Chapter Thirteen

The Gnomes Fell Down And Lost Their Crown

When the Scarlet Woman’s forces invaded Flinthold, the companions were at the Sign of the Wolverine waiting for Airk. They joined in the effort to defend Flinthold, but they were separated in the melee. When Flinthold’s defense broke, they were forced to flee with the gnomes when Flinthold’s defense broke.

Seline was despondent as she and Amyalla fled through one of Flinthold’s underground doors. They were surrounded by gnomish refugees, many of whom nursed injuries caused by the Scarlet Woman’s minions. All of the gnomes bore expressions of shock and despair, even as some of them desperately called out for missing friends or loved ones. Seline felt a hollow ache in her stomach as she looked at the gnomes, dismayed by how much they’d lost in a matter of hours. She exchanged glances with Amyalla, and saw that the halfling shared her feelings.

After an hour and a half of marching, a few of the gnomes tried to organize a plan and destination for the refugee group. Seline and Amyalla recognized Airk’s brother Gilduros as one of the organizers, along with two members of Flinthold’s Regency Council. When the organizers decided that they’d take the refugees to Silverspire, the second-largest city in the kingdom of Flinthold and the only other one with both surface and underground gates, none of the refugees argued. A few of the refugees who saw Amyalla and Seline trying to defend Flinthold vouched for them, after which the rest of the refugees consented to let the human and halfling accompany them.

As the refugees traveled along the underground tunnels leading to Silverspire, Gilduros came to join Amyalla and Seline. He was still dressed in his heavy plate armor, and some of the blood staining it was his own. He’d suffered several visible wounds, but if he felt any pain from his injuries he didn’t show it.

“You’re both well-traveled,” Gilduros said before Seline or Amyalla had a chance to speak. “Maybe you both can explain how those monsters overcame us so quickly.”

“Just what are you getting at?” Amyalla said with a scowl. “If you’re accusing us-“

“You saw how strong our doors were,” he said, ignoring her words, “and how well we locked them. We could have held those monsters off, but that red-headed woman leading them rang some sort of bell in front of them. The locks opened by themselves, and then the giants among her minions were able to force their way through. She did that at all the doors, in just a few minutes. How’s that even possible?”

Amyalla continued scowling at Gilduros, offended by what she thought he was implying, but Seline rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

“I’ve heard of magical items like those,” she said, “bells or chimes that can open locks when they’re rung. But what’s this about a red-headed woman?”

Gilduros briefly explained what he’d heard about the Scarlet Woman and how she’d killed High Regent Wilhelm.

“And how could she move around the way she did?” he asked, once he’d finished describing the Scarlet Woman and her actions.

“It was probably teleportation magic. That’s a bad sign,” Seline said. “Only exceptionally strong wizards can cast magic that powerful that many times. I don’t have the power for it.”

Seline and Amyalla exchanged worried glances, as Gilduros just shook his head. Seline defeated the wizard Xeravho, who did the power to teleport, during the companions’ search for the Crown of Arumdina, but their magical duel wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat.

Now Seline wasn’t sure what concerned her more, the mysterious red-headed woman’s power or the whereabouts of her friends.

After a further evening of marching, a sleepless and hungry night, and several more hours of marching the next day, the battered and exhausted refugees finally arrived at Silverspire. Many of the other gnomes who’d escaped Flinthold had sought shelter in Silverspire, and Seline and Amyalla were relieved to find that their friends had made it to Silverspire with those refugees.

Amyalla and Seline knew their companions were alive, but it was a cold comfort when they saw the Flintholders’ wretched condition. Most of the gnomes escaped with nothing more than the clothes on their backs, and many of them nursed painful injuries. Some families had been separated, others had lost children, siblings or parents. Many of them hadn’t eaten in the day and more since they’d been forced to flee their homes. They tried to find some place they could rest in the streets of Silverspire while the city’s leaders and the members of the Regency Council who’d escaped Flinthold tried to find them food and shelter.

Gilduros was silent as he led Amyalla and Seline to Silverspire’s city hall, where the Regency Council and the city’s leaders were meeting, but they could see how badly shaken he was by everything that had happened. One of the gnome refugees they’d encountered on the way to Silverspire’s city hall told Gilduros about Osian’s death, and for a moment Seline and Amyalla were afraid he’d collapse at the news. He forced himself to keep going, brushing off Seline’s and Amyalla’s concerns, although he appeared at least three shades paler than before.

When Gilduros, Seline and Amyalla arrived at the meeting, they were confronted with an unpleasant sight. Most of the gnome leaders were in several small groups, holding several animated discussions. Moswen and some of the other members of the Regency Council, as well as some of Silverspire’s leaders, were shouting at Airk. He stood shamefaced, seemingly unwilling to answer the other gnomes’ chastising.

“This is all on your head, you gods-cursed fool!” Moswen said, as several of the other gnome leaders nodded in agreement. “You brought that invasion down on us when you returned the Crown. Did you ever even stop to think of what could happen?”

Airk looked worse than ever as Seline, Amyalla and Gilduros approached him. He was as pale as Gilduros, and he seemed to have the weight of the Lortmils on his shoulders. Seline and Amyalla saw that the rest of their friends were standing behind Airk, all worn and exhausted in their own right. Gilduros joined Airk at his side, while Seline and Amyalla briefly embraced their friends.

Any relief Gilduros and the companions might have felt vanished when Moswen shouted again.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” he demanded, pointing accusingly at Airk. “You can’t even begin to-“

Airk opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t form so much as a word. That only seemed to make Moswen and the other gnomes even angrier…

…and that was the final straw for Weimar. Breaking away from the rest of his friends, he stomped up and placed himself between Airk and Moswen. His face was scarlet with rage, and his hand was on his axe handle as he scowled at Moswen. He cut Moswen off when the gnome was about to speak, pulling his axe halfway out of its belt loop as he did.

“Airk and Gilduros can’t say it, but I can,” he said, his eyes gleaming as he stared daggers at Moswen. “If anything, you and that arrogant buffoon you called a High Regent are to blame for all this. You were both so obsessed with being kings that you spent more time fighting each other than the real monsters!”

“Weimar, don’t-“ Airk finally said, but Weimar ignored him.

“You dare-“ Moswen started to say before Weimar cut him off.

“All Airk’s done is try to do right by his homeland,” Weimar said, not backing down an inch from the gnome leaders’ glares, “and you so-called kinfolk have treated him like dirt. It’s no wonder Flinthold’s in such sorry shape!”

Moswen choked on his anger, seemingly unable to do anything else. Several of the other gnome leaders and their guards didn’t have that problem, as they raised their weapons. Weimar pulled his axe from his belt, and the rest of the companions except for Airk readied their own weapons. The air filled with tension, as each side waited for the other to make the first move.

The first move didn’t come from the companions or most of the gnome leaders. It came from Arthur, the one member of the Regency Council who hadn’t taken sides in the feud between Moswen and Wilhelm, walking between the two groups. He brandished his large sword first in one direction and then the other, wielding it with both hands. His expression was calm, but the look in his eyes was as hard as the stone Flinthold was named for.

“You can avenge your pride later, Moswen,” he said. “Our first concern should be caring for our kin. We also need plan our retaking our capital. That’s what really matters right now.”

Grudgingly, Moswen and the other gnome leaders turned away from the companions and resumed their discussions. Gilduros and Arthur went to join them, as Airk went to rejoin his friends as they gathered off to the side.

“Thank Pelor, they’re finally focused on more important matters,” Luna said. “There are so many refugees…”

More than I would have expected being able to escape, Ma’non’go said. I wouldn’t be surprised if this Scarlet Woman, whoever she is, allowed many of them to leave. They spread knowledge of Flinthold’s fall and the capture of the Crown, and force the rest of the kingdom to spend its resources caring for them. When the Flintholders are already divided over the kingship…

Ma’non’go let the thought hang there, as his friends realized what he was thinking. The refugees carried stories of their capital city’s downfall to the rest of the kingdom, further weakening their kin’s already low resolve.

“That’s not the only problem,” Revafour said. “I don’t know if the Flintholders can defeat this Scarlet Woman’s forces on their own.”

Airk looked as though he wanted to deny it, but his expression showed he knew Revafour was right.

“The gnomes might not be able to win on their own…but maybe the Kutunachke could help,” Revafour continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Are you sure?” Airk said, his face clearly expressing his doubt. “Some of them weren’t exactly friendly when we fought the fire giants with them.”

“The Kutunachke would adhere to the old treaties they had with Flinthold,” Revafour said. “It’s a sacred thing.”

“Treaties like those are incredibly important to the Flan,” Luna said. “Shawnakark Little Moon told me about how the Raballah would be willing to help the Ideeans if they honored the treaties the Zelrad originally signed.”

Airk thought it over for several moments. He wasn’t convinced the Kutunachke would be as willing to help as Revafour and Luna claimed, but he also knew that Flinthold didn’t have many options.

“Whatever else we do, we need to get the Crown back,” he said. “The Flintholders’ hearts won’t be in the fight without it.”

“Then let’s do that first,” Revafour suggested, “before we seek out the Kutunachke. Do you think the councillors will agree?”

“At this point, I’m just about done caring what the Regency Council thinks,” Airk said, the disgust he felt for the Council all too clear to his friends. “Gilduros and that Arthur Cyruson man are the only ones worth speaking to. Let me deal with it.”

While the companions were conferring, Arthur, Moswen and the rest of the surviving Flinthold councillors discussed what they should do next. They agreed to send as many of the women and children as they could to Flinthold’s other towns, and send messengers to rally the rest of the kingdom’s military. They also discussed contacting Garnetholme for aid, but they realized their rival kingdom would be unlikely to provide it. Flinthold had become diplomatically isolated over the last twenty years, and it had few allies it could hope to call on. They separated to start on their assigned tasks, most of them deeply discouraged.

Airk managed to speak to Gilduros and Arthur in private, where he told them about the companions’ plans.

“How do you even plan to get back into Flinthold?” Gilduros said, shaking his head skeptically. “Are you going to use one of the escape tunnels?” Gnomish cities often possessed hidden escape tunnels that were difficult for invaders to find. The city of Flinthold was no exception, and the gnomes evacuated many of their civilians through the tunnels before the Scarlet Woman’s forces overwhelmed the city’s defenders. The civilians would have soldier escorts who closed the tunnel’s doors behind them before following the civilians.

“The invaders will have found some of our tunnels,” Gilduros continued, tugging at his moustache.

“Not all of them, though,” Airk said. “You both know as well as I do we hide our tunnels too well for that.”

“And your Flan friend honestly thinks the Kutunachke will help us?” Gilduros asked, his expression becoming even more skeptical. “After all this time?”

“That’s what he says, and I trust him,” Airk said. “And at this point, what do we have to lose?”

“Only our lives, and those of our loved ones,” Gilduros said, crossing his arms.

“And we will lose them if we don’t retrieve the Crown and find some aid,” Arthur said. “So be it-I’m approving this as a member of the Regency Council. Garl’s luck go with you, Airk-you’ll likely need it.”

Arthur shook Airk’s hand at that, and Airk was surprised to see he was holding a small golden ring which Arthur had pressed into his hand.

He was even more surprised when Arthur explained to him what the ring could do.

“We’ll leave in the morning,” Airk said to his friends once he’d recounted his conversation with Gilduros and Arthur. “Arthur and the rest of the Council will take care of the refugees and muster the rest of Flinthold’s army. They won’t be able to win on their own, not without the Crown. Flinthold’s depending on us, and its fate is in our hands.”

“Is this going to become an annual thing now?” Amyalla asked, raising one eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” Airk asked, his anxiety turning to confusion.

“Last year the fate of Idee was in our hands,” Amyalla said, reminding the companions of how they’d been caught up in the Herzog of South Province’s plot to break the Iron League. “If it’s Flinthold this year, which place will we have to save next year? The Kingdom of Keoland?”

Airk laughed at that in spite of himself.