What greeted his eyes next was not a pretty sight.
He had never before seen any dwarf cities, but he had heard of them. The dwarves were architectural masters, capable of forming the most exquisite things from stone. Thomas had heard more than a few tales about how their cities were carved from the mountains themselves, and in those mountains held riches that helped the dwarves mine ever deeper.
None of this is what Thomas saw.
Stone columns had been toppled, severed by an unknown force. Gold and silver had been strewn everywhere, forgotten by the invading force. Shops were still burning, their stone starting to crumble from the heat. Whatever goods they were selling had been destroyed, and the entire city appeared abandoned.
It was only when Thomas noticed the distinct lack of bodies that he was able to fight down the urge to throw up.
“Where are they? Where are the dwarves?” he asked Cynthia, who had appeared at his side.
“The dwarves were able to find shelter before the attack. We’ve heard that a small band of dwarves tried to fight, but they… they were…”
“Overrun,” Thomas supplied, bowing his head.
“Apparently, someone came to warn them of the attack,” Cynthia said.
“I should have been the one,” Thomas said angrily, “I should have left Verdonti as soon as I warned the Chancellor! I should have come here, maybe then they would have stood a chance.”
“There was nothing you could have done,” Cynthia said consolingly, placing a hand on his arm. “Besides, the Chancellor was corrupt. Would you have left me there to rot?”
Thomas wasn’t sure if she was joking or trying to make him feel better via guilt, but neither one had the effect of cheering him up. He simply hung his head and stared at the desolation he couldn’t even fathom.
“You warned the elves,” Thomas said, “I didn’t have to go there. But I didn’t think… I never imagined…”
“Hey, you’re awake!”
Zach’s now familiar voice broke into their conversation, and Thomas looked his new friend in the eye with as little sadness as he could.
“How you feeling, buddy?” Zach asked, standing at his other side. Thomas simply shook his head, unable to put into words everything he was feeling.
“He… he blames himself for what happened here,” Cynthia said, and Thomas didn’t have the strength left to refute her. Especially considering she was right.
Zach actually slapped Thomas upside his head, which was actually really painful considering how bad his head hurt already.
“Ow!” Thomas yelled, “what was that for?”
“There’s nothing we could have done. They attacked here the same time they attacked Verdonti. If we had skipped training with the Keeper, we would have been here. And we would have died.”
“So either way, the decision I made was wrong,” Thomas said. Either he could have left to warn the dwarves and died, or he could have stayed and the dwarves would have suffered.
Thomas shook his head, feeling the cool morning air for the first time. What was going on in his head? When had his thought become so… dark?
It had to be this quest, this adventure. What was it doing to him?
“C’mon, buddy, shake it off,” Zach said, placing a consoling arm on Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas nodded again, letting his friends lead him to the outpost and dwarf survivors there. It was quite the trek down the tower, the carved stone all blurring together as he walked.
“What’s happened to Morando?” Thomas asked as they entered a balcony overlooking the valley that lead to the rest of the world.
“He’s been tending to the wounded that are still in the city. Putting his healing skills to good use,” Zach said.
“Hope he makes it back before we need to go,” Thomas said with a brave attempt at a smile, “we need a Healer for the group.”
It wasn’t until he literally walked into what felt like a solid wall that he realized that he had run into a dwarf.
“Pardon me,” Thomas said. He was surprised at how tall the dwarves were. In the stories, they were always short, barely half the size of a man. But in the flesh, they were only a head or so shorter than he was. This particular dwarf had a full red beard and a jolly smile on his face, which Thomas thought was a bit out of place given the circumstances.
“Not a problem, little one,” the strangely happy dwarf said, seeing if Thomas was hurt. Other than a little sore, Thomas was more excited to see a real life dwarf. He was well toned, no doubt from working the forges. He was dressed in a blacksmith’s apron, and had a large hammer tied to his black belt.
“So you’re a smith?” Thomas asked as he started walking with the dwarf.
“Aye, that I am,” the dwarf replied without breaking stride, “one of the members of the sixth legion. Names Gilkor. Charged with making armor forged from the strongest steel, we are. Not that it helped us…”
His voice changed so suddenly Thomas felt his own heart break. “What happened?”
“A woman appeared. One of your kind, she was. Yelling to anyone that would listen that they were coming, that they were coming to destroy us all. Naturally, we raised our defenses in preparation, but she told us that would do nothing. We had to flee. At first, we were… reluctant. But then the first wave of those things came…”
As he trailed off, Thomas’ head bowed. “Were you able to repel them?”
“Only just. They weren’t capable of pain nor defeat. We thought they were made of wood, but it was a wood that refused to catch flame or be chopped down. Whatever they were, they were beyond our ability to defeat. We lost more than a few good men just keeping them out. It was then King Bilo gave the order, and a small force stayed behind to cover our escape.”
Thomas was silent before thinking about the woman. “The one who came to warn you, was she dressed in a robe? Brown hair?”
The dwarf shook his head. “No, she was wearing no robe. Red hair though. Flying like a fire, it was.”
Thomas nodded, letting the silence take the moment. So Chancellor Valerium wasn’t there after all.
As the dwarf finished his tale, they apparently reached their destination. There were two dwarves inside, working a piece of metal over an anvil. Thomas watched, enthralled, as the sparks flew from every hammer strike.
“You seem enchanted, boy,” Gilkor said, “care to take a swing? We can teach you a thing or two.”
Thomas was extremely torn, but he had goals he had to achieve, and learning to smith was not one of them. At least, not yet.
“I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t tempted,” Thomas said, “but I’m afraid we have to…” he stopped as a new thought suddenly struck him. “Hey, is there any chance y’all can temper this sword?”
With the eyes of three different dwarves on him, Thomas drew the General’s sword from its sheath. As soon as the blue-hued blade caught the light, all three of them shared an identical gasp.
“It can’t be…” Gilkor said, “not the General’s blade?”
“That be the one,” Thomas replied, “and the thing is duller than a butter knife and most of its power has been all used up.”
“Then you’ve got a long way to go, friend,” one of the dwarves working the forge said. He had a red beard that nearly reached his toes, and Thomas was both sure and terrified that he was going to set it ablaze. “Only the originals can make that blade whole again.”
“The originals?” Thomas repeated, bemused.
“Aye,” Gilkor replied, “the Makers.”
Thomas felt a thrill run down his spine that seemed quite strange for the circumstances at hand. Maybe it was just the reverence that Gilkor said the name with. “Who are the Makers?”
“A Maker,” Gilkor explained, “is the very best a dwarf smith can become. The best. They say the Makers can forge a castle from a single plate of steel. That’s um… that’s ridiculous, o’ course, but you get the point.”
Thomas nodded. Being a Maker sounded wonderful. For a fleeting moment, Thomas wondered
if there were any Maker-like classes for stable boys. Maybe he could be the first!
Cynthia’s voice brought him back to reality.
“So we need to see the Makers to fix the sword?”
“Aye lass,” Gilkor replied, “only the original forgers can put it right again.”
Thomas nodded, even as he tried to surpress as sigh. It seemed every time they got a step closer, two more steps would appear to block them.
Then their journey got even more complicated.
“So where are these Makers?” Zach asked, inserting himself into the conversation for the first time.
“They’re on top of the mountain, where the volcano and the river meet,” Gilkor said. He stated it as pure fact, but the very notion of the sentence left Thomas and his friends completely shocked. Top of a mountain? With a volcano and a river?
“I’m sorry,” Thomas said, trying and failing to come to grips with what he was hearing, “what?”
“Aye. The peak of that there mountain, Mount Caminus.”
Thomas followed Gilkor’s pointing finger to a cliff so high it was encompassed by the clouds.
“That’s a bit of a trek,” was all Thomas was capable of saying.
“Not to worry. In about a week, the smoke will clear, signaling the time that we can approach.”
That news both shocked and didn’t sit well with Thomas, whose jaw only dropped further.
“What?” he said, “we have to wait a week just ta meet with the Makers?”
“Oh yeah. The smoke means they’re forging something, and trying to climb the path is just plain dangerous. Once the smoke clears, then we can head up.”
“We?” Thomas said, noticing immediately, “you’re coming with us?”
“You’ll need a guide. Going up there alone is almost guaranteed to kill you.”
“Oh,” Thomas replied. At last, some good news, “well thank you kindly.”
“But what do we do in the meantime?” Zach asked, a look of complete unease on his face. “We don’t have a lot of time to just wait around.”
Thomas paced thoughtfully, trying to pull together everything he knew. It was quite a lot to sift through, but eventually he managed to pull most of it together.
“We train,” he said. “We hone our abilities. If the Keeper’s here, we learn what he’s willing to teach us. He teaches you the sword, he teaches me magic. We can learn to forge. We spend every waking hour learning how to fight those things.”
“What should I do?” Cynthia asked. Just the way her voice sounded, as if the words had been forced from her throat, made it clear that she had never before been allowed to ask such a question. So as such, there was only one real answer.
“Whatever you want, darling. Learn to fight. Learn to forge. Learn to wield magic. Whatever you want to do, go do.”
Cynthia looked away, and Thomas couldn’t begin to guess what the girl was thinking. After a few moments, she turned back to them with a coy smile that made Thomas’ hair stand on end, as if his cells had been charged.
“Well then, the first thing I’m going to do is wear some pants,” she said. Thomas’ tongue betrayed him, as it got tied up right as he was about to reply.
“I’m not a magic-caster,” she continued. “I can’t use magic.”
“If you say so,” Thomas replied evenly.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I remember when we first met. When we first escaped the bandits. You wanted to go to Verdonti because they would protect us. I kind of think it was for the same reason. Maybe you don’t want to admit it, but yer a magic-caster too.”
Cynthia didn’t answer him, but the way she didn’t deny it convinced Thomas that he was correct.
“Well, I’m positive I ain’t a magic-caster,” Zach laughed, and the others joined him.
“Then I guess you’ll just have to be the best swordsman of ‘em all,” Thomas laughed. Zach nodded, and the three of them started laughing wildly. It was only when they heard the Keeper’s voice that they quieted, though their smiles were impossible to wipe away.
“What’s all this?” the Keeper said the moment they were in earshot, “why are you dallying about?”
“We were waiting for you,” Thomas said, thinking on his feet, “we have more training to do.”
“Training? What makes you think you’re worthy to be trained by me?”
“We’re still alive,” Thomas countered with his most charming smile. The Keeper seemed to think about it for a few moment before he finally nodded.
“Well then. We begin at once.”
Three days of hard training both exhausted Thomas physically but energized him mentally. It felt so good to be doing hard work again, even if it was a work he was mostly unfamiliar with. From the moment the sun rose to about midday, the Keeper instructed the three of them in the way of the sword. Even Gilkor joined them sometimes, but a sword was far more up close and personal for his liking.
“Prefer my bow,” he said, “nice safe distance, nice safe skill.” They would laugh, and the Keeper would shoo him away.
They would have a brief break to eat around midday before Gilkor trained them at the forge. Thomas was a fast learner, sustaining more burns but learning from his mistakes quickly. Zach enjoyed smashing things with the hammer, though sometimes he got too enthusiastic and dented what he was supposed to be repairing. Cynthia was quiet usually, focusing with all of her might. Though Thomas wouldn’t admit it, he found it breathtaking.
After the forge, they would have another meal before Thomas and Cynthia would get yelled at for a few hours while Zach sat under a tree and laughed while reading a book. The fact that Zach was reading a book made Thomas a bit jealous, seeing as he no longer had time to, but he was learning magic-casting. Unfortunately, his progress in the field was much slower than the others, and after three full days he wasn’t able to do much more than summon a flame with less effort.
The night of the third day came, and the three of them adjourned to their temporary living quarters. Thomas collapsed in his makeshift bed, completely exhausted. He was about to fall fast asleep when someone sat on him.
“Getting’ a bit personal, ain’t we?” Thomas grunted, trying to shift whoever was on top of him off.
“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy,” Cynthia replied, wiggling her butt for emphasis. Thomas didn’t trust himself to comment, so he simply rolled over in an attempt to throw her to the floor. This succeeded in absolutely nothing save now she was sitting on his lap.
“I’m trying to sleep,” Thomas said. “Zach, help me out here.”
His plea fell on emptiness, because Thomas discovered as he looked around that only he and Cynthia were present in the room.
“Where’s Zach?” Thomas asked.
“I don’t know,” Cynthia replied, “should we go look for him?”
“Well, this outpost is safe…” Thomas said, brow furrowed. Despite how safe they were, Thomas was still worried about Zach. This wasn’t the first time that Zach had gone off on his own, and he was perfectly allowed to do so, but every time previously he had said something.
“Yeah, it’s not as if something could happen to him,” Cynthia replied, though her eyes didn’t back up her statement in the least.
“Yeah, let’s go find out what he’s up to,” Thomas decided.
Together, they got up and walked back into the open air of the outpost. Things were winding down, meaning that the dwarves were starting to begin their nightly celebrations. They drank to being alive, drank to their families, drank to those without their families… they liked to drink. More than once, Gilkor had asked the humans to join them, but Thomas had always refused due to being dead tired.
It didn’t look like there would be any escaping it tonight. Taking a deep breath, Thomas took Cynthia’s hand and lead her into the first tavern they came across.
“Tom!”
Naturally, Gilkor was in it, drinking away as if the world was going to end tomorrow. He calle
d Thomas over, who initially shook his head but found Cynthia pushing him forward.
“Now’s not really the best time,” Thomas whispered, but she used the cover of the tavern noise to pretend she didn’t hear him.
“Well, finally decided to relax and have a pint, ey?” Gilkor said, summoning a flask from thin air. Thomas unwillingly took it, taking a sip. The pathetic tasting was noticed by both Cynthia and Gilkor, who insisted he take a drink like a real man.
“It’ll be but a sip compared to the dwarves, but hey, you’re only human,” Gilkor laughed. Then they both drank. It tasted bitter at first, then sweeter than honey mixed with a spark of something foreign, like a sour berry. The liquid burned feeling deep into his veins, energizing him with something he strongly suspected was courage.
“Gilkor, do you know where Zach is?” Thomas asked.
“Can’t rightly say. Ain’t he normally with you?”
“Yeah, but he’s disappeared. Normally he says something before takin’ off.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. He’s mostly a grown man, ha!”
Thomas smiled, but Gilkor’s words offered him no comfort. He couldn’t define why, but something seemed very off, and it made Thomas uneasy. He could feel his skin crawling from an indefinable worry. With nothing else to do but drink, he drained two or three flagon’s of all far faster than he should have.
“Why aren’t you drinkin’?” Thomas asked Cynthia, who only laughed.
“I serve the drinks, I don’t drink ‘em.”
“Well, you can now. You can do whatever you want. Hey, how come you were a barmaid, anyway?”
She shrugged and looked around, but no one was listening to them but Thomas. Gilkor was immersed in conversation with a female dwarf, and Thomas could practically smell the dwarf’s pick-up lines.
“It was my father’s pub,” Cynthia said, drawing Thomas’ attention back to her. “My mother worked it as a barmaid, and after she passed, I took her place. Then my father passed, and I became the owner.”
“Oh. Good living?”
“Yeah,” she smiled, “I made it through all right.”
“How many magic-casters did they execute near your pub?”
The Soul Forge Page 13