Dark Echoes of Light by Michael James Ploof

Author:Michael James Ploof [Ploof, Michael James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Traveling Bard Publishing
Published: 2017-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Trouble at Home

Roakore smiled when he and his sons stepped through the portal and saw the peak of his beloved mountain. He had only been gone from Agora for a few months, but now he was realizing how much he had missed it. For this was home. And though the world was large and its wonders endless, Agora would always be home.

“Ah,” said Ardmar. “It be Ro’Sar.”

“It be home,” said Denmar with a sniffle.

There were a dozen dwarves guards watching the portal, and when they saw their old king walk through, they promptly lowered their weapons.

“Any disturbances?” Roakore asked the closest guard. “Anythin’…ye know, been comin’ to and fro from this here portal?”

“Nothing, sire. We keep a good eye on it too, we do.”

“Aye, then. Keep up the good work.”

He mounted Silverwind and together with his sons flew for the mountain peak. As they approached, Silverwind gave a coo and banked toward the perch nestled high near the peak of the mountain. She landed deftly and proceeded to rush over to her favorite perch and kick out the silver hawk sleeping there.

“Ah, be nice,” said Roakore as he dismounted.

“Me king!” said the hawk trainer as he came rushing in from the adjoining saddle shop. “Me king!” he said again excitedly.

“Aye, it be me. Go on and fetch some feed and hawksbane. Some water too. And tell the nearest guard to report my arrival to me son, the king.”

“Aye, me king, aye. Glad to have ye home, sire, if I might be sayin’.”

“Ye may be sayin’, and it be good to be back.”

After seeing that the hawks were comfortable, Roakore and his sons met with Helzendar, who greeted them in his study, one that had been used by every king of the Ro’Sar Mountains going back for generations.

“Hello Father, me king,” said Helzendar, slamming his fist to his chest and similarly greeting his brothers.

“Aye, Helzendar, me boy. Ye look like ye’ve grown since I last saw ye,” said Roakore, moving to the bar and its vast collection of rare and expensive spirits.

“I don’t know about all that, but I can tell ye I might’ve aged a little. I never understood how much work went into bein’ a king.”

“Aye, the crown brings many a sleepless night.” Roakore poured four drinks and gathered his sons around the bar. “To me sons, the best lads a dwarf could ever hope for.”

They clanged glasses and tossed them back. All the while, Helzendar watched his father. He knew something was up, but he was waiting for Roakore to tell it on his own time.

Roakore cleared his throat. The words that he had to say were like bile. “I got some bad news, Helz. We…we had to evacuate the mountain.”

Helzendar blanched. “Ky’Dren’s beard, Pa, what was it that drove ye out? Tell me it just be noxious gasses, and not the draggard.”

“It weren’t the draggard. It be somethin’ new, some kind o’ telepathic creature. Albinos we be callin’ ‘em, on account o’ their pale skin and red eyes.

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