Quest Chapter 1

Chapter one

The Call of The King

For several centuries, there had existed an uneasy truce between dwarven and human kind, but that had changed suddenly when both he and the aging man king had both been young. Prior to that fateful day, man and dwarf had each tried to ignore the other, and generally stay out of each other's way. But Duran remembered the day that all of that had changed almost like yesterday.

Duran had been deep under the hill, studying under a master smith, Bogar, the art turning raw iron into superb weapons. Bogar was generally acknowledged to be the finest weapons smith of all of the dwarven people, and the dwarven people were acknowledged to be the finest weapons smiths in the land. Duran had been proud to be one of Bogar's apprentices. The dwarven concept of apprenticeship was somewhat different than that of the humans. A young dwarf would become an apprentice to a master. He would remain an apprentice until he became a master himself. The concept of being a journeyman or any other in-between level of skill simply did not exist among the dwarves. You were either a master, an apprentice, or you were nothing.

Duran had been nearing the end of his apprenticeship and had been working on a war axe. The axe had been nearly finished. Duran had forged it and reforged it. He had hammered the edge so finely that it had required almost no sharpening. He had sung the spells into the steel as he shaped it on the anvil and as he had heat hardened and tempered it. More magic had been sung into it as he polished it. All that had been left to do was to inlay the carven runes with gold. It was to have been the work that would have shown that he had mastered the smith's art. Duran was just starting to inlay the gold when the alarm had sounded.

Bogar was an old dwarf. His back was bent and his eye didn't see as far as it once had. He could no longer swing his hammers as hard or as swiftly as he had in his younger days, although he still swung them as accurately as ever. Despite his age, Bogar had not hesitated an instant. He had yelled for his apprentices to arm themselves and proceeded to set an example. Grabbing a shield and war hammer, he had run from the forge chamber. His apprentices could do no less. Since Duran had been holding his war axe, he carried it without thought and grabbed a shield on his way out.

Bogar had led his young charges as swiftly as he could through the tunnels and up the ramps toward the Great Hall. As they ran, the war horns continuously rang out almost frantically. Soon, there were other dwarves running with them. Soon, they could hear shouting, and the sounds of fighting ahead. Breaking into the Great Hall, they faced bedlam.

Thousands of goblins had broken into the Great Hall. Those that were not busy fighting with dwarves were busy setting fire to anything combustible. Although the dwarves had spent a great deal of ingenuity and effort on their ventilation system, it had never been designed to handle the smoke that was being generated now and many of the dwarves were hampered by it. As more dwarves poured into the Great Hall, they were slowly beginning to push the goblin forces back and for a while it looked as though they were winning. But after about two hours, the sheer numbers of goblins streaming into the hall began to have their effect and started to push the dwarves back. Still the battle raged on and Duran's axe proved itself many times over.

Goblins were not much taller than the dwarves, but they were much more slimly built, almost what a human would call skinny. They were rather stoop shouldered and had a largish, rounded head that was reputed to be mostly bone. The kindest description of their faces would be to say simply that they were ugly. Cruel, stupid and lazy, they would much rather take what someone else had built than to build on their own.

Finally, when things were really looking desperate, and the dwarves had nearly been driven out of the Great Hall altogether, something happened that had never before happened in the long history that the dwarves recorded. There was the sound of hoof beats coming into the hall. Suddenly, the human king burst into the hall leading a charge of his calvary. No man had ever ridden a horse into the Great Hall. No human king had ever entered the Great Hall, and few men had ever entered, and then only when invited. Mounted on horseback, they laid about them into the goblins. No one had ever accused the goblins of being very organized, but they became even more disorganized than ever now. Behind the horsemen, the human king's foot soldiers ran into the hall, and the dwarves rallied. Within a half hour, not a goblin had been left alive.

Slowly, the human king dismounted and he and King Gilmer had approached each other. The human king removed his helm and said, "Ho, King Gilmer Stout Heart. It would seem that I have violated a few of your laws by coming in here."

"Aye, King Berethra of Dondra, that you have. But I hasten to add that never have I been so glad to see any of my laws violated. For what good is a law, if there are none left to see if it has been violated? But how came you to know of our plight?"

"I fear that 'twas the smoke of your fields burning that alerted us. 'Twould seem that the goblins set your crops to the torch on their way in. But how is it that you let them approach you so unaware?"

"I, too, would know the answer to that. Would you care to accompany me outside that we may riddle out this problem? I care not to think that they may burst upon us so unawares a second time."

It was at this time that Duran had found Bogar. He lay sorely wounded, surrounded by dead goblins. Duran shouted, "Bogar! Bogar needs help! Quickly!" So loud and urgent was his call that even the two kings came running. Already Duran was tearing his shirt to bind the worst of Bogar's wounds. "Quickly! bring salves and herbs for his hurts!"

"No, Duran," Bogar said weakly. "It is too late for that. My hurts are my last ones. Bring instead parchment, and quill and ink.

"Are you still my apprentice? Then you must obey me. Fetch what I ask, and hurry, while I still hold breath."

Duran had run as fast as he could to his master's bidding, afraid that he would return to find that he was too late. But he found that he was in time. Bogar had asked to be propped up and still held to consciousness. "I fear that I am too weak to write. Would someone put down my words for me?"

Such was the respect that Bogar had earned that King Gilmer himself knelt by his side an said, "But speak, old friend, and I shall put your every word to the parchment."

He was silent for a moment while all around strained to hear his words. Finally, quietly, he began to speak. "My apprentice, Duran, had nearly finished his apprenticeship. The war axe that he was making as his final project was nearly completed. It needed only the gold inlays and to pass the test of cleaving the anvil. I, Bogar, swear that it passed it's test by cleaving many goblin heads, swords and shields. I witnessed these things myself. I so say that Duran has passed his apprenticeship." He paused a moment then said to King Gilmer, "Now let me sign it."

Gilmer held the parchment for him as he signed with the quill. Then, letting his hand fall, Bogar closed his eyes, smiled and sighed his last breath. Gilmer slowly stood and said, "Bogar has left this realm behind him. His soul now travels in finer places with other brave warriors who have laid down their lives this day. Later, we will hold full funeral rites for all that have fallen this day, but now, let us see to the wounded, and also to this puzzle of the goblins surprise approach." With that he turned, and with King Berethra at his side, walked for the exit.

Outside of the mountain, it was easy to see which way the goblins had come. But to understand how this had happened, you must first understand something of the mountain, for this was the mountain that was called, in the common speech of the men, King Mountain. A great mountain range ran from the north to the south, dividing the land in twain. King Mountain stood at the center of the northern half of the range, and was the largest mountain in the range. It's peak was crowned with snow year round, and from it's peak, a climber would look down upon all of the lessor peaks. Other parts of the mountain range, which was called the Backbone in the common tongue, had foothills approaching them, but not King Mountain. What few rolling hills that stood at it's base were nothing more than man or dwarf might take a casual stroll over on a summer's eve.

The kingdom of Dondra stood to the west of King Mountain and directly facing the castle of Dondra, was the main entrance to the dwarven kingdom under the mountain. This entrance had originally been the opening to a natural cave, and was situated in the center of a natural protuberance that jutted out of the side of the mountain. In years past, the entrance had been enlarged and squared up, and huge iron bound oaken doors had been mounted in the opening. The doors were closed at night, but were normally left open during the day.

As the two kings came out of the front door of King Gilmer's realm, it was easy to see which way the goblins had come. Their tracks and dropped items were scattered off to the right and around the corner. They followed the tracks around the corner, and behind an outcropping of rock found the opening to a tunnel that the goblins had dug. "Well," Gilmer had said, "We'll certainly have to do something about that. We can collapse the tunnel, but first it will serve as a handy disposal site for all of those dead goblins. We really should do something to discourage them from trying that sort of thing again. I shall have to think about it."

"Gilmer," said Berethra, "I fear that you have other problems as well. I feel that we should inspect your fields to see how much can be salvaged."

Two hours later, the worst had been realized. Not only had all of the fields been burned, but the dwarves meat animals had also been killed, hacked apart and the meat had been fouled.

"It is not quite as bad as it looks," said Gilmer, "We still have our mushroom farms in the tunnels, and we can hunt for game."

"It looks as though we are going to have a good year. If we all go on short rations, we can share our crops and meat with you. None of us will get fat this year, but none will starve either. If your people and ours hunt as well, we should all get by."

"Berethra, why would you do this for us? Your people and mine have never been close."

"True, Gilmer, we have never been close. But we have traded on occasions, and you have not been bad neighbors. We have tended to ignore each other. But at least, we have not feared that you would attack us. If you perish, 'tis possible that the goblins, or some other group could take your place, others that would be less friendly and peaceable than you."

That winter and the next spring had been a lean time for both dwarves and humans. The humans had, true to Berethra's word, shared their crops and meat. The dwarves had shared their cherished mushrooms. And both people had hunted extensively. True to Berethra's word, none had starved, and none had grown fat.

When spring had come and it began to look as though things would start to get better, Gilmer had sent for Duran. At the time of the goblin attack, Bogar had been working on a sword, a sword fit for a king. Gilmer asked Duran to finish the sword, and to make it the very best that Bogar himself would have been able to make. Duran had labored long over the sword. He had used every bit of the considerable knowledge that Bogar had been able to teach him. The blade was sharp enough to shave with, although Duran would never consider shaving his beard with it or any other instrument. The blade had been polished till it shone like the sun, and the runes carved into it had been inlaid with gold. Precious gems had been set into the hilt, and the pommel was a large emerald. Others had been set to the task of making a scabbard fit to house the sword.

When the task was done, Gilmer himself lifted the sword high above his head, and with a mighty swing, cut an anvil in twain. The sword was still sharp. Gathering a few dwarves (including Duran and the scabbard makers) about him, Gilmer had set off for the castle of Dondra. By this time, it was mid summer, and food was more plentiful.

The dwarven delegation had been escorted into the throne chamber and there Gilmer had presented the sword to Berethra, saying, "King Berethra, this sword was started by the master smith Bogar, whose death you witnessed. Unfortunately, he had not time to finish it before that dark day. However, his apprentice, Duran, has finished it. We give it to you as a mere token of our appreciation of what you have done for us, and with it, we pledge that so long as you or your line sits on the throne of Dondra and remains uncorrupted, that we shall remain your closest allies. We shall not be your subjects, but we shall consider the protection of you, your line and your kingdom just as important to us as the protection of us and our own."

With that King Berethra had stepped down from his throne and accepted the sword. As he drew the sword from the scabbard, more than one attendant caught his breath at the sight. "I have never heard of a weapon crafted by Bogar to have failed its owner. And I know how Bogar seemed to feel about Duran, but this blade is surely for show, is it also a working weapon?"

Gilmer answered, "Just before we brought the sword to you, I myself sliced an anvil in twain with it, and still it holds it's edge. There is no reason that a sword cannot be a show piece and a usable weapon at the same time."

"Then I accept this fine sword. I shall name it Avenger. It shall be my prize always. With the acceptance, I also accept your pledge and return it. So long as you remain incorrupt, and my line remains on the throne, your protection shall be as important to us as our own."

So had begun a deep friendship between two peoples. Trade had increased as had social intercourse between the two races, and many personal friendships had developed during the fifty years that had passed since that day when the goblins had attacked the dwarves.

Fifty years ago... Berethra had been twenty five, Duran himself had been thirty five. Now Berethra was an old man of seventy five, but at eighty five, Duran was in the prime of life. There was something to be said for life spans of a hundred and fifty to two hundred years.

Only once during that fifty years had any dared to attack Dondra. It had been forty years ago when King Jestal of the kingdom of Brentsland, which had lain between Dondra and the western sea had decided to annex Dondra under his own rule. He had attacked Dondra with no warning. He had no warning when every able-bodied male dwarf from the Kingdom Under the Mountain attacked his flank during the battle. He was killed during the battle and Berethra annexed Brentsland and made it a part of Dondra. He had been a fair and just ruler over the new part of his kingdom as he was over the original part of Dondra. Since that time none had dared to attack Dondra.

Now a messenger had arrived from Castle Dondra. King Berethra had requested Duran's presence at nine of the clock in the morning.

King Berethra's first wife, Queen Lorienanna had given him a fine son, the Prince Jannar. Ten years later, she had died of a fever. The king had mourned her for several years, but had finally remarried. Seventeen years ago, when the king was fifty eight, Queen Marrana had died in childbirth giving him his second son, the Prince Perimer. After that time, the King had not remarried.

Ten years ago, when Prince Jannar was thirty five, he was killed in what was meant to look like a hunting accident. He had been found with an arrow in his back. While the kingdom was still in mourning, the younger Prince Perimer had been riding when the saddle cinch had broken, and he had been thrown. Fortunately, he had not been hurt, but inspection of the saddle cinch had shown it to have been partially cut. Two weeks later, a stone falling from a battlement had narrowly missed the young prince. The king had asked the dwarves to take the young prince to some place of hiding and safety, preferably where he could still receive an education befitting a future king. Duran had led the party that had spirited the young prince away from the castle under the cover of night. Now Duran suspected that the king wanted the boy back. Well, he would know in the morning.

The next morning dawned clear and cool, a typical early spring day. The mountains still had snow on them, but here in the lowlands, the trees were leafing out and things were beginning to grow. Duran had left King Mountain with plenty of time to arrive at the castle without having to hurry.

When he arrived at the castle, he had been escorted immediately to the king. Even though he knew that the king was old, and that human kind did not live as long as dwarves, he was still shocked to see how the king had aged since he had last seen him two years ago. "My old friend, Duran," the king had begun. Even his voice, which had been so clear and strong in earlier years was weakening and failing him now. Duran felt a sadness thinking about it. "Ten years ago, you hid my son in a place of safety for me. At my request, only you and your party know where he is. Now I fear that my time is drawing to an end. It is time for my son to come back to Dondra. I would place the crown on his head myself if I can last that long. Will you fetch my son for me, Duran?"

"Gladly, your Majesty. I shall gather my party and supplies and leave at first light in the morning."

"Then may the gods protect you and lend wings to your feet. I have not seen the Prince Perimer in ten years. He must be a young man by now. I pray that you can return him to me before I die." The king looked to his right side where his sword leaned against the throne. "Nearly fifty years ago, this sword was presented to me by King Gilmer. It has served me well. I remember that it was started by Bogar, and that you finished it. It still looks as new as the day that you finished it. It has been a token of a pledge between our people. Now, I would like for you to take it with you and give it to my son. Then he can bring it back with him." He lifted the sword, now an obvious effort for him, and extended it toward Duran. "Will you take my sword to Prince Perimer, Duran?"

Duran turned and left, making plans as he walked. He had told the king that he would leave at first light. But the prince was hidden because someone had killed his brother, and had tried to kill him twice. Duran remembered a saying, "The walls have ears," and felt that it was best that he left tonight, just after full dark. That way, if enemies of the king had any nefarious plans, he would get a good head start and perhaps could loose them.

Arriving back at the mountain, he went immediately to King Gilmer and told him what had transpired. At a hundred twenty seven, Gilmer's hair and beard were now white, but he was still a strong dwarf. And there was certainly nothing wrong with his mind. "I had been expecting this," he had said. "I am only surprised that he has waited so long. I had known that he was failing." He was quiet for a few seconds and then said, "And I feel that you are right in leaving tonight. Make certain that you and your party are well armed, Duran. Who will you take with you?"

"Pretty much the same party that went with me last time, there is Glomer and his twin brother Glimeer, Bomar and Dinnan, Dofat and Haman and Billamir from last time, and I would like to add Tummie and Logas who are very good bowmen. Fresh game makes a nice change from dried trail food."

"Sounds like good choices." He called to a young dwarf who had runner duty this week and sent him to fetch the chosen dwarves. Within minutes they started arriving. Dofat was the first to arrive, a very large dwarf. As dwarves go, he was nearly a giant, standing nearly five feet tall and proportioned like other dwarves. That is, his shoulders were nearly as wide as he was tall, his legs were short but very powerfully built and capable of running nearly all day if need be. His arms were also powerfully built and he carried a fifteen pound war hammer as his weapon of choice although he also carried an axe as well. In use, he handled his hammer as a human would handle a carpenter's hammer. When pressed, he would fight with axe in one hand and hammer in the other, using both. Glomer and Glimeer were next to arrive, two average dwarves, except that they were partial to green coats rather than the browns, rusts and reds that most dwarves chose.

Bomar, Dinnan, Haman and Billamir came in together. If you discounted the girth of Haman's waist (reputed to be caused by his fondness of dwarven ale), only Billamir of the four was unusual in any way, he kept his beard tucked into his belt instead of hanging loose as the rest of them did. Finally Tummie and Logas arrived. These were the youngsters of the group, being forty six and forty one, respectively.

After all had been thoroughly greeted, King Gilmer spoke, "Duran has a quest, to retrieve the Prince Perimer. You have been chosen as his companions on this quest. Do any wish not to go?" His question was greeted with silence. "Good. You will leave tonight after full dark. We fear that this mission may be dangerous. We have reason to believe that some would prefer that Perimer not be returned to Dondra, and may try to prevent it. King Berethra thinks that you are leaving in the morning, and hopefully, so do his enemies. Take as many supplies as three pack ponies can carry, and go well armed. Most of you were on the mission that took Perimer away, and from your reports, that was no picnic. This may well be worse. Take care and keep good watches. I will not presume to tell you how to go about this quest, Duran and you must make those decisions, you are the ones that are going to be in the thick of things. I will just say, try not to do the obvious if you can. I do fear that there will be those that will try to stop you from getting there and back.

The rest of that day was spent gathering supplies and trying to get some rest, for Duran planned to travel most of the night.

Chapter two The Journey Starts

"Wrong," Duran replied. "None of the bottles contains water. There is wine in that bottle. Water won't be a problem for a while. There are springs and streams aplenty on our route. Later we will fill the bottles every chance that we get, but for now, leaving the bottles empty will cut down the weight that the ponies must bear. And stay out of the wine, Logas. You too, Tummie."

"You shouldn't have told them that we have wine, Duran." said Bomar. "Now we will be lucky if they make it to our first camp."

"Well," said Dofat, "I will make it my personal responsibility to pretend that their heads are two hickory nuts that need cracking if they so much as smell that wine bottle before Duran says that they can have some."

Haman piped up, "Dofat, why should you have all of the fun? I think that I should get to sit on the head of at least one of them if the wine is disturbed." That comment brought a general round of laughter from the other dwarves. The picture conjured up in their minds of Haman sitting on a miscreant's head appealed to their senses of humor. Even Logas and Tummie joined in the laughter, each, of course picturing Haman sitting on the other's head.

They traveled on in high spirits, laughing and joking among themselves until Duran called a halt about three of the clock. They had been traveling about eight hours and Duran judged that they had put enough space between them and King Mountain for the night. Besides, he didn't want to get the party in the habit of traveling all night every night and sleeping all day. There were parts of their journey ahead where he felt more comfortable if he could see where they were going. His chosen campsite was a cave beside a stream. They lit a fire in front of the cave entrance and Dofat volunteered for the first watch and the others settled down to sleep.

At eight of the clock the next morning they broke their fast and headed on their way. Traveling south on the western plains would have been easier and faster than going through these mountains, but they had wanted to avoid the enemies of the human king. They would have had to pass through the mountains later anyway, and there was an easy pass further south. They could have taken the eastern exit from King Mountain, but the broken lands there would have been much more difficult, and they were mostly desert with no water or game. In some of these lower valleys between the mountains the forests grew very thickly. They were passing through just such a forest about one of the clock when they stopped for lunch. They had brought some fresh food with them, but that would be exhausted today. After that, the only fresh food that they would have for a while would be what they could gather or kill.

After eating, they were relaxing by smoking their pipes. Tummie was sitting leaning back against a tree when a spear thudded into the tree beside his head.

Dwarves are sometimes considered slow and steady, but they can move fast when the have to. This was a time when they decided that they had to move very fast. Jumping up with arms and shields, they faced the direction that the spear had come from. And waited. And waited some more. All was very quiet in the forest. Finally, deciding that the attack was over with that one thrown spear, they started gathering their packs and dropped pipes. Then they turned their attention to the spear embedded in the tree. Haman pulled it from the tree and turned to Duran, "Look at the design of this spear head. Have you ever seen such before?"

The point of the spearhead was long and narrow, being some ten inches long and perhaps three quarters of an inch wide, and then flaring to rounded but wicked looking barbs. "Never," said Duran. "And the shaft decorations are unfamiliar to me also." A green feather was tied to the shaft just aft of the head, and bands of color were alternated with unknown runes. Each of the dwarves in turn inspected the spear and each in turn agreed that it was of an unknown type. Also each of the dwarves felt uneasy when handling it and was glad to pass it on to the next.

Finally, Logas, being the youngest, and the last to examine it, said, "There is something evil about this. I can feel it like something tangible." Logas was known to be naturally gifted somewhat in magic, though dwarves normally used no magic other than that used to craft their weapons and tools and when working in stone. Even then, that magic was more for the strengthening of their products, and not to grant any magical abilities to their products. Just as with the King's sword that they carried, and his own axe. Much magic had been added to them, but it was primarily to harden the edges and keep them from becoming dull, and to increase the temper so that they would not break in use, and to prevent rust and tarnish.

Duran made a decision. "Lash the spear to the last pack pony. It is not far out of our way to the wizard's cave. We shall go there and seek his advice." And so it was done. And that caused a minor problem. The pony that had been chosen to carry the spear became skittish, and one of the dwarves had to walk beside his head at all times and speak soothingly to him in order to keep him calm.

They halted their march just before dark, as much out of pity for the pony carrying the spear as for any other reason. They were just in sight of the mountain known in the common tongue as Lair's Guard. They had only to head on down the pass that they were in and cross a valley and they would approach it. After that they would round Lair's Guard going toward the east and then they would come in sight of the mountain known as Wizard's Lair. Normally, instead of rounding Lair's Guard and heading east, they would have passed it by and continued south. They had chosen to stop here because there was a small cave with a streamlet close by and there was plenty of forage for the ponies.

Tummie and Logas started searching for firewood as soon as the ponies had been unpacked and Haman started the fire at the mouth of the cave and began preparing the evening meal. They had discovered on the previous journey that he had a real talent with food preparation, and it had become obvious to them that dwarven ale was not the only thing for which he had a fondness. On any march, he always kept an eye open for wild herbs that would serve to make the next meal tastier.

That night they dined on the last of the fresh food that they had brought with them, they would break their fast in the morning on dried trail food. After the evening meal had been finished, Tummie and Logas decided that they wanted to give the cave a more thorough inspection. Since the other dwarves had done this on their previous trip through here ten years ago, they had been satisfied with a cursory inspection to make sure that nothing had made a home of this cave. So, taking firebrands with them, they started making a detailed study of the various rock formations that made up the interior of the cave.

It was Tummie that spotted something that made him call out, "Duran! Come see this!" When Duran, followed by the other dwarves arrived, it was obvious what the "this" was. Someone had been digging in the cave and uncovered a vein of the metal that was called nickel in the common tongue. Men used it mostly for decoration, but the dwarves had learned long ago that a little of it added to the steel of which they made their weapons made those weapons tougher and more impact resistant. That, added to the magic that they added to their weapons during the making of them made them very good weapons indeed.

From the amount of rubble on the cave floor, they could see that a goodly amount of the nickel had been mined. "This is interesting," said Glimeer. "Who but a dwarf would want that much nickel? Men use but small amounts of it for decoration, goblins don't care about the effort required to make decorations and aren't smart enough to think of adding it to the steel. And I am sure that if any dwarf or dwarves had been mining here we would all know of it."

Duran and the other dwarves agreed in general with Glimeer and they searched the cave thoroughly but could find no other signs that anyone had visited the cave. As they searched, Duran had asked Tummie to fetch a pick from the packs. When Tummie returned, Duran carefully took a sample of the nickel and carried it back to his own pack where he stored it away.

They soon posted a guard and settled down for the night. The guards that night were extra vigilant. Logas pulled the next to last guard shift the next morning, and when he woke Dinnan to replace him, instead of laying back down, he took his bow and left the cave. When Dinnan started awakening the rest of the dwarves, they found Logas just finishing cleaning the hares that he had felled. Haman gladly took over the task of preparing them for their breakfast.