Chapter 21
Jamison Rayheart
I am on a wild goose chase, Jamison Rayheart thought as he stumbled his way up the loose debris at the base of Mt. Pizenchaffe. No one has laid eyes upon a Dainty for five hundred years and Sebastian expects me to just waltz up the mountain and do what no other has managed to do for centuries. He must think that I will just walk right up to a big hole in the ground, climb down, and find. . . the Dainties.
At his feet, he saw an open shaft. He eased over to the edge and looked inside. Total darkness.
"Hello? Anyone there?"
The echo of his voice was the only reply.
Jamison lay on his stomach. He picked up a small stone and dropped it into the shaft. Not too deep, he thought as the sound of the rock smacking the bottom echoed back to him.
Jamison Rayheart, a messenger and member of Galdarath's Royal Army, took a deep breath and jumped into the lightless shaft. It was at least a twenty foot drop, but Jamison was a small man, and small men land much easier than large ones. He pulled a torch from his back and struck his flint together several times before it lit. He looked around and found only one way to proceed.
After what seemed like hours, he came into a large open area. He stood in awe staring at the magnificent Kingdom of Pizenchaffe, but his sightseeing came to an end when twelve, short, but large Dainties, surrounded him.
"They are real," Jamison said in a low tone.
"What is your business here, surface walker?" Zulp asked.
"How did you find your way down here?" Olaf asked.
Jamison took a step forward and found himself face to face with the edge of an axe.
"That is far enough," Olaf said.
"Drop your weapons!" Zulp demanded.
"Take it easy. Don't do anything hasty," Jamison said as he laid his maces on the ground. "I do not wish to cause trouble. I am here to bring an important message from the King of Galdarath."
"How did you find your way down here? Answer me!" Olaf repeated.
"I walked up the foot of the mountain, and I found an opening in the ground. I just assumed this was the entrance to the kingdom," Jamison answered.
"You are a tiny one for a Human. Are you not?" Zulp asked.
Jamison's face grew rigid. "I am on the small side for a Human, yes," Jamison responded.
"Easy there, big fella," Olaf said. "Calm down."
"Look at that cheap black armor," Zulp said. "What kind of weaponry do you plan on defending off with that? Sticks?"
"I implore you to find out," Jamison said, as he snatched up his maces from the ground. He spun left and right, anticipating an attack, but none came.
"Calm down already," Olaf said once more.
"I am here to speak with the king, not his cup bearers. If either of you make one more derogatory comment, I fear this meeting will not be pleasant," Jamison barked.
"What do you plan on doing against all of us, surface walker?" Zulp asked.
"I may not defeat the lot of you, but I can guarantee that I will spill the small brains from you and your friends' oversized heads," Jamison said, motioning to Zulp and Olaf.
Olaf and Zulp whispered back and forth. After a minute of deliberating, they both nodded their heads in agreement.
"Your weapons stay here. Follow us, and we will take you to King Stout. And no funny business or you will wish you would have stayed on the surface," Zulp informed him.
"Understood," Jamison said.
Zulp and Olaf led Jamison Rayheart through the city of Pizenchaffe. The tiny Dainties of the kingdom hurried along carrying out the duties of their day to day lives, forging weapons and armor mostly.
Jamison had never seen such merriment in his entire life as the small race of underground dwellers sped to and fro. Pizenchaffe was a lively kingdom, full of excitement. He could hear the hearty songs coming from the local pub, The Broken Lamien.
"Fifty four bottles of beer on the wall, fifty four bottles of beer. Take one down and pass it around, fifty three bottles of beer on the wall. Fifty three bottles of beer on the wall. . ."
Such a catchy song. I have never heard that tune before. It must be one of their own.
Passing by the local blacksmith, Jamison could not help but to notice the stacks upon stacks of bronze colored weapons and armor piled up all around the forge. They must be preparing for war. Good.
They arrived at the palace and walked up a long set of steps until they came upon two massive pizenore doors.
"Mind your manners once you are inside," Olaf commanded.
"Certainly," Jamison replied, warmly.
They pushed the doors aside and led him into the throne room. The acting King of Pizenchaffe, Golgar Stout, sat upon the throne. He wore an immaculate suit of pizenore armor and just as an impressive crown sat upon his round head.
"King Stout," Zulp said as he and his brother bowed to one knee. "We present you with Jamison Rayheart, a messenger from Galdarath."
"Thank you Zulp and Olaf. You are dismissed," Golgar told them.
"But, Your Majesty," Olaf interjected.
"I told you not to be calling me 'Your Majesty'. Take leave, the both of you. That is an order," Golgar commanded.
Zulp and Olaf nodded their heads and left the throne room.
King Stout stroked the braids of his large auburn beard. "What brings you here, Jamison Rayheart?"
"I bring a letter from the King of Galdarath, Sebastian Buxton," Jamison answered.
"Is he your true king?" Golgar asked.
"He is the acting king. King Thaddeus Graystone is on an important quest. King Buxton has temporarily taken his seat on the throne," Jamison answered.
"Acting king, eh? So am I," Golgar replied. "How did you find your way down here?"
"Luck, I suppose," Jamison said.
"They didn't even cover up the entrance when they left! No matter, I will have it hidden once more after your departure," King Stout told him. "Well, let me see this letter you bring."
Jamison approached the throne and handed Golgar a folded and sealed piece of parchment. King Stout broke the wax seal, unrolled the letter, and read.
To whom it may concern:
My name is Sebastian Buxton, acting King of Galdarath. Before accepting my second stint as King, I was Galdarath's Commander and protector of King Thaddeus Graystone. In the King's absence, I have been directed to safe guard the kingdom.
As I hope you are aware, Calencia is on the verge of falling into darkness once more. The Dark Wizard, Hasbarie, has returned to the land of the living. These are dire times indeed.
I am aware that a Wizard from Fogarth has set out for Pizenchaffe. I hope he has found you well. I suspect that the Wizard came to recruit your king to his cause, and I assume this letter will be delivered to whoever has the duty of leading your people. We have both been blessed, or cursed, with the responsibility of protecting our respected kingdoms in these perilous times. It is my belief that we must not sit idly by as the Lord of the Dead mobilizes and strengthens his forces. We must act. I do not know what instruction or authority your king gave to you before he departed, but Thaddeus conveyed to me that the most important thing was the protection of our kingdom. I assume your king gave you similar instruction. It is my belief that to achieve this goal, we must act. While King Graystone and Azonis Ferrini, the Sestian of Lasticall, are gone fulfilling their responsibilities to Calencia, I feel we must fulfill our own responsibilities. With that being said, I propose that we prepare our forces to march on Hasbarie in the uninhabited area west of Morgorath. I have also sent correspondences to Dead Marsh and Lasticall. It saddens me to think of the travesty that fell upon the Brazurkins, but I fear the same fate for the rest of the kingdoms if swift action is not taken.
I propose that we send the majority of our forces, leaving behind only the minimal amount of troops to defend our kingdoms, to destroy Hasbarie and his forces. It was revealed to me that only the descendants of the Saviors would be able to defeat Hasbarie. This
may be true, but I am not willing to sit back and watch his forces ravage our lands. I do not want to see the Dead Lands grow any larger than they already are. I plan on marching Galdarath's army toward Hasbarie's self appointed territory in two days time from the time I sent this letter. My messenger, Jamison can inform you of the current deadline. If all goes well, we should encounter the Dark Wizard on the day after we depart from Pizenchaffe. I implore you to consider strengthening Calencia's Army by sending your army to take place in the battle, just as it was so many years ago.
I have heard a great and many things concerning your people. I truly hope we have the opportunity to fight next to one another in the battle for Calencia. Please inform me of your decision in a timely manner. If you choose to pursue this course of action, Galdarath's army will wait for you on the outskirts of your kingdom, along the main road.
Sincerely, Sebastian Buxton
Golgar read, and re-read the letter, tugging at his beard as he mouthed the words. The longer he read, the redder his cheeks became.
He looked up at Jamison. "How long ago was this letter sent?" Golgar asked.
"Yesterday," Jamison replied.
"Humm. I have one day, possibly two, to prepare my people for war. It will take longer than that for our eyes to become accustomed to the burning ball of fire in the sky," Golgar said, as he stood and paced back and forth in front of the throne. "I heard what happened to Morgorath. I actually had the pleasure of speaking with their king, Urganox."
"The Brazurkin King?" Jamison questioned. "Everyone suspects him dead."
"He is not dead. He is alive and well. A few days ago the Wizard and his companions showed up in Pizenchaffe. Our rightful king had lost his throne to a most wretched Dainty. The Wizard and King Graystone's brother, along with Captain Red and King Skullsplitter, helped overthrow the king and place King Oggius Stonefist back on the throne," Golgar told him, still pacing back and forth. "Poor Oggy. He only had his throne back for one night and had to turn it over to me."
"How long ago did this happen?" Jamison asked.
Golgar laughed. "Just last night. Our king and the Wizard departed only hours ago."
"Who is this man you speak of? The king's brother? King Thaddeus Graystone has no brother," Jamison asked.
Stunned, Golgar turned and said, "He does, too, have a brother. I met him. His name is Lot Caskill," King Stout said.
The Thief? "Are you certain?" Jamison asked.
"Yes I am certain. I traveled with them for days," Golgar answered.
"Forgive me for sounding unbelieving. I was not aware that King Graystone had a brother," Jamison said as he bowed to one knee.
"No need to worry," Golgar said, finally standing still. "Send word to King Buxton telling him that he has the support of the Dainties. I will have an army ready to march by the morrow, though I must warn him. It will not be a large army. After the Great War, we lost many of our people. We have stayed hidden all of these years hoping to avoid another conflict so we could repopulate our race. The most I can spare will be one hundred troops. No more, no less."
"Yes, King Stout. I will inform King Buxton right away," Jamison responded.
"Is there any other business to discuss?" Golgar asked.
"No, King Stout. That is all," Jamison replied.
"Very well. I will have my men escort you to the surface and see you on your way," King Stout said.
"Thank you for your hospitality. I will send word at once," Jamison replied as he bowed once more.
Zulp and Olaf led Jamison back through the narrow tunnel that would bring him to the surface.
"And just how do you plan on getting out of here?" Zulp asked.
"Don't you worry about that," Jamison said with a smile. "Make sure you bring a ladder with you when you plan on leaving."
"A ladder?" Olaf asked. "For what?"
Jamison smiled and leapt into the air. He stretched out his arms and legs and shimmied up the shaft. After a moment, he disappeared out of sight. Olaf and Zulp covered their eyes to shield out the few rays of blinding sunlight.
"I think he is half spider," Zulp said.
"He is half something," Olaf replied.
On the surface, Jamison dug through his bag and pulled out a tiny cage. He scribbled on a piece of parchment and attached it to the leg of a snoot.
"King Buxton, Galdarath!" Jamison said, releasing the bird into the air and watching as it flew north east.
When the bird disappeared out of sight, Jamison rode hard for Galdarath.