by Alon Shalev
“It’s good that you listen to advice. Come. We’re ready for yeh.”
They followed a corridor that turned into another cavern. This one was brightly lit and decorated with shields and axes. The walls were also covered with woven materials and a big, silver horn.
In the middle of the cavern was a table fashioned from a round, smooth slab of rock. It was a shiny gray, and Seanchai couldn’t help from running a hand over it. This was met with a cough and raised eyebrows from Ballendir. Seanchai removed his hand. The table had twelve smoothed edges for place settings. In front of each setting was a carved rock cube meant for sitting. When Seanchai sat, he felt more like he was squatting.
The council members’ hair and beards ranged from gray to white, and their faces were lined with age. Ballendir sat next to Seanchai, and opposite them was Ophera. She met Seanchai’s eyes momentarily before looking away.
Seanchai suddenly noticed that everyone else was staring at him. He smiled and squirmed in his seat.
“You are young,” said a heavyset dwarf to Ophera’s left. “Young and far from home.”
“Indeed,” Seanchai said, not sure how to continue.
He didn’t have to. A flurry of activity followed as dwarves poured into the cavern, laden with trays of food. Seanchai felt his stomach rumble. But as he surveyed the food, he saw a lot of dark, heavy meat.
The dwarves began to pile up their plates, and a hum rose. Only Seanchai and the Ophera did not take food. She rose and came behind him and Ballendir. She whispered into the dwarf’s ear and Ballendir stopped eating and turned to his guest.
“Excuse mah manners, Seanchai. I haven’t seen such a feast as this in months. I thought yeh eat meat?”
“I do,” Seanchai said. “But only the white meat of fish and bird.”
“Yeh ate rabbits when we were traveling. Was that because yeh had no choice?”
Seanchai nodded and Ballendir relayed this to Ophera. She took Seanchai’s plate and filled it with vegetables and something that looked like meat. She then signaled to a dwarf standing by the door and whispered in his ear. He disappeared and soon returned with some cheese and bread. This he set down near Seanchai.
“Thank you,” Seanchai said to Ophera.
“Those,” Ballendir pointed to the dark food on Seanchai’s plate, “are pertroba mushrooms. They help to build yeh body and muscles. Those red ones are . . . I don’t know how to translate it; something like ‘steak imitator.’ Taste it. Yeh won’t believe it’s not from a mighty beast.”
“You eat a lot of mushrooms because you live underground?”
A redheaded dwarf on Seanchai’s other side answered. “We use mushrooms for many things. The variety of species we have are good not only as food, but for medicine, poisons, and even dyes.”
“Poisons?”
“Didn’t yeh mother warn yeh not to eat mushrooms yeh can’t identify?”
Seanchai nodded, saddened by the thought of his mother and whether or not she even lived. Ophera said something quietly, and the redheaded dwarf nodded.
“I’m sorry. Did I bring up painful memories?”
“Yes,” Seanchai replied, “but not about mushrooms.”
When the food was finished, the clan chief called out, and the dishes were removed. Bread and cheese were left, and flagons of ale were brought in. Many of the dwarves – Ballendir included – took out pipes.
Rothendir, the clan chief, turned to Seanchai. “Do yeh not smoke?”
Seanchai grimaced. “Ballendir has taught me, but I have no pipe.”
The dwarves all stared at him as though he had told them he lacked an arm. They shook their heads in disbelief, and Rothendir turned to Ballendir.
“I assume you plan to rectify this?” she said sternly.
Ballendir nodded. “We’ve been a little distracted,” he offered, but it was clearly not enough.
“The ale is good for me, thank you,” assured Seanchai. “Please do not worry–”
“He will need a tall stem for one of his size,” Rothendir continued, looking critically at Ballendir.
“He’s an elf and should have an elf pipe.” The red-haired dwarf added.
Again, they all nodded. Seanchai was feeling impatient and, as he gulped the ale, a little lightheaded. He put his pewter cup down rather too hard, and the room went silent. He looked around, knowing he had their attention and that he had to make it count.
“We need to talk,” he said firmly.
TWENTY THREE
Seanchai rose from his seat and surveyed the dwarves sitting around the great stone table. He resisted the urge to stretch his cramped muscles.
“My name is Seanchai, son of Seantai. I fled my home in Mothian Wood when the Emperor’s army came to conscript me. I have powers, as Ballendir has said, or, rather, I serve as a channel – a conduit, if you will – for the energy in the earth and all around us. I possess the ability to channel this energy. It is how I kept Ellendir alive.
“Many humans and elves worked together to send me on a dangerous journey to a great teacher, Mhari, who trained me to understand and use these powers. Before her teachings were complete, my friends – those we left nearby – were captured by the Emperor’s army. I went to Galbrieth, a large garrison that houses General Tarlach’s troops. There, together with my Master and Tutan allies, I rescued them from public execution, and we brought down one side of the Galbrieth fortress.
“You see that my hair is white, yet I am young. My body is toned as a warrior, yet as has been pointed out, I am still a calhei – a young elf.”
Seanchai paused, took a sip of ale, and looked around the table.
“Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a great alliance; a bond among all races. That alliance lasted for more than ten thousand years and was a time of prosperity and friendship. I’m sure your race has stories of this time, much like humans and elves.”
He paused to look at each of them and was met with nods of acknowledgement.
“The guardians of the Alliance were Wycaans. They came from each race and were trained to wield the power of energy. They were teachers, healers, and warriors. In my time with Mhari, I went through a transformation, and had a vision of the Alliance being rebuilt. I dream about it at night, seeing what I hope is a possibility for the future.
“I ask you to join me to help reforge the Alliance and stand against an evil despot who subjugates all our people.”
“Our people are not oppressed,” one dwarf said. “We live under our mountains as free dwarves.”
There was a murmur of agreement.
“Underground,” Seanchai said, his tone flat.
“Yes,” the same dwarf said. “We are dwarves. Dwarves live underground.”
“I have seen, in my visions, the city of Dur-Rhustan,” Seanchai replied, and there was a murmur around the table. “I have seen dwarves living in the great city, serving as rulers of the land in their turn. I have no qualms with a dwarf who chooses to live underground. That is, one who truly chooses to live underground.
“But when a dwarf lives underground in secret, when the famed hospitality of your race is not extended to all who pass, when dwarves rarely come above ground to trade in the light, when they scurry around in secret,” he pointed at Ballendir, “then I suspect there is a thin line between living underground and hiding underground. When the First Decree is the first welcome, then I question your claim to be free.”
There was a murmur again, distinctly less pleasant than before, but Seanchai held up his hand.
“There may or may not be dwarves who live in servitude to the Emperor. I don’t know. But I do know that if your people tried to live above ground, they would have a hard time, as we elves and many humans do.
“And I think you know it, which is why you go to such great lengths to keep your people safe and out of the Emperor’s line of vision. But I wonder: what if the Emperor discovered that there were dwarves living here and elsewhere, not acknowledging his rule and not pay
ing his taxes? What if, once the Emperor defeats the final remnants of the rebellion, he begins to look for a new enemy to conquer?”
He returned to his seat and took another sip of ale, careful just to wet his throat.
“The way I see it, you have two choices: You can join the Alliance and stand together with the rest of the dwarf nation, the free men, and the elves. Or, you can sit in the dark, watch from the shadows, and wait. But know that you will be called to fight eventually. Your decision isn’t about whether or not to fight; it is about when and with whom. Think well upon how you will fare if you stand alone?”
Several discussions broke out at once. The clan’s chief banged her pewter mug on the table, and the room fell into silence. One dwarf stood.
“We should not listen to his words. Our nation is spread throughout Odessiya. Our people live in well-fortified caverns. Only another dwarf could break through our defenses.”
“Really?” Seanchai asked. “How can you be so sure?”
“You saw how small our tunnels are, how they curve. They won’t allow anyone bigger than a dwarf to fight.”
“So they blow the tunnels up,” the elf shrugged.
The dwarf slapped his hand on the rock he was sitting in. “These are dense rocks. You need to know what you’re doing. You need to understand stone. Only a dwarf . . .”
He trailed off, and they all watched as Seanchai stood and stared at the rock cube he had been sitting on. It was heavy and dense, but he used his training to leverage his weight against the ground. He picked up the stone cube and put it on the beautiful table, which solicited murmurs of surprise from many and a groan of despair from Ballendir. Seanchai laid his hand on the rock and closed his eyes. He began his breathing.
“Are you planning to chop it?” sneered the dwarf who had been arguing with Seanchai. “I will summon our healer to put your hand back together.”
Some laughed, but most just stared at Seanchai. He opened his eyes and looked around. When he addressed those directly in front of him, he scarcely recognized his own voice. “Please step away from the table and stand behind me.”
Only Ophera followed his advice. She was sitting directly opposite him. Ballendir also rose, though he was standing next to Seanchai. Seanchai’s body was suffused in warmth, and his palms vibrated. He moved his hands behind him and shifted his weight to his back foot. Then he pushed his hands forward, shifting momentum to his front foot – it was a blur to everyone watching.
The cube flew across the table and straight into the opposing wall, smashing to bits on impact. Many of the dwarves dove for cover. Seanchai calmly walked around and picked up a small slab. As the dwarves stared at him, he tore it apart with his bare hands. Then he turned and inspected the dent and cracks in the wall.
“Sorry about that,” he said, tossing a small rock in his hand. “You’re right; it really is a very dense rock.”
He returned to where his seat used to be and was wondering whether he could request another cube to sit on when he saw that a breathless dwarf had entered the cavern. He was whispering furiously into the clan chief’s ear.
After a moment, Rothendir looked around and announced, “There is an army assembling in the valley. Already they have sent scouting parties into the mountains.” She looked at Seanchai. “We have moved your friends for their own safety.”
Seanchai suppressed a desire to ask if they were unharmed. Rothendir had not finished.
“There are many men and a host of pictorians.”
“I’d like to see them trolls try and enter our seams,” said the dwarf who had objected before, more out of bravado than actual confidence.
“The pictorians will not enter the tunnels,” Rothendir replied evenly, her voice taut. “Many dwarves march in their ranks.”
The room erupted into cries of disbelief. Seanchai could only watch as the volume grew. Then he noticed Ballendir stand and smash his pewter down on the table. Instantly the room went quiet.
“Our Lady, the Priestess of Hothengold,” he announced, “wishes to speak.”
All eyes in the cavern moved to Ophera.
TWENTY FOUR
Seanchai leaned against the cavern wall and watched the council settle down. He had a distinct feeling that with the arrival of this news, he was no longer a participant in the conversation. He had made his request and the dwarves had to make their own decision now.
He looked across at Ophera, whom he thought until just recently was a servant to Ballendir’s family. Bringing her here must have been the mission Ballendir wouldn’t acknowledge.
When she spoke, her soft voice resonated through the cavern. She had his and the dwarves’ absolute attention. More dwarves entered and stood against the walls to listen to their spiritual leader.
“Many, many years ago, our clan brought me here to be your guide. Throughout our long and proud history, the priestesses have served our people with teaching, healing, and guidance. In the richest of times, we served as the foundation of renaissance. In the darkest of times, our counsel has kept the dwarf nation alive.”
She glanced at Seanchai. “Now heed my words. I have observed this young elf both as a warrior and a healer. I have seen him dispense of pictorians and wolfheids with swords and raw power – energy that he yielded without the use of stones. Even in the greatest intensity of battle, I saw how he looked out for his friends. And, despite leaving the battlefield exhausted, he always came straight over to help heal my acolyte, Ellendir, expending whatever energy he had left to keep her alive. He is driven by friendship and principles.
“Our people have a rich history, but never was it richer than when we lived at one with our neighbors in the days of the Great Alliance, when the Wycaan Masters were the stewards of the land of Odessiya. Of this I have read and also seen in dream quests. I know it to be true.”
She looked around the room, challenging any who might disagree. Her voice grew stronger.
“Long have our people lived away from the light of the empire. We justify our isolation from the races because of the great betrayal and excuse ourselves because neither this despotic Emperor nor his fathers before him were directly hurting us.
“Yet now we hear that this Emperor has conscripted dwarves and trained them to fight other dwarves. A conscript is a slave, and our people are no longer safe above or below the earth.”
There was a murmur and nodding of heads.
“It is true that we have built formidable defenses here. But we designed these defenses to fight man and pictorian. Do we stand and fight fellow dwarves who serve against their will? Has that ever been a part of our proud history?”
Again, she scanned the room, seeing a mix of discord and confusion.
“We will prepare for battle, even as we also prepare to leave. We shall engage the enemy, for we must ascertain that a dwarf will indeed raise axe against another dwarf on the orders of a human ruler.
“The young who have trained for war will test their mettle alongside the elders. The families will begin to evacuate.” She looked over at Seanchai. “You and your friends will stay and fight alongside us. It is important that you prove your loyalty.”
Seanchai nodded.
“We will gradually collapse the mountain. The young soldiers and the elf’s company will flee through the tunnels of the Great Low Way, along the serpent’s trail, to the capital at Hothengold. Ballendir, you will lead them. I will tend to Ellendir as best I can.”
The dwarf nodded, though Seanchai could feel his sadness.
“Tonight we will send five of our swiftest messengers out to each of the great clans, telling of what has transpired and summoning them to the capital.”
“Do you think they will come, Mother?” the red-haired dwarf asked.
“We will declare a Clansfelt,” she said coldly, and her face hardened. “It is binding to all.”
Now the buzz grew louder.
“But one has not been called for over fifty years!” someone exclaimed in amazement.
; “Indeed,” Ophera replied patiently. “It has been far too long. But a decision must be made, and it involves all the clans.” She stared at Seanchai. “If we are to answer the call of the Wycaan, it must be with the strength and unity of the entire dwarf nation.”
General Tarlach strode into his command tent, thankful to be out of the incessant rain that hadn’t ceased once since they arrived in the valley below the Bordan Mountains. General Shiftan had offered to lead the raid against Shayth and the elf’s company to determine where the dwarves were and what they were facing for the full-blown battle. If the confrontation had escalated, Shiftan would be on-hand to kill Shayth.
Now, as he waited to receive a report from this raid, Tarlach was pretty sure he was ready to kill the boy himself. His wife and son were in danger, as was the flawless military reputation he had worked so hard to build. But he was secretly grateful that Shiftan was willing to deal with Shayth. He was a good friend.
When the general entered, half a dozen officers snapped to attention. He found Shiftan and a ranger crouching over a map that was fast becoming a model as soldiers built paths and ridges.
“General Shiftan,” Tarlach said.
His friend straightened up. “Aah, General Tarlach. This is Mialano, my chief ranger. He has been with me for three years now. Mialano, if you please?”
“General Tarlach, sir. We attacked the camp as planned, engaging the enemy with two human sixers. General Shiftan and I observed from this point, along with two other sixers ready to fight.” His finger touched the map. “Two additional rangers were at the point of contact, though they did not engage the enemy directly.
“We were quickly able to ascertain that the lead elf and the dwarves had already left the camp. With two others, I followed their trail.
“We tracked them to the dwarf stronghold, but could see no way in without being detected. I believe that it will be difficult for humans to enter and impossible for pictorians. I have rangers scouting the mountain to determine if there are additional entrances.”