Rena took a step back, overwhelmed by the idea. Her eyebrows fell, and her lips parted. She swallowed hard and turned to Bolt.
“Is my daddy in there?” he asked.
Rena said nothing at first but slowly began nodding her head. “Ye’ve got to be a brave little man, okay? Let’s go and tell yer pa we love him.” Fali stepped away from them, watching with a tear in his eye as Bolt laid his hand upon the mighty boulder. “Dorn?”
“I’m here, lass,” he said after some time.
The clandaughter nodded her head and swallowed hard. “I’ve got your son here. He wants to speak to you.”
“Papa?”
Those on the outside heard a sharp gasp and several desperate coughs. “Hullo, lad,” Dorn finally replied. “How are you doing out there?”
“I’m fine,” the human child squeaked.
“That’s good, lad. Now listen up. I know you’re scared, but you’ve got to stay strong. There are going to be hard times ahead, but I promise you, I will always be looking over you. Remember to always be good to people, even when you know you’re right and they’re wrong. And I… I’m proud of you already, boy. You’re the best damned thing that ever happened to me.
“Rena,” he called out then.
“I’m here,” she said.
“Listen, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“Dorn…”
“I want you to look after the boy. You’ve been a part of his life more than me, and you’ve always known what’s best for him. If you get a chance, tell Fali thanks for all he’s done for me these past few years. And Rena…”
“Yes, ye damned fool?”
“I’m sorry to say this, but I love you. I always have. Since the moment I first saw you.”
“You stupid, stupid idiot,” she cried.
“I’m sor—”
“Ye should have said something.”
A quiet pall hushed the area. “Well, I’m saying something now.”
The light metallic echo of boots echoed down the tunnel. “All right, let’s move aside,” Kieler said. “Broor and his boys’re on their way.”
Rena did as told, tears wetting her eyes. She grasped the child and tugged him backward, for the dwarven engineer and his apprentices nearly shook the tunnels.
“No,” Bolt cried. “No!” He ripped his arm away from her, rushing back to the boulder. “Papa!”
Everyone was surprised to see the sudden glow within the tunnel. A bluish, violet aura shot out from the boy’s hand, striking the boulder.
Without any resistance, the boulder launched forward. One dwarf lay sprawled out on the ground as the boulder sped down the remainder of the tunnel. As he struggled to his feet, Dorn stepped out from behind the other fallen rocks. When he saw his son before him, his eyes went wide.
“Papa!”
Dorn wasted no time stepping forward and embracing his child. With tears still in her eyes, Rena rushed to them both.
“So about that thing I mentioned,” Dorn said.
She could wait no longer. The lady dwarf grasped her secret admirer’s face and smashed her lips against his. When they parted, she smacked him on the side of the head. “I’ll kill ye later, ye fool.”
Chapter Four: The Brooding Storm
The children cheered at the tale of his rescue, and briefly, Dorn felt as though he were back within the mines beneath the Goldenscale Cliffs. Moisture built on the rims of his eyes, but a smile sat widely on his face. He lifted his body from the stool, his squat legs thudding to the ground.
To his side, a pronounced clearing of someone’s throat affronted him. He had long before grown familiar with that sound. Dorn turned, seeing the man leaning against a wooden beam, his arms crossed over his chest. Short, wavy black hair seemed to shine in the meager light of the tavern. His eyebrows were thick, and all who looked at him could see the way he arched them.
“They asked you why he travels with you, not why he became accepted by the dwarves,” he protested. “Surely you have time for that tale.”
“Aye, I would,” Dorn admitted. “But somehow, every time I tell it, the story gets bigger and bigger.”
The man stood up straighter, throwing his arms out wide. “Oh, come on, Dad!”
Many of the children in attendance giggled at Bolt’s insistence. Some cried out.
“Please! Please!”
Dorn sighed, the noise almost becoming a grumble. He hoisted himself back onto the stool and lifted his sleeves past his forearms. “I’ll tell the story,” the dwarf conceded, prompting his attentive audience to break into cheers and applause. “But you let me tell it, lad. Could be that we’ll be well on our way back home before it gets too dark.”
His eyes gently opened, drawn to the sunlight just outside. Dorn stretched, allowing a deep yawn to flee his mouth. That loud noise induced a response in the form of the feminine arm draping across his chest. The dwarf looked over, noticing his wife, cheerfully smiling, as beautiful as she ever was.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning, love,” Rena replied.
“How long have you been…?” Dorn began asking. He stopped when he noticed the lily in her hair.
“Long enough,” she teased. “Now hurry up. Yer breakfast’ll get cold.” Rena sprang from the bed, fully dressed. Her feet landed upon the fluffy rug situated squarely under the bed. “Don’t ye dare fall back asleep,” she warned. “I’ll be fixin’ ta make sure ye don’t wake up.”
He waved to her, watching as she opened the door. The sun shone in briefly, casting a golden haze across the floor where the fine fabrics of the rug met with the sturdy, exquisite stone.
Dorn rolled over, sprawling himself out across the bed. It was much too big for the two dwarves, let alone him by his lonesome. Still, his diligence along with his personal connections afforded him some luxuries.
Stretching one more time, he finally rolled to his side, landing his feet on the floor. Dorn grabbed a short robe from the corner of his bedroom and brought it around his body before stepping into the sitting room.
The eastern cliff was especially bright that morning. He could see through his window the luster of King Vaulen’s statue. His attention turned toward something much more precious.
“Good morning, Papa!”
“Good morning, Father.”
Dorn’s sons sat at the kitchen table, waiting patiently to begin serving themselves—no easy task with the assortments of delectable foods upon the table. Cornbread and butter gave off the most delicious aroma, while a plate stacked high with bacon sent steam wafting toward the ceiling. Dark juice sat in glass mugs, the last being placed before the head of the table.
“Good morning, lads,” Dorn said.
Rena circled the table, planting a large kiss right upon her husband’s nose.
Bolt groaned, but his younger brother, Eli, couldn’t hide his glowing smile.
“So,” Dorn said, sinking into his seat next to Rena, “what’s on the agenda today?”
“There’s no class for us today,” Bolt said. “I was thinking about joining you in the mines.”
“And what makes you think I’ll be heading to the mines at all?” Dorn asked. He broke a piece of cornbread in half, dipping it in the thick syrup on his plate. “I was thinking about heading way down to Galliwan Lake and just relaxing with a fishing rod by my side.”
“You know you can’t leave your other son in school while you’re off in all your merriment,” Rena protested.
“I don’t want to go to school today,” Eli said, his smile still bright and beaming.
The youngest of Dorn’s family, Eli was always filled with an indomitable mirth. Whiskers framed the young lad’s face, darkest along his jaw. The nine-year-old hadn’t yet grown into his burly body yet, but he was already known to his peers for his strength of character and his tremendous force of will.
“Lad, you know very well how I feel about your schooling,” Dorn said. “If you don’t go to classes, y
our mind will become lax, and you’ll end up way down in the mines.”
“And you know what happens then, don’t you?” Rena asked. “Babayan will snatch ye from out of the shadows and bring ye to her roost. She’ll feed ye to her chicks, and that’ll be the end of ye.”
“Aw, I’m not afraid of some ol’ harpy, ma,” Eli protested.
“Aye, I suppose ye wouldn’t be,” Rena replied, smiling. “Then do it for your father. Gods know he doesn’t wanta see yer brain turn ta mush.”
That smile faded just a little bit. Eli grabbed a handful of bacon and shoveled it into his mouth.
“All right then, son,” Dorn said, following a large gulp from his mug. “I’ll bring you with me today. But don’t let Thurgan push you into digging. You’re my lad, not his, okay?”
“Aye, Father,” Bolt replied.
A fluttering little sigh left Rena’s lips. She looked out the window, noticing the approach of a family friend. “I don’t think ye were gonna have a chance to visit Galliwan anyway, dear. Fali is on his way up the road as we speak.”
“That impatient lout,” Dorn said, chewing off one last piece of his syrup-soaked cornbread. “He always thinks we live much farther than we do.”
“Well, what’s a dwarf that doesn’t eat, breathe, and sleep belowground?” Rena mocked.
“Happy,” Dorn said, grinning as he stood from the table.
She rose too, circling around the table again. As she reached Dorn’s side, she embraced her husband and her eldest son. “Be good today, my boys.”
Dorn squeezed her tightly, smacking his lips against her cheek. As he separated from his wife, he tugged lightly upon Bolt’s shirt. “Come on, lad. Let’s see what your Uncle Fali needs this early in the morning.”
They moved toward the exit of the cottage where Dorn hopped into a pair of britches. He discarded his robe, replacing it with a fine tunic colored like the dirt path that opened up from the southern door to his home.
He and Bolt slipped outside and turned west. From there, they could see the huge effigy of their ancient leader more clearly. Fali saw them too, and raised his arm high.
“You can’t let a dwarf eat breakfast with his family anymore?” Dorn called out.
“Ye didn’t have to stop eating on accounta me,” Fali countered. “Although, it would be nice if I was invited for a bite from time to time.”
Bolt chortled to himself. “I don’t think our cupboards run deep enough.”
Dorn tapped his son on the side with the back of his hand. “As we get older, the tales of your insatiable appetite are becoming more widely known. I’ve got growing boys to feed, and one just won’t stop,” he yelled to his friend.
A sheepish grin crept to Bolt’s face.
They drew closer, the beards on their faces lifting with their lips. “Good to see you, old friend,” Dorn said, extending his arm.
“Bah, it hasn’t been that long,” Fali teased. He returned the gesture, pulling his friend in for a tight embrace. After he separated from the dwarf, he moved on to the adolescent human. “How are ye, lad?” he asked, accepting a hug from him as well.
“Well enough, Uncle.”
“Right, well… I’ve got a story that’s suren to shake ye both a bit,” Fali insisted. “The caravan I been travelling with, we was attacked by harpies on our way back from Windsor.”
“Attacked by harpies?” Dorn asked. “When’s the last time that happened?”
“Bah,” his friend replied. “We haven’t seen those blue-winged bitches for the better part of two decades, I’d reckon. But these ones… they came at us like we was made of gold. And they were gone afore anybody knew what was happening.”
“Was anyone hurt?” Bolt asked.
“Just startled a bit,” Fali insisted. “They pushed us around a bit and tore up a few wagons something fierce, but no one’ll stay injured.”
“Why would they attack you and just leave?” Dorn wondered.
“I couldn’t tell ye what goes on in the minds of that fine feathered flock. All I knows is that by the time I got me crossbow at the ready, they was already back in the sky.”
Bolt crossed his arms and passed his uncle an incredulous stare.
“Bah, so it’s not all that good of a story anyway,” Fali said. “What have ye got going on that’s so damn exciting?”
Dorn spun his friend around and resumed his westward travels. “I’m taking my boy to the mines today.”
As they began to cross over the rope bridge that connected the two cliffs, Fali looked back at his friend’s son. “And why would ye want to go to that cramped-up place? We built yer family a nice cottage up here so ye wouldn’t have to hunch over.”
The young human wasn’t listening to the dwarf’s words. He peered over the edge of the bridge, staring all the way down. Between the two cliffs, a shallow river ran south. The Thunderfury Dwarves spoke of the legend of the place often. Vaulen settled his people there because the ancient dwarven hero, Bronn the Clanless, had split the earth there with his mighty axe to give their clan a home.
Bolt couldn’t focus on the memory of those tales for long. With every step the dwarves took, the bridge shook to and fro. He continued to cross, speeding his pace to catch up with his father.
Fali looked forward, bracing himself on the braided railing. “I still don’t get why ye don’t travel with the caravans, Dorn. That job was made for ye, and ye know in a heartbeat they’d make ye a boss.”
Dorn kept walking, glancing up toward the massive statue as his feet landed upon solid ground once again. “I’m not keen on leaving my family here, and the gods know I can’t take them with. Even though Bolt is nearly done, Eli is going to be in school for quite some time yet.”
“Well, ye can always reconsider,” Fali said. “I know ye’d rather be working on top of the dirt than under it. And of course, ye always have yer connections.”
“A fact I try not to abuse too often,” Dorn insisted.
The group proceeded on, passing the statue of Vaulen on their right. A pair of black crows leapt from the hammer, flapping their wings as they dove into the ravine. Bolt watched them fly and arched an eyebrow. As the dwarves turned to move down the tunnels, another stocky fellow appeared.
“Ah,” Thurgan said. “Just the folk I was looking for.”
“You were expecting us?” Dorn asked.
“Well, not ye specifically. I heard our friend here had returned.”
“Ye on about the harpies?” Fali asked.
“Well, I was actually hoping to see if ye had any of those famous Windsor hops you might have accidentally set aside just for me,” Thurgan said. “But now that you mention it… was Lund with ye and your caravan?”
Bolt scoffed at the mention of that name. He bent down, nearly kneeling upon the ground as he picked a single blade of grass and plucked the head from it.
Fali nodded, patting the human on the back. “Damn that boy. Worse than his father, from what I’ve seen.”
“That may be,” Thurgan said, “but Humber managed to get some fairly important task in the hands of his son.”
“Oh?” Dorn asked, furrowing his brow. “What do the rumors say?”
“Heh, ye wouldn’t believe me if I telled ye,” Thurgan boasted. “Let’s just say it’s part of our history and the harpies alike.”
“Ye can’t mean Stonemaw,” Fali said, prompting everyone in attendance to glance up to the statue behind them. Even the human rose and brought his hand above his eyes to combat the shimmer of the stone. The fabled hammer in Vaulen’s hand shone in the sunlight. All eyes turned back to Thurgan, who merely shrugged, though he wore an impish grin.
“Well, whatever the case, we’ll all find out soon enough,” Bolt offered. When he saw the dwarves’ curious glances, he lifted his chin toward the west. “Here comes Lund and his caravan now.”
“Bah, ye couldn’t see that far,” Fali contended.
“You’re forgetting, Uncle,” Bolt said, grinning from ear to ear, “
I’m much taller than you. Besides, I’d recognize that horrid blue vest anywhere.”
Sure enough, after several moments passed, the wagons came into view. Pairs of mules led the vehicles with dwarves in the drivers’ seats. Shortly after, the caravan’s guards could be seen, Lund among them.
“Now we get to put the rumors to the test,” Dorn said. Thurgan nodded, rubbing his hands together eagerly.
Time passed slowly, but the wagons rolled ever closer. Fali took a step forward, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed. “Something ain’t right,” he declared. As soon as the words left his parted lips, a skyborne screech proved him right. From the crown of their ancient king, a pair of wings spread wide. Blue feathers jutted outward and grew larger as the creature dove upon the unsuspecting dwarves.
The harpy drove her talons into Fali’s shoulders before he could produce his weapon. She grasped his head with her hands, her long, slender fingers pushing through his braided hair. Blue feathered wings were bonded to her arms and nearly wrapped around the diminutive fellow’s body. He was slightly distracted by his sudden opponent and didn’t immediately realize his entrapment or the claws of the harpy’s birdlike feet digging into his muscles. Rather, he was mesmerized by the creature’s naked, supple breasts just inches from his face.
He wasn’t forced to struggle against that view for long, for one of the harpy’s claws was forcibly ripped from his shoulder, inducing a groan of pain from him. The feathered female screeched in shock as she was wrenched backward and slammed into the ground. Dorn still clutched her leg tightly. As the harpy toiled to rise, a weapon fell instead. Thurgan descended upon her with his axe, the crescent blade landing within her abdomen. One last attempt was made to shriek in protest, but blood spurted from the creature’s mouth instead.
Fali turned to offer thanks to Dorn, but he was already hurrying west.
“Bolt!” he cried.
Son of the Storm Page 4