by Tom Liberman
He looked up at her with a glare for a moment, then his eyes suddenly softened, and he lowered his head so that his chin all but rested on his chest. “I don’t know what comes over me,” he said in a quiet voice. “I get so angry now and I can’t seem to make myself stop.”
“It’s okay, Dol,” said Milli and rubbed her hand along his shoulders. “We’re under a lot of strain and we’re getting close to the end of the quest. Once we finish then things will go back to normal. We’ll go back to Craggen Steep as heroes. Maybe we’ll meet up with Corancil and his messenger friend.”
“It’s not just the stress of the quest, Milli, you can’t or don’t want to understand,” said Dol in a snappish way and then he shook his head and smiled. “See, I just started to get angry again, for nothing, for no reason at all. For some reason I want to look at everything like it’s an insult.”
Everyone sat silently for a while before Petra broke the lull, “The sooner we get to the Five Sisters the better,” she said and walked over to give Dol a pat on the back. “The question we haven’t answered is what do we do afterwards?”
“If we’re alive,” interjected Brogus with a laugh.
“If we’re dead that question won’t concern us,” said Dol with a smile.
“See,” said Milli. “Maybe you do get angry more quickly but you tell jokes and smile too. You used to be a bit of a party poop, admit it.”
Dol shrugged his shoulders and glanced down at his blackened hand, the darkness now spread partially up his wrist and onto his arm, “I suppose it’s partially the strain of the quest. Once we finish maybe things will go back to normal.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Dol,” said Milli although she glanced at his discolored hand and arm. She thought about saying something but decided against it. “Only a couple of more weeks at the most. There’s nothing to stop us now.”
“But what about after?” repeated Petra looking over at the two dwarves and the halfling girl. “Milli, you say we head back to Craggen Steep but without the portals that could take years and years. We have plenty of gold to stay here in the south and settle.”
“There’s nothing much for us back at Craggen Steep,” said Brogus with a shrug. “I’m with Petra.”
Milli shook her head, “It would be different once we defeat Gazadum. We’d be heroes and things might change with Corancil and the invasion. The High Council might agree to allow dwarves to take part in the invasion. It would be a whole new world.”
“We’d be heroes here as well,” said Dol looking up with a light in his eyes. “With the hammer, people would follow me and with the northern invasion they’d need a leader.”
“What are you saying, Dol?” said Milli turning towards her companion. “What do you know about being a leader, a general of armies?”
Dol shrugged, “You have to start somewhere and people will follow me. Once I slay Gazadum I’ll be able to stake a claim. Why go back to Craggen Steep? Why join Corancil? We could create our own kingdom here in the south.”
Petra shrugged her shoulders, “He might be right, Milli. The north is years away for us.”
“But we promised to report back to the messenger,” said Milli with her hands on her hips. “A promise is a promise.”
“Isn’t an Apprenticeship Contract a promise,” said Brogus with a wan little smile. “We broke that, didn’t we?”
“That’s different,” said Milli but offered no explanation as to why.
“My mind is settled,” said Dol with a faraway look in his eyes. “You can do as you will. As I’ve said before it might be best to let me go on alone. It’s dangerous and if I succeed then we all benefit. If I die then you can continue on.”
“No, Dol,” said Milli defiantly putting her hands on her hips and turning to face him directly. “We’re together to the end, not matter what. We can talk about all this after we get to the Five Sisters or whatever they’re called.”
Back at the Feathered Serpent Cleathelm and Blaggard approached the desk only a few minutes after Dol and his friends left in a huff. The woman behind the counter spotted the dwarf with the strange look to him and immediately shook her head, “Don’t tell me, you’re looking for Five Volcanoes?”
Braggard stopped suddenly, his mouth opened wide, and Cleathelm looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face, “What do you mean?”
“Shut up,” said Blaggard and poked him in the side.
“Don’t poke me, miserable cur,” said Cleathelm and backhanded him across the jaw with a quick motion that sent the half-breed goblin reeling across the room where he stared at Cleathelm with lowered eyes and a grimace.
The woman behind the counter raised her eyebrows but remained silent.
“We need a room,” said Cleathelm and pulled out his purse and tossed a couple of large gold coins onto the counter.
The woman’s eyes opened wide as she stared at the coins before she regained her composure, “Let me put that on the scale,” she said and put the coins onto the little scale that remained on the counter from the previous guests. The scale immediately plummeted to the bottom of the counter with a thunk. “Is this real gold?”
“What other kind is there,” said Cleathelm with a sneer at the woman. “Haven’t seen the like before down here, eh?” He turned to Blaggard who still gazed at the dwarf with a snarl on his face. “Heathens and barbarians in the south. They don’t even know what real gold looks like.”
She shrugged her shoulders, took the coin in her mouth, bit down on it hard, and then looked at the slight indentation her teeth made in the surface. “It looks good enough. Those two should be enough to stay for tonight along with meals and any laundry needs. It’ll be extra for a bath,” she said wrinkling her nose at the smell emanating from the two visitors. “You’ve been on the trail for a while?”
“What business is it of yours?” said Cleathelm in a snarling tone of voice. “You have your gold, now show us our room.”
The woman nodded her head and pocketed the two large gold coins as she walked around the counter towards the stairwell leading up to the rooms, “I’m sorry about that, it was rather rude of me, please come along this way and I’ll take you to your rooms. Shall I call you when the baths are ready?”
The trio headed up the stairs and arrived at the room shortly thereafter. Cleathelm went in without a look back but the little half-goblin patted his jerkin for a moment, “Shoot, I forgot something. I’ve got to get my pack.”
“Whatever,” said Cleathelm and slumped down on the bed.
As Blaggard walked downstairs with the woman he waited until they were well away from the room, “We don’t even have packs, that idiot,” he said with a laugh and the woman gave him a quizzical look.
“He’s kind of an ass, isn’t he?” she said her hand drifting to her pocket where the two heavy coins rested.
“Kind of?” replied Blaggard.
“Mostly then,” said the woman.
“Completely,” replied Blaggard with a chuckle. “I’ll give him what he deserves one of these days soon.”
The woman smiled while nodding her head. “None of my business but if you dislike him so, why do you travel with him.”
“You saw his purse,” said Blaggard with a little tilt of his head.
“The Feathered Serpent is a reputable inn,” said the woman as she stopped short and looked at Blaggard through narrowed eyes. “I’ll have no murder in my rooms.”
“Nothing will happen to him as long as we stay here; you have my word,” said Blaggard. “But, you mentioned the five volcanoes without any prompting from us. Was there someone asking about them before we got here?”
“Yes, the Five Sisters is what they’re called around here,” said the woman with a shrug. “You’re the third group of strangers to come through today and all of them with dwarves that didn’t look like they were from around here. The first two groups asked about the volcanoes so I figured you must be interested as well.”
“Three groups, really?
” said Blaggard. “One of them was a pretty halfling girl with two dwarves but who was the second?”
“A pretty little halfing and a dwarf, yes,” said the woman as they reached the downstairs portion of the inn and walked back to the long counter in front. “The third was something strange and there was an old woman with them.”
“Something strange?” asked Blaggard.
“He had bunches of little red apples in his hair and beard,” said the woman. “It was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s him,” said Blaggard. “Bunches you say?”
“Oh yes,” replied the woman.
“And colored red, not green?” asked Blaggard.
The woman nodded her head as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Interesting,” said Blaggard with a slight frown, “And when did they come through?”
“Just a few minutes before you arrived,” said the woman as she glanced at the front door. “The apple-haired fellow got angry with me when I mentioned his … condition.”
“He got mad at you?” said Blaggard.
“Furious,” said the woman trembling with the memory of it.
“The one with the apples, not the shorter one with no apples?” said Blaggard scrunching up his face and touching his lower lip with his middle finger.
“I’d remember,” said the woman. “The one with apples and the look in his eyes was like fire. I was afraid he’d take a hand to me right then and there.”
“That’s quite interesting,” said Blaggard and tapped on his chin. “Did you notice his weapon?”
“The hammer,” said the woman. “Hard to miss it but I didn’t say anything about it. He was angry enough as it was before they left.”
“I’ve known Dol for years and he was always a calm, placid sort. Even in a scrap he wouldn’t scream or yell, just go about the business of beating you black and blue.”
“The others seemed a little startled by his behavior now that you mention it,” said the woman with a shrug. “I can see how he would get tired of people making fun of those apples. There were so many of them and quite red and ripe were some of them.”
“Red, your absolutely sure?” said Blaggard. “Not green and small?”
“No, not big like cider apples or anything but mostly red with a tint of green,” she replied.
Blaggard stood with his hands on his hips and said nothing for long enough that the woman felt compelled to speak, “Was there anything else?”
“What … no, wait, yes, the other group. Can you describe them, did they stay here?”
“They’re here,” said the woman. “Just upstairs down the hall from your room, but there are only two of them, one a rough looking fellow with a long scar down the right side of his face and a smaller dwarf as well,” said the woman. “Now, is there anything else?”
Blaggard’s eyes widened and he couldn’t help but make a startled intake of breath, “Uldex. Uldex here. He must have followed us somehow.”
“I didn’t get his name,” said the woman.
“Now, as to you and me. I know how much that gold Cleathelm gave you is worth down here,” said Blaggard with a little grin as he turned to face the woman. “I’ll get whatever I want as long as I’m here and we don’t have to let Cleathelm know a thing about it, right?”
The woman nodded, “That’s fair, what is it you’ll be wanting?”
“A bath, and girls, do you have goblins down here? Saucy girls with a bit of attitude?”
“Something can be arranged I’m certain. I’ll send the boy when your bath is drawn,” said the woman with a nod of her head.
Blaggard smiled and nodded his head, “Which room did you give to the dwarf with the scar?”
“Thirteen,” said the woman and began to busy herself behind the desk.
Blaggard quickly mounted the staircase and looked at the first door on the right only to see a strange unrecognizable squiggle on the door, “Well, damn,” he said. “How did she understand us if we don’t speak the language?” He walked down the hallway to the room and stopped in mid-stride trying to remember which one was his own. It was on the right, but how many doors down from where the stairwell came up? “Damn,” he said just as a young boy wearing a light colored jerkin with the picture of a feathered serpent on the breast came running up and down the corridor to a door just ahead of Blaggard. The boy knocked on the door and shouted out something in an unintelligible language.
A couple of seconds later Uldex’s head popped around the corner and Blaggard dodged backwards and towards the stairs with a quick motion. The dwarf glanced in that direction but then turned to the boy, “What was that?”
The boy replied in the same barbarian language and Uldex stared at him and wrinkled his nose. “I suppose it’s the bath. Come along, Carus,” he said with a look over his shoulder. “It’s time for our baths. You’ll want to clean yourself if they manage to find girls.”
Meanwhile, Blaggard listened to the one-sided conversation from around the corner and dashed into a small alcove a few seconds later when Uldex and Carus walked past. After waiting an appropriate length of time to make sure they didn’t double back he went back to where he thought his room was located, and after knocking on one wrong door managed to find a half-naked Cleathelm standing in front of a long mirror and admiring himself in it.
“Did you find whatever it was you lost?” said the dwarf as he turned to the left and right and examined his beard. “My beard is a mess. I’ll need half a dozen maids to get it all straightened out and I can’t imagine where I’ll find anyone with skill in braiding in this heathen land.”
Blaggard’s eyes drifted towards where Cleathelm had piled his clothes but he couldn’t make out the heavy bulge of the gold and gem filled purse and so turned back to the dwarf, “It’s no matter. You won’t be making an appearance before the High Council any time soon. After we kill Dol and his friends and take the Hammer of Fire it will take us years to get back to Craggen Steep.”
“It only took a few days from the portal to here,” said Clethelm rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the goblin, “so why should it take longer to get back, idiot?”
“Do you know how to use the portals without help from Corancil’s mages?” said Blaggard almost shaking his head in disbelief at the stupidity of his companion.
Silence greeted this proclamation, “That’s true,” said the dwarf after a prolonged pause. “That means I’ll have the Hammer of Fire for my own use for years,” he mused aloud. “I can make a name for myself so that when we do return to Craggen Steep they’ll have to appoint me to the High Council. If you continue to show me loyalty then I’ll consider taking you along with me as my chamber boy. What do you say to that my, little friend?”
“I would be honored,” said Blaggard just as a knock came at the door and a young boy’s voice shouted through in an unknown language. “That’ll be our bath,” went on the half-breed and began to strip off his travel worn clothes.
“You understand the lingo?” said Cleathelm and wandered over to the door to open it.
“What else could it be?” said Blaggard.
“How am I to know?” said Cleathelm, but the boy at the door blathered out something and distracted the dwarf. Blaggard finished stripping off his own clothes leaving only a pair of tattered shorts that barely covered his private parts. Seconds later the half-goblin walked out the door and followed the boy down the hall leaving Cleathelm standing at the door.
“Are you coming, Cleathelm, or do you want to sit in your own filth for a while yet,” said Blaggard with a glance over his shoulder.
Within a minute the two were led into a basement room filled with thick steam as several boys busied themselves pouring buckets of hot water into large tubs. The atmosphere was thick enough that it proved impossible to make out details about the other forms who rested up to their necks in heavy wood tubs filled with bubble and water.
Blaggard said nothing, although he narrowed his eyes and
tried to penetrate the haze, but Cleathelm immediately sang out as he entered the water, “Ahh, now then Blaggard, not as good as back home but not all that bad either.”
The half-goblin, listening closely, heard an astonished gasp from one of the other tubs and immediately replied, “No, Cleathelm, not as good as home but not bad for a bunch of heathens.”
Chapter 21
The fifty-foot polished granite arches of the great Gate of Faferdum rose high above Borrombus and the half-dozen stern-faced young dwarfs around him. His immensely fat stomach, his long beard with its gem-encrusted bands, and his dark red tunic all worked to make him stand out as a noble in the little gathering, but the way the other dwarves leaned in to catch his every word made it even more readily apparent. The archway was decorated with etchings of airy creatures flitting back and forth, some with bolts of lightning streaming from clenched fists and others in more peaceful poses.
“We must proceed as if the hammer is lost,” said one of the young dwarves who wore an emerald jerkin with five silver bars on each sleeve. He pounded his right fist into his left palm and spoke in a low but clear voice, “Your nephew has failed and the Firefists are moving against us. They know about our meetings with Corancil. We must strike now before it is too late.”
Borrombus shook his head, “No.”
“We must,” repeated the young lad. “We’ll be rounded up and executed as traitors. They’ll claim we gave away the secret location of Craggen Steep. We’ll be killed in the old way. Iron bars.”
The other young dwarves looked back and forth between one another but other than a few murmurs said nothing.
“Did you hear me Elder Borrombus?” said the talkative young dwarf and took a step closer to the leader of the group.
Borrombus nodded his massive head and his treble-chin wobbled accordingly, “I heard, young master. Do you propose we strike directly? Our warriors against the Golden Pikemen of the High Council? Against the Elite Guard? Those soldiers will remain loyal to the regime if we strike now, you do realize as much?”
