Into the Hells

by Christopher Johns

  “Now?” I groaned.

  “No, right now—we experiment.” She pulled out a heavy chisel and hammer and began chipping the earth from the large chunk of ore.

  When it was clean—well, as clean as it would be—she took the chisel and tapped off a piece the size of my thumb.

  “Call Rowland with your spell and have him come to us,” Vilmas ordered. I looked at her for a second, and she added, “I know you’ve spoken to Lady Shellica with it before because I was there a couple times and she explained it. Now do it!”

  I focused on my friend Rowland before I cast Mental Message, “Hey, Rowland, it’s Zeke. Can you come to the tavern real fast? I need your help.”

  “I’ll be there in two gulps of a Dwarf’s mug, lad!” the Dwarf shouted back.

  I shook my head; normally the conversations took place mentally, quietly. It was like using my telepathy earring, but that had been loud as fuck.

  “He’s coming,” I informed Vilmas.

  Vrawn walked in a moment later, with a towel in her hand as she dried her head. She had changed clothes. Now she wore a pair of green trousers with a black, sleeveless top and no boots.

  “Sorry, I took longer getting washed up after my morning run than I expected.” She glanced over my shoulder. “That was what you were working on last night?”

  “Yeah, and there’s a pretty big vein of it in the mountain where I had been digging.” I walked over to it and felt it. It was surprisingly warm to the touch.

  I heard a roaring shout and wood splintering toward the front of the building. Vrawn flinched and sprinted toward the front.

  “Vilmas, stay here!” I barked and slammed her door shut on my way out. I sprinted down the hall and brought my great axe with the invisible blade and hammer, Magus Bane, into my hands.

  I ran into chaos. The door to the tavern was splintered, and chunks hung from the hinges. Chairs were upturned, a table was upended in the middle of the room, and in the center of a group of confused and scared patrons stood Rowland with a large hammer in his hands, casting his eyes wildly about and shouting.

  “Where’s he?” He spat. “Where’s the trouble? Zeke! Lad! Where be ye?”

  “I’m over here, buddy,” I answered him as calmly as I could. My adrenaline had spiked, and it would take a minute to calm myself. “What’s going on?”

  “Ye said ye needed help in me mind, lad!” He was still looking for an enemy. “Ye never done tha’ afore. So ah came a haulin’ with me hammer fer a fight!”

  “Shit,” I grumbled. I walked toward him after I put my axe away. “I didn’t need help from a fight, man. I found some ore that we didn’t recognize, and we wanted your help with it.”

  Rowland stood there, ashamed of his actions and clearly abashed. He looked toward the counter area where Willem stood, calmly cleaning a plate.

  “I’m so sorry, Willy.” He sat his hammer down on its head and crossed his hands over it. “Ye know I be more than happy to pay me recompense.”

  “I know you are, and I know you’re good for it.” The Paladin came out from behind the counter, marched over to stand next to the smith, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  His voice was much quieter now, but I just caught what was said, “You haven’t been quite the same since you were attacked, my friend. Are you alright?”

  “O’ course I am, lad.” Rowland shrugged off Willem’s hand and looked up at the taller man. “Am fine. Just a little confused. Call me lass—she’ll have yer door fixed right proper afore closing tonight.”

  “I will. Go help Zeke.” Willem began to approach the patrons as Rowland took up his hammer and began to follow me toward Vilmas’s room.

  Vrawn fell in behind him as we walked passed her, then into Vilmas’s room we went.

  “Well, what can I do fer ye? Good Mountain—what is THAT?!” Rowland rushed over to the large clump of green ore.

  “I found it in the Lightning Mountains. Can you tell us what it is?” I walked over and sat on the bed, the rush from the prospect of fighting having passed and the adrenaline sapping a little of my will to stand around.

  “I’ve not seen the like before, lad. I do knows that in certain climes, metals will turn green if exposed to something like the seas or high amounts of salt in the air. This? This metal is new to me.”

  He began to tap it with a smaller hammer he produced from his inventory. He would tap, listen, tap, listen, tap again, and listen as he moved around the piece.

  “Has a good sound to it, rings true. A light metal. If ye get me to it, I can get ye a good read on what kind of properties it has.”

  “This will be more than enough for our purposes I think—if you want enough to make an ingot, please go ahead.” Vilmas nodded at it.

  I noticed it a little the last time Rowland had been near her, but now it was apparent. He looked at her, and his pupils dilated, he licked his lips, and he began to nod. But even though there was a new metal in the room, a smith’s dream and nightmare—his eyes were only for Vilmas.

  I cleared my throat loud enough to get his attention before speaking, “I’ll help you get a chunk of it if you like, Rowland. Do you have a large file I could borrow? We need to get this bad boy turned into powder.”

  He blinked up at me a few times and nodded. “Aye, lad. I have one. Help me, like ye said, and I’ll fetch it for ye.”

  Getting a good sized chunk off the ore wasn’t hard. This piece was about double the size of my fist, long and wide. Rowland put the item into his inventory before bowing awkwardly at his waist to Vilmas, turning and walking out of the room swiftly.

  “I’m gonna go and get that file,” I smiled at the others, “as well as however many of the plaques that are finished. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “Take your time.” Vilmas smiled serenely.

  “And do make sure that he is okay,” Vrawn requested. “I would hate for the guard to have to become involved.”

  I nodded once before I exited the room and left the tavern to find the Dwarf.

  I sent a call to the others over our earrings. Everything is okay. It was Rowland, and he’s not doing well, mentally, I think. Willem pointed it out. I’m gonna check on him and speak to you guys later.

  Be safe, man, Jaken responded. The others were silent, but it was okay. He would pass the word on or not. What was done was done. We needed to see what was going on.

  It was about halfway to his smithy before I found him. He was panting a bit and leaning against the side of a home. As I came up on him from behind, he whipped around and swung his large hammer at me with a savage shout.

  I ducked the blow and smacked the smaller man across the face with a light open palm. “Rowland! It’s me!”

  His mouth twisted in a frown of recognition. “What’d ye strike me for, lad?”

  “You swung that big-ass hammer of yours at me,” I growled, then stopped. His reactions, mannerisms, and even how he looked—I’d seen it before when I had been in the Marine Corps.

  I could see it now; his eyes had shadows beneath them. He looked tired—yeah I know he was up all night working, but this looked different. His beady, black eyes darted about behind me distrustfully, and he had a death grip on his hammer.

  “It started when we brought you back, didn’t it?” I asked softly.

  “What did?” He looked confused and irritated.

  “Watching your back constantly. Having trouble sleeping. The mood swings that you can’t explain. Anxiety, maybe?” He stared at me hard. Then he turned and stalked away.

  “It’s okay to be afraid, Rowland!” I called after him. He stopped. “It’s okay to not know what waits in the shadows. Those guys jumped you. Like cowards. In a fair fight—you’d have taken them.”

  He turned and marched toward me with a tear in his eye. “And what would ye know o’ bein’ afeared o’ the dark? O’ seein’ the dancin’ flames o’ the forge ye once loved mean little. Needin’ to beat and shape metal ta keep the nightmares at bay when ye cannae sle
ep? What would ye know, lad?”

  His beard was a little damp as he asked the last question. I knelt down in front of him and looked him straight in the eyes. I looked as if I was looking through him and told him.

  “When I was home, I would constantly have dreams about my friends and family being tortured in front of me as I watched, helplessly chained to a wall,” I sighed and looked at the ground, the memories claiming me a little. “I had a shitty life at times, and I was—still am—my worst critic. I beat myself to a pulp when I can’t help the people around me because I can’t help myself. Because I feel sad, and I can’t figure out why. So I throw myself into everything I can to just stay out of my own head.”

  “I know a little of what you’re going through, man. I have friends, some of the best people I know—great warriors, great artists—consumed by what you feel now. They deal with it every day, just like you.” I reached out and touched his chest lightly. “And just like you, they have strong hearts, but they still hurt. They don’t all have friends and family who made sure the bastards who hurt them are dead.”

  He frowned. “Me cousin Craglim never related the tale to me. Before ye leave, could ye tell me? The lads and ye?”

  I looked him in the eyes and nodded. “I’m going to do you one better. Some people dealing with what you are have pets, dogs usually, who help them cope with the things they’re feeling and help them work through it.”

  “I don’t have time to train a dog, lad.” Rowland waved dismissively.

  “Let me see what I can do, okay?” He looked at me skeptically. “If you don’t like it after a couple days, no hard feelings, and I’ll even see if Vilmas would like to have dinner with you?”

  “Deal!” Rowland held out his hand, and I shook it.

  “Give me an hour or so, and I’ll be back to the smithy to see what’s what, okay?”

  He grumbled and got on his way. I shifted into my owl form and took off for the forest.

  After about five minutes of breakneck flight, I set down in a small glade before shifting back and sitting on the ground in the center.

  In Druidic, I prayed out loud to Mother Nature.

  “Mother, I hope you have a moment to spare. I wondered if you have any creatures in the area who would be willing to befriend a Dwarf in need. He suffers from something that eats at his mind, and he needs a friend to love him and comfort him. Someone smart. Lovable. Who doesn’t mind the heat of a forge? Someone he can trust and befriend.”

  I heard the trees shifting in the breeze. Birdsong and the flutter of wings in the air above me and out around me made me open my eyes. The trees here were beautiful. Their bark was untouched, despite the fresh deer or elk tracks.

  I heard a rustle behind me, the faintest sound I had heard since arriving here, and cast Nature’s Voice for the first time today—just in case.

  A small, vulpine figure limped out of the bushes behind me; her fur was a deep red, deeper still around her injured left hind leg. I reached out slowly and cast Regrowth on the fox kit.

  “Hello, little one,” I whispered softly. “What happened?”

  “Snake,” it whined. “It attacked my nest while mother was gone. My sister… she didn’t make it.”

  My anger flared, and I scooped the little creature into my arms.

  I know that you oversee all nature, but damn Mother, that was cruel, I growled inside my head.

  I give, I take. All my children must eat, and not all make it away from a predator. I gave her my blessing. Her mother was taken by a mountain lion a day or so ago. She is an orphan now. Take her to this friend of yours and explain the situation.

  The response—while biting—was true. I still couldn’t help being a little pissed about it though. As I sat with her, I explained where I would be taking her.

  “Will there be food?” she asked shyly.

  “There will, and my friend Rowland will help take great care of you.” I thought a moment about how best to put this and opted for honestly. “But he needs caring for too. See, he needs someone smart and lovable like you to help him. Some people hurt him really badly, and while he’s not injured anymore, his mind still hurts. And his heart.”

  “His heart hurts?” Her large ears perked up. “I’ve never heard of someone’s heart hurting. Does he need a friend?”

  “He does need a friend.” I smiled, her innocence was adorable. “What’s your name?”

  “My name is Min.” Her little face fell. “It’s what mother and sister would call me.”

  “Does it remind you of them? If it hurts, we can call you something else.” I patted her head. “If you’re ready, I’ll put you into my collar, and I’ll take you to meet Rowland.”

  “You won’t eat me?” she asked nervously.

  “No, baby, I won’t eat you. I swear it to all the gods and Mother Nature.” Her eyes widened at me for mentioning her deity.

  She looked uncertain but tapped the stone with her nose, and I willed her into the collar. A short while later, I was landing in front of the smithy. The sun was high in the sky by now, meaning noon had arrived.

  I walked into the forge in my fox-man form and called for the smith. Jaken walked out, his face covered in soot, and his clothes were filthy.

  Rowland waddled out of the forge area behind him. “Yer in luck, lad—we just finished the last of the plaques. Got a hunnerd and twenty-five.”

  “Awesome, you guys!” I shook both of their hands. “Rowland, I need you to clean your hands, then come back in here. I have a friend I’d like you to meet.”

  To his credit, Rowland seemed to be in a better mood, so he just did as I asked. He tossed his apron aside on to the counter, then went out back to a trough of water to wash his hands.

  I turned to Jaken who looked at me curiously. “He has PTSD man, bad. You noticed it yet?”

  “I had been wondering why he smacked me with a hammer last night when I came back in from taking a leak.” He rubbed his head at the memory. “There are other things I’ve noticed, sure, but I thought he was just getting cagey with wanting to work after not being able to. Makes sense now. Who’s the friend you mentioned?”

  “I found a fox kit who lost her family to natural causes, and she wouldn’t have been okay on her own.” I eyed around the corner.

  Rowland had dunked his whole head into the trough and came back out sputtering. He raised an arm and took a whiff of it before grunting and looking away.

  “Looks like he’s taking a hobo bath,” I grunted at Jaken.

  “Does that a lot—I don’t think he’s gone home since the attack, man.” He walked around me and stood there, watching his trainer. “The place was a complete mess when we first came back. Took a whole hour to get it somewhat back to rights.”

  I looked at him oddly, and he sighed. “Before I could close my eyes and know where every single tool was by touch alone. It was that perfect. At first, I thought it was just because he was trying to get back into the swing of things and didn’t want to worry us. I left it alone because he asked me to. Now? I’m not so sure I should have.”

  My eyebrows raised. Shit.

  “Alright, lad. I even changed me shirt. Who am I meetin’?”

  “Close your eyes,” I ordered with a grin. I loved giving surprises.

  “Oh, fer the Mountain’s sake, lad.” He grimaced and followed my order.

  I called Min out of my collar and pointed to Rowland, her large eyes taking him before I gently spoke, Nature’s Voice still in effect, “This is him.”

  She looked at him curiously and began to snuff close to him. I crossed the couple feet between us and pulled Rowland’s hand up and out so that Min could step on to it.

  The Dwarf’s eyes shot open at the touch, and he looked at her in confusion, then at me in outrage.

  “Ye kitnapped a wee baby?” He pulled her protectively toward his burly chest.

  “I’ll explain.” I raised my hands to fend off his accusations.

  I told them both the story about what I
had done, what had happened to her mother and sister, and Rowland had taken to petting her gently the entire time.

  “So she’s like me own daughter then? Got ye no ma, no kin o’ yer own?” He held her up to his face, and Min yipped at him. “Well, I cannae very well leave ye out there on yer own, can I now? Ye said her name was Min?”

  The little fox kit whined sadly at the sound of her name.

  “It was what her family called her,” I explained. “It kinda makes her a little sad to be reminded of the loss.”

  “Well, there be no shame in loss, little lassie.” Rowland stroked her head for a moment longer in thought. “I wouldn’t want ye to lose yer heritage, but I don’t want ye sad, neither. How about I call ye Mini? Cause yer such a wee thing?”

  The kit seemed to think about it for a second, then butted her head against Rowland’s cheek.

  “I like it. He smells funny,” she observed as she shoved her nose into his beard.

  “If you don’t need me, Rowland, I can take those plaques off your hands and head back to the inn.” A mischievous grin came over my face. “I’ll go ahead and put that good word in for you too, but you’ll need a proper bath before the date.”

  “Take care of him, lad.” The Dwarf motioned to Jaken. “I’m off to get Mini something to eat. Poor thing’s skin and bones. Gotta get her fed right up, we do.”

  He set the fox on the ground, and the kit looked to me; then with a flick of her tail, she rushed after Rowland for food.

  “I’ve got them all in my inventory, so I can just go back to the inn with you.” Jaken took his apron off and hung it on a nail just inside the doorway to the forge. “Come on.”

  “The file, we’ll need that too,” I let him know. “Rowland already agreed to let me borrow it.”

  Jaken popped back into the forge area and grabbed a file the size of a sword with a hilt almost like one.

  After that, it was a quick walk to the tavern, but on the way, Jaken told me what the others were up to.

  Muu was resupplying and using his time here to train his skinning and leatherworking. He was trying to work through his lack of knowledge and wanted to be left to it, so I didn’t have a chance to tell him about the Bear-kin armorers. Damn. They’d love him.