* * *
Strom wrinkled his nose as he poured a foul mixture into a glowing rune. "What is this?"
"Wine and pickle juice," Durin responded with a shrug. "It's all that was left." But then he fell back. Wisps of steam escaped the rune, then more steam came and the whistling sound grew. An instant later, the whistling abruptly stopped, and the floor trembled. When the trembling stopped, Durin watched the truth settle onto Strom's face by the light of a shaking torch. By pouring liquid into the rune, they had done something that would have wide-reaching consequences. For Durin, it was the second time he'd had one of these realizations, and the second was no better than the first.
"By the gods," Strom said, looking down at the steaming rune then at the now open hall leading into the darkness.
"You said Brother Vaughn called that one respite. That should mean safety, right?" Durin asked, wanting reassurance and knowing that had been Strom's argument for selecting the rune, but screams from above drove them both to move.
"What have I done?" Strom asked aloud as they ran. "What was I thinking?"
"You said it would've taken too long for everyone to agree on what to do, so you were making the decision for them."
The screaming and shouting continued, and Strom looked like he might be sick.
"Where in the depths have you been?" Miss Mariss barked when they arrived at the forge.
Strom couldn't find words, and Durin followed his example.
"Idiots. The keep has up and moved again, and by the sound of it, some of the demons are trapped as well. They certainly don't sound happy."
"I know now why the keep moved," Strom said at last, and Miss Mariss stopped. "Durin caused it the first time, and I caused it the second time." Miss Mariss looked as if she would shift from stunned to a full-blown rage, so Strom spoke more quickly. "I wasn't sure it would work. Durin's experience could have been a coincidence, and I knew it would take too long to come to a consensus, and we needed everyone to continue working on the barrier, so I . . ."
"You acted like an irresponsible fool and could have killed us all. You should be ashamed of yourselves, both of you. Now the demons are even more determined to break down our barrier."
"Respite," Durin said, looking up at Strom.
"A new corridor has opened," Strom said. "I think Durin and I should explore it and see what new resources we have available to us."
"Or what new dangers we face. You fools. Fine. Go. Just try not to make things worse."
Durin flushed and he could see Strom wasn't faring much better. It made him feel very good that even someone as strong and skilled as Strom could still feel guilt under Miss Mariss's stare. Perhaps there was hope for him yet, Durin thought. Then again, he knew Miss Mariss had not yet realized there were pickles and wine missing.
Strom grabbed more torches and his hammers. Durin looked around for something to arm himself with but found only a rasp. Strom gave him a disapproving look. "You're gonna have a hard time filing your way out of trouble." After what looked like a moment of pure conflict, Strom reached up and grabbed something from the back of the tallest shelf in the smithy. He shoved a cold, black handle into Durin's hand. "I want that back."
"I thought you didn't make weapons?" Durin asked after drawing a gleaming, curved blade from the sheath. The handle felt good in his palm, solid and smooth but with an unusual texture that provided a sure grip. Durin looked in amazement at the finely crosshatched lines that made up the grip. Never before had he seen such precision. The blade itself was black, but the edge gleamed silver and promised blood.
"Knives are not always weapons," Strom said without looking at Durin.
"You don't expect me to believe that you made this for cutting cheese, do you?"
Strom stopped and glared.
"Right. Uh, sorry."
Not far ahead, in a room that had once been a storeroom, despite the glowing runes in the floor, now waited respite--at least Durin hoped that was what awaited them.
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