Azerick noticed that the doorway before him was different from the multitude of others they had passed. Numerous runes and carvings were scrawled in relief all along the doorframe, and a brighter, whiter light emanated through its open passageway.
Another stout dwarf, though not as brawny as Togar and his crew, stepped through the door. He tucked his beard into a wide leather tool belt carrying a vast assortment of chisels and hammers. His long, braided, salt and pepper hair ran down between his shoulder blades and ended in a bright silver ring near the small of his back.
The two dwarves began conversing in their own tongue, often glancing over at the human standing quietly in their midst. Togar handed over Azerick’s scroll case along with the rest of his belongings to Duncan. Duncan slipped the scrolls out of the case and glanced at the writings upon them.
Azerick busied himself with examining the runes carved along the doorway and realized that they were far more than mere ornamentation. An unknown magic radiated from the carvings, but he could tell they gained their power from the Source, even if in an indirect way.
Duncan’s curt voice interrupted Azerick’s contemplations. “Once you’re done gawking at my door, grab your bag and follow me inside.”
Azerick looked away from the engraved symbols and saw that Togar had left him and the new dwarf alone. He picked up his pack laying on the ground a few feet away and followed the dwarf through the doorway. Inside was a stone table surrounded by stone benches. Nooks carved into the walls held books, tools, stones, and crystals.
“The name’s Duncan, Duncan Runecarver, in case you didn’t catch it before.” The dwarf set the scroll case and Azerick’s small leather pouch containing the coins and gems he had taken from the dragon’s lair onto the workbench.
“My name is Azerick.”
Duncan’s only reply was a grunt as he looked over the scrolls he spread out before him. He then pressed a small cylinder with thick glass lenses onto his eye and studied each the jewels he poured out of the leather pouch. Once he was finished examining them, he scooped them up along with the coins, dropped them back into the bag, and casually tossed it off to one side of his workbench. The old dwarf then dug through Azerick’s pack and pulled out the few books he could not bear to leave behind with Zeb and Toron as well as the ancient tome on magic.
Duncan set the books in a stack on one side of his desk, picked one from the top, and began flipping through its pages. Azerick winced when the dwarf tossed the first one to the side of the bench and grabbed another. Duncan showed no reaction at the books’ contents until he came to the thick, ancient tome Azerick prized so highly. The dwarf’s thick, bushy eyebrows rose as he scanned the pages with interest. He set it aside with considerably more deference than he had shown the others and grabbed another book.
Azerick stood back with as much patience as he could muster while the dwarf ransacked his belongings. He contented himself with looking around the dwarf’s workshop, studying the myriad tools and engravings littering the place. Not quite littering, Azerick thought as he adjusted his first impression. Everything was clearly organized, and not a speck of stone or dust gathered on the floor or tables.
Duncan finished looking at the last book and set it aside. “Where’s your spell book? All these books are on magical theory and such. Where’s the book you record your spells in?”
“I don’t have one. I’m a sorcerer not a wizard,” Azerick said, preparing himself to answer the inevitable question that was to come next.
Azerick was almost disappointed when the dwarf merely grunted instead of asking what the difference was like most everyone else always did. Instead, he waved Azerick to take a seat on the bench next to the table as he pulled out a stool from under the workbench and sat across from him.
“So what were you doing in our mines?”
Azerick had to look up at the dwarf since the bench was set at a height for a dwarf where Duncan’s stool was built to allow him to work over his workbench. “I was taking shelter in a cave when the entrance collapsed. I found a small passage farther back I hoped would lead me out.”
“Why didn’t you use the spell you used to free Togar to clear away the blockage?”
“I was too far back, and the cave was unstable.” Azerick replied.
Duncan raised one of his bushy eyebrows at Azerick’s answer. “Why were you so far back? Most humans would only go back far enough to get out of the wind or weather.”
Azerick scoured his brain for a plausible explanation, but he quickly realized the wily dwarf had cornered him.
“Stop yanking my beard and tell me what you were really doing in that cave.”
Azerick took a deep breath before answering. “A dragon came to the town I was staying in and stole some of my books and scrolls. I went to go get them back.”
“What happened to the dragon?”
“I was forced to kill it when it refused to return my things and tried to roast me.”
Duncan’s eyebrows rose until they nearly reached his tightly sweptback hairline. “You’re that accomplished a sorcerer to kill a dragon just like that?”
Azerick shook his head. “I got lucky. I was able to dislodge a large boulder above the cave’s entrance and crush its neck.”
“Bah, luck,” the dwarf waved off with his calloused hand. “We make our own luck in this world. It ain’t some random force pulled out of the ether at the whim of some god or unseen force.”
Duncan hopped off his high stool and pulled a carved stone disc about as wide as his hand out of a cubbyhole built into the wall. He stepped in front of Azerick, spoke a word, and waved his free hand over the top of the disc. Azerick was surprised to see several of the runes carved in its surface glow with varying intensities.
“You have an affinity for earth and air magic. That’s an unusual combination, especially for a human wizard, or even sorcerer I’d wager. Most of your kind tends to lean toward fire and air for the big flashy spells that scare the heck outta the common folks.”
Azerick shrugged his shoulders. “I have always felt drawn more toward the earth and stone than fire.”
“Why do think that is?” Duncan asked in a knowing voice.
“Stone is eternal. It does not bend or yield. It does not flare up in a spectacular sight then quickly fade away.”
“It may not bend, but it can be shattered if it is struck hard enough.”
Azerick stared back stone-faced. “You cannot shatter a mountain.”
The old dwarf nodded and replaced the stone disc back into its cubbyhole. “You know what a volcano is?”
Azerick nodded.
“Then you know that a mountain can destroy itself under its own pressure, destroying not just itself, but everyone and everything around it.” Duncan sat back down on his stool.
“I thought all dwarves disliked magic and did not use it themselves.”
“Yes and no. It will probably come as a surprise to know there are many forms of magic and many different sources as well. Dwarves make some of the best weapons and armor ever crafted, and occasionally we imbue them with powerful enchantments. We couldn’t do that if we didn’t have some kind of access to magic.”
Azerick listened intently as the dwarf explained.
“You wizards and such power your spells by drawing energy from what you call the Source, but that is a bit of a misnomer. That is merely a source of magic, not the source of magic. Dwarves and other races use magic that comes from the very earth and stone around us, and rune carvers store that energy in carved sigils. Druids power their spells from both the divine energies provided by their god or goddess as well as the natural energies found in plants, trees, and all living things in nature,” Duncan explained as if Azerick were his newest pupil.
“Can all dwarves use rune magic?” Azerick asked.
“Can all humans cast wizard spells?” Azerick’s face flushed. “No, it takes a special talent and affinity for the elements to be able to draw on its energies and store them in a rune.
”
“So the rune you carve is a spell form much like wizards and sorcerers shape with the Source,” Azerick stated as he began to understand the principal.
“Precisely. Stone is most often used as the medium to hold the runic energy, but most anything that can hold the shape can be used.”
“So is the magic permanent then as long as the rune holds its shape?”
Duncan shook his head. “Not necessarily. The energy bleeds out of the rune at a rate depending upon the power of the rune caster, with a few exceptions. When a weapon, tool, or some such is created to carry a permanent enchantment, a special rune is created to hold the magic in place, but it is a difficult process and limited in its use. I’ve carved runes to strengthen the doors and gates leading into our territory, but even those I have to replenish from time to time.”
“So what are you going to do with me now?” Azerick asked.
“Well, normally we would put you out the nearest surface exit with a swift kick to the arse.” Duncan grinned at his guest. “But I’ve developed an interest in that big book you brought with you. If you’re willing to accept, I would like to show you a bit of dwarven hospitality for a while so I can study it further. The snows are coming soon, and unless you planned on returning to Riverdale, you would have a tough time getting through the pass to the next human settlement.”
“I thought I had already experienced dwarven hospitality,” Azerick replied and rubbed his head where Togar had struck him.
“Naw, our hospitality involves a bit less kicking and a whole lot more drinking, but I gotta warn you about dwarven alcohol. It kicks harder than Togar’s boot!” Duncan said and laughed loudly.
“You say the snows are coming. Surely there are several weeks before the snows hit, even up here in the mountains.”
The dwarf shook his head with a look of concern. “The snows have been coming earlier and staying longer these last couple years. It’s a strange thing, and a bad omen.”
“What kind of omen?”
“Can’t really say for sure. All I know is the animals are spooked and there’s something wrong in the air. Maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s something. Whatever it is, we’ll keep down here to ourselves as we always have and let it pass over us.”
“If you are willing to teach me something of rune carving, I would be willing to share what I have,” Azerick agreed.
“All right then, let’s drink on it!”
The dwarf sprang from his stool and disappeared into another room, but he quickly reappeared with two jugs and two cups. He uncorked one of the jugs and poured a mouthful of a clear liquid into the bottom of both cups.
“This is how we dwarves seal a contract,” he explained and lifted his cup.
Azerick did the same, and at a nod from Duncan, they both downed the cup’s contents. Duncan slammed his cup down on the tabletop. Azerick squeezed his until he thought it would shatter in his grip as the liquid burned down his throat and brought tears to his clamped eyes. It felt as though his throat and stomach had been literally set on fire.
“You didn’t cough it up! I’m impressed!” Duncan crowed and poured an amber liquid from the second jug into both their cups.
Azerick desperately downed the beverage. The warm, heady beer slid down his throat and helped cool the fire the dwarf spirits had ignited.
“That is good beer,” Azerick told Duncan in a raspy voice.
“Course it is. The only thing dwarves do better than beat metal is brew beer and ale. Let me show you to a place you can bunk down while you’re my guest.”
Azerick’s head swam when he stood up and followed the dwarf through one set of rooms to another. A stuffed straw mattress lay on a stone slab carved into one wall. Thankfully, it was just long enough to accommodate Azerick’s size, but if he were two or three inches taller, his feet would be hanging over the edge. Duncan set his belongings on a table built into the other wall. A round hole had been bored through another wall allowing an impressive view of the city below and around him. Since there were not elements like strong wind or rain inside the mountain, windows were unnecessary.
“You go on and rest up here and we can talk more tomorrow,” Duncan offered as he pulled out a couple of wool blankets from a large cedar trunk and tossed them onto the stone pallet.
“Thanks,” Azerick replied and laid down, feeling the full effects of both the powerful liquor and his own exhaustion.
Duncan left his human guest to get some rest, sat down at his workbench, and began reading the ancient tome. The rune carver was amazed at the breadth of subject matter and history involving several of the races of this land.
As one of the few scholarly dwarves, Duncan wanted to study the book in its entirety, but that would take years to do properly, so he contented himself with skipping to the sections involving dwarven history, earth magic, and rune carving. The rune carver eventually closed the book with a grunt and pried himself away so he could get some sleep before the coming day.
A tapping sound woke Azerick from his slumber. He followed the sound and found Duncan seated at his workbench tapping a fine chisel with a small wooden mallet. Azerick peered over the dwarf’s shoulder and saw that he was carving a complex rune into a flat piece of stone. He was impressed at the deftness and assuredness of the rune carver’s strikes. The lines, swirls, and patterns he carved into the stone were every bit as smooth and elaborate as if he were penning a scroll with quill and ink.
Duncan blew away the stone flecks and set aside the hammer and chisel. He picked up the stone disc, held it at eye level, and examined every stroke. Seemingly satisfied, he set the carving down and spun about on his stool.
“You’re up! Hungry?” Duncan asked his guest.
“Famished,” Azerick replied.
“Good, let’s go get something to eat.”
Azerick followed Duncan out of his home and through another doorway. Duncan stopped at the edge of a large circular hole cut through the stone floor with a steel pipe running directly through the center of it. Azerick stepped to the edge, looked up and saw that the pole rose two floors up and three more down before terminating at another landing.
“Think you can handle a little slide?” the dwarf asked. “If not, we can take the stairs.”
Azerick shook his head. “I would rather risk the pole than walk all those stairs again.”
“That’s the spirit!” Duncan laughed gleefully before leaping out over the opening, wrapping his thick arms and short legs around the pipe, and zipping down at a speed that would have left Azerick’s stomach lodged firmly in his throat.
With a deep breath, Azerick leaned out and grabbed the pole, swung his legs around it, and slid down. He found the rune carver waiting patiently three floors down where another hole and pole waited several feet away to take passengers down the next five levels. After three slides down the poles, Azerick felt comfortable enough to begin to enjoy it. When they reached the ground floor a few slides later, Azerick had to ask Duncan more about it.
“What happens if someone hops on as someone else is coming down? How do you avoid accidents?”
“It’s the responsibility of the one on the lower portion to look up before jumping on,” Duncan explained. “Still, there’s been many a fight over dwarves getting knocked off their pole and falling a few floors.”
“Don’t they get hurt?”
Duncan shook his head. “Naw, not very often. Dwarves are made of pretty strong stuff; like the rock around them.”
Azerick took a closer look at the structure of the massive cone’s base as the pair stepped into the enormous cavern. He saw that the base was not uniform and smooth with the cavern floor like other stalagmites he had seen and asked Duncan about it.
“This is not a natural stalagmite is it?”
“Nope. It used to be the peak of the mountain we’re in now before it caved in. This entire mountain was once an active volcano. It’s calmed down and been dormant for at least a thousand years, but before it did, the whole
top fell in and made a nice place to carve out our homes. That’s why we got that big skylight way up yonder,” Duncan said and pointed up toward the large iris glowing with the pale morning sunlight.
As they walked down the worn paths acting as the dwarven city’s streets, Azerick noticed that he drew a glance from most of the dwarves they passed, but none stared openly or for more than a brief second before continuing with their own business.
The pair finally arrived at an arched doorway and stepped inside. The room beyond was full of dwarves sitting around stone tables and on stone benches eating, drinking, and carrying on a multitude of conversations in their rough and grumbling language. Many of the conversations took a momentary lull then quickly regained their previous clamor as Duncan and Azerick found a small, open table and sat down.
“Do you get many human visitors?” Azerick asked as he looked around the room. “It does not seem that anyone takes much notice of me.”
“No, we don’t get many at all. We’re not what you would generally consider hospitable, nor do we invite topsiders into our warrens much. Word travels fast down here, and just about everyone has likely already heard about you and why you’re here. We dwarves aren’t a curious bunch like humans and elves. A dragon could come and roost here, and so long as it didn’t cause any trouble, we would go about our own business rather quickly and not pay it any further heed.”
“How do you make the light in those globes?” Azerick asked as he looked at the round, glowing, blue orbs hung throughout the bar and cavern beyond.
The dwarf shook his head and grinned. “Human curiosity,” he mumbled. “Centuries ago, we found a phosphorescent lichen growing in one of the caves. We found a way to cultivate and distill it to make the glowing liquid inside of it. Now are you gonna badger me with questions all day, or are we gonna put our mouths to good use and get something to eat?”
Duncan waved to a passing serving woman and said something to her in his coarse tongue. She soon reappeared with two large platters covered in meat, sausage, eggs, and bread along with two tankards of beer. Azerick looked at his food with a bit of trepidation.
The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4 Page 57