by Leo deSouza
“We came all the way through the underground passage, my lord. We expected to reach this house and count on its receptivity and safety, for we are on a quest, demanded by King Frar himself. We are traveling to the Golden Peak, to ask for advice from the Wise One in his white tower.” Thuor said.
“Hum… Advice. Could ye tell me what is this advice about? Gorduro asked.
“It is about strange events happening in the east, our land. Strangers coming here and causing many sorts of problems.” Thuor argued.
“Be precise!” The prince spoke.
“Fine.” Thuor continued. “A warlock entered our lands to the north, and he left a trail of death and fear behind him.”
“The Warlock! He is for sure an intriguing figure, isn’t he?” Gorduro asked.
Now Thuor looked at him surprised. “Do ye know about him?”
“Of course I do. Do ye think that the eyes of the Steel Fists are blind? We know about this one. Why do ye think we are preparing?” Gorduro continued.
Thuor asked, confused: “Preparing? I’m sorry but I could not see much about…”
“Ye saw warriors in armor and weapons.” Gorduro interrupted.
“Are ye preparing to defend the city?” Thuor asked.
“Defend! Yes! But as ye might know, attacking is the better defense!” Gorduro argued.
“Attacking? But my lord, who are ye going to attack?” Thuor asked.
“Hum… That is a good question. Ye came from the underground passage, from the Red Star City, ye say.” Gorduro spoke.
“Yes.” Thuor replied.
“Then ye must have crossed with the main reason why I’m taking such providences. An orc army! Armed with weapons, and they had enslaved lava trolls! Ready to destroy our homes!” Gorduro said.
“The orc army? It reached the Red Star city much time ago, we were there when they attacked.” Thuor replied
Now it was Gorduro who looked surprised. “They attacked the city? What was the result of this battle?” He asked.
“Yes, my lord, they did. Though we don’t know how it ended, for we left before the end of the battle.” Thuor replied.
“And who was at their charge?” Gorduro asked.
“We found none, it was as if they were acting by themselves, though as a chief of arms I know a big army cannot organize alone.” Thuor replied.
“Yes! Ye are right about this, they can’t!” Now Gorduro seemed confused, as if not knowing what to say. “Hunf… This is a new report I would like to study a bit more, anyway, what are your plans now?” He asked.
Thuor began to mistrust the Prince. “There are also many important things I would like to report, not that I’m disputing your authority but, talking to the King would be the best thing to do.” He argued.
“Ye think so? Why? Why should ye talk to the King himself? Why not to me?” Gorduro asked. “Talk to me! I’m the one, here and now!”
Thuor nodded while in his corner Torag chuckled and shook his head.
“Yes, my lord.” The captain said in humility, but not losing his honor. “We saw many things along the path, we had encounters with dwellers in the darkness, some of them were quite unfriendly. We heard stories about the Warlock influencing the forces that dwell there.”
“My order now is to find and finish him at once, all the Steel Fist guards are ready for this, and we even have a special garrison preparing to leave after him.” Gorduro spoke.
“Allow me to tell, my lord, that this Warlock is not someone who can be defied so easily.” Thuor argued.
“Easily?” Asked Gorduro. “I don’t think ye know the might of our elite warriors, nor their sagacity.”
Thuor nodded again, noticing that the conversation would not be worth pursuing. “There was also that gigantic creature, part spider, part scorpion. We met him just before entering your kingdom.’ He spoke.
“Karabohr? We know about him too. But this has nothing to do with any Warlock. Part of the cave ground collapsed, and it released some old creatures, like the one ye talk about now, some that lived in even deeper parts of the mountain, far from our eyes. But we are going to deal with him too, later. For now, the door is closed, to avoid any problems.” Gorduro spoke.
Now it was Torag who broke into the talking. “Excuse me, noble sir, but let me ask ye, just for the sake of acquiring knowledge about your mighty military forces. How do ye plan to deal with this one?” He asked.
“The way we find better. Which could mean cutting all his legs with our blades, or maybe exploding his entire den and burying him again, now at once.” The prince replied.
“If ye say soo… My lord.” Torag spoke, quietly.
“And I’m glad to know that there is such a power to deal with the evil things in this world.” Thuor said. “Now, allow me again to ask ye about your father, and to tell ye a meeting to share a few words with him would be most appreciated by me.”
“My father is sick! He can not receive any visitors, nor would it be good for him to hear any advice at the moment! His mind is tired, and his body is failing! Oh, my father…” Gorduro spoke, visibly downcast.
Thuor gave up the arguing. “Well then let me ask ye for permission to leave the stronghold towards the eastern exit, we want to take the path to the mountain peaks.” He said.
“Permission to leave? I’m not allowing ye to leave now! There are armies marching around! Strangers entering our kingdom! Sickness, plague, lies… For now ye are my prisoners! And so it will be, till I change my mind! And ye, Thuor RockFoot, ye come with me, lets treat about matters of importance!” Gorduro spoke.
The captain began to say something: “But my…”
“Enough!” Gorduro interrupted. “There is no reason to worry, ye are safe inside here, and for now your fate depends on my will, my benevolent will!” He left the room.
Thuor came to his partners.
“What now captain?” Olaf asked.
“I’m having a bad feeling about this.” Thuor replied. “The prince talks about war, but he does not even seem to know what is really happening.”
“Will ye follow him?” Rurur broke in.
“I will try to contact the King, but the permanence of us all here is not necessary, and we must reach the Golden Peak… If at least there was a way for ye to leave, I could stay and deal with things here… For now, all we can do is be patient.” Thuor said. He came out of the room, the guards locked the door.
“What was that?” Torag asked. “That arrogant brat just jailed us? After all we passed? Hah! This is most outrageous, I would rather prefer facing all the dangers we met before again than dealing with such a prepotency! ”
“Thuor will talk to the King, all is left for us is to wait.” Olaf said.
“Just wondering…” Torag continued. “The Thick Beards got us stuck in their house, now the Steel Fists do the same, it seems like the so called friendly houses are not exactly what we were expecting for!”
“It is not the same thing.” Rurur replied. “The Thick Beards did not get us jailed, they just prevented us from leaving, and the Queen was right, she knew about the imminent danger!”
“He is right.” Olaf broke in. “These Steel Fists are keeping us jailed, and something tells me that this is just for the sake of a proud prince to show his power.”
“The little prince, did ye see his arms? Wonder if that lad passes all the days doing body exercises.” Rurur said.
“Right, let’s stop complaining and find out something to do with our time here inside.” Olaf spoke again.
Now Rurur took from his backpack the board game they had been playing since they left their stronghold, the dwarf set it on the ground and sat. “Anyone willing for a match?”
“I’m not for games now…” Torag said as he one more time began to examine his gems. “Joining these with the ones we got from the maggot lair back in the desert, I could say we gathered a good fund for when we go back home.”
“Could ye please stop talking and wondering about gems an
d richness Torag? Is that all ye can think about?” Rurur asked.
“Let me enjoy this! I remember when ye and Olaf talked about being paid for all the dangers we came passing through since we left home! Don’t judge me!” Torag replied.
“It is different now.” Rurur spoke.
“That’s what ye think…” Torag continued. “I remember the old days when I worked hard in the mines to find beauties like this, and when I did what happened? They took it all, for the King, for its glory, they said. But not this time, old Torag here got his own goods by self effort, no one can reclaim it.”
“Whatever.” Rurur said as he twisted his mouth. “So Olaf... What about a match?”
Olaf was trying to arrange himself over his backpack on the ground, finding a good position to rest. “Oh no… Not me, not now… All I need now is to get some sleep and forget about all this… Wake me up when something really important happens.” He said as he turned his body to sleep.
“Yes, yes… Like if a good match is not something important…” Rurur spoke. “What about ye, Montaron? Do ye know how to play this?”
Montaron came and sat on the ground, on the other side of the board, he was looking at the board game like a curious child.
“Good.” Rurur said. “It is quite simple. I will be the attacking army, ye are the king and his loyal champions. All ye need to do is, to cross the entire board with the king piece, protecting him with the champions around, while I try to kill the king with my own warriors spread on the board.”
“How it kills?” Montaron asked.
“How it… Oh, it is just like any other board game. Let’s play, the best way how to learn a game is playing it!” Rurur exclaimed. “First move is mine!” He said as he moved one of the pieces on the board.
Torag was watching all, smiling. “He did not get it.” He said.
Montaron moved one of his pieces on the game, then looked at Rurur, as if expecting him to play.
“Ye see?” Rurur asked to Torag. “He is smart enough, he paid attention to what I said, guess it is only ye who is fascinated with gems inside here, Torag.”
Torag just shook his head, turning his attention again to his gems.
“Hey Montaron.” Rurur spoke. “Tell me more about ye, not about all the misfortunes ye got into after leaving your home. But about yourself.”
“Yes.” Montaron replied, looking at the board game. “What ye want to know?”
“About your early life, your family.” Rurur continued.
Montaron did not reply, he kept looking at the board game for a moment, then finally spoke: “Father died, mother raised me alone, no brothers, no other relatives.”
“I see, it must have been a hard time till your mother raised ye a grown dwarf!” Rurur said.
“She did not. She died too while I was still small.” Montaron replied.
Now Torag’s attention turned to the conversation.
“That is quite unfortunate, my friend, so I guess someone took care of ye.” Rurur argued.
Montaron shook his head. “I was alone, living near the coal furnaces, got work there, fed myself.”
“Was it there that ye found your small companion? That weasel.” Torag Broke in. “What is really its name? I forgot it.”
“Ribs, yes, we came to meet in the coal furnaces.” Montaron said.
“But where did he come from? These creatures live in the woods.” Torag argued.
“I don’t know, he just showed up. We became friends.” Montaron replied.
“Hehe…” Torag chuckled. “I know what ye mean, Montaron. I also have an animal of mine, a companion like yours, though of a different type. Balfour, my hawk, and now that I tell about him, I remember how I miss my flying mate.”
“Balfour must be safe on a perch in our home, Torag, don’t worry.” Rurur spoke.
“Yes, he must… Anyway, Montaron, why this name? Why Ribs?” Torag continued.
“When I found him he was skinny… Dying by hunger.” Montaron replied.
“So skinny that it showed his ribs.” Torag spoke.
“Yes.” Said Montaron.
“I wonder how ye managed to find him food while fighting to feed yourself.” Rurur said.
“Ribs needs just a little food.” Montaron replied.
The small weasel came out and showed himself, as if responding after hearing his name being said so many times.
“Well Montaron… This is how life is… Some of us face many difficulties, some others are born in gold cradles, but one thing is for sure, it does not matter the pieces ye have but how ye play.” Rurur continued.
Right after he said it, Montaron made a hit on the game.
“Ha! Smart one, ye learn fast!” Rurur said, joyful.
The more the time passed, the more the dwarfs calmed their tempers and became used to the ambience. Olaf was now snoring loudly as he slept, Torag had cleaned all his gems and hid them again in the chest, now he was busy with smoking his pipe, interleaving his focus in between his own thoughts and occasional looks at the two playing dwarfs sitting in the center of the room. Rurur and Montaron kept playing many matches, and the novice proved smart enough to be a real challenge. The ambience inside the room was hot, but still comfortable, the Steel Fists had a sophisticated skill in building ventilation though the halls and rooms of their stronghold. At this point they had completely lost the sense of time, not knowing if it was day or night, but outside the Vulcan, the sun was already set, and night was at its half. Only after a long time passed, a guard entered the room, bringing a large serving dish, filled with much roasted meat and bread, he brought too a small barrel of beer and cups, so much that the dwarfs inside the room found it surprisingly generous. All the dwarfs gathered around the food, except for Olaf, who kept sleeping.
“At least they know how to serve a meal.” Torag said as he saw the guard put the dish in the center of the room and leave again.
“It was about time!” Rurur exclaimed in a harsh voice.
They hurried to begin eating and drinking, and they found everything quite tasty.
“This is not that bad at all, they serve us like guests, not prisoners.” Rurur said as he bit a rib. “Should we wake up Olaf?”
Torag looked at the sleeping dwarf. “No… He sleeps so tranquil that it would be a crime to wake him up now, let’s just leave some food for him.” He said.
Montaron ate quietly alongside his weasel, the small animal was being fed by his owner with small pieces of meat right in his mouth.
“What do ye think that is happening outside right now?” Rurur asked. “I mean, I thought captain Thuor would come back to us sooner.”
“I have no idea.” Replied Torag as he bit a piece of meat. “But we all heard him, we are wasting time here, and there is no real reason for us to be kept jailed like this. Would be good if we could leave, and leave the captain behind, he would deal with things here while we would advance towards our final destination.”
“Yes.” Rurur replied. “It’s most stupid to keep us here like this.”
Torag was now looking up to the ventilation duct in the ceiling. “Do ye think we could cut these bars?” He asked.
T he rebel princess.
Thuor was inside the barracks with Gorduro at his side, there were also some warriors, preparing their armors and weapons.
“These are the finest warriors of all the East!” Gorduro spoke.
The captain looked out, noticing they had a different type of armor from what he previously saw. The warriors wore heavy armor too, but it had a different shape, it looked stronger and yet lighter, there were steel spikes coming from the plate surfaces, and their helmets where totally closed, leaving visible only their eyes of the dwarfs.
“What do ye have in mind? Are ye sending them to war?” Thuor asked.
“No, these are not regular warriors. This is my elite unit, Burning Blade, they are not numerous, but a dwarf like this can deal with many foes at once.” Gorduro spoke.
“And wher
e are ye sending them? As I told ye, milord, the orc army reached the Red Star City long ago. Now either they were defeated by the Thick Beards or they took control of the city, taking it back would demand a large garrison.” Thuor said.
“Yes… Now that ye came with news about the orc army, my guesses changed. You don’t know the result of the battle at the Red Star City… But whatever it was, a great number of orcs left the Vulcan, that means their den is unprotected. A good opportunity to find answers about all this.” Gorduro spoke.
“So are ye sending your elite warriors to the den of the blood orcs, to discover what has motivated their march.” Thuor said.
“That is it, captain.” Gorduro replied.
“Allow me to ask.” Thuor continued. “What do ye expect to find there, milord?”
“Finding out what is really happening! Ye say their army had no general, which means their leader is still hiding there somewhere.”
“Do ye know about this leader for sure?”
“As I told ye, we know many things. These orcs live in a den we know, but we never came to worry about them. Why should we? Now there is a good motivation for us to get there, and have a little talk with that orc leader… My father is sick, he can not rule by himself, so I’m going to act like he would like me to do.”
“Does he now about all that is happening?”
“The King is sick, his mind is tired.”
“What kind of sickness is he suffering from? Allow me to ask.”
Gorduro now shook his head. “We don’t know, not even our best healers could tell… My poor father is dying… And there is nothing I can do… I believe all the information ye have would be welcome, but nothing will be better than going in the den and finding out by ourselves. That is what the King himself would do, if he could.”
Thuor now realized that maybe this plan could provide many good results, and he knew these answers would be useful even for him and his enterprise of discovering about the Warlock. “Let me join them.” He spoke.
“What?” Gorduro asked.
“I want to join these warriors, and follow to the orc den.”
“Why would ye do something like this?”
