“My dwarf brethren will not be pleased with why they have been awakened.”
“But they will be awakened. They will once again mine for gold, precious metals, and precious jewels. They will once again make the most beautiful jewelry and items of magic. For none match the artistry of the dwarves, for it is only they who may imbue objects with runes and bind-runes. It is only the dwarves who make the best and the finest items of magic, for their lore runs deep, passed from generation to generation. It is time for you to train the next generation.”
“I will make this crown for Loki. Then once I am done, I will make a crown for myself that will outshine his.”
“As is your right.”
“I hope you brought your travelling clothes.”
“I did. Why, how far away is Nidavellir?”
“Not far as the crow flies, as the gateway is quite close. Come, follow me.”
Jakobus led Sihr to the Knight’s Stable.
“The gateway is here?” asked Sihr.
“What better place to hide a gateway than under all the muck from horses?”
“A good point.”
Jakobus found a door off to one side that revealed stairs leading down. Once at the bottom of the stairs, Jakobus lit a lantern. The light showed little in the room as it was empty.
Jakobus said: “There are stories that the Knight’s Stable was at one time the stable of the gods in Asgard. That when Asgard was destroyed, parts of it fell to Midgard. The story goes that this was the stable where Odin kept his mighty eight-legged horse, and where the Valkyrie kept their winged horses. As you may remember, the stable roof is open, which allowed the Valkyrie to fly in on their winged horses. Somehow the gateway to Nidavellir attached itself to the Asgard stable, so now it is here. Perhaps the story is mostly lies, but no one knows what happened to Asgard after so many of the Norse gods disappeared.”
Jakobus removed his amulet which created his disguise. Before Sihr’s eyes, he transformed from a relatively short person into what must have been thought of as a tall dwarf.
Jakobus sighed. “My amulet that disguises me is also my key into Nidavellir,” he said. “As well, I may not enter my realm looking like a person from Midgard.”
“I am honored that you allow me, a simple priest of the Paupers Temple, to enter your realm. I do not know of many who have been allowed entrance.”
“Typically, it was only Odin who visited our realm, almost always with a request for something or other. Or it was the elves wanting to trade, for even though we hated them fiercely, there were still some things only they could procure.”
“Is there still a gateway from Nidavellir to Alfheim?”
“There should be, but it will be sealed. Come priest, let me open your eyes to the wonderment of Nidavellir, home of the dwarves.”
Jakobus pressed his amulet against a section of the wall making a door appear. The door appeared to have been made all from stone. Jakobus pushed on the door, revealing the realm of Nidavellir. They both walked through and Jakobus closed the gateway behind them.
“Welcome, priest, welcome to my realm.”
Sihr blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He also began to shiver. “You forgot to mention that your realm is quite cold,” he said.
“Do not worry, we will soon fire up the forges and you will forget the cold.”
They stood on the side of a tall mountain. A wide shelf had been carved from the side of the mountain which would have allowed a large contingent of dwarves to stand. Sihr walked to the edge of the landing. Everywhere he looked were mountains. The gateway had been placed at the top of one of the tallest mountains allowing a majestic view. Snow-tipped mountains stretched as far as the eye could see. And in between some mountains could be seen clouds, they were that high up.
“A wondrous realm, King Jakobus. Its beauty stuns me; I am at a loss for words.”
“You may be at a loss for words as the air is quite thin this high up in the mountains. Come, follow me.”
Sihr had noticed on both sides of the shelf were stairs carved into the side of the mountain. As they walked down, Sihr marveled at the ingenuity and craftsmanship. The stairs were like a tunnel, as the ceiling was the mountain. The side that was the edge of the mountain had stone railings and columns carved from the mountain, so that the mountain did not collapse onto the stairs, and dwarves did not easily fall over the side.
In wonder Sihr said: “Truly, even these stairs attest to the might of the dwarves. This must have taken years to carve these stairs. Even the steps themselves have been smoothed so that they could easily appear in any castle.”
Sihr walked to the edge, holding tightly onto the stone railings. Said: “I see these stairs have been carved into other mountains. An impressive effort.”
“We have lived here long, priest. We have had time to make this realm our own.”
“Is that a bridge I see? But not a simple bridge, no, it appears to be all stone and covered with a roof to protect you from the elements.”
“To travel from mountain to mountain was simply too much effort. We had to climb down to the bottom of the mountain then climb up the other. And so bridges were built, connecting the mountains. This was of course before the magic of portals was introduced to us, so now traveling from mountain to mountain is accomplished by portal.”
“And what are those white dots on the sides of the mountains?”
“Goats.”
“Goats?”
“Yes, mountain goats, for they can scale some of the sheerest mountain sides in search of food. They also taste delicious.”
Soon they reached a landing with two enormous doors.
“This will do,” said Jakobus as he pulled on a door. The door opened grudgingly. Inside was a hallway, carved ornately like all the other stone Sihr had seen.
“Grab a torch, priest.” From the basket, Jakobus and Sihr each picked up a torch. Jakobus pulled out flint and created a spark, setting his torch ablaze. Sihr lit his torch from Jakobus’s and they walked down the hall.
“Each mountain was ruled by a dwarf lord,” began Jakobus, filling the empty hallway with the sound of his voice. “The forges are near the top of the mountains, as the chimneys and vents must let all the smoke easily escape. Below that are the dwarf lord’s great halls, where he would entertain. Underneath that were all the living quarters and kitchens. And below that, were the great mines that stretched deep into the roots of the mountain.”
“And where was your great hall, King Jakobus?”
“The king of dwarves has no hall. He spends all his time travelling from mountain to mountain, visiting each mountain lord. Sometimes he may stay a month with his entourage, sometimes just a week. The king must always be careful not to overstay his welcome as he does not want to bankrupt the mountain lord.”
“Still, it almost sounds like a way to ensure each mountain lord does not earn too much. It is a way to keep their earnings in check.”
“As I said before, your wisdom is impressive, priest.”
“So, what level are we at?”
“The forges.”
Sihr could see light at the end of the hall. He shivered and gathered his cloak about him. As they approached the end of the hall, Sihr could see snow covering the floor. At first the snow simply dusted the floor, then it was ankle deep. The snow grew higher as they reached the end of the hall until it was up to Sihr’s knees.
“Do not worry, priest, once the forges are lit, the heat will melt all the snow. There are sluice drains all over the floor allowing the snow-melt to disappear.
At the entrance, Sihr’s jaw dropped. Seeing the expression on Sihr’s face, Jakobus allowed himself a rare smile.
“I see you have never seen the great forges of the dwarves.”
“No, King Jakobus, I have only seen the simple forges in the Hive in Trondheim, like the one owned and operated by Grum and Arastead.”
“Oh, we still have those small forges as well for the delicate work. But the
great blast furnaces, the only ones that may generate the heat needed for the runes and bind-runes to be embedded properly, that is what you see before you.”
Sihr closed his mouth and nodded weakly. He had seen many structures before in his life but nothing like this. And to know that it had been carved from the heart of a mountain only added to his amazement. s
The room was a great circle, easily five hundred feet wide. In the middle was a large chimney, with the forge at the bottom. Bellows, the largest Sihr had ever seen, circled the forge. The ends of each below were connected by ropes to large gears and pulleys. A large water wheel, like one Sihr had seen at a mill, was also connected to the gears and ropes. But the water wheel, much like the forge and the bellows, was enormous.
Jakobus explained: “There is a large tank high above carved out of the rock that is fed by snow-melt. Once the tank is full of water, that is when the forge can truly begin to get hot. For the water wheel operates the bellows which heat the special coal in the forge to a temperature that allows dwarves to make objects of beauty. Come, let us light this forge.”
“We will not start the water wheel?”
“No, no, we may light the forge in a simple way without using the water wheel. Besides, the tank is just full of snow right now.”
They trudged through the knee-high snow. Sihr could now see why there was so much snow in the room. Huge vents allowing for fresh air had been carved into the ceiling which led on an angle to the sides of the mountain. Over the years, and over many snowstorms, snow had been able to make its way down many of the air shafts and had collected on the floor, not melting. In some places underneath the air shafts, the snow had piled taller than Sihr. Luckily, all the air shafts were off to the sides of the room. They trudged through the knee-high snow until they reached the forge.
“Do we simply throw our torches into the forge?” asked Sihr.
“Dwarves coal is not as simple as that, priest. Our coal can generate heat such that it would melt a normal forge in the Hive. To light it then means certain words and spells must be used.”
Jakobus paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I have waited a long time to whisper these words.”
As he touched his torch to the coals, he murmured a spell under his breath. The coals lit and turned red where Jakobus had first touched. A small fire appeared over the coals, which slowly spread to the other coals. After many minutes, all the coals now glowed with heat and fire.
Sihr appreciatively held his hands out above the coals warming them. “Much better,” he said.
The heat slowly warmed the forge which began to radiate heat. The snow closest to the forge slowly melted, which went down the many grates in the floor.
“King Jakobus, when will your people wake?”
“The heat from the forge has its own magical properties. The words I spoke above the coals before I lighted them, those words, spoken every time before the coals are started, keep my people warm and alive. A funny trick I have always felt that Odin played on us, for when the forges go cold, so do my people. And it is only the gods who may keep our forges running.”
“What of the Book of Princore? I thought you were to teach Arastead of the book’s knowledge. With your forges lit, it would be the ideal opportunity.”
“It was the arrangement as I recall. I have it here tucked away in my things. A powerful book, still a wonder that the blacksmith Lanson had it at all. And yes, when the time is convenient, I will teach Arastead all he can handle about infusing weapons with runes and bind-runes.”
The coals turned a dull red to white as the heat from the forge increased. Sihr took a few steps back from the forge, the heat was so great.
“Will you be taking me back to my realm, King Jakobus?”
“Soon, soon, priest, there is one more thing I would like you to see before you return.”
“What other wonders of Nidavellir would you like me to witness?”
“A fine dwarf feast would be ideal but I fear that would take too long. No, I would have you gaze upon my people before you return.”
“You mentioned it is the words you speak above the coals that wakes your people. Will it be long?”
“No, soon, I think as I hear some rustling, some shuffling of feet.”
In the darkness around the far edges of the great forge room Sihr could barely discern movement. He too could now hear a sound like the shuffling of many feet along the ground through the slowly melting snow. As he looked around the room in other directions, he could see movement everywhere, shadows coming closer and closer to the forge.
Jakobus raised his voice: “Come my people, sons and daughters of the great dwarves, miners, blacksmiths, artisans, come into the light where I may see you. Come where I may see your beauty and your strength.”
Sihr could now easily see the dwarves as the glow from the forge cast their features into soft relief. Everywhere he looked, he saw a solid wall of dwarves approaching the forge, approaching their king. Their arms lay woodenly by their sides, their eyes were open but did not yet seem to see. With mouths open slackly through the thickness of their moustaches and long beards they shuffled their way towards the warmth of the forge.
At a certain distance from the forge, the dwarves stopped. Sihr could see intelligence and life slowly beginning to burn in their eyes. Their mouths snapped shut, and they straightened their backs like the proud race they are. Mixed in with all the bearded dwarves were women, but the women were tall, slender yet strong, and did not at all look like their male companions.
“Tell me, King Jakobus, who are the women among the male dwarves? I did not know that women of the realm of Midgard live in Nidavellir.”
Jakobus chuckled, then said: “Priest, those are not women from your realm. Those are the daughters, wives, and women of the race of dwarves. Do you not recognize them as she-dwarves?”
“You must ignore my ignorance, but no, I cannot see them as she-dwarves.”
“What did you expect, priest. Women with beards?”
“I must admit I had never given it much thought, what the women of your race looked like. I simply assumed they would look like you, just less hairy.”
“You must work on your compliments, priest. The she-dwarves of Nidavellir are beautiful, are they not?”
“I must admit, their beauty does surprise me and leaves me nervous to talk to one of them.”
“There is nothing to fear, priest. However, were you to try and kidnap one of our daughters, then you would feel the wrath of the dwarves.”
“Now I understand better why Loki stole the king’s crown and stole a kiss from the king’s daughter.”
“You say that if she had a beard, Loki would not have wanted a kiss from her?”
Sihr’s face turned a slight red from embarrassment. “You misunderstand me, King Jakobus. Merely that the she-dwarves of your realm are quite fetching. And of course, it was wrong of Loki, the God of Trickery and deceit, to steal the crown and steal a kiss.”
“Another curse from Odin. Once the dwarves were tall and strong. But Odin feared our strength and so he made the dwarves short. And he left our women beautiful so that the dwarf men were always reminded of how they used to once look. There is one other favor I would ask of you, priest. How strong are your powers of healing?”
“I am quite able now to heal many wounds, including broken bones, even people who have been badly burned. I may make headaches disappear, but I still refuse to heal a headache caused by wine or mead. That one is self-inflicted, and I feel they need to learn their own lesson.”
“What of the wounds of the heart?”
“You mean a broken heart? One hurt by love’s cruel sting?”
“Yes, priest, that is the one.”
Sihr thought for a moment. He looked at the crowd of dwarves as they slowly became more and more conscious and alert.
“No one has ever asked me to heal wounds from love before,” said Sihr. “I would not even know where to begin, what combination of wa
ter, air, fire, earth would help.”
“That is fine, priest. I did not think it was possible, I just had to ask.”
“You need your heart mended, King Jakobus?”
“No, another. The old king’s daughter will soon be awake. And as her father is no longer here and I am king, she is now my daughter. I worry that when she wakes, she will ask of Loki. And when I tell her that he loves another, daughter of the king of the frost giants, her heart will break.”
“I see Loki has cause much hurt and grief in this realm and others.”
“Well, one good thing about him is that I have been asked to make him a crown that will end his curse of being a statue. It is because of this crown that my people have woken. Now I will address my kin.”
In a loud booming voice he said: “I am King Jakobus, son of Jakotun, son of Jakoturn. I am king of the land of Nidavellir. Awaken my people for you have slept long. This is the first forge of many that I have lit. Once I have lit all the forges in our great land, we will mine the ground as in the old days for the finest jewels, the most precious of metals, and we will hammer our anvils and build the works of art envied by all the realms.”
A cheer sounded from the crowd.
“Behold.” Jakobus held something above his head. “The Book of Princore has returned.”
A much louder cheer sounded from the crowd.
“With the return of this book, we will be able to make such items of magic that even the gods will tremble. For we are dwarves, and we will not be relegated to the shadows of our mountains.”
The cheer from the crowd was so loud Sihr covered his ears.
CHAPTER 27
A Fight of Thieves
It had been several days since the recapture of the Pitcairn thieves guild. King Frederick had relented and allowed the four were-beasts to assist them in the retaking of the guild. The were-beasts had been good to their word, and had helped by infiltrating the guild and gaining the trust of its new master. They showed Frederick’s and Cormac’s weapons to the new master to prove they had killed everyone. When pressed about the bodies, Liulfr had simply lied and said they had thrown the bodies into the pond beside the Heart Tree. The master had not questioned this explanation and had allowed the were-beasts free passage in the guild.
The Prophecy of Asgard Page 19
