Rhunis was again easily recognized by the castle guards, who unlike the others were Knights of Eldalon. He dismounted and approached one of the guards with open arms.
“Theolus Klemus, what Knight of Eldalon did you steal this armor from?” laughed Rhunis as he embraced the knight and gave him a heavy pat on the back.
“I was promoted from city guard last week,” said Theolus.
“Long overdue, I say, long overdue indeed.”
“I’ve been on this post for five days, you know, ordered to wait for you and your friends. Damn glad I am to see you finally arrive unharmed.”
Rhunis raised his unscarred eyebrow. “Ordered to wait for us, eh? Then that means you can show us to warm beds. We’ve had a long journey and wish nothing more than sleep on a soft bed.”
“Considering the companions you travel with, I imagine your stories will be worth more than a dwarf’s hoard-forgive the analogy, good sir,” Theolus added hastily to Roakore. “But word had it, Rhunis, that you left Fendale chasing the pirate Captain Cirrosa. And news came just hours ago about a battle within the port town of Sherna.”
Rhunis chuckled. “Amazing how word can travel faster than horses. You’ll hear those stories and more, my friend, but not this night. We are weary and wish to be led to our boarding.”
Theolus gave a disappointed sigh but smiled. “Of course. Follow me.” He led them beyond the castle gates and then past seven more.
“The eight castle gates of the Castle of Kell-Torey,” Whill mumbled under his breath. Seeing the immense gates, he understood how the castle and city had survived hundreds of years of war. Whole armies could try for weeks to get through to no avail, losing thousands in the process. More than a thousand years before during the War of Eztule, the Eztulian army had advanced as far as the fourth gate. But early one morning, two weeks into the siege, the horns of the Ky’Dren dwarves had rung out and the fourth gate opened. Side by side the dwarves and humans fought, as they had countless times before, and by nightfall Eztule had been defeated. The losses for both sides had been great. Much of Kell-Torey had been destroyed, along with half its army. Of the ten thousand dwarves who marched to defend their neighbors, only three thousand returned, without their beloved King Korzonn. Both dwarf and human songs spoke of the dwarf king, and both say he took more than one hundred of the Eztule with him before he fell.
Whill recited the story to Tarren as Roakore bowed to the fifteen-foot statue of Korzonn, which stood tall and proud atop the fourth gate. It had been made of steel and encrusted in gold leaf from the axe tip to the boots. Korzonn stood defiantly, his axe at the ready and fire in his eyes. Whill guessed that many foes had fallen to the crazed dwarf, frozen with fear. As if on cue, Roakore, Abram, Whill, Rhunis, Avriel and Zerafin slammed their fists to their chests and bent slightly in unison. Tarren mimicked the action with a serious expression.
Beyond the gates lay the courtyard, which was huge even by the standards of a castle, for the Castle of Kell-Torey more resembled a small village than anything else. The courtyard held hundreds of buildings-housing for soldiers, weapon storehouses, training rooms, and the like. To his right Whill noticed an immense archery range, which he made a mental note to visit; to the left stood one of many stables. The companions dismounted as Theolus instructed the stableboy and called for servants to take the luggage.
They were led into the foyer of the castle, which opened into a large greeting room. The ceiling was more than fifty feet high, from which hung a brilliant chandelier holding hundreds of candles. Before them was a staircase wide enough to accommodate ten men abreast. It went up twenty feet and split into three separate stairs, one going straight and the others veering off to the left and right. Upon the walls hung many portraits of kings and queens past, along with the banner of Eldalon and its other major cities.
Theolus led them up the middle stair. “You will be staying in the royal guest suites, of course,” he said, leading them down a hallway off the stair. After a few minutes they turned right once again and finally came to a large wooden door. Theolus led the companions through it and to their rooms before bidding them all good night.
Whill entered his room with Tarren in tow. Without even a look around, he fell upon the bed and quickly went to sleep, exhausted by the long journey.
Roakore lay upon his bed, which was too big and too soft. He could not sleep and found that he was not tired in the least. Since Whill had “helped” him with his wounds, he had found himself full of energy. He mumbled to himself as he tossed and turned. He had been healed by elf ways, he knew. He cursed under his breath at the thought of it. What would his people think, what would his father think? Here he was, lone heir to the throne of the Ebony Mountains, and he had gotten himself wounded in a battle aiding humans.
Roakore was sure his wounds had not been grave, but then there was Whill’s aid. Deep down Roakore knew that Whill had used his elf-like powers to heal his broken ribs. That made it twice that he had been healed. That would not do. Roakore promised himself that he would save the lives of Avriel and Whill and even the score before this cursed business was through.
Five days they had until the meeting. What in Ky’Dren’s name was a dwarf to do in a human city for five days? Roakore huffed, threw back his covers, and got up from his too-soft bed.
Whill awoke abruptly and looked around at his surroundings. He did not recognize where he was, but then remembered he was in Kell-Torey. Next to him, sleeping soundly, was Tarren. There came a knock at the door and Whill got up and answered it. He opened the door to find an older-looking man wearing purple robes. He was bald but for short white hair about his temples and the back of his head. He looked to be in his sixties. He wore no facial hair but for his bushy eyebrows, and his face had seen too many winters. But his eyes were kind, his smile bright, and Whill knew that the man before him did not feel as old as half his years.
“Good day, Whill,” the man said with a bow. “My name is Johanah, and I have been appointed as your servant for the entirety of your stay here.” Before Whill could argue that he did not need a servant, Johanah continued, “And may I say that it is a great honor to serve one such as you.”
Whill could only offer a thank you and a nod. “I am on call all hours of the day or night for anything you might need,” Johanah said. “So please do not hesitate to call upon me. You need only call and I will answer swiftly.” Whill then noticed the chair that sat outside his door on the right. He then realized that his servant literally sat waiting instruction.
“Have you been waiting here all night?”
“Of course I have, sir.”
“And this is where you will wait until I call.”
“Of course, sir, unless I require bodily relief, for which of course I will ask permission.”
“You don’t have to do that. I mean, I will get along fine. You need not spend your days and nights waiting on me.”
Johanah looked puzzled, even hurt. “But I must, sir. I have been ordered to serve you and the lad Tarren as long as you sleep within these walls.” He bowed his head sadly and took a deep breath. “I can assure you, my age in no way inhibits my duties. My family has served the kings for seven generations, sir. We are the best at what we do, renowned even. Please do not send me away, good sir. I will serve you well, I promise.”
Whill put up a defensive hand. “No, no, it’s not that. I am sure you are excellent at what you do. It is just I am not used to such treatment.”
Johanah’s head was bowed in shame, his eyes on the floor. Whill knew he had upset the old man. He put a hand upon Johanah’s shoulder and said what he knew he must to give the man his dignity once again.
“I am sure you will serve me well, Johanah. I am glad to have one such as you in my service. Forgive my ignorance in such matters.”
Johanah lit up once again. “Thank you, good sir, but it is not my place to forgive you for anything, only to thank you.”
Whill nodded with a half-hearted smile. This would take some getting used to.
“Do you or the lad require anything at this time, good sir.”
Whill thought for a moment. What would someone of his apparent stature ask of a servant? “We could use fresh bath water, and our clothes need to be washed. Some fruit and eggs and bread would do also, please.”
Johanah visibly cringed at the word please, and Whill made the connection. One did not say please to a servant.
“It is now seven in the morning. The king asks that you and your friends join him for breakfast at nine. Shall I send confirmation?”
