Douglas Niles - The Heir of Kayolin

The king waved his scepter again but could only sob in frustration when the god failed to respond, to act, to smite his enemy. Ragat stared at Jungor, uncertain what to do. At the same time, the female wizard, moving unsteadily, clutched at Willim’s arm even as the wizard yanked away from her. Her pale features were locked in an expression of horror.

“You will die, now, King Stonespringer!” taunted Willim, edging forward. “You have fought the wrong fight, against the wrong enemies-and you have only weakened Thorbardin. Under my reign, the grandeur of our nation will be restored.”

“You speak words of falsehood,” the king replied, his arrogance reviving. “I have dethroned one false king, and I shall not yield to another.”

“You need not yield,” Willim said with a cold laugh. “You need only die.”

He raised a hand and pointed a stubby finger at Jungor Stonespringer. His scarred, eyeless face twisted into a leer of pleasure as his lips parted and he began to chant a spell.

Ragat did the only thing he could think to do: he lifted the Kingsaver Shield and charged directly at the wizard. Willim barked in surprise but dodged out of the way before Ragat was able to strike him; his blinded apprentice was too slow to react, however. The shining metal disk of the shield, blessed by all the priests of Reorx, struck the coldly beautiful Facet in the face, and she screamed as she toppled backward, over the lip of the prayer tower, leaving Ragat staggering at the brink of the precipice.

“No!” shrieked Willim the Black.

The king and the shield were both forgotten as Willim took to the air, magically flying to rescue the falling female. In a swish of movement and a flash of his black cloak, he was gone, crying out for the apprentice, diving through the air to snatch her in his arms before she smashed into the pavement a hundred feet below.

At the same time, Stonespringer’s voice rose from a throaty bellow to a shrill, penetrating cry. The king had not seen his general’s attack, nor the wizard’s fall. He only knew his rage and frustration as his will was thwarted and Willim escaped. He screamed at the roof over his head, and his words bounced from the stone, echoing over the battle. He called down the vengeance of his god, he shrieked his hatred for all that was unholy, he demanded that his enemies be slain-horribly and at once.

Perhaps it was some trick of acoustics, the shape of the stone amplifying and expanding the sound of his voice. Or perhaps, indeed, it was the power of the god himself. In any event, as the words were enhanced, as the force of Stonespringer’s voice spread across the field of battle, the ground began to shake, the tower to sway sickeningly, like a tall tree in a strong wind. Several chunks of stone broke from the ceiling, raining destruction upon those dwarves who were out in the open plaza below.

Then, after the initial worrying tremor, the ground began to rumble more violently. More stones broke from the ceiling, plunging onto the plaza, crashing explosively among the cowering, blinded dwarves. Ripples of movement caused the plaza to buckle and flex, here rising, there plunging away into darkness. Jagged cracks appeared in the ground, and some of them swallowed dwarves who were too slow-or too blind-to escape. The screams of the doomed added to the rumbling, thunderous groaning that wracked the air.

Nothing so inspires terror in the subterranean-dwelling dwarves as an earthquake, and that temblor was enough to send every warrior of every army, even blinded as they were, fleeing for cover. The waves of destruction swept through the city, knocking over towers, bringing walls and ceilings tumbling down, knocking the wounded from their beds.

Shaken to the core, the bravest fighters took shelter under roofs, tables, shelves, anything they could find. Weapons fell from nerveless hands, friends and enemies sought shelter in the same protection-even the fires of the battle were doused as dust and debris tumbled downward and smothered the flames.

The war was forgotten, and miserable dwarves who still lived prayed for their lives … and all of them prayed to the same god.

A proclamation to the dwarf citizens of Garnet Thax:

This is the word of Regar Smashfingers, once Governor and soon-to-be King of Kayolin:

My brave and intrepid dwarves, we know that our nation has faced a multitude of challenges arising from the current state of the world-challenges that require swift and decisive action. As your leader, we publicly resolve to face these obstacles with determination. So long as our people, the dwarves of Kayolin, remain united and resolute, we shall know triumph and prosperity, and we will deliver to our enemies an unending diet of defeat, devastation, and destruction.

Good citizens of Kayolin, you are loyal dwarves, steadfast strivers in the mines and warrens of our great nation. Likewise, we on the throne steadfastly strive to rule you with a gentle hand and a visionary heart. For the better part of two decades, our appointed role, traditional through the long centuries of our history, has been that of your Governor, with authority drawn from the High King on his throne in distant Thorbardin. This is a legacy dating back to our founding as a colony of that great nation, when we were dependent upon Thorbardin for support, for military protection, and for a steady maintenance of trade.

However, it has become apparent to us, and to all perceptive citizens of our nation, that two Great Truths have emerged over the last centuries. In conjunction, these Truths require a new approach to Kayolin’s government and, indeed, to our relations with the rest of Krynn.

The First Great Truthhas been long in the making, but it can no longer be denied. We are forced to conclude that the dwarves of Kayolin stand alone as the representatives of our race, the mountain dwarves, in our large and significant corner of Krynn. We must face the determination that the other lands of our kinfolk, our brave cousins who dwell under all the great mountains of Ansalon, have been subjugated, conquered, or even quite possibly exterminated by threats that remain as yet unknown to us. Be the enemy elves or dragons, men or minotaurs, ogres or giants, we know not. But we must acknowledge that those other nations of dwarfkind have been silenced, and it is quite likely that we in Kayolin stand alone as survivors among the mountain dwarves.

Consider that communication from the nation of our One True King, the High Thane of Thorbardin, on his throne beneath Cloudseeker Peak in the Kharolis Mountains, has utterly ceased. No word, no message of any kind, has been received from Thorbardin in more than ten years. Because we knew that Thorbardin, as indeed all of the lands around the High Kharolis, was wracked terribly by the onslaught of Chaos and subsequently endured a violent and consuming civil war, it is clear that we can no longer rely upon any rulership, or governance, from that once mighty realm.

It is a melancholy fact but true: We in Kayolin must accept the possibility that we stand alone. There can be no expectation of guidance, solace, aid, or alliance with the ancient home of our ancestors. This First Truth does not mean our doom, not in any sense, but it presents a challenge to our heritage and demands a new way of ruling ourselves and of seeking solutions to our problems.

The Second Great Truthhas also been long in the making, though the current dire situation is a more recent development. By its nature, this Truth is a direct threat to our prosperity, our happiness, and indeed, to our very survival. It is a Truth understood, to some extent, by every child of Kayolin, for it ties into the ancestral enemy of our homeland. But now, my loyal citizens, that enemy presents a menace to our prosperity, our safety, and even our very survival.