The Hammer of Fire

by Tom Liberman

  “Wham,” went the hammer and another spike drove into the wall.

  “Two more and we drive a cross spike,” said Brogus, holding the spike at the end without even looking as Dol brought he hammer in for another blow.

  “Crash,” sounded the hammer and a shower of bricks flew from the wall.

  “That’s enough,” said Brogus placing a spike at angle to the ones already in the wall.

  Dol brought the hammer down again and an entire section of brick tumbled to the floor with a terrible crash.

  “Now,” said Brogus. “One good blow and we’ll punch through.”

  No sooner had the big dwarf uttered the words than Dol’s hammer hit the wall with terrible blow and the old limestone crumbled beneath it. Daylight streamed through.

  “You did it!” screamed Milli almost jumping up and down as she peered at the two from around a little bend. “We’re through, come on!” She dashed out and ducked down to crawl past the narrow opening. Dol was next and Brogus came up the rear.

  He spotted one of his iron spikes on the ground in the debris of fallen bricks and reached down to pick it up, “Waste not, want … by the spirit of the elders,” he said and suddenly dropped the spike with a flip of his hand. The thing rang out as it scuttled across the floor and he stared at his hand for a moment, “That’s not possible.” He stared at his hand and felt the pain of the burning heat beginning to spread.

  “Come on, you big oaf, there’s a bunch of things out here with four legs and a lot of teeth,” came Milli’s voice from outside in the blinding sunshine.

  Brogus took one more look back at the iron spike now resting on the floor and shook his hand in pain. “Coming, coming.”

  Chapter 7

  Seven dwarfs sat in solidly made, thick stone chairs these on a raised podium decorated at the corners with flourishes depicting axes, hammers, and shields. Before them stood a single dwarf dressed in heavy plate armor that gleamed in the intense light thrown down by a hundred glow-stones embedded in the walls of the huge spherical chamber. The highly polished marble floor looked glass-like as the reflections of the seven on the podium were so clear that they almost appeared to be separate dwarves. Around the chamber stood one hundred tall, fluted columns each with a massive volute at the cap. Etched into the podium the faces of fifty dwarfs stared starkly down at the petitioner in front of them. Around the perimeter of the chamber stood two dozen dwarves, these wearing heavy plate mail that gleamed bright gold as if polished just a few hours before and carrying massive pikes at least ten feet tall with wicked curved blades at the tip.

  Outside the pillars and in a large alcove hundreds more dwarves stood and watched the proceedings in a state of silence.

  “High Council,” said the young dwarf who stood before the podium, “We must chase down the criminals and bring them to justice. We cannot allow this theft to go unpunished. What sort of message would that be to the younger generation of dwarves? There is also the grave danger the criminals will reveal the location of Craggen Steep to our enemies. The girl is not a dwarf and the half-breed cannot be trusted because of his tainted blood line.”

  The dwarf in the extreme rightmost chair on the podium leaned forward, one of the jewel-encrusted, platinum bands around his beard clunked into the stone podium. “What you say is true, Cleathelm Firefist,” he replied and stroked his beard with his left hand which showed massive gemstones set into a golden ring on each finger. “The thieves must not be allowed to escape. What puzzles me is the reluctance of the High Councilor to recognize this fact. Why must we debate this issue when time is of the greatest importance? A cadre of our warriors must set out in pursuit at once.”

  “This is not a decision to be made lightly,” intoned the dwarf at the center of the podium who sat on the chair with the highest back. “There are those among us, including its creator, who wish the hammer to be used in the world.” He spoke slowly and deliberately with each word hanging in the air for a long moment.

  “That doesn’t make any difference,” squealed Cleathelm from the floor. “We cannot allow them to get away with stealing. What sort of example does that send to the younger dwarfs?”

  “Your duty is to present your case; not harangue the High Council,” said the dwarf in the center of the podium.

  The dwarf to the extreme right shook his head and mouthed, “Be quiet,” to Cleathelm. “High Councilor,” he said and turned to face the dwarf at the center of the long table. “The petitioner is my son and a fine lad, but he has the headstrong nature of youth. Forgive him for his words.”

  The High Councilor nodded his head, “Make your arguments, Councilor Six,” he said in the same slow, monotonous tone.

  “While my son is rash what he says is essentially true, High Councilor. However, there is more to this unfortunate episode than merely the theft of the hammer. I’ve spoken with the Master at Arms and he tells me that agents of the dwarves who sit in this very room misdirected the pursuit. The Blackirons have much to gain from the humiliation of the Firefist name. It is clear to me Borrombus Blackiron planned this theft along with the First Edos,” continued Councilor Six with a sharp glance at the councilor in the far left hand seat of the chamber.

  “Do not refer to High Council members by their name, Councilor Six,” interrupted the guard closest to the podium. He wore a set of scintillating plate mail like the others and carried not a pike, but a massive axe which he held across his chest. His helmet was etched with the symbol of a golden ram its thick horns curling up and around and glistening silver in the well-lit room.

  “My apologies,” said the sixth councilor with a bob of his head towards Borrombus who sat in the chair on the opposite side of the podium. “It is my opinion that Councilor Five is a traitorous wretch who hopes to overthrow the High Council and take power into his own hands. Does that suit the decorum of the High Guard of the Council any better?”

  “Hardly polite, but at least Councilor Six follows the rules as he swore to do when he took his seat on the Council,” said Borrombus with a wave of his hand. “Intrigue and manipulation of the High Council is not a crime, High Councilor. Even if I was involved in the so-called theft of the Hammer of Fire you cannot prosecute me. Did not one of our illustrious seven pay upwards of a million gold coins to have his son made apprentice to the First Edos just six months ago?”

  “That position has always been subject to negotiation,” sputtered the sixth councilor as he got to his feet and waved a finger at Borrombus. “What you have done is treason to the council itself. You go against the will of the majority to further your agenda. We discussed this issue! We voted!”

  “Is this violence?” said Borrombus.

  The High Councilor looked over at the sixth councilor, “Sit down, please.” Then he looked over at Borrombus, “Councilor Six is correct, Councilor Five. This issue came before us and we did vote. The hammer was stolen against the will of the council; there can be no questioning this fact.”

  “This is madness,” shouted Cleathelm from the floor as he pulled off his steel helmet. “Delius, Brogus, and the girl are escaping. They are all low-born creatures and they have one of the great relics of Craggen Steep. If the hammer is to be used at all it should be used by a dwarf of good breeding!”

  “The petitioner will restrain himself,” said the High Councilor and two of the pike men on the floor took several steps towards the young dwarf apprentice.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Torragus,” said Cleathelm to the High Councilor.

  “You will refer to me as High Councilor,” said the man in the center of the podium although he could not prevent a small smile from coming across his face. “I understand it is an excitable event but we must deliberate calmly before rendering a decision. Councilor Five, you admit that the theft was against the will of the Council?”

  “It was against the will of the majority of the High Council, I will admit,” said Borrombus with a shrug of his shoulders and a sly smile, “but it is not against the will of the Firs
t Edos who created the hammer or of the current First Edos.”

  “Past or present, the First Edos has no vote in council,” said the sixth councilor from his seat at the far end of the podium. “It has been the tradition of the High Council to consider the First Edos an honorary member at times but this is not binding position.”

  “At times?” said Borrombus.

  “At times,” replied Councilor Six.

  “This is a patent disregard for tradition. An ugly insistence upon the letter of the law rather than its spirit,” said Borrombus with a shake of his head and a deep frown that accentuated his bulbous cheeks.“The First Edos has always been awarded a vote on the High Council and even given veto power on many occasions.”

  “You consider the law of Craggen Steep, as laid down by Dar Drawhammer in the aftermath of the expulsion of the elementals, to be flawed in some way?” said the High Councilor in that steady tone of his.

  Borrombus closed his mouth and sat in silence for a few seconds while Cleathelm snickered quietly from the below, “I have the utmost respect for the laws laid down by Dar Drawhammer but I also respect the traditions that have evolved over the last five thousand years since that momentous event. In all that time the First Edos has traditionally been given a vote in High Council.”

  “When the First Edos is not of noble blood that tradition has often been ignored,” said the Councilor Six in a firm voice. “You cannot deny that, surely.”

  “Only in the last few centuries have the families ignored the First Edos in those circumstances and that is the underlying poison that is destroying Craggen Steep from within. Only members of the three families can gain advancement in our realm. The best young dwarves of the lower classes are being ignored and passed over.”

  “So, your true agenda reveals itself,” said Councilor Six.

  “All seven members of this council are Firefists, Drawhammers, or Blackirons. There has not been a member of the council from another family in almost fifty years. You must see what that is doing to our nation!”

  “That is not the purpose of this council meeting,” said the High Councilor and his hand went to a small, golden hammer that lay on the table in front of him. “We have covered that topic to my satisfaction in previous meetings. Now, we must decide an action to take in the matter of the Hammer of Fire.”

  “It’s about time,” said Cleathelm from the floor as he stared plaintively up at the men at the table. “Every second is important. We’ve already wasted three days getting the council together and following your stupid rules. We have to send fighters right now if we want to catch Delius and his friends.”

  The guards moved forward and lowered their pikes to his chest, this threat immediately silenced the outburst.

  “I move to adjourn so that calmer heads might prevail,” Borrombus quickly interjected into the conversation.

  “That’s ridiculous!” said the councilor at the end opposite the fat man.

  “High Councilor?” said Borrombus, “I’ve made a motion.”

  The High Councilor looked up and down the table for a moment and put his hand one of the gem encrusted bands that held his beard in place.

  “Don’t do it, brother,” said the Sixth Councilor. “He only needs three votes.”

  “You don’t respect the laws laid down by Dar Drawhammer?” said Borrombus. “I call for an adjournment.”

  The High Councilor sat in silence for long minutes while everyone waited for his pronouncement. On the floor young Cleathelm started to open his mouth but a glance from his father silenced the words in his throat. “The request was made within the rules laid down by our forefathers and I therefore grant it. All those in favor of an adjournment raise your right hand.”

  Three of the seven, Borrombus, an older dwarf with a bald head and a long gray beard, and another who bore a striking resemblance to the fat dwarf raised their hands.

  “For the love of Davim!” said the Sixth Councilor. “I propose a special session of the High Council be called tomorrow.”

  “Once the High Council has adjourned no new session may be formed without emergency cause for at least two weeks,” said Borrombus.

  “It’s an emergency!” said the Sixth Council standing up from his seat and pointing his finger at the fat dwarf. “The Hammer of Fire was stolen! Half-breeds and alien girls have one of the great relics of the realm. It is a catastrophe!”

  “The definition of emergency is fully declared in the articles of Drawhammer,” said Borrombus. “Perhaps we need to call an Interpretation Assembly. We’ll need to gather the elders from the original five families ….”

  “No, no, I retract my objection,” said the Sixth Councilor as he waved his hands in surrender. “I accept the adjournment.”

  “The adjournment is granted,” intoned the High Councilor. “The next session of the High Council will meet in two weeks on the second cleave of the Holy Hammer.” With this he banged his golden hammer on the table where it made an almost inaudible little thud.

  Minutes later Cleathelm walked down a wide corridor with his father who stood almost six inches shorter and the elder’s beard occasionally dragged along the floor. “By the devil, to be outmaneuvered by that vile Borrombus enrages me. What would your grandfather say?” he said to the young warrior.

  “I guess … he’d …,” started Cleathelm.

  “It was a rhetorical question, you imbecile. The Council can’t be called again for two weeks and there’s nothing to be done. I can’t send soldiers without a positive vote. You had to open your stupid mouth to your uncle, didn’t you? After I told you to state the complaint and then shut up. I wrote down exactly what you were to say and specifically told you to stick to the script.”

  “I thought ….”

  “Don’t think! You idiot. By the Princes of the Nine Hells you take after your uncle on your mother’s side. You do not think. You do as I say. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, father.”

  “Now, we have to figure out what do about this. We can’t wait two weeks. Who knows where they’ll take the hammer.”

  Cleathelm shrugged as they made their way past a massive, twenty-foot tall statue of a dwarf with a set of chain armor and an axe with a huge notch in the blade, “That was your great, great, great, great, grand-uncle,” said the Sixth Councilor pausing for a moment in front of the statue. “Tor Firefist. He slew the great orc under the mountain. If he knew a foreigner had one of the relics of Craggen Steep he would come back from the dead and take my head.”

  “So he was Aunt Aama’s father?” said Cleathelm as he counted on his fingers.

  The councilor turned to the young fighter and shook his head, “You’re too stupid to help me here.”

  “Where can I help then?”

  “You can dig a tunnel to the center of the world for all I care …,” he started to say and then suddenly paused.

  “What?”

  “When you became apprentice to the First Edos you had to resign your commission on the High Council Guard, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, father,” said Cleathelm.

  “And you’ve had six months to fill out the forms to get back into the regular army. You haven’t done it yet, have you?”

  Cleathelm shook his head, “I’ve been meaning to do that ….”

  “Don’t lie to your father. You just forgot. But that means you can leave Craggen Steep without forgoing your military obligation.”

  “I guess,” said Cleathelm and scratched his head.

  “Those deadbeat friends of yours, the goblin, the others, they aren’t part of the military either, are they?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Cleathelm with another scratch of his head. “Why?”

  The councilor looked at the young dwarf and simply shook his head. “Get your gear together, collect your friends; you’re going after Delius yourself. I’ll send reinforcements as soon as I can get the Council to vote. Bring that hammer back.”

  “Where am I going?” said the lad, his eyeb
rows raised and his eyes back darting and forth.

  The councilor sighed, “I’ll write it down. Just pack your things and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Not far away along another hallway Borrombus was similarly in deep discussion with his nephew Uldex. “We’ve given them a two week head start,” said the big-bellied dwarf but he wore a frown on his face and shook his head. “Don’t be a fool, Borrombus, I’m just trying to convince myself,” he said to himself after a moment.

  “What’s that?” asked Uldex. “We’ve got two weeks to figure out how to delay them further, right?”

  “No, no we don’t. Take a note of this Uldex. There are times when you want something to be true so badly that you end up convincing yourself it is true. It’s vitally important to never think that way. You must always examine the situation fully without bias and come to an reasoned conclusion. Or at least as best as possible with the available evidence.”

  Uldex nodded his head and looked at his uncle, “You make it sound easy. How do you put aside your biases, your passions?”

  “Go over the facts of the matter in a clear headed manner. Just facts. Once you’ve established the facts you can examine them with a clear head. So in this case; one: the Firefists want the hammer back. Two: they have almost unlimited funds but they are limited by political considerations. Three: my rival in council understands this is about more than the hammer; that it is about his position of power and his family’s position with Craggen Steep. Four: the hammer is no longer in Craggen Steep. Five: I want to think that I’ve won this battle, that we’ve garnered two weeks bonus time but they will do whatever they can to circumvent the council’s delay. We can’t let our hopes cloud our thinking in these matters. What will the Firefists do now that we’ve thwarted an immediate military solution? What would you do under if we were the ones who wanted to pursue Delius and his friends?”