Thirty-Seven

Miniature mountain ranges, forests consisting of individually crafted trees, rivers, roads, villages, towns and cities were perfectly recreated. Rendered completely with various coloured paints and stains, the model appeared to be a mapof the country Dumar assumed this to be.

A number of chairs were arranged around the circumference of this table, some of which were occupied.

Queen Celouise sat in quiet conversation with Commander Fultard while an ancient looking man in flowing, dark green robes watched Dumar's approach. Warval and Alystra were also seated at the huge map table, the prince was tapping his fingers nervously on the wooden edge while his sister had resumed her study of Dumar himself as soon as she realised he had entered.

Fultard caught Dumar's attention and gestured to him, Celouise turned and acknowledged him too.

"Good morning, Dumar. I trust you had a pleasant night?"

"Pleasant enough night," Dumar replied flatly, "It was the evening just before that I wasn't so keen on."

The queen looked askance at him while gesturing to a seat between Fultard and the oddly dressed man. Dumar sat down, removing the backpack as he did so and added.

"Had a bit of a fall out with Grethron," he understated the episode. The big man gestured at the gathered people. "What's all this?"

Celouise looked at Dumar for a few moments, as if assessing his mood, before she replied.

"I requested the presence of some of my advisers in order to attempt to find a solution to the problem we have at hand," the Queen indicated the older of the two oddly dressed men. "May I present the Polstice Narami, spiritual leader and head of the Church of Dawa?" The old man inclined his head slowly.

"And you are Dumar," the ancient looking man spoke in a firm, clear voice. "I have been told you assisted our royal family in their time of need. On behalf of all the devoted members of the Church of Dawa, I offer my heartfelt thanks."

Dumar realised this old man was completely sincere in his thanks and felt a warmth rise in his chest as a response. On closer inspection Dumar realised this man was truly old, possibly bordering on ancient, his paper thin, slightly yellowing skin was stretched tightly across the bones of his skull. White wisps of hair barely covered his liver spotted scalp and his long fingered hands appeared almost skeletal.

The bright green eyes which held the attention of Dumar's own, however, were clear and assured a highly intelligent person sat before him.

"I didn't do much," Dumar said modestly.

Narami raised one hairless eyebrow.

"As you wish," he acceded. "How do you feel since arriving here?"

Dumar was thrown off balance by the question, did the old man mean here today or here as in his supposed arrival on this world.

"Sorry," Dumar said. "I'm not quite sure what you mean. Have you been talking to Grethron?"

The old man shook his head and leaned his thin frame towards the big man.

"You do not seem to fit that body quite as well as you should," he smiled. "That old charlatan of a necromancer might be able to poke your soul into a new body, son, but it will take more than a little finger waggling to put it past me."

Dumar considered his words.

"Can you tell just by looking then?" He wondered sceptically.

Narami tilted his old head to one side and stated in a matter of fact tone.

"If you were to see the world through my eyes you would understand. I am not known as the spiritual leader of the church for no reason, you see," he smiled once more. "So, how do you feel?" He pressed.

Dumar thought for a moment.

"I feel angry," the big man admitted. "Lied to, used, pissed off and really angry."

Narami nodded.

"Honesty. That makes for a refreshing change," he stated dryly as Dumar realised the queen and Commander Fultard were paying attention to the conversation.

Narami's expression became serious.

"Tell an old man to mind his own business, son, but what happened recently that has caused you so much pain?"

"Mind your own business," Dumar retorted gruffly.

Narami nodded without taking any offence.

"We expect the arrival of Grethron and General Fashzhamina soon," Celouise stated in a marginally embarrassed tone. "Once both have arrived, we will begin the council," the Queen looked Dumar in the eye. "I realise you may feel as if you are in deep water here," she said gently. "However, should you feel there is something which is being overlooked or a new idea comes to you, please do me the favour of speaking your mind."

Dumar gazed back at the woman he barely knew and noted the tell-tale signs of stress. Purple half-moons beneath her ice blue eyes indicated a lack of sleep, a mild tick in the corner of her left eye and overnight deepening of the lines in her face all pointed towards extreme stress.

The big man considered the attitude of this woman towards him and realised she had been nothing but honest and fair in all her dealings with him. He in turn had been partially instrumental in halting the attempt on her throne and possibly her life, maybe here actions counted for something.

Maybe here if you're honest and true it gets returned in kind?

"Course I will, your Majesty," Dumar stated, allowing a small smile to light his face slightly.

As the Queen turned to say something more to Commander Fultard, Dumar heard a knock on the door which was opened to admit Grethron and another, small man.

As the two approached, Dumar noticed Fultard stiffen almost imperceptibly and followed his gaze to the newcomer. Celouise stood as the pair entered.

"Good of you to join us, gentlemen," there was an air of sarcasm and annoyance in her voice. Turning to Dumar she said. "This is General Fashzhamina, commander of the combined armies of Lorneria and the Rothmury kingdom," she indicated the small man who Fultard seemed to dislike.

The General was a compact, yet powerful looking man who held himself as straight as the edge of a ruler. His uniform was immaculately presented and pressed, buttons polished to a mirror sheen as were the black boots he wore.

His black hair was so dark as to appear to have a blue tint where the sunlight hit it, cropped short and with not a single strand out of place. Pencil line eyebrows arched over the most unusual eyes Dumar had ever beheld.

Almost closed, he could just make out the impression of tiny pupils and what appeared to be purple irises. The general had a sharp nose and high cheekbones combined with an almost lipless mouth, a small delta of black hair had been immaculately trimmed into a beard and he stood with his hands behind his back, motionless as a statue.

"Fashzhamina, I have the unique pleasure to introduce Dumar," Queen Celouise indicated the big man.

The General inclined his head towards Dumar who reciprocated.

"Now, gentlemen, to the matter at hand," Celouise looked at each person in turn. "For the benefit of Polstice Narami and General Fashzhamina who may not already be aware, the kingdom is under the direst threat," the queen paused to take a deep breath before announcing. "Malthrom is coming."