Into the Storm

by Christopher Johns

  “You’re right,” I admitted softly, upset with myself for screwing up like that. “I wouldn’t have done the same thing to Maebe, even with the time difference between the planes. There’s no excuse I can give you. No reason I can think of to try and fool you into thinking that I wasn’t an idiot too self-absorbed to care about how you might feel. I wasn’t thinking, Vrawn.”

  I stopped walking and turned to face her, her stride carrying her a little further away from me, where she stopped and watched me passively.

  “The only thing I can think to do is beg your forgiveness and hope that I can have an opportunity to prove to you that you do matter to Mae and to me.”

  “I know that I matter to her.” Vrawn crossed her arms across her stomach and took a more relaxed stance. “She was the one who had been kind enough to speak to me when she could, how she could.”

  She sighed and stepped closer to me, completely invading my personal space but I was fine with that. She had a right to hurt. A right to be angry.

  “I know I matter to her, Zeke.” She pressed her soft lips to my forehead, carefully looking me right in the eyes after. “What I need to know is if I matter to you. I’ve tried to fight how I felt, this rising hurt and just ignore it because I thought that it was all right. That it should have been all right. I just can’t anymore.”

  She stepped away, turning to stride off toward the tavern with a call to me from over her shoulder, “I’ll see you in a while.”

  Chapter Three

  The time passed swiftly as I took care of Kayda and Bea, who was not having my shit today.

  Her green and gray scales almost glowing in the daylight, her brown left eye and the right crimson, with both of them glaring at me.

  Hungry and mad! She snarled at me once more as she watched the people around us skirt the area again. The first person to try to pet her had—thankfully—been me. Her snapping at my fingers had resulted in my smacking her snout and reprimanding her, but she wasn’t having it.

  Finally, I fed her something that I could find from the kitchen in Willem’s tavern and got her back into the collar that encircled my throat and sighed with relief. What a dick.

  That did make me wonder, the last time she had been docile and obedient. Now, she was acting angry, and her eye was red. Her personality was changing and being affected by the mutation obtained from the chimera.

  Shit.

  That left her with, what, four potential personality types to cycle through at who knew when? That wasn’t going to be fun to deal with. But she had earned my love, that was for certain, and I wasn’t going to abandon her here.

  Kayda snapped up bits of meat that I tossed her absentmindedly as the conversations from earlier played through my head. The things I should have said or done coming to mind, then filtering out as if they had never come because they were useless, now.

  “Ah, there you are!” Thogan grinned as I glanced up at him from where I was. Kayda flapped her way toward him in parrot form, and he caught her easily on his shoulder. “Still getting used to that. Here, this is from Xiphyre. A gift for Yohsuke.”

  The dwarf tossed me a cloak that weighed next to nothing, and the stats blasted into my vision.

  Living Night’s Shroud

  Protects the wearer from the light of day for a small mana cost. Cursed: once put on, the wearer must bear this shroud until they die.

  There is something to be said for what goes bump in the night. But little is said about what sticks with those who bump first.

  Shroud woven by Adept weaver Sindri Vex and enchanted by Xiphyre.

  That was still weird. My hand had shown the same thing. What was Xiphyre’s enchanting level? He was obviously high enough to be a grandmaster. Was there something above even that?

  “Thogan, what are you and Xiphyre?”

  Thogan cocked his head to the side a moment before answering, “Well, I be a proper dwarf, handsome as they come I reckon, and him a fluttery shite—why?”

  I had to laugh, Xiphyre would likely beat the dwarf’s ass for saying that.

  “No, I meant that any time I see items either of you have made or enchanted, all it shows is your name.” He eyed me carefully before his gaze turned to the area around us. We were still alone for now, and that was enough for him, I guessed.

  He stepped closer with Kayda contentedly resting on his shoulder to speak in a low tone, “We be higher than grandmaster. Centuries o’ work put in to levelin’ an’ honin’ our skills. I reckon I may be one of the few livin’ smiths of legendary rank in this plane o’ existence. And Xi? He be well past legendary in enchanting. Though he hates what it makes him do.”

  “The curse?” I asked as an example, and he nodded gravely.

  “If he works with anythin’ but the finest materials, his magic can pervade it.” He tried to find the right words, struggling with the idea, then snapped his fingers and pointed excitedly toward me. “He telled me tha’ if it be less than master quality, there be a curse effect and above, a heavy toll. It be a double-edged sword. Powerful enchanting for a high price.”

  “That makes sense, but how can so few people know about the legendary rank?”

  He pulled out a long pipe and lit it with a match, pulling on it in thought before answering, “Reckon it has to do with loss of ancestral knowledge. See, we dwarves be smithin’ almost all our lives if it be our callin’, but the old legends choose who they passed their know-how to, carefully. I learned through sheer stubborn will an’ needin’ to be of use an’ close to me god. When I were a wee lad, the legends were few then, as well, but took students less and less because they grew vain. Took away from their craft and ‘polluted’ the potential of the next generation.”

  I frowned. That was like a teacher telling kids to do something in class like teach themselves. Without guidance, only some would learn, but the majority would stumble and fall.

  “Never understood it meself, but I was a fighter first.” He patted the large axe at his back and shoulder. “It were only in me time at the forges within the Fae realm when I found meself at home. Though I were still only a master at the time.”

  “I see. Is this a closely guarded secret, still?”

  Thogan thought, and as he continued to do so, other voices rose around us. People were coming.

  Finally, he nodded at me once, and I understood that I was to keep this to myself, for now.

  The boys had all come to stand nearby, but I passed James the shroud for Yohsuke. “Go wake that lazy bastard up.”

  He chuckled and ran into the tavern to do as I had said while the rest of us waited patiently. Finally, James stepped out of the building with a figure wrapped in living shadow behind him.

  “You finally awake, vampire boy?” Jaken called teasingly to the other man.

  The figure just flipped him the bird and continued to move forward toward us. “If we’re going to go, let’s go. This sunlight is painful.”

  Darkness enveloped where we stood as Maebe joined us with an entourage of children playing around her feet in a circle of joyous cries and energy. Her radiant smile contrasted well against the void-like blackness that burst into existence over our heads.

  “I must go now, children, but if you listen well to young Kloee, I will be certain to tell you all more tales of Storm Company’s exploits.” The children were sad that she was leaving, one little boy brazenly clinging to her leg and refusing to let go for a moment as Maebe eyed him as if he were the most precious thing.

  “That’s my wife, little man,” I called with a playful tone of warning. “I’ll keep her safe, don’t worry.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, and I winked at him with a grin, and he grinned back, his little teeth flashing as he called to the others, “I got to talk to King Zeke! Ha!”

  He let Maebe go and scampered away with the other children hot on his heels, calling for him to slow down.

  “They really do adore her.” Bokaj frowned thoughtfully as he patted Tmont’s head.

  “A
nd I, them.” Maebe’s serene, soft smile let me know she was being honest, but there was almost a hint of sadness there. I would have to talk to her later about that.

  “Are we ready?” I asked everyone as I took a count of those joining us. Me, Maebe, Vrawn, Jaken, Yoh, James, Bokaj, Balmur, Muu, Thogan, Shellica, Tmont, and Kayda with Bea in my necklace. Well within the limits of my Teleport spell.

  Everyone nodded, the ones who had the most experience traveling by this spell’s method grabbing hands and motioning for the others to do so as well. Kayda still perched on Thogan’s shoulder, and Tmont had crawled into Bokaj’s hood where she could hide comfortably.

  “Let’s do it!” I grinned at the others, their smiles and relaxed glances fixated in my mind as I reached within and focused on where I wanted the spell to take us. The entrance to the city of dwarves, Djurn Forge.

  The ebb of my mana accompanied by the customary loss of footing was familiar to me, followed by the also familiar sucking sensation before our feet touched the ground at our destination.

  “I hate that!” Thogan spat vehemently as he tugged on his beard.

  “You get used to it, dear Thogan.” Maebe comforted the dwarf with a soft chuckle and a pat on his shoulder. “It took some of them a while to get used to it, as well.”

  Three loud bangs on the metallic doors drew my attention to Balmur. He stood back from the wall of metal and put his hands on his hips while waiting.

  Three dwarves pushed the door on the right-hand side open, somber and respectfully bowing their heads to Balmur.

  “We offer nae the typical greetin’ o’ those familiar with our ways, but tha’ o’ humble men in the presence o’ heroes.” The lead Ironnose guard spoke clearly though his head was bowed still. “Glad be we that ye returned from yer time in the Hells, cousin Balmur. We hear’d o’ yer feats o’ glory, an’ we will hear more this night at the feast. All o’ ye—be welcomed as heroes an’ dwarves to yer humble home o’ Djurn Forge.”

  Balmur was the first to step over to them, thumping each of them on the backs of their heads so that they would look up at him. He eyed each one, giving a small nod to each, then broke out in a huge grin. “Pretty words from such an ugly gob! Who would have thought you capable of all that?”

  The Ironnose standing before him reared up and belted out a peel of laughter so loud I thought the whole of the Great Below would know where we were.

  “Oh, lad, yer well along the Way, be ye.” The guard sniffed and used his red beard to wipe away the tears flowing from his eyes before he wrapped Balmur in a great hug. The other two dwarves moving out and pulling members of the party into great bear hugs.

  The one who grasped me by the stomach and pulled me close muttered, “Welcome home, brother.” I clapped him on the shoulder, and all three dwarves found Thogan, who stood silently, still as stone—almost as if in shock.

  “Cousin?” The leader of the guards called back, “Be this a prank?”

  “Nope!” Balmur rushed over to stand next to Thogan and slapped the shit out of the side of his face to make him blink and shake his head. “This is Thogan Swiftaxe, clan leader of the Swiftaxe clan and an ancient dwarf from the Mountain himself.”

  Shellica put a hand on Thogan’s shoulder. “It be true, lads.”

  The three dwarves took a knee before Thogan, his surprise evident, and all three of them spoke in unison, “Long has yer path taken ye away from us, but the Way be long and windin’. Let we who walk together welcome ye back to the path among yer kin, Thogan Swiftaxe.”

  They looked up at him, and the leader offered, “The hammer falls.”

  Thogan, stricken with tears flooding from his eyes bellowed, “and rises again!” He leaped forward and pulled each of the younger dwarves into a fierce hug that lasted almost uncomfortably long for us, but we waited. This was his first time being surrounded by his kith and kin in centuries. Dwarves weren’t solitary people—they needed their clan and others to be okay.

  And Thogan would finally be okay, it seemed.

  “Come on, lad.” Shellica gently pried the dwarves apart with a soft touch and caress to Thogan’s back. “There are a lot of dwarves here who need to see their ancestor. Let these ones get back to their duties, and we will see them tonight.”

  Thogan used his beard to wipe away his tears and blew his nose into a handkerchief. “Aye, I thank ye lads, I truly do.”

  “It be we who are grateful, for we have regained so much at the hands of these lads here and their deeds.” The lead Ironnose sighed, then cut to attention, his right fist crossing his beard and resting over his heart. “When I raise a tankard, I raise it to ye, me and mine are with ye lads. I’ll be singin’ yer praises longer’n anyone, don’ ye be doubtin’.”

  I grinned at him and winked. “We welcome the love, but you be sure to stay safe, okay?”

  “Not shite out here what could threaten an Ironnose, lad!” One of the other guards guffawed good-naturedly.

  “Get ye inside now, the lot of ye.” The last dwarf motioned toward the door. “What a sight we be, buncha blubberin’ belles the lot of us. Me wife finds out, she’ll be puttin’ bows in me beard and callin’ our kids home ta help!”

  Maebe stopped to look at the dwarf, leaning down a little to look him deep in his eyes. “I wish to show my respect in the dwarven manner.”

  The Ironnose seemed taken aback but curious, so he nodded his head so that she would know to continue.

  “I think you’d look prettier with the bows, but only if they hid the majority of your face.”

  Silence fell over all of us, then the other two Ironnoses burst into fits of laughter that made them double over as they relentlessly beat on the other dwarf’s shoulders as he snorted and nodded his head.

  “That were a great greetin’ Majesty,” Thogan rumbled proudly as he collected Maebe from in front of the other dwarves.

  “Balmur taught me the way of the dwarves, with young Fainnir to assist him, while we were in the Great Below and the dungeon,” Maebe explained as she walked. “It was a wonderful learning experience. I find that I was remiss in not asking you more about your culture before, Thogan. I apologize.”

  “Donae fret, Majesty, I likely would have been sad knowin’ I could talk of ‘em but nae see ‘em.”

  “Get ready everyone, we will likely be mobbed by people in here if those guys were anything to go off.” Yohsuke warned the rest of us.

  Djurn Forge was not what I remembered, and I was almost worried that we had been trapped. The streets were almost barren. No one called out wares, no one walking except for those who were going into homes or shops.

  I turned back to the Ironnoses, who still teased their friend and asked, “What’s going on?”

  They seemed confused until Balmur pointed to the streets, and one of them perked up. “Oh! Aye! They all be preparin’ for tonight. Not a one family in this whole city is gonna let any o’ ye be drinkin’ yer own mead or eatin’ yer own food. Get ye to yer clan, lads. We will feast an’ party like ye never seed tonight!”

  We chuckled and meandered through the quiet streets of Djurn Forge. The only thing that I could hear was a distant thrumming of the true heart of the people here. The echoing sound of hammering somewhere off in the distance.

  Maebe and Vrawn found themselves drawn to many of the different shops and stands that had been abandoned for the celebration, vowing to come back and check out the wares.

  Yohsuke dropped his shadow shroud and revealed his gray skin tone, not because he was a vampire, but because he had chosen an abomination elf as his avatar’s race. A mix between a drow and high elf with all of the disdain both could manage for the other aimed at it. His yellow eyes seemed sharper than normal, and his shaggy white hair a little more unkempt than his usual self, as well.

  You hungry? I asked him telepathically through our earrings.

  He sighed, nodded, and looked my way. Is it that easy to tell?

  You have the same kind of predatory look I imagine I may have
when I’m pissed off, and the Wolf was threatening to take over.

  I’ll need to feed soon, was all he would say after that.

  We would find him something. Well, someone and soon, if not one of us. Not me, though, my blood would kill him with the lycanthropy running through it.

  But any of the others would be able to bleed in a cup for him.

  After walking a little while longer, we made it to the fenced-in, squat buildings and training grounds belonging to the Mugfist clan. Silence was no longer all that we heard, as there were dwarves outside in the yard who fought furiously with each other.

  Axes flashed in the torchlight, dotting the walls of the buildings and outside of the training grounds. Dwarves wearing only their breeches and weapon belts fought inside a circle of equally dressed bodies as a thrumming sound of low voices and the rhythm of feet falling in time.

  “What the Hells is going on over here?” I called, shoving my way through the bodies before me. Inside the circle, I found Brawnwynn and Farnik in the middle of a fight, both of them bloodied and cut. Farnik’s stubble looking a little more toward a beard than it had days ago.

  Brawnwynn and Farnik fought on, but a dwarf to my left took pity on me and answered, “It be a challenge for the right to be head o’ the clan. Brawnwynn thinks it be time for Farnik to step down so that he can be with Gerty. Farnik says he can do both. An’ right now, no one better be interferin’.”

  “Thank you.” The others piled in around me, and we watched together as father and son fought for the fate of the clan.

  Farnik and Brawnwynn each held only one axe, eyeing each other from twenty paces away. Both of them huffed and puffed, their bodies covered in cuts, welts, and bruises. Farnik sported a slowly swelling cut above his right eye, bleeding steadily, and Brawny had a gash under his ribs that made me wince when he moved.

  Neither dwarf looked anywhere close to giving up.

  Brawnwynn took the fight to Farnik, his axe held low in his left hand with a savage expression of rage on his face.