The Fall of Dorkhun (5 page)

The chamber he sat in was nothing like the council room in Dorkhun. The table was a modest stone slab, large enough for eight dwarves at most, and the chairs, while well-crafted and cushioned, were purely functional. No decorations or ornaments adorned the walls. After months of spending twelve to sixteen hours a day in here, Master Sondious ached to see again the splendor of the Hall of Gronwheil.

Across the room, the king was lost in his own thoughts. Since Captain Roighwheil had brought news that Roskin had possibly been spotted in the realm of the outcasts, Kraganere had been useless during strategy sessions. Master Sondious had planned the tunnel attack alone, and it had worked flawlessly, destroying the mouth of the excavation and trapping inside at least three dozen ogres. If it had been left up to the king, the ogres would have already burrowed into the kingdom and overrun the defenses. Although he hadn’t spoken the thought, Master Sondious had begun to doubt the king’s ability to rule.

Now, he was left alone again to plan this battle, and while he had grown to enjoy developing the attacks, he didn’t like feeling unappreciated. Ever since his capture by and subsequent rescue from the ogres, Master Sondious felt that Kraganere no longer valued his service, as if somehow it were Master Sondious’s fault the kingdom were at war. Kraganere had said more than once that Master Sondious acted too aggressively and with too much venom, but Kraganere had not seen the savagery of the ogres firsthand. He was not the one who had been crippled by having his legs crushed by an ogre’s club, and he was not the one who had lain alone in snow for two days with no food or water. If Master Sondious did develop vicious battle tactics, it was only because he knew the darkness of the ogres’ hearts. And now, with this news of the heir, the king had even proposed that they postpone attacks and offer a truce. The very idea was preposterous.

Suddenly, outside the room, a great commotion arose, and he and the king looked at each other and then at the door. In a moment, Captain Roighwheil entered the chamber, a smile across his face, and bowed to the two. The king rose from his seat, and Master Sondious called for his assistant to help with his chair.

“What is this?” the king asked, his voice stern.

“Sir, sorry to interrupt…”

“We’ve grown accustomed to it,” Master Sondious muttered.

“But there’s a visitor to see you,” the captain continued, ignoring him.

With that he excused himself, backing out the doorway. A second later, a figure entered. He was taller than most dwarves but too short for a human, and his frame was thin and wiry. His left ear was mangled, his cheeks were sunken, and his beard was matted. His clothes were filthy, stained with splotches of mud and blood. His eyes flashed danger, making him the most wretched renegade Master Sondious had ever seen, and for several moments, the special advisor to the king had no idea who it was.

“Roskin?” the king half-exclaimed, half-asked.

“Hello, sir.”

Master Sondious’s mouth fell open, and he studied the figure, trying to find a familiar feature. The heir had left the picture of health and royalty, his skin smooth and soft, his mannerisms spoiled and pampered, his eyes naïve and youthful. This dwarf had none of that.

The king rushed across the room and embraced his son, sobbing audibly, a cross between ecstasy and despair. Roskin returned the embrace and cried, too. Master Sondious sat quietly. Though he couldn’t fully comprehend the moment, he respected how the king had missed his oldest child.

“I thought I had lost you,” the king said, leaning back but still holding Roskin’s shoulders.

“Me too, sir.”

“They said the ogres sold you to the orcs.”

“No, the ogres had nothing to do with it. I was captured by a Ghaldeon slave trader.”

“Captain Roighwheil,” the king called. Still smiling, the captain stepped back into the room. “Send a message to the ogres that we request a temporary truce.”

“You can’t do that!” Master Sondious yelled.

“My friend,” the king responded, his voice lowering in authority. “There’s no reason to continue this war.”

“If you surrender to them, you dishonor those who’ve fallen.”

“Master Sondious, we’re not surrendering. We’ve held our gate.”

“This war is my fault,” Roskin said, his voice cracking. “No one else needs to die.”

“They need to pay!” Master Sondious’s eyes widened with rage.

“That’s enough, Master Sondious,” the king said, gritting his teeth. “I have spoken.”

The king turned back to his captain and repeated the order. The captain saluted and hurried from the chamber. Kraganere called for his attendant and motioned for Roskin to sit. Roskin adjusted the sword at his waist and settled onto the chair.

“You look terrible, son,” the king said, taking his seat.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Roskin, please, call me dad.”

“What can I get for you, my lord?” the attendant asked Roskin.

“Just some water. But will you check with my friends, too?”

The attendant excused himself, and Roskin turned to Master Sondious.

“It’s good to see you,” he said.

“It’s wonderful news that you’re safe,” Master Sondious returned, still fuming over the king’s reprimand.

“Son, please, tell me what happened.”

Roskin started into the story, beginning with his plans of finding Evil Blade. Master Sondious listened intently, leaning in as close as his chair would allow. The attendant returned with a pitcher of water and three tankards, and as Roskin resumed, the king interrupted several times, asking for more details about Roskin’s time with the outcasts and the ogres. When Roskin reached the point of arriving at the Slithsythe Plantation, he stopped, his voice catching in his throat.

“I can’t talk about that place,” he managed.

“It’s okay, Roskin,” Kraganere said, reaching over and touching his shoulder.

The heir composed himself and continued, explaining how Evil Blade, Vishghu, and Molgheon liberated the slaves and overran the orcs. Then, he described the Battle for Hard Hope, how Evil Blade lured the orcs into the narrow strip of land to even the odds, how Roskin had fought with Leinjar at the rear to cut off the orcs’ retreat.

“Most of my life, I’ve heard horror stories about Evil Blade, but he sounds like someone I’d like to meet,” the king said.

“Yes,” Master Sondious agreed. “He sounds nothing like the ogres describe.”

“He’s not.”

“Maybe we can bring him to Dorkhun to honor him for rescuing you.”

“There are others, too. Vishghu did as much as anyone for me. She deserves to be recognized.”

“Under the circumstances, I’m not sure we could invite an ogre into the kingdom for some time.”

“If ever,” Master Sondious added.

Roskin leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling. For a moment, Master Sondious saw a glimmer of the Roskin who had left a little over a year before, but as quickly as it came, the glimmer faded. The special advisor could see the pain in the young dwarf’s eyes, a deep wound that could never fully heal. He wanted to tell him that he too understood that kind of suffering. He wanted to tell him about his own ordeal; how he had believed himself already dead; how his legs ached every moment of every day; how he woke most nights from the same nightmare. He knew Roskin would understand in a way the king couldn’t, and more than anything else, he needed to share it with someone who had been through something similar.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Roskin said, rising from his seat.

The heir went to the door and called to his friends. Then, he returned to the table and stood near his father and the special advisor. In a moment, a new figure came through the doorway. This dwarf was also very thin but in a more toned, muscular way. His left arm was missing from just below the elbow, but he carried himself with grace and dignity. Master Sondious immediately recognized him as the great nephew of the lost Ghaldeon king. When Bordorn had been a youth in exile in Dorkhun, Master Sondious, who then was only an assistant to the council, had served as his tutor, teaching him about government and politics. As well as Master Sondious could remember, Bordorn had been an excellent student, and the two had been fond of each other.

Then, a Kiredurk entered the room, a thickly muscled and imposing dwarf whose very walk warned of trouble. His white beard was braided in two long strands, and his cheeks were damaged from too much sun exposure. Even though it had been many years since Master Sondious had seen him, he recognized his nephew immediately, and he wanted to embrace his kin but hoped the king didn’t recognize him, too.

“You remember Bordorn,” Roskin said to the king.

“Yes,” Kraganere responded, rising and shaking hands with Bordorn. He hadn’t yet looked at Master Sondious’s nephew.

“And this is Krondious,” Roskin continued, gesturing at the white beard.

“You,” Kraganere said, stepping back, his face tightening. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“He is…” Roskin began, but the king cut him off.

“I know who he is. The Butcher of the Deep! Guards!”

Several well-armed Kiredurks rushed into the room, axes drawn. Krondious turned to face them, reaching for his own weapon, but Roskin jumped between the guards and the nephew. Bordorn stood frozen, and Master Sondious’s assistant pulled his chair as far back as it would go.

“Call them off!” Roskin screamed.

“Get out of the way!” Kraganere yelled back.

Krondious got his axe from its loop and drew back, but Roskin grabbed his arm just under the elbow and held him.

“Krondious, stand down!” Roskin shouted, struggling to keep his grip on the nephew’s powerful arm.

Krondious suddenly relaxed, focusing on Roskin’s face. In a lower tone, Roskin repeated the order, and Krondious lowered his axe. In all his years, Master Sondious had never seen anyone control his nephew that way.

“He’s with me,” Roskin said to the king. “Call them off.”

“I can’t do that, son.”

“He saved my life.”

“He’s a villain and an exile. Guards, shackle him.”

“No!” Roskin screamed.

The guards circled them, and two readied sets of shackles, one for his arms and the other for his legs. Krondious stood still as stone, not resisting.

“Don’t hurt him,” Roskin barked.

The guards attached the shackles, and the king moved over and grabbed Roskin. He pulled his son from the throng and pushed him against the wall.

“Don’t fight them, Krondious,” Roskin called. “I’ll get you out of this.”

Krondious nodded his understanding and let the guards put his arms behind his back and connect the bindings. Once he was bound, the king ordered them to take him to a holding room down the hall. One guard pushed Krondious in the back to force him forward, and the nephew stumbled from the tightness of the chain between his ankles. The guard drew back to strike him, but Roskin broke the king’s grasp and rushed the guard.

“If you touch him, I’ll tear you apart,” Roskin threatened, his voice reverberating off the walls.

The guard jumped back, his eyes wide.

“Don’t hurt him,” the king said. “Just get him to the room. Roskin, sit down!”

The heir turned to his father and glared at him, not the look of spoiled nobility who hasn’t gotten his way as before. This look was different. It was mature, wise, and pained. Roskin stood still for several moments, and the king stared back, his expression torn between the love for his son and his duty as king.

“He knew the penalty for returning,” the king spoke at last.

“I brought him here. I needed soldiers in Rugraknere, so I offered a full pardon to any who would fight beside me.”

“He’s the Butcher of the Deep, Roskin. He killed six dwarves in a drunken rage, injured several more. I only spared his life out of respect for Master Sondious.”

“He swore his life to mine,” Roskin said, stepping closer and clenching his jaw. “He’s not that person anymore.”

“For what it’s worth, your highness,” Bordorn finally spoke. “He did save our lives, and he did swear an oath to Pepper Beard.”

The king sighed and asked Master Sondious what he thought.

“I’ve never defended my nephew’s actions. He shamed our family’s name.”

“He’s different, now,” Roskin pleaded. “He defended me when none of the other exiles wanted to. He respected you for your fairness. He risked his life to help me.”

“I will consider all that,” the king said, slumping in his chair. “You must be exhausted. Go get fresh clothes and a good meal. We’ll discuss this later.”

“Yes, sir,” Roskin hissed, turning for the door.

Once Roskin and Bordorn were gone, Master Sondious told his assistant to push him back to the table. Though the king had called for a truce, he didn’t believe the ogres would honor it, so he wanted to finish his plans to defend the destroyed tunnel. Kraganere looked at him as he picked up a map.

“The war is over,” the king said, his tone low and serious.

“Of course, but just in case they don’t accept your terms, I think we should be prepared.”