The Hammer of Fire

by Tom Liberman

  “You make too much of him. He’s got a tough hide and he knows how to use a weapon, I’ll give you that but there are four of us. Besides, he’ll probably have the little halfling girl with him. You’d like interrogating her, wouldn’t you?”

  “But,” repeated Blaggard with another glance up at his companion and his eyes narrowed into a calculating squint, “it’s Dol. He’ll break you in half and do the same to me. I want double the pay or I’m leaving right now.”

  “There are four of us and we’ll be taking them by surprise,” insisted Cleathelm although the certainty in his voice faded as he looked across the alcove to his companions.

  The little half-breed stared at him with unblinking eyes that glowed yellow in the dark room.

  “Stop worrying or I’ll pummel you and question them myself,” Cleathelm snarled, but Blaggard continued to stare at him and move his head in little back and forth motions. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that I’ll break your face right now. We can take him and his friends no problem. If he scares you so much then just stay up here and hide while we take care of business.”

  “Ok,” said Blaggard, crossing his arms in front of his knees, curling up into a smaller little ball, and ducking his head down.

  “Damn you,” said Cleathelm. “We need you to do the talking; you’re clever with the knife. Fine, I’ll give you double what we agreed but that’s it, no more. Agreed?”

  The little goblin restrained his smile, put his hand to his chin as if to think about it a little longer, and then nodded his head slowly, “I agree but that means the half you paid me up front is not enough. Give me half of the new price.”

  “I didn’t bring enough to pay you that much,” said Cleathelm and unconsciously moved his hand towards the purse full of coins at his side, “you greedy little bastard.”

  “A dwarf calling a goblin greedy?” said Braggard with a smile, “That’s the rat calling the vulture disgusting.”

  “What?” said Cleathelm. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Braggard blinked his eyes once, started to open his mouth, but then thought better of it, “Never mind, just give me what you’ve got and we’ll figure the rest out after.”

  “Fine,” grumbled the dwarf, and began to shift around in the little alcove to retrieve the coin pouch from his belt but succeeded only in almost kicking his axe over the side. He managed to grab it with a quick stab, “Damn it,” he said, “squeeze over and give me some room. I can’t get at my coins.”

  “I can see it,” said Braggard reaching forward with grasping little hands, the nails dirty and bitten down to almost the nub. “Let me do it for you.”

  Cleathelm slapped away the little goblin’s hand with a violent motion, “Get your filthy paws away from my coin, you little rotter.”

  “Could it be there’s more in there they you let on,” said the goblin with a grin as he snatched his hand back and away from the dwarf. “Nasty, lying little dwarf.”

  “Go piss yourself,” said Cleathelm in a loud voice, and shoved the little goblin into the corner, struggled to his feet, banged his head against the top of the alcove, and cursed loudly. After a bit he tugged his coin purse from his side and spilled out a few gold coins although it was clear the bag held far more of the metal pieces. “There you go you little blood sucking leech. All you goblins are the same. I don’t know why we tolerate you darkling types in Craggen Steep. The place should be kept for pure-blooded dwarves. The rest of you taint the place.” He tried to kick Braggard but in the tight confines almost lost his balance and plunged over the edge. He managed to catch himself at the last moment and sat back down with a thump.

  Braggard examined the gold coins; on one side was a two-headed axe while the obverse showed a dwarf carrying a tower shield emblazoned with the symbol of a heavy hammer. “Good coins you dwarves make,” he said. “The gold is fine quality and the weight true. I’ve heard you make platinum coins as well and fine quality gemstones cut by masters.”

  “Shut your yap,” said Cleathelm. “You’ll get no more from me, no gold, no conversation, no friendship. You do your job and we go our separate ways. Count yourself lucky I don’t report you to the High Council and have the guards finish you once and for all. I could do it you know, my father is on the Council.”

  “Awww, don’t be like that,” said Braggard although it was everything he could manage to keep the chuckle out of his tone. “We can do business in the future. You can’t blame a goblin for negotiating a fair price.”

  “Just shut up and wait,” said Cleathelm and leaned back into the alcove so that his back rested against the rear wall. “Keep a sharp eye out.”

  The next few hours passed in abject silence as the two shifted in place now and again, and stretched their arms and legs to keep the blood circulating. Eventually a loud whisper came from across the way, “Cleathelm?”

  “Be quiet over there,” whispered back the dwarf although he used the opportunity to climb to his feet and lean out a bit.

  “Watch your clodhoppers,” said Braggard, pulling his hand out of the way at the last moment.

  “What?” came another, louder whisper from across the room.

  “I said be quiet,” said Cleathelm in a louder voice.

  “What?” came the reply.

  “For the love of Davim, I said be quiet,” shouted Cleathelm across the divide. “We’re trying to catch Delius and the others red-handed. If you keep shouting what chance is there of that?”

  “I don’t think they’re coming,” yelled the voice in a loud tone that carried easily across the room and seemed to echo in the workshop. “I’m getting cramps and I’m hungry. Did you bring any food?”

  “Yeah, I’m hungry too,” said another voice from across the way. “I didn’t think we’d be stuck up here for hours. You said they’d come first thing, Cleathelm.”

  “Will all of you just shut up!” shouted Cleathelm as he shifted back in the forth in the small alcove unable to pace effectively. “Will you give me some room,” he said and glared down at the little goblin who was curled up into the corner like a mouse hiding from the cats.

  “I don’t think they’re coming,” said the little half-breed from his position and shrugged his shoulders.

  “They’ll come, this is their only chance to get the hammer.”

  “Maybe they don’t want the hammer,” said Blaggard, looked up from his curled position, and managing to sidle slightly away from the ready elbow that the dwarf brandished.

  “They want the damn hammer,” repeated Cleathelm. “I overheard Fierfelm talking about it. He made some stupid promise to the old First Edos. It’s all arranged.”

  “What if they changed their minds?” said the half-breed in a low tone and tried to scoot even further away from Cleathelm. “What if the First Edos was playing a trick on you?”

  “I’m getting thirsty,” rang out a voice from across the hall.

  “Fine,” shouted back Cleathelm and gave off a loud blast of breath, “climb down and get some food and drink for all of us. We might be here all night.”

  This proclamation elicited groans and murmurs of protestation but eventually a heavily armed dwarf, wearing thick chain mail with a war axe strapped to his side, started to climb down from the opposite alcove although his axe slipped out of belt and clattered to the ground with a loud bang.

  “For the love of Davim,” shouted Cleathelm, “will you keep it down, morons!”

  It took the short legged dwarf another a few seconds to scramble down the side of the wall and then more time yet to gather his weapon, “Sorry about that.”

  After the squat little dwarf wandered off another voice came shouting across the divide, “I have to pee.”

  The half-breed goblin next to Cleathelm laughed until a well-placed elbow dug into his ribs, but even then he couldn’t help but snicker now and again as they awaited the return of their food.

  Chapter 5

  Milli sat in the narrow confines of her little room,
although quite spacious compared to the quarters of the young apprentices, and looked at the frayed and faded gold paint that edged the woodwork trim around the base of her door and sighed deeply. She knew every detail of the room that served as her residence from a time before she could remember. She knew, by heart, the story of how a caravan of dwarf iron traders found her in the smoke filled ruin of her village after an attack by raiders. She’d heard it so often now that when she saw one of the elders giving her that look and the self-satisfied grin that came with it she knew exactly what was coming. Now that she was old enough to recognize the signs she generally fled to the room they gave her all those years ago and waited a few hours. She knew every nook and cranny of the place from the faded gold paint - these dwarves loved their gold - to the smooth marble floors where she broke her nose in a fall as a young girl. The older she got the more male dwarves, both young and old, liked to grab her by the arm and tell her stories about how grateful she should be to have a home here in Craggen Steep, the hidden citadel; how only a few non-dwarves ever lived inside the city in its long, rich history; how she could never go to the outside world where she might betray the secret of its location.

  After a bit more staring she went over to a little cherry wood table in the corner of the room that was at just the right height for her to sit and write. It was a gift from a dwarf for her tenth birthday and she ran her finger over the initials carved into the top surface. Wood was a rarity here in Craggen Steep where metal or stone furniture was the norm. She opened a leather bound booklet and flipped through the pages, stopping now and again to read a passage, as a little smile came to her face and the hint of a tear to her eye. “I don’t want to leave but I can’t stand to stay anymore,” she said out-loud just as a firm thump came from the heavy stone door to her right. “Who is it?” she said wearily without looking up from the diary. It was certainly one of the dozen of higher class dwarf suitors that plagued her these days in ever increasing numbers. Of course, they didn’t want wives, no, that would be scandalous as their children would be half-breeds. Pretty mistresses they could shower with gifts and affection was more to their taste.

  “The First Edos,” said a gruff voice and Milli’s eyes suddenly opened wide and she scanned the room quickly, her head moving back and forth.

  “I’ll be right there,” she said, and immediately darted over to her bed, grabbed some of her underthings, looked around, and then stashed them under the mattress. She glanced around the room a second time, took a step towards the door, then went back over to the desk and shut the dairy, before finally moving to the heavy stone door and opening it with only the slightest pull. “Hello?” she said to the elderly dwarf who stood at the door. Her eyes bulged when she saw the platinum bands, gem encrusted, that served as beard holders and she couldn’t help but give out a little gasp and unconsciously curtseyed. “I … I wasn’t expecting anyone and especially not you, First Edos.”

  “I know, I know, dear,” said the dwarf, bowing down just a little so his long beard gently grazed the ground. “Might I come in and talk for a bit?”

  Milli’s eyes opened wide and she bobbed her head up and down, “Of course, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, please, come in,” she said with a wave of her arms as she stood back from the door. “It’s not very roomy, I’m sure you’re used to better, um, would you like some coffee?”

  “That would be very nice,” said Fierfelm as he shuffled into the room and took a seat on a small chair in the corner, “you don’t have any pastries by chance? I’ve taken to eating them more and more over the years and I know how you little halflings love to bake.”

  Milli shook her head, “I … no, sir, First Edos, I … I can run out and get some, there’s a pastry shop not far from here.”

  “No, no, that’s all right dear, it’s just that I’ve grown fond of sweets in my old age, and now, with things the way they are, you never know where your last meal is coming from,” he uttered this last proclamation and sat down with a thump on the sofa near the kitchen. It was made of solid rock although thick cotton stuffed cushions softened the blow and a number of throw pillows, embroidered with pink and yellow hammers, tongs, and bellows, made it more comfortable. “Ahh,” he said, “this is quite nice indeed. So, where is the hidden door to the rest of it?” he asked as he peered around the room with a quizzical expression on his face.

  Milli looked around the room, at least three times the size of the quarters of her friends and shook her head, “No hidden doors, I’m afraid this is all there is.”

  “Oh, I see, I see,” said Fierfelm as he shook his head sadly. “I was an apprentice metal smith once you know, but that was fifty years ago and it’s hard to remember what that sort of life was like after you’ve been away from it for so long. I didn’t mean any harm; you know how we dwarves love hidden chambers, secret doors, puzzle rooms, and the like. I hope you don’t think me rude?”

  “Oh no, not at all, First Edos, please, I’m quite honored to have you visit me,” she continued and then hustled over to her little stove, put a kettle on it with an easy motion, and fumbled through several cabinets before she found a tin filled with coffee beans, “It’s only local grade, from the foothills of the mountain,” she said with a small shrug of her shoulders. “I’m sure you’re used to better.”

  “It’ll be fine, that’s very sweet of you. I’ve heard good things about you over the years you know, and now you’re friends with young Delius, yes?”

  “You’ve heard of me?” said Milli and stopped her preparations for a moment as she turned to face the old gray beard. “Really? Me?”

  “My friend Borrombus speaks quite highly of you,” said Fierfelm as looked closely around the small chamber for the first time. “It’s all coming back to me, yes, when I was a young apprentice my room was much smaller than this, but I suspect you’ve seen an apprentice’s chambers. It’s good for them to suffer a bit, now isn’t it? Although I’ve had my differences with the High Council over the matter, suffering is one thing but brutalization is another. We’ve had discussions we have.”

  “Oh, I …,” said Milli with a blush and her hand came to her cheeks which flushed red, “what does he say?”

  “Oh dear, I’ve embarrassed you,” said Fierfelm, stood up, walked over to the girl, and gave her a little pat on the shoulder. “I’m an old fellow and I forget how what other people think is important to you young folk. In any case, we’re all very fond of young Delius but I’m afraid his future with us is rather limited, his breeding you know.”

  “It’s not fair,” started Milli and turned to look at the old dwarf, her yellow eyes now glistening with tears but her voice hard and sparking with anger. “He can’t help who his grandparents were. You’re not from one of the three families, you should know better than anyone.”

  “Oh, I agree completely, it will be the downfall of Craggen Steep in the end,” said Fierfelm as he looked around the little room. “Now, where do you keep the cups and saucers?”

  “Over there,” said the halfling girl pointing to a cupboard near the sink, “but I’m afraid they won’t be the fancy kind you’re used to.”

  “Quite all right, quite all right indeed. Frankly, all that gold doesn’t make for a hot cup of coffee, I prefer a clay mug anytime and not near as heavy. The older I get the more I treasure the simple things. Did you know as a boy, me and the other apprentices used to roast the crusty ends of week old bread for our coffee and drink it from tin water cups.”

  “No!” said Milli her eyes somehow gettingeven wider yet, “you?”

  “Indeed, indeed, that was before old Udor picked me out as the most promising apprentice. I didn’t realize it at the time but he was taking a big risk. There were plenty of Blackirons and Firefists who wanted their sons and nephews for the position but Udor wasn’t one for ceremony, he was a metal-smith of the best sort.”

  “Udor made the Hammer of Fire,” said Milli in a whisper as she looked around the room at the embroidery on the couch, t
he paintings on the wall, all pink and yellow but not of flowers; they showed hammers, anvils, weapons of war; that was the life of a dwarf in Craggen Steep and that was her life. She’d first heard of the great Hammer of Fire long before she ever got to see the First Edos’s workshop. It was only later, when she became a young woman that handsome young dwarves on the fast path to success in Craggen Steep began to call and take her to places like that.

  “Oh yes, yes indeed, he put it together from the Staff of Faelom and the great hammer head Kanoner. Now all of those traditionalists say he didn’t make the thing because he merely wedded the two parts but don’t you listen to them. He made the hammer and I watched him do it. He wouldn’t let anyone else into the Deep Forge for a year, he used the Silk Anvil of Rowena, indeed he did. It was the last thing he forged before they removed him from power, just like they’re going to remove me.”

  “The Silk Anvil, what’s that?”

  “Oh dear, yes, well, I travel in such lofty circles I forget that some things are secret. Never you mind dearie, it’s just something from a long time ago.”

  “Oh,” said Milli just as the kettle began to boil. “Oh no, that’s the water, here, sit down and I’ll get everything ready. Do you take sugar, cream?”

  “You don’t have any peppermint by any chance, do you?”

  Milli’s green eyes again grew wide at the mention of the incredibly costly treat, “Oh, I’m sorry, no, I’ve never had … that is to say I’ve heard of it … is it good with coffee?”

  “An acquired taste, but don’t let it bother you, just let’s you and I have a little talk, yes, cream is fine, a little sugar as well, not quite peppermint. One does get used to the trappings of power, doesn’t one?”

  Milli blinked rapidly for a moment and said under her breath, “I guess?”