The Keystone: Close the World Enter the Next. World Two of the Seven Worlds.

By Glen Johnson and Gary Johnson

The Keystone is the second instalment in an epic seven-book dark fantasy adventure.

Book 1: The Gateway.
Book 2: The Keystone.
Book 3: Elven Jewel.
Book 4: The Sleeping Gods.
Book 5: The Turquoise Abyss.
Book 6: Oceans of Fire.
Book 7: Journeys End.

WORLD TWO

It is a world of Gods, untamed magic, sorcerers, dragons, vast desert plains, dry valleys and deep ravines, populated by humans and dwarves.

THE DARK ARMY

A long-dormant kingdom has awoken, sending out dark armies of inhuman beasts, controlled by a Black Keystone of ancient legends. The two races have to join together as in times long past, but strong prejudice and hatred now separates them.

THE ALLIANCE

The two brothers find themselves between raging battles and join forces with an unlikely alliance of dwarves and humans, sent on a mission to find the mystical Red Keystone, their only means for survival; traveling beyond an immense wall that is protected by symbols that are the answer to an ancient riddle.

THE TRUE DRAGONS

But beyond the wall are creatures even more vile, ancient and powerful that have to stay contained at all costs, for the sake of all seven worlds.

And who is the strange bedraggled old man with his pet dragon?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glen Johnson
• Release date: Dec 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311376695

Glen Johnson

Glen Johnson was born in Devon, England in 1973. He is the author of 55 fiction and non-fiction books. In August 2014, he gave away all his belongings and bought a backpack and he started travelling around Southeast Asia. While he travels, he helps charitable organizations, writing and releasing books about their foundations, leaving them with all the royalties. His first charity book is called Soi Dog: The Story Behind Asia’s Largest Animal Welfare Shelter and it’s available in ebook and paperback worldwide. He has also started to release a series of books about his travel adventures as they unfold, and Living the Dream: Part One – Khaosan Road, Thailand, and Part Two – Krabi, Thailand is available from all good ebook retailers. He also loves to travel and has spent over eleven years living and travelling around the world – so far, he has explored forty-three different countries. At present, he lives in Bangkok, Thailand, but he has also lived in Mexico, Malaysia, Laos, Cambodia, and Singapore. He is also the lead writer on the development team for a new computer game called The Seed (2018), from the creators of the award-winning S.T.A.L.K.E.R Misery mod.Why not add Glen as a friend on Facebook. From his author’s page, you can keep up to date with all his new releases and when his kindle books are free on Amazon. He checks it daily, so pop on and say hello. Don’t be shy, he’s friendly and accepts friend requests.www.facebook.com/GlenJohnsonAuthorwww.facebook.com/RedSkullPublishing and all good ebook retailers.Glen has published 174 books worldwide (via two publishing companies he owns). 55 are his own work; the other 119 are modern-classic-fiction books that can be found on all good eBook and paperback retailers.Books Released by Sinuous Mind Books, and Coming Soon –Books released under his real name Glen JohnsonNON-FICTION BOOKS –CHARITY BOOKS (with Gary Johnson)Soi Dog – The Story Behind Asia’s Largest Animal Welfare Shelter (2015)BEES Elephants Sanctuary: A Haven for Old and Retired Elephants (Coming Soon)TRAVEL BOOKS (with Gary Johnson)Living the Dream 1 – Khaosan Road – Thailand (2015)Living the Dream 2 – Krabi – Thailand (2019)Living the Dream 3 – Penang – Malaysia (Coming Soon)FICTION BOOKS –APOCALYPTIC/DYSTOPIAN/HORRORTHE SIXTH EXTINCTION SERIES (A #1 Best Seller on Amazon UK Horror Short Stories)The Sixth Extinction 1 – Outbreak (2013)The Sixth Extinction 2 – Ruin (2013)The Sixth Extinction 3 – Infested (2013)The Sixth Extinction 4 – The Ark (2013)The Sixth Extinction 1-4 – Omnibus Edition (2013)THE SIXTH EXTINCTION: THE FIRST THREE WEEKS SERIES (A #1 Best Seller on Amazon UK Horror Short stories)The Sixth Extinction Series: The First Three Weeks 1 – Noah’s Story (2013)The Sixth Extinction Series: The First Three Weeks 2 – Red’s Story (2013)The Sixth Extinction Series: The First Three Weeks 3 – Betty and Lennie’s Story (2013)The Sixth Extinction Series: The First Three Weeks 4 – Doctor Lazaro’s Story (2013)The First Three Weeks 1-4 – Omnibus Edition (2013)THE SIXTH EXTINCTION & THE FIRST THREE WEEKS SERIES OMNIBUS (A #1 Best Seller on Amazon UK Horror Short stories)The Sixth Extinction & The First Three Weeks 1-8 – Omnibus Edition (2013)The Sixth Extinction & The First Three Weeks & The Sixth Extinction America 1-12 – Omnibus Edition (2014)The Sixth Extinction & The First Three Weeks & The First Three Weeks The Squads Stories & The Sixth Extinction America & The Seven Seeds of the Gods 1-23 – Omnibus Edition (2017)THE SIXTH EXTINCTION: THE FIRST THREE WEEKS – THE SQUADThe Sixth Extinction Series: The First Three Weeks – The Squad – Echo’s Story (2014)The Sixth Extinction Series: The First Three Weeks – The Squad – Coco’s Story (2014)THE SIXTH EXTINCTION: AMERICA SERIES (A #1 Best Seller on Amazon UK Horror Short stories)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part One: The Black Spores (2014)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Two: False Hope (2014)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Three: The Pods (2014)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Four: The Long Road (2014)The Sixth Extinction: America – 1-4 Omnibus Edition (2014)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Five: No Turning Back (2015)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Six: A Friend in Need (2015)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Seven: All Aboard (2015)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Eight: New Hope (2015)The Sixth Extinction: America – 1-8 Omnibus Edition (2015)The Sixth Extinction: America – 1-20 Omnibus Edition (2016)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Nine: Keep Running (2016)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Ten: Don’t Look Back (2016)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Eleven: Resurrection (2016)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Twelve: Alliance (2018)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Thirteen: Abandon (2019)The Sixth Extinction: America – Part Fourteen: Burn (Coming Soon)THE SIXTH EXTINCTION: BOOK EXTRASThe Sixth Extinction: The Seven Seeds of the Gods. Book One – Ancient Egypt (2016)The Sixth Extinction: The Seven Seeds of the Gods. Book Two – Ancient Mayan (Coming Soon)The Sixth Extinction: One Year On (England) (Coming Soon)The Sixth Extinction: Clarkson’s Discovery (Coming Soon)THE ENDLESS SERIESEndless: Part One – Sorrow (2019)Endless: Part Two – Fear (Coming Soon)Endless: Part Three - Anger (Coming Soon)THE EVENT SERIESThe Event: Part One – The Last Hope (2019)The Event: Part Two – Crashing Down (Coming Soon)THE HUMAN NATURE SERIES (A #1 Best Seller on Amazon UK Horror Short Stories)Lamb Chops and Chainsaws – Vol.1 (2012)Lobsters and Landmines – Vol.2 (2012)French Fries and Flamethrowers – Vol.3 (2014)The Human Nature Series 1-3 – Omnibus Edition (2014)Backpacks and Body Bags – Vol.4 (Coming Soon)THE EXTREME HUMAN NATURE SERIES (Extreme Horror Short Stories)Condoms and Cabbages (2015)GHOST (Short Stories)Sea of Trees (2017)Child Angels (2018)Tall Ghosts (2020)The Lost Cat (2023)HORROR (Short Stories)Quarantine (2020)Laugh Out Loud (2021)Secrets and Lies (2021)Blood Lotus (With Hathairat Phuekhiran – 2023)HORRORThe Watchers (2014)THE WAR OF THE GOD’S SERIESWar of the Gods 1 – The Devil’s Tarots (2012)War of the Gods 2 – Lilith’s Revenge (Coming Soon)THE SEVEN WORLDS SERIES (with Gary Johnson)The Gateway – World One (2014)The Keystone – World Two (2015)Even Jewel – World Three (2017)The Sleeping Gods – World Four (Coming Soon)The Turquoise Abyss – World Five (Coming Soon)Oceans of Fire – World Six (Coming Soon)Journeys End – World Seven (Coming Soon)THE SPELL OF BINDING SERIESThe Spell of Binding – Part One (2012)The Spell of Binding – Part Two (Coming Soon)THE PARKINGDOM SERIESParkingdom – Book One (2012)Parkingdom – Book Two (Coming Soon)OTHER BOOKSTales from the Lake Vol.2. Short Story: Prime Cuts (A mixed horror anthology with 18 other writers – published by Crystal Lake Publishing. 2016)Books released under the pseudonym J.G. NewtonEROTIC PLEASURES SERIES (#1 Best Seller on Amazon USA and UK Erotic/Suspense)Guilty Pleasures: Erotic Pleasures Series (2014)Dirty Pleasures: Erotic Pleasures Series (2014)Secret Pleasures: Erotic Pleasures Series (2014)Kinky Pleasures: Erotic Pleasures Series (2014)Erotic Pleasures Series 1-4 – Omnibus Edition (2014)EROTIC MONSTERS SERIES (#1 Best Seller on Amazon USA and UK Erotic/Suspense/Horror/Humorous)Frankenstein’s Monster: Erotic Monsters Series (2014)Dracula’s Lover: Erotic Monsters Series (2014)Mummy’s Desire: Erotic Monsters Series (Coming Soon)Werewolf’s Lust: Erotic Monsters Series (Coming Soon)COMPUTER GAMETHE SEEDGlen Johnson is on the development team as the lead writer (eight writers) for a new computer game series called The Seed. The Seed is a story-driven post-apocalyptic video game set in Eastern Europe in 2026. It’s a single-player 2D interactive novel, deeply rooted in HEXACO psychology – it showcases the gravity of choice. It’s by the same team that created the award-winning game S.T.A.L.K.E.R. Misery mod.The Seed: Act 1 (2018)The Seed: Act 2 (Coming Soon)The Seed: Act 3 (Coming Soon)If you need to get hold of Glen Johnson, email him on: [e-mail]

Book preview

Prologue

REGRETS

Many things we do in our short lives that we look back on with remorse, with sadness. We were young; we didn’t know or we simply didn’t understand. Sometimes we just didn’t care.

Few things, if we really had the chance to, we would change. Everything, some say, happens for a reason, makes us what we are, what we have become.

Something’s we knew would happen because of the course of action we had taken. Logic shouted at us about its outcome.

Most experiences though are unique. Most wouldn’t understand, even if you tried to explain it to them. It’s like when you are trying to tell someone about something funny that happened to you, they stare at you with a blank expression thinking you’ve gone mad. You end up saying, You had to be there.

Few believe in Fate, even less would admit it. Even fewer believe in Destiny. But what happened to my brother and I would fit into no other category. A simple night, one like no other, turning into a night we could never recapture, never undue, and never escape from. But we continually try.

We became entangled in something far deeper, and far larger than our simple, mundane lives. We passed from one world to another; a world like our own but at the same time vastly different. A world ruled by a self-proclaimed Lord – a God, he would say. He enslaved all those indigenous to that world, a world of magic and pain. But luckily for us, also hope.

But Fate had her hand in our affairs. Destiny riding on our backs. We were supposedly in the right place at the right time – Destiny laughing loudly in our ears. There was a prophecy proclaiming our coming – our results.

It was once said that the futures always moving, unclear. Most of what was spoken came true, even though it had a strange sense of humor, hidden between the lines.

The world was liberated, returning to some previous semblance of order.

We found out many truths. We had to search deep within ourselves, not always liking what we found. But we pulled through; we survived. Are we stronger? Who knows? Did we learn from our experiences? It is too early to say. But I would like to think so.

Now we are about to pass to the next world in line, the next world apparently needing water.

What will await us? Is Lady Fate holding hands with Destiny, awaiting our arrival? It’s anyone’s guess. Will we survive? I pray so. But after everything I have witnessed, I’m not sure whether I believe in God anymore. Let’s just hope – that if he does exist – he still believes in me!*

*An excerpt, taken from Ethan’s journal: written while waiting to enter the second Gateway.

THE

KEYSTONE

Chapter One

THE BLACK DEATH

Cries ring out in the still morning air, mixed with the shrilling tolls of the alarm bells, mounted in the western valley pass. These give a forewarning to any impending danger. As suddenly as they started the bells were silenced, now only a fading distant echo.

The city was full to its limits. The four smaller cities of the Mountain Kingdoms were called together to the main fortified city of Domisian, ruled by King Sosamon.

But only two groups arrived just over two days ago from the two northern cities, high up in the Domisian passes. The other two groups, from the two other cities – from the lower passes down south – did not arrive as prearranged. This gave way to speculations and rumors. Which were proved true the evening after when a small handful of around forty turned up at the gates of Domisian.

They were a pitiful sight, terrified beyond belief, in torn blood-soaked clothes, having only just escaped with their lives. They spoke of a dark army of inhuman beasts, tall black, clawed creatures that walked on their hind legs, and how these creatures had attacked their city without warning or provocation, just as they were leaving to make their way to the fortified city of Domisian.

Most were already out of the city when the attack started. Those that survived had made it to the forest section of the trail, where they proceeded to scatter and hide. Then, after dark, they regrouped and started to make their way towards the kingdoms capitals fortified city, while only traveling at night.

As they made their way across the pass, they could hear the screaming, echoing down the valley, right throughout the night, until finally it stopped. Then as they peered through the tree line, towards their homes, they could see a red light glowing, brightening up the cold night sky, followed by the reflection by the moon’s light of a huge pillar of dense smoke, emanating from the remains of their once proud city.

This drove the refugees on, this and the fear of being pursued, until finally they reached the safety of Domisian. Some believed they were spared to pass on a message, the message of destruction – a warning of some kind.

Word of all this spread quickly throughout the huge city of Domisian. Panic set in. Some refused the safety the towering city offered, saying it would do nothing to stop the advancing army of dark demons. Many hearing their words – and seeing the fear in their eyes – fled along with them. Two hundred and seventy-four left altogether in one large group, crossing the Hapsuim Pass, leading down towards the kingdom of the Plains, towards the city of Raemaner.

Those that were left behind – too fearful to run and too weak to fight – were placed in the old part of the city. The city was ancient, and generation after generation had added to it. It perched on a huge valley cleft, looking as if it was about to topple into the ravine below at any moment.

The city started before recorded time. Their ancestors dug into the very mountain itself, and also enlarged existing natural caves. These eventually – as time went on – spilled out onto the mountain ledge. Over the passage of generations of building and expanding, there now sat an immense, hand built fortified city, part inside the mountain, the rest clinging precariously to it. The city also made use of three natural ridges that ran its entire length, making its outer wall, which was almost forty feet high, and two inner walls of thirty feet high. The city eventually made it all the way past the first two walls, having to stop at the tallest; then could go no further.

The city had three main gates. Two were twenty-feet high iron gates that were bored through the first two walls, which until today hadn’t been closed for as long as most could remember, they didn’t even know if it’s huge eight foot high hinges would even move, time having corroded them together. But they were well maintained, and hardly groaned when sixty men, using ropes pulled them shut.

Also, as part of its strong defense, there was a narrow bridge that was the only means of access to the fortified metropolis. Naturally formed by waters long forgotten, which eroded the valley below. Most of the mountain collapsed as its foundations were eaten away. All that remained was the narrow stretch of arched stone, making up the bridge, that joined Domisian to the mountain pass opposite; over a hundred meters away. This bridge was the only way into the city, apart from descending a vertical cliff of over a thousand metres. The eleven tunnels leading out onto the Plains of Casos were plugged up. So the advancing army had to churn over this one bridge. The bridge was sixteen feet wide, and had a five-foot wall running both sides to stop people falling over the edge, as the mighty wind blew down the high ridge walls on either side.

Also as a line of defense, at the end of the bridge was a thirty-foot tunnel, which was bored straight through the thick wall leading to the city’s gateway. Running all along this tunnels roofs were slits, where arrows could be fired or hot tar poured onto the head of those approaching; as well as stones and other projectiles. And just before the gateway a part of the bridge had been removed and replaced with a drawbridge, being over twenty-five foot long, leaving a gap plummeting down into the darkness of the ravine below.

All this led to the main gate, three feet thick with metal spikes on the outside, over a foot in length. The mechanism for opening the gate was built by dwarves from the far away kingdom of Frondar. It operated on a pendulum mechanism, with eight tons of rock on a seesaw counterweight, making it impossible to open from the outside.

Even with all this protection the outer wall encircling half the city was crammed full of men holding crossbows, bows and arrows, and long javelins. Besides the archers, were small terracotta pots full of tar, ready to be ignited, to send flaming arrows at the encroaching army. Also the middle section of the narrow bridge had been doused in tar, so as the army advanced the archers would, with a single arrow, set the bridge – and all upon it – up in devouring flames, stopping them dead in their approach.

All women and children, along with the old and invalids, were secured inside the mountain’s vast caves. With all the able-bodied men up and ready upon the battlements, ready to fight, to defend their loved ones and their homes.

The valley passes bells had rung, where was the advancing army? All they could do is wait and stay alert.

The mist slowly crept over the valley walls; it was then swept away by the light morning breeze, trailing off in long wisps into the hazy morning air, with the sun starting to rise from behind the opposite mountain range; the soft morning light was causing the first shadows to start appearing on the city’s towering fortified walls.

Suddenly, a horn could be heard, sounding out through the morning stillness.

Then just as suddenly, hundreds upon hundreds of tall dark silhouettes appeared on the opposite mountain ridge, with the sun behind them giving them the benefit of having the sun at their backs. They just stood there, silently; slightly leaning forward. The towering figures were an impressive and harrowing sight, standing nine or so feet tall, with wide shoulders and long powerful arms that lay placid at their sides. Their combined warm breaths creating tall plumes of steam, rising into the frosty morning air.

On the city walls, all waited, as they witnessed this inhuman army that was encroaching upon them. They fidgeted with their weapons. The tar pots in front of them now burning, ready for the arrows to be dipped in. And those below the wall line waited with arms full of arrows and javelins, ready to be passed up and spent on the invaders.

All was still.

All was quiet. The kind of silence you get when men contemplate the meaning of life; knowing full well that they might not live to see the day through.

In the distance, a large Cramier bird silently flew through the valley pass. It’s high-pitched call echoing off the high valley walls. It flew between the two groups. Then carried on towards its feeding grounds, oblivious to all that was about to transpire below it.

Abruptly, in one swift movement, all the standing silhouettes moved and began pouring down the side of the opposite mountain, taking tremendous leaps and bounds down the rock face, like vile flowing black water pouring forth. They soon descended upon the small bridge, churning across it, filling it to its brim. With matted manes of black hair flying behind them, and clawed hands gripping the bridge walls pulling themselves along. But no noise came from the beasts; no bloodcurdling screams, and no howling. In a way, those in the city would have preferred some kind of noise, compared to the silence issuing off these evil creatures.

The archers waited. Tendons on their bows pulled to their limits, with burning arrows nestled waiting to be released.

All stood poised.

Everyone was holding their breath.

Then as the beasts reached the middle of the bridge, the archers released the built-up tension, sending the arrows flying towards their intended targets. They rained down upon the churning army, who had just passed the halfway mark on the bridge. Burning arrows struck the first oncoming wave, sinking into heads, arms, through legs, and between ribcage’s. Blood rained down all around – countless fell forward twisting and reeling in pain.

Dozens toppled from the bridge, some taking sections of the wall with them. In the confusion and pushing many more fell from the open gaps. Even as they fell no noise issued from their throats. As falling burning bodies hit the bridge surface the tar became inflamed. What the arrows hadn’t hit the flames now devoured. Black masses of burning creatures tumbled from the bridge. The flames were being fed by hair, skin and body fat. Flames flared backwards, leaping from body to thrashing body.

Soon the bridge was nothing but a burning mass of charred remains, with black stinking smoke blowing across the ravine towards the city and the archers, momentarily blinding them from their targets. As the valley wind blew it started to turn the black foul smoke towards another direction, away from the city walls. The archers could once again see the bridge and their targets.

But now coming across it was the second wave of hideous, brutal beasts. These were using their clawed hands and feet to grip the rocky surface of the bridge, and pull themselves across underneath, hanging from under the surface. They were now using the bridge itself for protection from the flaming arrows, which were now simply bouncing off the hard stone surface.

As the dark figures came close to the city’s outer wall, they started to fling themselves physically against the rough surface, using brute force to wedge their clawed fingers and clawed feet between the small cracks in the cliff face. Now armies of dark creatures were surging up the fortified walls themselves.

The archers had to lean over the wall and fire downwards, at an unnatural angle for releasing arrows. Some hit their mark, beasts dying before they even released their grip. Others were hit causing them to loosen their hold on the wall, plummeting to their death far below.

Some soldiers, having given up with the bows, were now pouring the flaming tar down the walls, drenching the oncoming wave with burning fire. Some were hit and were burned alive. Others had to navigate around the blazing sections of rock.

There were just too many of them. Wave after black wave were pouring off the opposite mountain, like ants from a vast towering nest. Before the archers or javelin throwers had chance to rearm themselves; pull another arrow from their quiver, another two dark figures had already replaced the one they had just killed.

Some creatures climbing up the wall had many arrows sticking in them, if they didn’t hit the head or vital organs, then they just carried on coming with a long streak of blood trailing down the wall behind them.

Then the first wave reached the top of the wall and jumped the lip onto the ramparts, next to the bowmen. The archers, not expecting to have to fight hand-to-hand combat, had only bow and arrows. The few that were lucky enough to have knives on them soon realized that they were as useful as toothpicks against these black creatures, which stood over two feet taller than them, and rippled with bulging muscles. The archers and javelin throwers were torn limb from limb. Some even jumped rather than die at the hands of serrated teeth from these creatures.

The dark army had access to the main city’s outer ring.

Swordsmen clad in battle armor ran forward slicing at the foul creatures, taking many down. Men with twelve-foot pikes came running and scouring through the beasts, sometimes two at a time. The inner city’s second wall of defense came into play. Archers upon this smaller wall started to pick off the creatures one by one; aiding their companions on the ground below. The outer second inner-city wall was just holding up under the onslaught.

King Sosamon sat at a wooden table in the northern tower, his trembling hand writing as the carnage outside unfolded. He finished the short letter and sealed it with red wax and pressed his ring into it and then placed it in a small wicker container; using a strip of leather, he tied it to the carrier bird’s leg. These particular birds were specially raised. They were paired with another bird just after hatching; these birds then joined for life. After a number of years, once they’d grown to maturity together, they were then separated, with both birds being taken to separate kingdoms. When a message needed to be sent, the bird simply had the message tied to it, then released. The bird had a gift of being able to search for its particular mate anywhere within large sections of land – or even in different kingdoms. How they did this was a mystery.

All the King had to do was pick a bird that had a mate in the particular kingdom he needed to communicate with. He chose one that would head off in the Prackos Empires direction.

Walking to the open window he looked out across the battle below. Sosamon released his grip on the bird, releasing it into the smoke-filled air, where it started to head towards its destination. He then turned, removed his sword from its scabbard, and headed for the open door.

Outside the archers, swordsmen and men holding long pikes were doing the best they could. It was starting to look like they might be getting the upper hand. It even seemed like they were managing to push the creatures back.

When suddenly an archer turned and fired behind him. Confused, the King turned facing the direction of the impassable cliff face. Upon it, thousands of dark figures could be seen descending its vertical face, using their claws to gain purchase, as they quickly descended into the very heart of the city.

Out numbered over a hundred to one, the battle was quickly over. Blood stained almost every surface. Dismembered limbs littered the stone ground. Weapons lay in cold hands.

The caves were quickly emptied of all living beings; their corpses thrown out onto the streets. Not one living soul was left breathing. Blood ran in small rivers down the city’s narrow avenues.

Once all were dead the creatures turned their attention to the city itself, starting with the false temples, which were torn apart with their bare hands. Idols were thrown from the city walls to smash on the valley floor, far down below in the ravine.

When the entire city was destroyed, they heaped the bodies up into huge piles inside the temples and then set them alight. Piles of blood-soaked bodies, men, woman and children, twisted beyond recognition; they became burning incense sacrifices for Septon, their Great Goddess of War.

Zratous – High Commander of the fourth division of the holy army – stood on top the northern tower and surveyed all the carnage, which lay around him. He gazed down upon the many fires burning all around the city; thick dark smoke rising heavenwards, a pleasing gift for their Goddess.

He’d just finished writing a letter with the blood of one of the fallen heretics – their very King, who he had only just killed with his bare hands, after the last part of the city was finally taken. The letter announced another pagan city had fallen. He attached it to one of the six armored legs of the waiting hammerhorn, and sent the large flying insect on its way, back to the Kingdom of Carmour to deliver its message to their awaiting High Priestess – the ruling Queen – Salos.

The conquest has begun.

Chapter Two

JUST A DROP

"Away with you. Am I too old to brush my own beard? I think not." He turned, and with his wrinkled hand picked up the brush that was carved from the black ivory tusk of a hammerhorn. But as he did so it slipped from his hold, clattering loudly to the stone floor.

Sometimes you are so stubborn Cemonsus, the visitor said, who had sneaked in as the servant ran cowering from the room leaving the door ajar.

Lord Drungar. I’m sorry; I didn’t hear you enter, Cemonsus said, as he placed one gnarled old hand on the wooden table to help lower him to a wrinkled old knee.

Like all dwarfs, Drungar was stout and wide, with a large belly and broad shoulders, and thick arms and legs. His beard was dark brown and hung past his belly. Little of his face could be seen through the facial hair.

Bah. You have no need to kneel before me, Cemonsus, Drungar stated, reaching out a hand to bring his friend – and long time confidant – back up to his sitting position.

I am not too old as to not kneel before my King, am I? he replied folding the worn pleat of his sleeping gown to one side to cover his short white naked legs.

You are too old, and many a year wiser to me, and what’s more, a trusted friend. And don’t try to stand, I will sit next to you. See here a padded chair, I will pull it over to sit upon, while we speak of things to come and the things which have passed.

Come now it is too early in the light of day, and by the looks of you last night was not one spent sleeping, as any sensible dwarf would do. So speak of what you come to say? Release your lips and let us bring forth the things that lay heavy on our king’s heart. Things that keep him from his needed slumber. Cemonsus folded his hands in his lap.

I see we are straight to the point this morning, Cemonsus, the king replied as he positioned himself comfier in the chair.

I am three hundred and four years old, with seventeen cycles and nine clicks to my name. I am the oldest dwarf in the whole of Frondar, and throughout all the Plains of Neboem and the long valley of Simparo, I have not time to soften my words, for they may very well be my last.

Not likely, you are as hard as granite, you will out live most of us. Drungar laughed.

At that the king quickly stood and walked to the small window – which was one of the few in the whole city. Cemonsus had it bored through the wall. Some said it was just a sign of his old age – madness. It was unnatural for a dwarf to seek sunlight, normally dwarfs were more comfy with a mountain above their head. Some never saw direct sunlight in their entire life’s.

Drungar pulled the shutters closed, fumbling with the unfamiliar catch. Outside another sandstorm was brewing, with lightning crackling off the mountains in the distance.

I will never get used to the Season of Storms, so violent and such anger they carry, Cemonsus said as Drungar retook his seat.

Yes, violent. They used to be less damaging to our city. Now after each storm has passed, I have to send the army scouts around the city walls, checking for cracks caused from the lightning bolts.

Hmm, lightning and storms, this is not the reason you came to my humble bedchamber at this early hour. Is it? He sat staring straight at Drungar; this always caused him to give way and say what’s really on his mind.

Yes, and no.

Cryptic. You know how fond I am of word games, but I think it’s a bit early in the day for them, Cemonsus said stroking his long white beard with a dried-up wrinkled hand, which had varicose veins you could trip over, laced over its back.

It’s partly because of the storms that I’m here? Checking the Great Lake, we find it’s lower than it’s been in a long time, by now it should be full. But the storms are not bringing as much water with them as they usually do, instead it rains down sand and small stones. It has become clear that there’s not enough water in the Great Lake to carry us through the Season of Dryness. He lowered his head. As he did he noticed the brush that lay on the floor. He reached down and picked it back up, placing it on the wooden table next to the old adviser.

Ah. So I presume Shran the Grey wishes to speak with you on this very matter? he said, taking the brush and putting it in its proper place.

I see you still have ears at council?

No just plain logic. He must be as concerned as you, I presume?

I hope so. We have had only one battle in living history, in the days of the Dark Hours when the rain didn’t come at all. Over a hundred years ago, and I was in the Age of Growing, and my father was still alive. He lowered his head. May Thor rest his mighty soul. He looked at the window shutters as the storm blew mightily upon them. The hinges held under the onslaught. The noise was getting louder. So they both had to raise their voices slightly to be heard.

And that battle was long and laid many a good dwarf in the ground. The king sighed.

All that death and what did it accomplish? Nothing I tell you. The next season the rain fell, and the Lake was filled to the brim, and we had not one drop of the human’s water to show for all our dead. Nor they a drop of ours to show for theirs.

True words. But we cannot see into the future my friend. What if this lasts many seasons, what then? Drungar stood and started pacing, as he normally did when he was thinking.

Come my friend, Drungar you will wear thin my favorite woven rug, and I do so like its vibrant colours. The king stopped his pacing and looked down. He then lifted back his head and gave a mighty, throat roaring, heart-felt laugh.

Oh, I needed that, he said while wiping tears from his eyes.

As always, you talk sense Cemonsus. Also, I will spare your rug from my pacing. With that he walked back over and retook his seat.

So what does my friend suggest? He leaned forward and started to stroke his own beard, to relax himself.

I might be old, and some; I fear, say wise, but there’s one thing I’m not and that is king. He placed his hand on Drungar’s knee. Whereas you, my friend, are. He then removed his hand and placed it on the wooden table and pushed his old withered body up onto his feet. Then slowly, placing one foot in front of the other, he made his way across the stone floor. Once on the other side of the room, he removed a small wiggling ground grub from a bowl, knocked the soil from it, and proceeded to chew on it.

So what is your council, Cemonsus?

It is just that. You are king my Lord, if you wish me to make all the decisions, then what would there be left for you to do? he stated, still chewing the grub with his few remaining teeth.

What does the Council of Five say on the matter? Or your two sons, Duronton or Burfus, what are their views?

Many. Many indeed, and all apposing the other. He carried on stroking his beard.

What a day Cemonsus. What a day, and for that matter, what a long night.

Do not threat and frown my friend, because you don’t even know what Shran wants? They might not have even noticed the water in their lake is lowering. You know these humans are always too busy fighting among themselves to notice such things? He retook his seat, picking a small lump of food out from between his sparse teeth.

True, I may just be overcautious. The king stood and once again started to pace.

Do not worry over something you have no control over. Something that has not yet happened. There is enough to worry about each day without adding more to it. He picked up his carved brush. This time holding it properly, and started to slowly brush his long white beard.

So true. As always, you’re a great help, and friend. I swear you should be sat on the throne, Cemonsus. He gave a light laugh.

Me? The old dwarf looked slightly offended. Never! I would have died of stress many long years ago. Together they laughed long and hard.

Then a messenger came to inform the King that Shran and his envoy of men had arrived, to seek the king’s ear.

With pleasantries and a promise of a visit in a few days, Drungar took this leave of Cemonsus presence. He left the old dwarf struggling to remove a stubborn knot from his long white beard. Complaining under his breath that, The servant was never around when you needed him?

Chapter Three

CHANGING TIMES

Drungar was being rushed along by his courtesans. As he walked they were attempting to change his tunic.

It was true what Cemonsus had said, last nights sleep didn’t take him. He was worried, and this made sleep impossible for him. Tens of thousands of lives lay in his hands, all looking to him for guidance and to make the right choices for all.

The hallways, which were richly decorated with lavish wall hangings depicting the life and legends of his people, did nothing to change his sullen mood.

He reached his Readying Chamber, which was just before the Great Hall, where he welcomed important dignitaries. The hall was larger than any other room in the vast city, so also were the tunnels leading to it. This was because humans – being almost twice as tall as dwarves – came here to seek an audience with the head of the dwarves five clans – Drungar.

He was always nervous before entering the huge chamber, because of its immense size. He, like all his kind, preferred the comfort and closeness of the walls around him. Like being inside the mountain, the city itself was hued from.

But needs be, he whispered to himself.

Sorry Milord. You spoke? A dwarf asked, stopping halfway through what he was doing, thinking the king was addressing him personally.

Nothing Nathinum. I was just thinking out loud; that’s all.

Yes Milord. Nathinum said, as he bowed and moved away backwards.

To human royalty knowing the name of a mere courtesan would have been unheard of, not to mention actually speaking to the king himself. But the dwarven nation was different; they were more of a big family – everyone knew everyone else by name. The king was more of a fatherly head figure to all his people.

But even so, they still treated him with great respect, and a lot of bowing and scraping was involved in this, out of respect for all the things he continually did for all his people. But this is the way it has been since Semansos the First his great, great, great grandfather, passed down through the passage of time. But not by the written word, but rather by word of mouth.

The dwarves do not have much in the way of written history, because everything was kept inside their heads, passed down from generation to generation. From all their family trees, plus all their extended family; cousins, aunts, uncles as well as who married who, making another long list of in-laws, and families once removed. Most could, in one way or another, trace their family line back to the king himself.

Also, there wasn’t a dwarf alive that couldn’t tell you how much money they had made in their entire life; so far, down to the exact gold coin. Some of the older dwarves could sit for days talking on that very subject – some do, frequently.

Also dwarves have impressive memories when it comes to remembering songs of famous heroic adventures, verses that were long and complicated in nature – stories of any kind, or length. The most famous of all; the legend of Thor and his brother