“Could you put out another leg while they wait?” Hyden asked. “Urp, the wolf that came in with us, is injured, and exhausted. He needs rest and food badly. His master, King Aldar, of the realm of giants, would appreciate the kindness, I’m certain.”
The last bit, he said with an air of authority, doing his best to imitate Mikahl’s stately tone. The way the blood drained from the man’s face at the mention of the Giant King, told Hyden that the matter would be promptly handled. He would have asked about Mikahl then, but they had come up under the long entry that sheltered the grand stairway leading up into the intricately carved entrance to the Palace of Xwarda.
Men were waiting to take the horses. When they dismounted, both Vaegon and Hyden nearly fell to the ground in agony. The ache in their inner thighs and lower backs assaulted them as soon as they were on their feet. Neither had ridden a horse before the long ride from the camp. The saddles had looked more comfortable than a wolf’s back, but now, it was all the two them could do to stand upright without moaning or stumbling over.
Hyden’s will to make a good impression, and not show weakness to these people, who may or may not be an enemy, helped him master his pain. Vaegon cheated, and spelled his pain away. Under another circumstance, Hyden might’ve made a jest about the discomfort, but Mikahl’s dire situation hung heavily in the air, and smothered away any mirth that tried to manifest itself.
They were greeted at the top of the stairs by a dwarf. Neither of them had ever seen a dwarf before, and it was shocking. The man was apparently used to the reaction, and didn’t take offense to the slack jawed expressions he received. Hyden wasn’t sure, but he thought that the dwarf might not have ever seen an elf before either. Either that, or the patch over Vaegon’s ruined eye socket held a particular interest to him. A silence hung over them all as they took each other in.
To Hyden, the dwarf looked as if a normal size man had been smashed down to just over waist tall. His shoulders and waist were as wide and thick as any man’s, only compressed down, as if a Mammoth Shagmar had stepped on him. The dwarf’s hair was a nested mop-like explosion of graying tangles that seemed to erupt up out of his uniform, and spilled down over his shoulders. A huge, bulbous nose parted a set of heavy, white eyebrows, under which the sparkle of dark, yet merry, eyes could be seen. His beard flowed down over his ample belly, the tip of it nearly touching the floor, and only a trace of bottom lip could be seen under his mustache.
“Dugak’s the name,” he said, in a deep grumbling voice.
He bowed, and might have been smiling, but it was hard to tell through all that hair.
“She has been waiting for you in the dining hall. There are refreshments to be had there as well.”
He indicated for them to enter through the open doors. Hyden went first. Vaegon followed, and was glad that no one tried to take Ironspike from him, because he wouldn’t have let it go.
Hyden wondered who “she” was. At first, he had assumed it was going to be the woman they had met in the forest, but now as they walked, with loud echoing steps through the beautifully decorated corridors of the palace, he began to think that this “she” that was waiting for them might be Willa the Witch Queen herself.
The palace didn’t seem like the sort of place a witch would live in, mused Hyden. It was definitely fit for a Queen though. Tapestries, depicting sceneries of all sorts lined the walls of the wide passage they were in. Every so often, a small, but bright lantern was ensconced on the wall. They passed a few open doorways, which gave the impression that the darkened rooms beyond them were cavernous, and as majestic as the rest of the place.
At a crossing of hallways, four suits of armor stood at the corners. Hyden couldn’t tell if there were men standing perfectly still in the suits, or if they were just for decoration. He tried to peer into a face plate of one helmet, but couldn’t get a good enough look to tell. He found himself peeking back over his shoulders, to try and catch one of them moving.
Vaegon was contemplating the lighting in the corridor. It didn’t correlate with the widely spaced lanterns, or the limited amount of illumination that they were providing. He noticed that the high ceiling wasn’t marble, like the walls and floor were. It was bright to look at, and probably made of Wardstone, spelled to a soft and steady glow.
They eventually ended up entering a dim, formal looking dining area. The room was multi-leveled, and on the lower floor, three long identical tables sat empty. At the far end, on an elevated stage-like rise, was another table. This area was lit up with flickering torches on ornate stands, and the table was laden with platters of food and drink.