Veegal’s Wall
Book 2 of the Lost Saga
Published by Adam L McCullough
Copyright 2012 Adam McCullough
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Prologue
“We must hurry,” Gabriela whispered, eyes darting about as she peered around the corner from the dark alley she had been hiding in.
It had been raining again. The hood of her saturated black cloak was down allowing her long soaked golden hair to spill over her shoulders.
Jacob trotted up next to her wearing the light brown robes of a priest, his brown hair cut short in the fashion of the clergy, however he was no priest. Unlike Gabriela he was dry having just slipped quietly from the Vanberg cathedral.
“Patients Gabriela, this was no easy task and we must not appear to be fleeing a crime scene.”
“Any problems?” she asked as the two stepped from the alley and followed the street toward the docks.
“Nothing I could not handle,” Jacob said patting the dagger hiding beneath his robes, “but soon the order will be looking for their missing guards, and the Alminthium stone. I trust our travel arrangements are in order.”
“Yes, the Misty Marie stands ready to leave as soon as we arrive.”
Jacob let a wry smile pass over his lips. “If we make it, seems somebody picked up our trail as soon as we left the alley. Seventy paces back, male wearing a brown shawl, hood pulled over his eyes. His hands are fidgety and he appears to be mumbling to himself.”
Gabriela let out a small sigh. They had been warned that once the stone had cleared the protective wards of the cathedral’s vault there would be a high chance its trail would be picked up by magic wielders itching for a chance to claim the amulet as their own. Not for the first time she wondered at their employers wisdom of removing the Alminthium Stone from the protection of the paladin order. However what few people knew was that the wards that held the magic wielders at bay also forced the paladins to stay clear. The guards Jacob had dealt with were just that, hired guards.
“I see him,” Gabriela said. “How do you wish to deal with him? Our employer was very clear in his instructions. Do not be followed back to the docks.”
“We’ll have to take him while we still have the element of surprise. Next alley you cut left, go down one street and then over. I’ll go straight one more street then cut left. Try to get in behind him. I do not wish to test my luck in a fair fight against a mage.”
Gabriela nodded an agreement as she covertly checked her weapons then slipped casually down the next alley. The man following them slipped past her alley in pursuit of Jacob. Now in the clear she picked up the pace and loosened her daggers in their sheaths then slid the small crossbow from beneath her cloak.
The last time she had faced a mage it had ended badly. She and three others had been hired to assassinate a mage that had used her powers to put an entire village under her control. It did not end well, two of her partners were vaporized and the third was crippled for life. It was as much luck as skill that she herself had survived.
After a few moments she reached the next street and cut right. There were couples strolling slowly while children played merrily in the puddles gathered in the street enjoying another brief lull in the weather. Businessmen, beggars, shoppers all going about their business hustled to and fro. This was not good. If this went down here there would be many witnesses, and possibly casualties. She hugged the walls blending into the shadows getting into position for when Jacob and his mysterious follower slide into the street in front of her.
Movement further down the street caught her eye. A woman wearing light colored robes stood motionless obviously trying to go unnoticed as she leaned against the wall of the bakery. Across the street from where she stood, the woman’s gaze was straight towards the alley where Jacob would be exiting from shortly. An uneasy feeling hit the pit of her stomach as the woman began to weave her hands through the air, her lips moving to the cadence of some unheard mantra. The hands of the woman began to glow with magical energies.
With a sense of urgency Gabriela broke from the shadows in an attempt to get close enough for a shot readying her crossbow as she ran. It was then that Jacob appeared from the alley.
“Jacob hit the ground,” she screamed as the mage near the bakery unleashed her awful power.
Jacob complied throwing himself to the ground as blue bolts of energy blasted through the air above him. He screamed as heat from the bolts scorched his back.
A second scream came from behind him as the man that had been following was blown backwards into a wall by the unsuspected assault. The would be assassin continued to wail as he burst into flames, clambered to his feet then ran back down the alley which he had come.
Gabriela continued her mad dash at the mage near the bakery who was now focused solely on her. Bystanders were in complete panic now running this way and that or gathering up children to drag them to safety forcing her to vie for a clear shot.
None of that seemed to bother the mage though as she gathered up her power for another blast with no apparent concern about who or what would be in the way when she released her energies. Once again bolts of scorching energies shot forth from her hands into the hapless crowd.
Gabriela rolled to the side as a handful of citizens simply ceased to exist, turned to ash and swept away by the breeze. Others further away lit up as did the buildings despite being soaked by the rains.
With the crowd conveniently cleared out of the way she was free to fire back. The bolt released with a twang as it shot forth from the crossbow. The shot flew true only to stop short and drop harmlessly to the ground.
The mage grinned as she launched a series of quick casting lesser spells driving Gabriela to find cover within a seamstress shop. The shop owner dove behind her counter and began shrieking in terror as the walls cracked and splintered and bolts of cloth lit on fire quickly filling the showroom with smoke.
A cry of pain from outside encouraged Gabriela to peek around the doorframe. Jacob stood behind the mage who was now choking on her own blood thanks to the gash across her throat. With the current threat eliminated the two dashed down the street, any thought of discretion now gone. They had not made it far when they found themselves surrounded by even more magic wielders.
Immediately, destructive spells filled the air as all the magic wielders unleashed their powers, passing dangerously close as they sought out targets. The mages were fighting over who would claim the stone Gabriela realized. Apparently both she and Jacob were considered a lesser threat, both being allowed to dive for cover while the casters massacred one another.
A heavily armored gauntlet slammed down on Gabriela’s shoulder. She spun around and through a punch directly into the chest plate of a knight.
“With me,” the unknown knight ordered.
Seeing no alternative Gabriela and Jacob followed the knight past the bodies of mages the knight must have slain to get to them. Once down the alley and around the next corner, the knight, which they both finally realized was a paladin, grabbed Jacob by his clergy robes and slammed him up against the wall of a nearby building.
“What have you done?” the paladin demanded. “You have no idea the unseen dangers that have been lurking around this city for years just to get a shot at what you now carry?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Jacob stammered.
“You have the amulet,” the paladin roared, “and now this city will burn.”
“We can get it back to the cathedral,” Gabriela said. “There is still time.”
“No, there is not,” the paladin replied. “The cathedral burns as we speak. The city guard is being overran by mages, shaman, and who knows what else all driven mad by the desire for that amulet. What was your escape plan?”
“We were to meet a ship at the docks and make for the dwarven nation of Mal-Karak where it is to be put into the protection of the dwarves, away from the ability or desire to make use of it.”
The paladin mulled that over for a moment. There was no protecting the amulet now. Escape by sea seemed to be the most effective means of escape.
“We cannot let the amulet fall into the wrong hands so that is what we will do. Lead on,” he ordered giving Jacob a shove in the right direction as padded feet ran down the alley at them.
The eyes of the woman leading the charge glowed as she unleashed lightning from her fingertips. Both Gabriela and Jacob prepared for the worst but the paladin stepped into the spells path. With a word the paladin became encompassed by a blue glow. The spell was redirected around them crackling against the buildings instead. The paladin spoke again and the woman’s chest exploded where her heart would have been.
The people charging along with the now dead woman gave pause then began to back away. “Run!” the paladin yelled. “I’ll have to hold them here.”
Neither Jacob nor Gabriela had to be told twice. Both sprinted in the direction of the docks as the paladin charged into the mob of angry casters. Silently Gabriela wished the paladin luck as what sounded like hell spewing forth erupted behind them.
It took them five more minutes to reach the docks. The Misty Marie was set to leave. The mooring lines untied and oarsman ready to propel the vessel into open waters where she could make sail. The ship’s captain met them at the gangplank and hurried them aboard. No sooner had they set foot onboard the gangplank was cast into the water and the vessel lurched into motion. As the vessel fled the warzone, the once great city of Vanberg was consumed by flame.
Recap of Veegal’s Wall
Spurred by visions of death and destruction King Shamus Argile pays Dredrik and The Lost warriors known as the Dread Legion for their service to the Eebrookian Royal Army with the deed to the island of Rhonin and pronounced Dredrik to be ruler of those lands. The only catch, they had to retrieve the Kings children from Calington and bring them with them across the sea far away from Eebrook. They agree and set out on their quest, after a side trip to Montrel to investigate strange happenings at Eertu’s request.
There they rescued a woman named Vessa who turned out be a Black Rose assassin and witnessed King Argile’s suicidal cavalry charge against new invaders that have come to exploit the weakened nation nearing the end of its civil war.
Now having attracted the attention of a sorcerer named Merca and his immortal henchman Mareth they set out on their journey to the capital city of Calington to honor King Argiles terms while being pursued by the invading armies of Lord General Kuzzak. Along the way they stop at a village where Dredrik finds the opportunity to reconcile his past and reunite with Eitreen, now the village’s sole tavern owner.
The village comes under attack by soldiers led by Mareth who was ordered to hunt down and destroy Eertu with help from captured Black Rose Assassins who took the job in exchange for their lives and coin.
After the battle they learn the name of their pursuer which Eertu recognizes as a name from legend. The need to both carry out Argiles request, and to find information on the warrior known as Mareth forces the party into two groups. One party led by Eertu traveled to the Black Rose sanctuary for information, the other led by Dredrik toward Veegal’s wall with the survivors of the attack on the village in tow.
At the Black Rose sanctuary Eertu’s group tangles with Mareth once again barely escaping with new allies and the truth about Mareth.
Both parties eventually arrive at Veegal’s wall, the fortress city that blocked the only suitable passage through the mountain range that divided eastern and western Eebrook, only to find that the now ascended son of King Argile, spurred on by visions of his own, had ordered the evacuation of Veegal’s Wall by the army in order to reinforce the capital city of Calington.
Knowing full well that Veegal’s Wall represented the one place they might be able to hold back the Invading armies Dredrik and his allies turn the refugees into the only chance of holding Veegal’s Wall and turning back Kuzzak’s army risking all his own people had fought for in the process.
Veegal’s Wall falls, but not before Mareth was destroyed with the help of an enchanted dagger given to Julian by the sorcerer Merca who had grown worried by his henchman’s growing powers. Out of revenge Mareth informs them that Merca came with Lord Kuzzak’s army for one thing, the Alminthium Stone, an amulet that could bestow it’s wearer with untold power. Once again the party is forced to separate. One group to continue leading the refugees to the safety of Calington, the other to Mal-Karak, the Dwarven city state in northern Eebrook, to deal with the new threat the Alminthium Stone represents.
Chapter 1
“This is it?” Eertu asked as he, Wikkid, and Anja stood before a small dark tunnel entrance barely large enough for a dwarf to stand leading into the side of the Mal-Karak Mountains. A stream of water ran from the entrance and down the mountain side. “This is the entrance to the great Dwarven kingdom of Mal-Karak?”
They had left their horses with a human farmer near the base of the mountain. After a few coins they secured not only lodging for their steeds but plain clothing for Eertu and Anja along with a few other supplies.
“No,” Wikkid’s gruff voice replied. “It’s more of an exit really.”
Anja made an unpleasant face as she sniffed the air coming from within the cavern. It was not a pleasant smell. “Sewers,” she stated flatly.
“Aye Las, these tunnels lead directly to the great houses. Follow the right paths and we will arrive at my ancestral home.”
“I thought you said if we dressed and acted as your servants we would have no troubles gaining access through the front.” Eertu said.
“Trouble no, but it would draw a great deal of unwanted attention. I’d prefer to not alert the Council to my presence until I’m ready to face them. Before we go in let’s get a few things straight.
First under no circumstances can anybody know either one of you are magic wielders. Since the great war my kin has distrusted two things, magic wielders and humans. You two are both.
Secondly you two must be ready to do anything I say. Except for the human district the only men in Mal-Karak are servants, slaves, diplomats and traders. Each one of these follows strict rules of conduct according to their station.”
“Wait. There is a human district in Mal-Karak? Last time I checked, and you just said as much yourself, the Dwarves of Mal-Karak are not on good terms with the race of men,” Eertu stated.
“Their origin is a story that dates back to the delivery of the Alminthium Stone,” Wikkid began. “The men and women who delivered the amulet where not allowed to return home. We dwarves may not have magic but we understood the threat the amulet represented. Nobody who knew of its existence inside these mountains could be allowed to leave.”
“That would mean knowledge of the amulet is privileged information,” Eertu concluded. “You have been holding out on us.”
“You know the rules of the lost, Lad. What’s past is past.”
“And what if the past is what we have to face now?” Anja asked. “Do we not deserve to know what lies ahead?”
“When the time comes I’ll tell the both of you what you need to know,” Wikkid said hefting his great axe over his shoulder. “Now if one of you would be so kind as to light the way.”
“You said no magic.” Eertu pointed out.
“I was referring to the torch in your satchel genius. It’s a good thing you got your hand back. You’d be lost if you had to live like the rest of us.”
Eertu pulled out the torch and made a show of using magic to light it. “Absolutely,” he agreed.
Wikkid sighed then marched into the tunnel muttering in dwarvish, water splashing up around his knees as he went. Eertu shrugged at Anja then followed after him, torch held high as the low ceiling would allow so that both he and Anja could see. Wikkid seemed to have little trouble in the dim light keeping a good distance ahead of them.
They continued on through the muck for what seemed like hours taking numerous twists and turns burning through several torches until they reached a good sized cavern that allowed Eertu and Anja to stand to full height. Both the humans stretched trying to loosen the stiffness from their backs. A set of steps carved into the stone on the far side of the chamber climbed high into the cavern until they stopped at a doorway. Even in the depths of their sewers the stone work of the dwarves had no equal. Each step was carved with the pictographs of dwarven achievements, victories and defeats. A few minutes later they found themselves huffing and puffing before a solid looking iron door at the top of the steps.
Wikkid dug under the top of his breast plate until he produced a gold chain from around his neck with an iron key dangling from the end. He inserted the key and turned it until a loud click echoed through the chamber. The iron hinges creaked as the door slowly swung out toward them causing all three to step back simultaneously.
A grey haired dwarf wearing rough leather armor and armed to the teeth stepped forward wearing a scowl on his face as he stared at the newcomers at his door. He then shrugged a
“Master Wikkid,” the dwarf spoke in common. “It’s about time you came home.”
“Too soon if you ask me Master Grimwald,” Wikkid countered, “but from what I hear a necessity.”
Grimwald hefted his axe across his shoulder and motioned for them to follow with a bob of his head before marching up the steeply inclining tunnel beyond the iron door.
“Could be, but if it’s about the war council I doubt you will hold much sway. You have been branded an Eebrookian sympathizer in your absence. Your five years were up fifteen ago.”
Eertu pulled the heavy iron door closed then hurried to catch up with the party. “How is it you knew we were coming?”
Wikkid pulled a smooth red stone from a pocket inside his cloak that was glowing dimly in his hand. “A gift from an old friend, I have one, Grimwald has another. When the two get close enough they begin to glow.”
“Hmph,” Grimwald grunted, “if I was smart I’d thrown the bloody thing away with all the trouble you could stir up.”
“Trouble is coming whether I stir the pot or not. Right now we have a bigger issue than the council’s vote to join Lord Kuzzak’s war effort against Eebrook.”
Grimwald stopped in his tracks then turned a puzzled gaze toward Wikkid. “What could possibly be more important than that?”
“There is a sorcerer in Kuzzak’s army seeking the Alminthium Stone,” Anja said.
Grimwald continued the trek up the tunnel. “Nonsense, the Alminthium Stone has been tucked away deeply within Mal-Karak for hundreds of years. The memories of men do not last that long except for what they recite from legends handed down and distorted through the years. Any human that knew of the amulet’s destination never left Mal-Karak.”
“That may be, but it does not change the facts,” Wikkid said backing up Anja’s claim. “We faced this sorcerer at Veegal’s Wall. Had it not been for luck and careful preparations the fortress would have fallen within an hour.”
“Then how do you want to proceed?” Grimwald asked as they came to another iron door. Unlike the door in the sewers this one lacked the rust and grime that had coated the other. Dwarven symbols were etched artistically into the metal framing the image of an anvil with two double bladed axes crossing just beneath the anvil. He put his shoulder against the heavy door and forced it open.
The world on the other side of the door was a far cry from what they had seen so far. Unlike the dark, dank tunnels they had just navigated the next chamber was brightly lit by glowing white gems set within the smooth white surfaces of the stone walls and ceilings. Four stone benches large enough for two to three dwarves enveloped what appeared to be a small round flower garden only decorated with colorful stones and gems instead of vegetation. At the far end of the chamber was what appeared to be a house standing three stories tall carved from stone stretching from floor to ceiling of the chamber complete with balconies, iron doors and glassless windows.
A back yard Eertu realized.
“First hot baths and a real meal,” Wikkid replied. “Then we need to get a look at Lord Kuzzak’s envoy.”
“To what end?” Grimwald asked. “The envoy has been here for weeks. If you are trying to identify the sorcerer nobody has arrived from the south other than you and a few scouting parties in all that time.”
“Not yet,” Eertu added, “but for something this important I’d bet my last sovereign he’ll be along. Until then what can we do to ensure the protection of the Alminthium Stone?”
“That information is beyond any of us. Only a select few know of its existence and even less its location.” Grimwald informed them. “If Wikkid and I cannot find the blasted thing how will some outsider?”
. . . . .
“Unfortunately that’s the easy part.” Eertu said as he shoved a juicy piece of stringy meat into his mouth. His taste buds exploded as the first good food he’d had in weeks landed on his tongue. “Oh, that is good.”
Grimwald had left to attend to his duties as weapons master for house Makavhis, which as it turns out is Wikkid’s clan name. Servants had readied the baths and then set the tables while the three of them basked in the glorious warm water as the grime of their travels and stench of sewers were soaked away. Then as expected the servants had cleared the guest wing before the waters had cooled. If Grimwald had been worried about servants asking questions about his strange demands he had not shown it.
Anja nodded her head in agreement. “I to have felt a strange power ever since the doors from the sewers opened. Its presence has only grown in strength as we moved deeper into the city. Given time anybody attuned to magic could track down the amulet, if that is what I have been sensing.”
Eertu swallowed the tasty bite then washed it down with a goblet of water. There was too much at stake to sample the much vaunted Dwarven brews. “I doubt the dwarves are going to let a foreign human wonder around aimlessly through the halls of Mal-Karak.”
Wikkid had no reservations about drinking though and wiped the froth from his beard as he slammed his goblet onto the stone table. “Where there’s a will there’s a way. And we will need a way to search for the amulet ourselves.”
“Does illusion work on dwarves?” Eertu asked thinking back to the concealed entrances of the Black Rose Sanctuary.
Anja shook her head. “The illusions protecting the sanctuary took months to prepare and were powered by the energies of intersecting ley lines. Maybe if I was standing still I could pull off something but on the move it would be impossible.”
Wikkid stroked his beard in thought. “I think it’s time for Grimwald to have a servant of his own. Nobody will question an aging dwarf hiring an assistant to help with mundane tasks. Most dwarfs would not know if Eertu came from the human district or not. And the humans there are not going to question a dwarf weapons master with a servant in tow.”
“Would work, but why not use both of us?” Eertu asked.
“Because no matter how we try to dress her up, Anja is going to turn too many heads, we need somebody that can blend in with the common man. No offense, Lad.”
“Oh I quite agree,” Eertu said. “She would turn a good number of heads.”
Anja batted her eyes and placed a hand on her chest in mock embarrassment. “You mean little ole me? Flattery will get you...”
“Nothing,” Wikkid interrupted. “I’ve heard what happened last time you two got together. We don’t need that kind of attention.”
“Oh.”
Anja’s face contorted into a pouting expression that Eertu found irresistibly adorable. “Then I guess we better hurry up and get this thing done. What are we going to do when we find the amulet?”
“To be honest I have not thought that far ahead,” Wikkid replied. “Let’s just find the accursed thing and identify any threats against it first. Then we can worry about what now.”
Eertu placed his elbows on the table then rested his chin upon his clasped fingers.
“Back at the sewer gate Grimwald said your five years were up twenty years ago. Care to clarify?”
Wikkid took a deep breath then stared into his empty mug for a time before speaking.
“I had a disagreement with the ruling council. With the nation of Eebrook showing signs of strain and weakness the majority of the nobles had voted to invade Eebrook and reclaim lost territories. I had argued against it on the grounds that once we pushed away from the foothills we’d once again be at the mercy of human cavalry and magic. Besides by my reckoning we should be looking forward toward trade and prosperity not dwelling over events that took place hundreds of years ago. As the only voice of opposition I was ordered to go out into human lands to learn of your cultures and people, see if I still felt the same way after spending a few years among your kind. In return they would not make any aggressive moves until I returned.”
“So that’s why you joined the lost and stayed away,” Anja said, “you were attempting to maintain peace between Mal-Karak and Eebrook.”
“To be honest I had come to the conclusion near the end of my designated time that the council was right. That man deserved to be driven away from these lands. I had seen brutality, cruelty, and depravity in excess. The poor and weak trampled upon by their fellow man as they sought riches and power regardless of the cost. Even the lost tribes faced the same struggles albeit on a smaller scale. The lords of Eebrook were too greedy and dangerous to do business with and not trustworthy enough for peace.”
Eertu raised a questioning eyebrow. “What changed your mind?”
“Two things, first Shamus Argile rose to power and immediately set out to right the wrongs running rampant through his kingdom. Secondly there was Dredrik. Something in my gut told me I had to see to the welfare and rearing of that snot nosed brat that literally ran into me while fleeing for his life.”
“Sounds like a far cry from the Dredrik we know today.” Eertu remarked.
“No, he’s the same person. Even that scared kid made the decision to return and fight, even made a deal with his own life to rescue his people. He was born to lead, and that’s what I taught him to do. I figured I’d set him on the right path then return home and take House Makahvis’ seat in the council. Instead I found myself remaining with the lost just to see what kind of trouble Dredrik would find to pit himself against next.”
Eertu nodded knowingly. “He does find the best trouble.”
“That he does.”
Chapter 2
“What’s wrong with her?” Dredrik asked as he kneeled down beside Jillian, the former assassin who had not only saved his life but that of nearly everybody that survived the melee inside Veegal’s Wall. The young woman had survived the destruction of Duke Harriman’s army, forced service in Lord General Kuzzak’s army, captivity at the hands of Mareth, the death of her sister telepath Kathrin and still managed to land the crippling blow against Mareth who had been handedly dealing with the combined martial prowess of himself, Wikkid, two magic wielders and a handful of other warriors at once.
That same strong woman now lay writhing in pain upon the ground curled up in the fetal position clutching her belly near one of the many campfires lit by the refugees of Eastern Eebrook as they made camp for the night.
“I don’t know,” Eitreen replied. “Perhaps she is miscarrying.”
“I did not even realize she was pregnant,” Dredrik replied noticing for the first time Jillian’s protruding belly. “If she had that belly three weeks ago then it fooled me.”
“She didn’t. “Eitreen said in a soothing yet stern voice, “Jillian, how long have you been pregnant?”
“Four to five weeks,” came the week reply through clenched teeth.
“That can’t be right. Your belly shows at least five to six months. Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Who’s the father?” Dredrik demanded. For the past few days he had been fighting back the same anxious feeling he experienced whenever he had found himself in close proximity to the Warlord Mareth. Feelings he had assumed came from the dark powers that surrounded the man. That thought gave him alarm now.
“Mareth,” Jillian forced. “The sorcerer Merca told me this would not be a normal pregnancy.”
Dredrik swore under his breath. Jillian was carrying the child of the man who had made it his mission to hunt down and destroy both Eertu and himself. Not that he blamed Jillian for her current state, but there it was. And now Jillian had mentioned involvement from the sorcerer that had rained down destruction upon so many. He mentally scolded himself for having let both Eertu and Anja travel with Wikkid to Mal-Karak. He could really use the expertise of one or both of them.
“Did Merca tell of any danger you were in?”
To both Eitreen and Dredrik’s surprise Jillian laughed.
“Just the opposite, he said that I would be invulnerable as long as I carried this child. He said that the child would not let me die. He must have left out the part about agonizing pains due to an abnormal pregnancy.”
“Do we have anything to help her with the pain?”
Eitreen shook her head sadly. “What we had left after Veegal’s Wall did not last long. She is just going to have to survive the five more days to Calington.”
“She cannot travel on her own in this condition. I’ll see to it that she has a spot in Arianna’s wagon before we leave in the morning. It won’t be an easy sell, but I’ll see what I can do.” He waited for Eitreen to nod an acknowledgment then left Jillian’s side.
A young man maybe twelve years of age named Alec fell instep as he strode across the camp. The lanky brown haired boy had attached himself to Dredrik shortly after Veegal’s Wall. The boy’s family was nowhere to be found though Alec claimed they all came to Veegal’s together. He quickly gave the boy the title of squire along with a list of duties to keep him occupied. In truth the only spare time he had found to spend with Eitreen was due in part to Alec’s ability to help tend to matters. If the boy’s family is never found he would not be wanting for a guardian.
“Is everything settled for tonight?”
“Yes, Sir,” the boy replied as he struggled to keep pace. “Both yours and lady Eitreen’s horses are watered and grazed, and I helped others with food and water for the younger children and wounded.”
“Nicely done,” Dredrik complemented.
The boy positively beamed at the words of praise. It did not take much to keep him happy. Then again anybody in this caravan still alive should be ecstatic.
“I may have another task for you to help with shortly. Jillian is ill and I would like for you to keep an eye on her so that Eitreen can get some sleep. Bring her my blanket. It’s going to be another chilly night.”
“Of course,” Alec replied, “anything else?”
“Just one other thing,” Dredrik said as they approached Arianna’s wagon, “but it can wait till tomorrow.”
Arianna saw them approaching and waved cheerfully. Alec waved back with equal zeal before running to Arianna’s arms. Arianna gave Alec a powerful hug before releasing him. Seemed all of the Galnathians had in some way adopted the boy.
The small joys Dredrik thought. Sometimes it’s all one had.
“Arianna, afraid I’m in need of a couple of favors.”
Arianna smiled, “You know me, whatever I can do to help.”
Dredrik braced himself for what he was about to ask. Like many of the Galnathians Arianna harbored considerable resentment toward Jillian as she was the last survivor of the raid Mareth led against the village of Galnath. “Jillian is extremely ill and needs to ride in your wagon.”
Arianna put her hands on her hips, “Anything but that.”
“Look, Arianna,” Dredrik said placing his hands on her shoulders. “I get it, and I can’t say that I blame you for the way you feel, but that woman is the only reason many of us escaped Veegal’s Wall including me and Eitreen. Not everything she did was within her power to resist.”
“It wasn’t your family and friends dying at Galnath, Dredrik. How could you understand?” Arianna yelled.
Dredrik released Arianna’s shoulders and let his hands fall to his sides. A few people passing nearby paused at the outburst but quickly continued on their way. Arianna’s eyes went wide as she realized what she had just said. Eitreen had told her in private Dredrik’s tale.
“Your right,” Dredrik said gaze focused toward the ground. “What would I know?”
“I’m sorry, that was unfair.”
“No, you’re right.” He rested his hands on his hips matching Arianna’s posture. “Is that the way the rest of the Galnathians feel?”
Arianna took a deep calming breath. “That’s not even how I truly feel. I know you have done everything you can for us and plan to take us all with you when the Lost leave Eebrook and that’s great. It gives us all hope. You just have to bear with us. We’re all strung out and frustrated. Jillian is a convenient scapegoat for that frustration. You were just convenient to vent at just then.”
“Dredrik,” Nichole said behind Dredrik, “they are close, should be at camp within ten minutes.”
“Thank you, Nichole,” Dredrik said hoping that the former assassin had not heard the entire exchange about her fellow Black Rose. Tensions were already high enough even though the rest of the sisterhood that traveled with them had nothing to do with the destruction of Galnath.
“Are we expecting company?” Arianna asked eager to jump on the change of subject. She breathed an inward sigh of relief when Dredrik went with the change.
“Nichole has been in telepathic contact with her sister Lesley for the past three days. I hadn’t announced it widely in case something came up.”
“It will be good to have Hadrenn and Vessa back with us.”
Dredrik found that statement a bit hypocritical considering Vessa was also a Black Rose, albeit also a citizen and defender of Galnath. It also did not slip his notice that Lesley was not mentioned. He chose to not bring it up. “It will,” he agreed instead. “We could use some levity around here. Thank you for your time, Arianna.”
“You mentioned a second favor,” Arianna said as Dredrik turned to leave.
Dredrik looked to find Alec keeping his distance before speaking. “I was hoping you had a long knife with your wares. Tomorrow is Alec’s birthday and I cannot have my squire running around unarmed.”
“I have just the thing. I’ll dig it out in the morning,” After a slight hesitation she added, “and I’ll carry Jillian in my wagon.”
“Thank you, Arianna.” Dredrik said bowing slightly.
. . . . .
Dredrik waited at the eastern edge of camp as three figures rode slowly toward him astride large powerful midnight black warhorses. He could already make out the features of the towering Northman leading the small progression. A broad grin lit the bearded man’s face as he urged his mount to stop.
“And here I was thinking he’s out in the wilderness with two beautiful women without a care in the world, we’re not going to see him for months.”
“Ha!” Hadrenn scoffed as he slid effortlessly from the saddle. “I think you mean freezing my arse off while being pursued through the mountains by highly irritated legionnaires with only two lethal telepathic assassins who would rather hold long distance conversations with their siblings many leagues away than give me the time of day.”
Dredrik laughed as they clasped wrists. “And you loved every minute of it.”
“I did,” Hadrenn admitted, “and if I’m to be completely honest the company was grand. It sure beat the hell out of wallowing through the mud on some battlefield with you.”
“I’ll try not to take that personally.”
“I’ve learned not to take anything Hadrenn says personally,” an attractive, athletic woman with wavy red hair wearing the customary leather armor of the Black Roses said as she stepped up next to Hadrenn.
“Vessa,” Dredrik said, “It’s good to see you again.”
“Lesley!” Nichole exclaimed as she ran past Dredrik, Hadrenn, and Vessa to embrace her twin sister. The two young women then walked into the camp chatting like long lost sisters leading Lesley’s mount as they went.
“It’s good to see a cheerful reunion like that, it gives people hope.”
“How bad was the end?” Hadrenn asked. He, Vessa, and Lesley, had slipped behind enemy lines during the siege and was unable to rejoin their comrades before the retreat. “Nichole did not pass along many details to Lesley.”
“Bad enough, once we ran out of Eertu’s enchanted ammunition things went downhill fast. Their numbers were simply too great. Once they realized we could no longer blow them into bloody little bits they rushed the walls with ladders and started forcing us from the outer wall. Once Eertu and Anja had to give up their defense of the gate it was over. Most of us were caught between the first and second walls when Mareth led his troops through the gates. Trapped we had no choice but to stand and fight. If Anja had not shattered the outer wall cutting off Mareth’s reinforcements we would have been slaughtered.”
Hadrenn thought back to his own encounter with the un-killable warrior. It was easy to imagine the destruction Mareth would have wrought against the barely trained refugee’s that defended the Fortress. “What ever happened to our good friend?”
“Dead, I kept my promise to him that I made before the siege began, however not before Jillian stabbed him in the back with an enchanted blade given to her by none-other than Lord General Kuzzak’s personal sorcerer.”
Vessa’s eyes went wide, “So she was not lying to me.”
“No, But that has not diminished tensions among the Galnathian refugees. I’m sure the two of you have some issues to work out as well.”
“We do,” Vessa agreed.
“Sorry I missed that,” Hadrenn said with meaning. He owed Mareth a lump or two. “How did she manage to bypass his personal defenses?”
“I’m not entirely sure. I suspect it had a bit to do with both Jillian’s weapon and Anja’s fascination with me. Eitreen and I should have been killed by a mage but somehow I managed to redirect the force. I’ve been trying not to dwell on it until I’ve had a chance to talk with Anja again. Speaking of which there is a situation with Jillian. Vessa, you may want to talk to Eitreen near the camp fires. The fued between you and Jillian, I would appreciate it being sidelined for the time being. ”
Vessa grabbed her horse’s reins, “Where are we storing our mounts?”
“Alec,” Dredrik called out. The young boy sprang from where he was sitting in the grass and sprinted to Dredrik’s side. “Hadrenn, Vessa, this is Alec, my new squire and a person of great help to all.”
“Milord, Milady,” Alec said bowing slightly to each in turn.
“What manners,” Vessa said surprising both Dredrik and Hadrenn by curtsying. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Hadrenn laughed as the boy blushed, “However I’m sure Hadrenn and Vessa will do.”
“Alec, could you show Vessa to Eitreen then stable her horse for the night?” Dredrik asked. “Then afterwards see to Hadrenn’s mount as well.”
The boy replied with a crisp “Yes, Milord,” as he retrieved the reins from Vessa. “Follow me please.”
Vessa gave Alec a smile and slight nod then followed after him as he wove his way through camp.
“Squire,” Hadrenn questioned, “Since when have you been a knight?”
“Since King Argile proclaimed me king of Rhonin, speaking of which congratulations, Sir Hadrenn.”
Hadrenn laughed, “Now I know there is ale in this camp.”
“It’s no joke. You, Wikkid, Eertu, and a few of the Dread Legion will be officially knighted once we reach Rhonin. Yes I know you are not officially one of the Lost but none of this happens without your help. If nothing else it will make a great tale if you ever return to the far north.”
“That it would,” Hadrenn agreed. “Where is my short hairy friend?” he asked suddenly realizing Wikkid was not present to greet him.
“Wikkid took Anja and Eertu to Mal-Karak. It seems that Lord Kuzzak has been courting Dwarven aid while his sorcerer secretly seeks out some magical stone the Dwarves have been protecting.”
“How did we find this out?”
“One dying malevolent being ratting out a rival,” Dredrik replied. “We believe Mareth was telling the truth. Wikkid says that the Alminthium Stone is a highly guarded secret locked away deep within the Dwarven city state.”
Hadrenn tried but failed to stifle a yawn. “Don’t we ever get good news anymore?”
“Well, as best we can tell Anja’s departing gift may have crippled Lord General Kuzzak’s ability to assault past Veegal’s Wall. If Wikkid and company are successful what remains of Eebrook may be saved.”
“Now that is something.”
Chapter 3
Lord General Kuzzak watched from the wrecked remains of Montrel’s battlements as an army numbering over thirty-thousand marched toward them and wondered if this was how the cities former ruler, Duke Harriman, had felt when his own army marched to take the city. A feeling of dread washed over him as he made out the yellow on black banners carried at the formations forefront. This was not an army arrayed against him but it was one led by a rival nevertheless. He had raced his own army across the ocean in an attempt to claim the greater portion of the spoils but fate had dealt his plans a serious blow at Veegal’s Wall. Now he’d have to deal with this smug individual from a weakened hand.
Without a word he made his way down the stairs along the back side of the wall leading to what was once the city’s main gate, his captains following silently at a distance. No sooner had he reached the base of the steps and rounded the edge of the gateway than the lead riders of the approaching army sped forward. In a matter of moments the riders had closed the distance slowing to a stop a couple of paces from where he stood. He could sense his captains taking an involuntary step back as the powerful beasts snorted and stomped while their masters worked to calm them down. The lead rider removed her helmet allowing her long raven black hair to spill out over her shoulders.
“Sister,” Kuzzak said grabbing the warhorse’s bridle.
“Brother,” the woman returned as she slid gracefully from the beast. “It is good to see you again.”
“I doubt that, Bethany, but welcome to Montrel.”
Bethany smiled. She expected no less from her brother.
“You were always one to be direct Jaymond.”
“I suppose you and your men are looking for food and billets.”
“For me and my officers yes, but only for the night. From what I hear you have managed to clear the way for my army to invade western Eebrook and I plan to take advantage of that. It’s a shame your armies are in no shape to march with us. I think you will find my strategy interesting.”
“Gloat all you want, sister, but you to will find that the strength and resolve of the people here are far greater than our intelligence reports led us to believe. Not to mention there is magic here to rival our own peoples.”
“There is more than one way to conquer a nation dear brother. I personally would like to avoid destroying my future realm.”
Jaymond laughed. “Then what shall you do, ride to Calington and ask them to simply hand over rule to you?”
By now all the riders had dismounted and servants where seeing to their mounts and personal effects. Jaymond began to lead them into the city toward his keep.
“Not exactly but close,” Bethany said falling into step beside her brother. “While you were manipulating the dreams of King Argile I had my own people put into position to control his heir. Not only am I and my armies expected, we will be welcomed with open arms by the new King Argile and I have you to thank for it.”
“We were to share these lands equally, sister, father decreed it.”
“That was before your hasty departure. Speaking of father he expects tithes to begin flowing toward home soon. I suggest you get your kingdom straightened out before father decides you are unfit to rule.”
Jaymond motioned for his personal assistant. “My servants will see to your needs and that of your officers as I have pressing matters to attend to.”
“I’m sure you do,” Bethany said smiling at her brother’s irritation.
Rage burned inside Jaymond as Bethany flashed him her best smile. It was smug, cocky, and mocking. He bowed slightly then exited with as much grace as he could muster. So Bethany would challenge him. If she managed to secure western Eebrook with her armies intact and that of the Eebrookian lords then there would be no stopping her from turning her gaze back toward Montrel. Merca’s success at Mal-Karak was now more important than ever. If he could bring the Dwarves into the fold he would find himself back on equal footing with his overly ambitious sister.
Chapter 4
“You are never going to believe this,” Eertu said as he paced back and forth in the guest dining room of house Makahvis.
Anja and Wikkid both sat at the table waiting for Eertu to get to the point while Grimwald poured himself a pint. Anja had not been idle while Eertu was exploring Mal-Karak. She had raided the Makahvis library for any history tome she could find and spent her time digging for facts.
“Lad, calm down and tell me what you found,” Wikkid said.
Eertu stopped pacing and plopped down across from Anja. “Every time I felt as if I was getting close to the source it would move. This went on until a few hours ago when I saw it, Dwarven soldiers patrolling with a Cerberus. That’s right I’ve spent the last five days tracking down a three headed dog.”
“His name is sparky,” Grimwald said casually as he slid into the seat next to Eertu sliding a pint of ale in the warlock’s direction, “patriarch of the Mal-Karak kennel.”
“How many of those things are there?” Anja asked in amazement. “How big are they, how do they walk, eat, or function with three heads?”
“Easily the size of a cow only wider and more muscular,” Eertu answered excitedly. “As far as how it functions I did not follow it around that long...”
“They are magical,” Wikkid said. “Sparky has been patriarch for nearly thirty years now. They named him sparky because he can shoot lightening from the eyes of each of his heads.”
“A magical three headed beast the size of a cow,” Anja pondered. “Sounds like the perfect guardian for a Magical Amulet.”
Eertu’s eyes went wide as a thought came to him. “Does anybody know what this amulet looks like?”
Anja began to flip through the pages of one of the many tomes spread out before her. “As a matter of fact I do.” She turned the tome around so that it was right side up to Eertu.”
Eertu groaned and banged his head against the table. “This just keeps getting better and better.”
Anja reached over and patted Eertu on the head. “Whatever it is we’ll sort it out.”
“It’s on Sparky’s collar.”
Grimwald shrugged then drank deeply from his mug. “I don’t see the problem. Nobody is going to be stealing from ole Sparky.”
“The problem is we cannot leave it here,” Wikkid said. “If Mal-Karak sides with Kuzzak Sparky and his kin will be set loose against the men of Eebrook with the amulet powering his abilities to untold heights, or so that’s the legend.”
“It’s no more than they deserve,” Grimwald argued. “There never has been an official truce. As far as the council is concerned we are still in the middle of a seven-hundred year war.”
“Kuzzak can’t be trusted, and the men of Eebrook are an adversary we know. Which would you rather have left to contend with?”
“With or without Sparky, the combined forces of Dwarves and Kuzzak’s legions would be too much. If that’s the way the council votes why would one want to eliminate an advantage that would save untold hundreds, or are you turning your back on Dwarven kind as many have claimed for years?”
Wikkid pounded his fist against the table. “I’m not turning my back on anybody, but the battlefield would just give Kuzzak’s sorcerer more opportunities to steal the amulet. The best thing now is to stop our people from marching to war, but as a backup we need to get the amulet out of here and as far away from Merca as possible.”
“Merca is already extremely powerful,” Anja explained. “If he gets his hands on the amulet with his ambition he could lead a revolt that would put magic wielders in control of the world.”
“And we don’t mean as benevolent rulers. It would lead to the enslavement of all mundanes.” Eertu added.
“That’s why the paladins locked it away in ancient times,” Anja said flipping through another tome until she came to the passage she was looking for. “Even with their limited magical powers they were afraid what a rogue paladin could do with it.” She slid the book to Grimwald. “That is the account of events given by the humans that brought the Alminthium stone to Mal-Karak.”
They waited patiently while Grimwald read through the passages. After reading he took another drink and closed the book. “So after we steal it, what do we do with it? Hide it in yet another hole, destroy it?”
“We are going to take it across the ocean until we can figure out how to rid ourselves of it.” Wikkid answered.
“Across the ocean?”
“I am leaving Mal-Karak and Eebrook with the Lost. Considering what is about to happen I recommend that this entire house be ready to leave.”
“Unless you can stop Mal-Karak from marching to the aid of Lord Kuzzak,” Grimwald countered.”
“No,” Wikkid said. “Either way I’m leaving with the lost. If this house is not destroyed by what happens here I’ll be leaving it all to you.”
“Like hell you are,” Grimwald spat. “You’re not leaving me behind again while you go off on another grand adventure.”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Eertu said. “We can argue about who’s going where after we have secured the stone. So how do we get Sparky’s jewelry away from him?”
“We need to speak to Muirc,” Wikkid said.
Grimwald shook his head. “That crazy bastard, if you think he was off his rocker before you left you’ve not seen anything yet. They even booted him and his followers from the city proper to keep him from disturbing the peace with his experiments.”
“That may be,” Wikkid countered, “but he’s always had a way with the hounds.”
“Alright, I’ll take you all to him, but I need another one of these first,” Grimwald said holding up his mug.
. . . . .
For Eertu the march through Mal-Karak was surreal. Wikkid’s first time into the streets in twenty years was met with cheers and a sense of awe among the city’s older residents. It seems that Wikkid had been a very important and popular figure among his people. They had to stop periodically to allow Wikkid to have brief conversations in the terse Dwarven language with what appeared to be admirers. Not for the first time since arriving Eertu wished he had an opportunity to learn Dwarven.
Wikkid had dressed for the occasion in ancestral mail armor reinforced with sections of steel plate on the chest and shoulders. The chest piece was adorned with the same anvil with crossing two headed axes as the steel door at the rear of the Makavhis estate. Whatever reservations Wikkid had about keeping his arrival a secret were obviously gone now as his current attire announced his arrival better than a herald walking ahead crying to the public.
Eertu found it hard to fathom the life Wikkid had given up to roam the wilds with the Lost for the past twenty years. It would be hard for him to walk away from such standing and luxury. If things went according to plan Wikkid was about to walk away from this life forever.
Eventually Grimwald led them into a tunnel on the outskirts of the city proper lit sparsely by light stones of much lower quality than those used within Mal-Karak. The faint sound of thunder seemed to echo from within repeating in quick succession before falling quiet again. After a few moments the same pattern repeated itself.
“That cannot be thunder,” Eertu observed.
“No,” Grimwald replied. “A few years back Muirc with the aid of likeminded lunatics came up with some kind of powder that he claimed could be used to destroy rock to help with mining and tunneling. He also claimed it could be used in the production of a weapon, as you could imagine that got the attention of the Council. However a few mishaps in the development process got him booted out here. The thunder you are hearing is the igniting of the powder.”
“Exactly what went wrong?” Anja asked.
“Muirc went before the council to give a small demonstration. He miscalculated and blew a huge crater into the floor of the council chamber. He was ordered to either stop his experiments or move his house from the city. Some folks have taken to calling him Muirc the mad.”
“Is he?” Anja asked.
“Mad? No, I think he knows exactly what he is doing. Which if you ask me is scarier than if he was.”
Three more times thunder echoed through the tunnel each round louder than the last as they made their way through the narrow passage. A new strange smell assaulted their senses accompanied by eye stinging smoke.
Finally they rounded a corner to find the tunnel opening up into a huge cavern. A dozen plus dwarves were lined up behind a row of chest high, for a dwarf, rock benches each carrying an unusual weapon with a wooden stock similar to a cross bow but attached to a long metal tube. Down range were three target dummies similar to what an archer might use. The dwarf in the middle issued a series of terse commands prompting each dwarf to shoulder their weapon.
Grimwald covered his ears, the rest of the party followed suit.
The dwarf Eertu assumed was Muirc barked another command. Fire and smoke belched forth from the tips of the weapons as once again the sound of thunder reverberated through the cavern. The straw dummies were shredded.
“Muirc,” Wikkid yelled as the echo died. When none of the dwarves responded Wikkid marched closer, “Muirc!”
The dwarf that had been barking orders spun around as if startled. Even through his thick black beard they could tell his face was covered in a sooty black film. He flashed a broad smile revealing teeth similarly coated by the dark substance. “Wikkid, as I live and breathe, never thought I’d see your mug around here again!”
“I’d been thinking the same thing to be honest,” Wikkid agreed.
“So it’s true what they say then. You can take the dwarf out of the mountain eh?”