“That is the promise that King Malachite made.” Her tone was hopeful, but her eyes betrayed her doubt.
“Would you really summon my people back to the light of day?”
“I may have no choice, but King Malachi is long dead by now.”
Queen Willa pulled herself back into the moment, and looked at Andra seriously.
“Would they keep a promise made a thousand or more years ago?”
“A promise made by a King should be kept by his successors. A dwarf’s word is his bond. A King’s promise, I think, should hold even more weight.”
“And the Hammer of Doon is as mighty a weapon as King Mikahl’s sword!” Willa added, with growing confidence.
She stood, eased back past Andra, and approached the altar.
The horn was lighter than she had expected it be. It was a plain curl of ram’s horn, save for the mouthpiece, which was crafted of silver. All around the curling body, there were runes etched into the rough surface. There was a leather thong fastened to it, so that it might be carried in the field. Willa pulled that over her head, letting the horn hang just below her breasts.
“If the need be great, and the times be dark, then sound the horn, and the might of Doon will come forth from the depths of the earth, and lend its strength to protect the Wardstone.”
Willa muttered the words of the promise spoken over a thousand years ago, just before the dwarves had gone to ground. At the moment, the need wasn’t so great, she decided. Pael could be bluffing or exaggerating his strengths. Just wearing the thing around her neck seemed to give her some strength. The confidence that Pael’s display had shaken from her earlier seemed to be returning. Nevertheless, when she and Andra left the temple of Doon, to try and get some rest, the horn remained looped around her neck.
Shaella was sitting on her throne, in the empty Grand Petition Hall in Lakeside Castle. Hours had passed since the courtiers and petitioners of the day had been dismissed. Cole, her right hand, and the functional ruler of the castle and the city outside its walls, had reluctantly left her there at sunset.
He was worried for her. He knew she was strong, and far from a foolish girl anymore, so he left her to her statuesque silence, and retreated.
Shaella simply didn’t want to move. She was recuperating still, from her most recent use of the Spectral Orb. For two consecutive days and nights, she had been with Gerard in spirit and mind. She was exhausted.
Through the orb, she could feel him, but he was weak, and had been transformed somehow. He was alone, and seemingly lost in the darkness he was bound to. She spoke, and he seemed to hear her. Sometimes, he even mumbled a coherent response, but mostly, he rambled off strange phrases, or cried out in confused terror.
He was alive though, and that’s what mattered most to Shaella. She would not, could not, give up hope for him now. As soon as she rested, and regained enough strength to open the orb-way again, she would do so. At the moment though, her mind was numb. She didn’t even start when Pael appeared, suddenly and crisply, before her. In fact, she didn’t even seem to notice him there.
Pael looked at her, with a father’s eye of concern for a moment, but his attention shifted when he saw the object sitting across her lap. His Spectral Orb had been shrunk to the size of a cantaloupe, and mounted on an intricately carved wooden staff. He eased up to her curiously, and reached out to take it, but when his hand came close, the shaft flared a bright crimson arc, and bit into him sharply. Shaella jumped from her daze, and raised the staff to strike Pael.
Pael yelped in surprise and pain from the staff’s magical defense, and his head grew pink with his growing rage.
When Shaella realized who it was before her, she relaxed the staff, and made a quick apology before her father could unleash something horrible at her. As a sorceress, she was fairly powerful. She had memorized a wealth of spells, and was learning more each day. She could cast them effortlessly, and with supreme confidence, but compared to her father, she was a kitten to his saber cat. She dared not cross him. She knew that the bond they shared as father and daughter was, at best, as thin as a strand of spider’s web. His anger alone, would burn it through, before it could be checked. Especially if she provoked him.
“Father,” she said meekly, as he was trying to calm himself.
“I see you have warded MY orb well.” The stress on the word “my” wasn’t lost on Shaella, but Pael’s voice betrayed little animosity, and most of his anger had dissipated by then.
He stared at her, but the look softened. He had no further use for the orb, he decided. Xwarda’s vaults held much more powerful things, if one knew how to use them. Luckily for Pael, Shokin had that knowledge right there for him to take.