Twelve Ways to Die in Galadore, Volume I

by Coleman Alexander

  The human takes it and gulps it down. Then looking about, he says.

  “That’s the best-damned drink I’ve ever had. But why is it warm?”

  The group of dwarves burst into laughter, falling against one another as they hooted and hollered. Thonnos leaned back, satisfied. He’d drunk another mug in the time it took to tell the joke and another arrived a second before he felt like shouting for it.

  “Where do you come up with this bullshit? Sprites and elves. There’s no such thing,” one of the lads said.

  His neighbor looked at him as though he’d swallowed the keepstone whole. “What rock have you been hidin’ under, you dumb bastard? Have you never been up on the high of things?”

  “Highest I’ve been was on top of your mother.”

  More laughter erupted and Thonnos lifted his mug clear and scooted back as chairs clattered to the ground and the two dwarves tumbled onto each other like long lost lovers, rolling across the floor and making a proper mess of things. They carried on like this, with everyone watching and laughing, egging them on while neither gave an inch. Eventually, when it looked like they’d leave the mountains in splinters, they were pulled apart and each given a drink and a pat on the back, and the night looked like it would continue like all the other nights to pass under the mountains.

  Music was playing at the far end of the hall. Two deep, twisted flutes accompanied by a traditional flute that wove around the others with the skill of The Seamstress and the Golden Thread. Their music, no doubt, was meant to replace things missing, and though it was beautiful, even stirring really, it was a far cry to what had once been. Thonnos could remember when the hall had been filled with the music of the caverns. The ever-shifting, ever-flowing seep of the grotto; the soft sound of water sliding pitter-patter down rocks, and the deeper rumble of churning in the deep. In those days, the dwarves had been content to sit in silence and listen to the mountains sing, rather than gather about and listen to the crude jokes and stories of a raider. Back then, there had been light, too, the green and blue and silver algae on the grotto walls phosphorescing in the night with such beauty that it would bring kings on a pilgrimage. But those were memories reserved for a dwarf living in the past, and Thonnos wanted nothing to do with memories. Instead, he sat watching the tail end of the squabble and listening to the music.

  But soon he was roused from his reverie by a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find his brother, Valï, at his side.

  “Brother! How are you?” he said, standing and embracing his youngest sibling. He brought him in for a sturdy hug and then let him go, looking him over. Valï was one of his fifteen brothers and sisters and by far his favorite. He was shorter and his beard wasn’t yet touched by grey, but he had a dozen braids and several more in his hair.

  “Like rock and stone,” Valï said in greeting, but his voice was measured, and there was a grim slant to his lips. He didn’t flash his usual smile and he didn’t finish the greeting, instead, saying brusquely, “But I want to talk to you.”

  Thonnos straightened, reaching for his beer. “Now? I’m holding court and the children are waiting.” He gestured to the loose group who was gathered around him. They laughed and drank, and he winked at one of the few girls amongst the listeners. She blushed but didn’t turn down her eyes. The other dwarves had benches pulled up and chairs assembled around him. The younger dwarfs looked up to him, even some of the rowdier of the bunch who had made good names for themselves already. And as long as he was telling jokes and stories, they would keep buying beers until the sun rose twice over the eyries above.

  Valï didn’t smile. “It’s about Rhamnia.”

  Thonnos’s grin soured on his face. The girl in the crowd finally looked away.

  “What about her?” he asked, taking another long swig of beer to hide his displeasure. The bruises on his knuckles seemed to throb all the more.

  Valï just looked at him.

  “This is hardly the place to speak of it.”

  “What better place in the underworld?” Thonnos said, hoping the crowd would keep Valï from pressing him. But his younger brother, who was never one for anything serious, looked undeterred.

  “Well, where do I even start? She’s not well. And I think we ought to speak of this alone.” He spoke quietly but gravely, and he gave Thonnos a pointed look that said far more than his words.

  Thonnos looked at the other dwarves, then to his brother. Valï had always been the prankster among them, telling jokes and getting laughs. He rarely went anywhere without his big grin and ruddy cheeks, but now he looked like the life had been sucked out of him. His face was drawn as winter moonlight, and his eyes dark as the bitter deep.

  Thonnos took a coin from his pocket and started to toy with it. He rolled it through his fingers this way and that, and then, seeing the knicks and cuts, stopped and flicked it to the swill-tender. “A round on me for once, boys, and then get the fuck out of here. I need a moment.”

  This was met with drunken approval. The crowd took him up on the offer, then sidled away. The girl, who Thonnos thought he might have seen before, brushed her hair aside and with a glance, followed them. When he turned back to his brother, Valï stood, arms folded across his chest, no sign of being pleased to see him.

  A gesture to the swill-tender and Thonnos had two mugs in hand. He offered one to his brother, but Valï held up his hand and shook his head. Thonnos shrugged and set the second behind the first.

  “Never seen you turn down a beer. What’s happening? How are things in the Maerrhin Tunnel?”

  “I’m not here to discuss work.”

  Thonnos gestured to the seat in front of him, sensing where this was going. Valï didn’t sit. Thonnos took the mug and drained it by half, wiping his beard with a stained sleeve. The stain was hard to see in the dark lit cavern, but he knew what color it ran.

  “Alright, why the long beard?”

  Valï shook his head. “What are you doing, Thonnos?”

  “Drinking.”

  “No. I mean, what the fuck are you doing?” Valï slapped an empty mug from the tabletop and sent it clattering across the ground. His outburst was sudden and unexpected, and most everyone in the vicinity turned to look.

  Thonnos didn’t flinch. After a moment, he looked about, averting the eyes of those around him with a single glance. He sipped his beer.

  “Who pissed in your beer?” he asked. He heard a chuckle from the nearest dwarves.

  Valï didn’t speak. Instead, he just stared at Thonnos, waiting for an answer.

  “Just living,” Thonnos said at last.

  “Are you? Because Rhamnia looks like she’s not. She looks like she’s been mauled by a cave bear. She’s practically on the verge of death—”

  Thonnos slammed his mug down. “Did she come to you? Did she say I did it? That lying bitch.” Thonnos pushed back from the table but Valï stopped him, putting a firm hand on his shoulder and pushing him back into his seat. Thonnos would have rushed him if not for the surprise of finding himself a tad unbalanced.

  “She didn’t say a damned thing. But it would take a blind man to believe she took a fall.”

  Thonnos cursed. “I fucking told her people would think that. I’ll fucking kill her. She’s always running her mouth. Blaming me for the fates that come to her. She brings it on herself. That fucking bitch.” This time, he pushed past the hand holding him and stood up, ready to march through the halls and drag Rhamnia out of his house by the hair.

  “Thonnos. Stop,” Valï said firmly. His voice shook, and his lips were quivering beneath his beard. He held his hand against Thonnos’s chest, and he looked as though he were bracing himself for a fight.

  “Are you going to stop me?” Thonnos asked.

  Again, Valï didn’t answer. They stood toe to toe, eye to eye. It had been a good long while since he’d had a scrap with his brother, but he had no doubt he could still win. Even if he was drunk with his hands tied behind his back.

  “You really want to do
this here?” he asked.

  Valï shook his head, but it wasn’t in answer. It was in disgust.

  “Is this what’s become of you? The great Thonnos Stonebreaker. Is this who you are?“

  “It is.”

  Valï looked like the air had been stolen from him. He continued to shake his head, and when he spoke, he spoke quietly.

  “I looked up to you, Thonnos. But no more.”

  Thonnos opened his mouth, then stopped. Valï was still shaking his head. Then he stepped back and patted Thonnos’ chest. He shook his head again.

  With that, Valï turned and walked from the hall.

  Thonnos watched him go, and then sat down and turned away from the others. Instead of calling them back, he pulled the mug closer and stared at the stone and kegs in front of him. His fingers found his beard. He took out his braids and started reweaving them.

  “You look like you could use some company, raider,” a woman said, drawing Thonnos from his reverie.

  He glanced over and found the young woman from earlier pulling up a chair beside him. He was a good deal drunker than before, but he could still see straight. She was young enough to be his daughter, and she was pretty, with rosy cheeks and red hair—a bit thin and far too young for him, but pretty nonetheless. He opened his mouth to say he wasn’t interested but stopped when she flicked her hair to the other side and he saw the tattoo on her neck. A black moon and two bright stars.

  “You’re a raider?” he asked in surprise.

  She grinned a wicked grin. “Ink’s still fresh. I only got it at the turning of the Black Moon.”

  Thonnos tried to think if he’d been on the up high of things in that time, trying to recall where the moons were. “Four months? Means you must have gone on high already.”

  “Been out three times. Once to the Moors. Once out Eastway. And we just got back from Trondheim.”

  “Trondheim? That’s a bloody mess. Nest of goblins and trolls and all sorts of wicked shit.”

  “Got me this.” She pulled a braid from the side of her head.

  “Already? Must be the fastest braid since. . .”

  “Since you.” She had a gleam in her eye as she said this, and as soon as he saw it, Thonnos had no illusions of what she wanted. Normally, he’d be all for it, but his conversation with Valï had soured his taste for his usual pleasures.

  “Good for you,” he said, surprised at how young she looked. “How did a pretty little thing like you grow up to swing a sword at goblins faces?”

  The girl laughed. “I grew up hearing stories about the great Thonnos Stonebreaker, of course. Next thing you know, I was picking up an axe.”

  He smiled. “Can’t imagine your mother was happy with that.”

  “She’s not.” The girl grinned a wicked grin. “And for that, I owe you thanks. I’m Margret, by the way.”

  “Thonnos,” he said as he signaled for a beer for her.

  “I’ve got to admit. I’ve come down here looking for you a few times. Never dared to say hi before. Had an easier time facing down a mountain troll.”

  He sized her up, and he felt her eyes brush over his knuckles, the cuts and the bruises. The look gave him pause, and he leaned back self-consciously, crossing his arms.

  “Ha. An old-timer like me shouldn’t scare you.”

  The girl’s eyes gleamed like the grotto’s cavern once had.

  “No? Maybe I want you to.”

  Thonnos felt a stirring inside himself, one that beer alone wouldn’t put down. She sidled closer, staring at him, eyes shining with her intention. She glanced over his knuckles.

  “I don’t mind if you’re rough with me. I can take a punch.”

  Thonnos couldn’t respond. He just raised an eyebrow at her and she grinned another wicked grin. Then, seeing his surprise, she belted out a riff of laughter, and he felt himself smiling.

  But his smile, for once, was tempered. A deep part of him—one that hadn’t risen for years and years—knew it was a mistake. It was the voice who spoke reason. The one he’d mastered long ago, swallowing it down with a tide of beer and lonely women. But now that voice spoke again, a soft whisper that stirred against the stone in his chest, and he could see Valï in his mind’s eye shaking his head. He could hear his brother’s voice echoing through the hall. I used to look up to you, brother. But even then, even knowing he shouldn’t, he felt the next words falling out of his mouth.

  “Is that right?” he said, remembering his line in the play.

  “It is,” she said, leaning closer.

  “Where should we go?” Thonnos asked, as though he were a boat on the cusp of a waterfall, one that was going to be dragged over the edge regardless of what the steersman wanted. He realized belatedly he was continuing on with the same mistakes he always made. The same damn mistakes every time. He was going to wake up in the bed of another, with a headache the size of the mountain, and he was going to regret every second of it. When did he lose his way?

  “I know a place,” she said, giving him a come-on gesture with her head. Suddenly, however, he heard a commotion just behind him and saw her eyes go wide. If he weren’t so drunk, he would have realized the commotion involved him, but a second later, someone grabbed his hair and slammed his head down onto the stone bar top. He felt his nose crack—a sound he’d heard a dozen times. A moment after, his vision swirled at the edge of a deep blackness. He tasted blood and then felt the hand pull him up for a second round. He swiped about, trying to find his balance.

  “You coward motherfucker! Is this how you do it? Is this what you fucking do?” he heard screamed at him.

  The hand tried to slam him down again, but this time, he didn’t let it. He resisted, and the blow only managed to grind his face into the stone. Beer spilled everywhere and a mug clattered to the ground. He bucked backward, knocking over whoever had a hold of him. He had no idea who it was, but unless there were more than one of them, this fight was all but over now. He swung around and tossed the attacker to the ground. The figure crashed through three chairs, knocking a dwarf aside as he came to a stop. Thonnos looked about for a weapon, wondering if things were about to get bloody. Nothing came to hand, so he raised his fists instead.

  He marched over and squared up, ready to beat the dwarf to a bloody pulp. But then he stopped, seeing it was Nouran, Rhamnia’s brother. Nouran was half Thonnos’s size and not a fighter in the least—he was a scribe—and had no business trying to fight, least of all with Thonnos. But he picked himself up, and without a thought or care rushed at him again.

  Thonnos had hardly a moment to process what was happening. Nouran came at him with the fury of a cornered animal, screaming and swinging in a blind rage. The attack was so fierce it took Thonnos by surprise. A fist struck his arm, then he felt nails scratching across his face.

  “Is this how you fucking do it? Do you even care? Do you have any honor?”

  Thonnos grabbed hold of him and tossed him aside, sending him once again to the ground.

  “Honor?” Thonnos finally managed. “Coming from a dwarf who starts a fight with a sucker punch?”

  Nouran came up with blood on his lip. “Coming from a dwarf that hits his wife? At least I have the courage to pick a fight with someone bigger than me, you fucking coward.”

  He came after Thonnos again, and this time Thonnos dispatched him easily. He blocked a punch, and then another, and then pushed Nouran away, not yet willing to fight him. A crowd had gathered, and several of the dwarves who helped Nouran up held on to him, keeping him from coming again.

  “You fucking coward! Let me go, let me fucking go!” He spit on the ground, struggling against the hands that held him.

  Thonnos was just standing there, unsure what to do. He had never seen Nouran so out of sorts.

  “What? You can hit your wife but you can’t hit me?” He thrashed against those holding him. “That’s right. You’re too much of a coward. And what are you going to do now? You going to go fuck that raider whore and see if you can’t make
yourself another son? Well guess what? The mountains don’t give to cowards. Your chance at a son is done. And thank the heavens and the stars and the deep for that.”

  Thonnos wasn’t sure what happened next. One moment he was staring at Nouran, the next he was over the top of him, raging like he hadn’t raged in years. He knocked three dwarves aside in his initial rush, and then his fists were flying. Every time someone tried to stop him, he shook them free and attacked again. The cuts on his hands reopened. The bruises flushed with blood, and then he didn’t feel them any longer. He was going to kill Nouran, he didn’t care what the consequences would be. The king could hang and leave him on the rocks of the eyries for the crows to pick at. He punched, and he punched again.

  And then finally, he felt hands hold him, and this time, he couldn’t shake free. This time the hands were like iron, and somebody was pulling Thonnos off of Nouran.

  Thonnos wrenched his wrist free with a frantic swipe, a move that should have broken the thumbs of whoever was holding him. But whoever it was recognized the move and stepped away. Thonnos turned about and found a friend staring at him, one he hadn’t seen in years.

  “Laches, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be up fucking the king?” Thonnos said, breathing hard.

  “The king’s daughter,” Laches corrected. Thonnos didn’t have time to consider why his friend had come down to the bottom of things after so long away, and he turned to find Nouran impossibly pushing himself back up, fuming and bleeding from his lip, brow, and nose.

  “You’re pathetic, you stone-bred motherfucker,” he said. “I’ll kill you if you touch my sister. I swear to you, I’ll fucking kill you.”

  Laches was accompanied by several of the royal guards, and with a nod, they grabbed Nouran and escorted him out of the hall, still cursing and spitting. The circle of onlookers stood perfectly still. The dwarf at the bar top was watching them with wide eyes.

  “I didn’t want that,” Thonnos said, his blood slowing finally, feeling the same regret he always did when his fists came out. “I didn’t want that. He shouldn’t have started that fight.”