banner pass him by earlier that day. He was a pitiable man, his raiment was in rags and his ribs showed through his stained costume. My men saw no harm in it, so they brought him to my tent.
“ The jester eyed me sharply, too sharply for a lost soul looking for scraps, and said, “Listen my lord to this riddle of ancient times and if you find it fair enough then feed me well enough,” he said, his voice croaking with thirst or mad, grim humor. “For so it is said, that when the Eternal City buckles beneath the Shadow’s boots, so must the Master open Tyr’s wergild so that the Wisest may proclaim what the emperor invokes. Seal the covenant with the blood of the Bravest that which was made by Tyr, to save Tyr.”
Tarion walked back over to the Dragonheart, aware that this was the moment. He looked to Ancenar, and said, “Loki said the Dragonheart needed all of us: the master smith Baruk to open, the wisest of the Elves to proclaim and the emperor to invoke. I can only assume it’s my blood that will seal the covenant—what covenant?”
The elven lord shook his head. “We know how to use the Dragonheart as a library, but its inner secrets have ever been hidden from us. I can only surmise that is because the genius of the dwarves, Tyr’s beloved folk, has never been used to open the stone.”
Baruk stepped up to the stone, examining it closely. The booming of the stairs came closer, closer, but none dared interrupt him. Finally, the dwarf king lifted the stone, and thereby exclaimed, “Ah, there you are!”
His thick yet dexterous dwarf fingers touched many facets in a particular order and in a particular way. That done, he carefully set the stone back on the pedestal. It began to glow with a deep inner purple light.
“The Dragonheart awaits your command,” moaned the stone.
Ancenar stepped up and laid his hands on the stone and muttered a simple charm, saying, “The stone will reveal this purpose to me.” He closed his eyes concentrating as if listening to some soft elusive words in the wind. At length the stone responded with a faraway voice, “Behold the Dragonheart, Tyr’ s Truthstone , to read the wisdom of all ages, or in need, for the lords of the free peoples to use their endowments to seize the day. Carpe Diem! Set that time with the blood of the bravest—to seize the day until thine desire bears fruit.”
Ancenar opened his eyes. “The jester, maybe Loki himself, knew this might come to pass. He knew the Wanderer might need time. The Dragonheart cannot stop the Destructor; but it can seize this day until the Wanderer returns!”
“Do it Ancenar! King Baruk has opened the stone. You are the wisest; it is for you to proclaim our desire!”
“Carpe Diem!” the elven lord told the stone. “Seize this day until the Prophecy of Alfrodel is fulfilled and the Wanderer returns to the world!”
A harsh laugh sounded outside the door and something struck it. The door creaked, the wood bulging, ready to burst. Tarion rushed to it and threw his shoulder against the timbers. “Now Diocletian; you are the lord of men. Invoke the Dragonheart; do it before it’s too late!”
Ancenar clutched Diocletian and urged him, “Emperor invoke it, invoke Carpe Diem! Fulfill the Prophecy of Alfrodel!”
The stone glowed and replied, “The Emperor of Men must invoke the Dragonheart. Carpe Diem, seize the day; seal the covenant with the blood of the Bravest.”
“ Emperor Diocletian, you must invoke it!” Tarion urged. Diocletian stared at him dumbly. Tarion left the door to force the emperor onto the stone. As he did so the door flew off its hinges, flinging him against the wall.
Minerva screamed and ran to her father as a yellow bearded giant ducked beneath the arch. Dazed by the blow, Tarion scrambled to his feet, but the giant covered the space in a single stride, swinging an enormous axe at him. It shaved an inch from the purple crest of his helm before clanging into the wall, sending shards of
“ The jester eyed me sharply, too sharply for a lost soul looking for scraps, and said, “Listen my lord to this riddle of ancient times and if you find it fair enough then feed me well enough,” he said, his voice croaking with thirst or mad, grim humor. “For so it is said, that when the Eternal City buckles beneath the Shadow’s boots, so must the Master open Tyr’s wergild so that the Wisest may proclaim what the emperor invokes. Seal the covenant with the blood of the Bravest that which was made by Tyr, to save Tyr.”
Tarion walked back over to the Dragonheart, aware that this was the moment. He looked to Ancenar, and said, “Loki said the Dragonheart needed all of us: the master smith Baruk to open, the wisest of the Elves to proclaim and the emperor to invoke. I can only assume it’s my blood that will seal the covenant—what covenant?”
The elven lord shook his head. “We know how to use the Dragonheart as a library, but its inner secrets have ever been hidden from us. I can only surmise that is because the genius of the dwarves, Tyr’s beloved folk, has never been used to open the stone.”
Baruk stepped up to the stone, examining it closely. The booming of the stairs came closer, closer, but none dared interrupt him. Finally, the dwarf king lifted the stone, and thereby exclaimed, “Ah, there you are!”
His thick yet dexterous dwarf fingers touched many facets in a particular order and in a particular way. That done, he carefully set the stone back on the pedestal. It began to glow with a deep inner purple light.
“The Dragonheart awaits your command,” moaned the stone.
Ancenar stepped up and laid his hands on the stone and muttered a simple charm, saying, “The stone will reveal this purpose to me.” He closed his eyes concentrating as if listening to some soft elusive words in the wind. At length the stone responded with a faraway voice, “Behold the Dragonheart, Tyr’ s Truthstone , to read the wisdom of all ages, or in need, for the lords of the free peoples to use their endowments to seize the day. Carpe Diem! Set that time with the blood of the bravest—to seize the day until thine desire bears fruit.”
Ancenar opened his eyes. “The jester, maybe Loki himself, knew this might come to pass. He knew the Wanderer might need time. The Dragonheart cannot stop the Destructor; but it can seize this day until the Wanderer returns!”
“Do it Ancenar! King Baruk has opened the stone. You are the wisest; it is for you to proclaim our desire!”
“Carpe Diem!” the elven lord told the stone. “Seize this day until the Prophecy of Alfrodel is fulfilled and the Wanderer returns to the world!”
A harsh laugh sounded outside the door and something struck it. The door creaked, the wood bulging, ready to burst. Tarion rushed to it and threw his shoulder against the timbers. “Now Diocletian; you are the lord of men. Invoke the Dragonheart; do it before it’s too late!”
Ancenar clutched Diocletian and urged him, “Emperor invoke it, invoke Carpe Diem! Fulfill the Prophecy of Alfrodel!”
The stone glowed and replied, “The Emperor of Men must invoke the Dragonheart. Carpe Diem, seize the day; seal the covenant with the blood of the Bravest.”
“ Emperor Diocletian, you must invoke it!” Tarion urged. Diocletian stared at him dumbly. Tarion left the door to force the emperor onto the stone. As he did so the door flew off its hinges, flinging him against the wall.
Minerva screamed and ran to her father as a yellow bearded giant ducked beneath the arch. Dazed by the blow, Tarion scrambled to his feet, but the giant covered the space in a single stride, swinging an enormous axe at him. It shaved an inch from the purple crest of his helm before clanging into the wall, sending shards of
Similar Books
