by Leo deSouza
“Because… This is a different type of mystery.” Torag replied, now showing interest in playing with the old gnome.
“How different?” Wiltix asked.
“It’s a type of mystery that, rides horses, flies on beasts, and casts witchcraft.” Torag replied.
“Huuum… Seems a quite demanding quest to look for such a thing… Guess your masters are paying you well.” Wiltix spoke.
“Hey… He is not so fool after all, can mind about rewards better than many of us. No, my friend Wiltix, this is not a paid quest.” Torag spoke.
“What kind of idiot would throw himself in such an enterprise without any fee?” Wiltix asked.
“Ye are looking at them.” Torag replied.
Now Rurur furrowed as he looked at Thuor. “I don’t think this conversation is leading anywhere.” He spoke.
Thuor heard and nodded to him, then rose from the chair. “Well, I think it is time for us to leave, thank ye for your welcoming.” He said as he motioned to the others and went to the door.
“Already going, captain Thuor?” Wiltix spoke as he chewed a mushroom. “Right when I was starting to remember about you.”
The other dwarfs got out of the home, still Thuor was there on the door sill. “We once were good friends, Wiltix, I hope your oblivion will not bring ye much suffering.” He said.
Now Wiltix raised too, he walked slowly, approaching Thuor. “Oblivion you say… Thuor RockFoot… Oblivion is also about forgetting the suffering… But suffering is something that can come without any warning… I would advise you to keep your eyes open, and your torches lit… This is a dark path… How could one tell what lives there beyond, if none ever came to see among the entire darkness? There is pits and holes, cracks and slits on this mountain that hides things long forgotten, others that could not even be forgotten, as they were never discovered at all…”
Thuor just looked at him, finding strange that last statement. “I will remember this. Thank ye for your advice, and farewell.” He spoke as he left the house.
The company gathered on the footbridge and began the travel again, leaving the gnome behind.
“I thought we could at least get some information from him, but seems that he is already too old to even remember about his own things.” The captain said.
“That last statement from him sounded quite sane to me.” Rurur spoke.
“He is the last one of his kind.” Thuor continued. “All his kin are long gone, an old race that once dwelled this place, these caves. Gnomes, they live under the mountains, like us, but not digging mines. They adapt to the caves, respecting its natural form. Anyway as I said, he is the last one.”
“How does he persist while all his relatives are already dead then?” Rurur asked.
“Maybe it is the beverage, the one ye drank, it gives him long life.” Torag argued.
“So we came to know not only small animals dwell this place. Who else lives here after all? Besides gnomes.” Olaf asked.
“Rats, centipedes…” Torag spoke.
“I’m talking about the intelligent beings, not small animals.” Olaf continued.
“What about the blood orcs?” Rurur asked.
“They are not from here, they came from far, crossing all the way.” Thuor replied.
“Well if it is really the Warlock who is making all this mess, then things are getting worse. I’ve came to believe in wicked witches charming people or even animals, but never heard about an entire army being under the will of a leader who is not present.” Rurur spoke.
“The place where these blood orcs came from is a deep web of tunnels next to the Vulcan, far from here, and the access to there is well guarded by our cousins, the Steel Fists who live and forge in the fire of this sacred mountain, a place that is always leaking lava and expelling smoke and steam. If someone is responsible for the marching of this army, then it must be one who really knows how to do things without catching attention.” Thuor said.
“Talking about lava and steam… Did anyone notice that it is getting colder and colder as we advance?” Rurur spoke.
“It is actually comfortable… I think it is the effect of the beverage ye just drank.” The captain replied.
“Might be.” Rurur said.
Now they started to feel hungry, ahead they saw a bifurcation on the footbridge, leading towards the rocky wall cave on their right and an arch there that gave access to a chamber, the group went inside. It was a place full of old broken stuff, chairs, tables and even some scrolls around, there were also many spider webs, Torag and Thuor hung their torches on braces on the walls, Olaf dealt with an old broken table, fixing it as he placed a small box to serve as one of its legs. They also improvised chairs with boxes and started placing food, it was a small room, the light glanced against the walls, turning the place somehow cozy.
“Remember that our journey will now be different, we are not on the fields anymore, there are no tubers to collect here, nor do we have any animal carrying provisions. So we must dole out well our reserves.” Thuor said.
Rurur got sad, as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh my dear Jewelry… He did a great effort, and even carried ye, captain.” He said.
“So let the animal rest in peace.” Thuor replied
Fairy Vixen was now flying around the dwarf’s heads, Torag whisked as he ate. “Lock this thing inside the bottle again, Olaf!” He said.
“She cured my arm! I owe her.” Olaf replied showing the scar on his arm.
“It is true, the wound is gone.” Thuor said looking at it. “How was it?”
“I think she did it during the nights, while I was asleep.” Olaf replied.
“So that thing is not that useless at all, I still remember the day when ye got that wound from the goblins, back on the Trade Meeting Post.” Torag spoke.
As the others looked too, they could notice that the wound Olaf got during the battle in the Trade Meeting post had even its scar now almost gone.
“Ye know what… Ye all look pretty strange to me now.” Rurur spoke.
“How strange? We are all hungry and tired.” Thuor said.
“No, captain… it is your head… It is getting bigger!” Rurur replied.
Now everyone looked at him, the dwarf was placid, his pupils were dilated, and he somehow was lazy.
“What do ye mean with bigger?” Torag asked. “Stop talking foolishness.”
Rurur looked at Torag. “What are these colorful things around your head?” He asked.
“What?” Torag asked, intrigued.
Rurur began to laugh.
“Must be the effect of the beverage Wiltix gave him. I should have warned ye all about that. These gnomes use to drink such things, thought I believe the effect is not the same in them.” Thuor said.
“Hunf…” Torag snorted. “Fool…”
The meal took some more time to finish, and after it each dwarf came to a corner to rest, although the underground ambience was familiar to them, this old abandoned dark place somehow made them all feel a little bit downcast, except for Rurur, he was still saying strange things. “I never lay down on a rock so soft like this… It’s almost like my pillow… Wait! No, it is even smoother! What about all these colors inside this room? How could one say this is a gloomy place?” He was saying.
“What was in that beverage after all?” Torag asked.
“Just leave him, it will pass.” Thuor said.
“I hope so… I’m tired… Quite tired if ye ask me…” Torag spoke, laying on the ground and trying to arrange himself on the rocky floor.
“Me too.” Replied Olaf.
“We have been travelling a long distance since we left the city, and not with much time to rest, we are all tired since the battle.” Thuor broke in. “I think we can take the rest of the day for resting, and then leave again.”
“This is all one old tired warrior could hope to hear.” Torag added.
For the rest of the day the dwarfs rested, and they did not speak much, except for oc
casional questions to each other and a low song that Olaf sang, a song about travelling far from home, something that made them even more melancholic.
“When I first saw ye,
oh my beloved city,
that I realized how glorious ye were,
your majestic entrance,
guarded by the many ones who loves ye,
and inside it a precious gem,
a dwelling of many lovely rooms,
of many warm quarters,
of many friendly faces,
but now I’m far from there,
oh my beloved city,
I dream about the day,
when I will reach ye again,
to join my folk at once,
to rest on your soft sheets,
and maybe for the last time sleep,
not to wake up anymore,
for dying under these marvelous ceilings,
is an honor worth it,
oh my beloved city.”
He finished singing.
“I liked this one. Is it about our city?” Torag asked from his corner.
“No… This is a song I once heard, from a Thick Beard dwarf while we stood in their home. They tell many stories about their own city.” Olaf replied.
“Forget about what is past. Let’s talk about the place we are going to, the Steel Fist house.” Torag said.
“Yes, I’ve seen the city under the Vulcan, it is an impressive place for sure. One must cross bridges above rivers of fire and lava to reach its gates, and there is never darkness or cold inside it, as the dwarfs there know how to use the heat from the mountain to keep their dwelling warm and alive.” Thuor replied.
“Ye know what? I have a feeling that we will get tired of this cold hard ground soon.” Olaf spoke.
Rurur was now sleeping deeply, snoring like never before. The time passed and no dwarf there could exactly say what time it was, but the feeling was that it was always night in that place. When Torag’s watching turn came, he went outside of the room, standing on the border of the footbridge as he smoked his pipe, looking at the abysmal darkness around, alone, hearing the sound of water drops falling from the ceiling and hitting the ground nearby. Some light from the torches inside the room lightened the portion of the footbridge right in front of the arch that gave entrance to the chamber. A voice sounded behind Torag: “Hey.”
“Ouch!” Torag exclaimed, scared by Olaf’s voice. “Oh ye… Don’t come like this, I could cut your head off in a quick blow of my axe!”
Olaf approached him and noticed he had something in his hand. “What is it?”
Now Torag revealed something, the bottle in which the spirit creature was caged inside. “Look closer.” He said reaching the bottle close to Olaf’s eyes.
“What the...!” Olaf exclaimed as he saw what was inside the bottle. The spirit, in miniature, floating among green smoke.
“Ye see? Ye have a fairy, I have this small devilish thing.” Torag continued.
Now Olaf squinted, looking carefully to the caged being. “What is it?” He asked.
“I’m not sure.” Torag replied. “Think is some kind of genie or something like that.”
“Genie? Does it tell about your fortune? Your future.” Olaf said.
“Yes, like any other charlatan could.” Torag replied.
One more time Olaf looked carefully at the bottle. “Where did ye find that thing?” he asked.
Torag exhaled smoke in the air. “In the Green Grotto.” He replied.
“Ha! I knew something happened inside there! Fairy Vixen told me!” Olaf said.
“She? What by the skies are ye talking about?” Torag asked.
“Vixen, my fairy. She whispered in my ears, something hidden ye had, something ye brought from the cave, back from the Grotto.”
“Tricky sprite this one of yours, isn’t it? How could she know?”
Now Vixen flew out of Olaf’s shirt collar and twirled in the air emitting her white pale light.
Torag continued: “Hey, I had the best of the ideas, why don’t we put these two together inside the bottle and watch them fight?”
Olaf twisted his mouth in disapproval. “What do ye intend to do with that thing?” He asked pointing to the bottle.
Torag glanced at the genie inside the bottle, the creature was there, looking back to him as if waiting for something. “I don’t know.” The dwarf replied. “I could not free him, the bastard would begin to haunt me again and offer me answers, foolishness.”
“Why don’t ye just leave him here then? In some hidden dark corner, never to be found again.” Olaf asked.
“Huuum… Who knows… Somehow I feel like this is my property now, maybe he has some utility after all, maybe it’s worth a good price!” Torag replied.
“Who would buy such a thing, Torag?” Olaf asked.
“There are always folks interested in buying things…” Torag whispered as if thinking about it.
At this moment something passed near them on the footbridge, making a whoosh towards the way ahead, like a moving shadow.
“What was that?” Olaf asked, trying to see thought the darkness.
Torag stood looking at the path ahead where the shadow moved to, like a watchful fox. “It seems that there is something out there...” He said quietly stepping ahead towards it.
Both dwarfs stood silent trying to see for a moment, then again something moved far ahead of them, revealing a shady figure, not distinguishable anyway.
“Ah! Now I saw it! Ye too?” Olaf exclaimed.
Torag took the burang from his belt, the strange weapon he got from the carpenter elves on their giant trees, the dwarf prepared to throw it. “If it hits something, it will not return, if not, then it will come back to my hand.” He said.
“Ye have been waiting for the moment to test this thing for a while haven’t ye?” Olaf asked.
Then Torag threw the weapon towards the figure, and it flew away twirling with a noise as it cut the air, it penetrated the darkness, the dwarfs stood quiet, waiting for the result.
“I heard nothing.” Olaf spoke.
“Shut up!” Torag exclaimed.
Just a moment after, they heard the sound of the burang coming back through the air.
“There it comes.” Torag said.
The weapon showed up flying back and Torag caught it.
“Oh! So ye now know how to handle this thing.” Olaf said.
“I learnt a long while ago. But it hit nothing, might be just our imagination.” Torag replied.
But Olaf was still looking at the darkness ahead, he was now frightened as he could distinguish a humanoid figure out there, almost invisible, but he thought he could see two eyes in a head shape, deep sinister eyes. “Throw it again …” He spoke.
One more time Torag, raised the burang above his shoulder and then threw it against the darkness. This time the weapon flew away and a hit was heard, then a wicked scream, and finally the sound of the burang falling on the ground.
“What by my beard was this?” Olaf asked.
Vixen hid again inside his clothes.
“It hit something. Go inside and fetch a torch, don’t wake up the others.” Torag spoke.
Olaf did as he said and came back with a lit torch in his hand, lightening the ambient. Torag took it from his hand and stepped ahead being followed by Olaf, after walking some distance, they saw on the ground the burang, and then crouched to take it.
“Whatever it was… Took a hit and left.” Torag said.
“Judging by the sound it made, I would say it hit its head.” Olaf spoke.
Torag chuckled. “Whatever… Let’s go back to the chamber.”
The dwarfs went back and joined Thuor and Rurur, there they arranged themselves on the ground to sleep, never without one of them staying awake as a sentinel. Time passed, the torches burned, the dwarfs rested.
A darkness dweller.
More days passed since the company left the Red Star City, they were now more used to the dark, and t
heir ears became trained again to hear even the most subtle noise. Walking on the footbridge, Thuor led the group holding his torch to light the path, they suddenly came to cross something partially blocking the way, a mining car, it was overturned, and empty, the dwarfs stopped as the captain lighted it.
“It seems the small knave had to go ahead on his own feet.” Olaf said approaching. “Hunf… It takes courage to travel across this darkness alone like he did.”
“He had no other option at all.” Thuor spoke.
Torag approached and kicked two times something on the trails. “Seems like someone did not want him to go ahead.” He spoke.
The others looked down and saw a blockage on the trails, like a beam fixed there to avoid any car rolling over it.
“If the car stumbled on this, where is the dwarf?” Olaf asked.
Torag approached the footbridge border and looked down to the darkness. “Maybe he had a flying lesson…”
“I don’t see any stuff here, either he fell down there taking with him all his belongings, or someone stole it later.” Thuor spoke.
“None of our interest anyway.” Torag said. “Let’s go ahead.”
“A pity this car can only carry one dwarf at once.” Rurur said.
“Enter it and go fast ahead if ye want, Rurur.” Torag replied to him.
They left the overturned car and started the walk again, at some distance ahead, the footbridge turned into a staircase that went down and up again to pass under a rock protrusion coming from the ceiling, and the railroad followed it. Bat flocks passed sporadically close to the dwarf’s heads as they walked, afar they could see light, a big light beam coming from a crack in the rock ceiling and ripping the darkness inside the huge cave void, one could see the dust of the ambience floating on it. Rurur was looking at it distrait when he stumbled on a rock and fell on the floor. “Ouch!” He exclaimed.
Torag came to help him rise. “Ye see why we need to walk in a row? One stumble like that and we could all fall into the abyss if we were walking side by side. And this is why we also need to keep some distance from each other, a falling one always tries to grab something to hold himself, if this thing is another dwarf, then there is a good chance of both ones rolling over the border of the bridge and falling down.” He said as he raised Rurur.