The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5) (16 page)

“It is time to go, Ascilius,” shouted Elerian when Ascilius made no move to retreat. “You cannot maneuver between them now.” Eyes red with the battle fury that consumed him, Ascilius continued to ignore Elerian, instead menacing the Trolls with his upraised hammer. 

“Go back,” he shouted, “while you still can.”

The Trolls laughed at Ascilius’s threat. Some of them made rude gestures with their great, clawed fingers while others taunted him, trying to incite him into attacking them again. Behind their bulky bodies, Elerian could see mutare massing in the passageway, their eyes glittering like yellow lamps in the shadows. Soon they would come pouring out to sweep away all before them like a dark flood.

“We must retreat while we can,” Elerian shouted into Ascilius’s left ear, but still, the Dwarf ignored him. 

“In a moment, the fool will rush among them,” thought Elerian angrily to himself. Just then, he heard the pounding of heavy boots behind him. Turning his head, he saw Falco approaching with a dozen Dwarves at his back, all of them armed with long pikes.

“Help me,” shouted Elerian to Falco.

Sheathing Acris, he seized Ascilius from behind by both shoulders, but even his great strength failed to budge the furious Dwarf whose corded muscles seemed hard as stone beneath his mailed shirt.

“Desperate measures,” thought Elerian to himself as he cast a spell. With his third eye, he saw golden light flow from his fingertips, covering Ascilius’s body in an instant. The Dwarf immediately became rigid, as if he had been turned to stone. When Elerian began to drag Ascilius away, the Trolls made as if to pursue him, but Falco bravely rushed forward with his small company, all of them thrusting their weapons at the Trolls, menacing their eyes and faces with their pike points. While they kept the Trolls at bay, Elerian picked up Ascilius in his arms and ran toward the exit to the hall, his awkward, heavy burden testing even his great strength.

Behind him, Falco and his small company suddenly turned and ran for their lives when a swarm of howling mutare rushed between and past the Trolls. The uninjured Trolls joined the rush, eager to avenge their two dead companions.

Upon reaching the passageway leading from the hall, Elerian stood Ascilius on his feet before releasing him from the spell that held him rigid. Then, leaving the indignant Dwarf behind, he ran back into the hall, passing Falco and his company of Dwarves.

“Run!” Elerian shouted urgently to Falco when he saw the Dwarf hesitate. Then, acutely aware of the hordes of mutare rushing toward him, he raised his eyes, looking at the ceiling high overhead.

“I hope that I have taken in enough power to accomplish this,” thought Elerian to himself as he raised his right hand. His third eye opened, allowing him to see a golden orb of light the size of his head as it flew from his hand toward the magically hardened ceiling overhead. Instantly, the sphere thinned and spread, covering a good portion of the roof above him as well as the tops of the pillars that supported it, turning everything back to ordinary stone. A second orb followed the first. With a thunderous crack, a spider web of cracks spread across the ceiling from the point where the second orb struck, followed by a slow, ominous rumble. A heavy, fist-sized piece of stone suddenly fell, striking Elerian a glancing blow on the right side of his head as he wavered on his feet, drained by the two potent spells that he had cast. As a black curtain fell before his eyes, and his head spun, Elerian heard screams of despair from the Trolls and the swarms of mutare trapped in the hall, drowned out an instant latter by the rumble of falling rock. With tons of stone rushing down at him, he sank to the floor, unable to run and filled with sadness at the thought that he would never see Anthea again.

Then, strong hands suddenly grasped his shoulders, and Elerian felt himself effortlessly lifted into the air, as if he weighed nothing at all. As he was carried swiftly away, an avalanche of stone slammed into the floor where he had sat a just a moment ago. Elerian heard heavy doors slam shut behind him and then felt the floor tremble beneath his feet when he was set down as tons of rock filled the entrance hall, burying the doorway that led from the hall into the city.

By the time the last rumble died away, Elerian found that he could see again. He discovered that he was just inside the entranceway to the hall, leaning on Ascilius’s sturdy right shoulder. The Dwarf lowered him to the floor, glaring at him with dark eyes that were full of anger and concern. Pale rock dust covered him from head to toe like a coating of flour.

“You look just like a dumpling ready for the pot,” Elerian observed in a solemn voice.

“You half-wit,” shouted Ascilius angrily. “This is nothing to joke about. I barely got you out of the hall in time.”

“If a stone had not clipped me on the side of the head, I would have gotten out on my own with time to spare,” replied Elerian mildly as he reached up his right hand and gingerly felt the lump on his temple. Blood, warm and sticky coated his fingertips. “You, on the other hand, would be serving as a tasty morsel for some Troll, if I had not carried you to safety. I have never met a more obstinate, reckless Dwarf in my entire life.”

“You are entirely mistaken about my intentions, as usual,” replied Ascilius, forgetting his anger and shaking his head sadly at Elerian’s lack of perception. “I was merely delaying the Trolls, giving everyone time to escape the hall. I would have left on my own in another moment or two had you exhibited a little patience.”

“Liar. If I had not stopped you, you would have rushed into the midst of the Trolls who would then have torn you into pieces,” insisted Elerian.

Ascilius started to sputter a response only to be interrupted by a deep voice. “Surely the two of you are the oddest pair of companions that I have ever seen in my long life,” said Durio sardonically.

“Strange, but brave to a fault,” chimed in Tonare who sat at his feet.

“I cannot deny the truth of that,” replied Durio to Tonare. “Their courage has saved the city, at least for now,” he admitted as he surveyed the closed doors to the hall. “The Goblins will break open the doors with their ram eventually, but first they must clear the outer hall of the rubble that now fills it. What should we do next, my lord?” he asked turning to Ascilius.

Ascilius blinked in surprise at the sudden turnabout in Durio’s attitude toward him.

“I have no authority here, Durio,” he said gloomily. “My uncle has told me to my face that he has no confidence in me.”

“You will find that the king’s opinion of you, like mine, has changed,” replied Durio, a humorous glint in his dark eyes. “Eonis has no one else to rely on now that Gavros has fallen.”

“He has you,” pointed out Ascilius.

“I have already refused command of the city,” replied Durio firmly. “I can fight with the best, but cunning as well as courage will be required to save us now. We have our differences of opinion, but you have shown yourself to be crafty as well as brave, Ascilius. I will follow you only, whether it pleases Eonis or not.”

“Let us organize a defense then,” said Ascilius quietly. Although his craggy face remained impassive, Elerian could tell that the Dwarf was touched by this sudden show of support from an old adversary. 

“At least some good has come from all this bloodshed,” thought Elerian to himself as he began to heal the wound on his temple, touching it lightly with the fingertips of his right hand before sending a healing spell into it. “It is about time that these thickheaded Dwarves begin to realize Ascilius’s true worth.”

He continued to sit quietly, absorbed in the healing process as Ascilius and Durio cleared the passageway of Dwarves. Wagons carrying stonemasons and loads of cut stone soon began to arrive in the tunnel, and a wall of neatly fitted blocks was quickly erected before the hall doors.

“If we had more time, we could harden the stone and make a proper barricade,” said Ascilius when he came over to stand by Elerian’s side.

“Our only real hope now lies in abandoning the city, not more barriers,” said Elerian quietly as he rose to his feet. The wound and the swelling on his temple had disappeared, healed by his spell. Before Ascilius before he could make any reply, a young Dwarf ran up to his side.

“My lord Ascilius, you are called into the king’s quarters,” he said breathlessly.

“Tell Eonis that I am on my way,” replied Ascilius wearily.

“Can you walk or must I have you carried?” asked Ascilius, turning to Elerian.

“I can walk, but I was not called to this audience,” replied Elerian. “I can remain with Falco until you return.”

“You will stay by my side,” said Ascilius firmly. “It was your spells which stayed the Goblins and kept them from overrunning the city. I will also need your advice. As Durio said, it will take a crafty mind to get us out of this situation, and yours is more cunning than most.”

“Is that a compliment or a criticism?” asked Elerian as he rose slowly to his feet. He still felt weak from his exertions but well able to walk.

“You may take it as you like,” said Ascilius with a sly gleam in his dark eyes. Leaving Falco and Durio behind to fill in the passageway and organize a defense, he hailed an empty wagon, directing the driver to take him and Elerian to the king’s quarters on the fourth level of the city.

“I hope our meeting with his uncle comes to a better outcome than the first one,” thought Elerian to himself as he sat beside Ascilius in the dusty bed of the wagon.

A CHANGE OF HEART

When Ascilius and Elerian arrived at Eonis’s sitting room, they found the old king seated in his chair, his eyes darting continually about the room as if he expected Goblins to spring out from beneath the furniture. A double bitted ax was clenched in his right hand instead of his staff, and he wore a gleaming shirt of mail instead of a tunic. Herias was there, too, but instead of mail, he wore a black hooded tunic of soft velvet and pants of the same material. Elerian was pleased to note that he sported an enormous lump on his forehead and a dark scowl on his pale face.

“Thank the heavens that you have come, nephew,” Eonis exclaimed animatedly when he saw Ascilius. His former animosity appeared to have entirely vanished, for there was no trace of rancor in his voice now. “The Umbrae have penetrated even into my private chamber, sending one of their deadly servants to slay Herias and me. Poor Herias, as you can see, suffered greatly before I was able to drive the creature off. We have found no trace of it since then, but it may still be lurking about, waiting to sink its venomous fangs into one of us.”

“What sort of sending was it uncle?” asked Ascilius with a frown on his face.

“It had the form of a great, horrid spider, larger than any that I have ever seen before, with poisonous ichor dripping from its fangs,” exclaimed Eonis anxiously. “The Goblins must have sent it in through one of the air vents.”

Ascilius’s frown deepened when a sidelong glance at Elerian revealed that he was carefully studying the ceiling, as if it had suddenly become a matter of great interest to him. His clear gray eyes shone in a way that Ascilius was all too familiar with and slight tremors shook his chest as if he had suddenly taken a chill.

“I would bet my beard that he has been up to some mischief,” thought Ascilius to himself, “but at least it was directed toward someone else for a change.”

“My world has been turned upside down, nephew,” continued Eonis, interrupting Ascilius’s speculations. “First I am attacked in my own chambers and then my front door is knocked down by the Umbrae. In all my long years, I have never heard of a Dwarf gate failing so quickly.”

“The art of Torquatus has grown since he took Calenus,” replied Ascilius grimly. “The ram the Goblins used to breech the gate today was charged with spells stronger than any that I have ever encountered before. I cannot guess where Torquatus obtained the large amount of argentum used in the device. He either scoured the whole of the Middle Realm to obtain it, or he has learned the secret of its making through bribery or torture.”

“What disturbs me more than the ram is how Torquatus persuaded Trolls to wield such a dangerous object,” replied Eonis in a baffled voice. “They have ever been Torquatus’s allies but never his slaves, throwing away their lives at his command.”

“They wore iron collars,” observed Elerian, who now appeared to have completed his study of the ceiling. “I have come to believe that anyone who wears such a device acts according to the Dark King's will and not his own. Although some of the Trolls wielding the ram perished, the rest did not seem affected by their deaths.”

“No gate will be able to stand before Torquatus then,” said Eonis in dismay. He looked at Ascilius with defeated eyes from beneath his snowy brows. “Even Iulius will fall, for it, too, is guarded by gates,” he said dispiritedly. “I may as well surrender to Torquatus now if he will agree to spare our people.”

“A wise thought, uncle,” said Herias, unable to keep a note of eagerness out of his voice. “I will carry your conditions to the enemy myself if you wish.”

“Surrender would not be prudent under any terms, for Torquatus would not honor any agreement that he made with us,” objected Ascilius. “I saw firsthand, uncle, how he treats Dwarves when I was a captive in his mines. The lives of our people would be neither easy nor pleasant under his rule.”

“The lowest classes may suffer a bit, but the nobility will be treated better, uncle,” suggested Herias in a sly voice. “He may even allow you to keep your treasure in return for your cooperation.”

For a moment the light that Ascilius had called arum vesania in the Broken Lands flared in Eonis’s dark eyes, but it quickly vanished to be replaced by a frown as the old king looked closely at Herias, as if seeing him for the first time.

“I love my gold, Herias, but I would not sacrifice even one of my people to keep it safe. It disturbs me to think that you would even suggest such a thing,” he said disapprovingly.

“Herias has overreached himself in his eagerness, revealing a side of himself that he ought to have kept hidden,” thought Elerian to himself as a furtive, trapped look appeared in the Dwarf’s cold, ebon eyes. Before Herias could stammer an excuse, Eonis turned to Ascilius.

“What do you suggest that I do, nephew?”

“Elerian has gained us time by blocking the doors to the entry hall,” replied Ascilius forcefully. “Let us use that time to evacuate the city. If we can reach Iulius, we may find safety there in the last and mightiest of our kingdoms.”

 “But not forever,” said Eonis dispiritedly. “Even if we could somehow fight our way out past the dike by the back gate, Iulius is sure to be attacked once we abandon Galenus. At best, we will delay the dark day that is coming for our people. If there is no hope of finding a safer place then I think I would rather die here, defending my own city.”

“I would rather die with hope in my heart, not despair,” said Ascilius trying hard to control his impatience. “We must abandon Galenus, uncle, for there is no chance of a good outcome for our people here.”

Eonis gave Ascilius a long, searching look with his old, dark eyes. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he finally gave in.

“It is hard to be cast out of my home in my old age,” he said, sighing deeply. “Five hundred and twenty years have I dwelt here in this city, but if you can concoct a plan that will enable us to leave here, then I suppose we must at least attempt to execute it.”

“Elerian has already come up with a clever scheme to circumvent the barrier by the back gate,” replied Ascilius, clapping Elerian heavily on the left shoulder with his right hand to make sure that he kept quiet. Elerian staggered under the weighty gesture which was just as well, for he was having a difficult time keeping his face expressionless after hearing Ascilius’s surprising announcement. 

“Is this true?” asked Eonis, looking doubtfully at Elerian.

“Of course it is true,” said Ascilius in a hearty voice as he slapped Elerian strongly on the shoulder a second time. “Elerian possesses a boundless cunning. I promise you that with his help we will win through to Iulius.”

“That remains to be seen,” replied Eonis heavily, “but, having given my word, I will now keep it. We will abandon the city, Ascilius, but you must lead the people in this dangerous endeavor, for I have grown too old for such a task and my sons are too young. Durio will help you. He is old, too, but wise in the ways of war.”

“Have you finally grown to trust me, then?” Ascilius could not help asking his uncle.

“My opinion of you has not changed, nephew,” replied Eonis testily, some of his old animosity toward Ascilius flaring again in his old eyes. “It is necessity alone which forces me to rely on you now, for I have no one else who can take Gavros’s place. If you would gain my trust, then you must earn it.”

“Fair enough,” replied Ascilius. “I will ask you that question again when we reach Iulius, uncle.”

“If we reach Iulius,” said Herias softly, his voice full of malice and doubt.” Ignoring Herias, Eonis turned to one of his attendants who was standing nearby and spoke.

“Quincius, let the word be given to all the people in the city that we are abandoning Galenus and that Ascilius will lead the evacuation.”

“How much time do we have before we must depart, Ascilius?” he asked somberly after his steward hurried from the room.

“Several days at least, uncle,” replied Ascilius. “The Goblins will not clear the outer hall of fallen rock anytime soon. To delay them even more, I have also set stonemasons to filling in the passageway behind the hall doors. We must move in haste, but there is no reason to panic.”

“Go then,” said Eonis somberly. “Order matters as you think proper, Ascilius.”

Bowing his white head, Eonis turned away, staring gloomily at the bright fire burning in his hearth. The flames playing over his craggy features revealed the state of his mind, for a mix of melancholy, bewilderment, and sullenness was clearly visible in his face. In that moment, he looked less like a king to Elerian and more like an old Dwarf burdened beyond endurance by age and misfortune, an object of pity for all his cantankerous nature.

“Let us be about our business, Elerian,” said Ascilius as he dragged Elerian from the chamber, his powerful right hand gripping his companion’s left arm.

“How could you lie to that poor old fellow, telling him that I have a plan to evacuate the city?” asked Elerian disapprovingly when they were out of earshot of Eonis and Herias.

“I spoke no lie!” replied Ascilius, feigning distress at the accusation. “You told me yourself that you had a way to make use of the hidden tunnel by the back gate.”

“That plan included only my own escape,” Elerian pointed out dryly.

“Well now it will include the populace of the city, too,” replied Ascilius in a hearty voice. “Judging from past experience, I am sure that your wily mind can change a few details to enable everyone to flee the city.”

“If we led a small force through the tunnel door, I suppose that I could hide them with an illusion, at least for a short time,” replied Elerian thoughtfully. “Such magic is weak and does not require much power.”

“Excellent idea!” exclaimed Ascilius eagerly. “With the element of surprise on our side, we should be able to drive the sentries off the dike. We need hold it only long enough for reinforcements to reach us from the city.”

“But how will they reach the top of the earthworks?” asked Elerian, recalling the trench and the other obstacles that protected the dike. 

“Ladders will bridge the trench if they are leaned against the face of the barrier, for it looked to be only about thirty feet high,” replied Ascilius confidently. “If you sheer away some of the palisade at the top of the dike with Acris, we can assemble enough Dwarves on its summit to launch an attack on the Goblin camp. With the weight of all the warriors in the city behind us, we should be able to put them to flight.”

“A risky plan,” ventured Elerian, remembering the size of the enemy army camped behind the dike.

“It will work,” insisted Ascilius. “Come,” he said eagerly. “Let us get something to eat and plan further what we must do.”

For the next two days, Ascilius and Elerian carefully planned their assault on the Goblin camp while the Dwarves of Galenus prepared to leave their city. Food, weapons, and the few personal belongings they were taking with them were loaded into wagons. Their treasures were carried to hidden rooms deep in the roots of the mountain where they were sealed away behind hidden doors. Everything else was being left behind and would likely be stolen or destroyed by the Goblins. The tunnels, the stone trees, the many fountains and all the other things that the Dwarves had wrought with patient skill over the centuries would endure, however, for they were made from magically hardened stone. The Goblins might be able to deface these things or spread filth over them, but they could not be destroyed without a tremendous outlay of magic. If ever the Dwarves of Galenus managed to return to their city, they would find it mostly intact with gold at hand in the treasure rooms to restore it to its former glory.

“We dare not wait any longer,” said Ascilius to Elerian on the morning of the third day as they stood in the entrance of the passageway that ran from the city to the entry hall before the main gates. Around them, numerous Dwarves were filling in the last few feet of the tunnel with stone blocks. From the other side of the barrier, the ring of hammers on chisels and the scrape of shovels against stone were faintly audible to both Elerian and Ascilius.

“The time has come for us to leave the city, for the Goblins will break through this last bit of stone before the day is over,” said Ascilius gravely to Elerian. “I have already given the order for everyone to gather before the back gate. Today we will either triumph or fall into a dark defeat from which we may never rise again.”

“Let us be off then to discover our fate,” replied Elerian cheerfully, his clear gray eyes shining fearlessly in the mage lights that lit the passageway.

Ascilius immediately ordered the stonemasons to leave off their work and to set out at once for the back gate. When everyone had left, he and Elerian followed along behind, for they already had their packs and weapons with them. As they walked alone through the silent, empty second level of the city, Ascilius suddenly spoke in a low, grim voice full of doubts that he had kept carefully concealed up to now.

“Once again we roll the dice against high odds, Elerian. I wonder if fortune will favor us once more.”

“If we do not falter, I think it will be a ruinous day for the Goblins and their allies,” said Elerian encouragingly, for he was well used to his companion’s mercurial nature by now. Once the battle was joined, he knew that Ascilius would be consumed by battle lust and forget all his misgivings.

“I wonder that you can be so calm,” replied Ascilius. “Have you seen something of the future that gives you hope?”