by Steve McHugh
The dwarf perched on top of William’s head until the monster pitched forward, then leapt off and landed softly on the ground, rolling to his feet and walking toward me as if nothing had happened.
He said something I didn’t understand.
“I don’t speak enough dwarvish to be able to communicate with him,” I said, hoping one of the other dwarves might know one of the earth-realm languages. “Last time I was here, I had a translator. I know a bit, but not enough to converse.”
The dwarf chuckled, grabbed hold of my hand and shook it before saying something else I didn’t quite catch.
“He said ‘pleased to meet you,’” Mordred told me before replying to the dwarf, who laughed.
“I told him that we were pleased to have his help.”
One of the other dwarves left the group, returning a few minutes later with a grave expression on his face.
“Can you translate?” I asked Mordred, who nodded.
“Balithis is dead,” the returning dwarf said. “Crushed by rubble.”
“She was a good warrior and friend,” the dwarf who’d shaken my hand said.
“Can you say we’re sorry for his loss?” I asked Mordred, who nodded and relayed my words before telling me what the dwarf said.
“Thank you for your kindness, but she was old, and sick. This was to be her last battle. If she was going to die here, she’d be glad to know she played a part in bringing down that beast. The name is Zamek Merla. We’re going back to camp. You’re more than welcome to join us.”
“Thank you,” I told him. “I’m Nate. That’s Kasey and this is—”
Mordred gave him a name that certainly wasn’t his.
“Let’s get going then. We’ve got a funeral to arrange, and we need to be out of here before anyone comes looking for their friend. Besides, we’ve got more of you tall buggers back at the stronghold. They arrived not too long ago. I’ve no doubt you know them.”
“Hopefully it’s Chloe and the rest of the group,” Kasey said once Mordred had finished translating.
“You want to tell me why you lied about your name?” I asked Mordred after we’d started following the dwarves. One carried his dead friend over his shoulder.
“Not really,” he told me. “But let’s just get to the stronghold before I make things a lot more complicated.”
Excellent, because things weren’t shitty enough.
CHAPTER 20
No one bothered us on our way to the dwarven stronghold, although the dwarves stuck to the side streets and more than once changed direction to avoid large bands of blood elves. As the dwarves told it, they were quite happy to kill as many elves as they could, but there weren’t enough of them to start doing anything reckless.
It was a fairly short walk, maybe a mile at the most, before we reached two massive doors, each one twenty feet high and equally as wide. The doors sat in the middle of a large wall that stretched from each side of the mountain—about three hundred feet. The wall was fifty feet tall, with a gap at the apex separating it from the mountain above. A host of runes had been carved into the dark stone in various places, several just around the door. I didn’t want to find out what they did.
Zamek placed his hand on the side of the door and spoke softly. Several of the runes ignited in silver and gold, and a few heartbeats passed before there was an almighty noise from behind the doors. Zamek motioned for us to take a step back, and we avoided the slow, but unstoppable swing of the doors as they opened.
“Welcome to the stronghold,” Mordred translated for Zamek. “Welcome to Sanctuary.”
Zamek spoke to the dwarf who was carrying the body of their friend, and they shook hands. Zamek waited while the other dwarves entered the city before he entered last, nodding to and saluting those who greeted them.
The dwarf carrying the body stopped and bowed his head in front of someone before lowering the body to the ground. Several dwarves around him wept openly.
“They are her family,” Mordred translated, and it took me a moment to realize that Zamek had even spoken.
“If you want to go and speak to them, we can wait,” I told him as he ushered us into Sanctuary, the huge doors closing behind us with a thud that made the air flow over me.
Zamek shook his head. “Later. First, they grieve. They don’t want to talk to me right now; it is not proper for a commander to see a family in the midst of grief, just as it’s not proper for the family to see the commander grieve. Once I have spent some time reflecting on her passing, I will go to them. Before the feast tonight, before we celebrate her life. It will be an event you are more than welcome to join.”
I bowed my head in thanks.
“But first, we need you to see the elders. They’re going to want to know why more of your kind—outsiders—are here. And it would probably be wise for you to learn the language. I’ll see if the rune scribes can be made ready. Seeing them would make your time here much easier.”
“You can put a rune on me that will make me understand the language?” Kasey asked, slightly awed. “That would have made every single foreign language lesson at school a lot easier.”
Zamek laughed once Mordred had finished translating.
“The elders will explain better than I can. I’m just a warrior.” He turned to face Kasey. “And you are wolf-kin. I have not seen one of your kind since we closed our borders. I assume your kind hasn’t evolved the ability to freeze things with their mouths?”
Kasey chuckled and shook her head.
“Then you have been given a rare gift. Although I’d keep it to yourself while you’re here. Wolf-kin are welcome; elementals are not so warmly met. They bypass the natural magic dampeners of this realm. Personally, I’m glad you’re on our side, but not everyone will be so accommodating.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
“No problem, wolf—sorry, Kasey. Let’s get you to the council chambers. You can meet the other tall ones, and a short hairy one who won’t shut up.”
“Remy,” Kasey and I said at the same time.
We followed Zamek through Sanctuary, and found that it was much larger than I’d been expecting. Just finding out from William that there were still dwarves in the city had been a revelation, but to see the city was astonishing. People went about their lives close to an army of creatures who would like nothing more than to kill them all. That kind of proximity to an enemy for so long would make the dwarves tough. Those who lived here were not to be underestimated.
“Just after the main gate is the processing area,” he said as we walked over a small bridge under which ran a stream. “Lots of people get clogged up there mostly because they’re waiting to go out on a mission. The only reason Balithis’s family were there was because they knew it was to be her last quest. She was sixteen hundred years old—not ancient by our standards, but getting there, certainly. She’d have been given a nice job training or some such if she’d have made it back. We can always use good trainers, although it’s not the way a warrior wants to go.
“This is the first of six residential areas. They’re spread out all over the . . . well, I guess it’s a city, although I’ve rarely sat down to think about how much it has grown. In between each residential area are different sections for different crafts, be they weapon-making, armor, artistry, combat, and the like. At the rear of the city is the council, and beyond that are the dwellers.”
“‘The dwellers?’” I asked.
“Those who live inside the tunnels, always mining, always making more room and finding us more materials. This place was always on the list of places to mine before . . . before . . . before the world fell. We’ve been digging there since most of my kin left.”
“What happened here?” Kasey asked.
“That’s best left to the elders to explain. My feelings about it go against the grain. Mostly I’d like to find the dwarves that betrayed us and tear their heads off.” Zamek stopped walking. “Forget I said that last bit. I get into enough arguments with the council as it is.”
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He continued walking, although his pace had increased, as if he realized he’d continue to say unpopular things the longer he was with us.
“You should know something. The dwarves have been here for a long time. We’ve been trying to fight the elves, taking pieces of them where we can. Until they found some of the spirit scrolls, and then it all went to shit. But we still go out there and cause trouble. Unfortunately, there are not enough of us left to mount much of an offense.”
“Why do you stay, then?” I asked.
“Lots of reasons. Some will say because we have the library. We took a lot of the interesting stuff when we found ourselves stuck out here, but we have to keep it safe. Others will tell you we stay out of pride, or anger, or hate, or because we’re stubborn buggers. Most will say we stay because this is our home, and we want one day to take it back. I tend to believe it’s a mix of it all. Like I said, I’m just a warrior. My days of ever being more are long gone.”
There was no resentment or anger in his voice as he stated the last sentence. He’d seemingly accepted his new role from whatever he used to be. And after seeing him in combat, I was pretty certain that a lot of people were very happy that Zamek was fighting for them.
The tour continued unabated with Zamek showing us various interesting buildings, or saying hello to the dwarves we passed. If nothing else, he appeared to be popular among his people.
We reached a sizable building with a large garden growing in front of it. It was the first time I’d seen flowers since I’d entered the mountain. The patch of garden stretched for as long as I could see, curving around toward the rear of the building.
“We grow food here,” Zamek explained. “Most of what we grow doesn’t require natural sunlight, but those plants that do are helped by the crystals above.”
I stared up at the multitude of crystals in the ceiling high above us. If it weren’t for the hordes of blood elves and other monsters trying to kill us, this might have been a place I’d liked to have stayed longer. But being hunted by murderous bastards tends to put a damper on relaxation and sightseeing.
Thoughts of relaxation came to an even more abrupt end when I heard someone shout to Zamek. I turned to watch as Zamek walked over to a nearby building, slightly away from the gardens, where the newcomer had exited. The two dwarves got into a heated debate.
“What’s happening?” Kasey asked.
Mordred listened for a few more seconds before answering. “It appears the newcomer is unhappy at our presence. He’s also unhappy at Zamek’s presence. And generally appears to be a very pissed-off dwarf. They’re talking too fast; I can’t keep up with what they’re saying.”
The argument got more and more intense until several guards stepped between the two, separating them. The newcomer stormed off, waving his hands, while Zamek returned to us.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you all to the main chamber.”
He offered no explanation for the argument with the other dwarf, and we probably wouldn’t have gotten one even if we’d asked.
Zamek led us to a pair of guards, who nodded a greeting and pushed open the door, while a third stood to one side, watching us intently.
The building inside was no different to any other building or structure I’d seen since arriving in the realm, except that it wasn’t covered in dust. The style and architecture was the same, and suggested that the dwarves preferred to make their buildings impressive, no matter who occupied it. Pillars sat every few feet, each one carved with intricate line work. Several of the carvings depicted scenes of battle, and I wanted to spend more time walking around each of the dozens we passed, studying the details. The dwarves might have fled from their homes and made Sanctuary out of necessity, but they’d made it their own, and all appearances suggested they continued to live on their terms. There were also dozens of guards in the massive building, each of them wearing dwarven armor dyed red and gold.
We entered an expansive hall with doors spaced along one wall every few feet. The balcony above suggested even more rooms. Eventually Zamek stopped outside a pair of black and silver doors flanked by four guards. He spoke to the dwarf I assumed was in charge, and they nodded and pushed open the door, revealing some sort of meeting chamber inside.
A rectangular table made of gleaming rock sat in the middle of the room, running almost its entire length. Chairs lined up all around the table, with the largest at one end on a raised portion of floor. The dwarven woman occupying it got down from the chair and walked over to Zamek, embracing him.
“You are from the earth realm,” she said in perfect English. She was considerably thinner than Zamek, her face gaunt, and looked much older. She wore her black hair tied up on top her head with a red ribbon, and several bangles of different colors adorned her wrists.
I introduced myself and Kasey, but the dwarf looked at Mordred before I could say his name.
“Mordred of Camelot,” she said.
Mordred blinked. “A long time ago. Now, just Mordred.”
“You were imprisoned here, long ago, for a crime you did not commit. No apology was ever given, no reason ever explained. It has been long overdue, but I apologize for what you went through. Unfortunately, your jailers are no longer with us, but if there is anything that I can do to make up for the wickedness you went through, I will be happy to do it. That is as close to justice as I can give you.”
Mordred blinked. “I . . .” He stopped and bowed his head. “Thank you. Would it be okay if I left the room for a while? I need some air.”
The dwarf placed her hand on Mordred’s shoulder. “Go. You have the freedom of the city.”
“I was informed that, at one time, he was a great evil,” she said after Mordred had hurried from the room, “but I sense no evil in him now. Before you ask, his tale of what happened to him here is not for me to tell.”
“You can sense these things?” I asked, a little curious. I’d never heard about dwarves being able to do such things, but it felt good to know that my assumption of Mordred was right. No evil. Those two words made me smile.
“Part empath,” she said with a smile. “My mother was an empath: very rare among dwarves, and not highly regarded. It’s not widely discussed, either. A dwarf without the ability to do dwarven things like create? It’s not exactly accepted as the norm. Dwarves are many things, Mr. Garrett, but most of all, they are slow to change. Presumably because most of them spend all day with rocks and crystals, which aren’t well known for their forward-thinking properties. To many, a dwarf who can’t create, can’t mold things to a whim, isn’t much of a dwarf, no matter how well they carry a sword, or bloody the nose of everyone who mocks them. My mother was not one to let her lack of alchemy get in the way of beating the shit out of anyone who mocked her.”
She turned to Zamek. “Can you bring the others who were found here? I believe these two would like to be reunited with their friends.”
Zamek bowed, and nodded in my direction before leaving.
“I should introduce myself. It’s a great oversight that I haven’t already done so. I’ve had to do it more in the last few days than in several hundred years, so you’ll have to excuse me and my poor manners. I am Jinayca Konal, lead elder of Sanctuary.”
“Thank you for having us here.”
“Nathaniel Garrett?” she asked, squinting her eyes slightly. “I recognize that name. You’ve been here before.”
“A long time ago, as a young man.”
She stared at me for a few seconds. “Yes, that must be it. I remember names of those who aren’t dwarven. It’s why no one wants to try and replace me; I doubt they’d have as much joy remembering those blood-elf bastards.”
“What are they?” I asked.
Jinayca waved me away. “Explanations all in time. First, we will have to convene an elder meet. That will take a few hours, and then we can discuss how we’re going to get you all home. Tonight will be a feast for Balithis; after that few will be in a position to discuss anything much
. Best to get it all resolved before then.” She opened the door and bellowed, “Get the other elders here! Now!”
I smiled. Jinayca was not what I’d been expecting from a dwarven elder. I’d thought of someone more suited to pondering, and stuffy. I got the feeling that Jinayca could be a formidable political opponent—and probably not someone to cross.
“That’ll take a good bit of time,” she said as she closed the door. “When your friends arrive, we’ll arrange for the rune scribes to put you through the machine.”
“That sounds ominous,” Kasey pointed out.
“Oh, it’s nothing awful. It just puts runes on people. It’ll let you both understand and speak the language. Your friends all went through it, or are in the process of, depending on when they arrived.”
“Do you know their names?” I asked, hopeful that those who’d arrived were the missing members of our group.
“Diane, and a few I don’t know. It was nice seeing Diane again. I remember hunting the forest above with her. She was always an interesting woman. She was keen to find you; they all were. Unfortunately, that’s where the good news ends. Your witch friend, Chloe: she’s not well.”
“She was poisoned,” I told her, worried about what had happened to Chloe. “It looks like the venom belonged to a monster by the name of Asag. I’ve had the same venom in my blood. I’d hoped with rest it would’ve dissipated.”
Jinayca shook her head. “Chloe is currently undergoing tests, but she’s getting worse, not better. We’ll take you to her once you’ve all seen the rune scribe.”
“I need to see her now,” Kasey demanded.
“I know you feel like that. I’d be the same in your shoes. But you need to wait. She’s currently being tended to by the finest physicians we have. You can’t do anything for her while that’s going on. And if you don’t speak the language, you won’t understand a thing they tell you. Very few people here speak anything other than dwarvish; maybe some elvish. Until then, you’ll just be in the way of people trying to do their jobs.”
Kasey didn’t look happy about it, but she nodded curtly in response.