The Obsidian Axe: Prelude to the Prophecy

by Patrick Sattler

  The three made it to the wagon without confrontation. Draegos threw his backpack inside the wagon and then took a spot on the bench beside Glorýa, to her left. Greffel hopped on and sat beside Glorýa, to her right, after attaching the horses. They sat there in the quiet early morning hours and watched as the sun peaked over the Lonely Mountain, then Glorýa gave a yip, and the horses began to move.

  "Where to, dwarf?" she asked as the town burned behind them.

  "Dor'Éssyn."

  She nodded her head and pulled the reins to the horses to direct them to take the southwestern trail. All around them, the pine trees held their winter clothing of snow. The carriage road was relatively free of obstructions, and the horses easily pulled the three of them along it. The air was crisp as the sun slowly made its way up the skyline, and soon enough it was midday. The group searched for a spot to pull over to go inside and pause a moment to eat.

  "Glorýa, up ahead, to the left, an area we can pull into and be hidden from view," Greffel said to his sister.

  The wagon took the side exit and followed it around a bend, stopped, and the travelers climbed down off the bench. Greffel and Glorýa covered the horses and grabbed their feed bags. Draegos climbed up the ladder on the back and sat on the wagon, keeping watch. He noted the mares and how well trained they were, and how soundly built the wagon was. He moved his hand along the smooth wood grain and noticed that it has been constructed entirely out of iron oak.

  Once the two completed, all three headed inside the wagon to get away from the elements. Draegos noticed the small bed, a cabinet to hold items, and a small coal stove. He moved his pack from in front of the bed and placed it in the rear, next to the gnomes' packs. He removed his cloak and laid it on top of his bag, then sat down on the edge of the bed.

  Greffel stacked a few coal chunks into the stove, then pulled a metal bucket out that was filled with kindling and placed some of it around and under the coals. By using flint and a dagger, the gnome was able to get a small fire going; the warmth filled the wagon quickly. Glorýa was busy preparing some food to throw into a pot for stew, and Draegos decided to pull out his wineskin filled with mead. He poured drinks and passed them around to everyone.

  They each raised their mugs, nodded, and silently took their first swig. In unison they put down their cups on the table, looked at each other in silence, and then sat in the small wagon, listening to the wind begin to howl outside. The structure shook with each gust of frigid air that pushed against it, seeking to gain entrance into the warm space, but the small shelter held its own. The coals had heated the wagon up so well they could now remove their cloaks and heavy Jerkins, and they could finally rest.

  Greffel was the first to fall fast asleep, as Draegos sat and thought about their next steps. They would have to go through the Ice Tunnels to get to the Citadel of Ice, and that meant finding their way through the maze. Glorýa sat across from him, looking at him with a perplexed look, and finally, she leaned over and quietly asked, "What do you think is happening?"

  His eyes locked on the coal stove and his voice was deep and slow as he responded, "The dwarfs have an old tale. It speaks of the End Days and involves many players, but what it boils down to is this: In the days of creation, the Mother took us under her arms and protected us from the darkness. She gave us food, shelter, and taught us to survive when the world was nothing but ice. When she had taught us all that she could, she opened up the world to light. The ice melted and the beautiful world we now live came to be. But she left us with a warning: Do not take for granted this world, for if ego replaces kindness, then the darkness will rise from within and consume all of the world."

  Glorýa sat there silent, contemplating the tale with her knowledge, and then she asked, "Do you really think the darkness has come?"

  "I saw it with my own eyes, Glorýa. The darkness rose up in fire and brimstone, consuming our citadel, and in the end, all that was left was darkness. My home is gone, destroyed by some beast from UnderRealm. How am I supposed to interpret that?"

  She thought about his response, in particular to his profession as a Mystic, and then ran through the tales she had learned as a child. The magi in her town had told her many stories of End Times from many different races, but none spoke of the dwarven tales. She reached up into a holding space and pulled down a book wrapped in fine cloth. Gingerly she unwrapped the ancient volume and opened it very carefully.

  Draegos's mouth slightly dropped as he realized what Glorýa was. He leaned in closer to see the glowing pages of her Book of Insight but saw he could not read the words written within. She giggled and then explained, "’Tis a magical volume, dwarf, only I can read the writing on these pages, sort of ‘my eyes only.’"

  "A Magus, huh?" Draegos inquired as he sat back. He was thirsty, so he poured himself another mug of mead and then offered one to Glorýa, who agreed. She was fascinating to him: magical, knowledgeable in the arts, and she fought well.

  The gods have helped you much, yes? The spirit asked him.

  Is it the will of the gods to see us succeed? Draegos thought.

  It is the gods’ will to see their creations solve their dilemmas. It is why they gave all creatures free will.

  What good is free will if others force theirs upon the innocent?

  I cannot answer that.

  It was rhetorical. I no longer question my ability, spirit, but I fear I must respond with a cautionary exclamation . . . I no longer wish to be the passive voice I have been.

  Then what do you plan on doing, dwarf?

  I am not sure just yet, but it starts with finding out how far the darkness has reached.

  "Good conversation?" Glorýa asked the dwarf.

  "Will you help me, Glorýa?" His eye held such sadness and pain, but deep within it there sparked a fire; she was overwhelmed by the rush of emotion from him. She gently touched the right side of his head, near his dead eye.

  "I will, and so will Greffel. I need to study my magic before I rest. I will need silence."

  "Okay. I need to do some meditation as well. I will not awake before I fall asleep, so peace be with your dreams," Draegos said as he closed his eye and stepped into his mental temple. It was an earthy structure: adobe bricks, tiled flooring, and no roof. The stars shone down on him in his spiritual surroundings. The two moons rotated above him as they slowly circled into one right above him. Their light became a beam of energy, and he absorbed as much as he could handle, rejuvenating his soul and mind.

  He awoke to the sound of Greffel moving around. He turned to look, and the gnome had brought out a shovel to dig out the snow. As the dwarf stood to dress in his gear, the gnome left for the exterior of the wagon. Glorýa still slept, and Draegos decided to not let her rest. He stepped outside to help Greffel. The sun was in its mid-morning spot smiling down upon the trio as the two men checked on the horses and wagon.

  Draegos helped Greffel attach the horses to the yoke neck, and lined the reins up to the bench. Their long coats were thick, like the mammoths of the Valley of Beasts to the east of the Citadel of Wisdom, and warm even on the coldest of nights. He admired the beasts of burden and softly stroked their sides as he spoke arcane words, "Án'cwuyl'ná'veus.”[11] Their ears perked up, and their eyes seemed to focus.

  He turned to see Greffel watching him, "What did you do to the horses?"

  "Gave them a little pick-up-and-go," Draegos replied and then helped Greffel close up the boxes they kept the reins in on the side of the wagon. Greffel smirked and then chuckled.

  "I'll get a fire pit going, and we'll wait for Glorýa to rise," Greffel said, and then he went about digging a hole and collecting some wood from under the tall Iron Pine trees.

  "I'll go find us some fresh meat," Draegos informed the gnome.

  "Where are you going to find fresh meat in this snow?" Greffel asked while piling up kindling.

  "The gods are kind. They will show me where to look," Draegos explained, then he headed away from the wagon into the woods. He had
walked for several minutes before he found a clearing that he could sit in.

  He sat down cross-legged, and held his hands out, palms up and closed his eye. He sent out his senses and whispered the soothing words of peace, "Án'nythru,”[12] over and over, growing quieter as he repeated the phrase. The wind blew, his body moved like the trees, and his sense of being transcended. He could feel the energy the trees produced, the rolling calmness of the earth below him, and the chaotic swirling of the stars and moons above. He was one with the universe.

  The scent was first caught by his nose, and then followed up by his aura. To his right, a group of hares had come out to forage for food. He slowly brought his left hand down to the dagger on his belt, grabbed the handle and pulled it out. Then, in a quick movement, he threw the knife. It found its mark and the hare lay there unable to move its hindquarters to flee.

  "Thank you for your sacrifice for us. Thank you for your sustenance to prolong our existence. Thank you for your courage." He snapped the hare's neck quickly and painlessly. He cried a tear of sadness at the life he had to take, but he knew the alternative would be his undoing. He gutted, skinned, and prepared the hare for consumption and use right there, leaving the entrails for other wild beasts. He stood up and held the meat and skin in his hands as he walked back to the wagon.

  By the time Draegos made it back to the wagon, Glorýa was up and helping Greffel with the rest of his duties. They looked up at his return and offered greetings. He replied in kind, and then sat at the fire making a wooden spicate for cooking the meat on. He tossed the fur and bones to Greffel and asked, "Can you use those?"

  The gnome looked at the items and replied with a yes, then placed the bones into the wagon while tying the skin to the side, for later use. All three sat down and ate of the cooked meat before getting up onto the wagon and heading out. It would be a two-and-a-half-week journey along this route until they made it to the Ice Tunnels. Each day would start like this, and end in some new location, out of sight, and hunkered down.

  One of those evenings they had to hunker down early in the afternoon because of the blizzard that was bearing down on them. They located a cave, and, after checking it to be clear, set the wagon up in front of it and placed the horses inside to protect them. They then put the wagon into position to open the door into the cave and provide them with an area to walk around. They had more than enough room to have a fire pit and did so.

  After starting a fire in the pit, the dwarf sat down on the ground and brought out his wineskin to pour drinks. He lined up the mugs and filled them, passed them around, and then leaned back against a log he’d dragged in for sitting on. The three sat in silence as the winds whipped the outside area of the wagon and teased their backs in the cave. It was going to be a few days before they could leave the confines of the cave and wagon, so he was preparing the right way.

  "You two look alike. I never asked, but are you twins?" Draegos asked the two gnomes.

  "We are," Greffel explained.

  "All gnomes produce twins when birthing," Glorýa informed Draegos. He thought that was interesting and asked them for their story.

  "We come from UnderHolm. We are traders there, and we are out here trying to find new items to sell at our store. It seems we have quite the skill at picking the wrong times to go searching for such things, as we find ourselves again in turmoil," Greffel said as he drank from his mug and continued, "I trained as a Miscreant, and Glorýa is a—"

  "Magi," Draegos said.

  "Yes. Very few gnomes can cast magic, but she has always been quite adept at it," Greffel finished. Glorýa brought out some food stock, cheeses and dried meats, and sat it on a flat rock near the group so everyone could eat. Wisps of snow made their way in and melted as they hit the heat, and the group settled in for a few days as the storm raged on outside.

  As the dawn of the third day began to grow into a full day of sun, the trio of adventurers dug out the back of the wagon to push it free. Once they cleared the snow, they made a path to the carriage road and hooked up the horses. They gathered their gear, Draegos hunted for some fresh meat, and Greffel inspected the wheels. Once done, they climbed up on to the bench, and Glorýa gave a whip of the reins for the horses to once again begin the trek.

  Several weeks went by, and the actions they’d previously performed became the routine for them. They crested the Blinding Mountain and saw the gaping hole in the Dragon Tooth Mountains that marked the entrance to the Ice Tunnels. They headed down towards it. Draegos scanned the area with his eye and noted recent prints in the snow, and he pointed them out to Greffel.

  "There are footprints in the snow, and they look relatively fresh."

  Greffel jumped down and carefully stepped over some. "Goblins. Maybe a few dwarfs too. Maybe we found a war band?" Greffel asked.

  "We better keep our eyes open. Are the tunnels big enough for the wagon?" Draegos asked.

  "You are in for a treat, Draegos," Glorýa said as she dismounted the bench when they neared the tunnels. "Get your gear out boys, we got a wagon to shrink."

  "Shrink?" Draegos asked in curiosity.

  They all gathered their packs and emptied the wagon of items they would need on foot, and Glorýa stood in front of the horses and wagon. She raised her arms up, palms open to the sky, and called upon the elements, "Výl'Nymunytyre'de'boreanys!”[13] The horses turned into stone as they and the wagon began to shrink. Draegos watched in fascination. When the transformation was complete, the horses and wagon were but a few inches high and long. Glorýa picked them up and placed them into her pack for safe keeping.

  "We're walking from here on out," she said as she winked at Draegos and entered the tunnels. Greffel fell in line behind her, and Draegos followed them from the rear.

  The Ice Tunnels were large enough to let a wagon pass, but the surface of the passages would make it hard for anyone to travel unless they were wearing crampons. Each of the members of the group paused to attach their own, and Draegos brought out a stick and uttered a few words, "Dró'bwyn'nyth'ryll!”[14] The stick grew until it became a quarterstaff of iron oak with a ruby atop it. The ruby was the size of a dwarf's fist and blazed with a magic deep inside.

  "Ah . . . I see I am not the only one with magic items," Glorýa smirked.

  "A walking staff my mam gave me when I was but a wee lad. It'll help me keep my footing on the ice," Draegos responded. He placed his hand just under the ruby and held it firmly. His thumb touched the ruby, and a spike shot out from the bottom of the staff, which he then plunged into the ice and tested.

  Greffel used an ice pick ax, Glorýa had a spiked walking stick, and they stepped into the confines of the Ice Tunnels in hopes of finding the Citadel of Ice safe from the darkness. Draegos already knew the answer, but he had to go anyway to recover the stone.

  They will die.

  Shut up. I won't let them, Draegos retorted mentally.

  It is the price you will pay for the stones. There is always a price. Some paid with their sanity, others with the lives of their families. You will pay with the lives of your friends.

  I do not accept that price. Find another.

  Great power requires great sacrifice, dwarf. You do not get to choose.

  Watch me.

  The trio of tunnel explorers descended into the twisting corridors several hundred feet underground through dangerous slopes and ledges. As they turned a corner there stood before them three passages extended from this central area. Greffel looked around and noticed a fire pit and pile of refuse nearby the central corridor. He motioned towards Draegos and invited him over using just his hand gestures.

  The dwarf knelt by the refuse pile and used the end of his staff to sort through the garbage. Mixed within the trash were the bones of several dwarfs. Rage escaped the dwarf’s lips in the form of a growl, and he stopped poking at the heap. He took out his ax and began carving out trenches for the remains of the dwarfs. The two gnomes understood and took up positions to watch for any interlopers as the dwarf pe
rformed the last rites for his brethren.

  "Which tunnel do we go down, Glorýa?" Greffel asked.

  "It'll be the central corridor. The others are decoys that will send you to your death," she informed her fellow companions. Draegos used the Ice Staff to stand, and he surveyed the area.

  "These tunnels are thousands of years old," he pointed out, "They were the tunnels my people lived in, in ages past, before we built the Citadels." They had all begun walking down the central tunnel as the dwarf explained the history.

  "Is it true that the Philosophers taught the dwarfs how to build?" Glorýa asked.

  "Aye. It was the Great Philosopher of Monks that taught us. He showed them the art of engineering. Later, my people would use magic to reinforce their creations, and in time the Three Citadels of Den'Thir would be completed. Our first king would send out others to expand our knowledge of the realms around us."

  "Fascinating! How long ago was that?" Greffel asked. The three continued their journey down the corridor when Draegos held up his left hand for them to be silent. He motioned for Greffel to get on the other side of the tunnel as he leaned in to see what lay ahead in the main chamber.

  Draegos slowly peered around the corner and noticed a group of goblins standing in a circle around the body of a dwarf. Draegos could see the gold trim along the dwarf's cloak hood and knew it was a holy man. He gripped his ax tight in his left hand, and Greffel noticed his tension, so he too slowly drew his hand crossbow and loaded it. Glorýa unsheathed her sword and prepared for battle by casting a spell to make them all quicker. "Vál'sheyn'tor'rapydytyon,”[15] she muttered while they took one last second to prepare.

  Draegos stepped forward, moving faster than he’d anticipated, and landed a blow to one goblin's head; it came off at the neck as he turned to strike another. Greffel came up behind Draegos and attacked another goblin to his right, taking out its knees. Glorýa stepped into the scene and unleashed a barrage of tiny fireballs that destroyed the furthest goblin, leaving only three to look at their new adversaries. Before they could act, Draegos struck the center one with his ax. There was a blinding flash, and Greffel appeared to slam his dagger into the back of another goblin, delivering a death blow. He then raised his crossbow and shot it at the remaining goblin, disintegrated them. The three stood there amongst the dead bodies of the goblins and took note of their surroundings.