Royal Hospital, Tu Zenita Duskal
“It has been many hours since he has wakened, Isfri." a voice whispered in the distance, the wind carrying his words to his unconscious king. "How much longer can we expect him to sleep? There are enemies in the tunnels, red-cloaked soldiers heading towards our city,”
“He has been wounded severely, Alfrin.” came the reply of a woman some distance further away, the serene power of her voice making her the authority on the current matter, “The damage to his physical body was severe for even the stoutest of our kind, and his mind is compensating for the wound by allowing his thoughts to process it subconsciously. He has a great strength within him - not many could have made the return journey with a wound such as his without succumbing long ago. He will awaken when his mind deems it time. Until then, we will remain vigilant over him.”
“As you say, my lady,” came the rough, grumbling affirmation from the man who had spoken earlier, and with a swish of cloth and swift footfalls the two left the room.
Silence enveloped the unconscious dwarf king in a shroud of ethereal peace, and his mind drifted into the infinite blackness that awaited him.
[I]Jornak awoke to a gentle breeze trailing across him; soft rhythmic motions that seemed to dance upon his skin. A few moments later the spell of tranquility was broken, and he jerked to his feet to find himself in the sepulchral hall of kings. Last time he was here he had sealed king Vagrund's casket himself, Jornak remembered, before his men had collapsed the entrance to stop the greyskins from desecrating the tombs. The question of how he had gotten inside did not seem consequential to his dreaming mind.
He turned to his left to see a vaguely humanoid swirl of golden mist standing next to him, its indistinct head bowed towards the patch of cold stone where he had been lying. With a soft giggle it vanished into thin air, and left a sense of melancholy within Jornak's heart.
As his emerald eyes scanned his surroundings, his jaw opened slightly in an expression of surprise and wonder. The weathering of time had been stripped away from the hall, leaving towering columns of the brightest abalone to shine against spun gold drapery, which rippled gently in the air pulled through the hall by cunning dwarf ventilation systems. At an equal distance between the columns and drapes stood statues of dwarf kings, fashioned from the purest of marble. Noble and silent, their eyes seemed to fall upon Jornak as he began walking through the infinite hall.
It was a few hundred feet down the hall that he was paralysed by what he had found. It was a statue of his exact likeness, with emeralds for eyes and a crown of ruby and diamond. But there was the inscription beneath the statue, and it was that inscription which struck him silent.
Jornak Iron-Beard
Hero of Dun Moriga, Champion of Vulcan, Emperor of the East, Kin-Slayer
Here lies the last king of Dun Moriga.
“It’s a haunting sight isn’t?” a familiar voice reached his ears. Jornak almost started - he hadn't even felt the presence behind him. As he turned, he came face-to-face with Davekrir, his old lover and warrior-partner. Only this wasn’t the Davekrir who once lived and fought alongside him; this dwarf shimmered with an aura of soothing fire, and his hair was as black as the night itself. His eyes seemed able to gaze into Jornak's very soul, and the dwarf king found himself falling to his knees at the sight of those unyielding sapphire eyes.
“How…how are you here?” he managed to say, once his tongue was his own once more. He remembered his last vision of Davekrir; in Ech Zilidar, just before he found himself succumbing to his wounds. He could not bring himself to meet the eyes of his former lover, and instead focused them upon the floor, trying to occupy himself by examining every detail of the god-like craftsmanship.
“I have come because you called for me. The gods are not blind to your actions Jornak, and they have deigned to give you a glimpse of the future you are creating.”
The ghostly spirit paused as it directed Jornak’s attention towards his statue once again.
“You are leading our people down the path of annihilation, and it is not just the Dun Morigan people that will fall. You are now ruler of Afragia as well, and they look to you for guidance. They have lived for thousands of years under the safety net of Emor, but you changed that when you decided to seek out sovereignty for the eastern nations. They have placed their hope in you, and you are leading them to death.”
Jornak remained in silence, letting the words of his former comrade soak in and flinching at every painful truth that resounded within each syllable. He knew that his actions for his people were not fueled by the desire to consolidate the power of the East, and to bring about a new era of prosperity and promise. They were fueled by the fires of hatred; hate because of the fall of his city, because of the exodus from his homeland, and because of the lack of Emor’s presence at the fall of Dun Moriga.
“You are not a terrible person Jornak; I know this from my own experience with you. You want what is best for your country and your people, and that is admirable in itself, but you are going about it the wrong way – deep down you know this to be true. Offering the mafia cartel immunity to the law is the surest path to destruction; you need to end that pact before it really begins. You will make an enemy, but you will be all the better for it without their aid. The dwarf I knew would never make deals with the cartel; he was far too noble and wise for such a thing. End it."
Jornak bowed his head.
"You are expected to be wise and have the interests of the people at heart, not your personal desire for vengeance. The fall of Dun Moriga was destined long before our people inhabited it, even before the Nerubians made their homes in the mountains. You could not have prevented the fall, even if you were to wield the power of the gods themselves."
Jornak opened his mouth to protest.
"Relinquish your hold on the hatred that burns in your heart, my love. The staying of your axe against the Namorian general was the first step towards letting the hatred go; you felt the approval of the gods in your heart when you performed this feat. Continue on this path, and you will forge a brighter future for all of the East.”
The younger dwarf finished his speech and extended a gentle hand to the chin of the dwarf king, coaxing his emerald eyes to rise and meet his own, soft with the warmth of love.
In a matter of moments the world tilted, and Jornak's mind was enveloped in the infinite blackness once again.
When Jornak awoke, he found himself in a bed of silk and cloth, the warm sandy air of Afragia gliding roughly across his skin in place of the ethereal breeze he had felt in the Hall of Kings. He made to rise, but stumbled as his world shook and his vision blurred with spikes of black. An aching pain was growing in his forehead. He reached up to his temple and felt the soft mush of an Afragian poultice, covering his wound to prevent infection. A thick white bandage was wrapped around his head two times over, tied tight and secure.
Gathering his bearings, he once again began to stand, and this time he succeeded in walking very slowly towards the exit, only to be met by the rustling of cloth and running footfalls as a dwarf woman rushed up to Jornak and steadied him.
“Your majesty, you should not be moving about. The surgeons removed the blood clot from your brain but you still need to rest.”
Concern and disapproval were etched in every word that left her wizened lips, as plain as if they were runes written in stone. Her golden attire and sharp eyes lent credence to the fact that she was a healer within the royal hospital - he was back in Tu Zenita Duskal. Clearly, this doctor was the only one available at the time, which was no surprise as there were many injuries had been afforded to the Afragian army at the river Hapi battle.
Jornak allowed the woman to coax him back a few steps, before he stiffened and began to speak, “I am fine, woman. Do not treat me as if I were a child. I know well my own strength and limits.”
Even as he said it, he caught another dizziness spell and had to lean heavily on the woman for a few moments until it faded.
“Clearly.” was all the woman afforded him, as her features took on a fully disapproving mantle. But, she knew all too well the stubborn nature of her king, and knew that she would be fighting a losing battle if she were to try and make him do something that he did not want to do – tales of people who had tried surrounded his name as thickly as oil in water.
So, they remained standing still for what seemed like several minutes, before Jornak carefully pushed the woman away from him and stood on his own two feet, using his own strength. As he did so, he felt the dizziness return, but it was not as overwhelming. He felt a surge of strength enter his limbs and he took a shaky step forward, and soon after another step. After several repetitions, like a toddler taking its first steps, he found that he was able to walk fairly normally again.
“See there, woman?” he called to her as he neared the door, his emerald eyes turning to find the doctor once again. She gave him a disapproving glare, to which he responded with only a crooked smile and a soft bow before leaving the hospital.
Two human nurses, dark-skinned Afragians, stopped in their tracks to stare as the door shut behind him. He caught their soft, awestruck mutterings about the stubbornness of Dun Morigans and their inhuman resilience to wounds. He left the hospital with a wide smirk gracing his lips, sunlight reflecting off whitened teeth that had not seen the sun in many days.
It was certainly a good day to say the least. And, hallucination or no, he had not forgotten the words of Davekrir in the Hall of Kings. The words were still echoed in his mind as if his fallen lover was still speaking to him.
Be a wise king. Be the king I know you to be. The words seemed to echo through his thoughts, prominent and repetitive. It was with this in mind that he would begin his next task -the dissolution of Freayfir's mafia cartel, and the ending of their contract.
This first step was likely going to be the hardest part of correcting his mistakes, Jornak reflected. In the meantime, he had some thoughts in mind for the Nerubian mountain-dwellers that still lived within the tunnels of Dun Moriga.
He needed to make contact with them, and begin to make peace between the dwarf people and theirs. It would not be easy, but he believed it to be in the best interest of his people, both Dun Morigan and Afragian alike. With this in mind, he found his way to the palace and to the nearest messenger hawk – the birds that only the Afragians had the skill to train. To the bird's leg he attached a hand-written letter, inviting Ech Zilidar's current leadership to Tu Zenita Duskal for a discussion of future relations. Not without a great deal of effort, he included the name of the Namorian praetor Graccus in his invitation to the meeting.
If there was to be peace for his people, he would need to begin by mending the bridges that he had broken, and if possible placate the Namorian presence that remained in the East - if only until he had enough support to solidify his claim to the new empire. Things would not return to the way they had been, with Afragia and Dun Moriga as simple vassal states to the imperium. He would not fully give in to the demands of Emor, but if met with certain amiable conditions, he might be able to accept and thus begin to build a new civilisation from the ashes of an old one.
Written by Sunstrider and polished by Azazeal849. A heap of thanks to him for helping me to get this flowing nicely!
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