The Dragon God (Book 2) (20 page)

“It had some pretty elaborate traps but they are deactivated and according to Lester, it can only be opened from the inside.”

“Don’t worry, we will get in one way or another.”

Abawken inspected and then pointed to the stone models, “I found something interesting at the base of four of the five statues.” Each of them spotted the lettering and Dulgin announced they were Dwarven words and recited them aloud, “bact, estude, fen, neh.”

“Are they the names of the warriors?” asked Abawken.

“No,” Dulgin, puzzled, began, “it doesn’t make sense. These words, in common, mean, one understand can no.”

Abawken noticed, “All of them have a word except for the statue in the middle.”

Spilf jumped to action, “I will check it out with Lester and Ross.” After a minute, the Dak turned and shook his head, “Nothing.”

“Master Bridazak, you seem to be contemplating something, what is it?”

“Perhaps this is a password of some kind. If you read the words in order from left to right, they do not make sense, and if you read them from right to left it still doesn’t come together.” Bridazak moved to the first statue on the left. “This says ‘one’ and if I skip the second statue then the next word is ‘can’. Together it says ‘one can’.”

“One can what?” Dulgin was bewildered.

“The other two words are ‘understand and no’.

Spilf lit up and shouted, “One can no understand!”

Silence fell over them as they tried to grasp what Spilf was so happy about when he thought he had figured out the riddle.

“That don’t make a bit of sense, ya blundering fool!”

“It makes perfect sense to me, you talk like that all the time, I thought it sounded Dwarven.”

“You are an edoti!”

“A what?”

“An idiot!”

“Wait,” Bridazak stopped his comrades tirade of insults, “Spilf is on to something. It could be saying ‘no one can understand’.

They mulled the new formulation of words inside their minds. Abawken asked, “What could it mean, Master Dulgin?”

Without answering, Dulgin walked closer to each of the statues to take a better look. He started on the left and moved right. He stopped at the middle statue and squinted in contemplation. The effigy had a slight difference from the others and he took a step backwards.

“There is something odd about this one,” he pointed.

“Like what?” Bridazak asked.

Dulgin smiled as a sudden realization came to light, “Very clever.”

“What is it?”

Dulgin walked to the statue, turned to the others, revealing his teeth, and said, “No one can understand ‘wenthak’.” He pushed and the statue suddenly jarred loose and slid on the ice beneath it. A secret entrance was uncovered. The statue locked into place after moving several feet back.

“Wenthak?” Spilf shrugged in confusion.

Dulgin turned, “Women.”

Spilf laughed. “Oh, women! No one can understand women. I get it. Wait—that statue is a woman?”

“Yeah. Isn’t she beautiful?” Dulgin beamed.

“I thought you were stretching the truth when you said dwarven females had beards, Master Dulgin.”

The dwarf continued to smile, proud of himself on figuring out the dwarven riddle and nodded to each one of his friends as they entered the dark passage.

The heroes emerged from the secret tunnel to find themselves inside the Frost Dwarf castle. Dulgin slid the statue back in place and joined the others in gazing at the immense entryway. An intricate pulley system of wheels, ropes, and chain attached to thick rungs welded onto the massive double door revealed the incredible undertaking it would take to open the keep. The stone walls were formed of blocks of blue-hued quartz, which emulated ice. Huge pillars of the same material sprouted from floor to ceiling every twenty paces along the immensely wide corridor as far as the eye could see. The glorious and pristine beauty of craftsmanship overtook the heroes’ senses. The smell was like fresh chipped ice, but at the same time the scene felt ominous, because not a soul could be seen or heard. A deathly silence greeted them and the chill of a foreboding danger pricked at the back of their necks.

“Where is everyone?” Bridazak said, his whisper echoing through the never ending hall.

“Yeah, thought we would be greeted by friendly dwarves, Dulgin,” Spilf mocked.

“Me too,” the Dwarf said solemnly to himself, gazing forward, as he walked down the monstrous hall.

Spilf looked at the others and shrugged. Each of them knew that Dulgin wasn’t himself.

The ceiling arched high above and, unlike the ice-walls, it had a polished finish. A glow seeped through the exotic mountain rock and released a soft hue of twilight. A haunting breeze funneled out of several offshoot darkened passageways. They cautiously walked deeper and deeper into the ancient crag, searching to uncover what they felt—invisible eyes watching their every step. Abawken withdrew his scimitar and Dulgin’s axe was at the ready. Bridazak gripped his magical bow, the Seeker, and then slid out an arrow from his quiver. Spilf held his dagger tightly. Their footsteps were precise, none of them tromped in haste. Each of them imagined at any moment that a flood of frost dwarves would charge from the darkened tunnels, but only cold air greeted them, which heightened their sense of danger. They had traversed only minutes when Abawken pointed out an amorphous form in the distance. The eerie hall now had an end in sight, and the heroes fought the crepuscular lighting to see the shapeless outline still hundreds of feet away. They crept closer and realized they had approached a throne on top of a raised platform, overlooking the entry hall. The dim light strangely lessened around the chair reserved for royalty.

Unintelligible whispering stopped Dulgin in his tracks. The others halted at his sudden frozen action.

“What is it?” Bridazak quietly asked.

“I hear something.”

Each of them focused, but could hear nothing. The susurration continued, and amongst the perceived gibberish, Dulgin made out a single dwarven word.

“Help.”

Meanwhile, hundreds of millari away, the young boy of fifteen cycles, Jack, looked off into the distance. He searched within himself to understand
his place in this world without his dad, who he left behind in search of his own destiny.

“Why did I leave you, Dad?” he whispered.

The sun was setting and a soft breeze shuffled the gold grass blades of the open plain. He glanced behind to see Geetock barking out orders to the dwarven army setting camp. They were heading to someplace called the Shield, a dwarven kingdom.

Jack looked back at the sun, closed his eyes, and deeply inhaled the earthy smell of the dried vegetation. He wished with all his might he was back in the Lost City. He opened his eyes and disappointment of his unfulfilled wish penetrated his heart. His face was solemn.

“Dad, I don’t have any friends. I need you,” he said out loud.

Jack thought of Bridazak. He often longed to be with the heroes of Ruauck-El, the ones that rescued him and his dad, the ones having amazing adventures. He desperately wanted to be a part of something epic, but he felt trapped amongst these ancient dwarves and elves. With the few humans in camp, he had found no attachment.

Jack pulled a diamond ring from his pocket. The large stone sparkled in the dimming sunlight as he fondled the bauble in his fingers. His dad had given it to him; it brought him comfort, but did not take the deep desire for something more. He looked up and said, “When I get my chance I will make a difference in this world. Dad, I will make you proud; I promise.”

“E
l’Korr, Trillius is gone!” Rozelle shouted.

“He’ll turn up eventually; he always does,” El’Korr cried back over the din of the battle. The dwarves remained in place, protecting Raina from the attacking kelpies, as she focused her spell on the air pocket surrounding the ship.

Rozelle worried, “I hope he’s not hurt, or worse.” Unable to withhold her anxiety any longer, she dove through the dark blue wall of water. As she plunged into the liquid barrier, her tiny gnome body morphed once again, but this time she took on the form of a large, grey-skinned shark.

In her new body, Rozelle glided through the calm waters, sending surprised clusters of kelpies to vacate the area, until she finally spotted Trillius swimming toward her. Rozelle flashed a grin in delight and relief at the sight of him.

Trillius, however, saw the blurred grey mass approaching, and his secret worst nightmare came to reality as the shape of an enormous shark with razor sharp teeth seemed to be hunting him. Forgetting he was underwater, he let out a scream, but as the endless oxygen of Xan’s breathing underwater spell continued to fill his lungs, he simply let out a long stream of bubbles. Turning quickly and beating the water with his short arms and legs, he made a hopeless effort to escape.
“I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I want the greatest of treasure with all of my limbs intact.”
His thoughts were like a plea to an unknown god.

Dal-Draydian answered him,
“It is only a shark. Turn around and show it that you are the master.”

“I don’t have that kind of power, you crazy rock.”

She propelled to his kicking feet and then shape shifted back to her true self, grabbing his heel. Trillius expelled more bubbles with a muffled scream. He turned to see Rozelle shrugging with a grin and then he quickly swam to her side, relieved that he was not going to be eaten.

In his mind he heard the voice of Dal-Draydian,
“Is this someone you know?”

“Yes, this is my girlfriend.”

“She is weak and not worthy of the Great Trillius. You will see. She will betray you.”

“No! She’s not like that.”

As Rozelle focused her attention to make their way toward the galleon, her eyes caught something. She tugged on Trillius and pointed.

He followed her leading and was shocked to see skeletons swimming to engage the kelpies.
“Where did they come from?”
he asked himself.

Dal-Draydian answered,
“They are mindless creatures doing a menial task as commanded them.”

Trillius was not used to having someone respond to his thoughts,
“Who commanded them?”

There was no answer and then Rozelle pulled on Trillius to follow her back to the ship.