The Q'Herindam

by B Cameron Lee

  Cristal raised an eyebrow at this piece of news. She hadn’t realised Ch’ron had done more than just repair Shiri after her torture at the hands of Empress Martine and the Dark Mage.

  Arwhon looked at Cristal imploringly before switching his gaze to Shiri and Cringle.

  “What say you Shiri? Would you stay here a while until I return.”

  Sihron’del knew Arwhon was worried about her and to argue would only make things worse. Besides, it was a chance to educate Cringle in some of the finer things in life and she would be on hand if word of Kuiran, her brother, arrived.

  “If it’s alright with Cristal I would be happy to remain here but don’t you dawdle and stay away for too long. I’ll miss you while you’re gone.”

  Arwhon breathed a sigh of relief. It was settled, all he had to do now was inform Duran somehow. He excused himself, leaving the others to discuss plans and went out to the stables to give his big grey a cuddle and somehow try and explain he was going away for a while.

  Again.

  An hour after dark, Arwhon turned up at Callandor’s dressed in his chainmail and helm with his sword at his back and his Dagger at his side. Wrapped in the Darkwood cloak, Arwhon was virtually invisible, hidden from any prying eyes. All was quiet around the back door and Arwhon could see no evidence of horses or any other form of transport. How were they going to travel?

  He knocked and was quickly admitted. Callandor guiding him to the room at the back where once again, only a single candle burned, providing a dim light.

  “I’ve been instructed to leave you here and go. We don’t know each other very well but your grandmother impresses me and I salute your efforts in fighting evil. So farewell and good luck Arwhon. Call here again any time you wish.”

  Callandor left and as the door closed behind him, the trapdoor in the corner was raised and Silverseam stuck his head out. He wore a close-fitting, conical helm on his head and Arwhon could see the dwarf was mailed also.

  “Over here Arwhon, come on down. You are the first Man to ever enter our tunnels.”

  Arwhon went over to the corner and at Silverseam’s urging, climbed down the stairs to enter the dwarf’s world.

  At first he could make out nothing in the dim light but his M’Herindar eyes adjusted quickly, the dark pupils widening to suck in what light there was available. He was in a tunnel which was quite low and after banging his helm on the roof a couple of times, he took it off and carried it by the strap. He still had to stoop a little. The tunnel walls had some sort of lichen growing on them which gave off slight phosphorescence, providing the light he was seeing by. It was a similar sort of growth to that in the cave of the M’Herindar Wise Ones.

  “I saw no means of transport outside Silverseam.” Arwhon observed.

  Silverseam made a sound which could pass as a chuckle in the land of Man.

  “We have no need of transport. You were born with two feet and you’re going to use them.”

  Shortly they came to a chamber which had many passages leading from it, like the tunnels in a rabbit warren. Some were well travelled, some were not. Silverseam pointed to each one in turn and listed their functions.

  “Storeroom, forge, living quarters, well, strongroom and this is the one we take.”

  Picking a large pack up off the ground, Silverseam easily slung it over his shoulders and set off at a brisk pace down the tunnel he had just indicated. Arwhon hurried after, not wanting to lose sight of the diminutive dwarf. He found he didn’t have to stoop as much as he expected and said so. Silverseam replied.

  “You are tall for a Man and there are places you will find hard to travel through but the main thoroughfares are built with plenty of headroom, as not all of the Dwarves are short. You still need to watch your head though, as there are some low spots.”

  Arwhon saved his breath, as the pace set by Silverseam was quite rapid for such short legs as the Dwarf possessed and they walked for what seemed like hours. Arwhon was starting to tire when the tunnel opened out into another small cavern and Silverseam stopped and made himself comfortable on a handy rock. Arwhon plonked himself down wearily as the pack was opened and a small bundle was handed to him. It contained something which looked like black bread smothered in a gooey paste. He saw Silverseam attacking his portion hungrily so Arwhon bit into his own. The taste was unusual, a little like cheese on a strong bread, not inedible but definitely different.

  “Like it?” Silverseam asked.

  “It’s unusual.” Arwhon replied diplomatically. “What is it?”

  “The spread is cheese, one of our staples. We keep goats in the underground caverns and they graze on the lichen. The bread is made from the lichen. Picked, dried and ground to flour. You could live on it forever but don’t worry, we have other delicacies.”

  Silverseam passed over a water flask and after a short rest they were off again.

  “Where are we going?” Arwhon asked when he had a bit of spare breath.

  “Dwarfholme, under Mehgrin’s Wall.” Silverseam replied, the look on his face one of surprise at having to state the obvious.

  “But when do we get to the surface?” Arwhon replied.

  “We don’t. Its tunnels all the way.”

  Arwhon stopped and after a moment so did Silverseam who came back to stand before Arwhon. Looking up he gave explanation.

  “Dwarves have lived in this land a long, long time and we don’t like the surface much and keep to ourselves. We decided long ago to build transit tunnels to places we wanted to go or places we wanted to keep an eye on. Belvedere is important. Not just to Man. Our ancestors lived there once before we went underground. Which is why this tunnel exists. It’s a big risk for us having a Man know our secrets but we think you are worth it Arwhon. The Ring has accepted you and we are known to it.”

  Arwhon’s spirits lifted at the confidence Silverseam showed in him and he resolved to trust more and stop asking so many questions.

  Merely observe.

  “Thank you Silverseam. I feel rested now. Shall we continue?”

  So it went. Day after long day of walking. Arwhon became a lot fitter with the exercise and found he was more able to keep up. He wondered how Shiri was getting on without him and hoped Cringle was learning plenty during his absence. He missed Krissi too. His faithful Gryffon followed him everywhere and was never far away and now he was without her he still felt the space she had come to occupy.

  Occasionally they passed side tunnels leading off to who knew where and then after three to four days of travel, Arwhon noticed tree roots in the walls of the tunnel. He assumed they must have reached the edge of the timbered country. A couple of times they passed a group of dwarves travelling in the opposite direction. Arwhon drew strange looks but a short hurried conversation with Silverseam seemed to clear up any doubts they might have had about him.

  After eight days, the sloping passageway they followed started to rise steeply and before long they came to a large cave with a warren of tunnels heading out of it. Dwarves with axes stood guard at some of the tunnel mouths. Silverseam stopped at a carved rock table and benches, shrugging off his now light pack and taking out the last of the food.

  “This is one of the entrances to Dwarfholme. We’ll have to be escorted through Dwarfholme itself as not all Dwarves welcome the idea of having a Man among us and think you should be guarded. The name Copperlink carries weight and I’m the eldest son, so most dwarves trust my oath. I swore you would do us no harm in your search for answers. Nor will you.”

  Arwhon ate. He was used to the goat’s milk cheese on lichen bread by now and Silverseam was correct. You could live on it. Just as he finished the last bite, a group of six mailed and armed dwarves arrived.

  Their escort.

  Soon the party was passed into another tunnel by a guard dwarf and headed uphill at a steady pace. Fit as he was, Arwhon was starting to feel tired again but before his legs finally gave up on him, their party entered a massive cavern through an entrance halfway up one of i
ts walls. The space was so huge the city of Crossroads would have easily fitted into Dwarfholme with room to spare. The rock of its walls was honeycombed with a multitude of openings and dwarves came and went through them. Decent sized roads were cut into its walls, connecting level after level of openings while on its floor, fountains sparkled in the low light, the tinkling of the water echoing everywhere in the slight smoke haze rising from below. The air was cool and fresh, a testament to the engineering ability of the dwarves. As Arwhon’s eyes adjusted he saw there were many lichen covered buildings on the floor of the cavern, two and three stories high but all of one piece of rock, chiselled out rather than built up.

  It was nothing short of amazing.

  Silverseam stood quietly as Arwhon took in his first view of Dwarfholme. The escort stood behind them, all eyes on Arwhon. Silverseam pointed out a few of the more interesting constructs and gave an explanation as to their function. In the dim light, Arwhon could barely make them out.

  “Down there, below us, is the Central Plaza around which Dwarfholme radiates. There we hold meetings and celebrations. You may notice a large thoroughfare, running out of the Central Plaza.”

  Silverseam indicated a collection of larger buildings at one end of the cavern.

  “It leads to the complex of offices for Government back over there, behind which is the King’s abode. We don’t go in much for palaces and bowing and scraping but we must go to meet the King now, as you are the first Man ever to come here and our King must listen to what you have to say and evaluate you before you can continue on with your quest.”

  Having told Arwhon where they were heading, Silverseam set off down a road excavated from the cavern wall, followed by Arwhon and the six guards in three rows of two. As the party descended, they passed other dwarves on their way up the road. Arwhon took close notice of the dwarves they passed and was amazed at the diversity evident in them. His preconceived ideas went out of the window when he saw the variations in height and dress evident among some of those ascending. Not all were as hairy as Silverseam and some were taller by far. Most of the female dwarves wore attractive, colourful dresses which swung around their legs and many of them had fabulously ornate torques, armbands and jewellery in gold and silver adorning them. The men were all similarly dressed in white rough spun shirts hanging over red trews tucked into knee-high leather boots. Most had a rock hammer tucked through a loop in their belts. The women were not as stocky as the men and, by human standards, were quite attractive. Silverseam and his party drew nervous glances as they passed by but no one said anything to them as they marched down the road.

  There was a market set up in the Plaza which resembled markets everywhere, with food sellers, clothing stalls and tool makers who were trading busily. It was a hive of activity. Arwhon’s height made him easily visible and the dwarves around them went quiet as he passed, just looking without comment at probably one of the strangest sights they had ever seen. Down here, Arwhon was a being of legend, as few of the dwarves would have seen a Man before.

  The walk to the Government complex took them past the fountains he had seen from above and the buildings carved from stone. Close up, Arwhon could see that most surfaces beneath the softly glowing lichen were covered by relief carvings depicting mythical beasts and smooth skinned men and women.

  “Silverseam, how are you related to The Broken Lander’s?” Arwhon asked curiously.

  Silverseam answered without turning around as he kept on walking.

  “When the Dwarves came to the lands of the Hirondae, what you now name The Broken Land was an area the Hirondae hadn’t bothered with. To them it was of small concern and a little cold in winter for their tastes. Some of the small folk among us wanted to farm and decided to make their life there but we, the true dwarves, who feel the life in the rocks, wanted to delve into the earth. It was decided to split from those who wanted to farm and come here to the quiet safety of this cavern under Mehgrin’s Wall. Over time we have grown apart from those in what is now The Broken Lands. Why do you ask me these things?”

  Arwhon assembled his thoughts as he walked, trying to find a way to convey his desire to know about all the denizens of the lands.

  “I helped to free The Broken Lands from the yoke of Dominion. Its people are now quite different from the Dwarves and are one of the most peace loving folk I have met on my travels. Their King gave me a small farm which I’ve only been able to spend a week at so far but I think I would like to live there one day.”

  Silverseam stopped and turned around, which forced Arwhon to stop also and one of the guards bumped into him and grunted something intelligible.

  “You mean you would give up all you could have just to live in the country among a bunch of farmers?”

  “Yes Silverseam, I would. Life to me is not what I could get and have, I was a fisherman’s son for most of my life. Life is about how things feel and the Truth and peace in simplicity.”

  Silverseam shook his head in disbelief before he turned back and continued walking. It wasn’t long before they’d passed the Government buildings and came to a large wooden door, itself a statement in this environment of stone. One of their escort banged on the door and it was opened by yet another guard, who wore an ornate silver helmet on his hairy head. They were admitted into an entrance hall where a servant met them. He indicated the sword on Arwhon’s back.

  “Sir, I must ask for your sword before you are admitted to see the King. No one bears more than a dagger in his presence.”

  Arwhon hesitated for a moment but he really had no choice. Undoing the buckle of the harness he surrendered his sword to the servant who then led Silverseam and Arwhon deeper into the building.

  Eventually they were shown into a small comfortable room with woven tapestries on the walls and cushioned stone chairs surrounding a large stone table in the centre. The cushions were covered in fine pelts. In one of the chairs lounged a middle aged dwarf who looked no different from a lot of the other dwarves Arwhon had seen in Dwarfholme, apart from the fact he wore a red gold circlet on his head. The servant placed Arwhon’s sword beside this dwarf before retiring. The Dwarf King’s eyes twinkled as Silverseam introduced Arwhon, who bowed before the seated dwarf.

  “Your Majesty.”

  “Sit, sit. Let us eat and drink while we talk. You must be hungry after a week of bread and goo.”

  The King gave a wry smile as another servant entered the room bearing a large tray on which were a number of laden platters and three silver plates while yet another servant followed with a large silver pitcher and three silver mugs. They placed the platters on the table and put a silver plate in front of the King first, then Arwhon who was a guest and finally, Silverseam.

  Pointing at the platters, the Dwarf King listed their contents.

  “Delicate fungi harvested from tree roots near the surface, white mussels from underground streams along with blind fish and shrimp. That one there is the bread you are used to but toasted, while this is roast goat and a very ripe goat’s milk cheese.”

  The King reached for the pitcher and lifting it, poured a generous quantity of a foaming white liquid into Arwhon’s mug.

  “And best of all. Cold, fermented goat’s milk!”

  Arwhon tried a little of everything and found, to his surprise, he enjoyed all that was on offer. The chilled fermented goat’s milk took a little getting used to but it was a heady brew, so he only sipped it.

  The King paused for a moment.

  “You can’t keep calling me ‘King’ or ‘Your Majesty’ Arwhon. As my guest, you may call me Ironfist. I must warn you though, it’s more than just a name.”

  Arwhon took this statement on board and his Ring tingled slightly, warning him that negotiations had opened.

  “Tell me what it is that you want Arwhon, I’ve heard something of your exploits and we’ve been observing your progress ever since the Ring took you for its own.”

  Arwhon dropped the piece of toasted lichen bread he was just about to bi
te into, stunned by the news he had been under scrutiny.

  “How…..? I mean….. Dwarves don’t go on the surface. How could you watch me without Chalc or I seeing one of you?”

  “By Chalc I take it you mean your Servant who is now virtually running Tarkent?”

  “Yes, but how did you know that too?”

  Ironfist sat back, nursing his mug, amused at Arwhon’s astonishment and took a hearty pull on its contents before answering.

  “I will leave it to the Mage to explain the details but you haven’t answered my question yet.”

  “Sorry. If you know about the Ring and the weapons marked with its design, you will know I cannot use Firemagic. After my time inside Ch’ron I came out with the ability to draw Power but I cannot spend it.”

  Ironfist’s head shot up.

  “What is a Ch’ron?”

  “Not what, Ironfist but who.” Arwhon corrected, learning from the question that he wasn’t observed while in the Darkwood.

  “Then how could you be in him?” Ironfist asked, perplexed.

  So Arwhon told of Ch’ron aid after his loss of memory which resulted from the fall into the Black River at Gildon’s Keep and how Shiri had taken him to the Tree for healing. Throughout the tale Arwhon worried he was telling of thing’s he shouldn’t but how could all the people of the lands be one if too many secrets were kept? An enigma. All he could do was speak True and trust to Fate. He added another detail.

  “Its how I came to have M’Herindar eyes, Ch’ron had no pattern for Man eyes.”

  Ironfist sat back, picking up Arwhon’s sheathed sword as he did so.

  “I was wondering about that,” he said as he drew the sword from its sheath and inspected the workmanship. To Arwhon’s eye, the sword was scintillating with red fire, seemingly glowing from within and it troubled him a little.

  “Your Majesty, something is happening with the sword. I advise caution.”

  Ironfist could see nothing and finishing his examination of the blade, he returned it to its sheath and placed it back beside him.