* * * * *
It had been several hours since Linaya had gotten her first glimpse of Boulder Gate. Still following the winding tunnels downwards, it was as if the city had been etched in her mind. Such was its beauty that Linaya almost felt ashamed asking the dwarves to leave such perfection behind.
Rounding what must have been the millionth bend, the cavern they followed widened and straightened out and before them stood the ground level of the dwarves’ capital city. Again Linaya was awestruck. From this vantage point the city appeared limitless. Each building climbed high into the heavens and she could not see the far side of the city. Carved façades beckoned her attention and she found herself staring at the intricacies of every detail as they walked. She smiled often, like a child might when presented with a treat, for the wonder of the foreign city held her enthralled. Statues of dwarves stood, twice as tall as she, wearing oddly fashioned armor and clothing, and bearing with them immense objects, weapons, or even others of their own race. Battles were depicted upon many a façade and Linaya would pause from time to time to try and get a better scope of what the artwork encompassed. Fortunately for her, Zorbin and Gumbi walked slowly, talking about times past, allowing her to catch up. Bridges filled the voids between buildings on many levels above Linaya and even upon the ground. Eventually Linaya realized that the bridges upon the ground level were not just for decoration for in the city of the dwarves an ice cold river flowed lazily, providing not only refreshment, but also a natural climate control for the dwarves. Everything about the city seemed flawless.
For more than two hours Linaya trailed behind the pair of dwarves, staring with a slack jaw at the immeasurable beauty of the city. Other dwarves rushed to and fro yet most seemed not to notice the human in their midst. Eventually Linaya began to believe that those who inhabited the city avoided gazing upon her purposely. It made her nervous and anxious at the same time. Why was it the dwarves feared to look upon her? Did she appear so ghastly to them that it sickened them to look upon her? Was it forbidden to look upon a human in the home of the dwarves? Perhaps they were trying to spare her any embarrassment but had taken the action to extremes. Linaya had no way of knowing. Generally most in a room would stare at her. The men would look upon her with lust in their eyes, and the women would scrutinize her and give her mean or distrustful looks. She had become so accustomed to such attention that the sudden lack thereof in a populated place felt wholly unnatural.
Before long, Linaya found herself looking at the inhabitants of the city instead of the city itself. What she found was just as wondrous as the home the stocky race of men had built. Dwarves, it seemed, came in as many shapes and colors as humans did.
Some were taller like Zorbin with broad shoulders and thick arms. Others were shorter, more bow-legged and with barrel chests and thickly muscled backs. More were smaller still, with less muscle mass and narrower frames. Yet all were easily recognizable as dwarves.
Just like the race of humans the dwarves came with a wide variety of attributes. Linaya witnessed every shade of hair from bright copper, to the brown of clay, to the black of deep rich soil. What caught her fascination was the fact that though all the dwarves she had seen had a hair color that occurred naturally underground, their skin was much the same as a human’s. If anything, Linaya would have suspected that dwarves would have been pale and pasty due to living below ground. The truth was that most of them had what Linaya could only describe as a natural tan.
Linaya noticed almost immediately that dwarven women were not at all like the stories she had heard as a child. They did not have beards like their men did, nor did they have sideburns or big bushy eyebrows. Linaya was presently surprised to find that dwarven women were not that dissimilar to human women. Like them, they were generally smaller than their male counterparts. Though short and stocky, what the women lacked in bulging muscles they made up for in bosom and bottom. Dwarven women might be short, but they were as curvy as a spring in a gnomish machine.
It was not until Linaya saw some young dwarven children playing in a fountain that she saw a notable difference between the dwarven race and her own. Whereas human children appeared much the same, regardless of sex until they hit puberty, dwarves’ gender was easily discernible at any age. Seeing the children playing, Linaya could not help herself but to pause in her trek behind those that led her, to stare once again at something wondrous to her. For here, playing in an exquisitely carved fountain, were two young boys and a girl. She imagined them all to be under ten years of age and yet both boys had a full, albeit short, beard and well-toned muscles. The small girl had breasts equal to that in size of Linaya’s own. She could not imagine what such a thing meant for the children. Were they sexually mature? Could they reproduce at such a tender age? Seeing the children left Linaya with a lot of questions, but she quickly reminded herself that an education on dwarven culture was not her priority here. The man she loved was in trouble. The land she called home was being invaded. Likely both were fighting this very moment, and here she stopped to watch children play. Linaya began walking anew and quickly caught up to Zorbin and Gumbi.
It was at this time, with Linaya’s focus renewed, that she and her companions turned between two giant buildings onto a wide road that appeared to run straight through the city to an enormous building at its center. Dwarves here moved in droves in all directions. To either side of the road Linaya noticed that the buildings were stores and shops and through open doors and windows she could see wares of every size and purpose. Though some items she recognized, there were yet many more that she did not.
Together they walked quickly through the market towards the center of the city. There Linaya knew would be the king of the dwarves and hopefully a meeting that could make her journey worthwhile. Though the streets were crowded, the trio made decent time and were halfway to the massive building at the center of the dwarven city when their voyage hit its first snag.
Though at first the encounter looked to be nothing of import, Linaya watched as a large brown-haired dwarf extracted himself from the milling crowd and stood directly in the three companions’ path with a smile. Linaya imagined him a friend of Gumbi, or even perhaps an old friend of Zorbin. Sadly she realized all too soon she was mistaken.
As her companions approached the dwarf who blocked their path, they slowed and instinctively Linaya fell back a pace. Something about Zorbin, directly in front of her, had changed. Something in the way he carried his weight, his natural demeanor, altered from one second to the next. The dwarf that opposed them scowled, spewing something in the dwarven tongue before jutting a finger towards Zorbin. Zorbin began a response, but the dwarf before them cut him short, shouting unintelligible words, though his meaning was clear. When the brown-bearded opposition stopped shouting, he looked first to Linaya, then back to Zorbin, and then proceeded to do the unthinkable. For reasons unknown to Linaya, the dwarf that stood in their path thrust back his shoulders and spat in Zorbin’s face. The ensuing moments Linaya would recall for all her days, as a city of pride and peace suddenly became a battleground of pain and prejudice.
* * * * *
Zorbin knew there were many in the city who would not look upon him kindly. Fact was, it was expected. Most who knew him, or even of him, considered him a traitor to their race. Honor was a part of dwarven culture, however, and as such Zorbin did not think he would find any major moments of contention within Boulder Gate. So it was that as he and Gumbi discussed current happenings within the city that he was surprised when Drummit stepped out from the crowd directly in front of him. He had anticipated seeing his cousin at some point, but not this early in their stay within the city. He had foreseen his cousin’s anger, but what he actually received was something out of the scope of Zorbin’s imagination.
“You do not belong here!” Drummit shouted in the dwarven tongue.
“I am here on business my…” Zorbin began before his cousin cut him off.
“You bring your human whore and parade about th
e city like a returning king, yet you are a traitor to us all!”
If his words were not enough, Drummit Ironfist, Zorbin’s own kin, spat upon him out of disgust. Such were the ways of dwarves that it was ingrained into each member of the society to respect all others, especially your elders. So honorable was the society that windows and doors had no locks, yet here Drummit ignored all he had been taught and everyone who witnessed his action was offended. As his relative, it was Zorbin who was accountable for Drummit’s behavior, even if he was also the recipient of the assault. A crowd gathered within seconds waiting to see just how the outcast dwarf would discipline his younger kin.
Zorbin did not hesitate. Stepping forward to close the distance between himself and his angered cousin, he raised his hand and backhanded the younger dwarf. Drummit did not so much as flinch. Though Zorbin’s strike landed true, and split Drummit’s bulbous nose sending blood to cascade down the dwarf’s brown beard and spray into his face, he showed no sign of realizing he was injured.
Instead Drummit did the unexpected again, and tilting back his head he closed his eyes and began to speak in a low monotone. Everyone in the crowd realized what he was doing, and before any could react, Drummit raised his hands to the heavens and a massive black hammer formed within them out of strands of rainbow-hued light. Before the hammer had even solidified completely Drummit brought it to bear, swinging it down over his head to strike Zorbin in a single blow. Fortunately for Zorbin, he had been trained to fight by the best Valdadore had to offer, and without thought he reacted by diving to the side and rolling back to his feet. Drummit’s hammer met the stone of the road with a crushing sound just as Zorbin exploded in size, calling upon his own blessing.
All of those among the dwarven race who prayed to Ximlin were awarded a blessing. All of those blessings had to do with their culture. Some were blessed with the ability to carve stone to perfection. Others were blessed with unbelievable strength in order to hammer and chisel through the mountains that made their homes. Every blessing given by Ximlin lent itself in some way to dwarven society, yet even so, some blessings could be used in battle as well. Drummit, it appeared, had received such a blessing. Though at the time that Zorbin was exiled his young cousin was yet unblessed, now he had been bestowed with not only strength, but also the ability to summon a magical hammer of some sort. Zorbin knew not his cousin’s limitations. However, neither did his cousin know Zorbin’s.
Zorbin found himself in a predicament as he dodged Drummit’s first blow and rolled to his feet again. For every offense his young cousin committed it was Zorbin’s duty to punish him, as his elder, to a further extent than was his crime. It was the only fault to dwarven culture really. For now that the fight had begun, the only way it could end was if the younger opponent took his punishment and relented, or the two traded blows until one was destroyed. The Ironfist family was not known for relenting to anything. Zorbin knew immediately that in order to complete his mission, he would have to kill his own cousin. The thought saddened him, but it was his duty, both to his king, and to his people. Zorbin steeled his resolve and called upon Gorandor. Pulling his battle hammer from his back the giant of a dwarf sworn to a human kingdom charged a blessed opponent not only of his own race, but of his own bloodline.
Though Drummit appeared the underdog in the fight, being incredibly smaller than his blessed foe, the fact was that for the most part the two dwarven opponents were near equal. Where Zorbin had experience swinging his axe in battle, Drummit had experience swinging his hammer in the mines. Where Zorbin had increased strength and size, Drummit had a magically summoned hammer that served two amazing purposes. The flat face of the hammer was made to smash and it also amplified its wielder’s force by tenfold, allowing the head to leave an impression a foot square in solid granite. The tapered end was designed to split stone in a single blow. Likely the first blow of the battle that landed would also be the last.
Charging his opponent, Zorbin was careful not to trample any innocent bystanders for fear of retribution. Unfortunately the caution cost him speed and when he finally came within striking range Drummit was ready for him. Both dwarven warriors squared off and swung their weapons. With his superior range, due to his blessing, Zorbin knew he had the upper hand and watched as his hammer arced through the air to crush his young cousin. Drummit swung his luminescent gossamer hammer as well, but not at Zorbin as those watching would expect. Instead he swung to deflect the giant dwarf’s blow.
The heads of both hammers met with unnatural force, causing an outcome that none had foreseen. Zorbin’s hands immediately went numb from the reverberations that climbed the handle of his weapon. Beyond that, nearly all gathered grasped at their ears, overcome by immense pain from the sound that resounded from the blow. The sound was like metal shattering, and many of those that were the closest now bled from their ears. Those however were only the minor results from the impact.
Upon impact, Drummit’s magical hammer had shattered Zorbin’s giant metal battle hammer sending large metal shards and shrapnel in all directions, the most immediately apparent piece of which found itself buried in Drummit’s own face. Just below the dwarf’s left eye protruded a wide piece of metal that tapered near its point of entry into his face. The eyeball above the wound had rolled backwards and now moved lazily, staring blankly towards the ceiling. Blood dripped freely from the corner of Drummit’s mouth as well as his nose.
Drummit remained standing for an unnaturally long time before finally his jaw muscles relaxed and released a deluge of blood. Then, as if finally overcome, his muscles seemed to spasm and Drummit collapsed to the stone road with the accompanying sound of the crowd’s combined sigh of disbelief. Others watching the battle had sustained minor injuries, the worst of which was a dismembered ear. Zorbin knew not what the consequences might be for killing Drummit, though he felt no shame in the act.
Not only had he been provoked, but he had been attacked. It had not been his wish to kill his fellow dwarf, but his duty. However, it was yet unclear if Zorbin would be treated as a dwarf in this matter, under the direction of dwarven culture and beliefs, or as an outsider who had murdered a dwarf in good standing within the kingdom. By killing Drummit it was likely that Zorbin had ruined any hopes of obtaining the dwarven kingdom’s aid.
Unable to contain his emotions, Zorbin stomped about the scene of the brief battle mumbling angrily and shaking his head. For many long moments the gathered crowd simply watched him, and made way for him if he came near. Apparently no one in the crowd knew how to treat the situation either. Zorbin stopped.
Looking around the crowd, he realized there were several present who were his senior yet none had stepped forward to verbally berate him let alone pass any other judgment upon him. Perhaps none here recognized him. Zorbin, not knowing what else to do, looked to his old friend Gumbi for the answers.
“I know what yer thinkin,” Gumbi said before Zorbin could even formulate his question. “Should yer actions become questionable I will defend them.”
“What do you suppose we do now?” Zorbin asked.
Both men looked to the horror-stricken Linaya whom they had temporarily forgotten about, and seeing her obvious disapproval Gumbi turned and pointed to a young dwarf in the crowd.
“Go and fetch a priest,” Gumbi ordered the boy, before gesturing to another young dwarf. “You go to the office of the council and tell them that Drummit Ironfist disrespected and attacked Zorbin Ironfist, the outcast of the same house, and was killed.” Then turning as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at all, Gumbi began to stroll down the road once more. Zorbin, taking his cue, motioned for Linaya to follow before striding off after Gumbi. Again the three walked down the busy street but now none of them spoke, each dealing with their own inner turmoil.
For more than an hour they walked on in silence as the center of the dwarven city grew nearer and nearer. Though Zorbin had many fond memories here in the home of his ancestors, they felt further and further away with e
very step he took. He was already an outcast to his kind, having shunned their traditions and beliefs. He wondered if he was even considered a dwarf any longer by those of his race. If not, then he was not only a traitor, but now a murderer as well. Whichever the case, he would know for certain in the hours to come.
Looming before the trio stood the central building in the vast dwarven city. Here was not only the residence of the king, but also the nerve center of the entire dwarven nation. Life-size statues of past kings surrounded the building and upon the outer wall the history of each and every dwarven ruler was depicted by a series of engraved scenes that read much like a child’s story book. Both Zorbin and Gumbi paused out of respect outside the main entry. Though the wide-arched doorway stood open, the pair of dwarves each dropped to a knee in front of the portal before rising to their feet once more. Linaya, as was becoming her custom, stared intently at the carvings trying to make sense of them all. Dwarves all knew the histories of each monarch. The carvings simply stood as a reminder that here the dwarven nation was ruled, in the same place it was once created.
Chapter Ten
Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) Page 115