Blade of Erogrund

Thain’s heavy footsteps on the polished stone of the Great Hall could hardly have been disguised even if he had tried.

“How is this? How has he recovered so soon?”

The poor attendant who carried the torch shook her head desperately. “As I’ve said, sir, I was only told to bring you to his bedside. I have no idea what happened.”

Sarah and Mira welcomed the thundering dwarf with solemn smiles, but it was Thessi who crouched over Ennor, examining his wounds, that answered the dwarf’s inquiry.

“Nor do I, master dwarf. No manner of healing or witchcraft that I have seen could achieve such miraculous results. His wounds are all but gone.” Her slender fingers nimbly uncoiled the bandages that wrapped Ennor. Still the gore of his cuts marred the white of the wrappings while his skin bore not even a hint of the blood, let alone the gashes themselves. “It is as though a hand has reformed the flesh. Never have I seen something like it.” As she dropped the wrappings on the small table beside the bed, Thessi crossed her closed palm over her eyes in a sign Mira recognized as warding off evil.

“What then?” the dwarf barked. “A sorcerer roams the city? A necromancer? I won’t have any such nonesense. There must be an explanation!”

The elderly woman spun in flurry to face the short dwarf until, in her significantly stooped stature, they looked nearly eye to eye. “To my knowledge the men of the mountains are of no great knowledge in healing methods nor remedies! In the event that I am wrong, which we both know I am not, kindly inform me as to what that explanation is!!” Her hunched shoulders stood resolutely, holding up her blazing gaze.

Thain raised his hands in defeat. “Fair enough then. No matter how, is he well?”

Thessi wrung her hands nervously. “To the best of my knowledge, yes, he is more than well. He is as good as he possibly could be under the given circumstances. Better even.”

“What of you two,” Thain inquired perhaps more sharply than intended. “Did you see no one come and go? When did he appear to heal?”

Mira glanced at Saracyir who calmly answered. “We saw no one, save Theronin who stayed quite some distance from the bedside. We have no reason to believe he was involved but sadly have no explanation for what has happened here. It is as much a mystery for you as for us.”

“Theronin,” Thain spat from under the braids of his beard. “Should have known that mongrel was somehow involved.”

“Forgive me,” Ennor whispered weakly. “But it is my understanding that he was not involved.”

The small assemblage started at the king’s sudden speech. Thessi beat them all to him.

“My lord, you should not be speaking! You must rest and rest well!”

“Oh, none of that,” Ennor murmured. His pale face parted in a small smile. “I am well enough, just weary.”

“Thank Ecthion you’re alright, lad,” Thain muttered. “You had me worried sick.”

“It was scarcely a day,” Ennor whispered. “Have you grown soft in your old age?”

Thain’s mouth contorted in a mixture of a smile and a grimace. “Have you grown foolish enough to call me old in your illness?”

“Fair enough my friend.” The young king sighed deeply, his chest falling noticeably. “I fear there will be little time for rest.”

“Nonsense,” Thessi protested.

Ennor shrugged as much as he could from where he lay. “We digress. Where are the Lords now?”

“Tending to their own affairs,” Thain muttered, shaking his tattooed head. “Most made themselves scarce after the fighting died down. Theronin has been making rounds, now that you mention it,” the dwarf continued thoughtfully, “and Caeros remains in the Lower Halls.”

“Is that where the resistors have been placed?”

“Aye. My kin hold the doors and keys. None of the hundred will leave without the word of you or me.”

Ennor sighed a shaky breath. “I suppose they must be dealt with first.”

“Yes,” Sarah murmured. “And dealt with swiftly. The city possesses neither the resources nor the continual manpower to watch over them. Also I fear the opinion of the people may sway with time. It would not do for the Lords to bicker over their fate.”

“I sense you have a recommendation, Sarah.”

The elf pursed her slender lips. “You are correct. I fear they must be put to death.”

At this even Thessi stopped her frantic pacing.

“That’s out of the question,” Ennor declared. “Traitors or not I cannot order the death of a hundred of my own people.”

“Sire,” Thain swallowed deeply. His brooding eyes softened even his face fell beneath the mask of his beard. “That is the law. Not only is it law but it is the only logical way. We don’t dare free them nor can we continue to keep a continual guard on them.”

“I’m aware of that, Thain.” The king’s voice was stretched thin and filled with hurt like a bandage wrapped over too great a wound. His face had sunken in only the several moments they had been speaking and his eyes had darkened like obsidian in the candlelight.

“That’s quite enough,” Thessi whispered. “You must rest.”

Ennor was slow to respond but offered no protest. “Yes, yes you’re right.” His eyes traced back to Thain with a glimmer of vitality. “While you are at it, friend, prepare to muster what remains of the army. I may have taken an arrow at Caeros’s order but his brashness reveals that it is time for action.”

“At risk of sounding impudent,” Sarah protested, “but an army - even one as great as the entirety of this city - is scarcely a threat to the Dragons. Erogrund remains lost and with it any hope of victory.”

Ennor nodded weakly. “True but nevertheless there is little hurt in being prepared. I have faith it will be found in near days and then we will be glad we are prepared.”

Thain grunted. “It will be done.”

Sarah nodded wordlessly, letting her hair fall across half her face in a veil.

Mira followed the two companions out the formidable door of the Great Hall into the passageway. Three guards in mighty armor nodded solemn welcome to them wordlessly before Thain turned to the right and disappeared down the gloom of the passage.

Sarah took Mira’s hand in her own, which felt strangely smooth and cold like polished stone to the young girl. “This way,” she said simply, guiding Mira to the left.

In was not long before they came across Theronin in the passage. He had changed his clothes since appearing in the Great Hall, now donning a half-plate over a simple leather tunic and breeches. His sword hung from his belt, though his other sheath remained empty from the knife Mira now carried in her own belt.

“Lady Saracyir, Mira. A pleasure,” he bowed shortly.

“Theronin,” Saracyir answered calmly.

“Is the news then correct that Ennor has recovered?”

“News travels fast,” Mira muttered making no attempt to hide the suspicion that flowed from her tongue.

Theronin was not dissuaded. “Only when it is as fine as that which I have heard,” he said with a smile.

Footsteps approached from behind him until an elderly attendant came upon them. His leathery, silver-haired head bent to softly whisper in Theronin’s ear.

“Truly?” Theronin questioned intently.

The elderly man nodded.

“I fear,” Theronin began with a sigh, addressing Saracyir and Mira now, “that my apology to the king must be delayed. Other affairs require my immediate attention. Until next time, ladies.”

“I look forward to it,” Saracyir replied flatly.