The Dragons of Ash and Smoke (Tales from the New Earth Book 5) (11 page)

More
than one councilor laughed at that statement and Stanis looked
amused.

“
I
don't know the root causes of your distrust of magic-users, but I'm
sure you have your reasons. I can't just tell you to trust me and
expect you to do so; that would be foolish on both our parts. All I
can do to reassure you of my good intentions is to ask that you weigh
me on my deeds, not my words. Your king,” he glanced at Stanis,
“has told you about my battles with the primals. He may have
put more weight on my involvement in these clashes than I would have,
but he is essentially correct. I've tried my best to stop those
monsters from destroying what is left of the human race, and I intend
to keep on doing that until they are all destroyed, or I am. I hope
that will at least show you that I only seek to help and not to
harm.”

“
Well
said!” an old councilor sitting to the right of the throne
spoke up heartily. “Well said indeed. Actions, not words,
impress our people, sir wizard. And your actions have at all times
been honorable.”

“
I
agree,” Stanis said as he stood up. Simon jumped to his feet
instinctively and the king waved him back to his seat with a smile.

“
I
was impressed by this young man from the first moment we met, when we
confronted the primal black dragon. Do you remember that, my friend?”

Simon
had to laugh.

“
How
could I forget? When you and your group popped out of the ground in
that drilling machine, you scared me half to death.”

There
were amused chuckles from many of the councilors.

“
Well,
you impressed me that day as well,” Stanis told him with a firm
nod. “A skinny boy standing up to one of the legendary primals?
And winning? Oh, I knew that there were great things in store for
you, my friend. And I was correct, as we all know. So, councilors,”
he continued and looked at the dwarves around his throne. “What
say you now? I have named Simon O'Toole as dwarf kin and reaffirm
that title and commitment again. What is your opinion?”

“
I
say that you were right to do so, my lord,” Ulanda said as she
rose to her feet. “My sword, my shield, my blood defend him
from those who would be counted his enemies.”

One
by one, every dwarf stood up. One or two seemed reluctant and Simon
noticed that the king took note of them, but in the end all of the
council was on their feet.

“
So
be it,” Stanis said when everyone had risen. “My sword,
my shield, my blood I offer in your defense, sir wizard, as I would
to one of my own. You are kin to us now.” He smiled and shook a
finger at Simon. “Don't embarrass us out in the world when you
leave.”

Simon
was staring open-mouthed and speechless at this display. When the
silence had stretched on uncomfortably long, Opheilla poked him in
the ribs and he yelped.

“
Say
something, for the gods sake,” she hissed at him.

“
Oh!
Right. Um, okay then.” He stood up and bowed awkwardly to all
of them. “My...my sword, my shield and my blood I offer to
defend the dwarves from their enemies. I swear it.”

He
stood there, not really knowing what else to say, and then looked at
the cleric. She had stood up as well and began clapping, a huge smile
on her face. Apparently, he had made the proper response.

The
entire council, including the king, began applauding and there were
shouts of delight mixed in with it. Stanis looked proudly down at
Simon and gave him a subtle wink.

When
the room quieted, the council took their seats again, but the king
remained standing.

“
Opheilla,
I can see how tiring this has been on your patient. I think that it
is time he was back in bed.”

There
were two broad steps at the front of the dais and Stanis walked
forward and down until he was standing in front on Simon. He reached
into a pocket of his tunic and brought out something that glittered.
He offered it to the wizard.

“
My
friend, I noticed that you somehow lost the medallion I gave you, the
symbol of the friendship between you and my people. So here, take
this one and wear it always. It will identify you as dwarf kin to any
of my kind that you may meet in your travels when you leave us.”

He
lowered his voice as Simon took the chain and slipped it over his
head, the heavy black medallion swinging freely against his chest.

“
And
for the Light's sake,” Stanis whispered. “Don't lose this
one!”

And
he stepped back and grinned up at the wizard.

“
Thank
you, my lord,” Simon said and he gripped the black metal amulet
tightly in his fist. “I won't. And thank you all,” he
added, raising his voice, “for your friendship. If ever you
need my aid, call on me and I will be here. I promise.”

“
Good.
Now, back to bed with you, young wizard,” Stanis told him
sternly, but with a glint of humor in his eyes. “It wouldn't do
to have you fall flat on your face in front of the council.”

Simon
bowed and turned away, letting Opheilla lead the way back across the
chamber. He was exhausted but elated as well. It had been a good day.

“
I
still can't believe you didn't tell me,” Simon said as he sat
up in bed, taking notes.

Several
days had passed and the wizard was starting to feel strong enough to
be restless. Opheilla had distracted him by speaking to the head
scribe of the dwarven archives, who had dug up a pile of old scrolls
on magical theory. She had presented Simon with these and he had
dived in with delight. The scrolls were written in the ancient
language of magic, which he could somehow read. He still found that a
bit creepy but didn't bother questioning it anymore.

“
About
what?” the cleric asked as she put a hand on his forehead.

He
pulled away irritably.

“
About
Stanis being king, that's what. I walked into that meeting scared to
death and then I find out that I had nothing to worry about after
all.”

Opheilla
stood back and stared at him, hands on her hips.

“
Do
you really think that being a friend of the king guaranteed you a
warm reception from the council? I assure you it didn't.”

Simon
stopped copying a spell that he had never heard of called Shatter and
looked up at the cleric.

“
It
didn't? But, they did end up being friendly, right?”

Opheilla
sat down beside the bed with a weary sigh and smiled wanly.

“
Some
of them, yes. But I've spoken with Stanis since the meeting and there
are still several councilors who hold little love for you, and never
will. Their prejudice against magic-users simply runs too deep. They
would dislike you no matter who you were or how fond the king was of
you.”

“
Well,
that's just sad,” Simon replied and picked up the vellum sheet
that he was using to copy out the spells he'd discovered. “You'd
think my winning personality alone would have endeared me to them.”

The
cleric snorted a laugh and stood up.

“
You'd
think. At any rate, hurry up with your copying. I have decided to
declare you healed, young wizard. Tomorrow is moving day. You are
going home.”

Simon
dropped the sheet of paper and gaped at her.

“
What?”
he asked weakly.

“
You
heard me. You've lolled around here long enough. The world needs you,
and your friends must be anxious to see you again.”

“
You
really mean it?” Simon asked plaintively. “You aren't
just pulling my chain?”

Opheilla
walked to the door and looked back at him.

“
I
have no idea what that means, but yes, I really mean it. So learn
what you can from that pile of dusty scrolls today. You won't be
allowed to take them with you when you leave.”

She
turned to go and Simon called her back.

“
But
how? How am I leaving? I can't cast any spells inside the city.
Whatever your people use to dampen my magic won't let me.”

“
I'll
be taking you to the city's edge,” she answered with a smile at
his eagerness. “A patrol will meet us at the front gates and
take you far enough away to allow you to Gate back home. However,”
she added, becoming serious, “if you don't feel up to it, the
king has offered to have you transported home via one of our drilling
machines.”

“
That's
okay. I'm good. But please thank him for me, would you? I don't
suppose I'll see him before I leave?”

“
I'm
afraid not,” she told him with some regret. “He's off
again, checking on our borders. Being king isn't all pomp and
circumstance, at least for my people. Stanis rarely sits still for
more than a few hours. It's fortunate that he's under two hundred. We
needed a young king in these dark times.”

She
gave Simon a final smile and slipped out of the room.

The
wizard stared at the closed door. Stanis is under two hundred years
old? Good God, how long do dwarves live, he thought with wonder, when
someone was considered young at that age?

He
shrugged and picked up the vellum again. He needed to decide which of
these new spells was useful and copy them before he left, and time
was running out.

The
next day, Simon was up early, too excited to sleep. He had discovered
a handful of new spells that had potential and hoped that they would
prove useful in the future. Besides the Shatter spell, he'd been
delighted to find two new offensive spells; Lava Lash and Fire Imp.
They sounded intriguing. There was an odd spell called Fairy Dust
that he had found as well. He had no idea what it did, but the name
alone was ridiculous enough to make him want to try casting it.
Lastly, an ominous spell simply called Blind seemed to be useful. He
wondered if it actually made people sightless permanently or just for
a short time. He might find out one day, but it was a horrible
thought and he doubted that he would ever use it.

Opheilla
arrived with breakfast and a sturdy backpack for Simon to carry his
meager belongings in.

He
ate quickly as the cleric watched, amused, as he rushed his meal.
When he was almost finished, Opheilla packed his few robes and
assorted toiletries into the backpack, added the small pile of vellum
sheets that he'd copied his new spells on and left it on the bed.

Simon
had already washed up and put on a clean robe. He'd chosen a cheerful
blue one because of his upbeat mood.

Once
he'd finished eating, he set aside the tray, stood up and grabbed the
backpack. He slipped it over his shoulders and made sure that it was
settled on to his back comfortably. Then he picked up his staff,
turned to look at the cleric and smiled at her.

“
So,
how do I look?” he asked.

She
looked him up and down and nodded in approval.

“
Excellent,
my friend. Really good. Now that you are healed, I must say that
there were times, early on, when I despaired for your life. Your soul
struggled to free itself from your broken body and it was only your
strong will that kept you connected to this world.”

“
Really?
You never told me that!”

“
There
was no reason to. You needed encouragement and I did what I could to
provide that. And now look at you. Whole and sound of body and mind.
Ready to carry on with your life. No healer could be prouder of a
patient than I am of you.”

Simon
felt himself tearing up a bit and had to clear his throat several
times before he could answer.

“
And
no patient ever had a more dedicated healer than you, Opheilla. I owe
you and your people my life and I will never forget that. I meant
what I said to the king and council and it applies to you as well; if
you need me, call me and I will be here. I swear it.”

The
cleric stepped forward and took his free hand in both of hers.

“
I
know that, my friend, as does the king. The same applies to us, you
know.” She tapped the medallion on his chest through his robe.
“You are our kin. If you or your people need our help, you
simply have to ask.”