The Paladins of Naretia

Chapter 15

  Ol?rin was hoping that the dwarfs wouldn't pay much attention to Aramus as they walked through their underground city. But how could a community of half-men not notice two tall strangers wandering their streets? Especially as one of them had large black wings and eyes that glowed like the lava. He was at least grateful that they didn't point and stare, or run screaming in absolute terror at the mere sight of him. But there was the odd shuffle of small children, with bristly moustaches, being herded back indoors by their equally hairy parents as they approached; not to mention the distinctive clatter of silver as it was shoved into various hiding places. Aramus returned the befuddled stares at the whiskery children. He nearly followed them into their houses to get a better look too, and Ol?rin worked hard not to laugh.

  "Are all the children like that?" Aramus asked.

  It was only dwarfs crossed with other species, such as humans, which seemed to be immune to the tufty look that usually accompanied their kind. But none of those children lived underground with the rest of the hardened dwarfs; the particulars of their heritage also seeing them need sunshine on more than one occasion in the year. These would be the dwarfs that most above ground dwellers would be accustomed to. And so, Aramus's marvel at the strange little creatures around him was to be expected.

  "You should know better than to stare at the unusual," Ol?rin scolded.

  Aramus let the grip of his probing eyes go immediately and stared at the ground instead.

  "You're right," he replied quietly. "Out of all the people in existence, I know what it is like to be stared at like that. But it's so hard to look away. I couldn't help it, and now some small child might think that I believe him to be a monster. What kind of person does that make me?"

  "Don't feel too guilty," Ol?rin replied sympathetically. "I think you'll find that they were staring at you too. The inhabitants of Naretia are all curious creatures and it should bring you some comfort to know that you are no different."

  Aramus smiled weakly as they made their way through the streets of houses fighting for space. But as his guilt trained his eyes to the obsidian rock beneath his feet, Ol?rin couldn't help but notice that there was something very odd about Aramus at that moment. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but something about the way he was carrying himself, the glow from his amber eyes, the lack of any sweat on his perfectly tanned skin, all cried a warning in his old head. But Ol?rin couldn't hear the words no matter how hard he tried.

  "State yer business!" an authoritative voice boomed over the hustle and bustle of Balbuldor.

  Ol?rin nearly jumped out of his skin. He had been too busy listening to the foggy voices in his head to notice the looming palace only three feet in front of him. Standing beneath an ornately carved, golden arch was a soldier. His dwarven armour was considerably shinier, and better fitted, than that of Bernard's. His physique was leaner too, and his straight, black beard was neatly plaited into long ropes, tied off at the end with bobbles of the same shiny metal as his armour. His large broad axe glinted in the dim light of the dark streets.

  It was only after a moment of clearing his throat that Ol?rin realised there were, in fact, two of them standing by the heavy gold door. Each one gleamed in their armours brilliant lustre, and each one eyed him suspiciously with beady brown eyes that turned down at the edges.

  "We have come to see your king," Ol?rin replied.

  "King Thrais willnae see peddlers and?"

  Both of the guard's small eyes widened at the sight of Aramus. Their tanned skin paled, and their mouths dropped open as they struggled to form whatever words they had meant to come out.

  "Dantet!" the first guard finally hissed, pointing his axe toward Aramus.

  The second guard followed suit and thrust his spear toward Aramus's throat. Aramus stood still with his hands held in the air.

  "Leave, now," the first soldier said. "No creature of Dantet will pass through these gates, nor any companion of his either. Whot fool let you in?"

  "Please," Ol?rin said calmly. "We come on a very important matter. It was your wise Stair Guard, Bernard Barrelbasher, who gave us passage. He understood the urgency of our quest, and I assure you that your king will too."

  "That dobber? Och, Angus's no' gonnea be happy wih' that," said the first guard.

  "No, I reckon Bernard'll be cleaning jobbies outa the lavs till the end of his days fer that one," said the second.

  "Who's Angus?" Aramus asked.

  "Shut it, you," said the first guard. "Angus is the king's right arm, head of the King's Guard, and brother of Bernard. If it weren't for Angus, Bernard would still be stuck in the lower mines along wih' all the other oafs that havenea got the smarts to do anything better."

  "We had no idea and meant no offence," Ol?rin interjected before Aramus could say anything else. "Please, tell your king that we are here. I am sure that he will reward you greatly for it."

  The two guards looked at one another in silent contemplation. Ol?rin could see them considering if the reward might be worth taking the risk. True to their nature, the lure of possible remuneration was too much for the half-men.

  "Right," the first guard said. "Ye two stay here and I'll go speak tae Angus."

  The first guard dropped his axe and turned toward the gold door behind him. It was embossed with the image of a proud dwarf wearing a tall spikey crown. Using the knocker, which was the oversized crotch of the embossed king, he gave one mighty pull and the door swung open with a creaky protest. The second guard pressed the point of his spear into Aramus's throat to make sure that he didn't take advantage of the open door. Aramus grimaced as a small trickle of black blood ran down his neck. The sight of Aramus's dark blood was enough for the second guard to gulp and relinquish the pressure immediately. Aramus wiped his neck and locked eyes with the guard. The two stared at one another for an age, unable to look away, one because of anger the other because of fear.

  After what seemed like forever, the faint sound of armoured footsteps grew louder from the palace ingress. Soon the first guard reappeared with another more powerful looking dwarf. His armour glinted with a blue hue, something Ol?rin had never seen, and his fiery, red beard was neatly plaited in the same way as palace guards. A large broad sword, the length of the dwarf himself, was strapped to his back along with a more proportioned shield. Ol?rin was sure that if ever there was a dwarf who was capable of ripping a man's heart from his chest, that this would be him.

  "Ol?rin Talfan?" the more powerful dwarf asked, throwing a cautious eye at Aramus.

  Ol?rin nodded.

  "My name is Angus. The king has been expecting you."

  Angus gestured for them to follow him into the palace. Ol?rin breathed a sigh of relief. He had given his last potion of fortune to Bernard and was thusly out of any more bribing material that a dwarf would be interested in. The second guard lowered his spear, but still kept it cautiously trailed on Aramus as they walked beneath the golden arch.

  Ol?rin heard Aramus take a small breath in as they entered the brightly lit halls of the palace, and he could see why. Every wall was made of solid gold. Chandeliers of diamonds, rubies, and emeralds dotted the tall ceilings at three foot intervals. Larger than life portraits of past rulers, fighting for room on the walls, were trapped in heavy gold frames; each one wearing the same spikey crown as the other. The long since dead leaders also wore a stare, which, with dusty suspicious eyes, followed the two strangers as they encroached into their inner sanctum.

  "Ye'll walk no' farther than I tell ye, and ye'll no' speak until spoken to, understand?"

  Angus didn't wait for an answer, nor did he glance behind him at the two tall men who followed. He made his way to a pair of heavy looking golden doors at the end of the great hall and, with one powerful shove, pushed them open.

  Inside, a large circular room opened up. Six enormous pillars moulded in the likeness of three dwarfs, foot on shoulders, strained to hold up the solid gold roof above. The heavy feet of the bottom dwar
f rested on solid golden floors. They looked too heavy to be supported and Ol?rin wondered if the floor might eventually give way. Ten narrow windows, clearly made out of large diamonds interlocked with a thin mesh of silver metal, gleamed in the light of fifteen hissing gas lamps which dotted the walls.

  From the corner of his eye, Ol?rin saw Aramus straightened his black, leather tunic and try to not look self-conscious in the opulent surroundings. Ol?rin too felt like the peddler the other dwarfs had called him, and attempted to right his floppy, brown hat, but to no avail. Wishing now that he had taken the time to replace his worn clothes, Ol?rin followed Angus into the room.

  A sea of tufty dwarfs in shining metal armour, and bearded court maidens in fine silks, parted way as the two strangers approached the throne. Whispers of the name Dantet circulated the large room, and soon it was all that could be heard. Angus stopped three feet before a rotund dwarf who had perched himself on a collection of golden boulders, haphazardly melted together to form a high-backed throne. Dotted between the melted boulders were enormous precious stones, which glinted in the bright lights of the room.

  The king himself appeared to be an old man: His beard was grey, the hair on his large dome was visibly thinning, and it all contrasted brightly against his dark skin. Perched on top of his balding head was the same spikey crown Ol?rin had seen in the portraits. It was a diadem whose construction was solely meant to boast of the wearer's wealth. To the less observant it might have looked as though a solid gold porcupine had taken roost upon the king's head.

  "Whot does me right arm bring before me here?" the king's voice boomed.

  Clad in robes of red and gold, the king's lack of any physical prowess was overshadowed by the authority in his voice, and the menacing stare he gave Aramus.

  "Your right arm brings you Ol?rin Talfan, the wizard, and his companion," Angus replied bending on one knee.

  Although they hadn't been told that they must genuflect before the king, Ol?rin thought it a good idea. He gave Aramus a poke in the ribs and, together, they kneeled.

  "His friend, you say?" the king said, rising from his throne. "Do ye mean to tell me that the Supreme Wizard of Lothangard has befriended the son of Dantet? I think my right arm has wronged me by bringing this demon into my palace. Perhaps I should cut it off?"

  It became obvious to Ol?rin that the king never had any intention of seeing them, and it was only by the good fortunes of a greedy stair guard, and Angus overriding his orders, that they now knelt before him. Ol?rin was sure Angus would pay for his insubordination later. But something else the king had said made Ol?rin's eyebrows knit together. He hadn't told anyone in Bartertown the particulars of their quest. Although it was obvious that Aramus had physical traits of the Dark God, he had never mentioned that he was, in fact, the son of Dantet. Most people wrongly assumed that he was a reincarnation of the Dark God himself, or a minion. Unlike the startled courtiers, the sight of Aramus in Balbuldor didn't seem to surprise Angus, or the king.

  "Och, that's right, wizard, there's no need tae look so surprised. When ya live so close to the lair of the Dark God, ye hear a thing or two. I know who he is and why you are here, and I want nothing to do wih' it. If yer looking for help, then ye've come tae the wrong place."

  "Then you have heard about the prophecy, King Thrais?" Ol?rin asked.

  "Aye, and I'll be asking me right arm to pick up me sword in a moment, and slay the winged man. There'll be no prophecy if there's no son tae carry it out."

  Aramus glanced wide-eyed at Ol?rin, before quickly standing and backing away from Angus. The king's right arm, however, was motionless, seemingly unconvinced that the king had actually given any order yet.

  "You know that I cannot allow that, Your Majesty," Ol?rin said, standing between Aramus and the formidable dwarf. "Even if he should die, I am not convinced that his death would mean the end of the prophecy. The vision wasn't very clear, and it was had over two hundred years ago. I cannot say, with absolute certainty, that Aramus's death is not the key to Dantet's plan. In fact, I have come to believe that it is the Dark God's desire, because his children have not tried to aid his son, but rather have relentlessly tried to kill him."

  "But that dinnae make no sense," the king said incredulously. "From whot I've heard, he'd surely want his son on mortal soil tae carry out his plans. That's whot I've heard. Why would he want him dead? I ask me right arm, whot do you make of thas?"

  Angus stood and glanced back at the two strangers for a moment. His blue eyes lazily shifting between Ol?rin and Armaus before turning back toward his king.

  "As we are so close tae the lair of the Dark God, I dinnae think it wise tae dance so close tae the edge of the cliff," he replied.

  "Och, fer the love of the wee man, would ye speak proper," the king demanded.

  "If Dantet should rise," Angus said slowly. "Where do you think his army will come from?"

  "From under mortal soil," the king replied with a grave expression.

  "And whot people will feel the first blows of his mighty fists?"

  The king slowly glanced around at the worried looking courtiers, all grandeur and pride gone from his expression. "We, the dwarfs," he said in a quiet voice.

  "Your right arm thinks that helping these two strangers will ensure the survival of our people," Angus continued. "But I am only an arm, and my king must use his head tae decide."

  The king sat back down in his chair with a heavy plop, like the weight of the world had suddenly landed on him. Ol?rin suspected that it had, and didn't envy his position.

  "Whot would ye be asking of me?" Thrais asked Ol?rin.

  "I would ask for the Valefire," Ol?rin replied flatly.

  The king scoffed, laughed, and then almost choked himself with the array of noises of disbelief that bubbled out of him. His face went pure scarlet and his crown nearly toppled from his head.

  "What's the Valefire?" Aramus asked quietly from behind Ol?rin.

  "The Valefire, strange fella," the king replied, still occasionally letting out a choked noise of disbelief, "is said tae be the mighty shield of the Goddess Edwina, and is all that protects us from Dantet. Many thousands of years ago, the mines of Balbuldor ran too deep, and we reached the precipice between the mortal world and his dark world. Shielding that divide, was a wall of solid stone that shone like the moon in the night sky. My ancestors, not knowing anything of it, sought the advice of a wizard. That dark wizard persuaded them that such a stone was a gift from the Goddess, and must be taken with gratitude. They spent decades trying tae break the stone. They succeeded, and that is how some of Dantet's children came tae first roam mortal soil.

  "We sealed the divide, of course. But even wih' the metal of the Gods, Etherium, it was no match for Dantet's determination. Tae thas day, dark things still rise, and only by regularly reinforcing the Etherium using a Valefire shard, and a spell given tae us by a dwarf wizard, can we hope tae keep his armies at bay. But wih'out it, I fear that his armies would find a weakness in the seal. And so, you can see what it is Ol?rin is asking of me, winged man. If the Valefire becomes lost tae us, then Dantet's army will be freed, and we will be overwhelmed."

  The king took off his crown and scratched his balding dark dome with a frustrated sigh, before plopping it back on his head again. What he had failed to mention about the Valefire was that it was also a highly coveted talisman. Created by the Goddess herself, many a wizard had died trying to reach the underground city of Balbuldor to steal it, or persuade it from the king's vaults. Ol?rin was not immune to this desire, and he feared that his faithfulness to the quest might falter if he should handle something so hallowed. But the Goddess herself had told him to stay the path he was on, and he trusted her foresight.

  "I cannae be quick wih' thas decision, wizard," he said, eyeing the tall visitors. "It's gonnae take some time. So, until then you two are tae be my guests. Angus, here, will be yer guide and tonight, we shall feast together as new friends ought to."

  If th
ere was one thing the dwarfs were known for, more than their paranoia, it was their feasts. Ol?rin's heart gave a small jump of excitement, and he couldn't help but beam broadly. It had been a long journey and he could do with some hearty dwarven ale.

  "It would be our honour, and to thank you for your hospitality I bring a humble gift," Ol?rin replied, whipping off his hat and producing the bottle of whiskey he obtained from the Trithonian, much to the kings delight.

  "Thas will no' sway my decision, you understand?" the king replied, eagerly gesturing for one of his guards to pass him the bottle.

  "Of course," Ol?rin said with a bow. "Such a wise leader as yourself could never be swayed with a bribe."