Vaegon, with the help of some tired and worrisome servants, found Dugak. It amused the elf to think that he was the strange one here, in a place as strange as any he could have imagined. To Vaegon, Dugak was the oddity among all these humans. Vaegon’s good eye might be yellow and wild looking, and his ears a bit sharp at the tips, but at least he wasn’t built like a tree trunk, with so much facial hair that only his nose poked through. How the squat, thick-bodied little people once ruled the realm, Vaegon couldn’t fathom.
He found the dwarf in the Queen’s Council chamber, where he was as shocked as he was welcome.
If Dugak, and his bearded wife, Andra, seemed strange to him, then the little, blue-skinned, winged fairy man, hovering a few feet in front of Queen Willa, left Vaegon bewildered. The tiny man was no taller than a hand span, and hovering there in the air on glassine wings that were but a blur to the eye. The sight of one of the flying fair folk, left the elf utterly speechless.
“Starkle,” Queen Willa introduced the tiny man as Vaegon approached with a wide eye and an open mouth. “This is the elf, Vaegon. Vaegon, this is Starkle. As you can see, he’s a pixie. He’s one of my most trusted advisers.”
“How do you do?” Starkle said, in a voice that was entirely too big for such a small creature.
Vaegon was awestruck. Here was this man, the size of a sparrow, wearing a white robe, tied at the waist with a golden thread. The robe’s back was split to accommodate the wings, and on his tiny feet, were laced sandals. He was half the size of the little man Talon had caught in the Evermore Forest, but his neatly cropped hair and beard were the same exact shade of dull gray.
It was all Vaegon could do to muster a response to the friendly greeting.
“I’m better than my companion seems to be,” he finally said, trying to suppress his awe with the gravity of his reasons for being there.
“Sir Vaegon is seeking the cooling stone,” Dugak announced, saving Vaegon the trouble of explaining.
“Why do you seek the cooling stone?” Queen Willa asked pointedly.
Vaegon noticed that her eyes went from his, to the sword he was carrying, and back to meet his gaze without a hint of emotion showing on her face.
Vaegon glanced around the room. It was empty, save for the four of them. He wasn’t sure what he should say, so he said as little as possible.
“I do not seek it for myself, but for my companion. The reasons are his to say.”
“So, that is the mate to the Hammer of Doon, then?” She didn’t wait for an answer to her question. “Ironspike, the westerners foolishly call it. We have waited a long time for it to find its way home.” She paused, as if remembering something. “Why didn’t it extract the demon’s essence when King Mikahl drove it into the Choska? The boy is of Pavreal’s bloodline, no?”
“Its power was drained by Mikahl’s father, in a deed performed for the benefit of the giants, and the people of Westland.”
Vaegon chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to betray Mikahl, while trying to help him. He wasn’t sure what Queen Willa was inferring by calling this Ironspike’s home either, and he was beginning to feel uneasy. He decided to lend a little weight to what he was saying.
“King Aldar, the ruler of the giant realm, told Mik – uh – King Mikahl that the sword had to be placed in the cradle it had formed in the cooling stone in order to replenish its power.”
“Dugak?” Queen Willa looked at the dwarf expectantly.
Starkle buzzed around behind Queen Willa’s head, and perched on the crown of her chair’s back. Dugak scratched at the side of his head. His whole hand disappeared into the tangle of his hair.
“It can be done, as he said, your Highness.” Dugak looked a little uncertainly at Vaegon. “The people of the deep might not like the trespass, but the sword has every right to lie in its cradle.”
“The people of the deep!” Starkle blurted out in his big, little voice. “Your people, Dugak, should have no concern over a trespass into a shallow place that they left behind and forgot.” The pixie shoved off from his seat, and took back to the air. “If the people of the deep had concerns over the cooling stone, then they should have taken it with them!”
“It’s underground,” Dugak replied, in a yielding tone, as if any argument would be futile. “Is it wrong to respect the domain of my kin? They could surface just as quickly as they went underground.”
“They’ve been to ground for centuries -”
Queen Willa waved the pixie quiet with an attempted swat.
“If your people return to blame anybody for the offense, Master Dugak, then the blame shall be mine.” She spoke diplomatically to the dwarf. “Just so there is no question, I will command you to lead Sir Vaegon to the chamber. That way, you can bear no responsibility, for you will be following my orders.”
The Queen’s voice, and expression, changed to show her distaste, as she turned to scold the little blue pixie man.
“There are not one, but two kingdom’s armies at our doorstep, Starkle. You have messages to deliver, and duties that do not include worrying about the dwarves and their domain.”
The pixie bowed in the air.
“Yes, your majesty. Please forgive me.”
Before she could respond, he was off, on a zigzagging streak towards the open door.
Dugak’s expression appeared as if it wanted to be smug, but he couldn’t quite complete the look.
The dwarves of Doon hadn’t been seen in ages, save for the small group that had wandered to the surface by accident a little over a hundred years ago. Those dwarves were Dugak and Andra’s ancestors. Those short lived dwarves, that had shown up in Xwarda by mistake, had all but died out. Half a dozen families still lived in the mountains near Jenkanta, and a handful served the kingdom here in Xwarda. The rest of the race was hopefully still living in the depths of the earth, where they had retreated after war, and the quickly growing human population drove them away.
Dugak seemed content with his orders. Vaegon couldn’t tell whether it was the act of trespass into the earth, or the idea that he might be punished for it, that had bothered the stumpy man so much. He was glad that the dwarf was taking the order seriously. Dugak wasted no time ordering preparations to be made, and supplies gathered, for their short journey out of the city.
Dugak explained that the way would only take a few hours on foot. For obvious reasons, the dwarf didn’t want to make the trek on horseback. Vaegon wasn’t disappointed with this decision. He too would rather walk. His main concern, was that he had no idea how long they would have to remain with the sword at the cooling stone. He wanted it to fully reenergize, but had no way to know if and when that state had been achieved. One thing he was certain of was that he wouldn’t leave the sword there. He told Dugak to make sure they had enough supplies for a week or more. He figured the dwarf would balk at this news, but he didn’t. Instead, Dugak was completely excited by the prospect of getting to spend a few days underground.
Vaegon started to leave Hyden a note, but remembered that his friend probably wouldn’t be able to read it. In an effort to spare Hyden Hawk the shame of having to ask someone to read it for him, he left the message verbally, with Dugak’s wife. The dwarfess, Andra, was more than happy to deliver the simple explanation of where Vaegon was going and why.
As Dugak led Vaegon down through the castle to the hidden exit, a commotion began somewhere outside the place. The dwarf did his best to dutifully ignore the hubbub, but the news that the wizard, Targon, had arrived at the gates with the Redwolf King, still found its way to his and Vaegon’s ears. Neither of them bothered to comment on the happening, because it didn’t affect their present mission one way or the other. They were about to leave the safety of Xwarda, and make a short hike east into the hills, to visit a catacomb.
Hyden stood before the boxy structure King Aldar had referred to as a temple. He was certain that the ranger had told him wrong. This place couldn’t be the temple of Whitten Loch. It was only three slab walls, with a slab roof, and a stone bench inside. The bench was placed so that one might sit on it, and watch the fountain play upon the lake’s surface. The floor and the bench were covered completely, with greenish, gray splatters of swan dung. In one corner was a nest, empty, save for a few feathers, and some broken egg shells.
As he stood there, debating whether to enter the place or not, Talon came swooping down out of the sky, and flew into it. The hawkling landed on the bench and bobbed up and down in a strange little dance, beckoning Hyden to come in. Hyden understood that Talon wanted him to sit there, so reluctantly, and with a grimace at the slime that covered the bench, he did so. The castle staff had already cleaned his leather breaches once. He hoped that they would do so again. When he sat down, he was discouraged, but then he looked out across the water,
