The Champions (3 page)

Turning on his heel, Seth decided it was best to concentrate
on carrying out his twin’s orders. The mission was to slow the advance of the
invading army. It was now only a few hours after daybreak. Unimpeded, the foot
troops of Sigrant could make it to Valdadore by nightfall. Seth had no
intention of leaving them unimpeded. Thus he stood and waited as the gap
between himself and the enemy narrowed.

Seth watched as Borrik crashed down among the enemy, landing
heavily upon their bodies. He lashed out with blade and magical fire, sending
soldiers screaming in panic in all directions. Within seconds a small circle of
destruction remained as Borrik took flight once again. Where Borrik left off,
his flying female counterpart, Eve, took over. Down she swooped at those who
had fled Borrik, and snatching a pair of the retreating foot soldiers up, she
ripped them apart with her talons before letting them fall once again. Over and
over the scene replayed itself as the distance between the forces slowly
shrank.

Seth reached out with his mind and connected with his
remaining troops. He infused each of them with power to sustain their blessings
further. The kingdom needed his champions to save those who were defenseless.
Yet what good were they really doing, killing these humans in order to save
other humans? Did it really make a difference? Lost in his thoughts he absently
watched as his men broke ranks and charged their nearest enemies. There they
tore with teeth and claws, their blades and might, through the ranks of
Sigrant’s soldiers, careful to remain near the front lines.

The Knights of Valdadore waded back into the fray as well.
Slowly, as intended, the defending Valdadorians fell back, little by little,
giving ground as needed but slowing the invading army to a crawl. Borrik
relayed information from the air to Jonas at Seth’s side, who told his master
of the enemies’ progress. Seth focused himself on the task at hand.

Action upon the battlefield was finally going as planned, or
at least that was what everyone presumed, until Borrik relayed a message from
the air to his master of an impending danger that threatened to destroy them
all.

Linaya, the King of Valdadore’s wife-to-be, and Zorbin
Ironfist, his most trusted knight, awoke in darkness the morning Valdadore
first met its foes. The entire day previous they had spent traversing tunnels
bored through the mountain range known as the Rancor Mountains. Hour after long
hour the pair were led through one dark passage after another, ever downward.

Their guide was a dwarf named Gumbi-something or other, a
warrior of some sort dressed in lavish armor of a style Linaya had never seen
before. From head to toe the dwarf was covered in scales of metal, each
polished to a shine. Within each scale a gem had been set, so that the armor
glittered and sparkled in the light of the torches they passed in a myriad of
colors and hues. Zorbin, entrusted with Linaya’s care, spoke to the other dwarf
in their own tongue as they walked. It seemed to Linaya that they walked
endlessly down to meet with the ruler of the dwarven race.

How deep the stout men could possibly have delved into the
world, Linaya was unsure. What she did realize, though, was that if forced to
flee for any reason, she would never find her way out from this place. Tunnels
and other passages intersected at odd intervals with the one they traversed,
and to her, each of them looked the same.

Sometimes the corridor they were in changed direction
suddenly, only to veer back the original way again a hundred yards later.
Nothing in the warrens of the Dwarves seemed natural to Linaya, yet here she
was the oddity.

From time to time as they walked they would encounter other
dwarves. Passing these, or pausing to greet them, Linaya often became an item
of scrutiny. The dwarves, seemingly all men, would appraise her, and apparently
finding nothing to their liking, would then return their gaze to something of
greater import. Linaya felt uneasy.

That was never the feeling she got when men looked upon her
in Valdadore. It was not her usual reaction to the obvious lust that hungrily
showed in their eyes. It was something different, new. This was more like
panic. Garret had sent her upon this mission in hopes that she could use her
looks to persuade the male leader of this race into joining their cause.
However, now it appeared that dwarves had no interest in human women. She
wondered if her future husband had already been privy to this fact. More often
than not, after having looked upon her, the dwarves they encountered on their
journey deep into the underworld would look away with pity or disgust upon
their faces. What in the hell was wrong with them?

Here in this world a woman considered almost too desirable
amongst humans, was seen as uncouth and abhorrent by the stout race of men who
dwelt in it. Linaya wondered just how she would persuade their king to send aid
to Valdadore if he could not even stand to look upon her. Her worst fear
acknowledged, Linaya found herself trapped. She could not leave on her own,
knowing all too well she would become lost in the cavernous home of the dwarves.
Yet if she stayed, she likely served no purpose.

The entire day she walked behind the pair of dwarves who
paid her scant attention. She did not understand a word that escaped their
lips. Finally, as the day apparently ended, the dwarf in scaled armor led both
her and Zorbin to a small chamber off the tunnel they followed, then stalked
off after relaying something to Zorbin in the dwarven tongue.

“What did he say?” Linaya demanded, finally able to speak to
Zorbin and aggravated by the long hours of being ignored.

“He said to rest the night here, since you could obviously
use the beauty sleep,” Zorbin responded with a smirk.

“Ha ha,” Linaya replied. “So if they think me a disgusting
wretch, then what purpose do I serve here?”

Zorbin shook his head, showing that he too was unsure what
either of them could do.

“How did he even know that it is night-time?” Linaya asked
another question.

“He feels it. Do you not?” Zorbin replied.

“I feel tired. I feel disoriented. I feel we have wasted our
time,” Linaya declared.

“As do I, Lady Linaya.”

“What is it the two of you spoke of for the whole day?”
Linaya asked yet again.

“We spoke of the goings on here in Boulder Gate. We spoke of
days past. He filled me in on the happenings in the warrens, who has passed,
the mood of the thanes, and the current temperament of the king.”

“And you have learned…?” Linaya probed, hoping that her
annoyed day of silence had given them something of use.

“Gumbi thinks it unlikely the king will send aid to our
kingdom. He says the thanes have been arguing about mining rights. The king is
in a poor mood as of late. He tires of squabbling. He is old and wishes for
peace and quiet. However, he is expected to step down soon in which case a new
king will be chosen from the houses of the thanes.

“But how does that affect our mission?” Linaya asked,
missing the point.

“Lady Linaya, the king is old and many expect him to give up
his throne. He has made his name and carved it into the walls of the dwarven
kingdom to last for all time. He is weary and wants to rest for the remainder
of his days. It is time for a new king. A younger, more ambitious king. One who
has yet to bring glory or wealth to the dwarves. A new king will want to do
something memorable in order to inscribe his name on the walls of his home as
well. This could give us an opportunity. If the current king declines our wish,
Garret told us to stay and await new orders. But if a new king takes the
throne, we will get a second chance to garner assistance for the kingdom we
serve,” Zorbin explained.

“Perhaps we should begin speaking to the upcoming king now?
Do we know who the successor will be?” Linaya asked.

“No. Each warren will put forward a successor to the king.
Some will offer up the thanes of the warren themselves. Then there will be a
battle of proving, and he who is to lead the dwarves will be its victor. That
victor will become king and lead the dwarven nation into a new era. Hopefully
we can sway him to send us help. Unless, of course, we can get the current king
to aid us first.”

“So we may get two chances to succeed,” Linaya thought out
loud. “This is good. So what do you suggest we do now?”

“I suggest we sleep. Gumbi will return in the morning to
escort us the rest of the way into the city. Once there we can request an
audience with the king,” Zorbin replied.

So it was decided. Looking around the room Linaya realized
that the dwarves were a very talented race. Everything in the room was carved
of stone, though she knew not the purpose of the room itself. Into one wall
rows upon rows of bunks sat atop one another where more than forty people could
sleep. There were as many chairs in the room, and great tapestries clung to the
stone walls adding color and life to the otherwise blandness. Upon one wall a
small half circle of stone jutted out three feet above the floor, and
approaching it Linaya was surprised to hear water trickling. Within the small
fountain water ran cold and clear to pool in the center where once again it
disappeared into the stone. The dwarves had running water.

Cupping several handfuls she washed her face and hands, and
then chose one of the many bunks to lay down in. Her imagination was filled
with what other wonders the days and caverns ahead might reveal, but
eventually, long after Zorbin began snoring, Linaya too fell asleep to dream of
fanciful things.

*****

The companions rested in the tavern of Paldoon’s Hold, the
trio having traveled as quickly as they had been able for the better part of a
week. It had been near two decades since any of them had been this far south,
this close to the capital. Much had changed in those years, yet much more had
remained the same.

All three had planned together to come to the capital with
the spring thaw, having heard tales of the past Choosing ceremony. Yet with the
impending war, it seemed the king himself had called them out of retirement.

Many still traveled from the fringes of the kingdom
following the king’s orders to gather at the city of Valdadore. For those, like
these three who traveled from the north, trekking through the deep snow could
be a slow process.

Tales abounded in the tavern as to the deeds of the king and
his brother, and the three companions were astonished to learn that Prince Seth
had married a young woman named Sara. One such tale said that the young bride
had been slain in the battle with the black horde, however the mage Seth had
powers unlike anything seen before upon Thurr. Returning weeks after vanishing,
the prince came once again to Valdadore with his bride in tow, having
resurrected her from the dead. The companions had a good laugh over this tale.
Stories of healing miracles came with every major battle, but none came back
from the dead.

Sitting at the very same table where once, it was said, the
young king and his companions had sat, the retired warriors of Valdadore rested
quietly, absorbing the stories and conversations taking place around them. Each
of them looked about, listening intently for more than an hour after they had
finished their meal. The nearer they got to the castle, the more people they
saw. Here, a few days away from the city of Valdadore, this town was bustling
with activity. People were still trickling into town, but a steady stream was
pouring out of it. As much as the companions would have liked to spend the
night in a bed within the town, it seemed the tavern they sat in was closing
its doors this very night so that the owners themselves could heed the call of
the king.

The nation of Valdadore was marching to war. Not just the
soldiers and magicians. Everyone would play their part in this battle, and the
three friends watched as the room began to clear. The proprietor had announced
little more than thirty minutes prior that there would be no more food or ale
served. Most had already left the tavern. Feeling as rested as they would
likely be in the days to come, each of the trio of companions sat forward in
their chairs, leaning nearer to one another to speak without being overheard.

“Do you think the boys will still be in the city?” Rose
asked, her mouth and eyes wrinkling at the corners as the concern showed
plainly on her face.

“I don’t know,” James replied. “If anything we have heard is
true, it sounds as if we are all in real danger.”

“Don’t worry yourself, James. What we do know is that both
of the boys are alive and well. Beyond that they are blessed. We will get word
of their whereabouts in the next day or so and then we can go and see them for
ourselves,” Jack reassured the worried father.

The truth was, all three had been worried about the twins
for months, even though they had received messages from Valdadore through an
old friend. Abruptly, however, those messages had stopped coming. Then one day
a messenger had arrived in Vineleaf declaring a king’s order. All who had
served the kingdom in the last twenty years were to return to service to face
an invading foe. James had questioned the messenger to learn that not only had
King Valdadore died, but a young knight named Garret had become his successor.

It was in that moment James had called upon his blessing for
the first time in two decades and, exploding in size, had snatched the
messenger clear off his horse. Grasping the man in one immense hand he
questioned the royal envoy until he had every scrap of information about his
sons that was available.

That night, James, Jack, and Rose left Vineleaf. Though none
of them was in prime condition, living on the outskirts of the kingdom each of
them had stayed healthy enough over the years building lives for themselves and
their community. Hard work had kept them relatively young, though age had begun
to creep up on them. Each of them was in fact much older than anyone else would
have guessed. The blessed of the gods aged slower than normal mortals.