The Wealth of Kings (19 page)

He looked up and saw that the mound of crystals was now buried in stone. The other miners were dead, but the demon was walking toward Lemi, and it was angry. Lemi’s last thought was how far the demon could make it through the tunnels before someone could stop it. Then a massive, clawed foot came down and crushed the life out of him.

*****

Al closed his eyes.

He placed a hand on Alferug’s cold chest and then patted his friend affectionately before moving to take his place at the pulpit. The bodyguards took up their protective positions, and began admitting those invited to the funeral rite. Al watched as the other members of the council entered the room, followed by Alferug’s immediate and extended family. Alferug’s wife had passed on twenty years before, but his children and their families still remained. There were also cousins, nieces and nephews, and a host of grandchildren, great grandchildren, and other descendants. The room was filled within minutes.

Al looked down, hoping somehow that Alferug would yet rise from his coffin and apologize for causing everyone to worry. He knew that wouldn’t happen, but he couldn’t help but wish for it.

The doors closed then, echoing throughout the shrine and signaling that it was time for Al to begin.

He looked out at the crowd and then he turned his eyes to the four half-columns. He then glanced down to Alferug and offered a sincere smile to his departed friend.

“As king,” Al began. “It is incumbent upon me to give a rote speech during the funeral rites. I am to talk about how we were formed from the stone in Roegudok Hall, and thus when we die we shall return to what gave us life, thereby completing a cycle. However, when I look at Alferug, my dearest friend inside the mountain, I cannot recite the words. They feel hollow, and I think all of you would agree with me when I say that that wouldn’t be good enough for Alferug Henezard.” Al pointed to the four half-columns. “Look to those columns and you will see a single rune carved into each one. Honor. Truth. Courage. Duty.” Al took a breath and nodded his head as he let the crowd glance at the pillars for a moment.

“Alferug Henezard exemplified each of those traits. He lived his life with honor. He sought for, and cherished the truth. His sense of duty was unfailing, as I can attest, having seen him when he was exiled. He remained close to Roegudok Hall even then, when my brother shunned him and banished him from the mountain. He did this because he truly cared about each and every dwarf in this mountain. No one can question his courage either. He not only helped me confront Threnton, but he also gave his life for mine when Threnton and a group of assassins attacked me in my bedchamber.”

Al felt a tear fall from his eye, but he made no move to wipe it from his face. “I am proud to have called him friend. I am honored to have benefitted from his mentoring. I am hopeful, that I will live up to his legacy. I would go so far as to say we likely all feel the same way.”

Al reached into the shelf at the back of the pulpit and pulled a crystal bell.

“It is said, that this was the first crystal mined from Roegudok Hall. If we are to believe the books of the kings, this crystal was found the day the first prince was born in Roegudok Hall. It was fashioned into a bell, to be rung whenever a dwarf dies in Roegudok Hall.” Al rang the bell once. It’s sharp, delicate sound reverberated through the chamber. “We ring the bell to announce to the mountain that another dwarf’s body is returning home to the womb that created him.” Al rang the bell again. “We ring the bell to announce to Nage that a noble dwarf spirit is ready to cross over the rainbow bridge and take his place in Volganor, the Heaven City.” Al rang the bell once more. “We ring the bell so that the departed may know we have not forgotten them.”

The adults in the audience produced small, brass bells of their own. In unison, they repeated the ritual with Al. They rang their bells the first time, the sounds and pitches mixing and mingling. They spoke the same words Al had spoken. When the ritual was completed, the dwarves rose and filtered out of the shrine.

Al placed the crystal bell back onto the shelf and waited until all of the others had exited the shrine, then he moved down and closed the stone casket. A team of dwarves led by the mortician, all dressed in black robes, pushed a long, four-wheeled cart.

“We are ready to move him into the catacombs,” the mortician said.

“Rest well, my friend,” Al told Alferug. “Keep a watchful eye on us from above.”

Al stayed in the shrine for a couple of hours after they had wheeled Alferug’s body away, sitting on the first pew in the room and staring at the mural painted on the wall behind the pulpit. He would have stayed there for the remainder of the day, except there was a terrible commotion that erupted outside the shrine.

Al rose to his feet, but the bodyguards were first to the door.

“What is it?” Al asked.

One of the body guards signaled for the others to protect Al, then he turned to the king. “I will go and see, Sire. Please, stay here.”

The bodyguard disappeared out through the door, but it didn’t take long for Al to understand what was happening. He heard a loud, terrible roar that nearly shook the stone walls of the mountain.

“We have woken a demon,” Al said. He looked to his guards, “Come, we must protect our people!”

Year 2, Age of Demigods

301
st
year of the reign of Sylus Magdinium, 5
th
King of Roegudok Hall.

Sylus coughed and pulled the wool blanket tighter around his shoulders as he struggled to keep his hand from shaking. He had to finish writing his book. It had been over two years since he had last seen Tu’luh. The dwarf folk were recovering slowly from the heavy casualties they suffered in the deeper mines, but there was prosperity to be had for all.

Mine thirty-seven had been closed off with the large mithril portcullis and the tunnel leading to the giant chamber had been collapsed by the hand of a dozen explosives engineers. The bloodgrass had died and was no longer growing in Roegudok Hall. The lurkers and demons no longer assaulted the dwarves, and the tunnels that remained open were safe.

Yet Sylus was plagued by dreams in the night.

He saw the bloodgrass returning. He saw a future king opening the mithril portcullis and reawakening the demons sleeping in the great depths of the lower tunnels. He saw blood and destruction returning to his people. For this cause, he penned a special book. In it, he spoke of his plight with the demons and lurkers. He warned against trusting the Ancients, and he all but forbade reopening the lower mines.

Sylus sighed as he pulled his shaking hand back from the page. He set his pen down into the inkwell and reached for a cobalt blue bottle with a cork stopper. He pulled the stopper free and drank half of the bottle’s contents. The cool liquid tingled as it slid down his throat. Then, a few seconds later, his stomach burned. Sylus gripped the edge of the desk as the burning spread through his entire body. He hated the medicine, but he knew it was the only thing keeping the tremors at bay. As the burning moved into his arm, his hand ceased to shake. His mind cleared, and he was once again able to create the delicate runes of the dwarven language.

It had taken him the better part of a month to write about the dangers of mine thirty-seven. As he finished describing the horrors he had witnessed, he began to have a new kind of nightmare. He saw the well go dry, leaving the dwarves of Roegudok Hall without water. Then he saw the gold, silver, mithril, and gems disappear from the mines. He saw the aftermath of a great war in the Middle Kingdom. Worse than that, he saw that the only way for Roegudok Hall to restore its wealth, and save its people from starvation, would be to reopen the mine where his sons had perished.

He saw the king who would find mine thirty-seven, and noted that bloodgrass would return to the mountain weeks before this future king would stumble into the bowels of Terramyr, and thus awaken the demons. No matter how hard he tried to focus on his visions, he could never see beyond the point that the future king opened the mithril portcullis set deep within the mines.

He feared for Roegudok Hall greatly. Even in his prime, with thousands of warriors under his command and enough treasure to supply every desire, they had failed to conquer the deeper mines. If the future king would rule during a time of famine when the dwarves were recovering from a massive war, how could they hope to prevail?

Sylus finished the book that morning, wrapped in his woolen blanket.

He ended it with a warning.

“Beware not to squander dwarven blood; it is far more precious than treasure,” Sylus said aloud as he penned the runes onto the page. He sat back from the book and sighed. He could only hope the book would survive long enough to reach the king who would need it.

A knock came at the door.

Sylus called out and said, “Come in.”

The door opened and in walked a stout, muscular dwarf with black hair and a long beard. “You wanted to see me, Sire?” the dwarf asked.

Sylus smiled and nodded his head. “I do indeed, Kizpa.”

Kizpa moved into the bedchamber and bowed to his king. “What can I do for you?”

Sylus stood slowly upon his feet and pushed the chair away. He slid the blanket off of his shoulders and moved to the right side of his desk. His left hand went down, grasping the handle of Murskain. He lifted the hammer with a bit of effort and held it out for Kizpa.

Kizpa looked to him with a furrowed brow, his green eyes glancing from the king to the weapon. His mouth opened to ask a question, but Sylus spoke first.

“Your father served me well as a captain in the army,” Sylus said. “He served valiantly until the great battle with the demons.”

Kizpa nodded reverently.

Sylus continued. “Your brother serves me now, making medicine that keep my body strong after the demon’s poison entered my blood from the wounds I received in battle. Without his aid, I would have died weeks ago.”

Again, Kizpa nodded.

“And then, there is you,” Sylus said with a smile on his face. “You remind me of my son, Ravik. You act like him, and you think like him.” Sylus pressed the hammer into Kizpa’s chest. “Take it,” Sylus commanded.

Kizpa took Murskain in his hands and studied the weapon. “It is magnificent, my king,” he said.

Sylus nodded. “It is the symbol of the protector of Roegudok Hall,” he said. “As I am without any sons, and you are without father, I am hereby adopting you into my line.”

Kizpa’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Sire, there are dwarves better than me—”

Sylus shook his head and narrowed his eyes on Kizpa. “You have been my personal servant since the battle with the demons. You know everything about ruling the mountain. You accompany me to court. You have seen how to govern the needs of the people. You shall succeed me when I die. I have already announced this to the counselors.” Sylus pulled a rolled parchment from his pocket and held it out for Kizpa. “Kizpa Sit’marihu, you shall be the sixth king of Roegudok Hall. From that day forward, the crown shall be passed down to your heirs. I expect you to train them well, as I have trained you.”

Kizpa nodded, but the expression on his face displayed his lack of confidence. “Sire, I don’t think I can do this. I have been with you only a short while. It would take much more time to prepare me for this.”

Sylus stretched his hand out and placed it upon Kizpa’s shoulder. “I have constructed a secret library down the hall. There, I will place all of the knowledge and resources you shall need to rule effectively. Moreover, it will serve as an excellent means of tutoring your heirs and preparing them to one day take the crown.” Sylus turned to his left and indicated the book he had just finished. “I will place this in there as well. It is a book describing the mines, and the dark omens preceded by the bloodgrass. I want you to promise me that you will ensure it is kept safely in the library.”

Kizpa nodded. “I promise.”

Sylus nodded back and smiled. “Promise me two more things,” he said.

“You have only but to ask, and I shall do anything,” Kizpa replied.

“The first, is I would have you promise to place a stone tablet in mine thirty-seven. I want it displayed in front of the mithril portcullis, so that any who find the gate can plainly see the warning.”

“What shall I write upon the tablet?”

“Beware not to squander dwarven blood, it is far more precious than treasure,” Sylus said.

Kizpa nodded.

“The second demand I have is that you ensure our people are never enslaved by the Ancients again. Throw out their traditions and religion. We can never go back to cowering under their wings, do you understand.”

Kizpa hesitated at this, but he nodded his head and promised to do as the king instructed.

Sylus smiled and then looked back to the book. “Take this book. Read it. Once you have finished reading it, we will place it in the library.”

Kizpa moved to reach for the book and took it in hand. He read the rune on the cover. “The Wealth of Kings,” he said aloud.

Sylus held up a finger. “That rune on the cover also has a second meaning,” he said.

Kizpa cocked his head to the side and nodded. “Duty,” he said. “The Duty of Kings.”

Sylus nodded. “The king that seeks for the treasure in the mines below must weigh the need for treasure against the duty to protect the dwarves of Roegudok Hall. That is why I chose this particular rune. Be sure that your heir understands this.”

“Of course, my king.”

For the next forty-eight years, Kizpa shadowed Sylus everywhere, learning all he could about ruling Roegudok Hall. When Sylus finally succumbed to the demon’s poison in his veins, Kizpa took the throne with every intention of following Sylus’ instructions to the letter. However, as time passed under the reign of the sixth king of Roegudok Hall, the library Sylus built was sealed away. The book he wrote, The Wealth of Kings, was secreted away inside a large desk in the library. Kizpa thought it wiser to hide the knowledge of the book, rather than tempt any future king with the rumored treasures in mine thirty-seven.

The truth of The Wealth of Kings faded into legend. Then, over the centuries that dragged on into eons, legend became myth, and myth faded to rumors until all within the mountain forgot the truth of mine thirty-seven.