Bladeborn

by Clayton Schonberger

  “How can you do this, Nightslayer?”

  ~~I said before that I am not of this world, Bladeborn. My nature is to take a measure of the heartbeats and breath of each person around you. If one of them is up to no good, I could possibly sense it~~

  “Spe is going to work with the Dwarven blacksmiths. What if they try to harm him with drugged food?”

  ~~Don’t worry so much about it, Swordsman. Vimtan would have to get all three of you at the same time, which is very unlikely…. For now, I would recommend that you don’t share this information with the dragon. It would only serve to anger him~~

  During the first part of their stay with the Dwarves, King Vimtan let Bladeborn and Rosen sit at the head table. The Dwarf King simply didn’t believe the stories Bladeborn told of his origin, and he chuckled inappropriately while Bladeborn related the events of the past few years.

  The King laughed, wiping the wine from his beard. “Oh, that is good! Your story is a load of slag, General, but riveting none the less! You know, I heard that Onager caught fire. But it was a dry year, according to my scouts. I’m sure their thatched roof huts simply took a spark from a lightning strike, or some such act of the gods… But to claim that a human army defeated the Northern Rhinolon legion in battle… *hic* … is sheer nonsense.”

  Bladeborn, slightly frustrated, said, “Forgive me, O King Vimtan, perhaps I was not clear… It was not my claim that we defeated the Northern Rhinolon legion. I said they—”

  “An interesting tale you tell, General, yes,” the Dwarven King interrupted. “And I am amazed at the eloquence with which you weave such a yarn in the Dwarven language, no less. But now, please…no more of your outlandish exaggerations.”

  King Rosen was sitting at Bladeborn’s side. For the most part, he did not speak the Dwarven language, yet what just had taken place was clear. He said to Bladeborn, “So you told him what brought us here. That was less than he was able to believe…?”

  “Indeed, King Rosen,” Bladeborn said, in his native language. “He called our story ‘a load of slag.’”

  Smiling, King Rosen gestured for a refill of his cup. “He would not laugh so hard if such a thing happened to his people. However, wise council would be not to argue with a King in his own Hall.”

  “My thoughts exactly, King Rosen,” Bladeborn said.

  Eventually Bladeborn asked the Dwarven ruler, “Did the Dwarves take the missing Ward from the Pyramid and cause it to crash?”

  The King of the Dwarves looked serious for a few moments, the first time since Bladeborn and King Rosen had arrived. The Dwarf King replied, “Long ago the Elves cheated my people out of a set of magical maps that had been a gift from our gods. They were stolen by the Elves who came from the planet Foresti, which lies elsewhere in the solar reach. They were the very ones who flew about in that deathtrap, the ‘flying’ pyramid city. Without those maps, we may not be able to get your people through the underworld.”

  “What is this you say, King Vimtan?” Bladeborn asked.

  “With those maps, you could lead yourselves through the underworld.” The King yawned. “You could actually trade the Five Wards for the maps with the Elves in the North. If they have even had the maps, which I wholeheartedly doubt... Umm, I must tell you, I’ve been unable to convince my subjects that this plunge into the deepest part of the under lands of Draconia is something worth risking. We would have to sort of—feel our way through, you know, to the yellow sun side and the human continent. Then, there would be no getting back.”

  The King was drunk, and he had eaten too much. It seemed he shifted his position on the entire bargain with each bite of food he took.

  Bladeborn worried that King Vimtan was about to make an unfortunate proclamation, “It is too late to change our deal, King Vimtan.”

  The Dwaven King ignored Bladeborn’s statement, “Furthermore, I can’t make my people do foolish and dangerous things. I’ll make this worth your while. If you get the maps, I’ll let you keep a page of them for your long journey through Draconia. I’ll order some loyal clerics and strong warriors to guide you through. Naturally, you’ll be responsible for protecting your own people. I’ll even have my smiths make you a fine armor suit of dark armor, designed to match your sword. The maps are so valuable to us I would do all this. Then, at the end of the journey, you can keep a single page and we’ll call it even.”

  “I thought we already had a bargain in place, King Vimtan! The dragon Spe would give his service for two months in return for my people having guides!”

  “Well, get me all the maps and we will re-assess….” King Vimtan said.

  “You must really want these maps, King Vimtan,” Bladeborn said. “I say, though, that we had a bargain and—”

  “Yes, the maps are quite valuable...but really only to a Dwarf. No... I’ve changed my mind--this deal must be rethought.” They bargained long into the night and additionally over successive nights. Each time Bladeborn had to remind the King of what had been promised to him on the previous occasion.

  Finally, at Bladeborn’s insistence, the Dwarven King sent one of his clerics to retrieve the First of the Five Wards, stolen from the Elvin pyramid so long ago. The King did so only on a whim, as if it was of little consequence to the deal overall.

  Vimtan was particularly drunk that night, “Now, *hic* this little item is very, very valuable, General Bladeborn, the only reason I give it to you is because you seem to be of the type that are good to your word and because it is… Well, useless to me. *Hic!* No good ever came of it, you see? So now, it is your problem. It’s all on your shoulders, and as I said, if you get the maps back, we will send an expedition through Draconia with your people.”

  The King dropped a tiny colored stone in Bladeborn’s hand. Bladeborn carefully wrapped the Fifth Ward in a bit of cloth and tucked it away.

  “Thank you, King Vimtan,” Bladeborn said. “But whether I get the maps back or not—we will need guides…”

  “Wait,” the Dwarven King said, “I think we should try to rehash this whole bargain… Maybe you should give me some gold, some of that from the trove I know you have hidden somewhere, for my boon to you is *Hic! So great…*”

  “No,” said Bladeborn. “The deal has been struck, King Vimtan.”

  The Dwarf King retorted, “Nothing has been put into writing yet, young General!”

  Bladeborn had dealt with many difficult creatures in his time, but few as much so as the King of the Dwarfs. It was not just beggars that were thick in the tunnels of the Dwarven city; robbers were common also, and Vimtan seemed to be one of them.

  While in their rooms, Bladeborn and King Rosen had learned to sleep in shifts and had finally hired a group of Dwarven bodyguards to stand watch outside their apartment so they could be left alone.

  One night, at Bladeborn and Rosen’s quarters, Rollbard the smith came to visit, angry and sad. The Dwarven smith had drunk an enormous amount. Rollbard began to tell Bladeborn and King Rosen the tale of how the Dwarf King had gained the Fifth Ward, which was a great secret.

  “Many years ago, when he was only a Dwarven Prince, King Vimtan himself stole the Fifth Ward from the flying Elf Pyramid,” Rollbard began. “According to the legend, the Dwarf King had been guided by an Avatar of our god, Aden, to the place where the flying pyramid from another world had landed. The King used whacha call a “pocket fob” that his family had passed down since ‘the beginning times’ to travel unobserved, invisible. An’ then he went to the inside of the Pyramid.”

  “So that was why the Elves could not locate him…” Bladeborn thought to himself. “And why he was able to disappear that day in his throne room.”

  Rollbard went on, “The only reason the Dwarf King was even harassing the Elves of the flying pyramid was to get the magical maps back. The maps had been traded in a badly thought-out deal by a previous Dwarf King. Stealing one of the Five Wards was to be more of a ‘prank’ to Vimtan than anything else, I think. He was gonna put it back after he got it, or so
he said. On the other hand, King Vimtan perhaps thought to hold it only briefly for ransom.”

  “What went wrong, Rollbard?” Bladeborn asked the Dwarf.

  After a heavy sigh, Rollbard said, with feeling, “Taking the fifth magic stone had caused the deaths of thousands of Elves! All of them were killed as the Pyramid smacked down onto the ground. The Five Ward’s magic, that was what kept the darn pyramid flying. Just before the pyramid hit the side of the volcanoes where it currently lies, the Dwarf King was ‘teleported away’ to safety by the Dwarven avatar who led him there, a messenger of the gods named ‘Master Steelrock.’”

  “We have discussed Master Steelrock before, Rollbard. You say he was working with Vimtan to steal the ward?”

  “Mater Steelrock said to Vimtan that he had done a very evil act, and that he would live a cursed life after the Elves died. Steelrock Vanished, and Aden’s blessing ended also…plus Vimtan never found the maps.”

  Rollbard’s spirit darkened even more. “It is as if Aden, the Finder of Ways, is angry with us. Vimtan now lives for the day when Aden, or this Avatar called Steelrock, will again speak to him. It is my belief, and the belief of others, that this will never happen. Yet the King fears greatly that his soul will be judged as unworthy for the Dwarven Heaven. After years of trying to find something to do to cleanse his soul of the evil act of accidently killing thousands of Elves, the King gave up on the task. The people and his family who have ruled for generations have always been greedy. Even my own family is greedy, them vermin!”

  “Why would you tell us this...?” Bladeborn asked.

  “I had hoped—” the old mountaineer looked embarrassed and fumbled for words. Then he said humbly, “I had hoped that I could trade this information for a few coin… For, by the gods, I ain’t even got two coins for a mug o’ ale!”

  “Sleep here tonight, good Rollbard,” Bladeborn said. “Tomorrow we will go together to your family, and see what we can do about sobering you up.”

  “Arrgh,” Rollbard said. “You strike me to the core. If there were only a way.” A few moments later, the Dwarf who had told a solid tale, passed out.

  Bladeborn and King Rosen had been amazed and often commented that the apathetic and lazy Dwarves who now lived in the once-magnificent halls under the Spiral Mountains. They wondered, how could the Dwarves in Vimtan’s hall be the descendants of those who had built the place. King Rosen had even guessed that the Dwarves who had moved into the halls were mere squatters there, for the Dwarves showed little interest in working to make their home a welcoming place.

  Now, it appeared to them that like a sickness the Dwarves of the Spiral Mountains were sinking lower into greed, prejudice, and worse forms of behavior. It seemed that until the current King died, there would be no way for the Dwarves of the Spiral Mountains to turn from the path they were on.

  “As a King goes, so follow his people,” King Rosen said.

  ~~King Rosen is wise, for that much is true, Bladeborn. He is a good sort…Trust his judgement and perhaps someday he will adopt you as his son and heir, and you will be ruler of the Five Realms that remain~~

  “I would rather become his brother-in-law, Nightslayer,” Bladeborn thought to the Sword.

  ~~I have told you to disconnect your feelings from Queen Deocarla, Bladeborn~~

  Bladeborn did not respond to the Sword’s goading.

  While awaiting sleep to overtake him that night, Bladeborn examined the Heartring, sure that Deocarla still wore hers. He often thought of the Queen, and now said a brief prayer to Saint Morth for her. He could not imagine that she had married Lord Esket, whom he saw as an opportunistic war profiteer. The Heartring gave him hope that she still loved him. He wondered about her at length, and fell asleep dreaming that someday they would be together as husband and wife.

  The following day, Bladeborn, and Rosen took Rollbard the Mountaineer to his family. They did not know what to expect when they arrived, and Rollbard was nervous as a caged Rockcat.

  They found the old often-tipsy Mountaineer was welcomed into the Rollbard Family Estate apartments. The greater Rollbard family all joined in welcoming their wayward relation back home, and although ashamed of his behavior, he made them happy by promising to “turn his ways to Aden, the finder of the Ways.”

  The old Dwarf had been missed by his family, and it was Rollbard’s pride as much as his drunkenness keeping him from them. The family was very large, and so were the tunnels and rooms that made up the Rollbard Estate, a long series of spaces near the forges that were all well-kept and brightly lit. Bladeborn noted that at least one family, the Rollbards, had not succumbed to the apathy within the Dwarven city. Also, unlike most wealthy Dwarven families they treated their employees well. Spe worked for some members of the same family, and when Bladeborn went to visit him later that morning, the Dragon commented, “Those Rollbard smiths are the only ones who are not bad-tempered or drunken.”

  The next day, a messenger appeared at the door to the apartments where Bladeborn and King Rosen were housed.

  The herald brought a hand-written invitation from the Matron of the Rollbard family to the two humans, asking them to come and live with the Rollbard family.

  “What will King Vimtan think of this,” Bladeborn asked King Rosen. “He may not like being upstaged by a lesser household.”

  “Have you not been paying attention, General?” King Rosen asked. “Vimtan could care less what happens to us. We were of interest to him at first, but he has grown bored of us. I think we should take the Rollbard family up on their invitation, and move from these dingy halls today.”

  As King Rosen suspected there were no repercussions from King Vimtan.

  Inside the Rollbard estate, Bladeborn found cryptic texts on the design of armor and metallurgy. With the help of some of the younger members of the Rollbard family, Bladeborn began the difficult process of translation. Finally, he understood some of the things about armor design and alloy combinations Nightslayer had been trying to impart to him for several years.

  ~~You see now, Bladeborn, why Sir Rodon Thell’s Armor was darkly iridescent? The combination of alloys with the adamantium metal made it so~~

  Bladeborn replied, “King Vimtan promised me a suit of armor, Nightslayer. I will let the Rollbard smiths make it for me—and in this fashion.”

  King Rosen and Bladeborn accepted the Rollbard’s invitation to stay at their estate. After they moved in, they spent the rest of their time in the Dwarven halls in the care of the Rollbard family.

  They nursed Rollbard the Mountaineer back from the grip of strong drink. Having Bladeborn and Rosen for company gave him a good foundation to live free of the mead. King Rosen’s mood also took an upward turn, as he played with the Dwarven children of the Rollbard family, and helped them with their day-to-day lives. One Dwarven child, Groonthine Rollbard, insisted that every night either Bladeborn or King Rosen stay up with her and tell her stories of the outside world. Groonthine also helped them learn how to read and write in the Dwarven language, skills at which she was very good.

  “That Dwarven child, Groonthine, will do well in the world,” King Rosen commented about her, in spite of himself. “Those like her make something of themselves.”

  “Aye,” Bladeborn agreed.

  Spe stayed the entire time near the forges. Every few days he ate a whole living cavern cow, which kept him relatively even tempered, as dragons go. Each day, Bladeborn went to visit.

  Spe was full of complaints about the quality of smiths.

  “These dunder-headed Dwarven smiths are the most brutish louts I have ever the displeasure of not devouring!” Spe decried. “First, my fires are too hot. Then, my flames are too cold! Then, they are too white or blue, and it goes on and on. What is worse is that we often have to rework much of what was done wrong on the previous day.”

  Bladeborn stated, “It sounds as though you are being pushed to your limits, Spe.”

  “That is indeed the case,” the dragon huffed angrily. “Y
et I made a promise to you that I would allow these oafish brutes to access my talents. I have regretted it many times, yet it does not change that I have given my word.”

  Bladeborn said “How are the Rollbards treating you?”

  “They are the only ones who have decent heads on their shoulders. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind working here if it were only them at the forges. But there’s a dozen blacksmiths, other than the two Rollbard ones, and I can find nothing good about any of them. The worst of them is the forge’s foreman! He had me help him make you a shield of adamantium. I wouldn’t rely on it. His technique is flawed, even I know that.”

  Bladeborn nodded and said, “I will ask King Vimtan if the Rollbard master smiths can work on my armor. It will keep the forges busy.”

  “Please do,” Spe exclaimed. “I think sometimes the smiths work only for the sake of keeping busy rather than to really create something lasting. That is the reason their craftsmanship suffers so.”

  Bladeborn asked to meet with King Vimtan. After bargaining back and forth with the King for several days, he got what he wanted—the Rollbard smiths would take over the main share of work at the forges. In exchange, Bladeborn would eventually go North to Elfland in search of the ancient maps that were a gift from Aden to the Dwarven people.

  Spe was very happy about this and could hardly wait to go. But over the next week, Spe’s mood calmed somewhat. The Rollbard master smiths were different—much easier to work with. Spe even learned signals from them. The two Rollbard blacksmiths could indicate when the dragon fire was “…too bright…” or “…too dark…”

  One night, upon returning home, the two elder Rollbards commented that Spe was intelligent and witty, something most of the Dwarf smiths didn’t understand.

  “The dragon often punctuates his comments with suggestions about such things as ‘…crispy Dwarven snacks…’” the grandfather of the Rollbard clan said. “But he means no harm.”