“Grandfather? You’re his grandfather?” Venk kept shifting his gaze from the tiny wizened being to his friend kneeling on the ground. His gaze finally settled on Breslin. “You never mentioned your grandfather was also searching for Nar!”
“That’s because I didn’t know,” Breslin clarified as he slowly regained his feet. He turned to his grandfather and bowed once more. “Grandfather, may I present my companions? Over there in the black armor is Athos. In the red armor is his brother, Venk. The underling is Venk’s son, Lukas. On my right is Tristofer, of the Kla Rehn, who has been assisting us. My friends, I’d like you to meet my grandfather, Kasnar.”
After the introductions were over, Venk approached the old dwarf and bowed.
“Did you send the Questor’s Mark?”
Kasnar smiled and nodded.
“Aye. Pleased, I am, to see that you understood it for what it was.”
Venk pointed at Tristofer. “Only because of him. I thought it was just a burn on my son’s back.”
At this, Kasnar cocked his head and stared at Venk. Slowly, he turned his head so that he was staring straight at Lukas.
“Are you telling me your son bore the Questor’s Mark?”
“Bore? You mean bear. Aye. He still has it.”
Kasnar shook his head. “Impossible. The mark served only to bring the bearer here.”
Venk beckoned Lukas to come over.
“I just looked at it less than an hour ago. Trust me, it’s there.”
“Indeed? Can you show me?”
Knowing what was coming, Lukas pulled up his shirt and exposed his back to the old man. Kasnar smiled and nodded.
“Just as I thought. There’s nothing there.”
“What?” Venk sputtered. He spun his son around so that he could see for himself. Sure enough, the mark was gone. Lukas’ back was as bare as the day he was born.
“It’s gone!”
“Of course it’s gone,” Kasnar scolded. “You accomplished your mission, therefore the quest was completed. No more mark.”
Smiling profusely, all anger forgotten, Venk stepped back a few steps and pulled his son back with him.
“Argumentative comments withdrawn.”
Kasnar looked over at his grandson and caught his eye. “Why did the underling have the mark? How did your father manage to avoid receiving it? I spent years crafting that spell. Years! And now you’re telling me that I didn’t even get it to the right person?”
Everyone in the room nodded, including Lukas.
“Is that why it took so long for you five to make it here? I activated my spell, what, about six months ago? It’s starting to make sense now.”
“What does?” Breslin asked.
“To think that I actually second guessed myself,” Kasnar angrily exclaimed. He painfully climbed back up into the oversized chair. Sighing heavily, he scooted back so that his aching bones were resting against the hard wood. He eyed Lukas for a few moments before he finally smiled. “How long did it take for you to realize what was on your back, young master… master… I apologize lad. What was your name again?”
Lukas nervously cleared his throat. “Lukas.”
“Ah, yes. Right. Master Lukas. How long did it take to figure out what was on your back?”
Suddenly shy, Lukas looked to his father for help.
“Months,” Venk answered. “It was my fault. I thought it was a burn and it hadn’t healed properly. Seeing how Lukas was never in any pain, I never explored further. It was only when Lukas was burned by a drop of molten silver did we learn of its nature. That’s when the healer saw his back, asked a few questions, and then let the matter drop.”
“Let the matter drop?” Kasnar sharply asked, frowning.
“I wasn’t concerned and neither was he. Somehow, and I don’t know how, word got to your son, Maelnar, who wanted to see Lukas and ask him why he had a Narian hammer on his back.”
“I thought that was the best part,” Kasnar confided. “I thought for certain that my son would take one look at the hammer, the only legible part of the mark, and instantly know the message was for him. I never dreamed the mark would be given to another in his stead.”
“Maelnar would have known the mark was intended for him?” Tristofer asked. “How?”
“Because he’s part Narian, too,” Kasnar answered. “Every descendant of Nar has the letters ‘nar’ somewhere in their name. First name, given name, or sometimes nickname, but almost always in the first name.”
Athos gave Breslin a friendly nudge in the ribs. “You knew that, right?”
“I remember my father telling me that at some point, aye.”
“How long have you been here?” Venk wanted to know as he glanced around the sparsely furnished room.
“More years than I can count,” Kasnar admitted. His eyes had suddenly attached themselves to his grandson’s belt. He had spotted the power hammer.
Breslin, correctly guessing what his grandfather was staring at, eased the hammer out of the belt loop and held it out, handle first. A gnarled, arthritic hand gently closed upon the handle and gripped it tightly. The ruby on the hammer head glowed brightly, as if sensing the excitement emanating from the elder Narian descendant.
“It’s heavy,” Venk warned. “Be careful.”
Kasnar lifted the hammer high over his head, as though it weighed no more than a feather.
“Not for us, it isn’t,” Kasnar answered with a coy grin. He tossed the hammer playfully to his left hand, but his heavily arthritic hand was unable to grip the hammer, even as light as it was for him. The hammer spun to the floor and landed with a loud thud.
“I’m not as young as I used to be, I’m afraid.”
Having landed closest to him, Athos bent down and clenched his teeth, being determined to effortlessly lift the hammer just as Breslin and Kasnar had done.
“You’re not fooling anyone, lad,” Kasnar merrily informed Athos as the hammer was returned to him. Several veins were bulging on Athos’ forehead while his face had turned to beet red. “I appreciate the thought, though.”
“Think nothing of it,” Athos managed to wheeze out.
Kasnar noticed Breslin staring at him as though his beard had caught fire.
“What is it, boy? Speak your mind.”
Breslin was silent for another moment or two before he walked over to the closest chair, plopped it down in front of his grandfather, and sat heavily down.
“Grandfather, what are you doing in Nar? How did you come to be here? Who’s been holding you here?”
Kasnar smiled and indicated everyone should take a seat.
“It’s a long story, my boy.”
“Are we in danger?” Breslin suddenly asked, reaching out to take the hammer that Kasnar had set on the chair besides him. “Obviously someone has held you prisoner. Are they due back?”
“He was just here yesterday,” Kasnar answered. “He’s not due to be back for a while.”
“Who?” Breslin demanded. “Who isn’t due to be back in a while?”
“Patience, lad. Patience. Allow me to tell you my story.”
Once upon a time –
Athos snorted in disbelief. Kasnar shot him a glare, cleared his throat, and tried again.
Once upon a time, nearly a full millennia ago, my tale begins. Now that I think about it, it was about the same time the city had finally been found.
Athos whistled. “A thousand years ago? Really?”
Kasnar held up a withered hand and gave him a sweeping gesture. “Think that kind of pillaging out there happened overnight? Now be quiet.”
“Sorry.”
Now, as I was saying, this tale begins nearly a thousand years ago. I had completed my apprenticeship nearly a century prior, and had become a very gifted toymaker.
Athos snickered.
“A toymaker? Hmmmph. Wouldn’t have called that one.”
Venk elbowed his brother
in the gut. Hard.
Ignoring the outburst, Kasnar continued.
I was startled to learn that my skills were becoming well known. Not only was I making toys and trinkets for the children of prominent council members, I found that my services were being requested at other cities. Borahgg was just the beginning. Soon I was filling orders for Graun, Bykram, or any city the six clans laid claim to.
Life was good, lads. My services were in high demand. My toys were selling just as fast as I could make them. What everyone really wanted were my dragons. I’ve been fascinated with dragons for so long I thought what better tribute could there be than small reproductions that could be made to move around of their own accord? Gold, red, blue, black, if a color combination existed, I’ve created it. Blue dragons were my favorite.
Tristofer held up a hand. “Really? We saw a blue dragon a few days ago while we were being carried to Bykram. It was from a distance, mind you, but still a very dark shade of blue.”
Everyone stared silently at the scholar. Tristofer’s cheeks reddened. He closed his mouth and dropped his eyes.
I had just completed a special toy for the daughter of a noble, and was in the process of delivering the gift when –
“What was the gift?” Lukas suddenly asked, breaking Kasnar’s concentration once again.
Startled, Kasnar looked at the boy. “What was that?”
“You said a ‘special toy’. I was wondering what it was you had made.”
“Oh. You’re an underling so I’ll humor you. It was a dancing princess, specifically crafted to resemble her once she attained a marriageable age.”
Lukas nodded and fell silent.
Where was I? Oh, that’s right. The human girl. So, I knew the price the girl’s father paid easily covered my own costs, plus the time and effort to deliver the finished toy to its owner, and I also thought a change of scenery would do me good, so I paid R’Tal a visit. While the girl fussed over the likeness of herself, her father knew his gold had been well spent, so he drew me aside and wanted to know if I had ever done any commissioned work. He wanted to know if I ever made weapons. Naturally, I had. I mean, who amongst us has never made a hammer? It’s the very nature of our kind.
Tristofer’s arm rose meekly into the air.
Kasnar shook his head. “Shocking.”
“He doesn’t even know me and he’s already insulting me,” Tristofer muttered softly.
Overhearing, Athos grunted, but elected to keep quiet.
The human noble wanted a sword, and a special one at that. Seems he had heard that a few of the dwarves were masters of coloring metal. It’s a trick that only a very select few had learned, and how this human knew I was one I was not certain. Regardless of how he knew, he promised me all kinds of riches if I would make a red single-handed blade with a pommel of solid gold. I thought the coloring was odd, but no more so than any of the other unusual requests I had heard in the span of my career.
As I thought back to prior commitments waiting for me back in my workshop, the noble mistook the pause as a sign of refusal, so he began to offer me whatever treasures he had that he thought I might be interested in. After listing off jewels, gilded daggers, and even a set of ruby-encrusted tools, if you can believe that, he finally stumbled upon something that piqued my curiosity. He told me that he had a map of Nar.
Naturally I scoffed at this. If you had a map leading to Nar, I argued, why weren’t you using it to find the city yourself? He told me that he had tried, but the map was either hiding something or else he had incorrectly interpreted it. Either way you looked at it, I was interested, and he knew it. Said he’d give me the map if I made him his sword.
What could I do? If I didn’t agree, then I’d regret it for the rest of my life. I knew this. Sadly, he knew this, too. Therefore, I agreed to the bargain.
After delivering him his sword a month later, he gave me the map. It was an unremarkable thing. Small, even smaller than a standard sheet of parchment. And, I might add, it showed a section of the Bohanis that had already been well mapped. I had been swindled.
Or so I thought.
“The map in father’s study?” Breslin interrupted. “That’s what you traded for? It’s not even accurate!”
“It was drawn by a Narian cartographer, so by definition, it was a Narian map. What the map was used for we’ll probably never know.”
“But you were swindled! He made you believe it was a map to Nar when it was nothing more than –”
“They told me it was a Narian map. It was. Let it go, lad. May I continue?”
Contrite, Breslin dropped his eyes and waited for his grandfather to resume his story.
Upon closer examination of the map, I found a tiny upside-down hammer in the lower left corner. I decided it was just a mark made by the cartographer and was ready to dismiss it when curiosity got the better of me and I decided, since I was already at a castle, with a well stocked library, to do some research. Imagine my surprise when I was able to authenticate the map as genuinely Narian.
From the time I could barely walk I have heard stories about the fabled city of Nar. Every child thinks he can find it when he grows to adulthood. Every adult, once they reach adulthood, vows if they ever have the resources to properly search for the city, then they would.
I did not have the proper resources to launch a full-scale expedition to Nar, but I also wasn’t a pauper. I carefully folded the map and tucked it into my papers. I remember turning around and coming face to face with the little human girl for whom I had just delivered the dancing doll. Standing next to her was a second human child, around the same age and garbed similarly. She introduced her best friend in the world and introduced me as the one who had created her favorite, most bestest toy in the world.
“Bestest?” Breslin smiled, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m paraphrasing,” Kasnar explained. “Those were her words not mine. Besides, she was no more than nine years old. Stop making me lose my focus.”
“Sorry.”
After she introduced her friend, she implored me, even begged me, to make her friend the same type of doll that I had made for her. I told her that this type of request wasn’t an easy one, and that perhaps if I were to speak to her father maybe, just maybe, we might be able to work something out. The first girl informed me that her friend’s family couldn’t afford to purchase all the pretty things like hers could, and that’s why she wanted to deal with me directly.
I found myself between the proverbial rock and a hard place. While I paused to collect my thoughts, the first child grabbed my arm and asked if I would consider doing a trade, like her father had done for me. Not believing this human child could have anything that I would ever want, I gently asked what she had in mind. She told me to follow her. Turning on her heel, she led me deep into the castle, past several sets of guards, into a large room which I correctly guessed was the nursery set up for all the noble’s children. All manner of toys were scattered about. How these children could possibly want more toys was beyond me.
After glancing around the room I could immediately see that there wasn’t anything there that I was remotely interested in. But, not wanting to appear rude, especially to a young daughter of a human noble, I waited to see what the child offered. She and her friend began searching one of three enormous chests, tossing various toys over their shoulders. Moving to the second chest, the first girl gives a shrill shriek and turns around, clutching something to her chest. I couldn’t tell what it was from the way she was holding it. Walking up to me she finally held out this brown stick as though it was made of pure gold.
I took the proffered trade and inspected it. Why would this human child give me a carved stick? Was there something I was missing? Several of the carvings caught my eye. Axes, kytes, and sure enough, even a tiny picture of a hammer, carved into one of the ends.
“You’re talking about the power hammer’s handle,
right?” Tristofer asked. His hand was back in the air.
“Obviously. Be quiet.”
“Sorry.”
There I was, in possession of two authentic Narian artifacts. Do I agree to create another doll at my own expense? Or, should I ignore my instincts and refuse the trade? What would you have done? The same thing as I, I guarantee it. So I gathered my materials, found a place to work, and created the second doll. I wanted that handle, as you all have clearly deduced the true nature of the trade. How the power hammer’s handle came into the little girl’s possession I’ll never know. I didn’t want to know. I still don’t.
To be doubly certain that the trade brokered by the girl was sanctioned by her father, I approached the noble and explained what his daughter had done and what she was proposing to do. The human shrugged and waved me off, as though I was a pesky insect. Very well, I thought. If he didn’t care if his daughter was trading a Narian artifact for a simple doll, then I wouldn’t press the issue. I made the doll, delivered it, and took possession of the handle.
Returning to Borahgg I asked myself what I should do with my new treasures. I probably should have turned both artifacts over to the Council and let it go, however, I was very surprised to learn that I wanted to be the one to find Nar. I wanted to explore, to research, to get my hands dirty, so to speak.
I informed my family that I discovered a new lucrative set of customers for my wares, namely the humans. I told them that the doll was so well received at the human castle that I had stayed around a little while longer and created a second doll, which was true, and that more and more people wanted toys, too.
Back in that time, it was not uncommon for a member of the clan to venture out to either seek his fortune, go on an adventure, or else be absent for longer periods of time. Neika, my wife, completely understood and encouraged me to share my ‘gift’ as she called it, with everyone that I could.
“Didn’t you feel bad about lying to grandmother about your intentions?” Breslin demanded, growing angry.
“Aye. I never should have left.”
“She thinks you’re dead, grandfather. We all did.”
Kasnar’s hopeful eyes met his grandson’s. “She still lives?”
“Aye.”
“If only I could gaze upon her beauty once more,” Kasnar whispered softly. “I wish to tell her how sorry I am.”
“You will,” Breslin promised. “Please, continue your tale.”
“Right. Let’s see…”
I was in such a rush to leave, fearing that the nature of my mission would become known and I would be forcibly detained, that I didn’t realize I had left the map until I had made it Topside and was well past the valley. Deciding against returning for the map, as I had committed every detail to memory, I journeyed far and wide, seeking out every clan I could in my quest to learn all there was to know about Nar. Sadly, this part of the tale didn’t take long as there wasn’t much authentic, documented proof about its existence. Everyone seemed to accept the simple truth that Nar once existed, but no one, and I do mean no one, had any indication where it could be found.
Determination set it. If one human girl could possess two pieces of Narian culture then it was completely feasible to think that other artifacts existed elsewhere, whether stored in children’s toy boxes or perhaps sitting on the shelf of some noble’s study. The key to finding Nar, I believed, rested with the people. Somehow, and I didn’t have any idea how, I needed to broker more trades like the ones I had done at R’Tal. I needed the people to seek me out just like the human noble from the castle.
Four months of fruitless searching convinced me I had left my home unprepared. I didn’t know where else to look, and what’s more, I didn’t know what I was looking for. I needed more information and it became clear I wasn’t going to find it wandering aimlessly Topside. With great reluctance I returned to Borahgg. I told Neika that I had accumulated enough orders to keep me busy for a while so I resumed my duties as toy maker. Neika was no fool. I knew she suspected I was working on some secret project as I spent countless hours in the Archives when I wasn’t in my workshop. I felt horrible for deceiving her. I did everything I could to avoid arousing suspicion. I figured I needed to focus on my work, so I poured every ounce of creativity, every ounce of passion I had into my creations. Beautiful wyverian figurines, capable of flapping wings, walking a few steps, and even breathing fire, began to accumulate on the shelves in my shop. Since I only produced a few a year you can begin to imagine how long I waited.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. I fell into a routine. Working tirelessly on my wyverians occupied my time during the day and once a week I’d devote to researching in the Archives, looking for everything referencing Nar, no matter how minute. I became a veritable scholar on the subject. Every book, every article, every story that had ever been passed from father to son, I learned. I spent long hours perusing through musty tomes, interviewing various people, and discerning everything I could from my Narian artifacts. What was I able to learn?
Absolutely nothing.
Growing desperate, I came up with a brilliant plan. I started to make more toys. These toys were not as elaborate as my prized wyverians, but they were still quite clever. These were puzzles. The simple metal pieces fit together so precisely that they created shapes. I made griffins, serpents, kytes, and any of a number of other creatures that fit my fancy. The brilliance of my plan, though, was what came next. I made another journey to the human castle in R’Tal and made a gift of a dozen of the puzzles. I also selected several of my wyverians and brought them along, just so they could get a taste of the finer merchandise.
The puzzles were received very well by the children. Never had they seen puzzles like this. They wanted more, always more! I just smiled and said that I was a simple toymaker looking to expand my list of customers. When I was putting a few of the extra puzzles away I let my bag fall open long enough for the king to see one of my wyverians. It was a silver land dragon, with emeralds for its eyes. This model could walk around a few steps and even swish its tail back and forth.
The king fell for it. He said he had to have it. I told him that my wyverians were a passion of mine and that I really wasn’t looking to sell them as I didn’t need more gold. This story was validated by my refusal to accept payment for the gift of the puzzles. The king began to offer other treasures in lieu of gold. Again, I politely demurred, stating that I had no desire to part with them.
Finally, after the king and I went back and forth for nearly an hour, a silver and gold colored shield was produced. It was Narian, I could see that immediately by the way the Narian blacksmith had masterfully blended the gold and silver together. The king informed me that this was his favorite shield as it had never failed him on the field of battle. He offered it in exchange for my silver wyverian. I meekly accepted. The human king became a valuable ally from that point on.
Returning to Borahgg with my new shield, I…
“Yes? What is it, Breslin?”
“I have that shield. Father gave it to me quite a while ago.”
Kasnar smiled. “I’m glad to hear it’s still in the family. Now, where was I? Oh, yes.”
I returned home with the shield and wondered what my next step should be. Do I try visiting other cities? Perhaps I should venture north into Ylani and try my luck at Zaran, their capital? As it turns out I didn’t have long to wait. Word rapidly spread of a dwarf living under the northwestern Bohanis who made wonderfully articulate wyverian figurines. Everyone wanted one. I’ve never seen demand for a single item so high. I couldn’t make them fast enough.
Soon I had the largest private collection of Narian artifacts ever assembled. Mind you, most of the trades were for small, insignificant pieces of armor, or maybe a slip of paper with the Narian seal on it. However you chose to look at it, I wouldn’t refuse a trade if the customer who came
asking for a wyverian had a Narian item.
In retrospect that should have been my first warning. I was becoming too careless. It was only a matter of time before I attracted his attention.
“Who’s attention?” Breslin demanded, instantly angry.
“Settle down, lad. I’m getting there.”
One day I received word that a customer, who wished to remain anonymous, wanted the nicest wyverian I had and was willing to exchange a hammer head for it. I had a handle. I thought this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. I…
“That should have been your second clue something was amiss,” Athos remarked.
Kasnar gave him a sour look. “You think? Be silent.”
“Sorry.”
Against better judgment, I journeyed to Bykram and met at the agreed upon location which was just outside their main entrance. I waited for two days, and when it was apparent that my mystery customer wasn’t going to put in an appearance, I decided that as long as I was there, I should consult with their scholars to see if anything new had been uncovered. However, if you’re familiar with Bykram, or any clan city, one does not venture inside without an invitation. Plus, their entrances are hidden. I had been to Bykram the prior year and knew that the only way I’d gain entrance is to be escorted by one of the Kla Rehn. So I waited.
Nearly three days later the door finally opened and a dwarf ventured outside. I introduced myself and indicated my desire to meet with one of their scholars, Zincoff. I was escorted inside and led straight to the library where my story was corroborated. I spent a few extra days there as their library was extensive and I quite honestly lost track of time. Little did I know I was being watched.
I had stumbled across a reference to dendrology, which is the study of…
“Trees!” Tristofer blurted out.
Everyone stared at the scholar. Tristofer mumbled an apology and went quiet.
Trees. I had found an obscure horticulture manual which had a tiny mention of a practice the Narians used which could modify the behavior of trees. Modify it how? What did it mean? What would the Narians gain by changing how a tree behaves?
“Lower your hand, Master Lukas,” Kasnar told the underling. “We all know where this is going.”
Excitement was building again. I was certain I was exploring an angle that no one had ever considered before. What was I looking for? Would I know if I found it? As you can imagine I spent the next several weeks idly roaming about Topside, careful not to venture too far from Bykram as the surrounding forest and mountains were largely unexplored. I had come to the base of one mountain and was gazing up at one of its sides when I spotted a tree. I’m sure you know which one I’m referring to. Anyway, I located a tree that looked as though it had two separate colors on its trunk. Since a closer look was warranted, I climbed up for a better look.
“You climbed all the way up there?” Athos exclaimed. “By hand? That’s impressive. I don’t care who you are, that’s just impressive.”
Kasnar nodded. “You make it sound as though it’s impossible. Clearly it isn’t as the five of you also made the same journey.”
Breslin cleared his throat. “We, uh, were carried up.”
Kasnar leaned forward, interested. “Carried? By whom? By what?”
“By Rhamalli!” Lukas piped up.
“What’s that?” Kasnar wanted to know.
“It’s a who, not a what. He’s a dragon,” Venk told him.
“You were carried up the mountain by a dragon? You didn’t have to climb?”
Venk and his companions shook their heads no.
“And the dragon did this willingly? You didn’t trick it?”
Everyone nodded their heads affirmatively.
“That is impressive, lads. Allow me to continue.”
Once I was standing before the tree I could see right away that this tree had been modified, its behavior changed, as this wasn’t just one tree but two. Why these two were growing together meant only one thing to me: concealment. I believed it was hiding something. Getting down on my belly I could see that there was the tiniest of openings in the rock at the base of the two trunks. Applying my eye to the hole revealed an open cavity just on the other side!
I spent the next three days painstakingly chipping away at the rock to enlarge the hole. Once it was large enough to pass through, I entered the hole and was about to look around when I heard a commotion outside. Someone was coming up the side of the mountain, and from the sounds of it, it was more than one person. I had been spotted, and more importantly, I had the hammer handle with me. I knew that whoever was approaching was no friend, so I had to find a place to hide the handle. I wrapped it in a piece of cloth that I had and looked up at the junction of the trunks, which was just over my head. I wedged the handle up against the trunks and once I verified that it wouldn’t drop back down, I scrambled outside to try and intercept the encroachers before they discovered the cave under the roots. After concealing the hole the best that I could, I headed down the mountain, managing to descend about twenty feet. I stopped, whipped out my hammer and chisel, and pretended I was trying to extricate a stone when they found me.
“Who?” Breslin demanded. “Isn’t it time you tell us who your captors are?”
Kasnar nodded. “A Kla Rehn family by the name of Delvehearth.”
Breslin blinked a few times with surprise. “You say that name as though we should know it. I’ve never heard of them.”
“Of course you haven’t. They’re an insignificant moronic bunch of idiots.”
Athos and Venk both managed to stifle their laughs, but Lukas let out a loud giggle. Venk silently wagged a finger at his son and then tapped his lips with his fingers. The meaning came through loud and clear. Lukas composed himself and fell silent.
“What can you tell us about this Delvehearth family?” Breslin inquired, already hating the family for their treatment of his elderly grandfather. “What did they want with you?”
“Long story short, they wanted me to unlock the secrets of Narian metallurgy.”
“People have been trying to do that for centuries!” Tristofer cried. “No one has had any luck. Wait. Have you?”
“Have I what, Master Tristofer?”
“Had any luck deciphering the mystery of Narian metal?”
Kasnar shook his head. “None whatsoever.”
“How long have you been at it?” Athos asked, curious. A quick glance around the area revealed stacks of books and scrolls everywhere. An open notebook lay on the thin mattress. Several scrawls could be seen on its open pages.
“I really can’t remember,” Kasnar admitted, rubbing his gnarled hands together. “So long that I can’t remember doing anything else.”
I was escorted back to Bykram in the company of two adult dwarfs. I heard the one refer to the other as Bastion, but the identity of the second was never revealed to me. That night was the only time I had ever seen him since I was quite certain Bastion had plans to eliminate his helper just as soon as I was secured because I never saw Bastion’s assistant again after that day. I learned Bastion had been watching me from the time I had arrived at Bykram, as he was the mystery client that was responsible for bringing me to the city.
Bound and concealed by a hooded cloak, I was escorted through the city, unchallenged, as Bastion explained I was a relative that had taken ill. I was taken to his home and locked securely in a cellar. I spent enough time in that house to learn, by keeping my ears tuned to anything happening on the other side of the door, that my captor had made a discovery within the last year or so and it was something large enough that he wanted to keep it secret.
I hadn’t learned the nature of this discovery yet, only that somehow he was profiting off of it. More expensive furnishings began appearing in the home. They began to take pride in their appearance as every time I saw Bastion after that point he was clothed in his finest attire. The Delvehearths had clearl
y stumbled onto a fortune, and they were desperate to keep it concealed.
In several years time I was moved to another location, as I had learned Bastion had accumulated enough wealth to purchase a larger, fancier home as his old home had become too small to contain everything he and his wife had purchased. I also learned that the new home was chosen specifically because of its large storage cellar beneath the residence. Bastion knew that there’d be no escape from that cellar without proper tools and he watched me constantly to make sure I never got my hands on any. He wanted all of my knowledge of Nar, and of blacksmithing, and he was prepared to wait as long as necessary to get every last bit of it.
My primary task was to unlock the metallurgical secrets of special pieces of armor I was given. I told them that I couldn’t do this without having access to information. Time and time again I was brought more armor, books, and scrolls. It wasn’t until Bastion had dropped off the second set of books when I realized just what it was that he had found. The imbecilic lout had located Nar, and wherever he had found it, only he knew how to find it again. To make matters worse, I learned that’s where the wealth was coming from. He had found the fabled city I had been searching for and was pillaging it, selling whatever valuables he could find. To say that I was angry was a serious understatement.
One thing I will give Bastion, though, was he was no fool. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before his supply of armor was depleted. If that ever happened, how would he maintain the lifestyle that he and his family had become so obsessed with? Like so many entrepreneurs before him, he decided if he could learn how to make more armor, he could continue to amass his fortune at an astounding rate. He had found Nar! Surely somewhere in the city some blacksmith had kept detailed notes on what the process was for creating more. Fortunately for us, Bastion was no blacksmith. He had absolutely no skills with a hammer or chisel. He would be lost if he ever stepped foot in a foundry. He was also no scholar, having only mediocre reading skills.
Bastion realized he needed to find someone that did possess those skills and also was familiar with the deep levels of research necessary to even begin to unlock the Narian secrets. How would he go about finding such a person? How could he get them to Bykram? That’s unfortunately why I became part of this accursed tale.
“Wait a moment,” Tristofer interrupted. “Did Bastion know that he had discovered Nar?”
“I’m coming to that. Be patient.”
I believe I was imprisoned in that basement for nearly a century before one night I fell asleep and awoke in this chamber here. I can only assume that he had drugged my food. Upon awakening, and discovering that I was here, I began to explore the room. I saw, with dismay, that I was in yet another storage room, but this time all signs indicated that I was in Nar itself. I still couldn’t tell you how to get here from Bykram as the way remains concealed from me.
“Don’t worry,” Tristofer assured him. “We know it. There’s no way any of us will ever forget it.”
Breslin took a deep breath. “How were you able to create that mark and such a perfect plan to get us the hammer and reveal Nar’s location? You’re no wizard. None of us ever were.”
In the midst of taking a drink of water from a nearby goblet, Kasnar choked.
“Perfect? You think it was a perfect plan? Hardly. You’re right, lad, I’m no spellcaster. However, that doesn’t mean I didn’t have the time to learn.”
“How does one learn how to cast spells?” Tristofer inquired, insanely curious.
“With time,” Kasnar answered, giving the young scholar a patronizing smile. “With lots of time. And it doesn’t hurt to have several Narian spellbooks to guide you along.”
“Narian spellbooks?” Tristofer repeated, shocked. “Narians practiced jhorun?”
Kasnar reached over to the nearest bookshelf and pulled out a dilapidated blue tome from a stack of books in similar condition. He passed it to Tristofer, who was dumbstruck.
“Apparently they dabbled,” Kasnar told him. “And fortunately for me, this volume was mixed in with one of the loads of books I was given by Rahygren, Bastion’s son.”
Tristofer was ecstatic. “The Narians practiced jhorun! I knew it!!”
“You did not,” Kasnar argued. “You just said so yourself. Now, let me continue.”
“Get to the part where Bastion learns he had found Nar,” Athos told him impatiently. Although he’d deny it if confronted, he had become completely enraptured by Kasnar’s tale.
Kasnar sighed. “Fine.”
For those of you that are curious how Bastion learned what he had discovered, it was by accident. For that, let me switch briefly to Bastion’s routine when his gold ran low.
Eager to hide his new fortune from prying eyes, Bastion only made the journey to Nar once every couple of months. Once there he’d collect some of the smallest trinkets he could find, which usually meant pieces of jewelry, small weapons, and the like. Whatever he chose to bring back had to be small enough to be concealed on his person as he didn’t want to be stopped in the streets by anyone.
One day he came back from one of his pillaging trips with his customary load of jewels and artifacts. However, on this trip he had found a set of bejeweled wrist bands, and deciding he wanted to keep them for himself, he chose to wear them back. When he approached his usual contact, an unsavory fellow who stank of rotten fish…
“How would you possibly know this?” Athos demanded. “You said it yourself. You never left this room.”
“This was prior to my arrival as a prisoner held in Nar,” Kasnar explained. “Rahygren and Krisken, that would be Rahygren’s wife, have had many heated arguments, many of which I was able to overhear. The two of them were at each other’s throats constantly. At any rate, Bastion had brought this character to his house several times, presumably to make riskier and riskier deals. Apparently this fellow suspected Bastion was holding out on him and wanted a larger and larger cut of the profits in exchange for his silence.”
“I’m surprised Rahygren agreed to that,” Venk murmured.
“He didn’t want to,” Kasnar agreed. “He must have ranted and raved like a lunatic, if one was to believe Krisken. As the number of deals increased, their profits decreased, and soon Bastion was berating his son to look for a way to tie up loose ends.”
Venk covered Lukas’ ears with both hands.
“I think we all know what that means. There’s no need to go into further details.”
Kasnar nodded. “As you wish.”
When Bastion met with the fellow, like he typically did at whatever tavern the two of them frequented, the man noticed the bands immediately. He demanded to know how Bastion had acquired them. Thinking quickly, Bastion claimed he had relieved the bands from a drunken traveler. Liking how they had looked, he decided to keep them.
Apparently Bastion learned of the nature of the bands and where they hailed from because as soon as he returned he threw enough food in my cellar for several weeks and disappeared. He was absent for three weeks. If I were to venture a guess I would say that was when Bastion began searching the blacksmith shops. The search for valuable trinkets was over. He had discovered a much more lucrative commodity. Armor.
The armor was the key, Bastion figured. He had to unlock the secrets of the armor, and in order to do that, he needed a scholar. He began financing excursions to other cities. He hired mercenaries to do his searching for him, thereby leaving him with an irrefutable alibi in case any questionable actions had to be taken. Word trickled back to him of a toymaker who could make wonderful toys and was only interested in exchanging the toys for genuine Narian artifacts. He had one of his men approach me and claim that they wanted to purchase the most expensive figurine I had available and to personally deliver it to Bykram.
I’m ashamed to say that I fell for it.
“That explains how your path and Bastion’s crossed,” Breslin thoughtfully observe
d. “But that doesn’t explain how jhorun became involved. What happened there? Bastion simply gave you a spell book? Didn’t he check the titles before he gave them to you?”
“He couldn’t,” Kasnar said with a shrug. “He couldn’t read Narian. I could. I had been researching it for so long that by then, I had taught it to myself. To this day I don’t think he realizes what he’s done. May I finish now?”
“Sorry”.
As I was perusing through the latest batch of books delivered by my captor, I was startled to find a tome of spells. I was so surprised that I flipped the book over and re-verified it was Narian. It was. It was written in the same fluid language that the rest of the books had been written in, so this was no fluke. Narians had jhorun and they obviously had used it.
I don’t think I need to tell you that I read that book from cover to cover. Not only did the Narians practice jhorun, but as with the humans, some had become very adept at it. One such Narian, a skilled spellcaster by the name of Oricfed Galfodin, decided to put his favorite spells to the pen. That book is the result.
Most of Oricfed’s spells were useless as what need have I to turn brown leather boots black? But interspersed throughout the book were much more useful spells, such as how to keep metal as hot as you want without melting it. While it made for some incredibly interesting reading, it still didn’t help me out of my present predicament. Nothing in the book was powerful enough to break out of this cell. Perhaps Rahygren had checked the book after all and since it was harmless, felt he could safely give it to me. I don’t know. I was discouraged. I memorized what spells that I deemed useful and returned to my research as I had Bastion checking on my progress every three or four days.
I kept returning to the volume of spells as I couldn’t help but feel there was something I was missing. It was a book of spells! There must be something in there that could help me escape! Two more hours of fruitless searching yielded no extra insight, so in disgust, I threw the book across the room. It hit the back wall and slid down on to the mattress, falling open somewhere around the middle of the book. The scholar in me detested mistreating any type book, so I bent to retrieve it when I noticed the page it had fallen on. Apparently there were two pages that had been stuck together, and the jolt against the wall and separated them. While parts of the page had ripped away, as whatever adhesive was holding the two pages together were too strong to break, the note on the page was still legible.
It was simply entitled ‘layering’.
“As in the layering of spells?” Tristofer eagerly asked. “Shardwyn started to tell us how complicated a multi-layered spell can be.”
“I’m not familiar with that name. I’m assuming he’s a wizard?”
Tristofer shook his head. “Yes.”
The note was only three sentences long, but it was enough to get my hopes soaring again. Oricfed wrote that it was possible to combine two spells together and make them work in tandem with one another. Everyone with me so far?
Breslin, Athos, Venk, Lukas, and Tristofer all nodded excitedly.
Good. I thought back to what this book contained. Spells. Lots and lots of small insignificant spells that individually are inconsequential, but when layered with another, render completely unexpected results. I resolved right then that I had to master each and every spell contained in the book. And, funnily enough, I had to come to terms with the fact that I clearly had some level of jhorun in me as I could perform several of the less complex spells contained in the book and attain successful results.
You can imagine I kept this hidden from Rahygren. Every time he left me alone I’d retrieve that book and begin to experiment. Let me tell all of you that when it comes to mastering your jhorun, it’s not an easy thing to do.
“How did you do it?” Tristofer softly inquired.
“With time,” Kasnar answered. “Something that I had lots of.”
I began with a spell that would sketch out the dimensions of the room I was in. The spell was designed for cartographers, and I figured if I could make it draw out my chambers here, then I could start from there.
It took many attempts to get it right. Jhorun is very fickle. Your mind plays just as an important role as does the spell itself. If you’re not thinking clearly about what you want the spell to do then it can easily backfire or give you unexpected results. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice to say that after much trial and error I could get it to map out not only my room but the existing city of Nar.
Consequently, Nar is much larger than I ever dreamt it’d be.
With that spell mastered, I moved on to the others. I learned so many, and could perform them so well, that I then started to experiment with layering. I fetched a fresh sheet of parchment, laid it on the table there, and tried my cartography spell once more, only this time I added in a seeker’s spell, specifying I wanted to know where my family was by showing me on the map. At the same time I imagined holding a map of Lentari, with dots indicating where my family was at that moment.
It didn’t go over so well. I got my map of Lentari, but it had so many dots all over it that I could barely recognize the map for what it was. I tried again. And again. And again. Each time I got something a little different.
With luck, and a little perseverance, I chanced upon the key to making a multi-layered spell work. You had to have all possible outcomes planned out. Give it a ‘if this happens then do that’ clause. I went through every formulation I could think of and asked yet again for the seeker/cartography spell to show me my family. A single dot appeared, and it was right over the Bohanis where Borahgg was.
I was elated! I modified the spell to map out the city of Borahgg and then show me where my family was. I cried right then. There, in the family home that I remembered, was a dot with a tiny label next to it: Neika. Maelnar was nearby, as were several of my siblings and their children. It had worked!
I should also mention here that it had taken me several months just to modify my spell from showing me my family in Lentari to showing them in Borahgg. It wasn’t easy, but it was possible, and that gave me hope.
Now that I knew I could do it, I expanded my experiments and tried to see if I could find inanimate objects. I thought back to my home and knew that Neika would never do anything to the map I had received from the little human girl all those years ago, so I began the painstaking process of modifying the spell to no longer look for my family but instead, display the location of the map in Borahgg.
Sure enough, a tiny dot appeared on my map. It was right where I remembered it being, namely in my home. I decided to see if anyone else in Borahgg had anything from Nar, so I modified my map again to see if there were other types of Narian artifacts nearby. You can imagine my dismay when after six months of creating my spell, nothing appeared on the paper.
To make sure I had the spell right, I thought back to my favorite chisel back in my workshop. I modified the spell, again, to find and display that tool on my map. It worked! It was still in my workshop, provided my workshop was still mine. The map merely displayed the chisel’s location; it didn’t tell me whether or not the workshop was still mine. I had hoped it was.
“Why not just send a message?” Venk interrupted. “Why go to so much trouble to create a multi-layer spell when a simple plea for help would have sufficed?”
“Rahygren began to suspect I was up to no good,” Kasnar answered. “Bastion had passed away years ago, and unfortunately for me, Rahygren took over the family business. He was much smarter than his father ever was. He kept a much closer eye on me. The only way I was allowed to work on the spell was by convincing him that I was attempting to decipher ancient pictographs. I knew he would only believe that story for so long, but I had to try. I needed time. The problem was, I had run out.”
“What do you mean?” Venk asked as he nervously looked around, as though Rahygren himself would jump out of the shadows at any mom
ent.
“Suspecting I was plotting something, and in retrospect I can only figure it was because my attitude had gone through a complete reversal because I was happy, even hopeful. I guess I hadn’t ever been like that because Rahygren grew very nervous. A week later that behemoth of a door had been installed.”
Everyone turned to look at the heavily damaged iron door fifteen feet away.
“I needed a way to defeat the door. Rahygren alone had the key, which he kept on a pendant he wore at all times. There was no way to wrest it away from him as I had become old and feeble. He had me stymied, and he knew it. What he didn’t know, though, is that I had a few tricks up my own sleeves. I just needed time. And thankfully, that’s what he gave me since he was certain there was no way I was ever going to get through that door without the key.
Confident in my new-found abilities, I began to formulate an escape plan. First, I had to solve the door problem. I remembered reading something about special tools the Narians favored. I only remembered something about having special enhanced power. Maybe something like that could break the door down? I had to look, and now thanks to the spell book and my ability to find inanimate objects, I might be able to find something Topside that could be used to free me.
The seeker/cartography spell took close to a year to write. It was the most complex spell I had ever written, but if I wanted to be successful, I knew I had to be as thorough as possible. Any changes once it had been completed would necessitate a year long wait to plot it all out again. Once I was done, I activated the spell and held my breath. Would there even be anything out there to find, let alone be useful enough to be able to help me attain the freedom I so craved?
My map lit up with speckled dots. Turns out remnants of the once mighty Narian people were everywhere. The problem was, however, I didn’t know enough about what could be out there to include that in the spell.
“No labels,” Breslin guessed.
Kasnar nodded.
There were plenty of things to find, but not enough information to identify. What I needed now was to figure out what I was looking for. What was capable of breaking down that door? Maybe a chisel to cut away the stone from the locking bars? Perhaps a file to cut my way through the door? Perhaps a drill to bore through the locking mechanism?
The answer came when I learned of the existence of the power hammers. There was a tool that was capable of pulverizing the largest boulders with minimal effort. Surely a tool of this magnitude could help me out. However, the more I researched, the more I realized that their hammers were closely guarded secrets. Apparently their construction was passed from father to son by word of mouth only.
My gaze dropped to my map. I had the means to locate one! Surely I must try! Hopeful again, I returned to my spellbook and began crafting an even more complex spell, as this time I needed to narrow my focus. After a year and a half I was ready. I activated the spell. Much to my chagrin, nothing appeared. There were simply no power hammers left in existence. My hopes fell. Then the tinker in me wondered if the parts to make one still existed. I went back to my books and learned there were four parts comprising a power hammer: handle, head, counterweight, and helix.
“You’re talking about the ruby whorl, right?” Tristofer asked.
“To the Narians, it was simply a helix,” Kasnar explained.
Two years later I was ready yet again. I activated the spell and waited to see what would happen. Four dots appeared on my map. I held my breath. Since I had specified I wanted one of each component, I knew that I had found what I was looking for. My luck held!
I studied the four areas on the map where the dots were. One was in a tiny lake. Another was in a waterfall on the eastern coast. The third location was in the Selekais.
“And the fourth?” Athos prompted.
Venk regarded his brother with such an incredulous look that Athos was taken aback.
“What? What’d I miss?”
“The fourth is Dual Tree.”
“Oh, right. Forgot about that. Sorry.”
Kasnar gingerly picked the hammer up and inspected it. Turning it over and over in his hands, he looked up at his grandson.
“Which location held which component?”
Breslin tapped the hammer’s head. “This we found at the waterfall. The weight was at the bottom of the nixie lake, and the gem was in the collection of a Zweigelan. The helix was a real pleasure to obtain, let me tell you.”
Surprised, Kasnar smoothed down his long thin beard. “Really?”
“No. I was joking.”
“Ah.”
Kasnar closed his eyes and gave the appearance of having fallen asleep. Breslin eyed the others before subtly clearing his throat. Kasnar’s eyes snapped open.
“I’m still alive, lad.”
“We thought you had fallen asleep.”
“Oh. It’s a distinct possibility.” Kasnar chuckled. “Will you answer me something?”
Breslin nodded. “Of course.”
“Was there an entrance to Nar in the cave under the tree?”
Breslin nodded again. “Aye. That’s how we entered the mountain.”
The frail old dwarf clapped his hands with glee. “I knew it! If only I had time to look!”
“It’s good that you didn’t,” Breslin pointed out.
Kasnar sat up straighter. “Eh? How so?”
“Had you gone into the mountain, you would have encountered a sealed Narian door. Without a helix, you wouldn’t have made it very far.”
“And because you had the hammer, you were allowed to pass,” Kasnar thoughtfully observed.
“Exactly,” Breslin confirmed.
“I think it’s high time we got out of here,” Venk declared as he rose to his feet. He pulled Lukas up as well. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’d like to be long gone from here before our gracious host returns.”
Breslin scrambled to his feet. He gently picked up his grandfather and set him on the ground. Kasnar slapped his hands away.
“I may not be as young as you,” the wizened little dwarf snapped as he straightened as much of his three and a half foot frame as he could, “but I am no invalid. I can walk.”
“We may have to run,” Athos pointed out as he pulled his large battle axe from his back. He also pulled his smaller close-range axe and began fussing with his two baldrics crisscrossing across his back.
“What are you doing?” Venk wanted to know. He caught his brother’s large single-bladed black axe as it was thrown to him.
“Can you carry that for me?”
Comprehension dawned. Venk nodded and fastened the axe to his baldric so that it lay next to his crossbow. Having finished arranging the leather straps, Athos motioned for Breslin to pick his grandfather up and place him in the harness he had created on his pack. Nodding gratefully, Breslin moved towards his grandfather.
“Don’t even think about it,” Kasnar warned. “I’ll not be slung over anyone’s shoulder like a slab of meat, thank you very much.”
Frustration flared.
“Want to see grandmother again?” Breslin snapped.
Kasnar’s mouth closed.
“I thought so. This is not ideal, but it’ll get us out of here. Master Athos is right. I have a sneaking suspicion we’ll need to make a speedy departure. There we go.”
Breslin easily lifted his frail grandfather onto Athos’ back and strapped him into place. Once he was sure Kasnar was secure, he picked up Athos’ smaller axe and added it to his own belt.
“Everyone ready? Let’s go.”
Tristofer was flabbergasted.
“We can’t go! We’re in Nar! We have so much to do!”
“What’s more important?” Breslin countered back at him. “Stay here longer to look around and run the risk of running into this Rahygren fellow or getting out of here in one piece so you can be the one to announce the discovery of Nar?”
&nb
sp; Tristofer hurriedly slung his pack over his shoulder.
“It can wait.”
Breslin grunted. “I thought as much. Let’s go. As soon as we make it outside Rhamalli can take us back to the valley just as quickly as he can. Rhamalli, is there any chance you can hear us?”
The dragon’s voice was silent. The dragons’ faculties were impressive, but there were limits.
“We’re too far inside the mountain. Let’s get outside. Everyone stick together.”
They followed their own tracks through the dust and emerged back into the large main hall. Every few feet they’d all hear a cry of anguish as Kasnar spotted example after example of Nar’s desecration by the Delvehearth family.
“A pox on that accursed family,” Kasnar muttered softly to himself. “No amount of punishment is fit for the crimes this city has suffered.”
“What about what they did to you?” Lukas asked, looking up at the old man riding on his uncle’s back. “They kept you here for so long. Aren’t you angry about that?”
“Aye, I am, young master,” Kasnar admitted as he smiled down at the underling. “I forgave the Delvehearths years ago.”
“Why?” the underling inquired.
“Because I was raised to see the good in everyone, no matter how foul the person. They imprisoned me, aye. They kept me away from my family, aye. I choose not to dwell on that. Instead, I look forward to seeing my beloved Neika again. I yearn to see my son again, and get to know any other family members I haven’t met. For that matter, I look forward to getting to know Breslin here. He was but a very young lad when I left.”
“You will, grandfather,” Breslin called back from the front of their group. “You will. I promise.”
Emerging into the rapidly enlightening room, Breslin came to a sudden stop. He held up his arm and signaled the others to stop as well. Standing in front of the main door, blocking any attempts of escape, were five dwarves. All were outfitted in confiscated Narian armor and all had crossbows drawn, loaded, and ready to fire. All five were aimed straight at them.
“That’s far enough,” a gruff voice barked out at them. “Lay down your arms and surrender before we turn you into a pincushion.”
Chapter 13 – Just Say No to Bullying
Lost City Page 31