by Brae Wyckoff
Spilf retrieved the key with a room number etched into it. He looked back at his friends, waiting for someone to say what to do next.
“Come on little-ones. Let’s rest for a few hours before we leave,” Dulgin spoke solemnly. Silent in their walk, they trudged up the stairs to room number four. The sound of the Dwarf’s boots echoed on the hardened wood floor, and mingled with the slight stomping sound of the Daks’ hairy feet. They entered a large suite that overlooked the bay and all of its beauty, but it was the three beds in the room that had snared their desires. Their eyes were heavy and their adrenaline had run its course. Perhaps more answers would be revealed tomorrow, but at this point nothing seemed to matter.
Hours passed and the night turned to day. Bridazak was startled awake by the neigh of a horse outside their window on the street below. He sat straight up in his bed to find Dulgin and Spilf already awake and staring out of the opening from the side.
“What is it?” He asked groggily.
“A few humans in dark clothing. They appear to be looking for something, or should I say, someone,” Dulgin indicated his friend with a quick look.
“What could they want with us? I don’t understand,” Bridazak said while throwing his hairy feet to dangle off the bed.
“I’ve been thinking the same, and have come to the conclusion that it has something to do with that small wooden coffer inside your backpack. You haven’t opened it yet,” the Dwarf pointed over at his friends’ belongings.
Without a word, Bridazak hopped down and slid the tiny chest out of the leather sack.
“To open this gift you will need to bare your heart to the one that has given it to you. Remember, that is what Kiratta said,” Spilf echoed her words. “Oh, and I found out what this key opens in the room.”
Dulgin and Bridazak looked confused by Spilf’s last statement. “Remember, that gnome Mudd, last night? He said this was his room key and it would open more than the room. Ah forget it; I will just show you.” Spilf scurried across twenty feet from where he was standing by the window. He placed the key to the wall and magically, an outline of a small door appeared. Spilf looked back at his friends with a smile, “See? We could use it as an escape route if the men in black find us.”
“But where does it go?” asked Bridazak.
Spilf pondered the question, “I imagine to the other side.”
“Yeah, brilliant. You came up with that all by yourself? When there is magic involved, who knows where that will lead? Maybe another portal,” Dulgin spat out.
“I didn’t think about that.”
“You did good Spilf. Don’t mind Dulgin. Hopefully, we won’t have to use it,” he expressed protectively, and then returned his attention to the mystery of the box in his hands. He realized he felt just as protective of the box as he did Spilf.
Dulgin glanced out the window once again, but this time found the cloaked figures gone. He rushed the opening to get a better view of down below. His head darted back and forth, not locating any of the mysterious tall folk.
“Look alive. We might have company.”
The Ordakian grabbed his knapsack and shoved the box back within its domain. He shuffled to his feet and readied himself. Dulgin’s axe was out and ready for battle. Then it was quiet as they waited. They stared at the door to their room with the keen sense of danger that approached them. A knock at the door didn’t rattle the Dwarf, but the Daks nearly jumped out of their skin. Dulgin calmed his friends with his gruff hand waving downward slowly.
“What do you want?” Dulgin responded to the knock.
“Town guard wants a word with you,” sounded the voice beyond.
“Yeah, what about?” Dulgin continued the charade.
“It has to do with the silk goods you brought into town. Open the door.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. Now go away, before I introduce you to my axe.”
There was no response to Dulgin’s threat. The Dwarf looked at Bridazak and motioned him with his eyes to check outside. He moved quietly, and immediately saw one of the assassins, already climbing up the slippery thatched roof toward their window. Another strong impression suddenly entered his mind, “There are too many. Use the key.” He waved for Spilf to open the secret door. Spilf already had the key in hand, and reignited the outline, prying it open. The knocking to their room became pounding.
“Open this door immediately, by the order of King Manasseh!”
As he approached, Bridazak could hear the sound of a traveling horse and smelled the pungent odor of hay just beyond what he was now sure was indeed another portal.
“You guys go through first. I will close the door behind us,” said Spilf.
“I’m gettin tired of all this portal-hopping, not-knowing, riddle-answering, goldless adventure of yours!”
A crash behind startled them as the assassin shattered the window with his crossbow. Spilf quickly started to push his friends toward the dimension door, but he gasped for air as a crossbow bolt slammed into his back and gave him enough momentum to topple the burly Dwarf. Off balance, Dulgin fell through the opening. He was engulfed by the magical effect of the portal and disappeared. His yell faded from the room, and he was gone. Bridazak saw Spilf sprawled out in front of him with a large black bolt buried in his back.
“Spilf!” He cried.
“Bridazak,” he coughed. “Quickly, take the key—and take this, my friend.” Spilf handed him the golden key, so the intruders could not follow behind them, and a small leather pouch that he had tucked within his sleeve.
“No Spilf. I won’t leave you.”
The assassin was loading another crossbow bolt at the window ledge when the door to the room exploded open with a fury that sent the locking mechanism and fragments of wooden door frame, scattering in pieces.
“You have no choice Bridazak. I will miss you, my brother. Now go!” He pushed his friend one final time, but Bridazak still held his ground, until a force from behind grabbed and yanked him into the portal. Spilf slid over to close the door; a door that no man would be able to open again.
“Take care of my secret, Bridazak,” he said as darkness overtook him and he slumped to the ground, lifeless.
.
6
A New Ally
Dulgin emerged from the open gateway to find he was engulfed by vibrant yellow, fresh-smelling hay. He was inside a large, hollowed mound on a horse drawn cart. He could hear the clopping hooves and feel the wagon wheels rolling over the uneven terrain. Only a small amount of light trickled into the confined space. He turned around and saw the opening he had fallen through. Faded edges outlined the portal and he saw his friends struggling, and the door busted open to unleash more men. What caught his attention most was the mystic coming into view—the same one that almost killed him had somehow survived Oculus. Dulgin could feel his temper rising, and wanted to finish what Oculus did not. Bridazak didn’t notice the robed mage, as his attention was focused on the fallen Spilf. Dulgin was unable to hear any sound from his side, but he understood well enough. He stretched his arms into the opening and felt the portal’s resistance. Pushing with all of his Dwarven strength, he broke the barrier and grabbed hold of Bridazak’s shoulders, yanking him through. Bridazak was consumed by the magic gateway and landed inside the hollow haven with the Dwarf. They watched Spilf close the gateway and the magical exit blinked away. The faint sound of crackling energy dissipated.
“Let me go back!” Bridazak shrieked. Dulgin planted his gruff hand over his friend’s mouth, hoping the driver would not stop to inspect. The Dwarf put up his other hand, motioning him to be quiet; they couldn’t be sure if they were out of danger just yet.
He released his cupped hand and then pulled apart the hay pile to make a peep hole. Dulgin dug through enough to see the driver—a young human lad of about fourteen. He wore peasant clothing, soiled by farm work. It was too loud for the boy to hear anything; he determined they could talk openly as long as the cart continued to move. Bridaza
k made another opening directly opposite, revealing the town of Lonely Tear in the distance as they made their way along a dirt road next to a river. Realizing Spilf was not all that far off, and yet farther than he could now reach, was too much pain for Bridazak. He fell back into the hay mound in shock.
“We are safe to talk now, my friend—but keep your voice low. It appears that we are on a hay cart, bound for a farm I suspect. A young boy is the only driver,” Dulgin said.
“Safe? Spilf is gone!”
“I know he is.”
“Why? Why, Dulgin?”
The ruddy Dwarf shook his head slowly, not able to answer the question, and fighting his own emotions. He recalled his brother’s faith, and the blessing he spoke in honor of those fallen. “Kawnesh di lengo mi diember faustuuk,” he whispered.
Shyly, Bridazak peered up, “What does it mean?”
“It is a Dwarven prayer: ‘May his light shine brighter in the realm beyond’.”
Bridazak broke down; his entire body shook as he wept in a silent despair. The event rolled through his mind over and over again, counting the ways he could have done more to save Spilf. Dulgin sat down beside his friend and put his arm around his shoulder to comfort him. The Dwarf’s eyes began to well up, but he quickly replaced his sadness with anger. He envisioned the triumph of standing over the body of the red-robed mystic, his own axe buried in the evil bastard’s chest.
An hour passed, and Bridazak had fallen asleep from the exhaustion of his grief. Dulgin stayed alert and waited for an opportunity for them to move out from their hay-covered haven. That opportunity arrived when the boy pulled up the reigns and they came to a complete stop. The burly Dwarf nudged Bridazak awake and held up a finger to his mouth to quiet him before he could ask any questions. They listened as the farm boy hopped down, patted the horses, and then moved away into a thatch-roofed barn. Dulgin watched until he was out of sight and then gave the go ahead to climb out of the burrowed hiding place. Hay tumbled aside everywhere and straw clung to each of them; yellow strands littered their hair and clothing. There was no time to brush it off as they quietly scurried away down to the river’s edge. Cowpecks and shepps grazed on the farmland, and fresh air mingled with the scent of animal droppings. The terrain was flat in these parts, except for an occasional rolling hill and some sparse trees where several of the farm creatures gathered to rest in the shade. There was a barn along the road, and a farmhouse not too far away with a smoke plume rising from the chimney. It was brisk in temperature and even colder next to the river. The smell of the fire and the manure dissipated as they hustled away to remain out of sight. Before them lay open country as far as their eyes could see as they ran toward their destination: the famous Everwood.
They finally stopped when Bridazak plopped onto a large boulder. Dulgin knelt down by the river’s edge, cupped his hands, and splashed his face. He craned his neck and saw his friend staring into the rushing water, numb.
“So, what is the plan, Bridazak?”
“Plan? I don’t have a plan, but apparently someone else does!” Bridazak snipped bitterly, as if he was talking to some invisible entity.
“I know that you are angry, my friend.”
“Angry? They killed him. He is dead—and for what?” He pulled out the mysterious container, “For this?” He threw the box into the river with a scream, full of anger.
It splashed into the moving water and submerged like a rock. The deep sound of the impact reached their ears above the rushing flow. Dulgin stared at it and spotted a faint glow under the surface. “What is that?”
Bridazak’s reddened face calmed and his focus shifted to follow Dulgin’s. The aura intensified and the river began to swirl. The water showed more turbulence as it fought against the unnatural flow. A funnel opened in the center of the thirty-foot expanse and continued to enlarge. The current changed as a sudden wall of the green liquid exploded into the air. Another wall emerged. The fast paced river suddenly stopped, as if it was blocked by an invisible barrier. They looked upon a narrow opening which revealed the riverbed. Smooth rocks of various size laid scattered across the bottom. The box waited in the middle, with radiant beams of light sprouting in all directions. They were mesmerized, mouths agape. Bridazak sighed, and timidly approached. Cautiously, he stepped into the dry riverbed with a wall of water on each side of him. “What are you doing Bridazak?” he asked himself, but continued to traverse until there at his feet was the bright container. He slowly knelt down and picked it up. Holding it flat in his palms, he proceeded back to the shore where his friend remained motionless.
“By all the gods of Ruauck-El,” Dulgin said in awe.
The water was suddenly released as the walls fell. It collided and crashed to connect once again. Waves splashed on the banks and the original flow returned.
Bridazak felt a strange peace come over him. The storm of emotions inside calmed.
“I’m tired, Dulgin. We need to find a place to rest and get ourselves back on track for whatever lies ahead of us.”
“This, whatever it is, is beyond us now.”
“I understand, my friend. It is okay if you want to leave.”
“Leave? I’m not about to leave. They killed our friend and almost got me. I will see this through alongside of you. They have messed with the wrong Dwarf.”
Bridazak nodded gratefully. “What is in this thing?”
“I don’t know, but now it has caught my interest. C’mon, let’s keep movin.”
They walked in silence until they found a rocky area with a twenty-foot-high alcove nestled in the granite. It was a perfect location for shelter from the biting wind that swept through, and would give them a chance to get their bearings straight. The precipice of the naturally formed rock had a wide and flat dirt area that the weary travellers discerned others had used in the past. Remains of bones from an animal and a long forgotten fire pit were the markers, but no one had been here in quite some time. Dulgin began to scrape together loose wood in the area, mainly from the river’s edge. They would need to have a fire on this chilly night.
The failing light produced a brilliant color spray of oranges and pinks on the sporadic clouds in the distance. Bridazak had watched many such sunsets with his lost friend throughout the years, and it stung deeply as he realized he was watching this painting unfold alone.
“Spilfer, why couldn’t you be here to see this?” he whispered.
The red-bearded Dwarf started the fire quickly, and then moved to unravel their bedrolls which were attached to the packs they carried. He tossed some dried rations to Bridazak, who was warming his hairy pads by the fire. Bridazak nodded his thanks but continued to stare deep into the flames. The wind howled around them, but only lightly touched their protected campsite. Lost in the light of the fire, the world he now lived in seemed a lifetime away from all he had known just a few days ago. He counted the previous events, grasping to restore some understanding: his dream, the mysterious creature hiding in the dark, Kiratta, the prophecy, Ember and then Mudd, and now, the ache at the loss of the only person he had ever known as a brother.
“Hey! What about us?” A metallic voice sounded within Bridazak’s ears. He quickly scanned around and noticed that Dulgin was at the perimeter of their camp, kneeling down to grab from the pile of wood he had gathered.
“Did you hear something, Dulgin?”
He gave Bridazak a puzzled, squinty-eyed stare. “You okay, my friend? I only hear the wind,” he finally responded.
“Stop talking to that ugly Dwarf over there and let us get a good look at you,” the same strange voice pronounced. Bridazak looked down and noticed the wrapping tucked in his belt—the one that Spilf had handed him before he was pulled through the magical gate. It suddenly wiggled and startled him. Dulgin noticed his friend’s jerky movement, and dropped the wood he had in his hands to reach for his axe.
“What is it?” Dulgin asked.
Bridazak didn’t respond, but instead slowly brought the bundle out to inspec
t. It laid flat in his palm and he slowly unwrapped the supple leather. His eyes widened in amazement as he unveiled the two thieves’ tools Spilf had used to disarm traps and pick locks. They were no longer rusty as he had seen them before, but shined bronze. They were two inches long, skinny, and highly magical. The pair of tools each had eyes and a mouth, and were staring back at the Ordakian. Dulgin peered at what his friend had uncovered.
“Hi Bridazak! My name is Lester, and this is my brother Ross,” the animated pick introduced himself. Bridazak looked up at Dulgin, smiling incredulously. Dulgin squinted with a blank stare, waiting for something he was supposed to notice, but heard only an uncomfortable silence.
“Can you see them? They are talking to me.”
“What are ya talking about, ya blundering fool? Them are just some ugly-looking, rusted tools ya got there. I thought you were in danger or something. Don’t be getting the mad fever on me,” he muttered in frustration as he moved back to the wood he had dropped.
“Ah, don’t worry about him, he is always grumpy,” Lester chimed in response to the Dwarf. The other pick spoke, “We are now at your service. There is no lock or trap that we can’t get through,” it boasted in a demeanor of pride.
The items had distinct voices. Lester spoke with a deeper, metallic tone, while Ross had more of a squeaky, tinny whine.
“So this was his secret. Where did Spilf find you? This is amazing,” Bridazak sputtered.
Dulgin looked back over at the Ordakian and shook his head. Worrying his friend had lost his sanity, he went back to tending the fire.
“You can talk to us through your mind Bridazak, so as not to alert anyone around you. That is how we are talking to you right now, and that is why Mr. Grumpy can’t hear us.”
Bridazak tried it out, “Can you hear me?”
“Yes, we can hear you.”
Bridazak slid his satchel over next to him and retrieved the strange wooden box. “Can you find a way inside this?” he asked in his mind.