The Forgotten Kingdom Read online

  The

  Forgotten

  Kingdom

  © 2013 by J.M. Fosberg

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or distributed by any means without prior permission in writing from the author.

  Acknowledgments:

  First I would like to thank God for giving me my imagination and passion.

  I would like to thank Martin Coffee for his work editing this book. His input has been invaluable.

  I would also like to thank my beta readers Jef Goelz, Sally Tingley-Walker, Stuart Bohnet, and Rita Weller for their input.

  Dedication:

  I dedicate this book to my wife and kids who continue to support me as I pursue my dreams of writing.

  Books by J.M. Fosberg

  Rising of a Mage Trilogy

  Rising of a Mage

  Gods and Magic

  A Mage Risen

  The Half-Dwarf Prince Series

  The Half-Dwarf Prince

  The Dwarf War

  Dwarves of Chaos

  The Forgotten Dwarves Saga

  The Phantom Dwarf

  The Forgotten Kingdom

  Kings and Assassins

  A King’s Assassins

  (Coming 2015)

  The First Kingdom

  Otthon

  (Coming 2015)

  Prologue

  Grizzle stood in the ring of men. The Battle of the Blood had begun. The dark skinned man with the draping black hair threw his arms around the back of his neck. The man pulled down on his head. He had underestimated the strength of the dwarf king. Grizzle’s head did not go down. He reached forward and grabbed the man’s neck in his hand. He squeezed with the strength gained through years of swinging a hammer in a smith. He saw the moment of panic in the man’s eyes. It lasted only a second, however, and Grizzle lay on his back staring up into the bright sun, the hot sand scorching his bare back.

  He felt the tightness in his arm. He looked over and realized his mistake. The man had not grabbed hold of his arm in an attempt to free it from his neck. He had used it as an anchor to swing his body around. The momentum threw them both to the ground and the man now had his arm extended between his legs. He was pulling down on his wrist, trying to break it over his leg.

  Dwarven stubbornness took over. He turned toward the man and forced himself to stand. The man was now on his shoulders with his legs wrapped around Grizzle’s arm. He pulled and the arm and tried to straighten his legs out, but Grizzle was walking over him. All of the man’s weight was on the back of his head and the top of his shoulders. Grizzle new that the man wouldn’t be able to breath this way. He was standing over him and he could feel that the man’s grip on his wrist was loosening, so he tried to jerk his arm free again. Grizzle was pulled down again. Now his face slammed into the hot sand. The man had his arm in the same position, but now he was lying on his stomach. He didn’t have as much leverage, but Grizzle couldn’t turn toward him. Instead of trying to pull his arm free he ignored the pain and reached his other arm around the man’s leg. He began to tug on the leg, pulling his body away from the man at the same time as lifting the leg. With an upward jerk, he snapped the man’s leg just above the ankle and pulled his own arm out of its socket. The pain shot down his body and up into his neck. He ignored it and turned toward the man.

  The man let go of Grizzle’s dislocated arm that no longer prevented Grizzle from moving as he rolled onto his back. Grizzle dropped down on top of the man’s chest straddling him. His good arm went down and he grasped the man’s throat. The man tried to throw him off, but with his one leg broken, Grizzle was able to stay on top of him. He squeezed the man’s throat.

  Grizzle looked up into the eyes of the clan leader. “He is finished.”

  The clan leader gave nothing away with his face. “The Battle of the Blood can only be decided in death.”

  Grizzle stared at the man for a moment. His opponent still struggling underneath him, he looked down into the warrior’s eyes. He pushed all of his weight down as he locked out his arm. There was a popping sound as the man’s throat crushed. The man struggled for a few more seconds and then he went limp.

  Grizzle stood, his dislocated arm hanging limply; he looked into the eyes of the clan chief. “The Battle of the Blood has been decided.”

  Chapter One

  The Phantom Dwarf

  Rundo walked up to King Stoneheart, the king over all of the dwarves. His son—the half-dwarf, half-human prince—towered next to his father, looking like he was carved from a six-foot boulder. He looked around for the king’s two personal guards. “Where are Dobo and Gobo?”

  Grizzle nodded back toward the palace. “They are inspecting the locks on the room where they secure their armor. I think it would have been easier to convince them to cut off one of their hands than to get them to leave their armor.”

  Rundo smiled, thinking about how big of scene the two overly animated dwarves must have made. “How did you convince them to leave it?”

  Grizzle and Grundel looked at each other and smiled.

  “You threatened to leave them here with their armor didn’t you?” Rundo stated more than asked.

  A smile back was all the answer Rundo needed.

  “We better get going. We are all meeting at the palace gate. We only have an hour before sunup,” Grizzle explained.

  When they made their way to the front of the palace, Dobo and Gobo were already waiting with Anna, Jerrie, King Patria, Evelyn, and Master Brennin. Grizzle went to Anna, Rundo went to Evelyn, and the rest of them all said their goodbyes to King Patria, Master Brennin, and Jerrie.

  “We haven’t told anyone about your departure, so the Black Dragons should not have been able to set up any kind of ambush. They will likely be watching the palace though, so they might be able to set something up between here and the gate,” Grizzle explained.

  “Been too long since we cracked some skulls,” Dobo said.

  They all smiled. King Patria took Grizzle’s hand in his. “Good luck.”

  “We’re going home,” Grizzle said with a smile.

  “Just make sure you come back,” Anna said.

  “Yes ma’am,” the burly dwarf king answered before kissing her hand.

  After saying their goodbyes they turned and started making their way out of the gate.

  “Sun must have baked his brain in his skull, making dwarves leave their armor. Never heard of a dwarf on a journey with no armor,” Dobo complained.

  “What will the forgotten ones think of a group of dwarves who aren’t even wearing armor?” Gobo asked no one in particular.

  They were about two blocks from the gate when Messah screeched overhead. Dobo and Gobo stopped complaining and Rundo spun in time to see the crossbowman aiming in from the rooftop to the right. Tapping into his Druidic power, he linked with the aura of the wind and pushed a strong gust upward. The crossbow thrummed and the bolt came toward them. It hit the wall of air and deflected over their heads.

  Grundel threw his axe at the top of the wall. He didn’t call the axe back this time, instead he let it stay in the wall and he called on the magic in the axes. The axe in his hand flew to the one in the top of the wall. He released the magic at the last second and went toppling over the wall. There were two men. The first had just finished cranking his crossbow. He raised it at Grundel. Grundel just barely turned his axe in time to deflect the bolt. He kicked the crossbowman in the chest, knocking him back the back of his legs hitting the low wall as he went toppling over it. Grundel turned to face the other man. The man was looking for someway to escape, but Grundel was between the stairs and the man. Finally he charged at Grundel lunging with his sword. The man stepped to the right at the
last minute, then leapt back in. It was a good feint, but Grundel did not go for it. The sword came in at his legs. He jumped over the sword coming down on the man’s back. His axe came down in the back of the man’s skull.

  Across the street Bergmann slammed into the body of the Black Dragon assassin watching the commotion from inside the first floor window. The man’s mind offered almost no resistance as he took control of the body. He leveled the crossbow at Grizzle. Just as he got the dwarf king in his sights, another dwarf came crashing through the window. He pulled the trigger on the crossbow, but he was already tumbling back into the room. By the time they hit the ground, the maniacal dwarf had already driven the spikes protruding from the back of the bracers on his arms into the man’s face. Bergmann left the dead body as the dwarf he now recognized as Dobo pulled the spikes free of bone. The other man was charging at Dobo, who didn’t even attempt to lift his hammer off of his back. Instead, he charged back. The man hesitated only a moment, but by the time he committed to his strike, Dobo was able to catch the blade in his arm spike. His other hand came up and punched the man in the chin. The tip of the man’s tongue dropped to the floor and he stumbled back. Dobo twisted his arm down and the sword snapped. The man was using the sword as much to balance himself as he stumbled back as he was to defend. This was likely the only reason he was able to hold onto the hilt as the blade broke. The man fell back to the floor, holding up a sword with no more than a hand’s length of blade left. He looked down at the blade as if it had betrayed him. “You know that saying, a good sword could be the difference betweenh life or death? You should have spent the money on a better sword.”

  The man threw what was left of his sword at Dobo. Dobo laughed. “There’s a saying about that too. Never throw your only weapon.”

  The man drew a small dagger no more than a couple of inches long. Dobo smiled back at him. He ignored the threat of the blade, diving headfirst at the man. The top of his head slammed into the man’s face. He barely heard the crunching sound as the man’s face crushed, forcing bone and cartilage back into his brain. Dobo stood and shook his head, clearing his vision. He looked down at the small knife that the man had dropped. It had cut through the thick leather shirt he was wearing and dug into his arm. He picked up the blade. “Spent too much money on the wrong blade,” he said as he slid the finely crafted dwarf steel into the hard leather sheath inside his boot. He opened the door and walked out into the street.

  Bergmann followed him out into the street. He had to admit that these two brothers continued to live up to their reputation. It was mesmerizing watching them fight. A man came flying out of the window of the building next door. Gobo came flying out behind him. Both of his knees came down in the center of the man’s back. The body bent backwards unnaturally and they all knew that the man was now paralyzed. “Don’t kill him,” Grizzle said as his hammer flew back into his hand. Down the street, a chunk of the wall was missing from the corner of a building. Among the scattered ruble lay a man whose head was unnaturally deflated.

  Gobo looked up at him. “Let Patria see what he can get out of the man. If he can get nothing, another public display against the Black Dragons will strengthen his cause against them.”

  Gobo shrugged and stood. The soldiers were already rushing down the street. They paused as they approached, looking up at the huge silhouette of Grundel standing on top of the building. He reached down and pulled his axe out of the top of the stone wall and then dropped off of the second story roof, a double blade axe held out to the side in each hand. He hit the ground with a thud and dropped to one knee. He slid his axes’ handles into their sheathes on his back and stood.

  “That was more organized than I was expecting. Is anyone hurt?”

  “Master Dobo,” the patrol leader declared. Dobo and Gobo had become local legends after their last visit to Patria, during which they spent most of it on Black Dragon raids.

  “Ah, just a scratch,” Dobo said. Gobo glanced over, looking through the cut leather. “He’s fine,” he confirmed. Everyone else accepted it.

  Grizzle turned to the patrol leader. “Sergeant, this man is crippled. Take him to King Patria. The rest are all dead. Gather them up and the king will tell you what he wants done. We have to continue on our way.”

  The man saluted with an open hand on his chest. “Yes, your highness.”

  Grizzle continued down the road. At the east gate, they found Hamid waiting. He was holding the lead of a camel. On the camel’s back was a single blanket. Waterskins were tied together and draped over the camel’s back. There were at least a dozen skins hanging on each side.

  Hamid looked at the metal bracers on Dobo and Gobo’s arms. He seemed to be debating for a moment. Finally he looked over to Grizzle. “We are ready then?”

  “We are not ready!” Dobo shouted at the man.

  “Why would we leave our armor? What kind of a man separates a dwarf from his armor?”

  The man looked at the two dwarves for a moment as if he was about to say something. He refrained and turned to King Stoneheart.

  “We are ready,” Grizzle agreed. Hamid turned and led them out of the east gate. The sun was just above the horizon, illuminating the edge of the brown desert. The six of them began walking toward that large brown spot on the horizon.

  Chapter Two

  The Phantom Dwarf

  “King Stoneheart!” one of the guards from the gate came rushing out of the city after them. They were only a few minutes out of the city.

  Grizzle turned to see what it was that the soldier wanted. “King Stoneheart, Patria sent me to stop you. He needs to talk to you about something. He didn’t tell me what he wanted, but he told me to have you wait for him.”

  Grizzle stared at the man, trying to judge him. Something about him didn’t seem right. “Where…”

  Before he could finish, Dobo leapt out in front of him, pulling his war hammer off of his back with unimaginable quickness. The soldier, believing he was discovered, immediately threw a small throwing knife at Hamid, the dark skinned man that was leading them into the desert. Without this man, they would wander aimlessly into the unforgiving sun-scorched sands of the Einode. In a flash, the Einode man spun, throwing up the sun-bleached cloak that hung loosely around him. The dagger caught harmlessly in the cloth.

  Gobo came in at the soldier’s side. The man had his sword up in an attempt to hold off Dobo. Dobo held his attention until the last second, when Gobo attacked. He brought his sword up to deflect, but Gobo’s black blade showed its power as it cut through the steel of the soldiers defending sword, continuing into the man’s shoulder and down into his chest. Gobo looked down at the blade. It had been magically enchanted by the God of Chaos. He hated where the weapon had come from, but he couldn’t deny that the dwarven steel was more powerful than any weapon he had ever used before. This very blade had cut through his axe during the Battle of Tiefes Loch. The blade

  Before the soldier’s body hit the ground, Gobo felt the presence of Bergmann. Gobo laughed out loud. “This is the body of a true child of Bordin. You are not welcome in this body, you fool.” He felt the anger of Bergmann before he pushed the presence of the phantom from his mind.

  Bergmann had only been a phantom for a short time, but he had never been so abruptly dismissed. He hadn’t even had the opportunity to try and take hold of anything inside the dwarf. The dwarf warrior had ejected him with such abruptness that he hadn’t even had a chance to fight for control. He watched as the group checked on their guide. He tried to move forward, but realized he was as far as he could go without a body to carry him.

  He had learned from the mind of the necromancer that a phantom was tied to the point of its creation. When he had been in the body of the dwarf he had taken at Tiefes Loch, he had been able to move away from the point he was anchored to. Now without having spent any time in anyone’s body, he was unable to move any further. He wished he could have spent more time in the mind of that necromancer, but Jerrie had killed the man befo
re he could get much information.

  He was as far from Tiefes Loch as he was able to move without spending some time in a body. He watched as Stoneheart and his dwarves made their way east toward the Einode, toward the Forgotten Kingdom. He could not follow, so he had only one choice. He would go with the dwarves to Shinestone. That was where he could continue to take his revenge.

  When he arrived at the palace, he found that the dwarves were already gone. He made his way through the city to the north where he would find the dwarf encampment. He knew that he had to take a body soon or he would be forced to start moving back toward Tiefes Loch. He was nearly to the gate when he saw the soldiers who would have escorted the dwarves to the gate. He knew that the dwarves would be too far from the palace for him to reach them. He slammed his presence into the body of the man in front. The soldier was mentally strong. His mind was trained by constant drilling and training. He had no drill that would protect his mind though and after a moment’s resistance, he began to panic. Panic was his greatest tool. When the mind began to panic, it stopped resisting and gave him the opportunity to take control. He pushed the man’s presence down and turned the body back to face his men. “The Black Dragons are after the dwarves. We should stay with them at least until they reach the borders of Patria,” he told his men.

  Bergmann watched through the man’s eyes as the men nodded their agreement. He turned the horse he rode back toward the gate and rode north toward the dwarf’s encampment. The guards at the gate stopped him then. “Where are you going?”

  “We are going to stay with the dwarves for a little while just to make sure they are not ambushed by the Black Dragons on Patria land.”

  The man at the gate nodded his head approvingly and stepped out of the way. Bergmann rode through the gate anxiously. He had just taken this body and was not sure how far it would allow him to travel. He was able to ride out of the city and follow Kraft and Frau back toward the camp.