Margaret Weis - Dragons of The Dwarven Depths

Hornfel sank to his knees. He was afraid now. They were all afraid. One by one, the soldiers in the hall went down on their knees onto the stone floor. The Thanes followed, until only Realgar was standing, and at last, even he knelt, though it was obvious he hated every moment of it. The tremor ceased. The mountain was still.

Tanis glanced around swiftly to make sure everyone was all right. Sturm knelt on one knee, his arm raised in salute, as knight to royalty. Raistlin remained standing, balancing on his staff, his face and his thoughts hidden in the shadows of his cowl. Caramon had whipped off his helm. He was still keeping hold of Tasslehoff, who was saying wistfully, “I wish Fizban was here to see this!” Tanis shifted his attention back to Flint, wondering what was going to come of this. Nothing good, he thought grimly.

The silence was so absolute it seemed that Tanis could hear the sound of the rock dust sifting to the floor.

Hornfel spoke again, his voice unsteady. “Your brothers confessed their crime before they died, Prince Grallen. Though they did not kill you, they held themselves responsible for your death.”

“And so they were,” said the prince balefully. “I was the youngest, my father’s favorite. They feared he would overlook them, leaving the rulership of Thorbardin to me. While it is true their hands did not deal my death blow, yet by their hands I died.

“I was young. I was fighting in my first battle. My elder brothers vowed to watch over and protect me. Instead they sent me to my doom. They ordered me to march with a small force on the fortress of Zhaman, the evil wizard’s stronghold. I did what they told me. How not? I loved them and admired them. I longed to impress them. My own men tried to warn me. They told me the mission was suicidal, but I would not heed them. I trusted my brothers, who said that my men lied, the battle was as good as won. I was to have the honor of capturing the wizard and bringing him back in chains.

“They gifted me with this helm, saying that it would make me invincible. They knew the truth—the helm would not make me invincible. Crafted by the Theiwar, the magic of the gem would capture my soul and keep it imprisoned so that even my vengeful ghost would not return to tell the truth of what happened.”

“Your brothers were ashamed of what they had done, noble prince,” said Hornfel. “They admitted their guilt to Kharas and then hurled themselves to their death in battle. Your father grieved when the bitter news was brought to him. He did what he could to make amends. He raised a statue in your honor and built a tomb for you. He buried your brothers in an unmarked grave.”

“And yet, my father never again spoke my name,” said Prince Grallen.

“Your noble father blamed himself, Your Highness. He could not bear to be reminded of the tragedy. ‘Three sons I lost,’ he said. ‘One in battle and two to darkness.’

“In truth, you have no need to curse us, great prince,” Hornfel added bitterly. “The throne where once your father sat as High King has been empty since his death. The Hammer of Kharas is lost to us. We do not even have the solace of paying homage at your father’s tomb, for some terrible force wrenched it out of the earth, and now it hangs suspended high above the Valley of the Thanes. There the tomb of our High King floats, out of reach, forever a punishment and a reproach to us.

“Our nation is divided and soon, I fear, we must end up in a civil war. I do not know what more harm you can do to us, Prince Grallen,” Hornfel said, “unless you bring the mountain down on top of us.”

“Whew, boy!” Tasslehoff whistled. “Could Flint really do that? Bring down the mountain?”

“Shush!” Tanis ordered, and his expression was so very fierce that Tasslehoff shushed.

“There was a time when I would have taken out my vengeance upon you, but my soul has learned much over the centuries.”

Flint’s voice softened. He gave a sigh, and the hand that was clenched in a fist relaxed. “I have learned to forgive.”

Flint rose slowly to his feet.

“My brothers’ spirits have gone on to the next part of their life’s journey. My father’s soul has done the same, and with him traveled the soul of the noble Kharas. Soon I will join them, for I am now free of the cruel enchantment that bound me.

“Before I leave, I give you a gift—a warning. False Metal has returned, but so have Reorx and the other gods. The gate of Thorbardin is once more open. The light of the sun shines into the mountain. Shut the gate again, shut out the light, and the darkness will consume you.”

“This is an act,” Realgar muttered. “Can’t you fools see that?”

“Shut your mouth, or I will shut it for you!” said Tufa. The Klar still held his knife in his hand.

“We thank you, Prince Grallen,” Hornfel said respectfully. “We will take heed of your words.” Arman Kharas rose to his feet. “Is this all you have to tell us, Prince Grallen? Do you not have some word for me?”

“My son, be silent!” Hornfel admonished.

“The prince has said the gods are with us again! This is the time of which Kharas spoke: ‘When the power of the gods returns, then shall the Hammer go forth to forge once again the freedom of Krynn.’”

Arman Kharas came to stand before the Throne of the Kingdom of the Dead. “Tell me how to enter Duncan’s Tomb. Tell me where to the Hammer of Kharas, noble prince, for such is my destiny!”

The gem’s light dwindled and diminished, flickered and died out.

“Wait, Prince Grallen!” Arman shouted. “You cannot leave without telling me!” Slowly Flint lifted his hands and slowly removed the helm from his head. He didn’t look triumphant or elated. He looked tired. His face was drawn and pale. He seemed to have aged as many years as the prince had been dead.

“ You know!” Arman cried suddenly, pointing at Flint. The young dwarf’s voice burned with fury.

“He told you !”

Flint walked away from the throne of the Dead, holding the Helm of Grallen underneath one arm.

Realgar laughed. “This is sham, a fraud! He is lying. He has been lying all along. He has no idea where to find the Hammer!”

“He knew the details of Prince Grallen’s life and death,” Hornfel said. “The mountain shook when we doubted him. Perhaps Reorx and the other gods have returned.”

“I agree with Realgar,” said Rance. “Cloudseeker has shaken before now, and none of us claimed it was anything more than the way of the mountain. Why should this time be different?” Flint pushed past the Thanes, only to be confronted by Arman.

“Tell me where to find the Hammer! I am a prince. It is my destiny!”

“Why should I?” Flint flared. “So you can take the Hammer, and throw my friends and me in your dungeons?”

“Hold his friends as hostage for the Hammer’s return,” the Daewar suggested.

“Do that and the Hammer can stay lost for another three hundred years!” Flint said angrily. Realgar’s squinting eyes had been observing Flint narrowly. He smiled, then said, “I propose a wager.”

The other Thanes looked intrigued. Like their god, dwarves loved to gamble.

“What wager?” asked Hornfel.

“If this Neidar finds the Hammer of Kharas and returns it to us, then we will consider permitting these humans safe entry into our realm—provided they are not an army, of course. If he fails, then he and his friends remain our prisoners, and we seal up the gate.” Hornfel stroked his beard and eyed Flint speculatively. The Daewar nodded in satisfaction and the Klar gave a low chuckle and scratched his chin with the knife blade.

“You can’t mean they are actually considering doing this!” Sturm said, when Tanis translated. “I cannot believe they would gamble on something this serious! Of course, Flint will have no part of it.”