The Fall of Dorkhun (2 page)

“Look, I don’t want trouble,” he said, stammering.

“You’re not worth my time, farm boy. Go on back to your hogs.”

“What makes you think I raise hogs?”

“Cause you stink.”

“I’m as clean as you are.”

“I bet your whole family stinks like pig filth.”

The dwarf’s friends laughed and slapped him on his shoulders at the joke, but Ogdu went from scared to angry. His family had always been good stewards of their lands, well-respected members of the community, and with his father gone, he didn’t like this half-wit tarnishing their name in public. His fingers wrapped around the axe and he faced the dwarf.

“Take it back!” he said.

“Draw that axe, farm boy, and it’ll be your last act.”

“Take it back!”

“Alright, alright. I didn’t mean to insult your whole family. It’s probably just you that stinks.”

Ogdu pulled the axe, but as it cleared the loop of his belt, the large dwarf moved with speed that defied his enormous size. With one thunderous strike, he hit Ogdu in the forearm, and blinding pain shot through the young dwarf as both bones snapped like kindling. The sound was sickening, and before he could recover, the white beard grabbed an axe and sunk it deep in his belly.

Ogdu stared down at the handle, thinking that the wound didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should. Then, his legs gave way, and he fell to the floor, landing on his broken arm. He tried to scream from the agony, but no sound would come. Above him, there was tremendous commotion, but he couldn’t see what was happening, for his eyesight had gone, and then he slipped into silence.

***

As soon as he heard the shouting, Teshjin, Constable of Kondelious, rushed down the street and into the Red Ruby Tavern. He had lived in this town for a few years but was a Tredjard from the southern mountains, and having grown up near orc territories, he had seen more death and violence than he cared to remember. Because of his upbringing, his combat skills were unmatched in the deep, but as the scene in the tavern came into view, even he was shocked.

On the floor, several Kiredurks lay crumpled, some dead, others injured. Standing over them, a lone dwarf, splattered with blood and crazed with battle lust, dared anyone to approach. His deep voice reverberated over the stunned quiet of the crowd, and Teshjin moved to the edge of the group to face the brute, whom he now recognized as the nephew of Sondious, former Special Advisor to the Governor of the Deep Region and current Assistant to the Council of Dorkhun.

“You’ve proven enough,” he said, showing the Kiredurk his palms. “Let’s you and me go for a walk.”

“You can’t take me,” the nephew returned, clenching his fists.

“I don’t want to fight you, son.”

“So walk away.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Then bring it!”

With that, the Kiredurk charged. In one fluid motion, Teshjin drew his short club and sidestepped the rush. As the dwarf went by, he hit the nephew squarely in the back of the head. The thud was loud and nauseating. Teshjin waited for the white beard to collapse, but instead, he turned and smiled.

“That your best?”

This time, Teshjin made the first move, stepping forward and striking with the club. The Kiredurk blocked the blow, knocking the club from his hand, and grabbed him in a bear hug. The dwarf’s strength was unnatural, and the Tredjard’s ribs were beginning to crack. With all the strength he could muster, he jabbed the Kiredurk in the throat with his thumb, and the nephew released the bear hug and staggered backwards. The opening gave Teshjin the chance he needed, and he snatched the Kiredurk’s left wrist with both hands. With his right hand, he pinned the nephew’s thumb against his own forearm. Teshjin then used his left hand to drive the Kiredurk’s arm behind his back, pushing up and causing him to groan. Within moments, the Kiredurk was prone on the ground, begging the Tredjard to stop breaking his arm and wrist.

“Come over here,” Teshjin shouted at the nearest onlooker.

The terrified dwarf obeyed, and Teshjin barked for her to take a pair of shackles from the pouch around his waist and fasten the nephew’s legs. She fumbled with the latches but completed the task after a couple of tries. Then, Teshjin had her take a second pair and bind the nephew’s wrists. Again, her hands shook as she worked the mechanism, but within a few seconds, the crazed dwarf was fully restrained. The crowd, which had remained as still and quiet as the deepest tunnel during the fight, erupted in applause and cheering.

“Quit standing around like idiots and get help!” Teshjin yelled, motioning at the fallen dwarves. Then, to the nephew he growled, “Get on your feet.”

The Kiredurks obeyed, the crowd scattering to find healers and relatives and the nephew struggling to stand in the shackles. Teshjin found his club and returned it to his belt, and then, he looked at the dead dwarves. All were young, too young to have met their ends on the floor of a dirty tavern. What a miserable waste, he thought.

***

One week later, Teshjin was in front of the magistrate, testifying as to what he had encountered. The barkeep and several others had already recounted their stories, and with each description, it became clear that, while the young farmer had drawn his axe, the nephew, a well-known bully and troublemaker, had goaded the boy into the fight. As such, the magistrate would not allow a plea of self-defense, and the nephew was charged with six acts of murder and seven more of assault.

Teshjin spoke clearly and succinctly, not allowing emotion to taint his testimony. The magistrate listened intently and jotted notes the entire time. The nephew sat across the room, guarded by several members of the local militia, and stared at the constable with a blank, cold expression. Teshjin maintained eye contact with the young killer throughout, hoping to see some glimmer of remorse.

“Thank you for speaking here, today,” the magistrate said when he finished. “And let me add that you are truly a hero of this region. We are fortunate to have you watching over us.”

“Thank you, but I just did my job,” Teshjin said, stepping away from the witness box.

“As for you,” the magistrate continued, shifting his attention to the nephew. “You disgust me. How many times have you sat here in front of me, and how many times have I begged you to change your ways? You had everything within your grasp. Your uncle is a very important person in Dorkhun, and you could have done so much good with your life.

“Instead, you murdered an innocent boy, and more than that, you’ve left his mother with nothing. What really disgusts me is that I can see in your face you don’t care at all. I’m recommending to the king that you be executed. Guards, take him back to his cell to await transport to Dorkhun.”

The nephew’s expression never changed. As the guards led the nephew away, Teshjin approached the magistrate.

“Sir, I want to assist in his transfer.”

“Why, Constable?”

“No offense to your soldiers, but they’re no match for this one. He’s a killer. To the core.”

“I see your point,” the magistrate returned, extending his hand. “I’ll grant you temporary supervision over the detail, and I’ll also speak to each guard personally so they understand you are in charge.”

“I’ll make sure he gets to Dorkhun and faces justice,” Teshjin said, shaking the magistrate’s hand.

“I’m glad you’re on our side,” the magistrate said. “It’s a shame he threw away his life like this.”

***

Two weeks later, Teshjin was in Dorkhun at the Halls of Gronwheil. The council assembly chamber was the most beautifully crafted room he had ever seen. The gray marble floor was so polished he could see his reflection, and the tapestries on the walls, each depicting a moment in Kiredurkian history, were more ornate and detailed works of art than he had imagined possible. He didn’t know enough of the history to know the actual stories, but the craftsmanship impressed him. As a Tredjard, he often thought the Kiredurks an inferior species because of their lack of fighting skills, but in this room, he realized that, while Tredjards had been forced to use all of their ingenuity and resources on warfare, these dwarves had been allowed to focus on more refined pursuits. For a moment, he saw that if the Kiredurks had been engaged in perpetual war for as long as his people, they too would be as accomplished with their blades.

On one side of the room, the king and the council sat behind a crescent-shaped row of stone tables. To Teshjin, the king, though fairly young, seemed wise and just. The council members were all much older and seemed to be more scholarly than wise, as if their knowledge came more from books than experience. To a battle-hardened Tredjard, this was the worst form of weakness. In the center of the room, shackled and bound in heavy irons, the accused faced them. His uncle, a thin and delicate Kiredurk whose countenance resembled the council members, sat beside him and served as his counsel. The only others in the room were Teshjin and the rest of the soldiers who had transported the criminal to the capital. The king read aloud the charges and the evidence report, both of which had been prepared by the magistrate of Kondelious, and when he finished, he asked Sondious to respond.

“My king,” the thin dwarf began, standing and briefly bowing his head. “My presence should not be mistaken as condoning my nephew’s actions. What he did is inexcusable. My only purpose at this preceding is to request that instead of execution he be banished.”

A moment of silence followed, and as Teshjin studied the king’s face, he felt admiration for the Kiredurk.

“Assistant Sondious,” the king finally responded. “You are well-respected by all in this room. You have served dutifully at every post you have held. Because of your standing, I’ll allow the council to vote on this matter, but before we do, I have a couple of questions for your nephew.”

“Thank you, my king,” Sondious said, motioning for the accused to stand.

“How many times have you been sent before us?” Kraganere asked.

“This is the fifth.”

“What were the previous charges?”

“Once for vandalism, twice for civic unrest, and once for disobedience.”

“And now murder and assault?”

“Yes,” the young dwarf returned, hanging his head.

“You are a Kiredurk of the Deep Region,” Kraganere said, his voice grave. “Given your uncle’s standing, you should be a leader in your community, not a cancer. While execution would fit this particular crime, I believe living in exile above ground is a far worse punishment for someone from the deep. That is my recommendation and my vote.”

Each member of the council agreed and voted with the king. Sondious thanked them for sparing his nephew’s life and then, without speaking to the disgraced young dwarf, left the chamber.

“Constable Teshjin, please come forward,” the king requested. The Tredjard crossed the room and stood in front of the king. “I personally request that you continue your service and escort this exile to the land of outcasts. Will you accept?”

“I’m honored.”

“Good. You may leave as soon as you have provisions for your men.”

On his trip from the southern mountains to the Kiredurk kingdom, Teshjin had traveled along the surface, so for him the trip to the eastern gate and down the mountain was nothing special. For the rest of the detail, it was their only opportunity to see above ground. Dwarves of the deep rarely travel out of their own region, and few ever set eyes on the sun, so for them, being part of this group raised their social standing and provided them a story they could pass down to their children and grandchildren. When they finally reached the border of Rugraknere, Teshjin stopped the group still inside the Kiredurk kingdom and then led the exile a few yards into the land of outcasts.

“You have two days’ rations, and I’ll leave the key for these shackles back at the border signpost.”

“Please, end my life now,” the nephew said, his eyes to the ground. “Don’t leave me up here like this.”

“That’s not my job.” Teshjin turned to walk away.

“I’m begging you.”

Teshjin stopped and looked back at the nephew. The young dwarf was as strong and agile as any Teshjin had met. Had he been born a Tredjard, he would have been a great warrior, highly decorated and revered. But as it were, he was a misfit among the Kiredurks. For a moment, Teshjin pitied him.

“Find your purpose,” Teshjin said.

“What?”

“We all have a purpose in this life. What’s yours?”

“I don’t get it.”

“Maybe one day you will.”

With that, Teshjin turned away for good and started back home. As he passed the signpost, he dropped the keys on the ground. The detail walked for nearly three weeks to get back to Kondelious, and when they arrived, they were greeted as heroes. Teshjin continued as constable for many years, keeping the peace and protecting the town. He lived out his life as a local celebrity, known to all in the region as the dwarf that bested the Butcher of the Deep.

Chapter 2

Nearing the River

The wagon thundered down the bumpy road, and Torkdohn drove the horses without mercy. Jase sat sideways in his seat, holding the buckboard and watching Molgheon in the cage. Even though they were separated by thick iron bars, he was terrified and wouldn’t get within arm’s reach. Molgheon sat as still as she could with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her shins. This position kept her from bouncing too much and allowed her to study the structure of the cage. It had been forged by Kiredurk outcasts, few of whom were master blacksmiths, and while the iron itself was sound, the design and construction of the hinges had major flaws.