The Wealth of Kings (8 page)

“You’ll watch my back?” Trynt huffed as he spied Rikker standing over him with a pickaxe in hand. The point was lightly resting on Trynt’s chest. There had been no talon. There had been no beast.

Rikker shrugged. “Can’t help it,” he said. “It’s tradition.”

“Besides,” Haggart cut in. “You fell behind. You didn’t think I would let you get away with it did you?”

Trynt pushed away from them and up to his feet. “Not funny,” he said.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Haggart said. “No one has seen any beasts down here. They are just rumors and stories to tell around the fire.”

Trynt brushed himself off and shook his head. No sooner had he bent down to brush the front of his pants than the lantern went out again. Another burst of cool air rushed around him as something snarled in the darkness.

“I’m not falling for it,” Trynt said as he stood up. He crossed his arms, furious that they would continue the prank. Then, something wet and warm splattered onto his face. “Cut it out!” Trynt yelled. His eyes finished adjusting in that moment and he saw Haggart standing right where he had been. However, the lantern was no longer in his right hand. In fact, Trynt wasn’t sure he even saw Haggart’s right arm at all.

A whimper sounded in the dark and something streaked behind Haggart.

Then the crew leader fell to the ground.

Trynt couldn’t help but jump.

“Watch out!” Jasper shouted.

Trynt turned just as something leapt up from the ground and ripped the miner’s head clean off his neck. Jasper’s body fell forward and Trynt caught what was left of Jasper.

A scraping sound scratched along the stone floor.

Rikker pulled a hatchet and swung through the air, yelling ferociously. “It’s true!” he said as he swung in all directions around himself. “The legends are true!”

Trynt cried out as a strange form seemed to lunge out from the wall and grabbed Rikker. Trynt heard squishing flesh and cracking bones as the explosives engineer was taken.

Del rushed in and pulled Trynt out from under Jasper’s body. “Come on, we have to get out of here!” Del hooked his arm under Trynt’s left armpit and pulled him along.

The two ran, but they didn’t make it very far.

Something seized Del and the miner called out in agony. Trynt tried to pull on Del’s arm and wrench him away from their stalker. A terrible growl sounded in the darkness. Then, Trynt heard a
pop!
Del’s arm came free, but only the dwarf’s arm.

Trynt screamed and dropped the limb as he continued to run.

He didn’t hear feet pounding the ground as he had when the other dwarves had been teasing him. This time the cave was silent. Trynt could only hope that whatever the thing was, it had been sated by taking the others.

For the longest time, he heard nothing. His legs burned from the exertion, but his fear would not let the dwarf’s feet stop.

Then, he felt that eerie rush of cold wind from deep within the tunnel. The faint sound of scratching on the stone barely reached his ears.

Trynt redoubled his efforts, ignoring the knot in his large stomach and sprinting up the sharp incline.

A low growl rumbled through the cave. The scratching sounded closer.

“No!” Trynt whispered to himself as he thought of his wife. He was going to make it home. He was going to see his wife again. He would tell the guards about the attack and then King Sylus would eradicate the monster with the cavedog riders.

Trynt was not going to die. Not here. Not like this.

The sharp scratches grew closer, tearing along the stone floor as the stalker closed in.

Trynt’s lungs burned beyond anything he had ever experienced before.

His mind threw doubt at him.

It had taken the group of dwarves hours to walk this deep into the mines. There was no one close by to help. Could he really run all the way back?

No!
Trynt said within his mind. He forced out the doubt and replaced it with the image of his loving wife’s face. They had been married only two years. They had many hundred years left to enjoy. He couldn’t leave her now.

The scratching stopped.

Trynt thought perhaps the beast had given up pursuit, but he didn’t dare slow down to look. He was determined not to die in the tunnels.

Something black sailed along the ceiling over him, drawing Trynt’s eyes up.

It stopped just a few yards in front of Trynt and dropped from the ceiling.

Trynt’s eyes shot open wide and his mouth fell.

A gleaming, white claw slashed out from the thing and Trynt felt himself flying through the air. He tumbled to the ground, scraping along the stone until his body came to a stop. He was face down, mouth full of dust and body aching. His head rang sharply. He pushed up with his hands, purely surviving on will at this point. His lower back burned, but he couldn’t feel his feet or legs.

My back!
Trynt thought to himself,
Please don’t be broken. I didn’t hit the ground that hard.
He pushed up enough to turn around. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

His legs and waist were lying several yards back in the tunnel. The great, shadowy monster was moving toward them. It reached out and picked up the severed legs, devouring them whole, clothes and all.

Then it turned to face Trynt. The ghastly, glowing yellow eyes drained what remained of Trynt’s will. The dwarf gave up the ghost as the monster closed in.

Year 3,711 Age of Demigods, Summer.

2
nd
year of the reign of Aldehenkaru’hktanah Sit’marihu, 13
th
King of Roegudok Hall.

Al placed his hand on the cold, iron door and pushed it open. His nostrils pulled in musty, damp air as he stepped into the well room. Four sconces, all placed evenly around the chamber, sparkled vibrantly as they lent their light to the area.

Alferug stood at the edge of the well, on the opposite side of the room from the entrance, looking down.

Al pushed the door closed behind himself and then walked to the well. He looked into it and whistled through his teeth. His eyes traced the large, copper pipes leading out from the side of the well and disappearing into the right hand wall.

“Normally, the water level in the well would exceed the height of the pipes, and the well would pump endless water through for our culinary use,” Alferug said from the opposite side of the well.

Al nodded. He had been here before, with his father, many decades earlier, and seen the well working in its full glory. At that time, the clear, cool spring pushed up to rest just inches below the rim of the well, and the pipes could barely pull enough of the liquid out to keep the well from overflowing.

It was not so today.

Al placed his hands on the smooth stone rim of the well and leaned over to peer down inside. There was no water that he could see. “Did something shift inside the mountain?” Al asked. “It seems strange that this spring would run dry when it has lasted for thousands of years.”

Alferug placed a book on his side of the well’s rim. “I was reading about this subject. I won’t go over all of the details, but it appears that this spring is not the first of its kind. Apparently, it was discovered during King Sylus’ reign, after he expanded some of the mines below.”

“Artesian wells require pressure to drive the water up. How could expanding mine shafts below increase pressure? Shouldn’t it have had the opposite effect?”

Alferug held up a hand. “I have found some vague references to something the Ancients called Maaginen or Mystinen, depending on which historian you read. Apparently, it is a type of energy that exists below the mountain. Mining can at times shift it, and the presence, or absence, of this force can be measured in two ways.”

“What is that?” Al asked.

“The sudden appearance of new wells, as the Mystinen drives water from aquafers and bores holes for it to escape. The other evidence is the sudden disappearance of wells, but to ensure the disappearance is due only to the Mystinen, then there must be another sign present.”

“What other sign?” Al asked.

Alferug motioned for the king to join him on the other side of the well.

Al walked around the outer edge of the well and stopped as he came around Alferug’s side.

A strange plant grew out the side of the well. Its stems were stiff like bones, and it had round, thin leaves hanging from smaller branches.

“Is that the bloodgrass mentioned by Sylus?” Al asked breathlessly.

Alferug nodded. “It took me some time to identify it for sure. So, I waited to call for you until I knew I was correct.”

Al nodded and moved in close to the plant. He bent down and took one of the brittle leaves in his fingers. It cracked and crumbled instantly. “It’s a very fragile plant, isn’t it?”

Alferug nodded. “If we could find Sylus’ book, then I might know a bit more about it, but I have at least found enough evidence to be sure what it is. In
Hermek’s Herbal
there is a drawing that fits this plant, but other than the name, there is no information.”

“
Hermek’s Herbal
, wasn’t that also written in Sylus’ time?” Al asked as he smoothed his beard.

Alferug shook his head. “No, it was before Sylus. Hermek did most of his research during the second king’s reign. I am not sure if the lack of information comes from the plant’s rarity, or if it was perhaps thought dangerous to experiment with. Either way, he is the only one who refers to it by name, and has a drawing to accompany it. Other Herbals name it obscurely, but most of them claim the plant is a myth, or a bad omen.”

“Well, it certainly isn’t a myth,” Al said. “They might have been on to something with the bad omen part though. If it only springs up when the wells dry up, then that is as bad an omen as I have ever seen before.”

“Yet Sylus would have claimed it a good omen,” Alferug pointed out. “Remember, he claimed that the Wealth of Kings would be found when the bloodgrass was seen again.”

Al smiled. “If we can find the mines he used to build up Roegudok Hall’s coffers, then that would be swell indeed.”

Alferug nodded knowingly. “We have enough water from the other reservoirs for now. Besides, you are expanding the mines like Sylus did. Perhaps it will shift the Mystinen enough that a new well will spring up somewhere.”

“I am afraid that we ran into a snag trying to send a message to Hiasyntar’Kulai,” Al said, changing the subject.

“How so?” Alferug inquired.

Al sighed. “No messenger bird can reach the place he is at currently.”

“What about the Champion of Truth? Doesn’t he know where to go?”

Al nodded. “Erik has been there, but Erik is no longer in the Middle Kingdom. No one seems to know where he went either.”

“And there is no one else?” Alferug pressed.

Al held up a single finger. “There is one, a gnome named Jaleal. However, I have just received word that he is missing. Apparently he returned to his village and then after he went into his house no one has seen him since.”

“Curious,” Alferug said. “And you have no idea where the Father of the Ancients is?”

Al shook his head. “I know where he is, I just don’t know how to get there.”

Alferug frowned and clasped his hands in front of his waist.

“The officers at Fort Drake tell me he has gone back to a palace in the east, the residence of the Immortal Mystic.”

“I take it they did not know how to find it?”

Al shook his head. “Hiasyntar’Kulai told no one. It appears that unless we could find Jaleal, or Erik, our best chances to find the Father of the Ancients is to mount an excursion to the east.”

“That would take far too long,” Alferug said.

Al nodded. “I know. I came to that conclusion as well. I just thought that, since you are the advisor for everything revolving around tradition and the Ancients, perhaps you might know a different way to contact him?”

Alferug shook his head. “If I did, I would have mentioned it before. I can only guess that perhaps one of the priests at Valtuu Temple may know something I do not.”

Al groused and kicked at the dirt. “No, they don’t.”

“It’s alright, my king,” Alferug offered. “We have a plan. We’ll stick to it. I am sure something will turn up in the mines.”

*****

“Pass the beans,” Tareggh said.

Kirrik, a stout dwarf with a bit of gray peeking out from his otherwise black beard took the small pot in hand and offered it to Tareggh. The crew leader grunted, and spooned out some beans onto his tin plate. He then shifted closer to the fire.

The other three miners were working on clearing rubble out from the tunnel. It was long, unforgiving work, but the dwarves were used to it. They had been working on this particular tunnel for weeks. Just the day before, they had almost started dancing in celebration when they had found a vein of silver in the wall, but that had dried up after yielding only four pounds worth of quality material. Hardly enough to smile at, given the current state of affairs in Roegudok Hall. They needed something ten or even one hundred times that amount before they could celebrate.

“Dvek was sure he wanted us to clear this mine?” Kirrik asked as he took the beans back from Tareggh and set them down.

Tareggh nodded. “Yep. He handed assignments out to all the crew leaders in person.” Tareggh fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and held it out for Kirrik. “We drew mine thirty-seven.”

Kirrik nodded. He had seen the numeral designation over the entrance to this mine. But, he had also seen the boulders near the entrance. “This is the deepest mine,” Kirrik said. “We are two miles beneath the surface, and this shaft is rumored to go down for several more miles before branching out into different tunnels.”

Tareggh nodded and choked down his mouthful of beans. “And that’s why you see things you have never seen before, like that plant.” Tareggh pointed to a blood-red plant with round leaves. He then pointed a finger back at Kirrik and narrowed one of his green eyes on him. “This is also rumored to be one of the mines from King Sylus’ days. You know how well he did for himself. It would be nice to get a taste of that action.”

Kirrik offered a half smile and took a bite of beans himself. They were horribly bland, not to mention overcooked. The skins fell off and the beans turned to mush without even chewing. Kirrik might have chastised the chef, except in this case that would mean he would be yelling at himself. He managed to force the bite down and then he set his plate beside the pot that was very likely full of beans that were not going to be eaten.

He cleared his throat and then glanced to the three working on clearing the rubble. They hadn’t been tasked with clearing the mine entirely. That would waste too much time. Their job was to reach the deeper tunnels, and then to look for signs of gems or precious metal.

Kirrik doubted they would find any. Why else would Sylus, or any king afterward, allow the tunnel to remain blocked off unless it had been emptied of its treasures? There was, however, something else that bothered Kirrik. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, but it was always there, in the back of his mind, nagging and pulling at him.

Still, he kept it to himself, as he had for the duration of their shift in the mines. As it was, they only had three more days’ worth of food. They would soon be going back up to the main hall, and another mining group would take their turn in this forgotten tomb of a tunnel. So, for the next two days, Kirrik continued to hold his tongue when time for sleep came and they gathered around the fire. There was no need to upset anyone.

On the third day, during the final four hour shift before they would pack everything in, Kirrik was called over to help move a particularly stubborn boulder. It was several yards across, and nearly as high as the tunnel, stopping just short of the ceiling.

Kirrik hefted his large, canvas backpack up and moved over to the boulder. The other four dwarves moved a safe distance back, taking cover behind a pile of smaller boulders. Kirrik first took out a tin can filled with lard. He set it on the ground and then pulled a small, wooden box containing fuses out of the bag and set it down as well. He then pulled three additional bags out from inside the large backpack. He opened the drawstring on each bag and then bent his head back to look at the large boulder. There were no obvious fissures, but a vein of quarts did split the rock on one side, running horizontally with the floor and connecting with the wall.

Kirrik took the lard in hand and placed a copious amount in the thin space between the wall and the left side of the boulder. He then went to the backpack and pulled a large funnel out. He set the can of lard back into the backpack and picked up the first smaller bag. He pushed the end of the funnel as far as it would go into the space and then he poured a large amount of powdered charcoal into the funnel. A heavy, black dust flew up around his face, but Kirrik didn’t mind. He was more than used to it. Once all of the powder was situated on the lard, he repeated the step with the other two bags. The second bag contained saltpeter, and the last contained sulfur.

He then put away the ingredients and took out a long, wooden spoon. He gripped it by the bowl and used the long handle to mix his powder together. Some of the explosives engineers chided him for not mixing his explosives before setting them, but there was something about mixing it in place that always pleased Kirrik.

When he had satisfactorily mixed the black powder, Kirrik placed the fuse and then packed lard on top to hold it all in place. It was an oddly shaped explosive, but it was custom fit for this boulder. It was only an inch wide, not counting the lard shell, but it was nearly two feet deep and several inches tall. That was why he never mixed his powder first. Pre-made explosives never fit the way his custom mixes would.

He took a moment to smile at it and then he carried the backpack, containing all of the ingredients, back to the barricade where his colleagues were waiting.

“Anyone care to do the honors?” Kirrik asked.

They all shook their heads.

“Get on with it Kirrik,” Tareggh shouted. “I don’t want Jesep leading the next crew right behind us and finding something in the first few minutes just because we did all of the hard work.”

Kirrik knew none of them would offer to light it. If he thought they would ever say ‘yes’ then he wouldn’t offer. For him, only half of the fun was making the bomb. The other half was setting it off.

He nearly skipped back to the fuse. It was three feet long, dangling out from the bomb and running along the floor. Easily enough to ensure Kirrik got back in time.