Catalyst (Book 1)

by Marc Johnson

  Although I was accustomed to living inside a cave, the inside of the castle was far darker than I was used to. Torches burned sporadically along the halls, but didn’t provide enough light for me. The hallways and rooms were shorter and more compact than in either of the castles in Sharald or Alexandria, or the inside of the White Mountain, making it far more crowded than I was used to. I also had to duck beneath the arches, because everything was sized for dwarves.

  We moved past the common areas, heading to the more private parts of the castle. Guards eyed me, but didn’t stop me, since I was with Jastillian. Thankfully, I didn’t have to deal with them again. I was afraid I would lose control this time.

  All the buildings I had seen, while strongly built and well-constructed, were boring to look at, at least from the outside. But the inside of the castle was a huge contrast to the outside. It wasn’t stark and bleak, as I’d thought it’d be. I thought of what Jastillian had said about Eostar, and about the dwarves being more than what people saw on the outside.

  Instead of paintings and portraits, the dwarves used little statues made of rocks and minerals to depict great battles. In one gallery, there was a scene where dozens of tiny carved quartz crystals had been sculpted into dwarves. They fought larger Wasteland creatures made from limestone. The crystal dwarves held tiny weapons, and their faces wore perfectly carved expressions of pain or fury.

  Statues stood throughout the halls. Instead of dwarves, these were fantastical creatures. There was a topaz dragon with wings unfurled, an alabaster unicorn with front legs raised, and lastly, a gold griffon with a ferocious scowl.

  I stopped as we passed another room. It had a large shelf with many separate compartments. In each compartment were different minerals or rocks, all with labels clearly written in front of them. I recognized a lot of them, like gold, slate, clay, bronze, and silver. There were a whole lot more—including some I'd never seen or heard of before. A group of younger dwarves stood in front of the display as two adults tested their knowledge.

  “Come on, lad,” Jastillian said, jolting me out of my gawking. “I can give you a test later on the materials found in these mountains.” He chuckled at his joke.

  I tore myself away and ran to catch up to Jastillian. We reached the end of a hall, and there was a plain, wooden door with steam seeping underneath it.

  Jastillian opened the door and said, “This is where you can wash up and relax, lad.”

  Steam hit me and flowed over my grimy face. The warm, refreshing feeling caught me off guard. It seeped its way into my skin, and I sighed like I had just entered the heavens. In a large pool of warm water, a couple of naked dwarves were soaking.

  “What is this place?” I asked.

  “One of our bathhouses. Most of them are located in this building, but if you like, I can take you to one of the other rooms where you can wash yourself with a bucket and rag.”

  I chuckled. “No, this will be fine.” I lost my breath at the thought of warm water I didn’t have to create myself. “Thank you, Jastillian. I’ve never seen anything remotely like this. How did you create it?”

  “We didn’t, lad. We found a hot spring deep within the earth and routed the water. We dwarves need a hot bath after—” In a deep, booming voice, Jastillian sang, “‘Digging in the dirt all day, digging our own graves. Digging ‘til we reach the end, having our bodies lost in a maze.’”

  I scratched my head. “What?”

  Jastillian laughed. “It’s been awhile since I’ve sung. Let me give you some privacy. I know how some of you humans are with showing what the gods gave you.”

  “That’s all right, you don’t—”

  “Hey, you two!” Jastillian yelled.

  The pair of dwarves opened their saggy eyes and said, “Jastillian!”

  “We were wagering on when you'd get back,” one said. “I just lost.”

  “I wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for my friend here,” Jastillian said, slapping me hard on my back.

  I nodded in their direction, and they nodded back.

  “I hope you two don’t mind cutting your bath short,” Jastillian said. “I promised my friend here some privacy.”

  “He must have faced impossible odds to help you. Especially since you’re in those ridiculous clothes.” The two dwarves laughed at Jastillian’s expense. “We were just getting out anyway.”

  The two naked dwarves got up out of the pool, dried themselves, put on some clean tunics and breeches, and took their dirty miners’ clothes with them. “It’s good to have you back, Jastillian. See you around.”

  “You didn’t have to do that on my account,” I said. “I would have been fine if those two were in here.”

  “Nonsense, lad. It was the least I could do. I’m going to get out of these rags and get dressed. We have to look presentable for my mother. I’m sure she’ll be on our side and will wish to send help to Alexandria. The problem is getting the others to vote with us.”

  “How can we do that?”

  Jastillian played with his bushy beard. “As a wizard, you’re going to have to convince them Alexandria needs more help than the elves. Try to think of something persuasive to say.”

  I stared at him. I’d figured that he would do most of the talking. “Like what?”

  He wiped drops of condensation from his forehead. “The truth. Speak with your heart and you’ll convince them. Some of the people that will oppose us will be very vocal. Don’t back down from them. We still respect strength. If you speak from that position, people will listen to you more.”

  I nodded.

  “Good. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Enjoy your bath. Not many outsiders get to experience these baths, and even fewer get to enjoy them in peace. Hang up the towels when you’re done.” Jastillian smiled. “Have fun.”

  I took off my heavy wizard’s robe and boots, then my tunic and other undergarments. I crept into the heated pool, savoring every precious moment. I melted and moaned the second the water touched my skin. It was warm and comforting.

  I grabbed some sponges and washed myself clean of the trials I’d been through. While I scrubbed the dirt out from under my fingernails, I couldn't help but think of the princess and what she might be going through now. She was strong, but Premier was a wizard.

  I was thankful for Jastillian’s advice in dealing with other dwarves. Erlam’s ruling council was going to be a lot harder to convince than King Sharald. I wished I could have seen more of Erlam. I needed to get a feel for how the dwarves thought and what they cared about. The only thing I knew was that they didn’t care about me. That didn’t bother me. What bothered me was, did they care about Alexandria or the creatures from the Wastelands?

  I sighed and squatted down farther in the water, dunking my head in. I thought about the arguments the dwarves might have and how I could counter them. I wasn’t a diplomat or a politician or any good with words. I couldn’t do this. It wasn’t good enough to try. I had to succeed. I must succeed.

  I rinsed myself off. The now-brown water floated by and then circulated away, taking with it my thoughts and frustrations.

  When I was done cleaning myself, I leaned back against the edge of the pool and drifted away, becoming lost in the serenity around me. The purple bruises on my thighs didn't bother me, nor did my sore muscles. My exhausted body was at peace in the warm water. It wanted me to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t let me.

  I kept thinking about the girl who needed my help, the wizard who stood in my way, and the dwarves I had to convince. To calm my nerves and clear my mind, I practiced my magic.

  I latched onto the water mana, creating three gigantic bubbles in the pool. I used air to force them to rise out of the water. They hovered in front of me, and then I sent them flying around the room, bringing them to a halt before they hit anything and burst. I summoned them in front of me once more, then raised my hand out of the pool. A stream of fire came forth, popping all three bubbles.

  I created five more bubbles. I zipp
ed these around the room while I shot fire out of my hands. It was a simple exercise, but using more than one type of mana simultaneously always was a strain on the user. Often-times, you had to grasp the mana both from inside yourself and from the environment. It would divide your attention and concentration and burden your mind, will, and body.

  I crafted both the fire and the water into more complicated shapes as my exercise went on. Water in the shape of cats was chased down by fire dogs. Water flies flew by before being munched by a fiery praying mantis. The magic electrified the room, fire and water splashing and sizzling everywhere.

  I breathed heavily, letting the exercise clear my mind, focusing only on the magic and what I had to do to maintain it. I went faster, and my spells became stronger every time I thought of Premier and how he had mocked me and wanted to harm the princess. I got so absorbed that I didn’t hear Jastillian come in.

  “Lad,” Jastillian said.

  His voice broke my concentration, and my fire dissipated. The water in the air stopped dead before plummeting to the ground. Water splashed on my head. I wiped it from my eyes.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Jastillian said.

  “That’s all right. I was just performing some exercises.” I put a wrinkled hand to my throbbing forehead. The magic must have taken more out of me than I thought. I looked around the room, noticing that water had gotten everywhere. “Sorry about the mess.”

  Jastillian laughed. “Nothing to forgive, lad. It's only water and it'll dry up sooner or later. That was quite an impressive show you just put on. It never ceases to amaze me, the things you wizards can do.”

  Jastillian loomed over me, wearing short black breeches. They matched his gorget, and his tight red tunic showed off his muscles. The colors, combined with his size, gave him a commanding presence. His beard was also trimmed, now only down to his chest. But the most notable thing about him was the huge battle-ax strapped to his back.

  “You look good,” I said.

  “Aye, I must say it feels good to be cleaned, shaved, and have clothes that fit. But what really makes me feel good is to have some kind of weapon on me. Even though this isn’t my true weapon.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “Premier took my weapon!” Jastillian clenched his fist and growled. “I’m going to get it back, even if I have to pry it from his dead corpse.”

  “What’s so special about the weapon? Is it expensive or something?”

  Jastillian laughed. “No, lad. We teach that all weapons are special. They’re used to defend you, your home, and the ones you love. And that weapon was an ancient relic I got from the war and had repaired. It’s impossible to replace, and I went through a lot to get it.”

  “Were your wounds tended?”

  “Our healers patched me up well enough. I had to send them away when they wanted me to rest.” Jastillian frowned, and his right cheek muscle flexed. “I must warn you. After talking with my mother, it's going to be a lot more difficult than I thought to get our army to help. There will be…resistance. There will be those who oppose us. It's them you must convince. You must secure three-fourths of the table.”

  I knew I shouldn't have wasted my time coming here, but it was far too late to turn back now. “I'll do whatever I have to do to convince them to help me.”

  Jastillian smiled. “I know. Now let me turn around while you get dressed.”

  I was going to protest, but Jastillian was right about humans being bashful, at least when it came to me. Not having any clothes and having someone stare at me made me shy. I wasn’t that comfortable with Jastillian yet, and he wasn't a pretty girl.

  I got out, dried myself off, and put my not-so-clean clothes back on. When I put on my wizard’s robe, I inhaled its scent. It smelt surprisingly clean.

  Master Stradus once said a wizard’s robe is a part of the wizard, and the two become one. In time, I’d understand. Maybe the robe was clean because I was clean? Although it might have been because of the fact that it soaked up all the steam, and I had been in the room for a long time.

  I rubbed my wrinkly fingers through my slick hair and said, “I’m ready.”

  “Good, lad. Before the questioning, we’ll get to eat first. I’m sure you're as hungry as I am.”

  My stomach rumbled so loud I’m sure Jastillian heard it. “Just a little bit.”

  We left the quiet sanctuary of the bathhouse. Jastillian led me through the halls. We walked up a broad flight of stairs, passing four guards before we reached a set of large double doors carved out of granite and etched with the dwarves’ symbol. Jastillian opened one of the doors.

  The room was much larger than those in the rest of the castle. In the center was a large, circular stone table, and about two dozen well-armed dwarves of varying ages surrounded it. The room was surprisingly stark. I had expected it to be as richly decorated as the rest of the castle. There were no paintings, statues, or even banners. The only decoration was the dwarves’ symbol carved into the middle of the table, just visible under the platters of food.

  All heads turned towards us as we entered, and the conversation stilled. Jastillian led me to a seat on a stone bench, next to an elderly female dwarf.

  “Hello, my son,” the old dwarf said. Her short, thin hair was as white as snow. When she smiled, her face creased with wrinkles.

  “Hello, Mother,” Jastillian said. The pair embraced.

  Jastillian’s mother looked towards me. Her vital, dark blue eyes had that same piercing gaze as King Furlong had. I wondered if all military rulers had the same way of sizing a person up. I inclined my head. Jastillian’s mother was the only dwarf present who didn’t wear a huge weapon. She chose to carry a short sword sheathed at her side.

  “Hellsfire,” Jastillian said, “this is the leader of Erlam, Lenora.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I’m grateful you allowed me to come into your wondrous city.”

  “Thank you for helping my son, Wizard Hellsfire.”

  “Please, just Hellsfire.”

  “He shouldn’t be here,” said a younger dwarf with red hair.

  “That’s right,” another said with a fierce gaze. “There should be no outsiders here in the heart of Erlam at this time.”

  “He rescued me from a great and dangerous wizard,” Jastillian said.

  “Your point?” the red haired dwarf asked.

  “He’s a wizard. There hasn’t been one in Erlam for centuries. The least we could do is show our hospitality to him.”

  “Enough of this!” Lenora said, eyeing Jastillian and the red-haired one. “We will discuss this after we've had something to eat, as is our custom.”

  They bowed their heads.

  Lenora raised her ale-filled mug. Everyone did the same, and so did I. They slammed them hard down on the table. Nobody had warned me to turn my head away. I wiped some ale from my eye. The red-haired dwarf smirked.

  There was plenty of food on the table, but an overabundance of meat. Everything from boar and deer, to chicken, rabbit, and pig filled the platters. The aroma of roasted pork and grilled rabbit upset my stomach.

  I avoided all the meat, eating mostly potatoes, bread, and beans. The dwarves made a little small talk, but most were too busy tearing their food apart. Having traveled with Jastillian for the past few days, I had learned that dwarves ate this way to show appreciation for the food—not with words but with actions.

  I didn't get into conversation with any of the dwarves. Most glanced at me often, peering over their food. That was unnerving enough, but the red-haired dwarf, the one who had argued against my presence, never took his eyes off me. I tried to be polite and not stare back, but it was hard. He was one of the bigger and younger dwarves in the room. His clothes strained to contain his muscles. His red beard and hair added to the fierceness of his gaze. The more he stared, the angrier I grew. My fire started to build.

  I did my best to endure it, pretending I didn’t notice. I was an outsider, and I needed their help. I couldn’t affor
d to get into an argument. Luckily for me, dwarves also show appreciation for good food by eating quickly, and the food was good enough that the meal was not a long one.

  “Mother, if we may?” Jastillian asked.

  Lenora looked around the table and saw that everyone was finished. She ate the last piece off a pork shank and put the bone down on her plate. Then she nodded yes.

  Jastillian said, “All of Northern Shala is in grave danger.”

  Time seemed to stop as the whole room became quiet.

  Jastillian then told all the dwarves of his journey into the Wastelands, his capture, our escape, and of Premier’s plans to take over Alexandria. All eyes were locked on Jastillian. He had a teacher's voice, deep and thoughtful. It fluctuated with his emotions, and was never boring. In fact, he made the whole tale sound even more exciting than it actually was.

  After Jastillian was finished, one of the slightly older dwarves said, “I feared something was wrong in Alexandria.” She glanced to the dwarf who had stared at me through dinner. “We should have sent a party there as I suggested. The elves had the right idea, for once.”

  “Whatever you want to say, Artesia, you can say in front of Hellsfire,” Jastillian said.

  Artesia looked at Lenora. She nodded. “We've had problems with the Wasteland creatures, Jastillian. Extra patrols have had to be sent out to deal with them. They haven't been enough of a threat for us to worry that Alexandria has been overrun, but there've been enough to be an annoyance. Now you say they're just a symptom of a much more worrisome problem.” Artesia scanned the table and said in a loud, forceful voice, “We must mobilize our army to go to Alexandria and help them.”

  For a moment I was relieved. They wanted to send the army. This had been much easier than Jastillian had said it would be, and I hadn’t had to say anything. But my relief was short-lived. The dwarves started talking among themselves, until it all blended into a low rumble. I tried to get a read on them, but it was hard. All their voices and questions overlapped, and their expressions differed. A few seemed eager for battle and wanted to help. Others appeared worried, nervous, and a few were angry and hostile.