The Naming

by Torsten Weitze

  Ahren ignored Culhen. The wolf saw the rationing of their food as a personal affront and so he approached everyone in the group, whining and yelping piteously until Jelninolan finally gave in and fed him a little portion of her meat.

  Falk gave her a reproachful look, but she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

  ‘The dwarf cuisine does nothing for me anyway. The mushrooms and cheese are more than enough to keep me going, and if I have to starve down here for another two weeks, I might be able to fit into my old armour again.’ The priestess said this with a twinkle in her eye but everyone else in the group had the good sense not to make a comment in response.

  Communication had generally abated during the days of their descent. They only spoke when necessary and often the only sounds to be heard echoing through the darkness were their steps and the voices of Ahren and Khara as they carried on with her language classes.

  Every now and again they would come to a crossing, and it was at one such crossing that Falk suddenly stopped with a feeling of unease.

  ‘We really should be finding our dwarf by now. These tunnels are certainly not natural, but neither do they look to me like dwarf work. We’ve been out of the Silver Cliff mines for over a day now’, said Falk.

  Then he turned to Jelninolan.

  ‘Are you sure we haven’t missed him somehow?’

  The elf thought for a long time before answering - too long for Ahren’s taste. When she finally spoke, however, her voice was full of confidence.

  ‘Hardly anything lives down here, which makes it easier to sense anything nearby. So far we’ve passed by two Gorge Spiders, but they didn’t notice us, so I just ignored them’, she said calmly.

  Falk nodded, satisfied, but wasn’t finished yet.

  ‘Could you cast a Charm Net to find my dwarf friend, Uldini?’

  The little figure swayed his head left and right and then looked at the elf.

  ‘I’ve most practice in sensing out magic or Dark Ones. Maybe I could improvise something with Jelninolan’s help that specifically searches for dwarves’.

  The priestess looked very doubtful, but then she went down on her haunches and the two began to draw complicated drawings on the ground which glimmered dimly in the faint greenish-blue light.

  Khara became uneasy.

  ‘It makes me nervous when they do things like that’, she confessed quietly. Ahren had picked up a few words of the Empire language and he and Khara were using a colourful combination of the two languages at the moment.

  ‘You mean the magic?’ responded Ahren uncertainly. The word for magic in her language was similar to that for ‘prohibition’ and he wasn’t sure if he had pronounced it correctly.

  Khara had understood him and nodded. Ahren then distracted her by saying ‘magic’ in the Northern language and made her repeat it until she had internalised the word.

  ‘I was very nervous about it at the start too’, he explained in a confidential tone. ‘But up until now, it’s only helped us. Remember how Jelninolan healed your wounds. Have a little faith’.

  It took a few heartbeats for Khara to understand his words, and she instinctively hugged herself with her arms. She stood in that position for a while and was the picture of fragility.

  ‘Thank you from stopping me from running away that time. Without you, the magic would have misfired. I only understood that later when Mistress Jelninolan explained it to me’, she said, almost inaudibly.

  Ahren didn’t know what to say. He was embarrassed, and it still irritated him that Khara only described Jelninolan as her mistress. Of course he had a master, but somehow this was different. A master trained you, a mistress gave your orders. The priestess had explained her attitude by saying that the ex-slave needed some sort of structure so that she could gradually get used to having a free life. But the young man found it hard to see the justification in the adjustment phase the girl was going through.

  Before they could continue their conversation there was a sudden flash and a bluish-green streak of light ran along the walls. Blinded, Ahren and Jelninolan were jolted by the shock. Then they heard Uldini’s voice behind them.

  ‘Careful. It could get bright’, he said, a little embarrassed.

  Flecks of light danced before Ahren’s eyes and he heard Culhen’s distraught whining, and his master cursing indignantly.

  ‘You could have warned us, you little upstart’, he grumbled irritably.

  Ahren knew that his master’s description of Uldini always infuriated the Arch Wizard, and while his eyes returned to normal, a foulmouthed argument echoed down the tunnel walls as the two ageless friends went for each other, hell for leather. Ahren used the time to calm down his panicked wolf, who had been totally thrown by the sudden flash of light.

  Finally, Jelninolan intervened.

  ‘It’s nice to see that some things haven’t changed after eight hundred years. Have the gentlemen finished and would they like to hear what has transpired out of the magic or do you want to keep bleating like two old billy goats and, by the way, attract the Gorge Spiders to us.’

  The two brawlers were silenced by the reprimand and looked over anxiously at the priestess. She waited a moment to make sure she had the undivided attention of the group, then pointed to the right.

  ‘A good hundred paces in this direction there is a little nest of Gorge Spiders. Seven or eight fully-grown animals, all of them in satiated sleep. If we don’t wake them, they won’t present us with any problems. But we should definitely warn the dwarves on our return.’

  Ahren felt shivers run down his body. At the beginning of their journey through the tunnel, Falk, at Ahren’s request, had told him what could be lying in wait down here, and the spiders, two paces in length and capable of folding in their bodies, had given him nightmares. The creatures would wait for their prey, sleeping in tiny fissures in the rock, and when the unsuspecting victims walked past, the spiders would pounce on them from behind, which made them even more malevolent. Falk had explained that the Gorge Spiders were nature animals and not creatures touched by the Adversary. They were hunters of the highest order and not to be underestimated in these confines.

  Just as Ahren was trying to shake off the image of his body suddenly being embraced from behind by a multitude of long, hairy legs, the next words of the elf, who was now pointing to the left, brought welcome relief.

  ‘I can sense in this direction, about five furlongs away, a single dwarf. It must be Falk’s friend, because his vital strength is the equivalent to that of ten oxen.’

  There was a tone of grudging respect in the elf’s voice, and she finished her charm by wiping away the symbols on the ground.

  The prospect of meeting the ominous dwarf and of hearing about his task, which would now be theirs too, caused them to pick up speed as they walked.

  After a while, Jelninolan announced that she could sense his vital strength even without the Charm Net, and she positioned herself at the head of the group and led them forward, using the increasing number of crossings that they met to bring them closer to their goal.

  Finally, through the darkness they saw a faint red light in the distance, and they walked towards it. They quickly approached it and then Uldini’s crystal ball revealed a motionless figure, standing with its back to them in the middle of the tunnel. A little beyond and on the ground was a tiny bowl of Deep Fire.

  As they got closer, the solitary silhouette spun around and raised a massive hammer in a threatening manner.

  Ahren could see in the magical light a dwarf with stone-coloured hair and the typical plaited beard of the little folk. Similarly coloured grey eyes peered out from under bushy eyebrows and examined them with a piercing and searching look. A barrel-shaped chest with massive arms and legs gave the body an even stockier and broader build than the other dwarves that Ahren had seen, so the impression was one of looking at an almost square shape.

  The figure lowered its weapon and stepped forward, a look of curiosity on its face. The apprentice
now saw that the dwarf’s grey beard was forked and ran over both shoulders towards the back. The dwarf dropped his hammer, and laughter lines were now visible around his eyes as he walked surprisingly nimbly towards Falk. At which point Ahren could see that the two lengths of beard were plaited into a complicated thick knot, which then fell thickly down his muscular back.

  ‘Dorian, you old waster’, he called out merrily as he lifted up the heavily armoured Paladin and spun around with him, as if he were spinning a child.

  ‘What brings you to this godforsaken place? Did you miss me that much, or have the fumes from the fire gone to my head and I’m just imagining your withered self?’ The dwarf’s voice was so full of life and joy that Ahren couldn’t help smiling.

  Falk’s reaction was the same. He grinned broadly and slapped his hands on his friend’s shoulders.

  ‘Gods, it’s great to see you again, old friend. We were just in the area and we thought we might as well help a useless excuse for a dwarf get his Ancestry Name’, called out the old man exuberantly.

  The dwarf spun around on his own axis again and then placed Falk back on the ground.

  ‘Have you heard of it? Stupid question, of course you have, or you wouldn’t be here. Did old Fulretedurkolok really give you directions?’

  ‘I told him your story, also the bit about the twin sisters in Stubbornnag. He’d no choice but to accept I was your friend’, said the Forest Guardian with a twinkle in his eyes.

  The squat figure released him and placed his hands on his heart in mock sorrow.

  ‘Dammit, old man, you shouldn’t have done that. Now I can never look the good dwarf in the eye again.’

  Then he laughed again, coarse, rough and full-throated.

  ‘I’ve been standing here for five summers and the first bit of company that’s offered to me is your ugly face? The gods really do have a strange sense of humour.’

  He examined Falk in all his armour and looked at the rest of the group.

  ‘You all look like the beginning of a rude joke. A young man, an elf, a girl and a weakling go into a tavern…’ He stopped himself and laughed coarsely again.

  Ahren couldn’t help but like the dwarf. He was like an avalanche that you could try resisting but that would pull you along anyway. The choice was simple: you could fight against the force of nature or enjoy the ride down into the valley.

  Khara seemed to react the same way and Jelninolan smiled politely. Only Uldini looked distinctly miffed. The fact that the dwarf had referred to him as a weakling made a disagreeable first impression on him.

  Falk turned around and pointed to the group.

  ‘I’ll introduce the others to you first. The elf is Jelninolan, priestess of HER, WHO FEELS and one of the Ancients. This is Khara a one-time slave who freed herself of her own accord. The young man with the silly smile is Ahren, who I had the misfortune of taking on as my apprentice, and at the back is Uldini Getobo, another one of the Ancients, even though he looks very young.’

  Falk lowered his voice conspiratorially, but everyone could still hear him as he said, ‘he’s three times as old as you are, and age is making him crankier all the time, so behave yourself.’

  The dwarf stomped over to the ladies and embraced them both simultaneously in a bear hug, sighing exaggeratedly. Khara couldn’t suppress a giggle and Jelninolan looked irritated. Then he planted himself before Uldini and for a few heartbeats they eyed each other critically.

  ‘You’re the magic trickster who rescued the third company under the command of General Vankulorunar from the Blikton Gorge? The one who blew up the mountain?’ asked the dwarf briskly.

  Uldini gave him a hostile look but nodded.

  ‘I only lit the gasses that were contained within it, nature took care of the rest. But yes, that was me.’

  Ahren was astounded. He had ridden by the shattered mountain when they had travelled along by the Red Posts, but the Arch Wizard hadn’t said a word about having been responsible for its destruction.

  ‘Then let me say, better friend than foe.’

  He held out a knotty paw to the wizard, who grasped it after a moment’s hesitation. The dwarf looked down at the Arch Wizard, who was a head smaller and not even half as broad, and they shook hands. Ahren was certain that he heard a slight crunching sound in the process. Finally, the dwarf turned towards the apprentice while Uldini hid his right hand in his left and grimaced with pain.

  The squat figure looked him up and down, and Ahren did the same. The dwarf was wearing chainmail that had plenty of holes and patches. Shabby leather boots, also with holes, peeped out under ragged linen trousers. The dwarf’s clothing emitted a strange, biting smell. Before he knew what was happening, Ahren was lifted up by the shoulders and shaken vigorously. The dwarf easily held him a pace up in the air and studied him from both sides like a farmer would his breeding pig. Then he looked over at Falk, without putting Ahren down.

  ‘There’s really not much to him. How long has he been your apprentice?’ he asked humorously.

  ‘Too long’, responded Falk in the same tone. ‘But you should have seen him beforehand. He’s developed well all things considered. And anyway, I’m not a magician.’

  The two friends laughed again, and the dwarf unexpectedly let Ahren go, causing him to flop unceremoniously onto the ground. The nameless dwarf good-naturedly handed him his paw-like hand and pulled him with a swing into a standing position.

  ‘You’re lucky, son. As an apprentice, you are under Dorian’s protection, and therefore also under mine. You can hide behind my back whenever you want.’ And he twinkled good-naturedly at Ahren, who smiled uneasily, determined to bear the mocking tone with stoicism.

  ‘And who are you, my big friend?’ asked the squat figure with a lot of warmth in his mouth, as Culhen sniffed the warrior’s chunky leg and sneezed on account of its sharp smell.

  ‘This is Culhen, and he’s saved our skins on more than one occasion’, said Ahren proudly.

  The nameless dwarf grasped Culhen’s fur with both hands, left and right, directly under his ears and rubbed his head against the wolf’s. Animal and dwarf purred contentedly and after a few heartbeats, the warrior let him go again. He then pulled his hammer up into the air and called out in a rousing voice, ‘now that we all know each other, who fancies killing an Ore Worm’.

  Chapter 18

  33 days to the winter solstice

  ‘You’re joking! An Ore Worm? Those creatures were eradicated during the Dark Days. The early wizards helped the dwarves in that regard if I remember my history lessons correctly’, said Uldini emphatically. He looked over to Jelninolan for support.

  The elf gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

  ‘I was a child then. And in those days we elves had even less truck with the dwarves than now. I heard the creature’s name mentioned once, but that’s all.’

  ‘The fact is that one of them lives down here. And he’s a pretty tough nut to crack.’

  The dwarf shrugged his shoulders stoically.

  ‘He should be here again shortly if my sense of time isn’t mistaken. Then you can see for yourselves.’

  Everyone, with the exception of the miniature warrior, looked around nervously, and then the dwarf gave a hearty laugh and pointed in the direction he had been staring at previously.

  ‘Why do you think I’ve been standing around in the middle of this tunnel? The worm comes here every day and we do a little dance and then he disappears again to feed on a vein of copper. He doesn’t grow any bigger with it, but it keeps him alive. We’ve been playing this little game for the last five years.’

  He looked at himself with a look of disgust.

  ‘Had I known that from the start, I wouldn’t have worn my best chainmail.’

  Suddenly a dull vibration filled the tunnel, and immediately Ahren thought it was an earthquake. Panic came over him. Uldini and Jelninolan instinctively created a defensive dome of glimmering energy which surrounded the group, but the dwarf simply shouldered
his weapon and grinned good-naturedly.

  ‘Nothing to worry about, it’s just our daily visitor. Stand there and I’ll deal with him. Then you can decide for yourselves if it’s an Ore Worm or not. If you know a magic spell that will kill him, then feel free to use it.’

  He walked contentedly a few steps into the tunnel and then glanced over his shoulder at Uldini.

  ‘But I’d be grateful for a little light. The skinflints only gave me this bit over here, and it would be nice not to fight in semi-darkness for a change.’

  The dwarf’s jovial manner was grotesque in view of the vibrations which were shaking the tunnel and growing more powerful by the heartbeat, signalling the approaching danger. Suddenly a shimmering metallic mass without any recognisable face heaved itself into view and Ahren screamed at the top of his voice. It seemed as though the very mountain had come to life and was about to swallow them all. The creature propelled itself forward with jerky movements and the apprentice could see a surface, gleaming dimly and seemingly made up of tiny scales, coming inexorably closer. The creature’s movements were strangely fitful – two paces forward and one back – and Ahren could see under the worm’s metallic skin, massive rings of muscle that would contract, only then to expand a moment later, pushing the creature forwards.

  The nameless dwarf took a run-up of four paces and smashed his weapon against the very tip of this domed creature. To his horror, Ahren saw how its tip divided itself into four equally sized quarters, and a shimmering ring of ever turning, jagged teeth was revealed, each tooth as big as Ahren’s foot. The inside of the creature seemed to be made of the same material as the outer armour. Ahren saw a pulsating throb race through its body as it contracted and then expanded, moving forward another two paces.