by P. G. Thomas
“Can you blame him? This is the kind of event that can rip a—” and then he saw the two children looking at him, “can rip a pizza in two.” He turned to Mirtza, “Any thoughts for tomorrow?”
“I was wondering if we could stop by a fragrance shop on the way back, but I think we should get up earlier. See if we can be the first SHET wagon on the main street north.”
Sam put down his piece of pizza, “We are not having this every night, are we?”
*******
It was extremely early the next morning when Mirtza materialized the wagon in the stable, noticing the smell was winning its battle against its magical confinement. Logan was out next carrying a satchel that contained the two sleeping otters: Sam and Hope. Steve and Ryan were the last to arrive with shovels in hand, taking their seats on the open tailgate. While the first sun had yet to summit the horizon, Ryan could already feel his hopes of success plummeting, as he looked at the surrounding darkness.
It was several hours later when Gayne escorted Eric, Lauren, and her Guardians with their wolves to his school before going to pick up Iljam. From there they visited numerous shops to make arrangements for the delivery of furniture, and the other necessary items to open the pizzeria. However, Gayne had no reason to pay with his gold, as Mirtza had brought his share to invest in the business. It was the early afternoon when they dropped Iljam off at the restaurant, and while he thought it was unusual, Lauren introduced him to it before granting him permission to enter. After that, the rest went in search of her Earth Daughters.
As they rode along, Lauren thought of the two Earth Daughters, and when they approached an intersection, she could feel her staff lean in the direction they should turn. When she thought of her daughters, it failed to provide the same, but she determined it was sensing the power gifted to the two young ones, who now sought to help. An hour later, they found the small group outside of a healing clinic, and Lauren was pleased to see that they had purchased second-hand clothes, looking very presentable. Eric stepped out of the carriage first, but after Lauren did, she quickly closed the door, so that the four Guardians stayed inside.
As she approached, Krisp smiled. “Hello, Ea—”
Interrupting her, Lauren wanted to keep her presence hidden. Taking Krisp by the hand, she led her up the street while the young Earth Guards formed a loose but watchful perimeter around the meeting.
Lauren smiled, “You’re looking better.”
“We tried to approach some, but most avoided us.”
She was surprised at the change in Krisp’s words, “You sound different.”
“I think the last of the Sun has worn off. My thoughts are clear, and most of the memories of what I did…they are fading. Daughter Leese and I were talking last night, but we are still unsure of how to help so many.”
“Daughter Leese, I like how that sounds. Start slow because we have time,” However, not believing that lie, she pointed to the six boys. “How’re they doing?”
“They watch out for us, ensuring one is always guarding us at night. When strangers approach, they make them leave. I think they like this life better.”
“We’re looking into opening a special place, so when you free your friends from the Midnight Sun, they’ll have a roof over their heads and more.”
*******
John was cautiously working his way through the back passages of the Ironhouse Mine, heading down to the level where the forges transformed metals. That morning, Fodu had advised that he would be melting the mithril at midday but then added, ‘Early be not.’ However, it seemed that the Master Armorer had emphasized the first two words, more than the last. A week ago, the underground community had been overflowing with dwarves, and he had seen more clan rings than he realized existed. Since his arrival, he noticed a significant reduction in the mountain population, the majority all wearing the same. To shield his presence from any watchful eyes, he had chosen a back route to the forge level, which he presumed was an escape path should something happen so deep in the mountain. Opening the door, feeling the hot air wash over him, John knew he was in the heart of the dwarven mine. On the other side, dark shadows filled the corridor, and angry voices filled the hall.
“I told you, no molds made by your clan are left.”
“Trust Ironhouse I could not.”
John recognized the voice of Aaro, “Your molds you took, but my designs and metal knowledge, will you leave them?”
“Our mine you can inspect.”
“Like that you would, but you would not let me leave.”
“Your stay would be pleasant, and your book of metals, you are welcome to bring it.”
“If Ironhouse visits, all will.”
“Iron will never rule the dwarf.”
A thunderous voice rolled down the hall, which was Bor’s, “The throne we do not want! We should vote with paper, not ax.”
“Vote, yes, and one day, your skull my will feel vote.”
Even in the dark, Aaro’s voice was distinctive, “Dwarf war is wrong! Father, his gifts are to battle trollmares, not dwarf. From the vote, Ironhouse will withdraw!”
“Clans too many think Father favors Ironhouse. You have many allies, and they would support you but are weak, and their clans are small as well.”
“The throne, we do not want it.”
“Have it, you will not. When age new dawns, and Morning Throne rules all, Ironhouse will be no more.”
The thunderous voice of Bor filled the hall, “OUT, NOW!”
Figuring that even the dwarves on the upper levels heard the last words spoken, John waited until the corridor was silent. Heading towards the main forge room, he saw the back of Fodu standing outside the door, and dragging his feet, he announced his presence.
Fodu turned, secretly smiling, “Your mithril is cold. The forge hungers to share her heat, so we should not keep her waiting.”
Following Fodu through the large doors, John felt the intense heat from the room envelop him. The Master Armorer headed up the ladder to the second level, and they both walked out onto the scaffolding so that Fodu could inspect the glowing rocks. Reaching for a tube, he barked out his command, ‘BELLOWS, NOW,’ and instantly the intensity of the coals changed from a dull orange to a bright red. John stayed towards the back, watching the masterful crew prepare the large hot forge for its cold meal. When Fodu sensed the desired temperature, he called to the four dwarves at the far end of the scaffolding. There were two on each side holding long metal poles, which they used to pick up a heavy solid rock container. Walking carefully along the planks, they moved to the mid-point of the forge, and they lowered their cargo into the bright rock fire. Inside of it, John could see the mithril from his second cloak along with several other large pieces of the same but not his belt. Even though he tried to call out, the sounds from the bellows forcing the cold air through the hot coals made it both difficult to talk and hear. As the intense heat caused the stone pot to change to a bright blue, he saw the metal begin to melt, yielding the battle to the concentrated heat. As it began to bubble, Fodu ordered the container moved to the side so the impurities could be removed. John was wondering how they would transform the hot metal soup into the mithril threads he needed, but what happened next caught him by surprise. Fodu walked over to the edge of the forge, dumped in a bag of white dust, stirring it in with a metal rod, but because the heated broth was so great, it also consumed the stir stick. As he watched the blistering container lifted from the forge, wiping the sweat from his brow, he moved to the back of the forge room. There he saw six dwarves sitting down at an unusual mechanism. Each was hand cranking a gear that connected to a much larger one, which rapidly turned a central shaft. Wishing he had noticed it when first arriving, he was unsure of its purpose, which seemed to have both a complicated and simplistic design. The dwarves then poured the hot liquid metal into another rock bowl, and Fodu walked over to the strange mechanism where he stepped on a foot pedal before turning a knob. John, watching in amazement, saw the hot liq
uid begin to empty out from an unseen drain, passing through a large box connected to the fast spinning gear. At the bottom, he saw a spindle rotating with a mithril thread appearing on it. As the process continued, Fodu would adjust knobs or give orders, which in turn caused the thickness of the thread to increase in size.
John shook his head, Butterfly Effect 2.0.
When the six dwarves stopped, Fodu looked to John, handing him his mithril belt back. “Finely crafted it was, so I could not melt. Within two weeks, the kites will fly, and the cloak will be sewn.” Without another word, the Master Armorer turned, climbed down the ladder, and left.
*******
It was around noon back on the Bright Coast. Logan and Mirtza were inside an eatery seeing if they could purchase lunch for the rest. Ryan was looking at Sam and Hope, but both otters were shaking their heads.
“Would you be interested in selling one?”
When Ryan turned to see a female Calicon slave, he did not reply, as behind her stood a resident of Darkpaye, wearing a black veil across his body, having a smaller one across his lower face.
Immediately, both of the otters ducked back into the bag, smelling the fear from the slave.
Steve, sitting on the back of the wagon, watched as the man in black slapped the back of the girl’s head, and the force of his strike caused her blouse to twist, allowing him to see what looked like brands underneath.
“My master, he would like to purchase your pets. He thinks they would amuse his children.”
Steve could see the pained expression on her face. Stepping forward to say something, he caught the intense stare of the black-veiled eyes and recalled pain. With his breathing becoming fast and shallow, perspiration soaked his hair.
Mirtza stepped out of the eatery, holding a box of food, “What is happening?”
The slave turned to him, “My master, he would like to purchase your furry pets.”
Mirtza looked at Ryan, Steve, and Logan, but all seemed to be caught in a shared intense thought, “They are not for sale.”
“My master, he will pay handsomely for them,” she began to plead.
Mirtza turned to the black-veiled man, tilted his head as if he was trying to recall something, but said nothing.
“Please,” the slave begged.
Mirtza gave his head a shake, “No.”
Grabbing the slave’s arm, the black-veiled man pushed her down the street.
As they passed Steve, the ointment heard her faint whisper, “Yes, I should have tried harder. My whipping will be deserved.”
*******
Steve had known pain, fear, hatred, and love, but as he sat on the patio that night, sipping the honey wine he had come to desire, his thoughts were on the black-veiled man, and the brands on the slave girl. Having seen numerous ‘privileged Darkpaye,’ this one seemed different, as there seemed to be a memory there or not. However, he had never frozen like that before, and considering all that he had seen, he had never once before experienced a panic attack. Pushing the empty glass aside, he drank straight from the bottle.
Inside Gayne’s office, Sam looked out the window. Was that the scent? It’s been so long. Did Hope smell it? Then he turned to his sister, “Where we unload the horse droppings, the wild dogs.”
“What about them?”
“I think some have wolf in them.”
“They ate a wolf?”
“Mom has not had the talk with you yet. No, they are cross-breeds, wild wolves—they are part wolf, okay.”
“So?”
“Hope, this is taking too long. We will never be able to find those babies by ourselves. Every day new scents wash away theirs. This place is too big, but back in Alron we would have found the trail by now, so here we need help.”
“What do you mean—”
“I need to try. Tomorrow, I will get the bonnet we found and take it to them.”
“Will they understand you?”
“I need to try. When we unload tomorrow, you will have to distract the others, making sure that they do not know that I am missing.”
Hope shook her head, “It is too dangerous!”
“If it was you missing, would you want me to try?”
“Can you?”
“I have seen Dad do it, so I guess we will find out tomorrow.”
Chapter 25
The next morning, darkness hid the skies, but Mirtza, once again, headed out with Steve, Ryan, Logan, and the two otters, all of whom were unusually quiet.
After spending a few hours at the school, Gayne took Lauren and Eric down to meet up with Iljam at the pizzeria where deliveries were arriving. Once there, the conversation quickly changed from the current issues to the future, because in three days the segregation vote would take place.
At Ironhouse, John fared no better, wandering the halls, looking for familiar faces, but only finding guarded doors and mouths. Much like their last visit, while questions were plentiful, answers had no desire to participate in the conversations.
*******
As they arrived at the dump that night, Sam and Hope had curled up on the wagon floor in the satchel, being angry once again that nobody would hold them up, so they could view the joyfully terrifying ride. Ryan and Logan were experiencing stiff legs from their trip on the “Highway to Hell,” as they called it, and Steve yawned while Mirtza looked for a spot to deposit their treasure that stunk. When an opening beside a large pile of manure appeared, Mirtza gladly slapped the reins of the magical horses, maneuvering the wagon to the desired location. As it stopped, Steve and Ryan jumped out to unload.
Ryan also grabbed Logan by the arm, “You can help. The quicker we unload, the faster we get back.”
“No,” but then an otter started to push on his leg, “Alright, but just for you,” and then he stepped out of the wagon.
Hope, the otter, jumped into Mirtza’s lap, and he started to rub her belly, scratching behind her ears. As a result, he never saw the second scamper down the side of the wagon, holding the small pink baby bonnet clenched tightly in its jaws.
Knowing he had little time, Sam tested the air for the wild dogs. Running as fast as he could, around and over the congested piles of rot, he lost his footing at the top of one, sliding down in front of a large pack of the wild dogs, which quickly focused on the fresh meal. Scrambling backwards, he went out of focus. A large mixed-breed alpha female had immediately advanced on the new dinner guest, but when the vision distorted, it slowed its approach. When a massive timber wolf replaced the image of its fresh meal, she curled her lips back, snarling in anger. Dropping the baby bonnet to the ground, Sam stared at the snarling pack in front of him, his back fur on end, his lips curled to expose large white teeth, but they started to advance. He tried to sense the wild wolf in them, sending out his thoughts; Wait. The pack immediately stopped, causing some of the lesser breeds to run off, scared from both the unusual command and its origin. Sam dropped the bonnet, pushed it forward with his nose, scent find. The alpha female, not liking the intrusion, lunged forward. Years of experience playing with real wolves had taught him all of their moves, but lacking time, he quickly pinned the female to the ground, causing the others to back up. Sam walked back over to the bonnet, pushed it forward again, scent find. Then he thought back to what Tranquil had said about the Beast Throne, ‘I command you.’ To his surprise, each one walked up, sniffed the bonnet, before heading off to the Bright Coast.
As Ryan, Logan, and Steve climbed into the back of the wagon, Mirtza placed Hope into the bag beside her brother, pulled off his bracelet, and opened a portal to the stables.
*******
That night, as Sam and Hope were about to transform to bed down, Hope looked to her brother, “Well, what did they have to say?”
Sam shrugged his shoulders, “When I asked them to find the scent, I think they understood me.”
*******
The next day differed little from the previous, as the dwarves were stonewalling John everywhere he went, so he decided to lea
ve. The house was quiet when a portal in the front room opened, and John stepped through. Seeing Logan and Eric sitting at the table, he froze in his tracks.
Steve walked out of the kitchen with a pitcher of beer in one hand and three mugs in the other, “I’ll get another glass.”
“Where’s everybody?” asked John.
“Lauren and Ryan have gone to bed,” advised Eric, “so have Sam and Hope. Gayne and Mirtza stayed late at the school. What’s up with you? You look like you just saw a ghost?”
He hesitantly took a step forward, “Is there anything wrong here?”
Steve walked in with the fourth mug, “The segregation vote is tomorrow, and we haven’t been able to find any scent of the triplets. What about you?”
He walked over to the table, scanning the room as he did. Then picked up a mug, taking a long drink to calm his nerves. “The dwarves are going to war, I think.”
“No, I don’t believe that,” replied Eric.
Taking his mug of beer to the far end of the table, John sat down, “While they won’t tell me what’s happening, I received a cryptic invitation where I overheard a conversation. There’s friction between the clans.”
“What about the trollmares?” asked Logan.
“None of them would talk to me.”
Logan jerked his head back, “They can talk?”
“No,” replied John, “I meant the dwarves wouldn’t talk to me. It was like I was an outsider.” When the panic attack was over, he looked at the three, “What’s expected to happen at the vote?”
“From what we hear, more councilors are dead,” began Steve, “and fewer are showing up for even the regular business. Lauren wants us to attend, but Ryan figures it might be the last day we can look for the triplets. We’re going to wait until tomorrow to see if they can agree on something.”
*******
It was pitch black outside when Lauren jerked herself upright, startling Ryan so bad that he rolled off the bed, but the words she spoke next, shocked him awake.
“My daughters, they’re in trouble.”
