Quespin

The Great War of Averrin

Quespin

J. C. Anderson

***~~~***

Quespin ~ Center One Publishing

Kingsley, Michigan ~ All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition ~ Copyright 2014

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To my family, my spice

and to anyone who clings to fantasy for life.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title

Dedication

Prologue

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV

XXVI

XXVII

XXVIII

XXIX

Epilogue

Author

Gallery

Prologue

Father's childhood? Oh, I have no way of knowing that, Madon. You know him as well as I do.

No, he never talks about his life before Mitriana. And when he talks about their time together, he always speaks as though they were crowned in some celestial glow.

Yes, I would imagine that romantics may tell you that his life only started with her; It would be calming to look upon Father as an unblemished creature, but reality is not often so simple as all that.

Was he born into greatness? The Anvil produces almost no record of his family... I suppose I wonder sometimes if they knew from birth what he would become.

Look, we may never know the truth behind his origins, but I do know this:

No matter what the world says now, Father was a great man… and I will love him, until the day that I die.

Lyrianna Mau’vek, Evirgart’e du Trog’diatsk.

The Year 284, Second True Empire

The stormy winds howled around the snow-capped peaks. The treacherous mountain pass lay buried in feet of the thick white powder that continued to harass the landscape. If any army could traverse this icy storm, they would not find war here. For nothing but the top of the Great Arch leading into the mountain lay uncovered by snow. And deep below the ground the Dwarves and their city lay safely removed from the surface world, and none wished to ruin the temporary peace that nature had blessed them with.

Greatbeard Erich, are you certain your information is true?

Erich stared attentively beyond where Godfrey stood, deep into the dimly lit tunnel that lay before them. He stroked his heavy beard, and tucked it beneath his leather. There had been no time to braid it, and with what was coming, any amount of encumbrance could prove fatal.

The orange flames of torches flickered as the air flow altered when two more armored dwarves slid in through the passageway entrance. Their outfit, as well as their armor, was shoddy and worn; they were most definitely not military raised.

They joined a small contingent of similarly clothed dwarves who stood in file against the muddy tunnel wall. The tunnel was new, no stone and no supports. Compared to the cavernous glory of the city above them, this place was a dank, rancid hole.

Realizing his companion's distraction, Godfrey turned to face the militia, allowing Erich an opportunity to think.

Good. That's the last of you. Godfrey nodded solemnly to the new arrivals. As you have joined us today, it is clear that you believe Greatbeard Erich's information The troupe of dwarves stood stalwart as Godfrey continued:

Erich has given substantial proof that the Seers are corrupting and manipulating the royal family and by doing so, they are effectively controlling all aspects of the Anvil. These acts of clear treason marks each of them a traitor to our people, and the Empire. Godfrey took a deep breath, considering his next words carefully.

We have also learned that the Mage's Tower appears to be under the control of the Grand Seer himself. A ripple of murmurs washed through the small group, and Godfrey raised his hand to silence them. "We understand that you are wary – but we are on the brink of losing this city to these traitors. If they rule – their growing vengeance will be far more excruciating to bear than returning to the earth today.

The dwarven militia quieted as Godfrey continued – his words striking a definite chord. It is not often that we are forced to turn a blade against our brethren, and we will provide them ample opportunity to lay down their arms. However, we all must be prepared for the eventuality of shedding dwarven blood.

Godfrey paused and allowed his words to settle. The unity of the dwarven race was known throughout all Averrin as an unalterable fact. The proposition of causing the first civil war in the history of their race was not something that sat well with even the most progressive amongst them.

Godfrey. Erich's words echoed through the caverns. We need to move. Now. Every second of time gives the Seers the advantage. Godfrey saluted the small force, and turned to face down the tunnel.

We head for the throne room.

Erich took off at a brisk pace, and the dwarves fell in line behind him. The tunnel was damp, and while the small group wore soft wrappings to mask the noise, their every footpad echoed off into the dark passage.

The dwarves reached the end of the tunnel with little delay, and Erich drew his mace. Seamlessly, the rest of the squadron withdrew their weapons and stood at the ready. Erich leaned forward against the wall in front of them and it pivoted open, grinding against the stone floor beneath it.

The harsh noise reverberated through the large room: a clear end to the secrets and silence that preceded it. Leaving no time for a reaction, the Greatbeard and Godfrey rushed out from the corridor and into the royal chambers.

What a pleasant surprise. The silky voice wafted down from the head of the throne room. Erich raised his weapon as he turned to face the speaker.

King Kreughammer sat silently upon his crowned seat, head leaned upon a cushion. He stared glassy-eyed, without presence, beyond the forces that now flooded from a hidden passage beside his royal chambers. Despite the clear intrusion into his palace, the King remained seemingly blind to the scenario unfolding before him. A dwarf shrouded in deep purple robes stood beside the ornate stone throne.

The Seer spoke crisply as Erich and Godfrey held their weapons at the ready. Neither trusted the robed figure, fueled by years of hatred and distrust toward the Order of the Shrouded Eye. The militia stirred at his words, however. The Grand Seer was notorious for masking his voice in a dry monotone. The fervor in his voice relayed complete confidence that none of them would be leaving alive.

Erich was unshaken, raising a hand to silence his troops.

Greatbeard Erich of the Clan Tro'oggitsch. Years ago you defied the Seers with your ignorance, and denied to lend them your visions. Yet, your transgressions were overlooked, and for your loyalty, bravery, and competence you were blessed with the venerated title you now wield. You have been charged to protect this throne from all harm! Why, with promises of eternal glory for this service, do you now come before the throne with high treason woven in your beard and blade?

It is you who have betrayed your people, your clan, and your king, Seer! Erich's fiery glare may well have pierced any normal dwarf's resolve, but this twisted advisor seemed unmoved by his aggression.

A raspy chuckle poured from the Seer’s hood. "Oh, I doubt that anyone would believe such a fanciful tale, Greatbeard. You have stolen into the Royal Keep in the dead of night, with your cadre of faithful, albeit mindless drones, to exterminate a member of the High Council. I exist even now as a respected advisor to this throne, and savior to our people. The people of the Anvil will not laud you as the hero you delude yourself to be. I suggest you exit now, before the weight of your decision has truly fallen upon your head.

Each dwarf present knew the offer was a formality. Even if the Seer did allow them to leave, they would be found and locked out of the public eye without trial. And Yali couldn’t expect them to take him up on it.

Erich's grip further tightened around his axe, and he raised it to his side. The seer's robes billowed slightly, and in the faint light beneath his cowl there was a visible grin. Have it your way, child. This will end the same as before.

At this sign of aggression, the small militia charged past the Greatbeard toward the throne, and the seer jumped down from the dais to meet them. They were haphazard, not long trained in the art of combat, and they struck wildly at the Grand Seer. His movements were swift, precise, and deadly. Pinpoint lightning arced from his fingertips and he lashed out at the intruders with terrible fury.

Before Erich and Godfrey could reach the malcontent, their allies lay slain on the throne room floor, their wounds cauterized by the heat from their enemy's assault. Erich's eyes lit with rage as he struck at the robed dwarf. Godfrey dove and tumbled to flank the dwarf, whose first movement was a step back. The Seer hesitated briefly, giving his assailants the opening they were waiting for.

Erich struck first, bringing his mace swiftly against his enemy, who effortlessly repelled the blow with a small shield of energy. The seer leapt forward, using the suspended shield to propel himself from his precarious situation. Idiots. Both of you. The seer's hands began to spark with energy as he prepared to unleash another volley of lightning.

Erich's vision blurred as the lighting raced toward him, but in an instant he saw Godfrey's daggers planted firmly deep into both of the seer's palms.

The violent release of lightning as the robed dwarf screamed out engulfed both his friend and the Seer in a blinding white flash.

Once Erich's eyes returned to focus, he saw neither Godfrey nor the seer. A noise from the entrance hall pulled his attention, and he turned to see the throne room open. His eyes were met with the image of many blue-robed figures as they advanced upon him. Mages. Fire and lightning danced at their fingertips as they engulfed his vision.

Erich woke with a start, his eyes quickly adjusting to his surroundings. He stared up at the Great Arch that had protected his city for countless generations as he fought the terror that gripped his soul. Another dream? This would not bode well for his family. Why would the Greatfather continue to visit this curse upon him?

Lieutenant Erich! Godfrey's voice echoed down the empty street as he strolled up to the gates. Erich, eyes bleary, did his best to shake his unease, then turned and greeted his friend with a smile and a hug.

Godfrey! What brings you out of the barracks?

You, Erich. As your friend, I'm requesting that you take a rest. The city is buried under miles of snow. We've been forcibly removed from this war by the Greatfather himself. No enemy can possibly breach our home. And I can't have you keeping watch for days on end, when you've a family to tend to. By the stone, you've a child on the way! His voice was ordered and calm, but his piercing green eyes analyzed Erich with genuine concern.

Erich frowned, his typical countenance of late, and responded gruffly. We have many enemies, Godfrey. Are you saying there is no chance of an invasion? You have so much faith in the ward? That Archmage died casting his spells. Can we be sure it even worked? Or that we should be careless enough to not be on guard?

Godfrey stood to his full four feet, flaring out his chest and speaking in a dominant tone. Lieutenant Erich, as your commanding officer I relieve you of your post. You have been approved for leave. I'll file the paperwork in the morning.

Godfrey. If you weren't my friend. Erich raised his mace threateningly. Godfrey relaxed his stance and smiled at him unflinchingly.

Sometimes I wonder if my life would be more peaceful if you were my enemy, Erich. Go home. I'll not have you treating my sister that poorly. If I see you again out here, I swear to the Greatfather, I will call the whole cavern down upon your head.

With minimal grumbling, Erich grabbed his satchel, and began to walk back towards the shining lights of his underground home. All the while, his thoughts were plagued by his vision.

I

The birth of Father Quespin is almost entirely absent from the annuls of history. The seclusion of the Anvil immediately following the climax of the Samax War caused an irreparable information gap in the history of the dwarves. What is speculated now is that the newborn caught the attention of the Seers of the Shrouded Eye, but that his father's growing prejudice kept them at bay.

-Notable Figures of the Great War, Vol. I

Quespin pulled his legs in tight to his chest and squeezed up against the back wall of the cupboard. The young dwarf pulled his bushy amber hair from the crack before closing the door behind him. He quieted his breathing as much as he could and listened intently to the sounds outside. He jumped slightly as a violent crashing noise came from across the room, and was frozen in place as the cupboard door opened. A hand darted in and grabbed him by his ear, pulling him out onto the floor.

Q, you're going to school. That's final. His mother swooped down and, with precision, swatted him on the bum. Quespin jumped up and rubbed his backside for a moment looking hurt, but the stern look from his mother made him sigh and run to grab his bag from his room. He averted his eyes and tried to move as quickly as possible. As he ran into the hall toward his room he saw his brothers waiting patiently.

You should know better than to hide from mom, baldface. His elder brother clicked his tongue chidingly. Baldface had become a particularly prominent word in Alkor's vocabulary ever since his beard had reached the point of braiding.

Alkor enjoyed lording his status symbol over his brothers, and it had certainly helped his reputation at the Academy. He stood with his hand firmly on their younger brother's shoulder. Qafsiel, a stocky dwarf of twelve, squirmed under the oppressive presence of Alkor.

As Quespin passed, he gave a weak smile of encouragement to his younger sibling. Fighting with Alkor never went well for any of them, as he outclassed them in size and strength, as well as arrogance. He stood at nearly five feet, and when he was right he towered even further over you. And he was always right. Quespin skirted past him with ease, knowing that Alkor would give a physical reprimand if he strayed too close.

Turning into his room he was met by Marelle. His sister smiled automatically at seeing him, but with a moment of thought, her expression turned to one of reproach. Q had been skipping classes more frequently of late, and he knew that Mary did not approve in the least. She handed him his books and papers, which she had carefully collected for him. Likely, she had read them all over both in preparation of her lessons, and for her own enjoyment.

She may have been a very quiet child, but Q suspected she could run intellectual circles around even Alkor.

Marelle exited his room and took a pointed moment to give her twin brother Qafsiel a more volatile glare. She then continued into the kitchen, where she began collecting the items that had followed Quespin out of the cupboard.

Q rarely felt guilty for missing class, but Marelle certainly evoked that feeling within him better than anyone else. Except perhaps his mother.

The younger boys walked begrudgingly out the door, followed by Alkor. They began the trek toward the Academy and as expected, Lord Alkor immediately began to lecture his younger siblings. He had been insufferable like this for years, but ever since Alkor’s seventeenth birthday, the speeches had become a daily occurrence.

You two should be more proud that we are allowed into the Academy. It is because of father's many years of service to the Empire that we are allowed to partake in learning from some of the finest minds that the Anvil has ever cultivated.

Quespin did his best to make faces sidelong at Qafsiel while their older brother spoke. Qafsiel took a more direct route in an attempt to infuriate their foe.

"But Alkor, my professor is actually a refugee from when we locked everyone in. So, he really isn't a good example of what the anvil cultivates." Qafsiel beamed proudly at his statement and chuckled along with Quespin. Their amusement was cut short as Alkor smacked them both upside their heads and continued unhindered.

While some – surprisingly exceptional – refugees may have passed the Academy's test to instruct petulant youth like you and Quespin, they are not the symbol of the Academy. They may have potential, but ultimately it is the dwarves who will lead the lesser creatures toward true enlightenment. Alkor glowered at his brothers.

Quespin rarely spoke up, but he knew plenty of refugees from the Liberated Sector that could easy put Alkor in his place. He felt they deserved some amount of defense.

"Then shouldn't they come to school with us so they can be enlightened?" He stressed the word sarcastically.

Alkor shot an angry look at Q. Absolutely not. They have schools of their own, brother. There are levels of knowledge that you and I and Qafsiel require as dwarves that are not allowed in the hands of the more primitive races. We are true children of the Greatfather, and should be treated as such.

Alkor's lecture continued for the entire walk to the Academy, droning on about rights and respectability in the Dwarven Empire. As Quespin saw the gates of the Academy approach, he slowed, and allowed Alkor to move ahead.

At the gates, three robed figures waited for their elder brother. That had been happening more often of late, but Quespin had done his best to ignore it. He could only imagine what their father would do if he knew Alkor was meeting with Seers. Avoidance seemed the best policy. There was no sense in stirring up more conflict in his family.

Alkor continued to talk, so engrossed in his own words that he failed to notice them lagging behind. Well, I'm off to class. Be good in school, the both of you, and remember what I've told you.

Alkor neared the gates, and joined the small group of Seers. They walked through the open gates together, and Q had a brief moment of concern for his brother. He might be a complete gitwerc, but he was family.

His thoughts quickly turned as the chapel bells began to ring. On cue, Qafsiel and Quespin glanced at each other, grinned, and darted down a small alleyway leading away from the Academy grounds.

They ran the entire length back through the rows of barracks and military halls, and stopped in a nearby alleyway that provided them with a clear view of their house. They waited for mere minutes, and then watched their mother lock the door behind her, grab their sister's hand, and begin to walk off toward the market.

They would be gone for most of the day as Marelle had lessons with the women at the chapel. Their mother would likely spend that time at the Sarter's guildhouse, so they were unlikely to be in if Academy officials came knocking for him and his brother. Even if they did get caught, from what the Doctor had been telling them, today was not a day to be in school.

Once their mother and sister were out of sight the boys bolted for the door and dropped their bags into an empty barrel normally used for firewood, continuing westward at a steady pace. They took a path that led through the Heights, where the richest merchants challenged each other daily to build a home to reach the cavern ceiling. No one in this district paid any attention to children running around; it was far beneath their importance to notice.

Separating their destination and the Heights was the Market, which they skirted around, and the Spayten District. No one was very active in the Spayten early in the morning. Most entertainment occurred after the chapel rang the evening bells.

Quespin knew from his texts that the Anvil did everything in its power to keep time with the surface world, but that goal often proved difficult. Q and his brother had been sealed in their entire life, so there was little basis for comparison in his mind.

A human girl stood on the edge of a sea of makeshift houses near the western part of the town. Her clothes were of good quality; the Sarters had recently begun a service project that involved donating clothing to the refugees. Q assumed that Mitriana's father had requisitioned the clothes for her; the average merchant was still reluctant to sell dwarven goods to non-natives. She yelled at their approach. You're late today!

Mitty’s auburn hair was haphazardly tangled up with a yellow ribbon. Q smiled as he neared. She had dirt on her fine clothes, and in her hair. She’d likely been running around the lower tunnels, despite her father’s concerns. In front of her father, she stood more than a foot taller than Q, but she very rarely stood straight when they were out playing. And while she was always able to talk her way out of trouble, anyone looking into her mischievous green eyes could easily reveal her true nature.

Quespin smiled up at Mitriana broadly as they reached each other and gave her a small hug. Dr. Scarra already left for the fields. He told me to yell at both of you for missing this. She grinned devilishly, Instead, I'm going to say that the last one there has to test out his new invention!

Mitriana laughed and finished tying her auburn hair out of her face, then helped Qafsiel onto her back. Good luck, Q, and she darted into one of the many tunnels that led into the fields.

Quespin grinned as he watched her disappear into a cave, confident that he would beat her to