The spellcasters broke their concentration and stared at their handiwork, then at themselves before breaking into a shout and embrace. Water began to pool up in the bowl-like depression as Orris and Swiggum gingerly dipped a cloth in the small puddle and sucked the warm but life-giving moisture. Soon there was enough water pooling up that they could wring a stream of water from their cloths.
“High magery afoot, indeed,” said a grinning Swiggum. “Water from a rock, oh my. I wonder what our Lorekeeper will think of this.”
Corissa staggered over to Nevin and looked up at him with as thankful a smile as she could manage. Anson stood by, weakened but gladdened by this success. Nevin reached out to his mage friend, pulled him into an embrace with Corissa and the three of them hugged amid the laughter and playful shouts of Orris and Swiggum.
Chapter 15
Glorhum
After slaking their thirst, they became very hungry. Anson laid out the balance of their food: a bag of nuts, some wilted beans and tubers, and the crumbly residue of a few wafers. Within a few minutes, all the food was gone after each had gotten a share.
Swiggum’s eyes were still round with excitement at the incredible feat of spellcasting by Anson and Nevin. He bounced and danced about the cave, delighting himself with descriptions of the “high magic.” To the amusement of the four humans, Swiggum seemed to be rehearsing his account of the event for his people at Glorhum.
“The dwarf is twice happy,” said Orris. “First for having water to drink, but second because he now believes we can help his people.”
“Let’s take first things first,” cautioned Nevin. “Swiggum, how long will it take us to reach your village?”
“Now that we can keep up a good pace, we could be there by dusk, we could, if we leave by dawn.”
Less than a day’s travel from the village was good news. They were out of food, but they had ample water with the good water bag full and the ruptured bag about half capacity. Spirits rose high as they huddled in a circle and bantered. One by one, each dropped off to sleep, Swiggum being the last. In the quiet and safety of the cave, it was a restful night for all.
* * *
Anson woke before any of his companions. As the sleep cleared from his eyes, he saw a woman sitting cross-legged opposite him.
“Who…? Are you the one called Zamora?”
“Yes, Anson. I am Zamora.”
“I was hoping to meet you. Is Hillister about? Should I wake my comrades?”
“Hillister is engaged in other matters. I am here alone. I came to enjoy the sight of you in good health. I knew of your pain and it distressed me that we could not intercede when you were mistreated. As for your comrades, they should not wake until I leave.”
“Zamora, I have many questions to ask you.”
“Now is not the time. I am only here to share two concerns with you. First, you must get to Taunton as soon as possible. Hillister thinks the human you know as Stryker is up to foul business of a sort we do not understand, yet we have seen enough to fear this man’s intentions. Should you choose to aid the dwarves, for their need is every bit as dire as Swiggum has said, you should not tarry long at Glorhum.”
“And the second concern?”
“You and Nevin altered a spell. Together, you seem to have the capability of creating spells as none have done before you. We are unsure whether it is wise to do this, but we have decided not to take any action to stop you. You will need your powers to deter the blight of war from this land. It may be necessary for you to expand the conventions of magery to carry out your intent, so we must take care not to hinder you. Still, it is a serious matter to alter spells.”
“Can you tell me more about you and the others you refer to? Are you all high mages?”
Zamora smiled, as if it would have pleased her to answer his questions, but she hesitated. “If you and your party hold true to your cause, there will be much time for us to question each other. Now is not yet that time, my dear Anson,” she said, rising. “I must leave you. Please close your eyes so that I may depart.”
Anson closed his eyes to the slightest sounds of footfalls, but did not open them as Zamora requested. After a moment, she was gone. He reflected about all the things she had to say, but he was confused about what it meant for him. Until he better understood, he thought it best not to tell the others about Zamora’s visit. She convinced him, however, that time grew more urgent and he and the others should be on their way.
After rousting his companions, they were soon out of the cave and following Swiggum. To Corissa’s relief, their path turned back toward the northeast and the vista of Adel’s Mountain seemed to inch closer as they made the final few miles to the underground village of Glorhum.
* * *
Since their bodies were rehydrated and well rested, the band made good time. It was early evening when Swiggum pointed cheerfully to the next ridge of hills, which were quite a bit lower than others they had encountered. “The entrance to Glorhum lies at the bottom of a cleft in those hills. It will be a big to do for ol’ Swiggum to return alive. And with the likes of mages, too. Mages, mages, hoo! We must enter with a look of pride and dignity, friends, because this tale will be long told by Lorekeepers to come, it will. The name of Swiggum will live on, live on and on! Ol’ Swiggum’s made his place.”
Once the scrubby ravine was spotted it was a difficult climb down because the path was narrow at best and often nonexistent. If the destination were not familiar beforehand, no one would likely find the point of entrance to Glorhum. When they finally came to a crevice identified as the entrance, only Swiggum was small enough to squeeze through upright. He suggested that the rest of them would probably enter more easily if they crawled, but it would only be a short distance until they could stand again.
“Once inside, there is much room,” said Swiggum. “Tall as he is, not even Sir Nevin will be bothered.”
First Swiggum entered, followed by Anson, Corissa, Orris and Nevin. As told, it was only a short crawl before they could stand up again. There was sufficient headroom in the narrow stone corridor so that walking was no problem for any of them.
Nevin had spent a few summers exploring caves and, at first, this one seemed pretty much like others he had seen except their path remained dimly lit. The faint illumination was remarkable because normal cave darkness was dispelled somehow without artificial lighting. Swiggum explained that over many years the dwarves had strategically dug many small holes through the upground surface, which they disguised to any who might pass by. If detected, they would pass for animal burrows. While these holes let in tiny amounts of daylight, the cavern walls were extremely reflective due to a frosting of calcite. Nevin figured this reflective mineralization in the cavern walls resulted in a type of photo-illuminative chain reaction that would diffuse light as far as the calcite went. According to Swiggum, this same effect was used during the nighttime hours, when a few well-placed oil lamps provided sufficient, though very dim illumination for residents to find their way anywhere in the underground community.
Swiggum signaled for the line to stop because it was certain their echoes were already detected. A watchguard post was located around the turn ahead and the affable dwarf wanted to go on alone to reduce the risk for alarm. After he disappeared past the turn, Nevin could hear the sounds of an animated conversation in a language he could not understand. Not quite shouting, it sounded like a vigorous exchange of both surprised greetings and mild argument. The conversation ended, soon followed by three sharp metallic peals of a bell. Swiggum returned, literally bouncing down the path. Rubbing his hands in anticipation and his face lit with excitement, he told them the bell signaled for a peaceful assembly in the town square.
Swiggum’s behavior reminded Nevin of a schoolteacher preparing his students before performing the class play. The dwarf orchestrated their entrance. “All right, all. Stand tall! Look proud! This will be a great moment in our history and we should act the part of its importance, we should. Follow
me!”
Swiggum turned and led the line of travelers on. Nevin caught Orris’s eye and they broke out in a laugh at the swagger shown by the dwarf. It was a proud moment for their new friend and it was obvious he intended to play his part with gusto.
Once around the corner, they came to the guard post. Another dwarf, much younger looking than Swiggum, stood by a large bell. Without breaking stride, Swiggum looked back to inform the others, “This is Aune. Pay no mind to him. He has little more sense than the rock he sits on. Save your charm and greetings for the Moot.”
When Aune saw the entourage following Swiggum, his mouth fell open. When his gaze came to Nevin, the bell hammer dropped from his hand. Nevin said a friendly “hello” as they passed, but the young dwarf could only stare in speechless astonishment. When he collected himself after the line passed, Aune picked up his hammer and proceeded to bang out another series of peals on the bell even louder than the first.
The path started with a gentle downward slope that became increasingly steeper. Nevin calculated they were about fifty to a hundred feet underground when they came to a final turn. Swiggum stopped just before the turn, adjusted his posture and took a deep breath. When he started again, he thrust his chin forward and swung his arms with a swagger even more exaggerated than before.
Nevin smiled at Swiggum’s antics, but once around the turn, he, himself, was astonished by the unexpected sight. Each of the humans stopped in their tracks as a mammoth cavern unfolded below them, containing a city of small earth-colored houses made of impeccably masoned stone. There were rows of houses on three sides of the deep cavern, with four terraced levels above the bottom level.
Nevin exclaimed, “There must be more than a hundred homes in here!”
“I have never seen such a sight,” Orris said, shaking his head in disbelief.
The enormous cavern was generally round, like a hollow sphere. The white calcite frosting the walls reflected a pale light, but the effect was quite startling to Nevin. It looked like the inside of a colossal geode.
Swiggum marched on, swinging his arms to and fro, as their path steeply dropped along the main pathway to the city center. The homes were small by human standards, but neatly placed with shared walls occupying all available space. The houses were all stone constructed, basically square with one level. Colored stone created soft pastel accents that distinguished one house from another. In place of accessories like flowerboxes or shutters to provide color and style, each of the homes was decorated with very colorful mosaic fanciwork made of many-sized stones and pebbles. On closer examination, Nevin could see that around windows and next to doors much of the mosaic decoration was artistically fashioned to actually represent flowers and shrubbery.
Following the steep descent, the path leveled and turned into the main track through the underground city. In the center was an open area that served as the town square, where the residents of Glorhum had already gathered in response to the assembly call. All the dwarves, young and old, stood in silence staring at the human strangers.
As the troupe walked toward the crowd, Swiggum signaled for them stop about ten yards away. He went forward alone to be met by an elderly looking male, whose hair and beard was very long and completely white. The two dwarves exchanged greetings, the elderly one giving Swiggum a solid slap on the shoulder. No one else spoke but these two. It was a moment mixed with joy and high drama at Swiggum’s unexpected return, but the silence of the crowd added a doleful element.
While the two dwarves carried on their conversation, Nevin studied the gathering. There were at least three hundred residents of all ages standing behind and to the sides of the white-bearded leader. A small number of children clung to the nearest adult. Most of the males had beards of some length; some wore skull caps. Their clothing was very simple and made of heavy material to match the cool temperature of their underground environment; without exception, the clothing of everyone in sight was quite dirty. A pungent odor became increasingly apparent, indicating their bodies were as unwashed as their clothing.
The most striking feature to Nevin about the assemblage of dwarves was the woeful look on their faces. The sight of four humans in the town had to be extraordinary for them, and with one over six feet in height it was doubly so. Mixed with the excitement from these visitors had to be a fear of the unknown: were these upgrounders dangerous or well-meaning? Muting these emotions was a preponderant look of desperation—a look of dire, wide-eyed need such as one might see in pictures of starving children. Nevin remembered it was just such a need that had brought their alliance about in the first place. Now he was glad they had come here, for the need was plainly great. He would use whatever knowledge or scientific reasoning he could muster to help the Dwarves of Glorhum.
Swiggum finally turned to the four humans and waved for them to come forward. As they did, the eyes of those assembled moved as one. Swiggum called out their names one at a time, in both Dwarvish and common speech. Nevin was the last to be introduced; Swiggum stood next to him and grasped hands to show they were fast friends. Then with a dramatic flair that drew all eyes to him, Swiggum pointed to Nevin and Anson and made a loud, but very brief, pronouncement that caused the entire crowd to stir. For the first time, a low murmur broke out among the townspeople. They went silent, however, when the white-haired elder raised his hand and spoke.
“I am Tharbor, elected leader of the Moot of Elders. Swiggum says that two of you are mages—high mages, even—who have come to help us. If you are skilled so and are well-meaning, we have a great need. But I must doubt you are what Swiggum says. I have shared company with the Council of High Mages before and none of you were present. Explain this deception.”
Anson stepped forward to respond. “The explanation is simple, Tharbor. I am a mage from Antrim though I make no claim to have high skills in magery. This is Sir Nevin the Reasoner, whom you have not seen because he has travelled here from a far land, a place with wondrous inventions and machines, and a race of tall humans. Sir Nevin does not claim to be a mage at all, but he is nonetheless a great sage, one with vast knowledge and insight unlike any I have met.”
“We have met such a man.” interrupted Tharbor. “He made the same claims for himself.”
“You refer to John Stryker,” said Nevin, stepping forward. “We have reasons to believe that his motives are not honest and his mission here is sinister. I have come with my friends to confront Stryker and expose his intentions. We are no threat to you. We would like to use whatever knowledge or skills we have to help you.”
Everyone present heard Nevin, but it was impossible to know how many of the dwarves could understand his speech. The sincerity and forthrightness of his tone seemed to come across, followed by a look of hopefulness in many of their faces. This effect did not escape Tharbor’s notice.
“Well met, Sir Nevin,” said Tharbor, whose eyes showed a faint change at Nevin’s words. “If you speak truthfully, you have said words we hoped for, we do. We welcome all of you to Glorhum. Our need is great and your own mission appears urgent, says Swiggum, so we have little time to act. I order a meeting of the Moot to take place here in the city center. Prepare for the meeting!”
Swiggum explained that there would soon be either chairs brought for them and the ten elders who made up the Moot, but Nevin might have to seat himself on the hardpacked floor. He would not be allowed to sit with them, so Swiggum bid each of them a friendly good-bye and bounced off to a waiting crowd. His time had come to regale his people of his adventures and tell the tale of how he helped the mages produce water from stone.
In a very short time, a setting of chairs was arranged for ten dwarves and the four humans. Before they sat, Nevin was surprised by a tug on his pants. A young dwarf child looked up at him and spoke something Nevin could not understand. Tharbor observed the interaction and came over. “The child, Bisi, wants to know if you can help us find water so she can drink and wash herself again.”
Nevin bent down to pick up the child and
gave her a tender hug. The child’s mother looked on with apprehension as the giant stranger picked her up.
“My dear,” Nevin said. “Your Uncle Nevin and his friends are going to do everything they can so you can bathe in the freshest water you have ever seen.”
The child smiled at Nevin and responded with a single word. Nevin look to Tharbor for a translation.
“She asks if ‘tomorrow’ is they day this will happen.”
Corissa took Bisi from Nevin and cradled the child herself. “Have faith in your tall ‘Uncle,’ child. He can do remarkable things.”
Corissa whispered to Nevin that she did not want to sit in on the council meeting. She wanted to stay with Bisi and get to know more of the people of Glorhum, while he did “what was necessary” to solve the water problem. Besides, she said, she found the chill air rather uncomfortable and wished to find a place to warm up. As Corissa set the child down and walked slowly away, Nevin told her to get some rest. It was evident their travel had taken a toll on her.
Nevin turned his attention back to the meeting which was getting under way. Everyone sat on wickered backless chairs made of woody plant fibers, except that a large rock had been rolled up for Nevin. It forced a laugh when he realized they were politely holding the meeting in the street because he was too tall to fit in their buildings and their chairs would not support his weight. Graciously he took his assigned place and the meeting that was to change the future of Glorhum commenced.
Chapter 16
Water
Tharbor started the meeting by announcing their purpose was to determine how the visitors might help in restoring their well. He deferred to another member of the council, a rotund female dwarf named Milseth, who recited the history surrounding their village water supply up to their current dilemma. She used common speech with some difficulty, but Nevin got enough of the story to realize that the well, which was located some distance behind them in the center of the street, had been dug generations earlier. A few years ago, they started detecting changes in the composition of the water. It gradually grew cloudier and grittier until reaching a point where the water had to be stored in large clay settling jars before use. As the well water receded to lower and lower levels, it progressively developed an undesirable taste until they had to hold their noses to drink it.
The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology Page 30