Douglas Niles - The Heir of Kayolin

Somewhat surprisingly, she looked up at him without her usual angry or irritable expression. “Remember what you said?” she asked.

“What? I say lots of things-most of which you don’t even hear,” he replied.

She ignored the barb. “You said you’d like for us to get out of here, even if it meant leaving this shop, all our possessions, behind.”

“So? I was thinking out loud. What of it? I think out loud all the time.”

“Did you mean it? Would you be willing to live in poverty, start over again, if we could get away?”

He was startled by the question and still trying to formulate a sensible reply when he heard the loud clank of the shop’s front door opening.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

The voice came from the front of the Two Guilders Novelty and Pharmology Emporium. Peat bustled out of the back room, leaning on his cane, squinting at a prosperous-looking Hylar, stout and middle-aged, accompanied by a frumpy dwarf maid, with two young ones peering from behind their mother’s skirt. The shopkeeper cleared his throat and overcame his surprise-they were the first potential customers he’d seen in several weeks. Even before the war, the king’s stern disapproval of magic had served to keep dwarves away from the shop that specialized in that unsavory field. Those of the Hylar clan, in particular, tended to look askance at the two Guilders.

“Um, yes,” he said. “Welcome to Two Guilders. How can I help you?” He gestured to a row of vials and bottles. “A potion to help with sleeping, perhaps, in these troubled times? Or something of a more exotic nature?”

The Hylar family advanced into the shop, allowing the door to slam behind them.

“What is it?” Sadie demanded crossly from the storeroom. “Are you talking to yourself again?”

She, too, hobbled into the shop and gawked in surprise at the sight of the Hylar family standing there. “What do you want?” she demanded as Peat winced at her harsh tone.

“They’re customers! ” he hissed. “You do remember customers, don’t you?” He offered a thin smile to the Hylar father, whose gold belt buckle, fine vest, and fur-lined boots were apparent even to Peat’s feeble eyes. The woman wore several diamond bracelets, a glittering necklace, and a pair of gemstone earrings. The customers were clearly well to do.

“I apologize for my wife’s ill manners,” Peat said, glaring at Sadie-who was still staring open mouthed at the Hylar family. “But please,” he said, turning his gaze back to the Hylar, “how can we help you? Perhaps you know that we have an impressive assortment of charms and trinkets, as well as the potions that you see before you.”

Indeed, he felt justifiably proud as he indicated the well-stocked shelves with their array of contents. “We have a number of unique items here-many of them unavailable in any other shop in all Thorbardin,” he said, trying not to sound boastful. “We have elixirs that will ease the temperaments of contentious adversaries and others that will allow you to vanish from sight in a moment, should an unwelcome visitor present himself at your door. With such a potion, I assure you, you won’t be seen unless you want to be seen.”

“Er, yes,” said the Hylar, who Peat felt virtually certain was a fellow businessman, perhaps a vendor of exotic fabrics or rare gems. “Truth is, we’ve never really come in here before-”

“We’ve known about you, of course,” gushed the dwarf maid. “But, well, you know how people talk. We’d never really felt right about all the magic and-”

“Now, hush, dear,” said the Hylar patriarch sternly. “These nice Theiwar don’t need to hear our life story!”

“Well, what would you like to see now that you are here?” Peat said, gritting his teeth impatiently. “In these troubled times, there must be something we can offer.”

“Well, it’s because of the magic, you see,” said the Hylar, introducing himself as a merchant whose name was Horth Dunstone. “That’s why we came to you.”

“There’s no other way to do it, only magic,” said his wife. “Only magic can help us.”

“Help you to do what?” asked Peat gently.

“Well, there’s the war. Times are hard. My business has already suffered. My children, well, all of us, our lives are in danger. As is everyone else’s of course. But we really hoped you could help.”

“Again, help you in what fashion?” Peat felt his fixed smile starting to slip. “Do you need to hide, to protect yourselves?” His voice dropped conspiratorially. “Do you have an enemy you want to hex? To sicken, perhaps, or to blind-temporarily, of course.”

The Hylar’s eyes widened at the litany of possibilities, and he gulped nervously. Finally, he seemed to shake off his fears, clearing his throat as he recovered his nerve. “Well, it’s just this. Can you help us to get out of Thorbardin?” the merchant asked bluntly. “Just get us, our whole family, as far away from here as possible?”

Taken aback, Peat blinked. “Well, I’m afraid not,” he said with a shrug of genuine disappointment. “I mean, we could help you conceal yourselves, and if the gates were open, you might be able to slip through. But as I’m sure you know, the king has sealed us against the world. There’s no way to-”

“Wait!” It was Sadie, cutting him off with a sharp word. Peat was too puzzled to be annoyed, which would have been his usual reaction to such an interruption from his wife. He looked at her curiously, wondering what she had in mind.

“It might be possible,” Sadie said. “It would be complicated … it would be very, very expensive-”

“Oh, that’s quite all right. I can afford to pay!” Horth Dunstone offered quickly.

“Then come back tomorrow,” Sadie said. “We’ll have an answer for you then.”

Peat was staring at his wife, so utterly astounded that he didn’t even say farewell to his precious customers as they bowed politely and made their way out the door.

“The king has spoken! Rally to me, brave Hylar! Hold the wall!”

Ragat Kingsaver, General Commander of the First Division of the Royal Guard, shouted the commands from the roof of his barracks, a fortified structure just inside the main gate of the king’s fortress. After scrambling around for several hours in the initial confusion of the attack, he was fully girded for battle: his armor vest protecting him, his boots buckled securely. He slapped the hilt of his sword as he stalked back and forth, looking around coolly, making the best plan possible for the defense of Norbardin.

Ragat’s bald head was unadorned by a helmet, as was his custom, and his beardless face-almost unique in all the king’s army-made sure that he stood out prominently on any battlefield. Beyond that, the gleaming silver circlet of his shield formed a bright focal point that caught the eye of enemy and ally alike. The Kingsaver Shield, bestowed upon Ragat by the king himself, was one of the most fabled artifacts in Norbardin, and his loyal troops believed the legend whispered about it: that his army could not be defeated, so long as the general still possessed his enchanted shield.

The general had been a warrior all of his adult life. In his younger years, he had been a drunken, even dissolute, bully, ever willing to shed blood, to meet violence with violence, to take that which he desired by the dint of his will or, when necessary, the point of his blade. He had been an outlaw, had been sought for punishment by the agents of the former king, Tarn Bellowgranite, when the great civil war erupted in Thorbardin so many years earlier. Naturally, Ragat had joined the side of Jungor Stonespringer … not because of any fondness for the upstart, but simply because he was the enemy of Ragat’s enemy.