CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  RETREAT IS NOT SURRENDER

  Seeing that Lord Grimdall’s forces had taken a rest once they had fully scaled the set of mountains that looked out over The Barren Wasteland, Dwarf King Dormir Ironhearth left his fighters in the capable hands of Shallamok, while he and the Watchers of the High Mountain, made their way to The Temple of the Sacred Highlands.

  As one of the three Great Temples of Elion, The Temple of the Sacred Highlands was one of the grandest sights in all of Danaria. Whereas the human temple, The Temple of Unfaltering Devotion, towered magnificently from the ground into the sky, and the elven temple, The Temple of Perpetual Light, was carved into an ancient tree surrounded by natural beauty, the dwarven temple, The Temple of the Sacred Highlands, was centered on the first set of mountains. There it was prominently placed for those to see as they entered into the dwarven kingdom. Both for outsiders, and those dwarves returning to their homeland.

  Once King Ironhearth reached the top of the mountain that housed the Great Temple, he instructed the Watchers to wait outside. Though the enemy had not taken the field and were many miles away, Hadimere and the other Watchers stood resolutely at the entrance, battle axes in hand, gazing out, ready for anything that might come their way.

  As King Ironhearth walked down the stairs into the temple, he looked upon the carved murals all around him and at the glittering jewels still naturally embedded in the mountain. Once he finally reached the bottom, King Ironhearth looked at two of the oldest murals of the temple. The first one he admired was of Elion’s creation of Kaminess and Agmon, and the second was of Elion’s defeat of the evil demigod, once Agmon had succumbed to his hate and lust for power. The first mural was a scene of beauty, the second a scene of turmoil. Such is life, thought the dwarf king.

  “My king, it is always a pleasure to see you. I only wish you would see me at times other than when you are worried or concerned,” came a voice from across the room.

  Looking from the murals, King Ironhearth moved his gaze to a door closing behind an intricately carved alter in the temple sanctuary. Then at the old dwarf that walked over to stand behind it.

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  “I am sorry, Amagar, but the duties of a king keep me busy enough,” said King Ironhearth. Then he bowed slightly. “I praise Elion daily that we have such a patient and understanding high priest as yourself.”

  Amagar Brightstone smiled and bowed back. Then he walked over to King Ironhearth. “You are too kind, my king. Do you need counsel? Do you have prayers that you would like me to bring to Elion?” Then Brightstone lifted his staff and tapped it on the king’s shoulder. “You can speak to the god of all creation yourself, you know.”

  King Ironhearth gave a short laugh in response. “You bring to Elion all the prayers of our people, old one. I will not change.” After placing his right hand upon the high priest’s shoulder, the dwarf king continued, “The god of all creation and I do not always see things the same way.” Then as he patted the old dwarf’s shoulder he spoke again. “Anything I desire from Elion is best to be asked by you.”

  Seeing the uncertainty in King Ironhearth’s smile, Amagar’s smile vanished. “What can I do for you, Dormir?”

  After his eyes locked with the high priest’s for a few seconds, the dwarf king turned and looked up the steps and outward, toward the direction he came.

  “I have retreated from the coastal mountains,” announced King Ironhearth. “We fought hard, but Landon Rosser’s forces, his magic mixed with his monsters...” Then the king fell silent.

  High Priest Amagar Brightstone watched as King Ironhearth clearly was at war not only with an enemy, but also within himself.

  “My king. Retreat is not a surrender,” reminded Amagar.

  ”Indeed it is not, high priest,” agreed King Ironhearth, nodding thoughtfully. Then when he turned to face Brightstone, his face showed resolve. “I will not surrender our home to Rosser, no matter what he does or what he calls himself. Even so, I am wondering if we should now send our aged, our mothers and children to Aubrelon, as King Brock has offered.” Then he gazed at the holy place in front of him. “I want you to ask Elion for a sign. I have no doubt the fighting will begin tomorrow. Hopefully he will give you one by then.”

  When King Ironhearth looked back at the high priest, the old dwarf looked at the holy place for a moment and then looked back at his king.

  “You do not need a sign, Dormir. You know that. It is time to send our people away,” replied Brightstone, sternly, but respectfully. “You came to King Brock’s aid when Rosser tried to take his throne. Now let the human king aid you, as Rosser now tries to destroy your kingdom.”

  King Ironhearth stroked his beard as he looked down in contemplation. When he did not speak, the high priest spoke again. “You, Brock and Rosser are intertwined for some reason. The war has been fought in The Human Kingdom Lands and now in The Dwarven Mountains.” When King Ironhearth finally looked up, Brightstone finished, his face calm but serious.

  “It took both of you to beat Landon Rosser once. It may take you both to beat him again.”