Twenty-third of Harbinger
The chamber was a shocking contrast to the grim death-filled tunnel behind them. As soon as she stepped inside, Belkai was flooded with light from a shining ball floating near the roof, almost seven feet above her. The floors, walls, and ceiling were all made of solid gold, with edgings made entirely of ruby. With the light floating above, it felt as if they were walking into a room of liquid gold. No one spoke a word as they got a glimpse of true dwarven glory, long forgotten to the outside world. Such beauty hadn’t been seen by an outsider in millennia, either here or within their mountain fortresses. The central focus of the room was a bronze altar that seemed to rise out of the golden floor. Belkai felt the strange presence emanating from it, and she took a hesitant step forward. There was a haziness about the altar that disappeared as she approached, revealing a four-foot golden obelisk embedded with diamonds and emeralds. Belkai reached out to touch it, but Nizali smacked her hand away.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to touch that,” he said quietly, and pointed at a podium that she had missed. It was just in front of the altar and held two stone tablets. “Perhaps I shall read this first.”
Belkai nodded, looking around sheepishly. Other than Davos, everyone was watching the dwarf. Davos shrugged at her. I’d do the same, she heard him think, and she gave an embarrassed smile. Nizali didn’t see any of this as he stood before the podium and read over the tablets. He glanced at the obelisk with wide eyes, then began to read.
“Behold the altar of Zumani, Constructor of the Second Dynasty, Destroyer of Dasilthaz. May his line be forever cursed.
“Abandon hope, all who open his mind. Only the heaven-sent can control Zumani’s hell. We have blocked the way and sealed ourselves inside. May the forest consume what remains above. Gods forgive us.”
Belkai looked back at him as he went silent. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Who is Zumani?”
“Nothing more than a myth,” Greywall answered. He swallowed nervously. “At least, that’s what I thought. He was some sort of mystic. But he destroyed the Lost Mountain, an old fortress that has been lost to myth. If this...obelisk…was made by him, then it should be forgotten. We should never have come here.”
“Belkai, that presence?” Brimur prompted.
“It’s coming from the obelisk,” Belkai confirmed. “At least, it’s attached to it somehow. It comes and fades. It’s almost as if it’s waiting for something to reach out to it.”
“I wouldn’t be too quick to do that,” Davos warned. “That warning seemed pretty clear.”
“They said they sealed themselves inside,” Syndra pointed out. “But there’s no bodies.”
“They’re here somewhere,” Greywall answered. He looked around and pointed at a spot along the ruby lining. “There. A crack in the ruby.”
Belkai saw nothing but trusted the eyes of the dwarf. She watched as he walked over to the wall and ran his hands over it until he found what he was looking for. It took only a light push, and a hidden door swung open. Belkai stepped past Greywall, then froze. There were twelve skeletons before her, all in bronze armour. A sword pierced each chest, lined up in three rows. It was a deliberate setup, and clearly an intentional message.
“Mass suicide,” Greywall said from behind her. “To ensure nothing left this room. It’s a last resort.”
Belkai turned back and studied the altar and its obelisk. “What is it, Greywall? Truly. What made them so desperate?”
“The rumours say that Zumani wanted to cross worlds. He wanted to find the power of the Arcane.” Greywall glanced at the bones, unsure of whether he was more frightened by the skeletons or the obelisk. “They say that he went mad. He opened a portal that unleashed horrors on Dasilthaz. There is a reason that mountain was lost.”
“So they brought this here to contain it,” Lasiri said. “Belkai, this is the source of Narandir’s magic?”
“I believe it is. I can sense it.” She approached the altar, stopping a foot short and studying it with her senses. Something seemed to react, the presence shifted further away as if it were beckoning her to take hold of it. “It’s almost as if something is leaking into our world from whatever’s on the other side.”
“To open it is death,” Greywall announced. “Whoever touches it will damn us all. Those bodies are the testimony to the Second Dynasty’s fear.”
“We need to consider this,” Belkai told Brimur. “I’ll have the elves guard it, and Narandir’s creatures will keep watch over them.”
She turned to Greywall. “You’re certain that your king knows about this place?”
“He knows that this is Narandir’s source, though I do not know how,” Greywall answered. “I am certain that he does not know what it contains.”
“Then we will summon the elders here,” Belkai told Syndra. “A war council must be held immediately.”
“It will be done.” She bowed, then raced back into the tunnel. Belkai set her eyes on the dwarf, and he seemed to shrink under her gaze.
“I am in two minds about you, Greywall,” she said. “If I let you go, and you’re lying, then your king will know about this place. If I don’t let you go, and he attacks, how am I to know that you won’t try to join his armies? Do you understand my dilemma?”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“I do.” Greywall glanced around, seemingly in nervousness, and shrugged. “You’ll have to trust me. I have nowhere to run.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Belkai stepped over to the podium and ran her hands over the cold rock, whispering the lines that Greywall had spoken. The dwarf took another look around, contenting himself that no one was paying him any mind. The two mages were studying the bones, Davos was standing beside his wife, and the only one between him and the tunnel was the elf Grais. Viable or not, he would get only one chance to escape, and this was it. He slipped the rock out of his tunic and with two quick steps he reached Grais and slammed the weapon into his stomach. As the elf doubled over, Greywall hauled his dagger out of his belt and plunged it through his throat. He took another step towards the door, then there was a flash of red and a fiery whip wrapped around his arm. He felt himself fall backwards, and a shimmering red blade appeared against his neck. He looked up into the wrathful eyes of Lasiri.
“Stop!” Belkai yelled. “Don’t kill him.”
The blade moved back an inch, but not enough for Greywall to risk moving. He looked up at Belkai as she stood over him, arms crossed over her chest.
“What were you thinking?” she hissed. “You killed one of my people, and for what?”
She spat on him, then told Lasiri, “Tie him up. We’ll find another hole for him.”
The Prince of Nimura didn’t resist, stifling a curse as he was hauled to his feet and pushed into the tunnel ahead of the group. Davos cradled Grais’ body in his arms as he walked behind Belkai, knowing that her wrath was beginning to burn. Gods help the dwarves if they attack.
***
To Belkai’s surprise, Syndra was still with Lithmae when her group reached the surface. Lasiri tossed Greywall into a crumbling waste pit and directed her Watchers to stand guard over him. Belkai and Davos came to Lithmae, and he bowed towards Grais’ body.
“We will bury him with his father,” he said as another elf took the body from Davos. “A curse on his killer.”
Belkai told him what they had discovered, and he gave a curse.
“All our lives, for as long as legend tells, we have been guardians of Narandir’s power,” he said. “Now you tell me it’s the result of a dwarven madman’s lunacy?”
“It’s more than that,” Belkai assured him. “He had no idea what he was involved in. Honestly, we don’t know enough to make any judgements.”
“Perhaps.” Lithmae sighed. “We shall see. For now, I have good news. A message arrived. We have had some more friends join us. We are needed at the Stadia.”
“Who came?” Davos asked. Lithmae laughed, but his awkwardness was clear.
“A band of Ikari orcs and Brilhardem,” he said, much to Belkai’s surprise. “Maybe two hundred of the orcs. But only twenty-five mages.”
The balance didn’t bode well for Belkai, who asked, “What news did they bring?”
“Their leader was Arak,” Lithmae told her. “He would say nothing to my messenger, only that he needed to speak with you.”
“He looked saddened, at least inasmuch as an orc can,” the messenger said, nervously shuffling his feet. “I mean no offence, of course.”
“I understand.” Some prejudices were hard to overcome, Belkai knew, and elves had never been close friends with orcs. “Lithmae, we need to return as quickly as possible.”
“Of course.” He looked around at the group with a grin look. “Syndra, there’s only three of you, but we need that tunnel guarded.”
“With my life,” she promised. “What about the dwarf?”
“He’s not leaving my grip,” Lasiri growled. She turned to her two mages. “Eliana, Vaskil, stay with Syndra. No one gets past you.”
The two Watchers nodded. Eliana was a blonde Lustrian in her early twenties, with surprisingly cold eyes for her age. Vaskil was older, a native of the Tios Principality, with a thick beard and a slight frame. For Syndra, it was their eyes that told her the most. They both had the look of killers. The three of them watched Belkai and the others leave, then gathered with the other two elves.
“Ralia, Mirlai, you’re my best archers. Get up that watchtower and call out anything unusual,” Syndra ordered. She looked to the Watchers next. “You can fight?”
In response, Eliana summoned a whip and a dagger, both sheathed in blue fire. Vaskil formed a black battle-axe out of the air. To Syndra’s surprise, it was the woman who spoke.
“We can fight,” she growled, just like her leader. “Just give us a target.”
Syndra smiled, and with a sparkle in her eye she answered, “Vaskil, wait in the tunnel. You’re our last line. Eliana, stay with me. We will be in the latrine building. If anything makes it past Ralia and Mirlai, we’ll take care of it.”
It wasn’t much, but it was what they had.
***
Belkai was exhausted by the time the group reached the Stadia the night of the twenty-third. Most of the group retired to sleep, but Belkai and Davos searched out Arak, who was waiting before their thrones. As she made her way up the ramp, Belkai could feel his pain, and put a hand on his arm as she approached him. To her surprise, he took hold of her and pulled her in for a hug.
“What happened?” she asked when he finally released her. She and Davos stayed standing, but she guided Arak to sit on her throne.
“A triple tragedy,” Arak told them. “Shalah and Glish are dead.”
Belkai went pale. She had always admired Arak’s wives, and they had treated the mages well. “What happened?”
“A dragon attacked Sargo’ran while Shalah was visiting.” Arak was trembling, more from anger than grief. “It was a distraction. While the clans responded, the Citadel was attacked.”
“By whom?” Davos asked. Who would dare?
“It was a mixed force of werewolves and at least one spellcaster. That was the grishta that killed Glish,” Arak answered. “We had around a hundred of us when they attacked. Fifty survived, only thirty-five unharmed. We had to leave some with the wounded, and others are gathering the pilgrims to come here.”
“Salatia survived?” Belkai asked.
Arak nodded. “Brimur is with her now. Glish saved her.”
“Shalah and Glish were strong mates, Arak,” Belkai said gently. “The clan would be proud of them. I am proud of them.”
“I know.” Arak forced a smile. “Belkai, they’re coming for you. They attacked the Citadel to break the Brilhardemand keep us from coming to your aid. They failed, and we found hunting parties to march with us. But things are happening in the east.”
“And we don’t have enough Brilhardem left,” Belkai finished his thought. “What is in the east?”
“We heard rumours as we passed through Lustria. But perhaps they are best left for your little council tomorrow.” Arak shook his head. “We expected retribution, Belkai, but what is stirring seems beyond anything we had imagined.”
Belkai was thinking about the obelisk as she gave a grim smile. “You have no idea, Arak.”
It was Davos who interrupted and guided Belkai towards one of the smaller structures attached to the Stadia to get her some rest. The morning would be hard enough, he knew, even with a full night’s sleep. Belkai was asleep before her body reached the bed.