The Dragons of Ash and Smoke (Tales from the New Earth Book 5) (10 page)

Neither
warrior answered for a long moment. They looked Simon up and down
slowly and he shivered and stared at the enchanted hammers, thinking
how easily they could crush him into a smear on the floor. He gripped
his staff tightly, hoping that it wasn't shaking as badly as his
knees were.

“
He
is a wizard, is he not?” the male asked, his deep voice filled
with disdain.

“
Yes,
if that matters. He is first and foremost a guest of honor of our
people,” Opheilla replied, her voice now as cold as the guards'
eyes. “Will you shame us all by keeping a guest waiting like a
dog outside of the council chambers doors?”

The
guards turned their hostile looks on her and she met them with her
own. The air chilled and, as Simon watched, he thought that the
cleric had never looked so regal and proud.

Finally
the tension broke and both warriors stepped back, grounding their
weapons again.

“
Apologies,
lady cleric,” the female said respectfully. “The council
waits within. You and your guest are welcome to enter.”

“
Thank
you,” Opheilla said, still sounding a little miffed by the
holdup.

The
doors began to open inward by themselves, the metal ringing musically
as they moved.

“
Follow
closely, my friend,” the cleric said under her breath and
strode forward.

Simon
quickly moved to keep up, his knees weak after the confrontation with
the guards. He was thankful for his staff as he leaned on it for
support.

The
council chamber was, like all dwarven structures, huge and ornate. It
was round and about a hundred feet across and almost as high. On the
distant ceiling, a brightly glowing gem, like a miniature copy of
Daemor's Heart, lit the room with yellowish light. Tiers of benches
circled the room, but were empty of spectators. The floor was made of
marble like the hallway behind them, except that it was black with
silver veins.

Across
the room was a dais that rose several feet above the ground. Seated
there were a dozen dwarves, men and women, wearing everything from
simple tunics and trousers to robes. A few were even wearing armor.

A
cross-section of the population was Simon's guess.

In
the center of the dais, a high metal throne, apparently made of gold
and silver and inset with fabulous gems, towered over the council
members. It was occupied by a raven-haired dwarf dressed even more
simply than the people around him.

Wearing
a brown leather vest and matching pants, the dwarf sat comfortably,
nodding at someone's comment. It had to be the king, but the only way
that Simon could tell was the simple silver band the figure was
wearing on his brow.

With
Opheilla leading the way, they began crossing the chamber and Simon
could see more details as they approached the dais. The king's beard
was intricately braided and hung down to his knees as he sat on his
throne. The wizard wasn't able to see the dwarf's face because he was
leaning to the left and had his head turned while he spoke with
several of the council members.

When
they had approached to within twenty feet of the dais, Opheilla
stopped and waited patiently to be noticed.

Simon
stared at the king, thinking that the ruler must be a humble man. Why
else wear such simple garb and chat so casually with his council? He
just wished that they could get on with it. He was getting tired. The
journey there had sapped his meager reserves of strength.

A
woman in the group that the king was speaking with gestured toward
the two visitors and the dwarf nodded and turned on his throne to
stare down at them. The piercing black eyes caught Simon's in their
gaze and the king smiled at him.

“
Welcome,
my friends,” the ruler said warmly and the wizard gaped up at
him. Opheilla chuckled beside him.

“
Stanis!”
Simon finally gasped in disbelief.

The
dwarf threw back his head and laughed heartily. Several of the
council members joined in and the wizard felt his face burn with
embarrassment.

Finally
the king held up a hand and the laughter was cut off abruptly. He
grinned at Simon.

“
Forgive
me, my friend. We are not mocking you. But you should have seen your
expression. It was priceless.”

Simon
had to smile at the comment.

“
Yeah,
I can imagine. But, but Stanis...you're the king? Why didn't you tell
me? You said, way back when we first met, that your father was the
ruler of a small city and that you were his second son.”

Stanis'
face fell and his smile was replaced by a look of sad regret.

“
That
was quite true, my friend, at the time. What I may have neglected to
say was that my father was the younger brother of our king. The king
was killed in our confrontation with the mutated dragons, bravely
leading our troops as a ruler should. He had no heirs and so my
father became king and named my elder brother the heir apparent.
Several months ago, they were both murdered by a traitorous faction
here in the city. I was wounded but thankfully Opheilla was able to
heal my injuries.”

Simon
stared at him in horror.

“
Murdered?”

Stanis
nodded grimly.

“
But
that's terrible. By your own people? I don't understand.”

“
What
is there to understand, young man?” a councilor commented from
the right side of the throne. He was a heavy-set dwarf with a sparse
beard, wearing a rich purple robe and many gold chains.

“
Dwarves
can be as treacherous as any other race when it comes to grasping for
power. Those traitors wanted to rule and were willing to commit
regicide to do so. They have been neutralized,” he added with a
cold smile.

Simon
shivered. So even here in this ancient city, people could be as evil
and treasonous as humans once were. It was a thought that filled him
with sadness.

“
Thank
you, Durgen,” Stanis said heavily and the other dwarf sat back,
nodding to himself.

“
Yes,
they were rooted out and punished,” the king continued. He
waved a hand at the chambers around them and, when Simon looked back,
he noticed dozens of guards standing like statues along the walls,
almost hidden in the shadows.

“
Now
wherever I go, I'm forced to bring along a compliment of nursemaids
with me. When I visited you, my friend, they waited nearby.”

Stanis
looked at the council members sourly.

“
My
advisors here think it is for the best.”

“
My
lord, we must ensure your safety,” one of the female councilors
protested. She was wearing armor, simple steel, and had her brown
hair tied back in a braid that hung down her back. Her heavy face was
almost pretty but was dark with concern.

“
We
have no way of knowing if all of the rot within our city has been
purged, and we simply cannot lose another ruler. It would shake the
confidence of our people at the worst possible time, especially with
the newest attacks on our perimeter by those cursed goblins.”

“
Goblins?”
Simon blurted out. “You've seen goblins too?”

Stanis
leaned forward and stared down at him.

“
Too?
You have encountered these monsters, my friend?”

Before
the wizard could answer, Opheilla interrupted.

“
My
lord, our young guest is still recovering from his wounds. Could I
request a chair for him. He is sagging from the simple effort of
making this short trip.”

The
king looked concerned and stood up abruptly. He clapped his hands
twice and from behind the dais two dwarves, one male and one female,
appeared. They were wearing simple white tunics with some device
embroidered on the chest.

“
Your
majesty?” the female servant said.

“
Seats
for our guests, please,” Stanis told them. “And some
refreshment. Hurry now.”

Both
of them bowed.

“
At
once, sire,” the man said and, more quickly than Simon would
have believed, they disappeared behind the dais and reappeared with
two comfortable chairs and a small table.

Once
the wizard and the cleric were seated, Simon sighing with relief, the
two servants left and returned with a tray of cups of dwarven tea and
freshly baked biscuits that they left on the table between the
chairs.

Stanis
had waited patiently while his guests were served and now smiled as
he watched them sipping their drinks.

“
There,
that's better,” he told them. “I apologize for the lack
of manners on my part. Now, Simon, tell me about your experience with
these goblins.”

“
Yes
sir,” Simon replied.

He
began to explain about the air elemental scouts he'd sent south to
look for a new location to live in for the residents of Nottinghill,
back when they had decided to move because of wight attacks.

“
In
the old country of Mexico, they came across these huge mounds,”
he said, using his hands to indicate the shape of the structures.
“Only two of the scouts that I sent down there returned alive,”
he added bitterly. “The others were destroyed by the goblins.
Apparently these creatures have magic-users among them. One of my
scouts, whom I luckily recalled while he was in captivity, claims
that he saw a goblin wizard.”

The
councilors stirred and a ripple of uneasy conversation passed between
them. Stanis was frowning down at Simon, but he wasn't really looking
at him, but instead seemed to be thinking deeply.

“
How
long ago did your scouts run into the goblins, young man?” the
female dwarf who had spoken earlier asked him.

“
How
long?”

Simon
tried to figure out how much time had passed. He'd been unconscious
for six months, and the people of Nottinghill had lived down south
for at least a month before that and...

“
Maybe
eight months ago?” he replied hesitantly. “Possibly more.
I'm sorry but with all that's happened to me, it's hard to give you a
precise answer.”

“
Understandable,”
she told him with a little smile and looked at Stanis. “Sire,
it has only been a few months since the first incursions by these
creature along our borders. They are obviously beginning to expand
and, if they act anything like the goblins from the old tales, they
will spread like a plague unless they are firmly repulsed. They
respect and fear only strength.”

“
Yes,
thank you, Ulanda,” the king replied with a sigh. “I've
read all of the lore on the subject. Only a massive show of force
will make them back off and leave us in peace. Even so, they usually
return, sometimes years later, to try again. At least, that is what
our historians tell us.”

He
rubbed his eyes and Simon noticed just how tired his friend looked.

The
burden of rule, he supposed.

“
We
will discuss this after our meeting with our guest,” Stanis
told the council. He sat back on his throne and looked down at the
visitors.

“
My
friend, I called you here mainly to allow my council to meet you face
to face. Stories grow with the telling and none of them have ever met
a wizard before.” He winked. “Your deeds go before you,
and tales can take root in the imaginations of others. You have
defeated four primal dragons, and yes,” he held up a hand as
Simon began to protest, “I know that you did not do it alone.
Nevertheless, you were instrumental in their destruction and your
name and reputation are now spoken of far and wide among my people.
Simon O'Toole, dragon slayer.”

Simon
snorted in disgust and both Stanis and Opheilla chuckled.

“
Your
modesty becomes you, sir wizard,” Ulanda told him approvingly.
“I will admit, I had no idea what kind of a person a wizard
would be, and a human one at that.”

Murmurs
of agreement rippled through the council.

“
But
my king has spoken highly of you and, to be honest, you are not as,
um, intimidating as I imagined.”

Simon
had to grin at her tone.

“
Thank
you, councilor. I've never been, and hope I never will become,
intimidating. I'm sure you all know the story of how my people were
wiped out.” There were general nods all around. “And how
those of us who survived were Changed by the lords of Light. My
powers are still very much a mystery to me. I certainly never asked
to become a wizard. In fact, in my old life, wizards and mages,
dragons and, quite frankly, dwarves, were legends and tall tales.”