The Eastern Dwarfs: Part Two - The Underground Journey

by Leo deSouza

  “Yes.” Montaron replied.

  “This is for sure odd, what were ye doing there?” Thuor asked.

  “I sailed in their ships. Through their big bay, to the great island.” Montaron replied.

  “The more ye tell about yourself the more I think ye are the best liar I ever came to know.” Torag broke in.

  “Why do ye say he is lying?” Olaf asked. “He has two legs to travel, and with this there is no limit to where one can reach.”

  “It is true, Torag!” Rurur said. “Look at where we are now. I never guessed about going so far from home.”

  Torag nodded slightly.

  “I believe ye, Montaron.” Thuor continued. “Why did ye go there, to the south?”

  “Looking for jobs.” Montaron replied.

  Now it was Olaf who spoke full mouthed: “Again looking for a job. Ye worked on a ship? Not as a corsair, I guess.”

  “Not as a corsair.” Montaron replied. “Cleaning the deck, carrying barrels…”

  “So ye never went into any fight? They never boarded any other ship to steal? As far as I know these ones are pirates, they go around, looking for plunder and razing.” Torag said.

  “Some occasions, I entered bad situations.” Montaron answered.

  “I can surely guess what ye mean with bad.” Torag replied.

  There the group rested for some more time and chatted quietly, their voices dimly sounding through the cave void. Then sleep came and they all laid on the ground, Montaron was set as first watch, soon there was no sound but the cracks of the firewood burning.

  When they woke up, Thuor was the last watch, he ordered the others to prepare to leave. Another meal was set and in no time the company began to walk again, the dwarfs were again following their journey above the dark floor of the cave, on the footbridge.

  “Hey Rurur.” Olaf said breaking the silence as the company walked. “I have noticed ye have not sung much these last days.”

  “Ah, yes…” Rurur replied. “Let me find a good one...” He walked thoughtful, searching in his own mind for a song that could fit the moment, but ended up shaking his head. “No… I can’t find a good one. I’ve many songs about underground, but these are for our glossy and bright halls, in our house. Not for this gloomy cold cave.”

  “I know one.” Montaron spoke.

  Everyone looked at him in surprise.

  “Ye? Ye don’t even talk much, now ye come and say ye will sing for us?” Olaf asked.

  “Yes. Sing, Montaron. What is your song about?” Rurur asked.

  Montaron rubbed his palms. “A song I once heard, when I was still in the circus.” He said just a moment before beginning to sing.

  “Deep dark,

  Long large,

  is a way for a dwarf to walk,

  find your courage,

  at the end of the path,

  but stay strong,

  all the way ye pass,

  for in the darkness,

  lies the secrets,

  which are not,

  to be violated,

  ye are to be proved,

  all the way through,

  and there waits for ye,

  glory or doom.”

  Everyone found his voice strangely melodious.

  “Oh my… He can really sing!” Rurur spoke.

  “This is for sure a proper song for this moment. Who taught ye that song?” Olaf asked.

  “An old miner I once met in the circus” Montaron replied.

  Thuor broke in: “There are no more mines to be dug in here, the first miners found many jewels, gold and silver, then the eyes grew greedy, and for a long time many wanderers travelled here, there is nothing more to be taken here. No glory waits.”

  “I thought it was just a song about travelling in the darkness.” Olaf spoke.

  “There is still doom, it is always a possibility.” Torag added.

  The rock wall close to them was revealed to be carved by tools, not just made of crude natural rock, there were runes and many lines delineating dwarf hieroglyphs, ancient and already worn.

  “So ye say, captain, that all the richness in this huge cave are already taken?” Olaf asked.

  “As far as I know, though it is possible that some are still hidden around.” Thuor replied.

  “I guess many of these first miners ended up trapped down here… Ye know, now that I say this, what about that damn witch? Maybe she was one of the ones who came after treasures, and ended up passing the rest of her miserable life in this gloomy place. Maybe she was once a lovely lady, then darkness turned her into what we saw.” Olaf said

  “Lovely lady? Ye sure don’t know how to discern about women.” Rurur broke in.

  “Just because ye fell in love with Ganlia, ye now despises all other women.” Olaf spoke.

  “I did not… Well… To be frank she was quite of a beautiful one, wasn’t she?” Rurur replied.

  “Don’t worry Rurur, one day ye will find a lovely dwarf woman and so your loneliness will come to an end.” Olaf continued.

  Wind blew passing through them, coming from one of the many cracks in the rock along the passage.

  “Where does this damn cold wind come from?” Torag asked.

  “If I’m not wrong, we are getting near the breach, a gap in between two mountains, there is a bridge there, outside, we will leave this mountain and enter another one.”

  “Some pure air to breath then.” Olaf spoke.

  “We already did the most difficult part. Soon we will enter the Steel Fist domain, there my friends, will be heat, a heat of a different type ye never witnessed.” Thuor spoke.

  The wind became stronger and colder, now their capes stirred in the air, and they could even feel some ice passing by them. From a distance, they saw light, the cave gradually became lightened, revealing how big it actually was. During all the travel, except for in some sporadical occasions, the dwarfs could not realize how large was the cave gap they were passing through, but now they saw, so big was the gap that even being lightened, it was difficult for the best of their eyes to distinguish the ambient around, like Torag noticed. They finally went out of the mountain.

  “Here we are!” Thuor said as he stepped outside.

  Now they could see, the mountain where they were ended and ahead was another one, they left by one arch, well carved and adorned on the rock and stepped on a bridge. The other arch was right ahead, giving entrance to the other mountain, continuing the path. But in between these two entrances, the dwarfs stood on the bridge, feeling the cold wind of the winter morning, seeing the mountain range around, so immense that they could see nothing more than peaks. Above them a blue sky with many white clouds, a bright beautiful sight for everyone. But the real surprise was when, coming from the entrance right ahead, two figures showed, through the darkness they came, and as these came closer, the dwarfs realized that they were known friends.

  “Altar and Kalish! What a strange surprise.” Olaf spoke.

  “Greetings! My friends!” Altar said.

  Kalish smiled as he waved.

  “I’m not sure about what to say now. Should I first tell how glad I am to see ye both here? Or should I ask how ye came, and what are ye doing here?” Thuor asked.

  “Oh you think you are the only ones to wander?” Altar asked. “There are many things to do in this world, my dear dwarf, and they must be done by many ones. Anyway, I saw four dwarfs leaving towards The Narrow Passage, now there are five.”

  “Yes!” Torag exclaimed as he approached. He slapped Montaron’s back so hard that it made him step ahead. “This is Montaron! Witch hunter! Thief! Vagabond! Liar, and the best company one could ask for!”

  But Montaron was now staring at Altar with a shy smile on his face, as if recognizing him from old memories long forgotten.

  “What?” Torag asked, visibly confused.

  “I think Montaron is remembering, me, from somewhere, right, Montaron?” Altar asked.

  “Yes… I remember ye…” Montaron replie
d.

  “Oh I see you kept the gift I gave you, the pair of gloves. I hope you have made a good use of them, I mean, in the right way.” Altar said.

  “So ye met before? Wait! It was ye, Altar! Ye hired him for robbing! This is odd! I could never imagine such a thing about ye, old one, though I must recognize that was a dirty thing... Worthy of a real scoundrel.” Torag spoke.

  “You do not have sapience enough for understanding many things Torag. Why don’t ye keep quiet?” Altar asked.

  “Allow me to insist in this. Why don’t we ask Montaron here what he thinks about falling in a trap and being captured and kept as a slave for a long time, due to a wrongly done deal?” Torag said.

  But Montaron did not answer, he kept looking at Altar’s eyes, as if both had something in mind that only they knew about.

  “Ye know what?” Torag continued. “Nevermind, this is not of my business. Anyway, what are these gloves about? One thing is for sure, the hands wearing them are the faster, trickier, slippery ones I’ve seen in my life. This small fellow can open a lock in the blink of one eye!”

  “I know…” Altar spoke. “Montaron for sure has special skills with his hands, sagacious skills for sure. But when using these gloves, oh, this is when he can open a lock in total darkness, and without any key.” Altar said.

  Torag looked at the gloves on Montaron’s hands and reached for one of them abruptly. “So is this your secret? A pair of magic gloves that turns ye into an even better thief? Heh, nasty.”

  “The right tool on the right hands, master Torag, this is it.” Altar said.

  “Yes, ye are the one who always brings gifts.” Torag continued. “What about giving us more of that good beverage ye have, Attitude. Ye know, one never knows when it will be necessary to take an Attitude about something.”

  “Not for you, Torag! Ye better learn better means before asking for something like that!” Altar replied. “Now back to you, my friend Montaron, did ye found useful the pair of gloves I gave you?”

  Montaron nodded as he undressed the gloves from his hands and reached them to Altar.

  “Oh, no, no! They are yours! I told you! I’m not asking for them back, keep, it’s the payment for the service you provided.” Altar spoke.

  “What was there inside that damn coffin at all? I’m not getting that conversation of ye!” Torag exclaimed.

  “Did not ye just say this is not of your business, Torag?” Olaf asked, breaking in.

  “All right, this is the most suspicious conversation I have heard in my entire life, I’ll leave it for ye.” Torag spoke as he distanced himself.

  “Where is your dog?” Olaf asked to Kalish.

  “Nanuk? I had to leave him in another place, but he is fine, if this is what you want to know. Nanuk could not follow us till here.” Kalish replied.

  “Where ye came from? From the underground ahead?” Thuor asked.

  “No. We did not came from there, we came from up.” Altar replied.

  “From up? Ye mean flying?” Olaf asked.

  “Yes, we know how to fly. Actually we’ve known it since long ago.” Kalish said.

  “Show me!” Olaf exclaimed.

  Now Kalish came to the border or the bridge and pointed down, the dwarfs came close and looked to see where he was pointing. There was a strange thing, something like a wooden boat, but tied by many ropes to a balloon; the entire thing was tied to a nearby rock.

  “This is our transportation.” Kalish said.

  “So this thing flies...” Spoke Olaf.

  “Yes... With some help from hot air. And it can be guided too, by air rudders, but this is something complicated to explain now.” Kalish replied.

  “So ye came flying? And why ye reached here?” Thuor asked.

  “We herm...” Altar muttered. “We were waiting for you.”

  “Waiting for us? Why?” Thuor insisted.

  “To check how well you were. There was something else too, we found it wise to have a stop, to avoid, encounters in the air.” Altar replied.

  “Encounters… So it seems this gadget can fly and even be directed, but it can’t avoid threats.” Torag said, getting back into the conversation.

  “Yes… In the air we were easy prey, so we decided to have a break, and wait for some haze to cover the sky again, it would be safer.” Kalish spoke.

  “So ye saw the Warlock.” Thuor added.

  “Huuum…” Altar muttered, looking up and around. “One flying on a beast, who else could it be? The point is, we are safer down here for now. But if it was him, then I guess he did not come for nothing, there must be some interest. And I’m starting to guess…”

  “Fine. Now tell me, how much time ye waited for us?” Thuor asked.

  “Some days! Well… Some days, yes. But it was comfortable enough for us inside the cave there.” Kalish said as he pointed the arch entrance ahead.

  Torag and Rurur came to the border to examine the balloon, they were curious about it, while Thuor and the others kept talking.

  “Why ye came to this part of the mountain range?” Thuor asked.

  “We are still tracking.” Kalish replied.

  “So now the Warlock comes to this part of the lands? Guess what are his deeds.” Thuor said.

  “We saw him, if it was really him, flying on the east, towards the Coal Lock House, and the Golden Peak, were you are going to.” Altar spoke.

  “What could he want there?” Thuor insisted.

  “That, my friend, is what we are trying to understand.” Altar said.

  “How many can travel in this thing?” Asked Torag from afar.

  “Two, and some load. More than this and the balloon would not lift.” Kalish replied.

  “An army attacked the Thick Beard city.” Thuor said.

  Now Altar had a surprised mien. “An army! An army you say! What kind of army?”

  “The kind one doesn’t expect. Blood orcs from the inner deeps of the Vulcan Mountain.” Thuor replied.

  “But these creatures can not form an army! How could them…” Altar was saying when he suddenly stopped and looked at Kalish. “If it is the way you tell… Then, we are on the verge of something big.” He continued.

  “Something big has already happen. They attacked the Thick Beard city, coming from the underground passage, armed with weapons and armor, an army worthy to be under the command of a great general.” Thuor added.

  “And who was this one?” Altar asked.

  “We could not find him, it was like they were acting under a greater will, but there was no one there to command them.” Thuor replied.

  “I think I saw it, in a dream, though I’m not sure.” Olaf broke in.

  Altar turned to him. “Another dream, Olaf? Tell me.”

  “Death coming to us, not by the hand of anyone else, but death itself… If was as if we all were to fight death, to avoid him touching us.” Olaf replied.

  “What about the Warlock?” Altar insisted.

  “He was not there… But his presence could still be felt, like his will was at charge over everything.” Olaf continued.

  “That is it, Olaf dreamed about the orc attack.” Thuor spoke.

  “I don’t think so.” Altar said with a sinister voice. “Orcs are living beings, but Olaf talks about fighting death itself…”

  “Maybe he dreamed about the death of us all, oh my… What am I saying?” Rurur asked to himself.

  “How much death was in that dream?” Altar asked.

  “Too much…” Olaf replied. “Much more than needed to kill us all! Enough for everyone… But I’m telling ye, I did not dream about people dying, it was about death coming to us!”

  “What kind of dream was that? Why don’t ye tell us what exactly ye saw while ye were asleep?” Torag asked.

  “I don’t know damn! I can’t remember any story or fact, it is just about perceptions and ideas…” Olaf said.

  “More like a prediction than a dream.” Altar said as he stepped away, looking down, stroking his bear
d, he walked from here to there, slowly, merged in thoughts.

  After hearing so much about death, Torag remembered about what the genie told him, that in the end of the journey death would meet them, and that made him concerned one more time.

  “Listen you all. Nothing can be concluded with precision.” Altar suddenly spoke. “But I have my guesses now. As I once told you, this Warlock is something from the past, and he should not be here, his presence in this world of the living ones is unnatural. An old king of the eastern men, now nothing more than a slave of a bigger will. A master even more evil than himself, who set him on a task in the west. Still this Warlock is here! Why? Because somehow he has his own deeds, maybe even beyond his masters orders. My senses are telling me that the seeds he has been planting here grew an evil tree, and he is now gone.”

  “Gone?” Torag asked. “You mean he left?”

  “Yes.” Altar spoke. “Last time we saw him he was leading to the west. I believe he is now engaged again in the task his master gave him.”

  “But then what is this all about? Why he came here?” Torag insisted.

  “I think he made his own disciple… Someone to act in the eastern lands while he himself is involved in another task in the west. Someone to continue what he started.” Altar said.

  “But… Who could that be?” Torag asked.

  “That is a good question, something I would be lying if telling I knew the answer.” Altar replied. “Guesses are possible, but spreading words in the air now is more dangerous that it seems, better be quiet, and not wonder too much.” Altar replied.

  Kalish approached Thuor. “What about your travel? Did you do well? Did you do it in safety?” He asked.

  Now Rurur broke in: “That depends on what ye call safety.”

  “Yes, we faced some dangers, including that big creature, The Sinister.” Thuor said.

  “What is this about?” Altar asked as he came back to the conversation.

  “The Sinister, this is how we heard they called him. A big, muscular creature, I would say, part demon, part man, part ox.” Thuor added.

  “But you should not come to meet him! This is getting even stranger! Old legends and things long forgotten come to life!” Altar spoke.