Into the Storm

by Christopher Johns

  “Do you need me further, Zeke?” She gave me the look that said everything I needed to know to make me shake my head. “I will see you shortly then.”

  “You?” She pointed from me to Maebe. “and her?!”

  “Which is why I believe that if you truly care for him, it’ll be okay.” She nodded as I spoke, looking out into the crowd. “There’s one more person I need to introduce you to. Rather, three people.”

  She looked at me in shock, and I laughed at her. “Some of them can wait, but two can’t.”

  “Rowland!” I barked, and the Dwarven man stopped inspecting a weapon and handed it back to its owner. “Thogan, you too!”

  “Why’re ye yellin’, lad?” Thogan’s gravelly tone from behind me made me jump slightly.

  “Fuck me!” I growled and rounded on him. “You’re a damned dwarf, stop being so sneaky! Thogan, this is Shellica Lighthand. Shellica, Thogan Swiftaxe, Maebe’s champion.”

  “I thought you all were her champions?” She looked at me curiously, then looked to Thogan, and her eyes rolled back in her head, her body buckling slightly. I stepped closer and grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her back to her feet with a small, but brutally jarring shake. You know, totally not revenge for throwing hundreds of items into a magical furnace after I worked my ass off on them.

  No clue what you’re talking about.

  “Don’t be frettin’ lassie.” Thogan took her hand and stood her up out of my vengeful grasp. “Been some time, but the hammer falls.”

  “A… and rises again.” Shellica all but whispered back, taking in the dwarf she ogled. “One of the first dwarves. Here. Alive.”

  “I been with Her Highness’ family for nigh on fourteen hunnerd years.” He clapped his hands excitedly. “I hold no doubt that me clan may not survive as it was, but I do hold out hope that our people thrive.”

  “Aye, we do.” Her shoulders fell, her face somber and suddenly weary. “But we are fractured. Clans roam the lands, and not all live under the earth as they did.”

  “Ours be a society who don’t hide.” Thogan nodded, clearly unbothered by the news. “We were meant to spread news of the Way. Though even in my time, there were those what gave us no end o’ gripin’ for it. These things happen. So long as our people prosper, I can be happy.”

  “Then, I look forward to hosting you, Thogan Swiftaxe.” She took her hands and placed them on his shoulders before whipping her head into his with a resounding crack of skulls.

  Thogan simply smiled and nodded his appreciation to her as Rowland stepped over to us at last. “What be goin’ on, Zeke? There’s weapons here what I can’t see the like of round these parts!”

  “Rowland, this is Vilmas’ clan head, Shellica Lighthand.” He blanched at the introduction. “Shellica, this is Rowland. He’s the smith here in Sunrise, and he’s a good friend to myself and the others. His weapons have saved lives.”

  “He be studyin’ the old ways of smithin’ with me as well.” Thogan clapped the younger dwarf on the shoulder and grinned. “Right keen mind, this one.”

  “I can imagine you’re not wasting time on the lad by the look of him and some of the armor and weapons I’ve seen that the boys carried.” Shellica’s genuine smile was heartening as she held out her hand for Rowland to take, even as her normal cultured way of speaking fell away. “Though he be a might bit on the weak lookin’ side for a dwarf I s’pose he’d be decent at swingin’ a hammer for hours on end.”

  I snorted.

  “Well, I’d be givin’ ye a hug, but I fear I’d snap ye in half, Mountain preserve ye.” Rowland started, and Shellica paused her laughing to see which way the younger dwarf would take the jab. “Ye don’t look like you’re out of the stone for too much longer.”

  Thogan and I hollered with laughter for several moments until Shellica clapped Rowland on the shoulder affectionately. “Good sense of humor, too!”

  “Aye, I be thinkin’ so.” Rowland grinned, then looked about nervously. “Lady Shellica, I heared a great deal about ye from Vilmas, an’ I feel honored to ask ye this question.”

  “What question, lad?” Shellica turned sharp eyes on him.

  “I’ve been courting Vilmas for a wee amount o’ time an’ I wanted to approach ye an’ ask fer her hand.” Rowland made a motion for Shellica to wait. “Afore ye give me yer answer, know that I promised meself to her, an’ tha’ I’d sooner stop smithin’ than hurt her. I swear on me beard an’ swingin’ arm.”

  “You swore this oath before a witness and the concerned party?” Shellica’s cautious tone surprised me.

  “He swore it before me,” I interjected on Rowland’s behalf. “While he’s a bit rough around the edges, he’s as honorable and kind as he is hairy. He took in a small human child as his own and raised her to adulthood. Taught her the Way and to craft with her hands as his god would expect all his children to do. Rowland is a great man and a better smith.”

  “I have seen the way that Vilmas pines for him,” Vrawn spoke over my head, Shellica’s eyes widening. “As her friend, she tells me a great deal, and any time she brings this man up, her eyes sparkle, and she blushes deeply.”

  Shellica marched over to stand in front of me, looking up at Vrawn with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. She stopped, her chest just about to crash into my hip as she glared up.

  “And who be you?” Shellica growled up at Vrawn. I went to answer for her, but she shoved me aside so I could no longer stand between them.

  “I am Vrawn, and I claim Vilmas as a beloved friend,” Vrawn answered calmly. “I will protect her and her interests as best as I can. She has told me of you, Shellica Lighthand. She looks up to you, admires your craft, and your bravery. You are all that she aspires to be.”

  “Honeyed words mean naught to me, lass.” Shellica snorted, but she leaned back a second later. “She really calls you friend?”

  “She does,” I confirmed, and both women shot me a look. “Hey look, she’s my friend too goddamnit. Hell, more than that, and I’m tired of this whole pissing match between the women in my life. Vrawn’s been her friend since she first stepped foot in this village, and that friendship stands taller than the hatred I know most Orcs and dwarves have for each other. Okay?”

  “Do you have any idea how much I don’t care about racial tensions, lad?” Shellica actually punched me as hard as she could in the gut, barely registering for me, though the act itself hurt my pride. “My own people feared my clan up until but a short time ago. You think I hold a grudge against someone I never met? How little do you think of your dear ol’ dwarven ma?”

  I rolled my eyes, Vrawn giggling at my expense made me smile though, and I suddenly found it impossible to glare at the old woman. Though she did keep smacking the shit out of my left arm saying something about, “...respect your elders you wee little shite. Answer for me? Put words in my mouth. Ought to have thrown you in the furnace. Don’t think I don’t know why you were so rough, just now. I’ll beat your gob if you touch me like that again.”

  I took her little tirade in stride with a smile, and she just stomped on my foot. That actually hurt for some reason, making me grunt and pull the limb up to me, hobbling away.

  “I take it you were taken aback that Vilmas was able to find a friend, let alone one so vastly different from her?” Vrawn smiled down at a nodding Shellica then looked at me. “I like her.”

  “And I you, sweet child.” Shellica patted Vrawn’s large hand affectionately before turning back to Rowland. “I respect you for following the old ways, but with my clan, all that matters is their happiness. If Vilmas says yes to you, then you are welcome to marry her. Tell me, what of your clan?”

  Rowland blinked at the question and puffed his chest out a bit. “I be clanless.”

  That took me a bit by surprise. “What about Craglim, and your family?”

  “They be a clan.” He frowned. “They been meanin’ to induct me in when I reached grandmaster rankin’ in smithin’, but when I chose to teach me
skill to those not o’ the stone, they cast me out an’ I have no family, now.”

  “Bullshit!” I frothed, blood rushing into my face and ears. “Where is that little bastard, I’ll beat their whole clan’s asses and hang them by their beards!”

  “Zeke!” Rowland snapped, his face as red as mine felt, and his hands balled at his sides. “It were their choice to waste what the Mountain taught, not mine. They’ve lost their Way, lad. An’ I’ll not make it worse. Not me, nor mine. Aye?”

  I grumbled vehemently, and he stomped his way over to me, grasping my shirt and pulling me down. “Not me, nor mine. Aye?”

  “Fine, but if I see that little bastard, he’s mine.” I harrumphed as hard as I could, feeling a pat on my elbow from the smaller man.

  “No clan?” Thogan grumbled with a frown. “I reckon you could join my clan then, lad.”

  “Clan Swiftaxe?” Rowland looked shocked.

  “It’s been dead long enough.” Thogan nodded. “We’ll share a great many things an’ one o’ ‘em bein’ the ancient tradition o’ the everyday dwarf. Warrior, creator, thinker, an’ drinker. We hold to the tradition tha’ a dwarf should be able to do it all. If ye can do tha’, I’ll take ye in, seein’ as though I be the only one left o’ me clan, that makes me the head, and this be my choice.”

  “I reckon I could do tha’.” Rowland shook the other dwarf’s hand, and they hugged once fiercely. “But why not sooner?”

  “Because I needed to know that I weren’t poachin’ ye from another who know’d ye better.” Thogan slapped the younger dwarf on the shoulder affectionately. “Ye been a good friend, lad. I think’d long an’ hard ‘bout what it would be like to bring me clan back. It’ll be long, harder than me head an’ gut and take patience, but if ye’ll stand with me, we will do it. Together.”

  “Then, I would be honored.” Rowland looked as though a tear had been brought to his eyes, but he sniffed and just hugged Thogan all the more fiercely.

  “Then Rowland of clan Swiftaxe, I Shellica Lighthand extend to you my blessing to ask your heart’s desire of Vilmas.” Shellica put a closed fist over her navel, bowing slightly at the waist. “I ask that you respect her decision no matter what it is. On your clan’s honor?”

  “On his clan’s honor, and my beard,” Thogan confirmed gravely, mirroring the movement.

  “Then I guess the only question is, where do you want to pop the question?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

  “She’s a special lass.” Rowland grinned and ran a hand through his beard where there was nothing holding the hair. “Somewhere near too many people will spook her. Somewhere too unfamiliar will spook her, though she has taken to a certain tree in the wood near me smithy. I think I’ll stay there with her tonight to ask.”

  “How do you know that she wouldn’t like to come home?” Shellica raised an eyebrow.

  “Because Xiphyre has her workin’ on projects that will keep her here.” Rowland's grin faded a little, then he looked my way. “An’ she expressed wantin’ to stay in the village when Vrawn said that she would be goin’ with Zeke on his next adventure.”

  The large woman’s fingers wrapped through mine, and Shellica raked me with a stern look that I ignored.

  “I wish you luck, Rowland.” I patted him on the shoulder, and we turned to leave, Vrawn and I, but I turned to address Thogan and Shellica first. “We will be leaving near the inn here in about an hour or so. See you there!”

  We turned to walk away, and after a few moments, the silence had lasted long enough. Then I realized why it had been silent.

  Vilmas stood in the open flap of the tent, her eyes locked on all of us, her gaze searching the crowd until she saw Shellica standing near Rowland. “Lady Shellica!” Her hands tightened at her waist, wringing her wrists absently before she took a steadying breath, then heaved it out of her body. “I have something I would like to say to you. My friends, please stay.”

  Vrawn left my side instantly for her friend’s, and I couldn’t blame her. Vilmas looked pale but determined in a way I had only seen when she was haggling prices with a would-be cheat over some mithril.

  “Vilmas! Lass, we were just talking about you!” She beamed and stepped toward the other woman with a smile, and her arms open wide for her.

  “I heard,” Vilmas stated plainly, though her normally measured speech was gone and replaced by a brogue almost like Rowland and Thogan’s. “I were nearby an’ I heard some o’ the conversation, me name, an’ other things. Look—I donnae care tha’ Rowland be clanless. He be the most honorable, respectable, and respectful dwarf I ever did lay eyes on. He’s been nothin’ but good to me, an’ I know’d his intentions from the start—”

  “Vilmas, it’s—” A powerful glare from Vrawn and Shellica stopped my attempted explanation cold, my heart thudding wildly. I knew if I spoke again, I would leave unconscious, so I shut up.

  “He be a good man, and I love him.” Her cheeks burned as red as lava, her blue dress looking like ice against her chest that glowed red as well. She looked over at Rowland and stomped forward, his speechless shock only growing as she grasped his face and pulled him into a kiss so strong that he almost lost his footing after leaning forward. She stopped kissing him and turned her gaze to Shellica as she panted, catching her breath.

  “This is how you feel?” Shellica crossed her arms slowly and carefully.

  “Aye!” Vilmas said breathlessly. She turned and reached into her pocket before taking a knee in front of all of us. Audible gasps around the room broke the silence as she opened the small chest in her hands. “Rowland, smith o’ Sunrise an’ forger o’ me bravery, will ye do me the honor o’ makin’ me an honest woman? Will ye walk yer Way with me as I step to ye along me own path?”

  Rowland’s mouth opened and shut slowly for a few tense moments, the golden ring in her hands large enough to easily fit his meaty fingers, a stone set where the gemstone would normally be.

  In answer, Rowland closed his eyes and lifted his head almost as if he couldn’t stand to look at her anymore, Vilmas’ eyes grew wide in fright. He reached into his own pocket and hung his head, eyes still closed as he knelt down on one knee before her. He opened the chest and presented a similar ring, though much more intricately carved with runes and engravings.

  “Vilmas, temperer of me fire an’ enchanter o’ me heart, will ye do me the honor o’ makin’ me the happiest, most blessed dwarf under the Mountain? Will ye walk yer Way with me as I step to ye along me own path?”

  He opened his eyes, tears falling into his beard as a smile graced both of their faces. Neither of them said anything for a moment, but a cleared throat captured all of us from the beautiful moment and brought us back to the present. Shellica tapped her foot impatiently before she threw her arms apart and bellowed, “Would one of ye moonstone-struck fools say ‘aye’ already?”

  They flinched and turned back to each other and in unison, spoke the words that bound them together, “Aye.”

  The crowd burst into cheers, Vrawn was so excited that she lifted both of them up into her arms and hugged them until we had to drag them out of her joyful grasp. We celebrated with pats on the back and kind words of luck for a solid half an hour.

  Shellica shook her head, and I had to approach her as she stood to the side of the festivities staring sadly into the throng. “What’s wrong?”

  She glanced up at me and nodded toward Vilams and Thogan, who was explaining the situation to her, her face growing more and more red by the sentence. “She was willing to leave the clan and her family, outcast if I so willed it, to be with him. She stood up to me in front of all these people and risked her own name among the clan so that she could find her happiness.”

  I stared down at her, horrified that this happy moment could have been a horrible thing if she were a lesser person, but she wasn’t, and I knew it from her next statement as she grinned to herself. “Sending her off with you was the best choice I ever made. I think I learned something from my once-shy ap
prentice today. I’ll be seeing you at the tavern in half an hour then, lad. Get to going.”

  She dismissed me and went off to console a tearful Vilmas, Vrawn noting that I was heading toward the door as I looked to her.

  “That was an interesting conversation,” Vrawn observed aloud as we stepped away.

  The village wasn’t so much a blur around us as it was less interesting with her around.

  “Well, that does happen around dwarves.” I chuckled as I remembered all the examples of conversational prowess the dwarves gave me over my time here. Some were amazing. Others? “At least she didn’t insult you, and Vilmas will have a real chance at happiness, now.”

  “I heard that was how they show affection.” Vrawn looked alarmed. “Has Vilmas been calling me a pasty, puke-skinned, beefcake just to be mean?”

  “That much?” I raised an eyebrow, and she nodded. “It’s how they show affection, but there’s a good way to know a true insult, and she didn’t offer one. Though Shellica is a weird one, she’s a good person, and I love her like a… like a mother or grandmother since she’s so damned old.”

  I frowned. Why was that so hard to say? Was it the issues that I had with my own family?

  I could dwell on that later.

  “I can understand that being important.” Vrawn pulled me close to her, my steps shifting mid-stride to match hers. “Is this awkward for you?”

  “Not particularly, no. Why?”

  “You seem uncomfortable.” She took her hand from mine but stayed along her own walking path. “And while you were gone, I didn’t hear from you.”

  I went to respond, but she hushed me with a motion of her hand. “Our queen told me what happened, and I can understand that you were stretched thin with training and running for your lives.”

  I fell silent and let her speak. She deserved to be able to speak her mind.

  “But in all of that time, a simple hello would have been better than wondering if you and the people I care about were dead or not.” Her face was stoic, free of all emotion, but it was that stillness and perfect bearing that let me know something was truly wrong.