Richard Tuttle - 13 Day War

“But you can,” Haditha sighed as she changed her form into the old woman from the Endless Swamp. “You travel in your mind, and I know that you were somewhere else when I returned. You did not even notice me when I surfaced.”

“I am sorry,” apologized Captain Gomery. “I can’t stop thinking of the others. It gets worse every day.”

“I understand.”

Captain Gomery raised an eyebrow in surprise. He was sure that Haditha would immediately take his words in the worst possible way, as if his love for her was no longer strong.

“I suppose it is a failing of humans to require contact with one another,” he offered sheepishly. “I still love you dearly.”

“I know,” Haditha smiled tautly. “You have proven that beyond question. I have spent so many years in isolation that I forget how it felt in the beginning. I am wrong to subject you to this.”

“It is not wrong for us to desire to be with each other,” countered the captain.

“No,” agreed the water witch, “but it is selfish. The others need our help.”

“We do not even know if any of them are still alive,” frowned the captain. “How can you say that they need our help?”

“The feelings of anxiety are not yours alone,” admitted Haditha. “We are being summoned to the Isle of Despair.”

The captain frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either,” the water witch replied candidly, “but I know it to be true. A force more powerful than anything I have ever known is causing our anxieties. I have found myself wondering about the Alceans and how they are doing. That is not natural for someone like me. It is clearly a command to return to your people.” The water witch nodded towards the fish she had thrown towards the captain. “We will have a fine meal this evening and then depart for the Isle of Despair.”

* * * *

The dwarven mages of Tarashin were a varied lot. Some were male, and some were female. Some were old, while others were young. They came in all shapes and sizes, but they had one thing in common. All of them were well versed in the magics of strengthening metal and cutting into rock. Metal and stone were the mainstay of dwarven life, and dwarven magicians seemed to have an innate ability to perform such magics. A few had taken their mastery of the arts far beyond those rudimentary offerings, and they had often tried to interest the others into expanding their knowledge. The result of those efforts had been the creation of the Magicians’ Guild. The guild met once a month, and magicians took turns teaching new spells.

Dorforun was the current leader of the guild, and a frequent lecturer. He was extremely tall and lanky for a dwarf, which had precluded him from working in some of the more enclosed spaces during his earlier years. As a result, he had spent more time studying old magical scrolls than most of his kinsmen. Over the years he had amassed an amazing knowledge of magic, and he was eager to share it with the others.

On this particular day, Dorforun was speaking before the guild about a spell that could create flexible watertight seals. While the process of creating the seals was complex, manipulation of the seals after their creation was amazingly quick and simple.

“As you can see,” summarized Dorforun, “the seals can be quickly expanded or contracted. Other than our little display basin here, can anyone think of uses for these seals?”

“The obvious use is for sealing doors where water might intrude,” stated one of the dwarves.

“That is obvious,” snorted another magician, “but there are other potential uses. The generous amount of expansion and contraction suggests another use to me. If these seals are strong enough, they could be contracted and fitted into a crevice in the rock. They could then be magically expanded, forcing the crevice to widen.”

“Excellent,” smiled Dorforun. “The seals would indeed be strong enough, as long as the mage who created them made them strong enough. That is a variable in the creation that must be taken into account to match the use of the seals to their task.”

“Then we should also have a rating system for these new seals,” suggested one of the guild members. “We wouldn’t want to inadvertently use a weak seal for a task that requires a strong one.”

“Correct,” nodded Dorforun.

Dorforun was pleased with how the lecture had gone. He stood listening to the discussion of various uses for the seals and how the rating system should be devised and implemented. He purposely left the discussion to the others and did not try to steer it or manage it any way. He knew that some of the dwarves considered him to be too intellectual and not active enough in the actual day-to-day operation of the mine, and he didn’t want to appear as a schoolmaster. After a while, Dorforun quietly exited the chamber where the guild met. He strolled aimlessly through the finely hewn corridors of Tarashin to give the guild members time to develop their own thoughts. He had planned to return after an hour to see how the discussion was developing, but that was not to be.

Dorforun halted suddenly. He had meandered into one of the oldest sections of Tarashin. The corridor had been created in the days of King Arak, but the dwarves of Tarashin had moved on to richer areas where the veins flowed with precious metals. The dwarven magician warily glanced around, wondering what had caused the sudden feeling of unease. Uncharacteristically, the dwarven mage called forth a protective shield to envelop himself.

“That is hardly necessary,” smiled Fakir Aziz as he stepped out of the darkness. “I am not here to harm you.”

Dorforun stared at the human with a mixture of suspicion and unease. “Then why are you here? And how did you get here? You certainly did not walk past the guards.”

“The how is not important,” smiled the Mage. “As for why, I think you already know. Your services are required.”

Dorforun blinked. He was positive that he had never laid eyes on the human before, yet he suddenly felt as if he knew him. Were he younger and less experienced, he would have suspected the human of casting a spell upon him, but the feeling was not caused by magic. Dorforun was sure of that. A feeling of awe swept through the dwarf’s body, and suddenly he understood.

“Why me?”

“You are more powerful than even you know,” Fakir said with a smile. “Dress in a long cloak with a hood. You will be going into the land of humans, and they must not see a dwarf.”

“How long will I be gone?” asked Dorforun. “I will want to tell the others when to expect my return.”

“You will tell no one,” instructed the Mage. “As for the duration of your commitment, I can give no answer. Perhaps you will never return.”

The dwarf swallowed hard as the Mage’s words struck home. The human had not explicitly said that death awaited him, but it was clear that the possibility was more than minimal.

“Everyone will know that I have left,” countered the dwarf. “Even if I don’t say farewell, the guards will report my leaving.”

“The guards will not know of your departure,” declared the Mage. “No one is to know. I will wait for you in the valley south of Tarashin. Do not be long.”

Alex, Tedi, and Natia passed through the Door and entered the Royal Palace in Tagaret. Alex spoke briefly to the guards stationed there and then the Knights of Alcea made their way to King Arik’s study. They entered the study to find the king and queen talking to Theos, the Tyronian mage. The conversation immediately halted as the royal couple turned to greet the newly arrived Knights of Alcea.

“I was hoping that you would show up,” welcomed King Arik. “The meeting started some time ago, and I wanted to hear from you before attending myself.”