Every surface glitters and sparkles in the soft shroom light, casting shimmering patterns of light and deep shadows that seem to dance in time with the ebb and flow of the stones. It helps the panic and anger retreat once more. I let out a sigh and carefully crouch down in the narrow walkway so that a termination of citrine does not impale me.
When the other sour emotions fade completely, guilt remains. What have I gotten my people into?
Liana makes a frustrated noise and then whispers softly. The walls and ceiling echo and amplify every breath. The Fuegorra crystal lights up like a raging fire, and the wise woman’s hands shake, like she's overcome with the spirit of prophecy. Then, as fast as it started, the magic breaks.
“What if I—” I start when an ear-splitting screech fills the space around me as the crystals sing dissonance.
“Out. You are heavy, like a stone. I cannot work with you looking over my shoulder. Go find Ulla. Get her to fix your ugly face. I will bring the crystal to you when I’ve finished.”
I grit my teeth and growl, "I am your king. You don't get to speak to me that way."
She looks up and defiantly meets my gaze. "And you do not get to rush the magic."
I stare at her momentarily, feeling the tension in my body start to build to dangerous levels, then turn and half walk, half climb out of the burrow.
It isn’t right for me to take out my anger on her. She did not kill the prince’s guards. I did. The faces of the giants, shredded by my sword and strewn across the battlefield, return to my mind. I smell the stench of their bowels. It’s a smell that I can never really forget—so different from the pleasant, sulphuric smell of the under mountain.
A lonely old butcher sitting atop a crumbling throne. That is all I am. Once away from the stones, I stop at the royal caves. There are dozens of warm springs inside, and I reach down to scoop up water and splash my face, breathing deeply as I turn to take in the majestic sight of the ancient palace.
The imposing walls of the castle are dimming, and the crystals used to connect to the Ardorflame no longer shine with a clarity akin to glass. It is beautiful, a reminder of the days of old—back when we were scholars, warriors, and still called ourselves trolls—but it is a shadow of its grandeur. We once thrived in the cities of gold, with kings and queens regarded as exalted gods to watch over their people. Now, we merely survive.
My hands shake, but not for the reasons that they should. I ought to feel bad about senseless death, but I do not regret it. Perhaps that means some piece of my soul is broken.
Two hunters, Dyrn and Tirin, are waiting at the entrance to the back of the palace, spears in hand and dressed in full Enduar armor. "My king," Dyrn says before bowing.
Tirin is young, and when Dyrn bows, he follows, careful to be a good hunter despite coming from a long line of stone benders.
I nod to both of them. “Have the others been brought back up to their homes?”
Tirin glances to the other side of the section, where the giants had stayed, and my eyes follow. An image of my bloody mate flashes before my eyes, causing my fists to tighten. Something beneath my skin stirs, something not entirely my own.
Neither Dyrn nor Tirin had been in the fight, but I’m sure they have already heard the details. Tirin is wide-eyed, but Dyrn seems unbothered.
“No. We were waiting for your word, sire,” Dyrn says, keeping his chin low as he speaks, not to making eye contact with me.
I let out a long breath. “How many humans are there?”
“Fifteen in total. The giants only took one when they made their exit,” Tirin supplies.
Mikal. My mate’s brother. “Are any of them sick?”
“Most of them have injuries, all of them are malnourished. But, no, they do not appear to be carrying any sicknesses,” Dyrn reports.
“Very good. Have they been fed?” I ask. Dyrn shakes his head, and I am irritated. “Why not?”
Dyrn shifts his weight. “The bear killed for the feast was never cooked. We needed Ulla’s seasonings, and we were unsure if we should risk going to the lower level without reason. Then the screaming…”
I nod slowly and reign in my feelings. “That was wise. Come, friends. We will take the herbs down to the lower cavern so Ulla can give the sick something to help them be moved in peace.”There is much more to do. If war is truly coming, I should send the head hunter, Lothar, to the elves, and pray they don’t kill him before he has a chance to walk through their gates.
Dyrn nods. “Of course.”
Gods only know where Vann is. I will find him later. Now, I must walk, or I will claw my own skin off. Dyrn follows me into the royal enclave and picks up two crates. Tirin trots behind us, still lanky and fresh. He eagerly carries three crates.
After I take two from the pile, we slip into a well-concealed section that houses a steam-powered sidewalk leading deeper into the mountain. Such contraptions once spanned much of the city, but most were destroyed in the quakes after my father’s eruption. Sweat slides down my back as the temperature increases.
"King Teo," Tirin starts, and I glance back at him.
"Hmm?" I grunt.