“It be a runnin’ joke with me clan. Meanin’ be ‘exit only’ in the dwarven language.”
“Clever,” said Urza.
Rakzar snorted. “Enough resting. Let’s get the crystal to your brother so he can make us a weapon.”
Normak laughed heartily. “Me brother ain’t be an expert in forgin’ or cuttin’. Ya best do it yerself if ya be relyin’ on ‘im.”
“Whatever,” growled Rakzar. “We’re running out of time. Let’s move.”
† † †
After dropping Rakzar, Urza, and Rayah off with Verdik Shardshaper, their master crystologist, Normak headed down to the armory. Inside the armory, he headed toward the back where he knew his brother would be. Always predictable, Torbrek leaned against a large table with his back to Normak, talking with a younger female dwarf named Ridan Strongblade. Normak chuckled to himself.
Sly devil.
If nothing else distinguished them as brothers, he and Torbrek had a way with women, and not just those of their own race. Humans, elves, halflings, giants, hamadryads, and faeries to name a few. On one occasion, he had to fake his own death and hide out down in the catacombs for almost two weeks to avoid the advances of an overzealous orc named Brulach. He shuddered thinking about the burly female and her natural odor.
As he thought back on it, Rayah had been the only female he could remember that didn’t fawn over him. She hadn’t fawned over Torbrek either. Alas, the beautiful dryte intrigued him, and her indifference made him want to pursue her.
What makes ‘er different?
That question needed answered, and he’d do everything possible to figure it out. Given time, she’d come around. Perhaps he’d join them on their next quest so that he could continue to work his charm on her. In a fortnight, she’d be begging to lie with him.
It be settled. I be goin’ where she do.
Torbrek would understand. He’d do the same if duty didn’t bind him to the armory.
Ridan’s gaze met his as he strode toward her, and color rose into her cheeks. She’d spent many a night snuggled up next to him. He figured she’d spent several nights with Torbrek as well but didn’t care to ask. He had no claim on her, nor did he want one, but that wouldn’t stop him from teasing her.
Normak pulled Ridan into an embrace when he reached her and buried his tongue in her mouth. Her tongue tasted of ale and cloves. Not only did she not resist his advance, she wrapped her hands around his buttocks and squeezed him tighter for several seconds after he tried to pull back.
“I didn’t think I’d see ya again,” she said, her eyes glistening in the torchlight.
Torbrek clasped Normak’s shoulder, a smirk on his face. “Then you don’t know my brother. Not even Nasda could take him down.”
Normak turned and faced Torbrek, a grin on his face. “Aye, but she tried ‘er damnedest.”
Torbrek leaned back against the table again and crossed his arms. “Well?”
Normak frowned and motioned toward Ridan with his head and eyes. “Now?”
“What we’re trying to accomplish is no secret—” Torbrek winked at Ridan. “—especially among close friends.”
Normak shrugged. “So be it.” He unslung his pack from his shoulder, sat it on the table, and slid it over to Torbrek. “‘Ave yerself a gander.”
Torbrek took the pack and dumped its contents onto the table. His eyes grew wide when the cluster of nagi siren eggs plopped down. He glanced up at Normak.
Normak grinned. “Pretty, ain’t they?”
Ridan gasped. “Are those…”
“Nagi siren eggs,” Normak finished. “Would ‘ave grabbed more but time be short.”
“Six is good.” Torbrek pulled one of the eggs from the cluster with a grunt. Tendrils of sticky green slime roped between it and the others. He held it up to the torchlight. A shadow moved within the translucent egg and coiled against the side closest to the torch. “Still alive…”
“Can I hold one?” asked Ridan.
Torbrek severed the sticky tendrils with a dagger and handed the egg to Ridan. “Be careful with it. The bite from a naga or nagi siren baby can be fatal.”
Ridan held the egg in her palms and stroked it with her thumbs. “Feels so strange. Soft as silk yet tough as leather. Wet and dry simultaneously.”
Normak dug his finger in his ear, certain he hadn’t heard his brother right. “What ya say? Little buggers be venomous?”
Torbrek nodded. “Yes, but only until they’re old enough to defend themselves. The glands that produce their venom eventually dry up.”
“Geesh.” Normak rubbed his chin. “Would ‘ave been good ta know before riskin’ me life gettin’ ‘em.”
“Those books of yours didn’t say anything about it?” asked Torbrek.
Normak shook his head. “Nay a damned word aboot it.”
Ridan handed the egg back to Torbrek. “So what’s the plan with those? Breed them and sell them on the dark market?” She chuckled nervously.
Torbrek guffawed. “Not a chance. We’ll study the makeup of the eggshell and find a way to create armor in a similar fashion.”
Ridan scrunched up her face. “I’m not following you. What do the eggs have to do with armor?”
“Everythin’.” Normak took Torbrek’s dagger and stabbed the egg with it, but the blade harmlessly glanced off the egg’s side. Then he tried to saw through the egg with the dagger, but it couldn’t penetrate the eggshell. He held up the egg. “See? Nothin’ amiss.”
“There is that, but far more as well,” said Torbrek. “Not only is the eggshell light and virtually indestructible, but it is resistant to the elements as well. Watch.” He grabbed the torch from the sconce on the wall and held it next to the egg. The flames scorched the tabletop but didn’t leave a mark on the egg.
“That’s remarkable,” said Ridan. “Armor like that could change warfare completely.”
Torbrek placed the torch back in its sconce. “Yes it would, and its resistance to elements include those conjured and manipulated by mezhik.”
Ridan ran her hand back through her long blond hair as she stared at the egg with wonder. “Damn…”
“Aye,” said Normak, his eyes focused on Ridan’s curved form. She’d share his bed later.
“Did you bring back anything else?” Torbrek looked right at Normak with expectancy.
“Risked me life fer those,” grumbled Normak. “Be happy I even got ‘em.”
Torbrek slapped Normak on the back. “Ease up, brother. You’ve done well. Very well.”
No matter how much time Normak spent with his brother, he could never read Torbrek. It frustrated him without end. One day, he’d find a way to return the favor.
He pulled Torbrek into a headlock and kissed the top of his head. “This call fer a celebration?”
Torbrek broke away from the hold. “Perhaps a small one at the pub, but nothing more. Understood?”
Normak brooded. “Aye.”
“Cheer up, brother.” He patted Normak’s shoulder. “Once we’ve unlocked the secrets of the naga and nagi siren eggs we’ll notify the king. You will be honored as a hero.”
Normak shrugged. “If I be ‘ere.”
“Meaning what?” demanded Torbrek.
Normak avoided his brother’s gaze. “Thinkin’ aboot goin’ with Urza and the others. Got me a bug fer adventure.”
“You’re a damned fool.” Torbrek sighed. “These eggs were the only reason I sent you to Nasda. There’s no need to go risking your life again, especially when you’ve not been invited to do so.”
Normak huffed, “Thought Urza be yer friend.”
“What does she have to do with this?”
“She and Rayah are dyin’. That’s why they be needin’ the weapon.”
“Oh, I see.” Torbrek blew air from his nostrils and shook his head. “Rayah’s got your head turned, hasn’t she?”
Normak glanced at Ridan and swallowed hard. “N
ay. Me intentions be noble and such.”
Ridan laughed. “I don’t think ya have a noble bone to your name. Ya chase tail faster than a hound after a rabbit.”
“Oy! That be unfair,” groaned Normak.
“It can’t be unfair if it’s accurate,” retorted Torbrek.
Ridan returned to his side and grabbed his right buttocks. “Don’t worry. It changes nothing between us. I’ll just have to try harder to keep your attention focused on me.” She squeezed his buttocks harder. “I do love a challenge.”
Normak grabbed his face and pulled on his beard. “Both of yeh be vipers.” He shoved everything back into his pack, sans the eggs, and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll round up the others an’ meet ya both at the pub.”
“Can’t wait to meet this Rayah,” said Ridan. “She must be a looker.”
“That she is,” said Torbrek. “Wings and all.”
Ridan cocked her head, her eyebrows raised. “Wings?”
Normak shook his head and walked away.
Them wings be mezhik.
† † †
Rakzar slammed his fist down on the pub table the six of them sat around. Ale sloshed from several of the wooden tankards, spotting the table with puddles of golden liquid. “How long does it take to cut a crystal and mount it to a weapon?”
“Relax,” said Torbrek. He sat across from Rakzar, a tankard clutched between his small hands. “Verdik is the best at what he does, but crystals are quite delicate and take lots of care when being cut. I assure you that it’ll be ready when it’s ready, my friend.”
Rakzar glared at Torbrek. He’d eaten animals larger than the dwarf. “We’re not friends. Nor are we acquaintances.”
Torbrek held up his hand. “Fair enough. Perhaps one day we will be.”
“Don’t count on it,” Rakzar growled.
Amicus sat at the end of the table, next to Rakzar. A smile plastered his face as he eyed Rakzar’s tankard. “I don’t think it’d hurt for you to be nice every once in a while.”
Rakzar shook his fist at Amicus. “You just don’t get it, do you? I don’t need or want you around.”
“Yet here I am.” Amicus’s smile widened. “Look around. You’re surrounded by friends and people who love and care about you. Can’t you be content with that for a few hours?”
Rakzar sighed. “How can I be when I know they’re all headed to their graves?”
“Open your eyes, my friend.” Amicus laid his hand on Rakzar’s forearm. “They’re the ones dying, not you. Yet they’re the ones enjoying themselves. Is it just me, or is that ironic?”
Rakzar didn’t understand how he could feel the touch of a man long dead, yet he did. Moreover, that touch gave him a sense of comfort. His mind couldn’t wrap itself around such absurdity.
“I’m sorry, Torbrek.” The words tasted bitter on Rakzar’s tongue, especially the “sorry” one.
Torbrek lifted his tankard. “Think nothing of it. I certainly won’t be after a few more of these.” He pitched his head back, drained what remained of his ale, and slammed the tankard back down.
Rakzar nursed his ale. He planned on leaving Tectus the moment Verdik finished the weapon and didn’t want to do so drunk. Given his size, he could knock back several rounds without blinking, but dwarven ale tended to be a dozen times more potent than that of other races. One would suffice.
Urza sat to his left. She looked a bit livelier than she had earlier, but he still worried about her. How much longer did she have before the curse ran its course?
I must kill Käíeƨ. Sooner than later.
Rayah sat on the opposite side of the table, sandwiched between Torbrek and Normak. Several times in the past hour, she’d moved Normak’s hand away from hers. The man seemed oblivious to Rayah’s rejections of his advances. Rakzar would have to keep an eye on the situation. Ale always makes men—and women for that matter—lose their inhibitions and causes them to do things they normally wouldn’t. Rayah’s heart belonged to the White Knight, and he’d defend her honor to the death if need be.
But it won’t come down to that.
From what he gathered, Ridan sought Normak for herself. She sat on the same side of the table as him, on the other side of Urza. The young dwarf seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, notwithstanding her infatuation with Normak. Her eyes never wavered from watching him.
Normak jumped to his feet and climbed onto the table. The other four grabbed their mugs and held them close. Rakzar left his where it sat. He could care less if it got knocked over.
“Everyone, get off yer tuchuses and put yer hands ta’gether!” shouted Normak. “It be time fer a bit ‘o song ‘n dance.”
The entire pub clapped and roared with laughter as Normak danced and sang his song:
A tankard of ale is all it takes
Ta set yer spirit free
Rightin’ the wrong of past mistakes
It’s good enough fer me
Aye! Aye! Aye!
A nibble, a touch, a little kiss
Can set yer heart afire
Just don’ get caught by yer miss
Or ye be on the pyre
Aye! Aye! Aye!
The song seemed to go on for days with more stanzas than one ought ever remember. After listening to the first few, Rakzar tuned it all out. He set his mind on the upcoming task. Even with a weapon that could kill her, Käíeƨ would still be difficult to defeat. He prayed that Murtag and the orcs hadn’t moved on from the valley yet. If they had, he’d have to track her down.
A bald dwarf with a goatee and spectacles entered the pub and headed straight for their table. The dwarf bowed slightly toward Torbrek and then proceeded to whisper something in his ear. At least it seemed that way, but he could’ve just as easily shouted given the noise level. The man turned and walked back out of the pub.
Torbrek motioned Rakzar to follow him and headed out of the pub. Rakzar fell in right behind Torbrek, easily keeping pace with the man’s quick but short strides. Urza and the others pursued from behind but quickly caught up as they headed down into the fifth level of Tectus. Rakzar assumed they were heading back to the armory and they did just that.
Verdik Shardshaper stood just inside and held a large object wrapped in a black cloth. Rakzar resisted the urge to snatch it from the man’s tiny hands.
Once the six of them piled into the armory, Verdik unfolded the black cloth, revealing an ornate dagger with a translucent orange blade. The blade extended about five inches from the golden crossguard, and the black handle reminded Rakzar of a large claw, hooked at the end. He’d never seen anything quite like it.
Rakzar reached for the dagger but Urza knocked his arm down.
“Don’t be so impatient,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “You don’t know how it works or how to handle it.”
“It’s a dagger,” he growled. “How complicated can it be?”
Verdik cleared his throat. “Let me give you a brief demonstration.”
Torbrek glanced at Rakzar. “Yes, please do.”
Behind Verdik sat an elongated table. Several containers spread down its length. Verdik moved around to the other side of the table and stood behind the first container. He laid the dagger and black cloth down on the table and picked up the container.
“I’ve filled this container with water.” He tilted it and a small amount of water splashed onto the table. Then he took the knife in his other hand and held it over the table. “Watch.” His eyes sparkled behind thick spectacles. He began pouring water onto the table and then plunged the knife into the steady stream. At once, every drop of water turned into solid ice, from the container all the way down to what had pooled on the table surface.
“Whoa,” said Normak.
The rest of them kept quiet.
Verdik pulled the blade from the ice, and the ice immediately turned back into water. He demonstrated the dagger’s power several more times with sand and other various
liquids and powders. The effect was truly mesmerizing.
“Those demonstrations are great,” said Rakzar, “but what about other things like smoke and steam?”
Verdik smiled and pulled a piece of parchment out of one of his pockets. “Ridan, would you be so kind as to assist me with this?”
Ridan nearly squealed, “Yes!” She rounded the table and stood next to Verdik. “What do ya want me to do?”
“Grab one of the torches.” He crumpled the parchment and tossed it on the table while she retrieved a torch. ‘Now, light the paper on fire.”
She did, and red smoke rose from the paper in a plume reminiscent of a thunderhead. Verdik stabbed the dagger into the smoke and it solidified into a smoky-red glass. Verdik peered over the top of his spectacles. “Satisfied?”
“To no end,” said Urza.
Rakzar grinned. Käíeƨ is dead.
Verdik pulled the blade from the smoky glass, and the smoke began rising again. He wrapped it in the black cloth and presented it to Rakzar. “Be very careful with this. A single nick from its blade could cause someone’s blood to turn to tar.”
Rakzar nodded. “Thank you for doing this. You’ve saved countless lives.”
“It’s always a pleasure working with new and rare materials.” Verdik moved around the table and exited the armory.
Rakzar placed the dagger underneath his breastplate. “I must leave at once.”
Torbrek stood in his path. “There are a few matters to discuss before you leave. First, take this. It will make transportation of the blade easier.” He presented Rakzar with a sheath. “That sheath is made from elven earthsteel and skinned in leather. It will keep the blade safe during your travel.”
Rakzar pulled the dagger back out from behind his breastplate and unwrapped it. The dagger, hefty for its size yet perfectly balanced, slid into the sheath with ease and fit snugly. He strung the sheath onto his belt. “Thank you.”
Torbrek nodded. “Now, based on everything you’ve told me about the situation you’re facing, I insist that my brother accompanies you once again. He’s fast on his feet and a cunning warrior.”
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