Chapter 6: Thorin Ulfarsson
Elias ran for many leagues without stopping, until he was far from the village. When his side ached, he continued to walk as fast as her could. The weather was miserable, and a slow drizzle of freezing rain began to fall. He walked deeper into the forest, staying off the paths.
“I should have obeyed my grandmother the first time,” he thought. He would return the stone to the tree where he found it. After that, he would travel to the Elder Willow, as his grandmother had ordered him.
Elias was grateful for his wool cloak, which kept him warm even when wet. Elias was also thankful for the weather, because the rain would help hide his tracks. He eventually reached the clearing where he had found the stone over a week ago. As he walked towards the tree, he was surprised to see a boy on the ground, face down.
His curiosity overcame his fear, and Elias went to the boy’s side, tapping his shoulder.
“Boy—are you alright?”
The figure spun around in a flash and grabbed his arm. Elias was shocked to see that it wasn’t a boy, but a little man! A black-bearded dwarf, no more than four feet tall; his face wrinkled like an old potato. But none of his hair was streaked with gray. It was impossible to tell his age.
His eyes were like bits of black coal. “Who are ye?” he asked.
“I—I’m Elias! I’m here to… return something. I thought you were a boy.”
He laughed. “I’m a dwarf! Haven’t you ever seen a dwarf before?”
Elias shook his head. “No—never. Are you hurt? Why are you lying on the ground like that?”
“I fell from the tree. I was tryin’ to reach inside. My old bones don’t move like they used to. Dwarves don’t belong in trees, I’ll tell you that much.” He groaned and touched his forehead, which had a quickly rising bump. “Blast! I can’t wait to be gone from this freezing, miserable forest and back to Mount Velik!” He got up with some difficulty, and extended his hand. “The name’s Thorin—Thorin Ulfarsson—what’s yours, boy?”
“My name’s Elias,” he said cautiously. “What were you looking for? Can’t you see there’s a beehive?” The bees were buzzing slowly in the air, still coming in and out of the hole in the tree.
Thorin’s eyes lit up and he laughed. “I’m not afraid of bees, boy. A little bee sting isn’t going to affect me much—there’s precious little for them to go after!”
He had a point. The dwarf wore his long hair in a braid, and his beard was also pleated. Every patch of skin was covered with jet black hair—even his ears and knuckles. He was like a bear—only his nose, mouth, and tiny black eyes were exposed.
“So, you’re Elias, eh? Why, you’re almost a full-grown man!” Thorin clapped him on the back so hard that Elias coughed.
“Yes... I had my fifteenth cycle. H-How do you know me?”
“I don’t know you, boy. I knew your grandmother, Carina. She’s the one who sent me the message, and I came as soon as I could. I’m glad you’re here. It saves me the trip all the way to Persil.”
“Message? What message? My grandmother didn’t tell me anything about you,” said Elias with suspicion. Then he sighed. “But—she didn’t tell me much of anything—she always had her secrets. Thorin…my grandmother is dead. Soldiers came to our village this morning. They forced their way into the cottage and attacked her. She died trying to save me.” Elias sat down, putting his head in his hands.
“Ah, I’m sorry lad. That’s a shame. Carina was a fine woman.” Thorin patted Elias’ shoulder. “Your grandmother died an honorable death, boy. She was a friend of my people. She was fearless, too—one day I will tell you some stories. But there’s no time for sorrows. Do you have the dragon stone with you?”
“Y-Yes,” admitted Elias, startled. “I was trying to put it back where I found it. My grandmother told me to return it days ago, but I disobeyed her. I tried to sell the stone last week. The man I tried to sell it to—he’s a bad man. I’m certain that’s how the soldiers found out about it.” Elias’ voice cracked. “It’s my fault she’s dead.”
“Now, now… there’s no reason to be blamin’ yourself, lad. You couldn’t have known.”
“I’m just trying to be rid of it—the stone has been bad luck since I found it.” Elias pulled the stone out of his pocket and showed him. Thorin’s eyebrows went up, but he did not touch the stone.
“Aye, that’s a true dragon stone. Your grandmother asked me to come and get it—take it back to Mount Velik for safekeepin’. The plan was for me to take the stone back to our vaults. But I’m guessin’ our plans have changed.”
“I don’t know what to do. I’ve never traveled outside Darkmouth Forest.”
“Well, it looks like we’ll be travelling companions, then,” said Thorin.
“Okay.” Elias looked visibly relieved. “I can’t go back to the village… probably not ever.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. The reward for a dragon stone is tempting—the emperor offers a hundred gold crowns to anyone who brings him one. Times are bad, and neighbors can’t be trusted when they’re starvin’.”
“A hundred crowns!” Elias gasped. It was a vast fortune. “I should have just taken the stone to the emperor!”
“No, boy. Be glad you didn’t. It’s a fine bit o’ coin, but the emperor would spit you alive. You can’t enjoy a reward if you’re rottin’ in the ground!” Thorin examined the stone carefully in Elias’ palm. “Yup. A true dragon stone that is. Hide it securely. We can’t afford to lose it now.”
Elias shook his head. “Can you tell me what’s going on? I don’t understand any of this.”
“Don’t worry, boy. I’ll explain it to you in due time. Are you sure that your grandmother killed all the soldiers?”
“Yes—I‘m sure. The whole house went up in flames. No one escaped.”
“Good. That means it’s safe for us to make camp. It will be at least another four days until old Vosper can get more soldiers up to Persil, and we’ll be long gone by then. Your granny was always thorough, I’ll tell you that! What a woman! May her spirit live forever in the fields of Darthnell, enjoying all the spoils of the afterlife.” Thorin made a circular motion on his chest, and withdrew a gold amulet from around his neck. It was a pendant, set with tiny rubies, and it bore the image of a claw hammer. He kissed it, before tucking it back into his tunic.
“What is that?” asked Elias, pointing to the pendant.
Thorin held it up proudly. “This is the symbol of my clan, Marretaela. My people are honest folk; though not the biggest clan. We can talk more about this later. Right now, let’s go make camp. There’s a secluded cave a few miles north of here. We shouldn’t stay out in the open—there’s no sense in taking unnecessary risks. The sun will be going down soon, and we could have a fire started before then. It will be freezing tonight and we will need to stay warm. Plus, I’m not one for cold food. I caught a rabbit earlier that we can enjoy for dinner tonight.”
Elias nodded. “There are good mushroom beds nearby. It will only take me a few minutes to gather some. They will go well with the rabbit.”
“Aye. I’ll help you, boy.” They both walked to Elias’ favorite mushroom spot and collected handfuls of wild mushrooms, which Thorin wrapped into a piece of cloth and tied to his belt. “Let’s go now, before it gets much later. My mount, Duster, is grazing nearby. I’ll go get him.” Thorin returned a few minutes later with a sturdy grey pony. Elias reached out and patted his neck, and the animal responded by nudging him gently.
“He seems good-natured.”
“Aye. Duster has been my favorite for years. He’s wasn’t bred for speed—he was bred for endurance. He’s as sharp as a tack and doesn’t tire easily. The dwarves breed the best ponies and sheep in all of Durn. Our animals have vigor and fortitude, just like us!” Thorin slapped the pony’s side proudly. Duster responded with a loud whinny. The pony’s legs were shorter than normal, and thick; they were knotted with muscle.
“Do you know how to
ride, lad?”
“Yes,” answered Elias. “We owned a horse a few years ago, but Carina sold him because we needed money. I learned how to ride bareback; we couldn’t afford a saddle.”
“That’s fine. Tomorrow, we’ll head for Jutland. We’ll purchase a horse for you there.”
“Thorin, my grandmother told me that I should go to the Elder Willow. Do you know where it is?” asked Elias.
“Yes. I suspected she might have told you to go there.”
“Do you know why?”
“Not really sure,” Thorin said, looking at the ground. He cleared his throat. “The Elder Willow is a magical tree, and the groves surrounding the willow are guarded by various spells and tree sprites. It’s not an easy journey, and the grove is considered a holy place. If Carina told you to go, then we should try to go. The Elder Willow is a bit out of our way, so we’ll travel to Jutland first.”
“Okay… I just wish I understood what was going on.”
“Everything will make sense in time. In the meantime, you should collect some kindling for our fire. Gather as much as you can. It will be cold tonight.”
They were going to Jutland! Elias was excited. Jutland was the largest city in the Elburgian Mountains. He heard the village merchants talking about it often. There was a large marketplace, and many wonderful sights. Elias’ grandmother used to trade there, before her health failed. Elias had only been there once—and that was many years ago, when he was a child. He still remembered many of the sights and sounds.
Both started walking east, with Thorin leading the way. Elias kept himself busy collecting kindling for the fire. The dwarf hummed an old war song, but otherwise didn’t say much.
After a short while, they reached the cave. Elias would have missed it if Thorin hadn’t pointed it out. It was well hidden. The cave entrance was covered by shrubbery. “Here it is,” said Thorin. “I camped here last night. It’s a wee openin’—you’ll have to crawl in—but it’s larger inside. It’s a good spot, and warm. We’re far from the path, and concealed from the wind. We’ll sleep comfortably enough. You must get a good night’s sleep because we’ll be up before dawn. I’m going to get Duster settled, and I’ll be back.”
Elias crouched down and crawled into the opening. Once he got inside, he was pleased to see that the cave was large enough for him to stand, and it was roomy enough for two to sleep. Elias started to build a fire, laying the kindling in a little pile by the cave entrance. “Incêndio!” he said quietly, and the kindling caught fire. Thorin came back just in time to catch Elias using the spell.
“Using magic, eh?” said Thorin, as he poked his head into the cave opening. “You should learn how to build a fire properly, without magic. Magic is just a crutch.”
“You surprised me. My grandmother used to say that, too. She was a healer, but she rarely healed her own cuts and bruises. She said it was good for the body to heal itself; otherwise, it might forget how to do it.”
“Your grandmother was a wise woman.”
“Grandmother always told me to keep my powers hidden. I do know how to build a fire without magic. I use magic because it’s faster. Usually I hide it, but…. well… don’t dwarves use magic, too?”
“Aye. We have our own spellcasters, although the mageborn gift is rare in our people. They are healers, mostly, but we also have some metalsmiths that can forge magical weaponry. Our enchanted blades are unmatched. Even more powerful than elvish swords.” Thorin grabbed his pipe and stuffed it with smokeleaf.
Elias remembered the dagger that his grandmother had given him, and he pulled it out of his waistband. “My grandmother gave me this. I’ve never seen another one like it. Did the dwarves make it?”
Thorin examined the little dagger carefully. “Aye. This is a dwarvish blade. It’s enchanted, too. It’s a rare thing to see a human with a blade like this. I know the story behind it. Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes! My grandmother hardly ever talked about her past.”
“Alright, but first, help me with dinner. Then I’ll tell you all about it. I’ll find some branches to make a spit for the rabbit.”
“Okay, I’ll cut the mushrooms and dress the rabbit for cooking.” Elias chopped the mushrooms, skewered them, and placed them on hot coals to cook. He gutted and cleaned the rabbit, burying the entrails outside, far away from the cave entrance. He didn’t want to encourage any night time scavengers. Thorin came back with some sturdy branches, and lashed together a simple spit to cook the rabbit. A few minutes later, everything was sizzling over the fire, and Elias settled down to listen.
“Now, your grandmother was a fiery one! She spent time in Mount Velik during the Orc Wars. That was many years ago. She was one of the best healers we had—she saved many lives, human and dwarves alike. During one battle, I took a crushing blow to my left shoulder. Although my chainmail saved me, many bones were broken underneath. Carina set the bones and healed me; I was back in the fight the next day. She had a true gift, that one.”
“My grandmother fought in the Orc Wars?” asked Elias, incredulous.
“Yes, and the Dragon Wars, too. She fought the empire for most of her life.” Thorin sat back and puffed his pipe wistfully. “What a woman! It’s a shame she’s gone, lad. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” said Elias. He was genuinely surprised that Thorin knew so much about his grandmother. It seemed as if Thorin was talking about a stranger. “What about the story of the dagger?”
“Ah, yes. Well, as I said, your grandmother was highly regarded by our people. During the Dragon Wars, the emperor accused the dwarves of harboring fugitive dragon riders. It wasn’t true, but it was an excuse to attack us. My people fought back, withdrawing into Mount Velik. Vosper tried repeatedly to overtake the mountain, but he never succeeded. Eventually we prevailed, but we lost many good men. During the war, your grandmother saved the life of Dracan Lindisfarne, who was the only son of Hergung Lindisfarne, a clan king. Hergung honored her, and she was given this dagger as a gift. Hergung went on to become the leader of all the dwarf clans.”
Thorin flipped the blade in the palm, “This knife never needs sharpening, and it can never be forcibly taken from you, except by someone who shares your bloodline.”
“But Thorin, I handed the blade to you, and nothing happened.”
“Yes, but I’m not going to steal it!” said Thorin, wagging his finger at the boy. “The blade knows.”
“But how?” asked Elias.
“Magic, my boy. How else? Treasure it. It may save your life someday.” Thorin handed the blade back to Elias.
“I wish I understood what was going on. I haven’t had time to think—when I ran from the village, it was like a dream. I’ve never seen my grandmother do anything but healing spells. But today, she killed all those soldiers! I heard her yelling—but not in fear. She mocked them, even! Then I heard explosions and smelled smoke.”
“Your grandmother was gifted with healing spells, but she picked up other spells here and there. One of our dwarf mages, Arik, was infatuated with her, and taught her many incantations.” Thorin’s voice dropped and he cupped his hand to Elias’ ear in a embarrassed whisper. “It’s unseemly for dwarves and humans to carry on like that, but everyone knew that Arik was madly in love with your grandmother. Nothing ever came of it, though—she wouldn’t have him, either because he was a dwarf, or because she was already in love with your grandfather.”
“You knew my grandfather? I never met him. He died before I was born.”
“Yes, I met him, but only briefly. He was one of the other healers; a human mage like your grandmother. He died during the war. By then, your grandmother was already pregnant with your mother.” At that, Thorin grew quiet.
“My mother… I don’t remember anything about her. Did you know her, too?” asked Elias.
“No… not really. After your grandfather’s death, Carina left Mount Velik. She was pregnant with your mother, Ionela. I only met your mother once�
��and only briefly. I don’t remember much about her, I’m afraid.” Thorin paused. “Your grandmother suffered a great deal. First, she lost her husband, then her daughter. I’m sure she sacrificed herself for you because she couldn’t bear the possibility of losing you, too.”
Elias choked back tears. He decided to change the subject. “So… how did you know about the dragon stone?”
“During the Dragon Wars, most of the riders went missing. The majority were executed, but some defected to the other side, to fight alongside the emperor. These traitors were promised many things, including wealth and prestige. But in the end, they were all betrayed—after the war, the emperor killed all the dragons and their riders, even those who fought for him.”
“Why does the emperor hate dragons so much?” asked Elias.
“It’s not hate, lad. It’s fear. Fear of the prophesy.”
“How come I’ve never heard of the prophesy?”
“Each race on Durn has its own books of prophesy,” explained Thorin. “Vosper burned most of them, but he can’t access our libraries. In our book, the Kynn Oracle, it states that the emperor will eventually be slain by a dragon and his rider. So the emperor has done everything to try and eliminate the threat. When he burned Aonach Tower years ago, the vast libraries of the mage guilds were lost. But we dwarves have our own libraries. Our history remains unbroken. The elves have their own libraries, too.”
“So now only the dwarves and the elves know about the prophesy?”
“No. Many do—it’s only that the emperor has tried to keep it a secret. Even the orcs have an oracle.”
“The orcs? Really? I thought they were just mindless savages.”
“Savages, yes. But mindless, no. Orcs have their own myths and history, although it is unwritten. They have an oral tradition instead. Their teachings are passed down through the alpha males of each tribe. It has been thus for thousands of years.”
“How come I never learned any of this? And how do you know so much?”
“Boy—I’m a lot older than I look.” Thorin winked. “As for learning—well, the emperor works hard to keep his citizens ignorant.”
“Why is the emperor doing this? Why doesn’t he just leave the dragons alone?”
“The emperor is mad, and power-hungry. Vosper’s necromancers have learned how to extend his life and increase his powers. He has stopped aging. He is like a dwarf—he could live for hundreds of years. Vosper grows stronger with each passing cycle.”
“Did the dwarves fight against the emperor during the Dragon War?”
“Aye. We remained neutral for a time, choosing to wait. But then Vosper attacked one of the dwarvish cities in the west, razing it to the ground. We joined the fight after that. Thousands of dwarves died during the war, and the emperor drove us all into Mount Velik. Forced to work together, all the dwarf clans fought side-by-side. He could not defeat all of us. The emperor was never able to take the mountain. In the end, it was a stalemate. We stayed in the mountain, and the emperor retreated back to his capital.”
“Do all the dwarves live in Mount Velik?”
“Most of us do. Mount Velik is our last stronghold. There are some clans that have chosen to venture out again, and there is even a small dwarf outpost near the Death Sands. We do a fair amount of trade with King Mitca.”
Elias fell silent. This information seemed unreal—dwarves, orcs, dragons—it was too much for his mind to digest. He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself, shivering as a gust of wind entered the cave. He wished he’d never found the dragon stone in the first place.
Thorin sat back, contentedly smoking his pipe. His hand touched his head again, feeling a bump that had risen when he fell from the tree. “Ouch,” he winced. The spot was a purple, like a robin’s egg.
Elias reached out and touched the spot on Thorin’s forehead with a glowing finger. “Stay still. I will heal it for you.” Elias closed his eyes, absorbed in the spell. “Curatio!” The bump started to shrink, and the bruise dissipated. A few minutes later, it was gone. The effort tired him, and Elias sunk to the ground, exhausted. It had been a very long day.
Thorin felt the spot, amazed to find the bump healed. “Nice job, boy. I’m much obliged.” He smiled, “You’ve definitely got your grandmother’s gift.
“Thanks,” smiled Elias. “I’m glad you’re here, Thorin. Even if I can’t tell what’s going on.”
“Everything will soon be clear, lad. Go to sleep. I’ll take the first watch.”
The fire was warm, and the sweet aroma of the smokeleaf was comforting. Elias was asleep within minutes.
***
Dragon Stones (Book One in the Dragon Stone Saga) Page 7