Into the Storm

by Christopher Johns

  Once more, the dwarves of Djurn Forge cheered together, shouts of “Aye!” “Heroes!” And “GERTY!!” Rang out all around us in a near-deafening burst of sound.

  “Heroism what deserves to be noted in the collective memory o’ the clans, so that all may know the glories what need be sung about the return o’ our most vaunted defender!” Farnik continued, and many of the dwarves nodded enthusiastically. “They fought their way to the Great Below, riskin’ life and limb to get to the drow to do their duties when they happened upon a captive who struck them as one o’ ours. And confirmed that it were Gerty.”

  “Betrayed by the drow scum, they fought back an’ rescued her from the evil queen’s clutches, her prison of lies and shadow.” Farnik slashed with his arms as if he were fighting something. “Joined by me an’ little more than a score o’ me kin, they fought through drow an’ vampires alike to join us an’ reunite kin an’ clan. I stand before ye today, claiming that these lads an’ lasses deserve to be heralded as some o’ the greatest heroes o’ our time!”

  “They be dwarves!” One of the clan leaders bellowed from his spot, his flaming head of hair and beard down to the ground were impressive, but he had a piece of iron on his face. We knew who he was. “O’ course they be heroes!”

  A resounding cheer of agreement rang out around us, causing me to grin at my brothers and wife.

  “Be there any here this day who donae think their deeds were heroic?” Farnik raised his voice, almost like a threat. His scowl turned on all of the dwarves below us.

  “Me.” Jaken snarled and stepped forward.

  Farnik didn’t seem surprised when he glanced back and saw the paladin striding forward. “Speak yer piece lad. Tell all here afore ye what be on yer mind.”

  Jaken came to stand next to Farnik and raised his own voice, “We did what any good dwarf would have done themselves if they had known. Any one of you would have brought this whole city down on their heads if you had known that Gerty was down there. Hell, we would have been right there with you if we could have been!”

  It was hard to argue that logic, and I’d be damned if it weren’t true. Watching the area, I could see the dwarves reflecting on the information before one of the other clan leaders limped forward. His bald head reflecting the bright firelight around us as his long, wispy-gray beard waved like a flag before him. Several of the dwarves around him went to aid him, but he battered them away with a thick metal cane.

  He stopped halfway between the stone we stood on and his clan and glared up at us with nearly-closed eyes as he spoke something in dwarvish. His raspy voice lost before it could reach me.

  Farnik leaned forward, and one of the younger dwarves from the clan asked the old one his question and took a whack on the backside as she ran the question to Farnik.

  “Ah, a fair question.” Farnik turned back to us, Jaken in particular and related the question, “Knowin’ what ye know now, would ye change yer actions?”

  I blinked. A fair question was right, and other than maybe a little better planning on our part and maybe a more brutal end to a certain spider queen, I don’t think I would have.

  Jaken looked to us, our heads shaking collectively, then turned to the crowd and announced, “No. We wouldn’t have.”

  The elderly dwarf cracked a smile, his single yellowed tooth moving up and down as he lifted his metal cane and cracked a rhythm on the ground.

  Not a heartbeat later, every dwarf in the room, including Farnik and Thogan, stomped their right foot on the ground in unison.

  “What’re they doing?” Jaken whispered loudly.

  I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of my throat. I’d been there for this once before.

  “This is the Heart of the Mountain, guys,” I explained with a grin and pulled Yoh and Jaken close to me. “It means they approve of us, and we’re heroes!”

  The party itself was intense. The food smelled so good once the clans brought it forward that my stomach gurgled almost as loud as a dragon. Keg after keg after keg of the best alcohol any of the clans could manage to muster rolled across the stone tables around the outer rim of the area with the food in the middle on display.

  The heroes sat at a stone table near all the food while the clans sat around them in no particular order with no particular arrangement by clan. Ironnose dwarves mixed with Lighthand and Mugfist, and everyone ate and drank in harmony.

  Up until the tenth barrel of booze had been opened.

  That’s when things got a little hairy. Or should I say scaly? I could swear I turned into a dragon at some point, but I wouldn’t know much for long.

  I woke up to dull pain in my side and crick in my neck. And also in my ursolon form. Laying with my ass on top of the table. My head on the ground and a leg in my mouth.

  “Graah!” I mulled, the noise making me wince and fight not to tighten my jaws.

  I gently extricated the leg and shifted to my typical fox-man form, casting Regrowth on myself groggily. My bleary eyes failed to comprehend the scene before me.

  “Good morning, my love,” Maebe’s voice greeted me from the shadows beneath the table. Her eyes and smile were visible, but nothing else.

  “Whah happen?” My dry throat cracked, I grabbed the nearest tankard and pulled it to my lips then almost vomited as the taste of alcohol hit my throat.

  I looked down to see that the leg belonged to Vrawn, the orc woman snoring happily with a dwarven teddy bear in her arms. Well, it looked like Fainnir, snoring just as happily in her arms as she slumbered.

  “Here.” Maebe giggled, appearing on the table. “Let me show you.”

  She held her hands out for me to put my head into, and I did. Memories and images, chaotic and bright, flooded into my mind.

  The sixth toast to Gerty’s continued health and return had given way to a call for music and dancing to which all of the party had acquiesced. Even Yoh had come out to cut a rug.

  By this time, I was well and truly gone, and people wanted to see animals dance, so I turned into a dragon, of course. I stumbled to and fro, the alcohol inhibiting my movements a bit, but I was having fun! At least it looked like. Children wanted to jump over my tail, so I flicked it back and forth over the ground so they could do just that.

  Then the dwarves, hell even my friends, began shouting requests for different animals. By the end of the night, I was an ursolon doing the waltz with Vrawn in my paws as my friends sang a song.

  “Oh god, not that Jungle Book shit.” I groaned sadly. “Really?”

  “Oh yes, that was the highlight of my night, right there,” Muu grunted as he shuffled over with a yawn and a wince at the noise. “Remind me to drink water next time?”

  “Shut up.” Balmur growled quietly from beneath another table ten feet away. “This hangover is trying to find me. Hushshshs.”

  “Well, lads!” Farnik guffawed, and the collective cry of pain made him laugh harder. “We have heroic items to bestow upon ye!”

  “Can it wait?” Bokaj moaned at the small man. I glanced up and saw him hanging by a rope noose tied around his ankle from a lantern pole.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” I asked as I ordered the shadows around us to cut it so he could fall, and I could catch him.

  I honestly thought I would catch him, but him hitting the ground from nearly fifteen feet in the air proved me wrong.

  “Sorry.” I hiccuped and shook my head, my vision splitting momentarily. “I thought I could get you.”

  I cast Regrowth, and he flipped me off as he stood and dusted himself off. “I don’t know. I think I lost a bet?”

  “It be likely.” Roslyn snickered, her pants and blouse dirtied, and her hair tousled. She eyed the elven ranger longingly before sighing. “You do sing such lovely songs. And you move so well.”

  I found myself blushing at the implications and turned to see Farnik scowling at the two of them with a look of concern on his face.

  “So!” I tried to get between them to keep him distracted. “Ab
out those items?”

  “No need to worry, Zeke.” Roslyn grasped my shoulder tightly. “Though ours is a stuffy lot sometimes, no dwarven woman needs be a maiden when she marries. We’re free to do what we please. No one owns us.”

  “She be right, lad.” Farnik grunted, eyeing his daughter strangely. “Though I be wonderin’ why tha’ one. No disrespect to ye, Bokaj, but I always figured me daughter’d be drawn to the stouter type. Like Balmur.”

  “He’s a musician, da.” Roslyn shook her head and grinned. “There be more to life than muscle an’ the skill to wield an axe. An’ Balmur be betrothed already, an honorable lady doesnae dally another woman’s man.”

  Farnik chuckled and patted her shoulder. “Good lass. Good. Go an’ see to the armory for us before we get there. Lay out the pertinent weapon sets for us, and we will see about outfittin’ these ‘uns for their journey, aye.”

  Bokaj blinked, then frowned as she walked toward him. “Did we? You and I…?”

  Roslyn winked at him as she passed him, then turned and smacked his rump before sprinting away.

  “Good on you, man.” Jaken grinned, looking a lot fresher than the rest of us, clean clothes and all. “She’s a looker. You all ready, or what?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” James grumbled as he glanced around. “Where’s Yoh?”

  “Hungover.” The sounds of retching and something splashing on the other side of the table reached my ears.

  “How?” I asked the vampire, his face popping up over the stone of the furniture.

  “Alcohol infused blood from the smell of it,” Muu gagged, covering his nose with a hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here and get cleaned up.”

  I nodded even as I called the shadows to come to my aid, lifting them as we walked and using them to wick away the grime from my body and clothes. The scent of alcohol and sick was much less overpowering than it had been, and I felt much more refreshed.

  “You grow more adept, husband.” Maebe touched my shoulder, pointing with her chin toward where we had been. “Please, collect our lover. It will go a long way toward repairing the small rift between the two of you.”

  I kissed her forehead softly, more for my comfort than hers, and went about collecting Vrawn. The large woman wasn’t heavy, not surprising with how high my strength was. But Fainnir fought like hell to stay cuddled in her grasp.

  Finally, Muu lumbered over and grasped the boy by his shirt and tugged, his grasp slipping from Vrawn and leaving her open to my lifting.

  I stood, the woman balanced in my arms precariously, before I whispered, “Hang on to me, sweetheart. I’ve got you, but I need you to put your arms around my neck.”

  Vrawn’s lips curled, and her snoring paused for a mere heartbeat before her body leaned toward my own, and she wrapped her muscled biceps around my neck loosely. The ground swayed a little as I walked; eventually, Maebe had to help me a little by leaning against my shoulder.

  I kissed Vrawn’s cheek, and her snoring went back to normal as Farnik led us toward the back of the area. Here, a large tapestry woven through stone and wooden towers told the same tales but featured certain dwarves.

  “Heroes Hall,” Farnik muttered, then turned to us, motioning to the art above him. “These are the dwarves throughout our history who have been deemed heroes by their peers in the clans. You’ll see Granite, meself, and Gerty as the latest additions, but we be plottin’ to add to it lads. And yer all in that addition.”

  Bokaj scratched his stomach and yawned. ”That’s awesome, Farnik, but why are we over here?”

  Farnik growled. “Patience!”

  Stone rumbled in front of us, grinding and rolling away. Roslyn strode out of the opening left in the wall off to our right, and motioned that we should come to her.

  Our footsteps echoed around us as we ducked into the room.

  “This be the armory,” Farnik explained, opening his hands and motioning to the room. “Not just a selection o’ weapons an’ armor, no. This is the armory. Where our greatest weapons and armor forged in these halls are stored for the heroes o’ the dwarves to select from should they be nominated.”

  “So, we get to pick a piece of gear from this?” Jaken asked with a smile and a more than hopeful look on his face. His hands raised and fingers waggled over a set of armor.

  “Any one piece.” Farnik grinned and turned to Bokaj and Balmur. “I know ye be o’ the sort who enjoy odd weapons, we got a few odds and ends what may be up yer alley.”

  I grinned and laid my lovely orcish lady on an empty stone table where Maebe had perched with her legs over the side. I made it so that Vrawn’s head rested on Maebe’s thighs, where the Fae Queen could softly play with her hair.

  “Pick something for me?” Maebe raised a brow and motioned to the piles of things. “I trust your judgement.”

  I grinned at her and went to work perusing the items on the tables. My current items were pretty boss, and my great axe Magus Bane could steal mana from whomever, or whatever magical thing, I hit. Not to mention, break magical barriers. And who didn’t want that?

  If I found something that would be a great match, I’d get it, but I had a good enough great axe at the moment to be picky.

  Armor looked great, but metal gear like plate mail would inhibit my movement and weigh me down too much to be of any real use in a fight. It would likely need to be a weapon of some sort.

  Nothing stuck out to me right away at the table I currently browsed. Hatchets, a long knife made of bone, a double-sided axe with a skull on top of it. The next table didn’t have much either, but something did catch my eye, a ring that looked to be crafted of a metal that seemed to move and change color in the light.

  Encorn’s Signet

  +18 dmg with magic spells and increased control of the elements.

  Encorn’s delight in magical manipulation met no end until he did. There is still much that shrouds his fate, but nothing of his life is left in this plane, but for a ring and a saying: He who controls himself, controls his fate. He who controls fate—controls nothing.

  That was an odd statement, not to mention the fact that there wasn’t any crafter information like there would normally be. That aside, the ring was amazing, and I pocketed it for now, either to give to Maebe if I found something better or to keep for myself if not.

  Hey, she would want me to have it, right? I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t going to tell her about it, and it did seem to be something I could use.

  Several bladed weapons stuck out to me, nice as they were, I wasn’t a sword guy in this world. They could do some wonderful things for my friends, but not me. After a while, I’d begun to lose hope of finding anything else of use.

  That had been until I spotted it at the back of the room leaning against a wall with a sheet over the top of it. Drawn as I was to many things around us in this world, whether from a sense of curiosity or a child-like wonder I’d had since I was a child, I found myself storming across the room toward it.

  I shoved Muu out of the way when he stepped in front of me.

  “What the hell, man? It’s a wall.”

  I walked through the “wall” he had been talking about, my True Sight allowing me to see through the illusion as if it were just a screen.

  I lifted the sheet away and found a simple looking wooden scepter, ashen gray with ghostly runes carved into it covered in dust. Breathing deep, I blew on it mightily, the motes falling away and littering the air around the item and I. Glowing runes of spectral silver, purple, green, red, blue, and black dotted it in a flowing pattern from top to bottom with a knob at the top of it.

  Take me up.

  The siren song of the weapon whispered through my mind temptingly. Every fiber of my being burned for the object before me. I needed to touch it. To wield it. Why wasn’t I reaching out to it the way it reached for me?

  I glanced down at my hands and found the right held by Maebe, my left in Vrawn’s hands.

  “Zeke, calm yourself,” Vrawn whispered against the top
of my head.

  Calm? I was perfectly calm, well, that was a lie. I was excited at the prospect of finding something else that could be useful.

  Claim me as your own.

  My tails flicked in agitation. “Guys, I’m cool, it’s fine. I just want to see what the stats for it are. I’m one of the more powerful casters in the group—a staff seems like a great idea.”

  Farnik appeared as if from nowhere and pressed a thick hand against my stomach and pressed against me, my feet sliding a little. “Easy, lad. Stay yer hand.”

  “It’s just a staff, guys!” I reasoned again, my voice growing slightly louder.

  “A hidden staff?” Maebe asked with her arm suddenly across my chest. “One that not even Farnik knew was here?”

  “They didn’t know that their people had magic until we told them, this could be something from their past that they had forgotten.” I reasoned with her. Why didn’t this make as much sense to them as it did me?

  “We what?” Farnik seemed thrown by the realization. “Magic from Fainne is all well an’ good, lad. An’ I admit, I be keen to learn more from Thogan, but we don’t know what it be doin’ here, it coulda been sealed here for all we know! I… be unsure ye should touch it.”

  Until someone worthy came along.

  Call my name.

  “He’s not exhibiting any weird signs, and his ring isn’t glowing, so it’s not some kind of spell. What’s the harm in one of us trying to see what it does for him?” Jaken offered, and walked through the illusion to touch the weapon.

  A charge of magical energy so strong the fur on my body and the hair on Maebe and Vrawn’s heads stood wholly on end and sent the paladin careening away from it, violently flailing as his momentum carried him out of the door into a stone pillar. A thunderous crack from outside drew our attention, and we rushed to see what was going on.

  We rushed out to see Jaken lying unconscious under one of the large pillars, it was cracked to hell and looked about ready to splinter and fall on the Fae-orc. A larger section of it just above stood out to me as well.