Into the Light (Axe Druid Book 1)

by Christopher Johns

  “First blood is mine,” said the Paladin.

  “The last shall be yers on the ground,” growled the surly Brawnwynn. He was done trying to tackle his opponent and now walked calmly to the center.

  “Come,” he said.

  “You aren’t pretty enough,” Jaken said haughtily. The crowd chuckled, and more than a few of the Monks blushed.

  To my surprise, Brawnwynn actually laughed at the lewd joke. He grinned and stalked toward my friend. From there, it turned into a knockdown, drag-out brawl. Jaken’s strength and dexterity were challenged and there were a few close calls, but in the end, Jaken won with a decisive blow. He took a giant step forward to lower his center of gravity, then snagged Brawnwynn in a headlock that made him pass out after a couple minutes.

  The crowd clapped and cheered, and Jaken did something no one expected—he offered Brawnwynn a hand up. The Dwarf nodded and clasped the outstretched hand. A golden light enveloped the two, and both of their HP bars began to fill up.

  “Ye won, Orc blood, fair and square,” the Dwarf announced. “Ye be within yer rights ta ask a boon. If it be in me power, I will grant it.”

  The Fae-Orc seemed to think a moment then grinned. “I want you to look at me like you would a brother and close friend, like Elder Leo.”

  “PREPOSTEROUS!” shouted the Dwarf. He stomped about the circle throwing his hands into the air and muttering unintelligibly, “Orc wants… bloody laughing stock… children think? Friend my hairy arse… Mother was a goat…”

  He grumbled and paced for a moment longer until Leo stepped out to his friend saying, “Brawnwynn, you haven’t lost your Way, have you?”

  The Dwarf stood still as stone for a moment, then lowered his head in shame. He turned to his friend and sniffled, “Aye, I almos’ did. Thank ye, Leo.”

  He regarded Jaken, and then he shook his head. He took his ax from the ground and stepped toward our friend, and I took my own axe back in hand, just in case.

  “Hold out your palm, Orc,” he said.

  Jaken obliged, and the Dwarf slit a gash in the proffered palm, then did the same to his own. He dropped the weapon, clasped his bloodied palm to Jaken’s, and began to speak.

  “Weak blood with no home, through plains and forests ye did roam. Cleansed with the blood of the stone under the mountain, now called yer own. Kith and kin ye now be, me to ye and ye to me. Welcome now, newborn son of Clan Mugfist!”

  Shocked awe had settled over the crowd as the Dwarf finished his prayer.

  “If you know of the Way, follow it, and ye will be accepted as that of Dwarf blood. Our honor is yers and yers is our own. Do the clan proud. Yer me brother now, but friendship will come after a while.”

  The crowd went ballistic and surged toward the two men. They clapped each on the shoulder and back and wished them well.

  “He did everything as planned,” said Leo mildly from beside me. I jumped a bit because he hadn’t been there before.

  “You planned this?”

  “Had no choice, really.” He shrugged. “We had no idea what you would be when you came here. An Orc was an eventuality, and this was what I had cooked up in case it came to pass. That’s why I picked Brawnwynn as the guide. His clan takes in the misfits and those without a clan. Orc blood might be a first, but the Way is stricter than some might think. The Mugfist Clan is an honorable sort. I think you will like them, though they will be weary of you for your Sylvan ancestry.”

  “Would it be better for me to go with them as a human?”

  “No!” he blurted. “They would see that as a lie, and they would never trust you. Be yourself, and mind your manners, at least while you’re with them. Who knows, they may even like you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  A few hours later, we were all walking through a tunnel we hadn’t noticed to the right of the entrance to the valley. Kayda cried out and landed near me—now too big to land comfortably on my shoulder—where she thrust her head into my stomach. While we were down below the earth, she and Tmont would stay here and train some more with Leo taking care of them. We were bonded, and she understood that where I was going was necessary. Didn’t mean we liked it or that T wasn’t pissed.

  The rest of the party filed by and gave her pats and caresses. Tmont licked the bird’s cheek and then pounced on Bokaj to lick his face. It was a sad sight, but temporary, we hoped.

  The bird nuzzled me affectionately, then tore off in flight toward the training grounds.

  “Come now, Tmont,” called Elder Leo. “The sooner they go, the sooner they return.”

  The panther growled at the little man but rubbed against him as she walked by. She hissed at me and sat down. Guessing that she wanted to talk, I activated Nature’s Voice.

  “Yes?”

  “Take care of my master. Sometimes he has to be swatted in the middle of the night to keep him on his toes, and if anything happens to him, I will do more than simply nip your tail.”

  I nodded and patted her head. She purred briefly then padded off toward the monastery. After a nod from Leo, we were off.

  The walk to the city was uneventful, albeit confusing as hell. There were false passages and drop offs to be avoided, but the guide seemed to be drawn to the city without fail. We rested rarely but still needed to stop to sleep since the city was more than a day away.

  We rose early and ate what we had on hand, then moved on. We continued into what felt like the early afternoon when we came upon a large, solid metal door. It was easily fifteen feet tall and almost as wide with an almost silvery-blue color that seemed to swirl in places. Large runes were carved into the metal, and it was both intimidating and beautiful.

  “Oi, ye milksops in there!” shouted Brawnwynn. “Open tha’ door right now, or I will whack ye good, I swear on me great-great-great grand-uncle Fenick Mugfist!”

  “Hold yer horses, ye daft bastid!” greeted an equally surly but more muffled voice.

  A smaller door, about a third the size of the main door, opened on the right side, and out came a burly form that looked almost identical to our guide, but he had red hair and a fiery beard.

  “What’s with this mix-matched lot, Mugfist?” the guard questioned.

  “Fresh lot of customers for the forges Ironnose,” he said offhandedly. “Told to bring ‘em from the monastery, so I did. Gonna let us through or try to court one of ‘em?”

  “Yer ugly gob?” barked the guard after laughing. “Get ye gone afore I smash yer noggin, boy.”

  We filed by, but the guard growled and shouted at Brawnwynn, “Lad, the Seven Hells is wrong with ye? IRONNOSES TO ME! WE HAVE AN ORC!”

  Two more guards came out with hand axes at the ready and surrounded Jaken. To his credit, he didn’t so much as flinch.

  “Ye dare bring our most hated enemy here to the cit–“ the guard began but got cut off when Brawnwynn decked him with the meanest right hook I’ve seen in quite some time.

  “Any of ye lot touch this one, ye’ll pay,” he growled. “He follows the Way, surely as ye do and won the right to be counted amongst the numbers of the Mugfist Clan. Raise yer ax to him, raise it to me clan. Ye’ll incite war.”

  “How did he defeat ye?” asked one of the other guards as he helped the first to his feet.

  “Honorable combat under the sight of the Mountain,” Brawnwynn said proudly as he stood to his full height.

  “Aye?” the first said while rubbing his jaw. “Ye lost?”

  The Dwarf nodded, silently with his fists still raised.

  “Stand down then, lads. He’s safe,” the guard said. The other two shook their heads and chuckled as they walked back through the door.

  “What’s yer name, uh…” the Dwarf looked at a loss for words for a moment.

  “Jaken.”

  “Well met, Jaken.” The Dwarf thought a moment, then held out a hand which our friend shook once. “May want to get the clan sigil put on yer armor or a necklace. Might help keep folk from reacting how we did. Brawnwynn, me apologies, lad. I�
��ll let the rest of the clan know what was seen and the situation. Hopefully, we can keep things from getting too out of hand.”

  “Aye, all’s well then. A pint when next we meet for yer achin’ jaw?”

  “Aye, lad, that’ll do.”

  “The hammer falls.”

  “And rises again.”

  We went through the gate, just after getting Jaken an extra cloak to put over his Orcish features. We didn’t want to have to fight the whole bloody city, did we?

  The walkways were as wide as normal roads on the surface. Dwarves of all shapes and similar sizes walked here and there. Some greeted each other and spoke in friendly tones, mostly in Dwarvish, so all but one of us was at a disadvantage there, but it was nice. There were poles with enchanted lights on them that glowed a pale white, like the light of day, that lit the area surprisingly well. I said as much to Brawnwynn, and he just laughed.

  “We aren’t savages, fox. We don’t need light, but those down here who do appreciate our efforts on their behalf. The white light signifies daylight hours. When it is ‘night’, the stones in the lamps turn pale red. Keeps us all on a schedule o’ sorts.”

  That was actually really interesting to find out. “What else can you tell us about the city?”

  “Everything,” he said with a shrug. “What do ye wanna know?”

  “What will we be doing today?” asked Yohsuke.

  “Today, we go to the clan to see about beginning our bargaining with the forging clans. We can take inventory of what ye brought with ye, materials and the sort, and that will help us figure out who can work with ye the best. Here we are. This be our quarters here. We can take the time to teach ye more of our culture later if ye like.”

  “I would love to learn more about your culture, thank you,” I said, and Balmur nodded his head in agreement.

  Seemed like the best bet to go with to me. We would have to sit down later and discuss it in greater detail to see what could be learned. Learning more about a group of people like the Dwarves may help us better assimilate into society.

  There was a gate before us that opened into a wide yard of packed earth. Dwarves with battle axes trained there, grunting and yelling battle cries. Most of them had black hair like Brawnwynn, but a few of them had red beards, blond, a couple brown.

  “Well look it here!” shouted one of them. “If ever I saw a sorrier Dwarf, it’d be Brawnwynn and his merry band. Ho there!”

  “Shut yer gullet, you lot. Swing yer ax before I ring yer necks and show ye how a real Dwarf swings it!” They all laughed heartily and got back to their training. The buildings, like the people, were stoutly built and sturdy, made wholly of stone and artful but functional masonry. There were more than a dozen buildings with similar training grounds in front of them.

  “Wow, that’s a lot of buildings,” Balmur observed. “What’s the purpose of the Mugfist Clan?”

  “We drink and get all the prettiest lasses,” shouted Brawnwynn, to which every Dwarf in earshot shouted something to the effect of an affirmative, “but, to be serious, we are the warriors of the clans—the army, so to say. We prepare for war and send teams into the tunnels to clean out the vermin that come in. We are also to guard the city from the denizens of the Great Below.”

  “You guys have a… what was it? ‘Great Below’ here?” I asked, stopping mid stride. “Shit, of course they do, there are Drow Elves and Dark Dwarves. Deep Gnomes.”

  “What’re ye mumblin’, fox?”

  “Nothing important,” I said. “Do they venture this far up often?”

  “Not for a while they haven’t and never for long,” the Dwarf growled proudly. “They don’t last long when we bear down on ‘em.”

  “I’m sure they don’t.” Balmur laughed.

  My adrenaline spiked a bit as I went over what I knew about the information presented from previous knowledge. The places below the surface were rough places from all the books and games that I had ever read concerning them. Everything that mentioned it made the place out to be a den of the most evil, vile, and cunning villains to plague that world. Doesn’t mean they were the only ones, but still. I didn’t want to fuck with them. Not if I didn’t have to.

  We went into a larger building toward the center of the compound; it had to be where the big wigs hung out because it made the most sense. All those bodies between them and any potential threats. It’s what I would do.

  We were left in a large receiving room for about half an hour. A pretty Dwarf woman brought us some ale and water. Her rosy cheeks had dimples, and her chocolate brown eyes shone with mirth and laughter. She said her name was Roslyn and that if we needed anything to shout and she’d come a scootin’.

  Brawnwynn came back in, followed by someone who looked like an older version of him, though broader in the chest and shoulders, and his beard was long and plated with metal beads to keep it neat. He had stern eyes and a scar that bisected his milky left eye.

  He scanned the group of us until his eye fell on Jaken. He motioned with his hand for the Fae-Orc to stand before him. Our friend stepped in front of him and looked down at him with a blank face. I heard several breaths other than my own catch slightly. My hand fell to my side, and I saw Yohsuke’s drop to the hilt of his weapon at the same time.

  “Jaken?” the older Dwarf asked softly. His deep voice sounded like two stones grinding against each other. It was impressive.

  “Yes, sir,” the Paladin answered.

  The smaller man reached over and grabbed a sturdy chair from the wall to his right side and stepped onto it so he could look the taller man in the eye. He considered him for a moment, lifted the taller man’s beefy arms like he was some kind of show animal, then pulled him into a headlock.

  “Was it like this Brawny-boy?”

  “Aye.”

  “Good with an ax? No, well that be unfortunate. Good on you, Jaken!” The Dwarf laughed as he let the other man go. “Welcome to the clan, son.”

  All of us let out the breath that we had been holding. Yohsuke let his astral blade dispel and put up his adaptor. I hadn’t even seen him summon the blade. Must have been pretty worried.

  “Friends of the clan!” the Dwarf greeted all of us. His smile was unabashed and infectious. “Cousin!”

  The burly man hopped off the chair and did the seemingly traditional headbutt with Balmur.

  He shook all of our hands in turn.

  “Fox?” he questioned as he stopped at me.

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “Friend of the clan,” he corrected. “What is your name?”

  “Zekiel, sir,” I said, “and yours?”

  “Blast my manners,” he said as he waved his hand in front of his furiously. “I am Farnik, leader of the Mugfist Clan.”

  “Father, yer so much more than simply our leader,” Brawnwynn said in exasperation. “This is Farnik the Brave. He led our army himself against the largest invasion force the Drow Elves sent forth in four hundred years.

  “He slew three Driders, Drow Elves with the lower body of giant spiders, who were guarding a Priestess of the Spider Queen. Then he brought the priestess low, too. All. On. His. Own.”

  “You exaggerate, boy,” growled Farnik.

  “I saw it all, you forget.”

  I had to admit, I was thoroughly impressed. These were creatures that I was familiar with from the games I had played and the lore I knew. Looking around, I might have to explain some of it to my friends.

  “It’s late, and a feast has been prepared in your honor. We would have you join us and tell us of your glories. Please?” asked Farnik, a little hopeful.

  “I’m down,” Bokaj said.

  “Sweet, I’m in,” agreed Jaken.

  The rest of us opted to join in, and we spent the night recounting our adventures for the clan. Much to the delight of the party, with Farnik’s blessing, Jaken was treated just like any other Dwarf. Soon after the food was gone came the heavier ales and meads, hearty laughter, and song.

  It was a
good night.

  * * *

  The following morning we brought a detailed list of the materials we had with us to the dining hall and enjoyed a rowdy breakfast with the Dwarves. These guys went ham on breakfast. There wasn’t an empty plate, and the food didn’t last long so we had to eat quickly. More than a few of the Dwarves started conversations with Balmur about the smithing in the fire plane and wondered how he was at arms. The Rogue told them his class and preferences, and they nodded in respect to his choice. A few saying that he at least used axes.

  From our host’s perspective, the materials we had were of decent enough quality and he sent out messengers to two clans close to the forges.

  “Why not just have us go to them?” I asked.

  “Because there are hundreds of smiths here in Djurnforge,” Farnik said. “To visit all of them would take months, maybe years if they decide to bluster at you and try to con you into letting them do the job. This way, we already know the capabilities of the smith you need, and we have narrowed it down to a couple of the clans in good standing with us who might help you, especially with materials as rare as your Lightning materials.”

  I had forgotten about those until this morning when we inventoried our stuff. We still had all the lightning materials, twenty five pounds of mithral, one hundred pounds of iron ore, and assorted gems.

  “With those things in mind, the two we sent for will be a good fit, I should think. They may even compete for the contract to make your weapons and armor. Though that may not happen. Representatives will get here, sooner or later. While we wait, please Jaken, go visit your new family. Zekiel, stay with me a moment, please.”

  Yohsuke made to stay with me, but I nodded at him to let him know it was cool. I knew he would stand outside the door.

  “My son told me what he said to you in passing,” the Dwarf began. “I would apologize on his behalf. I won’t say, however, that his thoughts were wrong. Now, afore you get offended, hear me out.”