by P. G. Thomas
Aaro turned to the group, “You may want to stand back.”
Looking around the room, they realized that a semicircle of dwarves had surrounded them, half on their knees with the polearms wedged into the stones, and behind them, others armed with axes. Moving quickly behind the line of dwarves, they never had a chance to ask what was happening. Aaro, still standing in front, nodded. Fodu moved behind the cage, pulled a pin, causing the chains to release, and the door creaked open. The beast, realizing that restraints no longer held it captive, exited, raising itself up onto its back legs, howling in anger, and a terrified John wet himself.
The lone dwarf with the unconventional weapon slammed one end into the floor, carving a line in the hard stone before rushing forward. The beast shifted its gaze to the movement, sprinting to greet the small figure with a terrifying enthusiasm. As the lone dwarf raised his odd weapon, they all saw the runes glowing when he sidestepped the trollmare, and he slashed the weapon into one of the legs. When a second leg came up to claw at him, the opposite end of the weapon greeted it, gifting the terrible beast great pain. When its tail came around, the dwarf ducked under it, holding the metal blade high, and the freshly amputated end slid across the room. Before the beast could turn, the dwarf brought the blade forward with so much force that he amputated the front leg: the bone providing no resistance to the mithril in the metal blade. As it hobbled around, the warrior slid on the bloody floor under the beast, carving the blade through its belly cavity, causing blood and guts to erupt onto him. The beast, confused and in great pain, never saw the dwarf on the other side swinging the metal blade. Instead, it only felt the other leg go numb before seeing it twitching on the floor. Trying to move forward, it stumbled, not realizing that it now walked on four, and as it did, the dwarf drove the metal blade into its skull. Reaching to his back for the huge ax, disengaging it from the holding mechanism, he brought it down with both hands onto the neck of the trollmare. The stone floor finally providing sufficient resistance to stop the rage of the dwarf. Prying the ax from the floor, he secured it onto his back, removed the metal blade from the skull, and raised the severed head high. Cheering with so much pride, John, Steve, and Eric had to cover their ears, as the deep thick voices of the dwarves bounced off the walls, amplifying them.
Aaro walked up to the dwarf, followed by the three, and handed the bloodied dwarf a towel in exchange for the victorious weapon. He wiped it off with a second, inspecting it for damage, and then smiled. Turning to the gathered dwarves, he pointed to the still twitching beast. “This day, history seen you have. One dwarf, one trollmare. Victory Dwarf. Never before done has this been. Trollmare, fear to our lands they brought, return it to their black hearts we shall.” Again the room filled with cheers until Aaro held up his hands, “This night celebrate we will not. Tonight, Celebration of Sorrows all will attend for Earth Mother Ironhouse does weep. No joy she has, so her pain share you will. She is legend, Ironhouse. Now go, but tell none what this day your eyes saw. Day next, tell all I will, and celebrate we shall. I am Master Weapon Smith, and my words are law. Obey, or bellows work you will until last trollmare slain it is.”
Instantly, the mood in the room changed, and the massive doors opened allowing the gathered dwarves to leave. Fodu wandered over as Aaro turned to the three, “I am pleased to introduce to you Jaykil Ironhouse. Jaykil, these are brothers and legends, Eric Ironhouse, Champion. John Ironhouse, Unchosen, and Steve, but brother nor legend is he.”
Jaykil nodded as he looked at the long wet stain on John’s pants. Then he turned to Aaro and Fodu. “Master Weapon Smith, Master Armorer, the honor gifted me this day, I thank you both.”
John, who had moved behind Steve to hide his shame, could no longer contain himself, “Aar—Master Weapon Smith, are you crazy? What happened if something went wrong?”
“The trollmare was small, and we had many we had, so I was not worried.”
John was still shaking, “Why not kill it in the cage?”
“Then it wouldn’t have been a fair fight,” Eric replied. Aaro nodded as Eric held out his hands, receiving the metal blade to inspect it. “This doesn’t look like a dwarf weapon. Why?”
“The trollmares are quick, and we do not have time to maneuver an ax proper. With edges on all sides, the attack direction does not matter, as the dwarf blade stands ready to bite.” Aaro spit on the dead beast, “This one killed Ruby’s brother. Dwarf satisfaction, at last, is ours.”
Eric looked at the runes, “I thought you forgot how to make these?”
“Father, we called to, and he answered. Mother, no words for us she had, but Father knows battle and gifted us knowledge.”
Even though his pants were still wet, John stepped forward, asking to inspect the blade, “How did you make it so thin?”
“In the Book of Metals, my name is now written. I searched it for long hours, and some words were so old, they were forgotten, but one metal was different. Long we mined, depths great we searched, and in all directions, new shafts all went. With our efforts rewarded, we had to build a new forge. It was so hard that it would not melt.” Aaro pulled out a piece of rock from his pocket, handing it to John, “It was named Iron Wood Ore in Book of Metals.”
He examined the silvery white rock with a hexagonal, close-packed, crystal structure, “I think this is Lutetium. It’s one of the hardest metals known. Back home, it’s one of the rare earth elements.”
Aaro took the rock back, “The suns these days are rare. This was so rare we thought it legend. With the advantage realized, we looked for signs. For years of two, our best rock scouts searched, finding many false trails, but we would not let it hide from us, and it is as stubborn as trees it is named after. Extract, refine, process; that was a battle as well. Then we mixed it with mithril, but many tests required were, but finally, molten metal flowed from the hot forge. Now let us go to my weapons shop.”
As John went to follow Aaro, he realized that Steve was still looking at the dead trollmare, so he tapped his arm.
“These little munchkins are going to fight those things?”
“Given the choice,” began John,” of fighting with them or against them. Trust me, you want them on your side.”
When the door opened, John did not see the old, large forge first seen so long ago Instead, one ten feet high, eight feet in diameter, and carved from solid granite now stood in its place. Aaro smiled, “Bigger made we did, so hold heat great she would, and long into the night, melt metal she will.” Then he led them across the hall to another room, and inside, dozens of dwarves worked on the rock casts to accept the special metal. Each cast was open faced with several impressions carved into it. “Metal so thin, heat lost quickly it is. So hard, temper no need we have.” Then he took them to the back where apprentices were practicing sharpening the first prototypes. They were sitting at small wooden framed devices that had foot pedals spinning the sharpening stone. “Often I thought, Unchosen, how would this he do? Many traditions old set aside I did, as time for them there was not. Day next, forge one thousand we will, within days, all sharpened will be.”
John looked at the dwarves employing the new technology. That would be the Butterfly Effect.
“I still have much to do. Should you have thoughts, let me know.” Aaro then called to a junior apprentice. “Guide the legends to their quarters.”
Before Aaro could walk away, Steve asked, “Master Weapon Smith, with those beasts around, I would feel more comfortable if I had a weapon. Do you have any extras?”
Aaro nodded to the young apprentice, “Take all to the learning room, so he may pick.”
The young dwarf led them up three flights of stairs and then down the hall to a room filled with desks. “They call me Beltok. Here we learn metals, forges, and more.” He showed them to a side table covered with numerous swords, axes, knives, and some pieces of armor. “Apprentice samples, our efforts judged, and you can select from these.”
Steve started at one end of the table, walking down it
s length slowly. As he did, picking up some to examine, pushing others to the back, he picked up one sword in a scabbard, having a three-foot long blade, which he inspected, tapping the tip on the floor in order to hear it vibrate. “Pretty big for a dwarf.”
Beltok looked down, “The Master Apprentice advised me of the same, and my grade failed.”
Steve put it back in the sheath, “It’s a good sword, solid construction. May I borrow it?”
“Great pride I would have if you would accept it,” replied Beltok.
Steve walked along the length of the table, picking up what looked like metal guards, and two other sheathed swords, which were two feet long, and lastly, a long thin knife. Then he turned to Beltok, “Please thank your Master Weapon Smith for me.”
“You look like a kid in a candy store,” advised Eric.
“They never had sweets like this where I came from.”
Then Beltok led them up to the guest quarters.
Once Steve had stashed the weapons in his room, he went down to the meeting hall where everybody but Lauren was present. John was telling them about the trollmares that they had seen, both living and dead, but omitted the victory of Jaykil. He told them of the new forge, and of the weapons being made, the light mithril armor, but when done, he met the cold gaze of Ryan.
“How much longer are we going to stay here?”
“Aaro and Bor should’ve an answer tomorrow on how they can help us,” replied John. “So give it one more day. How’s Lauren doing?”
“She’s on edge, wearing a brave front when she’s around others, but when we’re alone, it crumbles. I wish there were something I could give her.”
“Eric, everybody knows you,” began John. “Can you go see if they have, I don’t know, doctors or something? Fodu was a barber-surgeon, so they know medicine and how the body works.” Then Eric left the room in search of his dwarven brothers.
“The mithril was so light it was like cloth?” asked Gayne.
John nodded, “When that beast bit his arm, there was no damage.”
“Twenty-four different trollmares, and no two alike,” stated Logan. “How many different kinds are there?”
Steve spoke up, “It was like walking into the horror show of all horror shows. They may have been dead and stuffed, but even that way, they scared the crap out of me. After seeing that live one, I hope I never see one that isn’t behind bars.”
After ten minutes, Eric walked back into the room with a slender female elf behind him, who carried a small satchel. He looked at the group, “This is Crystal, the wife of Fodu.”
As he introduced the rest, Steve, uncertain if his eyes were playing tricks on him, did a double take.
Crystal then turned to Ryan, “Earth Mother does not feel well?”
“She is troubled, worried about our missing daughters. Can you help?”
“I will try. Years back, Earth Mothers visited and left me some gifts from Mother. Please take me to her.”
As they left, Steve looked to Logan, “Describe her ears.”
“They looked normal to me. Why?”
“Her voice?”
“Not sure what you’re getting at, old man.”
Steve shook his head. I must have been underground too long.
“Yes, she had deer ears and sounded different,” replied Mirtza. “You really are a bastard, Logan.”
“Do one thing, do it good.”
“What exactly was she?” asked Steve.
“Elf,” replied Mirtza.
“Well, then why does she sound so differently?”
“The translation ointment,” replied Mirtza. “John thought it had something to do with old roots, but I never understood his connection to words.”
John shook his head, “As I understand, elves are one of the oldest races here. Somehow, the translation ointment has made a connection to the old Anglo-Saxon origins of our language, or its roots.”
Ryan and Crystal returned fifteen minutes later, “I have calmed her mind, and she rests. You may wish to consider the same since preparations for the Celebration of Sorrows shall be extensive, so late it will start,” and then she left.
As Ryan headed back to his room, John also excused himself, explaining that he needed time to think, so Mirtza and Gayne quizzed Steve on the trollmares, and Logan walked over to Eric.
“Eric, I don’t like this trip. It’s been what, about a week,” began Logan. “We need to get back to the Bright Coast, so we can look for my nieces—before Lauren has a mental breakdown.”
“Also, before the magic finds Ryan.” Eric nodded, “I know, but Mirtza’s right, and we aren’t going to find them ourselves. If John had his magic, he might be able to do something. We just can’t walk through the Bright Coast, screaming out their names. We don’t even know if they’re still—”
Logan shook his head, “Don’t even think like that. If that damn machine had just pulled us over here, and we only had to fix this place and then go home, I might almost enjoy it.”
“You haven’t seen those trollmares,” advised Eric. “Look, I think Mirtza’s right, and if we get Ironhouse at our backs, well, we can go anywhere we want in the Bright Coast. If we can find Zack, he might be able to track them down, and I think John’s other cloak is in Alron.”
“Is that why he wants to go back there, so he can get his magic back?”
“No, I don’t think so. He could’ve made the trip by himself, or with Mirtza and Gayne. Look, Its complicated, and I can’t explain it with words.”
“Try.”
“We’ve drafted our team and are getting our equipment. We already know the playing field just not the opponent. The game’s going to change, starting off like football, then switch to capture the flag. Once we know our objective, we’ll start running plays. If we just start scrambling, we might score on our own end. We need to get organized first, so do me a favor, and keep your sister distracted. As for you, just give it a break. Everybody’s concerned, but until we get a playbook, it’s going to take some time.”
“Pretend this is Scrabble and spell it out for me, without the sports crap!”
“Four letters: wait.”
“For what, Lauren to have a mental breakdown?” Then Logan headed towards the hall to check on his sister, and sharing a similar frustration, Eric headed to his room to rest.
Steve looked at Mirtza and Gayne, “I don’t really know what’s going on, and to be honest, none of it makes any sense. I’ve heard what you two have told everybody, and what John said. I understand the strange accident that brought them here the first time, and even though it seems farfetched, I also understand that John built that machine, which took them home. From the way he’s talking, and what he’s not saying, he thinks that somebody else used magic to power his machine. Are there any other schools or individuals that know that kind of magic?”
“Not that I am aware of,” advised Gayne. “We try to protect what we have learned so that others are unable to steal our knowledge.”
“Okay, so what happens with your students who graduate?”
“We employ most of the talented ones, continuing the research, teaching, or to make some of the products that we sell. A few of the wealthier ones returned home where they might make wards to protect their property or beasts to help out with chores. Some go into other lines of work, as graduating from my school is considered privileged.”
“What kinds of products to you sell?” inquired Steve.
“We need to be careful what items we release to the public so that we raise few concerns. Recently, we have gone into the plumbing business, selling magic pipes that create hot water, but the Wood Cutters Guild is upset. We have also started experiments with magic lights, but the Lamp Makers Guild has found out.”
“So then,” began Steve,” is there anybody who could have brought their own magic to activate the machine?”
Mirtza shook his head, “John was the first to reach up, pulling magic from the sky, but how he captured it, I am unsure
. The presence of the kites and chains was obvious to all, but he never told me what was inside the cloaks. After he had left, we did ‘recharge’ his second and tried it on, but neither Gayne nor I felt anything. There might have been insufficient magic in the sky, or the kites failed to fly high enough, maybe something else unknown. Even though we talked about opening up the cloak, we were afraid if it did contain magic, we had no idea on what it would do.”
“You seem pretty observant, and your memory is extraordinary,” advised Gayne.
“Before I found your friends, I had to be. I was a cop for years, like the Town Watch, and a soldier for even longer. If you weren’t paying attention, then you were dead. Can you sense magic?”
“If we hear a spell, it makes a magical noise,” replied Gayne. “The larger the spell, the louder the sound, but John was the first to sense magic. I think that is why he wants his other cloak back, as he might be able to do something with it.”
Steve nodded, “Makes sense. Where is this other one?”
“It should be in Alron,” Gayne began to explain, “When we left, after we extracted the machine from the basement of his house, we never located his first cloak. So it should still be where ever he hid it, and I just hope that nothing has happened to it.”
*******
It was several hours later when Bor walked up to the guest quarters, telling everyone the celebration would start within the hour. When he returned, all waited for him, and he led them to the great hall. Outside of it, Aaro, Fen, and Fodu were waiting with Ruby, who led Mirtza, Gayne, and Steve to a table at the front of the hall. Aaro then escorted Lauren with Eric to the middle of the table, taking a seat at her side. Leading John in, Bor took his guest to the chairs to the right. Then Fen guided Ryan to the chairs at the left, leaving Fodu to direct Logan to the closest seats, but at the far end, two remained empty.
When everybody was seated, Aaro stood, “Ironhouse, honored we are this night as legends great return to us. Earth Mother Ironhouse, Champion, Unchosen, Bastard, and the Unnamed, or Rage Heart as bards now call him.” He pointed to the table in the front row, “Friends new and old they also bring: Gayne, Mirtza, and one called Steve.” Aaro lowered his head, “Seats at far end my brothers should sit; Gor and Hakk, Warrior’s Fallen.” Then his deep voice filled the great room, “They do not Joy bring with them. They were invited on their first visit, but the bards still argue by whom. This time Earth Mother Ironhouse is sorrow chased, and with her children stolen, they now search for them.” He placed a hand on Lauren’s shoulder, “Yes, Ironhouse will help. This night, clan members John, Eric, and Earth Mother Ironhouse return, a reason for celebration. Glad fills our hearts, theirs not. Stories this night, none you will hear, as the celebration both parties must share. This night, look upon legends you can. In body they visit, but thought distracted they are.” Aaro then clapped his hands, “Celebration of Sorrows. Let it begin.”
