Troy Denning: The Amber Enchantress

“Even at his wealthiest, Kalak himself would have envied that fortune,” Sadira said.

“Which is why Lyanius didn’t want to let us into the village,” Agis surmised.

Caelum nodded. “Yes. You arrived at an inopportune time,” he said. “We brought the armor out of its vault only yesterday and were unprepared to receive visitors. I trust you’ll keep what you see here to yourselves?”

“Of course they will,” Neeva said peevishly. “Didn’t I tell you that Sadira and Agis are as trustworthy as Rikus?”

“Please,” Agis said, raising his hand. “Caelum’s caution is understandable. If word of Kled’s wealth spreads, the sorcerer-kings themselves will send armies to steal it.”

“I’m glad you understand,” Caelum said. He gestured at the waterskins hanging from Rikus’s shoulders. “Leave those here, and I’ll see that they’re filled.”

As the mul complied, he asked “Does this mean Lyanius wasn’t telling the truth about Er’Stali’s health?”

Neeva shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no.”

“A tribe of raiders attacked the village a few weeks ago,” Caelum said. “Er’Stali insisted on helping us defend the gate, and he was wounded.”

With that, the dwarf led the way up a narrow lane to a large hut covered by a makeshift roof of lizard hides. Neeva paused outside the door curtain and called inside to ask if Er’Stali would receive visitors.

“I’m working,” answered a weak voice.

“We’ve come from Tyr,” Sadira said. “We need your help.”

A long sigh sounded from inside. “Come in then.”

“Caelum and I will see to your waterskins and provisions,” Neeva said, holding the curtain aside for Sadira and her companions.

Before they could enter the hut, Caelum said. “Please don’t stay long. Er’Stali is trying to set down all he can remember of the Book of Kings . Every minute is precious.”

“Which is to say, I could die any time,” the old man’s voice growled. He broke into a fit of coughing, then gasped, “Now, come in and ask me your questions before it’s too late.”

Sadira stepped through the doorway. Pale sunlight shone through the hide roof, bathing the hut in a rosy glow. At the table hunched a skinny old man, swathed in ichor-stained bandages from neck to waist. He had a wispy white beard, gray eyes glazed with fatigue, and a face etched with deep lines of pain. On his forehead was a faded tattoo of a double-head serpent. Both of the snake’s mouths were filled by long, wicked-looking fangs.

Sadira recognized the mark as the Serpent of Lubar, the crest of a noble Urikite family. She knew the emblem from the personal standard of Maetan of Lubar, the Urikite general whom King Hamanu had sent to invade Tyr the year before. During the war, Maetan had stolen the Book of Kemalok Kings from the dwarves, and Rikus had promised to recover it. Unfortunately, the book had not survived, but the mul had managed to kill Maetan and return to Kled with the only living person who had read it-Er’Stali.

The old man did not even look up as Sadira and the others entered his hut. Instead, he kept his attention focused on his table, using a wooden stylus to scratch at one of the dozens of diptychs scattered around the room. The clay tablets filled the air with a musty smell and were stacked everywhere; in his cabinet, on benches, beside his bed, and all across the floor.

The old man held up a finger to keep them silent, then finished scoring his next thought onto the tablet. Finally, he looked up and squinted. “Who are you?”

Rikus stepped to where Er’Stali’s view of him would not be obscured. “They’re friends of mine,” the mul answered.

“Rikus!” Er’Stali gasped. “How good to see you again! What are you doing back in Kled?”

“We’re hoping you might have the answer to a problem we face,” the mul explained.

“Perhaps I do,” the old man said, grimacing at some pain deep within his body. He dipped his stylus into the bowl of water, then cleaned the end on a cloth. “What problem is that?”

“We’ve learned that the Dragon will soon visit Tyr,” said Agis. “Our king intends to sacrifice a thousand people to him.”

Er’Stali’s stylus slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. “Then I suggest you let him,” the old man said. “Better a thousand lives than the entire city.”

“No,” Sadira answered, shaking her head. “Tyr stands for freedom. If we yield to the Dragon’s demands, we’ll be no better than any other city.”

“Can you remember anything from the Book of Kemalok Kings that might help us?” asked Rikus. “The Dragon must have a weakness.”

“If Borys has any weaknesses, they were not described in the Book of Kings ,” Er’Stali snorted. Nevertheless, he rose and, braced himself on the mul’s arm, shuffled over to the tablets next to his bed.

“Borys?” asked Sadira. Rikus had mentioned the name to her, but had not identified it as that of the Dragon. “I thought Borys was the Thirteenth Champion-”

“Of Rajaat,” Er’Stali finished, moving a stack of tablets aside. “Yes. He is also the Dragon.” The old man looked up at Rikus. “You remember the story Rkard’s specter told us, do you not?”

“Yes,” Rikus said. He looked to his friends, then explained, “Er’Stali was reciting the story of the battle between Borys of Ebe and Rkard, the last of the dwarven king. According to what Er’Stali had read, both Borys and Rkard died after the fight.”

“But the ghost of King Rkard appeared to tell us the account was wrong. Borys and the Dragon returned years later to destroy the city,” Er’Stali added. “Unfortunately, Rkard vanished before I could ask about the relationship between the two, but I have found an account that clarifies it.”

The old man sat down on his bed, then laboriously searched through a pile of tablets until he found the one he wanted. “If the Book of Kings has any help for you, it will be here,” he said. “It’s the last story, set down by a scribe who returned to Kemalok long after Borys destroyed the city. As I recall, the hand was jittery and frail. Leaving the tale in the book of his ancestors may well have been his dying act.”

Er’Stali read: “The day came when Jo’orsh and Sa’ram returned to Kemalok and saw what Borys had done to the city of their forebears. Both men swore to track down the butcher and destroy him. They set off for the mighty Citadel of Ebe with all their retainers and squires. When they reached his stronghold, however, they found it long abandoned, occupied now only by a handful of wraiths patiently awaiting the return of their master. These, Jo’orsh interrogated with the Way of the Unseen, learning that Borys had mysteriously lifted the siege of Kemalok just when it appeared it would succeed. He had sent his army back to the Citadel of Ebe and left for the Pristine Tower, the stronghold of Rajaat himself, to meet the other champions.”

Er’Stali looked up from his tablet to add an explanatory note. “The Book of Kings did not name all of these champions, but from what I can tell, each was to anihilate an entire race, much as Borys tried to destroy the dwarves. I have seen references to Albeorn, Slayer of Elves, and Gallard, Bane of the Gnomes.”

“Gnomes?” asked Rikus.

“The book doesn’t say who they were,” answered Er’stali. The old man looked back to the tablet, then continued reading. “Jo’orsh and Sa’ram left the Citadel of Ebe and traveled with their retainers into the wild lands beyond the Great Lake of Salt until they sighted a spire of white rock in the distance. Here, all manner of horrid guardians appeared. They left their squires and retainers in a safe place, then continued to the white mountain alone. When they entered the Pristine Tower, they found that, like the Citadel of Ebe, it was abandoned, save for the shadow giants-”