavily into it before falling to the floor.

Then a flash of gold enveloped Al’s body from his neck to his toes and started to squeeze him. Al struggled to breathe. The pressure came in from all sides. He was now trapped. He moved to yell, but a red orb hit him in the neck, and his voice was taken from him. Any time Al opened his mouth to call for help, a barely audible wheeze was all that came out.

“I need your face free so I can study it a moment,” the human said as he moved in close to Al. “Then, when I am done, we can finish this nasty business and you will be free.”

Threnton moved around and laughed at Al. “By free, he means dead, just in case that wasn’t clear.”

Al tried to move, tried to yell at his brother, but there was nothing he could do. The spell held him fast, suspended in the air and entirely helpless. The human moved in and placed his fingers on Al’s forehead. He ducked in and around his own arm, studying Al’s face for several moments.

Then, the human turned and muttered something Al didn’t understand.

Before Al’s very eyes, Threnton turned into an exact physical copy of Al. Everything was identical, down to the last hair.

“Marvelous, isn’t it?” Threnton asked as he spun for Al to see. “This way, I can rule from the throne and none of them will need to know it is me. Soon, I will bring back the dwarves that are loyal to me. Eventually I will remove the mask, of course, but by then it will be too late to stop me. Your rule is over.”

Threnton then turned to the human. “Go and get the bodies. We can’t risk them being seen.”

The human quickly moved out of Al’s limited field of vision. When he returned, he was dragging the two guards along the floor. He took them out to the balcony through the tunnel.

“Don’t worry,” Threnton told Al. “We will take you out to join them next.”

Al couldn’t believe it. Everything he had been through with Erik and Master Lepkin. Fighting dragons, orcs, and wizards, and now he was outwitted by his brother. His mind flashed back to the fight they had had in the throne room.

Threnton came in close. “I bet you are wishing you had killed me when you had the chance,” he whispered. “That is where we differ, brother,” Threnton continued. He pulled a dagger and moved to stab Al, but a knock came at the door.

“Sire, are you alright?”

Al knew the voice at once. Judging from the scowl on Threnton’s face, he had recognized it also.

“I am fine, Alferug, go away.”

Al smiled. He couldn’t scream, but his mouth still could move. He gathered as much spittle as he could and then he launched it directly into Threnton’s face.

“Gargh!” Threnton yelled as he stepped back and wiped the liquid from his face.

“My king?!” Alferug shouted from the other side of the door.

“I’m fine!” Threnton shouted, but it was too late. The door was already opening.

Threnton rushed in, sheathing his dagger and reaching out to push Al back toward the bed. Al tried to struggle, but the spell held fast.

He landed hard, but with his face pointed under the bed. He couldn’t warn Alferug, and Alferug was too late to see him.

“Forgive me, my king, I thought I heard you struggling.” Alferug came in through the door and Al could see his blue leather shoes. They took three steps into the room. “Are you certain everything is alright?”

“I am fine,” Threnton said, impersonating Al’s voice rather well.

“I see,” Alferug said. “I came because I wanted to discuss tomorrow’s meeting.”

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” Threnton said.

“Of course,” Alferug said. His feet turned and Al felt fear grip his soul. If Alferug left the chamber without discovering the danger, then all was lost. Al summoned all of his strength to shout, but nothing happened. He remained trapped in the spell. He watched helplessly as Alferug walked back toward the doorway.

Then the blue shoes stopped. After a moment, Al saw a hand reach down and pick up the hammer he had thrown. Al smiled. There was yet hope. Alferug knew how important the hammer was to Al. He would know that it would never be cast onto the floor.

“My king,” Alferug started. “It appears you dropped your hammer. Shall I place it in its box?” Alferug asked.

“That isn’t necessary, I’ll do it,” Threnton said.

Al could hear Threnton moving around the bed.

“It’s alright,” Alferug said. “I don’t mind. Tell me, is the box still in the desk drawer?”

Threnton’s footsteps stopped. “As you say,” he replied.

Alferug’s feet turned to point back into the room. They took two steps and then there was a
whoosh
through the air. A second later there was a heavy
thump.
Threnton fell to the ground, moaning.

Alferug rushed in, stepping heavily.

“Sire!” he shouted as he rounded the bed and came to Al.

Al felt himself turning over. He tried to warn Alferug about the human, but his voice still didn’t work. Alferug frowned as Al tried to work his mouth. The advisor glanced out to Threnton and shook his head. “If not for your hammer, I wouldn’t have suspected anything. This is some dark magic indeed!” Alferug worked his hands quickly, trying to tug at the solidified silver globs holding Al in place.

Alferug then went for his mithril dagger. “Hold still,” he whispered. The advisor then stabbed into the material and worked his knife. To Al’s surprise, the tactic worked. Alferug cut away hunks of the silvery stuff only to have each piece sizzle and evaporate as it was separated. Alferug worked at Al’s right arm first, then his left.

As soon as Al had his hands free, he reached for the dagger and pulled it out of Alferug’s hands. Al’s left hand went up to his throat, feeling for where the red gob had struck him. He found a lip under the material and then plunged the flat of the knife in, sliding the side between his skin and the spell that sealed his voice.

“Careful, now. Let me do this part,” Alferug demanded. He took the handle, pushing Al’s hands away. He gently cut through the material, careful not to injure Al. All at once the stuff broke in half and fell like pieces of shattered clay.

“Threnton!” Al said quickly. “It’s Threnton, and there is a wizard.”

Alferug froze, his brow knit together and his eyes flashing hot. The advisor turned, but then his body went rigid and he groaned. Al looked up and saw that the human had snuck up behind Alferug. The old counselor let out a savage yell and rose to his feet, head-butting the wizard in the chest and driving him away.

Al furiously hacked at the spell holding his legs. He ripped and pulled the pieces apart. As soon as he was free, he was up on his feet and running to help his friend.

The wizard threw Alferug off of him and then followed up with a fireball. Alferug took the spell in the chest and lunged in. He managed to tackle the wizard to the ground, but there was no strength left in him to block the quick double-thrusting attack of the human’s knife afterward.

Al made it to them just as the wizard pushed Alferug’s body off of him and rose to his knees. Al drove Alferug’s mithril dagger into the base of the human’s skull, yanking it up into the man’s cranium and ending him.

The dwarf king looked down to his gasping friend as he dropped the lifeless wizard.

There was nothing he could do for Alferug. Al leaned down and held his friend as the last gasps of air left his body. As the light dimmed in Alferug’s eyes, Al heard another deep, loud breath.

He looked up to see Threnton coming back to consciousness.

Al gently laid Alferug back down on the floor and moved to Threnton.

The former king was clutching his chest as he turned to see Al walking toward him. “Remember,” Threnton said. “You aren’t like me.”

Al gripped the mithril dagger in his hand and set his jaw. “Goodbye, Threnton,” Al said.

Threnton’s eyes went wide as the blade plunged into his heart. The dwarf convulsed twice and then went still.

Al rose from his brother’s corpse and then left his room. If Threnton had gained access through the library, then maybe it was still open. Al would find out now if it was, and then afterward he would allow himself to mourn Alferug.

The dwarf king took his hammer in hand and made his way down the hall to the large mirror on the wall. As he hoped, he found it slightly ajar, propped open by a book. Al yanked the door open and hurried through to the library. What he found only gave him cause for grief. Books littered the floor and everything was tossed around haphazardly. It was obvious that Threnton had already been here, looking for clues to the Wealth of Kings.

Al wiped a streak of dust off the back of an overturned bookshelf and rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. Al yelled and bent down to strike a fist on the back of the wooden shelf. The wood split apart and Al beat it again and again. His cries echoed out from the small library and down the hall, but he didn’t care. His frustration had boiled over what he could contain. He lifted the broken bookcase up and tossed it into a wall. He tore through the room like a whirlwind of fists and rage. Incensed, the dwarf king began picking up books and throwing them as well. The pages flittered and flapped through the air until they struck the wall and fell back to the floor.

He moved to the desk, grabbing one of the ends and hoisting it up to his waist. It was heavy, built of extremely dense wood, but Al didn’t let it stop him. He shifted into a deep squat and then launched the desk over its end, sending it crashing into the wall.

Crack!
The desk split in two. The top half tumbled to the ground, creaking and thumping as it rolled awkwardly down to the floor. Al rushed over, grabbed the broken half and heaved it across the room as he erupted in a feral yell.

The bank of drawers split apart upon impact with the stone. The top of the desk-half flipped up and then ricocheted out. The drawers split and shattered, and the wooden frame of the desk came entirely apart. As it did, a book shot out from what Al had previously thought was a solid wall in the desk.

The binding was made of green leather, the same type of binding used in Sylus’ book of kings.

Al’s fury vanished.

Had he finally found Sylus’ other book?

The dwarf king clambered through the messy hall and bent down to scoop the tome up. It was sealed with a band of leather, but it was easily undone. Al opened the book and read the dark runes on the first page aloud.

“I, King Sylus Magdinium, pen this tome by mine own hand. If you have found it, then I suspect the bloodgrass has returned and you are searching for the Wealth of Kings. Read on, and I will explain everything, but know this, in the year the bloodgrass returns, there shall be much sorrow and suffering. Beware that you do not squander the lives of our kin in searching for that which is cursed.”

Year 3,499 King’s Era.

299
th
year of the reign of Sylus Magdinium, 5
th
King of Roegudok Hall.

King Sylus stood pouring over a map of shaft 37. A mug of stale ale left its ring on the wooden table as the king ignored the drink. His back faced the large, mithril portcullis that he had erected in the tunnel as a final precaution. Around him and through the tunnel were camped one thousand dwarven soldiers. There were seven hundred cavedogs as well. Beyond the great mithril portcullis were another two thousand warriors. Those two legions were commanded by Sylus’ sons, Ravik and Thorin.

“My king, come quickly!” a dwarf shouted as he ran toward Sylus from the other side of the portcullis.

Sylus looked up from his map. Dwarves were hopping into motion all around him. A pit formed in his stomach. Without even turning to see the runner, Sylus knew that the day he feared was upon him. The dwarf king turned and saw what he had hoped he never would.

The dwarf was running, nearly stumbling as he crossed beyond the mithril gate, and clinging to his left arm with his right hand. Blood streaked down from the left shoulder and ran over the dwarf’s right hand. Sweat and blood matted the runner’s hair. He cried out again as he fell to his knees.

“Come quickly, sire, we are under attack!” The dwarf’s eyes were wide, and his chest heaved for breath. A few medical officers ran to him, but the runner collapsed to the floor, his skin ashen-white. His breathing slowed until his last breath escaped.

Sylus didn’t bother checking the runner himself. He knew the look of death when he saw it. There would be nothing he, nor any of the medical officers could do to bring the runner back.

“To arms!” Sylus shouted. The army moved into position as quickly as they could. Sylus’ cavedog zipped up next to him and he launched atop his saddle. He strode toward the gate and pointed to a group of seven dwarven footmen. “You seven stay here. Once we have passed through the gate, you close it.”

“My king, you would be trapped inside.”

Sylus nodded. “If I come back, you can reopen it. But it ends today. No more dwarves are allowed into this tunnel beyond this point. Close it. That is an order.”

The dwarves nodded solemnly.

Sylus urged his mount onward. Soon he was joined by the sound of hundreds of claw-tipped lizard feet sprinting down the tunnel with him. They covered the three miles to where his sons had camped in less than twenty minutes, but by the looks of the battle, it was at least twenty minutes too late for most of the soldiers.

The mining chamber in this section of the tunnel spanned a mile across and was two miles long, tapering toward the end of the hall. The ceiling arced more than fifty feet overhead, with large spikes and columns of addorite stretching downward. It had taken ninety-two years to develop the mine, and the dwarves had fought lurkers and demons every step of the way. However, once they reached this massive chamber, they found more addorite here than even Tu’luh had imagined possible. Over the last year, they had concentrated solely on extracting the addorite from this chamber. If all had gone well, they would likely have been able to stop mining the pink crystal after this area had been mined out.

Seeing the destruction now, Sylus wished he had never agreed to mine for the cursed crystal.

The glistening, pink crystals adorned large swaths of the chamber’s walls. They hung from the ceiling above as well, but now their color was tainted by black smoke and crimson blood. An army of lurkers was cutting through the dwarven ranks furiously, backed, or perhaps led by a dozen demons.

Bodies lay everywhere. Miners made up the majority of the corpses heaped upon the ground, but there were well over a thousand dwarf soldiers lying dead upon the stone as well. Sprinkled throughout the heaps of dwarven bodies were dead lurkers and a few fallen demons, but the odds looked to be very much against the dwarves. Sylus feared the worst for his sons. He could not see any sign of them or their flags anywhere.

The dwarf king led the charge for a pair of demons that were busy crushing a battered group of soldiers two hundred yards in front of them.

“Crossbows!” Sylus shouted as they rode into the battle.

Bolts were pulled back into place as the soldiers prepared to fire. The cavedogs snarled and growled ferociously. The group of dwarves fighting the demons turned and ran toward Sylus, cheering at seeing reinforcements arrive. Sylus took aim with his double-bolt crossbow and fired at the closest demon.

The giant creature roared as the bolts closed in. A pair of brown, shiny wings wrapped around the demon like a cocoon, shielding it from the bolts. The second demon, seeing the first protect itself from the barrage of crossbow bolts, uttered an arcane spell that summoned a sphere of yellow energy around itself which deflected the crossbow bolts.

“They have magic!” one of the soldiers called out.

Sylus set his jaw and pulled Murskain, his mighty warhammer out and prepared for melee.

The others put away their crossbows and pulled axes, swords, and spears.

Sylus was the first to reach the winged demon. He darted under the wings and struck out at the demon’s leg with his hammer. To the dwarf king’s satisfaction, the front of the demon’s leg was not made of the same, shield-like skin that formed its wings. The shin split open and a river of blood coursed down the demon’s shin. It pulled its leg up and launched into the air, taking flight with several hundred crossbow bolts protruding from its wings.

“Fire again!” Sylus ordered.

It took a few seconds, but a group of fifty dwarves pulled their crossbows out again and fired at the demon’s belly. This time, the shafts struck true and the poisoned bolts worked their magic. The demon cried out in pain and convulsed uncontrollably as its wings collapsed and it crashed to the ground. In a larger turn of fortune, the demon crushed several lurkers beneath its weight, killing them as it twitched and writhed on the floor while the poison continued to work through its system.

“Look out!” someone shouted from behind.

Sylus turned to see the other demon casting yellow and orange fireballs out at the dwarves. The magical spheres exploded on impact. Some hit the floor and walls, spewing sparks and shards of stone and crystal, while others hit their target and obliterated dozens of dwarves and cavedogs, sending bodies rocketing through the air.

Sylus turned to engage the demon, but a lurker jumped over a pile of bodies and blocked his way. A massive, deadly claw streaked in front of Sylus, but it missed him. The lurker then swung with its other claw. This time, Sylus was forced to duck under the deadly, white appendage. Unfortunately, the lurker also launched a savage kick with one of its forelegs that caught Sylus’ cavedog. Sylus fell to the stone as his cavedog skittered and bounced across the stone, squeaking and sprawling as it reached out with its claws.

The dwarf king looked up and saw both white claws coming down toward him. He held up his hammer and barely managed to stop the assault before the tips of the claws reached his face. The lurker snarled and leaned its weight forward. Sylus grunted as he struggled to keep the claws up with his hammer. The shiny, black scales along the lurker’s underbelly shone a dark red as they were smeared with blood from the battle. The long, wicked fangs dripped with a mixture of blood and saliva as the beast opened its mouth and roared.

Sylus knew he was trapped. The lurker needed only to strike down with its mouth, and everything would be over.

The creature arched backward, preparing to strike with its terrible fangs. It snarled once and opened its mouth as wide as possible.

Then, a gleaming arrow flew into the lurker’s mouth and exploded out the back of its head with a great spray of the nasty, yellow goo the lurkers had inside of them. A second later, a pair of dwarves rode in. The first struck the base of the creature’s neck with his axe. The weapon bit through the scales, but failed to sever the head entirely. The second dwarf finished the task by driving his weapon into the gaping wound. They then turned and leapt from their cavedogs. The giant lizards lunged up, knocking the thrashing lurker body to the side and freeing Sylus.

The dwarf king rose to his feet and turned to see his son Ravik. Sylus nodded proudly at his son.

Ravik smiled and leapt atop a cavedog, riding it toward the fireball-throwing demon. He was one of the few dwarves to ever wield an actual bow. Most of the soldiers preferred crossbows, but Ravik had been blessed with arms long enough to wield a compact re-curve bow forged by the elves. It allowed him to fire upon enemies from a much greater distance than any crossbow-wielding dwarf, but that didn’t mean Ravik was useless at melee combat. Quite the opposite was true. Ravik slid the bow over his shoulder and pulled a large, curved scimitar out from a black scabbard and charged the demon.

Sylus ran to his cavedog, and upon seeing that the animal was not injured save for a few scratches, clambered atop the saddle and charged in to help his son.

The forty-foot-tall demon had dropped its sphere, likely so it could continue to throw fireballs. It kicked and thrashed at the dwarves who came in close, squishing any slow enough not to evade his furious stomps. Ravik joined four others and they went for the left leg.

Sylus charged in, but from his vantage he saw something the others did not. The demon was squatting down, preparing to jump. Everything seemed to slow as Sylus called out to his son. Ravik never heard the warning.

The demon launched into the air before Ravik or the others could reach the leg. The gigantic creature sprawled out in the air, holding each hand out toward the ground as it tucked its feet up under itself. Two large cyclones of fire shot out from the hands. One whirled down and consumed seven dwarves and their cavedogs. The other snaked downward toward Ravik.

Ravik turned his cavedog away, but the force of the firenado was too strong. The four dwarves behind Ravik were pulled into the fire first, screaming and flailing as they flew up to be swallowed by the fire.

Ravik held tight, but his cavedog could not keep them on the ground. The two of them went up, tumbling backward in the air until the fire consumed them.

Sylus cried out, but he was helpless to stop it. He dropped his hammer and went for his crossbow. Other dwarves must have had the same thought, for several hundred crossbow shafts flew up and bit deeply into the demon’s face and neck. The fires flamed out and the demon fell to the ground, shaking the immediate area around itself.

The dwarf king rushed in, but Ravik was gone. Nothing was left of Sylus’ eldest son.

The dwarves swarmed in around him, fighting off a dozen lurkers that had advanced on their position. Screams and terrible cries of agony rose up all around Sylus, but none were as loud, nor as gut-wrenching, as his. The dwarf king ranted upon the ground and screamed his son’s name over and over.

It wasn’t until he felt a tug at the back of his armor that Sylus regained some of his senses. He turned around to see his cavedog pulling at him, urging him to rejoin the battle. Sylus looked around and saw his soldiers fighting and dying. He looked up to curse Tu’luh, but that was when he saw a score of lurkers crawling across the ceiling. Their black fur helped them blend into the shadows, but he saw them nonetheless.

“Lurkers on the ceiling!” Sylus shouted. “Lurkers on the ceiling!” He knew that if his soldiers didn’t react quickly, the lurkers would drop down behind them.

Fortunately, several dwarves heard Sylus’ warning and the shouts spread through the ranks quickly. Crossbows were pointed up and fired. A couple of lurkers fell to the ground, but most continued on. A couple hundred dwarves moved back, leaping off from their cavedogs and letting the lizards run toward the back of the chamber. By the time the lurkers dropped, the dwarves and cavedogs had prepared, and the lurkers were cut down with minimal losses.

Sylus pressed across the battlefield. He saw another two demons die by his warriors’ hands, but the dwarves were being cut down by the score at the front of the field. The remaining demons spewed fire, conjured lightning, and used massive weapons to obliterate the dwarf lines.

The dwarf king called out orders, sending his warriors in to flank the lurkers and hem them in as much as possible. For ten or fifteen minutes, the battle seemed almost even. Lurkers died in tens and dozens. Dwarves fell just as fast, but the cavedogs were running through and around the lurkers, helping to cut the enemy down.

Another demon fell, a crossbow bolt protruding from its third eye in its forehead. A second demon died shortly after, but then the battle took a turn for the worse.

A winged, fire-breathing demon launched into the air. It spewed fire out over the battlefield and in one swoop killed at least sixty dwarves, as well as many cavedogs that had been in the fire’s path. A group of dwarves moved in and lined up their crossbows, but the winged demon dropped to the ground and took cover behind a row of lurkers. The giant, bug-like monsters charged forward, spitting their vile slime at the dwarves, blinding several of them. The crossbows managed to take down two of the lurkers, but the rest pressed forward until the two groups clashed in battle.

Sylus shook his head as the lurkers ripped through the dwarves and then pressed in to attack another group. A few more dwarves fell before a small group of cavedogs moved in and evened things out by killing three of the lurkers. Sylus then stared with his mouth open in horror as the demon launched upward again and showered the area in a flood of lightning bolts. The purple and blue streaks blasted through the dwarves, dropping them in seconds. Then the demon spewed more fire, killing the lurkers and dwarves unfortunate enough to be caught by the flames.