by P. G. Thomas
John pointed to the wall, “Are they supposed to be Zack?”
“That is a short story, but yes and no.” Then Aaro headed to the meeting room.
Gayne looked at the painting, turned to Mirtza, “Where are our images?”
“Maybe they ran out of paint?”
Steve, the last to follow, was unable to believe the massive lifelike painting, which dwarfed him, providing proof beyond all else, that the story John had told was true. As he entered the meeting room, the Master Weapon Smith barked out several orders to the gathering dwarves, and then he closed the door.
Aaro looked at the group, attempted to speak, but no words came forth.
“When a dwarf is speechless, this is not a good omen,” said Bor.
Before he could continue, the door opened, and Fodu with Fen entered. Following them were three dwarves, one carrying a tray of mugs, and two struggled with a large cask of dwarven ale. Aaro walked over to the keg, poured himself a drink, and sat back down. One of the young dwarves stayed behind, filling all of the mugs before leaving.
Bor reached for one, raised it up, “Ironhouse!” Then all in the small room did the same, even Steve whose expression was one of awe.
“We have many great problems,” began Aaro. “Your return, I do not understand. You have brought a new friend?”
“This is Steve,” and then John smiled, “Steve, I’m pleased to introduce you to my adopted dwarf clan Ironhouse. This is the Master Weapon Smith, and these are his brothers, Bor, Fen, and Fodu.”
Bor ran his hand down the long beard rope, but on his arm, they saw a freshly dressed injury with a large red dot in the middle. Fen was still bald, beardless, and massive, but he looked leaner, as if he had experienced hard work over the last years. Fodu, having trimmed his beard considerably, had hundreds of small nicks and scratches on his hands and arms. Steve nodded to the four-foot tall dwarves as each nodded back.
Aaro looked back to John, “Does he know all of your names, Earth Mother.”
“If you’re going to call me something, call me the Unchosen, or Chief Council, hell, even the Tester of Gravity.”
“I will call you dwarf, call you brother, as Ironhouse you were first,” replied a smiling Aaro.
“I told him everything I could in eight hours, so he knows most of what happened the last time.”
“Enough!” exclaimed Lauren.
Aaro turned to her, “Tell your story now.”
Trying to start, the names of her missing daughters formed in her mind, causing tears to well up, and the four dwarves saw the story of pain written on her face.
“You remember how John opened a portal to take us home?” began Ryan. “Somebody used his—they used his magic and stole our daughters. Somehow, it brought us back.” As he said it, Lauren tightly squeezed his hand. Ryan turned to Aaro, “We were hoping you could help.”
Aaro blinked, “Rage Heart and Earth Mother. Unite you did?”
“Who’s Rage Heart?” asked Ryan.
“The bards did not like your first name,” began Bor, “so they changed it from the Unnamed to Rage Heart.”
“Okay, so yes, Lauren and I were married, and we had three daughters. Something happened, and they’re here in Calicon.”
When there was a knock at the door, Bor went over, talked with the dwarf on the other side, then turned, “The grat hall this night we open, and celebrate legends, we will.”
Lauren looked down to the ground, “I can’t go. I’ve nothing to celebrate with my daughters missing. Until I find them, nothing else matters. Can you help us?”
Bor looked to Aaro, who nodded his head. Then he turned back to Lauren, “Ironhouse. The call to help we always answer. Help you we will, Earth Mother.”
“Please don’t call me that, I’m just Lauren.”
“Did you leave you Earth Guard behind?” asked Aaro.
“We’ve only been here five days, and I don’t know if Mother’s even aware that I’m here, but I can’t feel her presence like I did before we left. Right now, Mother and Earth Guards are unimportant. I need help finding my daughters.”
“You will have help,” replied Fen. “How we can, we shall discuss that this night, but brothers Ironhouse cannot go with you. Our lands are trollmare invaded. Aaro, Master Weapon Smith, craft new weapons. Fodu is now the Master Armorer, and demands on him are great. Bor is pulled in two directions; our warriors he trains, and with Aaro forge coupled, guiding our clan is his second burden. From the bellows I have been freed, but I also have a new role, Master Apprentice, teaching the many junior smiths junior.”
The group all looked at Aaro. “Ironhouse will help. Right now, I do not know how, but we cannot break tradition. We will open the great hall this night, celebrating both your return and sorrow. Bor, tell all this night, Celebration of Sorrows we will hold, but banish all joy and laughter from those who attend. Preparations we need to make, so you will stay here till then, and we will return shortly.”
As the four dwarves stood, one more did the same. “I have a favor to ask of the Master Weapon Smith.” Eric was dwarf, and he knew the importance of traditions, “I would like to borrow Tranquil Fury and the armor. I know they aren’t what they used to be, but they’re still dwarf-forged. I’m unsure what’s going to happen, but if something does, I would feel more comfortable with that sword in my hands.”
“When done, I know you will return them,” advised Aaro, “so borrow you may,” and then the four Ironhouse brothers left the room.
As Eric went to the sword, Steve followed, who had seen it when he first walked into the room. “I’ve seen some big-ass knives in my day, but this thing is massive.”
“You should’ve seen it last time when Tranquil and Fury were part of it. Now, it’s just a sword, best damn sword ever crafted.” Walking over to the armor, he caressed the dark black metal. Smacking the back of one of the metal gauntlets with his hand, it caused the spikes to project out, and hitting it a second time they retracted.
“Your little friends,” Steve said. “You know, four feet tall, beards two feet long?”
“They aren’t my friends. They’re my dwarf brothers.”
“New kid here, so cut me some slack. Did they sound different?”
“It has something to do with the translation ointment. John or Mirtza could probably explain it better than I can.”
“What’s translation ointment?”
“When we reset your legs, we applied it so that the servants would quit staring. Like I said, go ask John or Mirtza.”
Steve walked over to Gayne, Logan, Mirtza, and John, who were involved in a conversation.
“I was hoping,” John began, “that Fodu might be able to go back with us to help on the machine, but from the sounds of it, that isn’t going to happen. We might have to strip off some of the components to bring them back here, but they seem pretty busy. Are the trollmares really that bad?”
“What’s a trollmare?” asked Steve.
John shrugged his shoulders, “We never saw one last time. All we heard was they were one of the reasons the eastern clans fled their mines. That Bor killed one, and the elves saw them. The dwarves called them something like the creature forgotten. They talked about a really fast evolution, too fast to be natural, but I’ve no real knowledge of them.”
Gayne nodded, “There is not much that I can add. The attacks began about three years ago, maybe more. Information was slow to arrive because the attacks were so brutal, few survived to warn others, but that was before they started going after larger towns. At first, nobody knew what they were, but then they began to attack during the day. Some settlements fortified, others just fled, and Mother even told the Newland farmers to flee. We had some of our students try to craft amulets that might be able to fight them, but with the few reports we heard, we could never determine what they were exactly, as every story was different.”
An hour later, Ruby Ironhouse, the wife of Aaro opened the door, “Your rooms made ready we have. Take them to y
ou now I will.” Even for a female dwarf, her quiet voice was thick, which filled the small room. She walked over to Lauren, “Husband told me of your sorrow of daughters missing. Worry not for Ironhouse will help. Clan leader they may call him, but steer him in direction proper I can.” Then Ruby led them to the guest quarters. “Room at end yours to use, and food there you will find. Storm outside so terrace avoid you should.”
Once in the meeting room, Logan walked over to the terrace door and opened it. Outside, a torrential downpour obscured the mountains, lightning dancing across the skies, and thunder echoed in the mountain valleys. He quickly pulled the door shut, walking over to a pot of hot bean juice.
Ryan, having filled a plate with an assortment of foods, was sitting with Lauren on the far side of the room, encouraging her to eat something.
Selecting items from the buffet, the rest gathered at one of the larger tables.
Eric, inspecting his food, looked at John, “So what now?”
Rolling up a slice of cooked meat, he took a bite out of it, “I was hoping that Aaro and Bor would be able to go with us, but that’s not going to happen. They said they would help, so let’s wait to see how.”
“When you used your portal machine to get back,” Steve began, “how did you end up at the diner?”
“The bracelets require a unique mineral component to identify the desired location that you want to travel to. That’s how we arrived here at the Ironhouse Mine, as Mirtza had found a distinct rock in the stables. To find our way back home,” John explained, “I used a piece of the pavement that had followed us here. I examined it five years later,” then he paused, “I guess next year. It had a unique blend of asphalt and stones from a nearby quarry, which had made it unique. If it had been regular pavement, I don’t know if it would’ve been able to key in on Earth.”
“That’s a long highway, yet you returned to almost the exact spot that you departed from?”
“What’s your point?” asked John.
“I would’ve thought it would’ve opened at the same spot this time, but how did it find Lauren or us?”
“I’ve been thinking about that, but I’m uncertain because the bracelets always seemed to key off of a mineral.”
Steve selected a round pickled object from his plate, “Maybe it has some sort of DNA locater?” Then he popped the abnormal item in his mouth and chewed it.
After he had swallowed it, Logan asked how it tasted.
“Not bad, Kid, a little chewy. Why?”
“Just never ever seen anybody eat a pickled eye before.”
Picking up a second, Steve turned it around, looked at the iris, and popped it into his mouth. “You should do a few tours overseas.”
John pushed away his plate, “It’s possible since the magic has intelligence, but I don’t understand how lightning activated the machine a second time. I had to amp it with a lot of magic.”
“Well, you said magic is in the air? Could an electrical discharge attract magic to it?” Then Steve popped a different pickled delicacy into his mouth and began to chew. After swallowing it, he offered one to Logan.
“What is it?”
“Pickled testicles.”
Grabbing his plate of food, Logan went over to sit with Lauren and Ryan.
John nodded, “It’s plausible that magic charged lightning caused it to send out some sort of signal, but I can’t explain how it found us, or how the electrical strike there aided in our transference.”
“So what next?” asked Mirtza.
“I need to talk with Fodu to see if he can build me new kites and sew a new cloak. Then we should go to Alron to see if Zack is still there and will help. Stopping off at that forest is also a good idea, maybe Mother left us some gifts, or Logan can find Sister.”
As the door opened, Bor walked in. He looked at Eric and John, “Brothers, the day is young, and preparations take time. More words I need to hear, and I have much to show you, so you will follow.” When Eric and John stood, Steve asked if he could join, which Bor agreed to. As they walked down the stairs, Bor began, “With Aaro I talked. Said share with John, as maybe he can provide insights. You unlocked the mithril secrets, so maybe you can pick more.” However, his mood seemed more reserved than they both remembered.
Leading them down past the stable level, Bor then headed to a new section of the mine, which neither had been to before. Walking through the large hall, numerous dwarves passing them looked up at Eric in awe, all knowing the Champion of Tranquil Fury had returned. Walking up to one door, Bor opened it revealing a dozen strange inanimate beasts, and another dozen stuffed heads mounted on the walls. “Dwarf threat greatest, trollmares. Cost to dwarf, great it is, but our opponent we need to understand.” Wandering around the room, Eric, John, and Steve looked at the strange beasts, but no two were the same. While the smallest stood about eight feet tall, the longest was almost twenty feet. Long furs covered some, others had short furs, some had scales, or bare skin, and one even had wings.
There may have been a time when Steve thought his alleged kidnapping was some sort of prank, but staring at the creatures from nightmares, he realized that not only had he gone through the looking glass, and down the rabbit hole, but he had also arrived into a meth addict’s hallucination.
John, completely shocked, was unable to understand the chaos between the different beasts. While some walked on two legs, others had four, but one had six, another eight. He could spot no common family traits between any of them, other than mouths full of sharp teeth and claws.
“Bor, how did you kill them?” asked Eric.
“We cut off their heads, as nothing else would stop them, and trust me, brother, we looked for ways many. Our traps they broke. Metal snared, they chewed off their legs. Metal rope, broke it like thread.”
“How many dwarves died?” asked John.
“The Saga of Trollmares is great. The bards, their words are written in dwarf blood. Much they need, and much spilled there already is. For each trollmare you see, fifty legends were birthed.” Bor pointed to the one that was twenty feet long, “One hundred legends born.” Then nodded to the one with wings, “Three hundred legends.” Bor was looking down to the ground, and then he regained his composure, “Fight they want, dwarf will answer. Change, adapt, words forged by dwarf, not trollmare. From our forge, victory we will birth. You will now follow me.”
In the next room, Fodu waited for them beside a cage with a live trollmare. It walked on six legs, looking like a large grizzly bear, having long horns on its head, and a tail that ended with a spiked ball. Mithril chains held it in place inside the cage, but thrashing back and forth with so much force, the cage threatened to break free from the mithril bolts that anchored it in place. On the far side of it stood six dwarves, and around the room, a hundred more stood ready, armed and armored in mithril, with large polearms resting against the wall behind them. As they walked over to Fodu, Steve looked behind to the exit where six dwarves pushed the thick, heavy rock door closed. As he watched, they turned a large wheel that drove four metal arms deep into the floor, ceiling, and walls.
Fodu walked in front of the caged beast, “We thought this one mortally wounded, and brought it back to study, but it healed. It will not feed or drink.” He nodded to the dwarves on the other side of the cage. One pulled what looked like a silver hoodie over his head, adding silver gloves that went up to his elbows. Advancing to the cage, he stuck his arm between the bars. Eric, Steve, and John turned away in horror, but when they failed to hear blood-curdling screams, they looked back. Two dwarves were holding the first steady, and the beast had clamped down on his arm, which looked like it was trying to rip it off. Even though its strength was great, the determination of the dwarves anchored them steadfast against the raw ferocity. Picking up a mithril tipped spear from the floor, a fourth started to stab the beast until it let go. John, expecting to see a bloody stump, ran over, but when the dwarf pulled off the silver gauntlet, his arm was intact and without injury.
&
nbsp; “How?” asked John.
“My elf wife, Crystal, she taught me to weave, and I weaved mithril,” replied Fodu.
John reached for the silver hoodie, examining the thin garment. “Sons of a bitch, this is amazing.”
Fodu nodded, “Great time is required to make it, but dwarf will no longer fear beasts strange. Advantage dwarf.”
Chapter 7
A second large door opened, secured with a similar mechanism to drive metal arms into the rock opening, and Aaro walked in carrying a wooden box. Behind him, another dwarf outfitted for battle, wearing leather armor, but overtop of it, the strange light mithril outfit. Carrying a helmet under his arm, he had a large ax strapped to his back and two swords hanging from his belt. Aaro, vocalizing an unknown command, told the dwarves around the room to re-organize. Half, setting down their axes, picked up the long polearms, advancing to the center of the room. Once in position, they pulled silver hoods over their heads, donned silver gloves and helmets. Aaro, never acknowledging the three, walked towards the cage. There he stopped, looked at the second dwarf, who just nodded, pulled a silver hood over his head, donned long gloves and a helmet. Aaro opened up the box, allowing the dwarf warrior to respectfully lift out a strange piece of metal. It was three feet long with a double curve, looking like a thin elongated ‘S’. With the ends wrapping back around forming points, the razor-sharp edges reflected the light in the room. Having no visible handle, several handholds, wrapped in leather, ran the length of the extremely thin weapon. Seeing several large red gems mounted to it, Eric also noticed runes similar to Tranquil Fury carved into it.