Michael Mathias - Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

“Droves of dwarves,” the pixie said in a voice far too big for its size.

“It’s the might of Doon, Your Highness,” Dugak cut in over the fluttering blue gnat. “It seems they’ve come to answer your call after all.”

What in all the gods is he talking about? Is he drunk again? Willa wondered. Starkle must have seen her perplexed look and began trying to explain.

“Thousands of dwarves have come down out of the hills north of Jenkanta. They’re armed and prepared for battle.”

“Where did they come from?” Willa still didn’t grasp it. “There’s not a hundred dwarves left in the realm.”

“Oh, but there are,” Dugak said with a grin. He did a jump-skip in place, trying to contain his excitement. “Don’t you see? They came because you blew the Horn of Doon. They’ve come to answer your call for aid.”

Understanding replaced her confusion. Almost a year ago, when Pael’s undead army was standing outside the gates of Xwarda, she had blown the Horn of Doon, hoping to summon the dwarves to help them defend the Wardstone that the city is built upon. “They’re really late,” Willa said with a smile at the wonder of it.

“What should we tell them?” asked Starkle. “That we’ve no need of them. Should I send them back underground?”

Dugak swatted at the pixie as if he were a pesky insect. Luckily for Starkle the dwarf missed.

“Just because that battle is over doesn’t mean that there isn’t a need.” Dugak looked to his queen. Under his thick mass of beard, his chest was puffed out proudly. “Us dwarves are the ones who built this city in the first place. Who better to rebuild it?”

“I’m not going to put them to work, Dugak, unless they offer,” Willa said with a giggle at the silliness of the dwarven army coming out of the earth a whole year late. “Go welcome them, Dugak. That is an order. Explain to them what has happened and arrange a feast. No matter their tardiness, the return of the dwarves of Doon to Xwarda is a reason to celebrate.”

With an elaborate bow the dwarf turned and started away.

Starkle, now flying just out of arm’s reach, said, “The elves built Xwarda with the aid of the giants you dimwit dwarf. That was long before a dwarf ever set foot in this land.”

Queen Willa suppressed her amusement at the strange turn of events and retreated back into the sitting room. She thought it best to get Queen Rachel’s five thousand men committed as soon as possible. Maybe, just maybe, she could get some of the dwarves to go and help Mikahl and Jarrek too. Their legendary skills as fighters and builders would go far toward helping Wildermont raise itself out of the rubble. She would start working on that at the feast. Right now she still had Rachel’s offer to seal, and by the sound of the woman’s new sobbing, tactfully bringing the subject of soldiers back around wasn’t going to be easy.

General Spyra couldn’t have been more content. His young wife had arrived from Xwarda with the new troops Queen Willa had afforded the effort, and now two thousand men were on their way through the mountains to help King Jarrek. Dreen was as occupied as a city could be, and no viable threat was known. He didn’t have a concern beyond the lovely woman beside him.

Lady Mandary’s sparkling blue eyes twinkled, and her straw-colored ringlets dangled like ribbons of gold in the afternoon sun. The carriage ride had been her idea. She wanted to see as much of the Red City as she could. Spyra tried to explain to her that it was the same throughout the interior of the great red wall that surrounded Dreen. There were low, red block buildings surrounded by corrals and sheering yards, and as many grazing lots as there were homes. There were no towers or cathedrals, no spectacular landmarks, just wild-smelling functional stock pens and a few large taverns.

Spyra still found her interest in his work a pleasant surprise. She had always asked him of this and that, but now she seemed to want to know every detail of the High King’s plans. Spyra didn’t find this suspicious because Lady Mandary expertly catered to his ego. She kept him boasting of this, that, or the other. He found himself almost seeking her approval of the ideas that he and King Jarrek had been tossing around in Mikahl’s absence. When she learned that Mikahl might actually be in Westland, she hurried the tour, feigning lightheadedness. Of course the General rushed her back to the modest palace of Dreen. He hoped to get reacquainted with her in a more personal way after dinner, and getting her comfortable was of great importance to him. He had no idea that, once she locked herself in her chamber, she was going to use her witchy magic to confer with Queen Shaella. After all, Lady Mandary was one of the Dragon Queen’s favorite spies.

“Leave me for a while please,” Lady Mandary ordered her attendant when she was finally in her chamber. “I will be taking a nap and I do not want to be disturbed until dinner.”

“Yes, milady.” The servant woman had some doubts to her mistress’s sanity. Already she had seen the woman speaking into a bowl and had overheard several peculiar conversations when the lady was the only person in the room. She expected one of those to take place now, and hurried out to her own quarters. She didn’t want the ravings of the General’s wife to be any of her concern.

The single drop of blood that dripped from the vial into the basin of water seemed to stain it with abnormal potency. The liquid went from clear to pink to a deep thick crimson color in only a matter of moments. Once Lady Mandary was satisfied with the texture and color of the glossy red surface, her eyes rolled back into her head. She began to chant in rhythmic musical repetition while her hands danced at the ends of her outstretched arms. This would take awhile, she knew. Her queen wouldn’t be expecting this call.

The arrival of the red-robed priests of Kraw at Lakeside Castle in Westland happened with little fanfare. The four priests had little use for courtly pleasantries, and less for feasts and celebration. It was good that they didn’t expect much of a welcome, because Queen Shaella hadn’t bothered to prepare as much as a goblet of water to refresh them from their travels. The priests didn’t complain, but it seemed they didn’t understand why they were there. They didn’t know that Gerard was Kraw now. All they knew was that to serve their master, they had to serve her.

There was a bit of disagreement over this, but after the first prayer session, the priests began to understand. Gerard answered their questioning calls with perfect clarity by sucking the life out of one of them and commanding the others to follow Shaella’s every whim. It was impossible to argue when the dried up husk of a man was lying on the floor.

“Already one of my wizards has the Silver Skull of Zorellin in his possession,” she told them. “It is on the way here as we speak, and when it arrives we will use it to bring your Kraw out of the Nethers so that I can have my Gerard. But I do have another agenda that needs looking into while we wait.”

The priests’ first task was to make the High King aware of Princess Rosa’s presence in Pael’s tower, and set a trap for him. The trap, they determined, was the easiest part. They tried using Rosa’s fingertip to cast a drawing spell on Mikahl, but it didn’t work. Then they unpacked the library of spell books and journals they’d carried with them from the Isle of Borina, and spent the night scouring them for another way to draw their bait in. They didn’t find what they were looking for, but they settled their things into the comfortable gathering chamber they had been allotted and learned the reason why their first attempt had failed.