When we arrived at our destination, I noticed that unlike the inns we had encountered elsewhere, there was no placard outside advertising its existence. Khorim explained that dwarven inns were known for their locations, not by names, and trudging inside, he took a deep breath before making a pronouncement.
“Home,” he exhaled with an air of fond memory.
Broda did not seem to share his pleasant memories, and quickly moved to take a seat at a dark corner table. Khorim’s happy expression vanished as he watched her retreat into the shadows, turning instantly from a bright cheerful grin to a look of pain and remorse. There were obviously uncomfortable memories associated with returning home—memories that had far more to do with Broda than Khorim.
I followed Broda into the dimly-lit corner, but she barely glanced up at me as I sat down beside her. The rest of my friends moved to join us, but I waved them off, shooing them towards the opposite side of the large common room. No one had failed to notice Broda’s deteriorating mood, so they did as I asked. Even Khorim gave us the table, and his pleading eyes seemed to look at me with a desperate sense of hope before he left me alone to tend to his wife.
We sat in silence for a while, and I remembered the last time I had shared an emotional moment with her—it had been during my argument with Venna about how I had killed Jorum. I had declared my intent to kill any rapist like him in an equally brutal manner, and while Venna had objected, Broda had been surprisingly emotional in her support.
All of the pieces finally fell into place for me then. Her teary-eyes support for me against Venna; the growing reluctance to return home, a home she had left many years ago, never intending to return. I took Broda’s hand in mine and squeezed it firmly before I spoke.
“Tell me how it happened,” I asked softly as a tear began to fall from my eye.
“I… I was very young then,” she began slowly.
“We played together often, the two brothers and me. They were friends of my family and we had grown up together,” Broda paused for a moment, seeming to gather herself.
“One day they took me on a hike, to a new place they wanted to explore. I went along, happy to discover the area with them. When we got there, they brought me to a cave they had found. It was dark and empty and there wasn’t much there. With nothing to see, I turned to leave—that was when one of them tried to kiss me.”
She suddenly choked up and stopped. I wrapped my arm around her and Broda buried her face in my shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. The sight of strong, willful Broda broken down like that caused my heart to ache terribly. I could tell where her story would be going next and as much as I did not want to hear it, I knew the time had come and Broda needed me there while she released her anguish.
After a while, her sobs faded, and she wiped her eyes as she pushed herself away from me gently. Though she had backed away a little, her hand still held mine in a tight grip.
“I thought it was a joke, a game they were playing,” she continued after taking a deep breath. “I laughed when I pushed him away from me, but they weren’t laughing when they both came at me.”
“I realized then that it was no game, and I fought back hard, but they were both older than me. Bigger. Stronger. They beat me until I couldn’t fight back anymore.”
Broda paused, and fresh tears streamed down her face when she continued.
“Then they both had their way with me.”
“They left me lying on the cold stone, taunting me as they walked away. It took some time for me to recover, not only from the beating they had given me, but from what they had done afterwards as well.”
“I managed to stumble most of the way back home before my brother found me. He saw what I looked like—my torn clothes, where the blood had stained my britches. He knew right away what had happened, and instead of getting help and letting my shame become public knowledge, he took me back to my room in secret.”
“My brother, my beautiful brother,” she said, choking back her emotions. “He tended my wounds and helped me bathe myself when I could not. He doted over me like the gentlest of nurses, wiping away my tears and soothing my wounded pride. When he had done all he could, he tucked me in my bed and told me to stay there until he returned. He never pried, never inquired about the details of my ordeal, only asking me one thing, a single word, before he left—who?”
“I told him who had done it, who had done that terrible thing to me. When I spoke the brothers’ names, he simply nodded and left.”
“He returned several hours later, dirty and bruised. I tried to ask him what had happened, but he refused to tell me.”
“I hid in my room until I was better. When I finally came out again, I learned that the two of them had gone missing. Searches had been conducted, but no sign off them was ever found, and my brother refused to tell me what he had done—we never spoke of it again.”
“When Khorim asked me to marry him, I told him a much shorter version of this story—I felt he deserved to know… Deserved to opportunity to back out. He held me in his arms and told me it didn’t matter to him, that he loved me and that the only dwarves that had been degraded that day were the two that had attacked me.”
“When my brother died, there was nothing left for me here but horrible memories. I left, and as much as it pained him to do so, Khorim left with me. We never set foot in Dhel-Ar again until this very day.”
As we looked at each other with eyes full of tears, Broda bowed her head for a moment before going on.
“I’ve never told the tale, Dreya—not to anyone. Khorim himself only knows the bare bones of it, but now that I have, I feel as if a burden has been lifted; a black stain removed from my soul. Venna told me that Sintári means ‘true feeling.’ It seems that the power you have is not limited to yourself or your own feelings; you have helped me heal a deep wound this day, a wound I thought beyond any hope of being cured, and you have made me feel comfortable again in my homeland. I have missed this place dearly over the years.”
Broda embraced me tightly as she finished speaking, and even more tears were shed as I returned her embrace. We sat together in the darkness for a while after, each recovering from the emotional toll Broda’s confession had on us. When she felt sure of herself once more, Broda rose from the table and motioned for me to follow.
“Come,” she told me. “I’ve left my fool husband alone for far too long. There’s no telling what he might have gotten himself into by now.”
With that, the powerful woman I had always known was suddenly back once again. Only now, I knew that she was stronger than she had ever been before—her revelation had served to heal a fracture within her soul, an ugly break that had finally been set straight. It would still be some time before her wounds would heal, and there would always be a scar that remained behind, but I had no doubt that given time, Broda, just like a broken bone, would wind up even stronger in the end.
20
That night, we stayed at the inn carved into the mountainside. After breakfast the next morning, we began our march further into Dhel-Ar towards the capitol city of Rhoboth, where the steady dot on my map indicated we would find the next token. The road we followed took us even further underground, and as Khorim led us forward, I marveled at the wonders we passed.
The road itself was incredible to behold. Carved from the bones of the great mountain, it glittered with flecks and veins of metal. Here and there, gem stones studded its surface, exquisitely carved and left in place where the road had uncovered them.
Along the way, we passed small towns and other structures, all of which bore intricate designs and carvings across their facades. Here too, the bounty of the mountain was left on display as the metals and jewels remained embedded in the stonework wherever they had been discovered.
We traveled for several more days underground before finally reaching the outskirts of Rhoboth. As much as the elven city of Oróna had been a study in delicate flowing lines, Rhoboth was a tribute to sheer might. Set inside the confines of a
tremendous cavern, towering structures rose from stout foundations to loom over the city. Great statues and idols decorated the byways and streets in tribute to Gods and heroes alike, all of it adorned in the dwarven style of ornate carvings and elaborate metalwork.
While the rest of us walked through the great underground city in amazement, Broda and Khorim strolled along with the aloofness of locals, casually pointing out remembered locations to each other as we passed, but it was late in the day when we arrived, and we decided to hold off discovering the exact location of the token until morning. After a quick discussion with Broda, Khorim led us to an inn they felt would meet our needs for the night.
We sat together for a meal that evening as we began planning our next move. Khorim had managed to obtain a more detailed map of the city, and using it as a guide, I pulled out my Amulet and tried to find the exact location of the token. We were all taken aback when we realized that the spot we were looking for turned out to be deep inside the royal palace.
“By the forge!” Khorim declared. “That’s not just the palace, girl, it’s the damn Throne Room.”
“I’m not sure how we’re going to talk our way in there,” Stel mused. “Much less take anything away from it.”
“You just leave that to us,” Khorim said slyly. “It’ll be a surprise.”
Broda looked at him through squinted eyes before finally nodding in reluctant agreement.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” I said cautiously.
“Yes,” Broda replied. “Well, unfortunately we do.”
Despite our attempts, the two dwarves steadfastly refused to provide any details, insisting that we trust them. Since they had left us with no other choice, we were forced to accept their terms before retiring for the night.
The next morning, after a quick breakfast, we all returned to our rooms. Although he would still provide no details, Khorim insisted we look our best, so we polished our armor and weapons to a high shine, as combat attire was the preferred formal wear among the dwarves. Even if it hadn’t been, the only other option we had was the formalwear Birt had bestowed upon us.
Tási put on her best set of robes, a beautiful red outfit with gold embroidery. The fabric was quite lovely, but still hid her figure well under its bulky outline. It was a shame she felt the need to cover herself so, but until we could change this world, innocent people like Tási would feel the need to protect themselves as best they could. When we descended the stairs down to the common room, I discovered the rest of my friends already gathered there.
Stel’s plate shone brightly in the light of the room and his shield was polished to a high gloss. Venna’s heavy chain sparkled in the candlelight and the bright blue of her tabard brought out the color of her own light blue eyes. Even Khorim’s leather was buffed to perfection, while Broda’s armor and hammers positively glowed. After ensuring that each of us was ready, Khorim led us from the inn and headed straight for the palace gates. When we finally reached the entrance, Khorim was brought to a halt by the guards as he attempted to simply stroll past them.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Khorim protested.
“No admittance without an invitation,” the guard replied with indifference.
“Since when does the Princess need an invitation to visit her uncle, the King?” Khorim replied indignantly.
Broda had stepped forward as Khorim spoke, and when the guard saw her, a look of sheer terror crossed his face. Falling to one knee, he began to apologize.
“I’m so sorry, your Highness,” he plead. “We were not told of your return.”
I could only observe the interaction in shocked silence. All this time we had been traveling with dwarven royalty and we hadn’t even known it. The guards stepped aside, and we followed Khorim and Broda mutely as they led us into the great palace.
“Now might be a great time to let us know if anyone else is some sort of legendary myth or royal heir,” Tási finally commented as we walked through the ornately carved halls.
“Not either of us,” Stel replied flatly.
“Me neither,” Tási added.
Khorim was strangely silent.
“Khorim, is there anything you’d like to add?” I prodded.
“Well, let’s just say Princesses don’t usually marry commoners and leave it at that,” he grumbled.
“What my husband means is that he is the second son of one of the more prominent Lords,” Broda clarified for him. “While his position comes with no formal title, he is counted among the nobility.”
“Don’t worry Khorim, my friend,” I offered. “You’ll always be master dwarf to me.”
Khorim grumbled to himself again, but I saw the corner of his mouth curl up in a grin as well. He continued to lead us deeper into the palace, stopping only when we reached the sealed door to the Throne Room.
“Protocol requires that you all take a knee before the King,” Broda explained as we paused there. “A simple gesture of respect, not fealty.”
“I will remain standing. As his niece, it would be improper for me to do otherwise,” she continued.
“Dreya,” she added turning to me. “You shall also remain on your feet. There will be some outrage at this, but let me handle that.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if I simply went along?”
“No,” Broda said firmly. “He must see you as an equal from the very start. My uncle respects strength, and he will understand when I explain it to him.”
Trusting Broda’s instincts, I accepted her plan.
We took our places in front of the massive doors and Khorim signaled for them to be opened. Word of our arrival must have traveled ahead of us, because the vast chamber was packed with curious spectators. Marching forward, Khorim stopped us when we reached a respectful distance from the throne and took a knee before the King. The others followed suit, save for Broda and I, who stood side by side in front of the King.
A murmur spread through the gathered throng, wondering who it might be that refused to honor their King. Broda silenced them when she spoke.
“My uncle, my King,” she said proudly. “After a long absence, I have finally returned home. I have much to tell you, and a formal introduction to make, but what I have to tell you must remain between us, for I fear it has great bearing on the future of Dhel-Ar. I ask that you allow us a private audience so that I may give you my news.”
The King seemed to ponder her words for just a moment before gesturing to his aides. Immediately, the room began to clear and in short order, we found ourselves alone with the King.
With the room now empty, and no one to observe him, the King’s aloof manner vanished abruptly, and he rushed from his throne and took Broda in a fervent embrace.
“Broda, my dearest niece,” the King exclaimed as he hugged her. “I thought you were lost to me forever!”
“For a time, I was lost to myself, uncle,” Broda replied as he finally released her.
“I have missed you, missed my home,” she continued. “But my return has not been prompted by my own desires. Something far greater than that has brought us here today.”
“Uncle,” Broda’s voice turned deadly serious. “For my sake, for the sake of your Kingdom, and for the sake of all of Arrika, what I am about to tell you must remain between us.”
“What could possibly be that important?” The King asked incredulously, shocked by the tone of her request.
“You must promise me first,” Broda replied. “I assure you it is as important as I have said, maybe even more so.”
“Broda,” the King said solemnly. “You have my word. As your King, and as your uncle, I will not tell another soul.”
“Thank you, uncle.”
“You have met my husband Khorim,” Broda continued. “I want you to know that he has been the light in my life for all the years we have been gone. I would never have made it without him, and I want you to know that it is him more than anyone, who is responsible for my return.”
Khorim grew mis
ty-eyed at Broda’s declaration. Even the King seemed to become emotional with Broda’s loving words.
“Next to him are Stel and Venna,” Broda went on. “They have been our companions for a long time. They have fought with us valiantly over the years and we owe each other our lives many times over. It has been our honor to share many nights drinking with them both, reveling in our victories.”
“Tási,” Broda said turning to the halfling, “Is the most recent addition to our group, but even in the brief time she has journeyed with us, I have come to count her as both a friend and a trustworthy companion in battle.”
“But Dreya is the reason why we are here today,” Broda continued, saving me for last. “She has fought beside us many times, and restored Khorim to life when he was taken from us by a treacherous attack. My elven friends have called her Sintári, and I confess that I do not know what that means, but I witnessed myself when the Lady of the Forest blessed and paid homage to her.”
The King’s eyes went wide at these revelations, but Broda did not stop there.
“What I do know is that Dreya is on a quest—I believe it is a sacred quest, given to her by the Gods. She has been chosen by them for some great task, and it is the pursuit of that quest that brings us here this day.”
“What is it you would have of me?” The King asked when Broda had finished.
“Thank you, your Majesty,” I replied gratefully. “I am seeking a small artifact. It is somewhere nearby; I thought it was in this room, but now that we are here, I can tell that it lies somewhere directly beneath us.”
The King stepped back involuntarily as I revealed the location, and a look of near horror crossed his face.
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