by Alan Mundle
CHAPTER 4
CELEBRATION AND MUTILATION
It was a struggle, but somehow all the expedition members and most of Lord Zentin's Dwarves managed to fit in the Command Cabin for the feast. All the work notes, the endless amount of tools and many Runes crates had been packed up and even used to make extra tables and chairs for everyone to sit down to their food and mead.
It was food like Torbin had never known. Coming from a middle-class family, he was no stranger to good food, but he had never had this quality before. He supposed that any food was better than the team's usual dried and vacuumed slop, but this was nothing short of paradise. The mead was also exquisite. The entire team was lost in a dream, thanking Sapphire and the rest of the Gods for blessing them, all raising their tankards in honour to them and Torbin.
Their new leader joined in the celebrations, revealing in the bounty before them. At least on the surface. While he couldn't bring himself to dash the immense joy his fellows felt after nearly a year of frozen hardship, he knew where it had all come from. Zentin was only two chairs away from him in deep conversation with Tenabin. Part of him despised every mouthful, knowing it was from the generosity of a monster that he would rather see on the end of a blade than let him harm a defenceless boy, his own blood. He made a point of insisting that Forin sit on his other side, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Zentin, who seemed extremely put out, but he too had to respect the situation and let Torbin have his way. 'Honour above All. That was Zentin's family motto, one that the fool had clearly abused... as well as his son.
What was worse, the fool got up with his tankard and slammed it on his table. It was time for speeches. 'Hear me, honoured Dwarves, hear me!' The room slowly lulled to hear the Lord speak. 'Who would have thought that in this place, chosen for its distance from the Great Rock itself, to be the place for those who defy the Empire and harm it's people, would harbour such life-changing glory, all of which is yours for the taking. Your deeds will have your names carved the Great Rock itself, and it will surely have you and protect you now and beyond death and glory.' Zentin turned to Torbin. 'Commander Torbin, Son of Rafarin, you brought this glory upon yourself, your team and all Dwarven kind. The Gods themselves will favour you in this life and when you return to the Great Rock. Though your trials ahead will be great, all our people will remember this day. By the authority placed on me as a Lord of the Empire, I declare you and your family among the Nobles.'
The whole cabin shook against the noise from Dwarves all praising Torbin. It was everything he hoped for and beyond, all his for the taking. He would take it, wave and smile to his Dwarves and try his best to leave the hilt of his sword alone.
'Speech! Speech!'
Torbin got up, and slowly the room turned quiet. 'My brothers and sister Dwarves, the Gods have indeed blessed me, along with all of you too. Our expedition has struggled and suffered in this forsaken place. But together, we have become strong. A worker is only as strong as the Dwarf next to him, and I thank Sapphire for each and every one of you.' All the Dwarves raised their tankards in honour of Torbin and Sapphire. There was complete admiration for him in all their eyes and none more so than Forin, who still showed signs of sadness. In that very sobering moment, the new Commander remembered his plan. He raised his arms to signify he was not finished addressing his people. 'There is one Dwarf I would like to honour tonight. One for without whom I and another of my team would surely be lost to the Void.' Torbin turned to Forin and raised his tankard to him. 'Forin, Son of Zentin, with strength and courage, you saved my life and that of Borin, Son of Benfordin. Your quick action brought me to this moment. Let it be known in the presence of my team and the Empire that my first act of Noble authority is to declare Forin my Second!'
For the first time in the evening, there was complete silence in the Command Cabin. Many of his team looked at Torbin as if he had too much mead, or they did. Lord Zentin stood up faster than lightning. 'You can't!' All eyes turned to Zentin, who looked like he was about to have a stroke. 'Forin is not, I mean he's... you can't-'
'He is within his rights, Lord Zentin,' interrupted Tenabin. 'A Nobleman can claim any Dwarf, Noble or otherwise as his Second, providing they choose to accept.'
Zentin had gone completely pale. Forin looked like he thought his father would kill him, and didn't really understand what Torbin had done. Torbin himself didn't like the atmosphere he created. He lifted the boy to his feet by the arm, spinning him to look directly into each other's eyes. 'Forin, Son of Zentin, as Commander of Void Prison and all who server under me, I use my Noble powers to bring you into my House as a brother in arms. My sword will be yours as yours will be mine. Our words and actions will be as one and should I fall in battle or in service to the Great Rock, you will take up my duties in my name. Do you accept this honour, my closest friend?' Torbin hoped he had got all of the speech right. He had read it in many books back in BlueStone University, but never dreamed he would actually use it. He wasn't sure at the moment what he was more nervous about, the fact that he might have got the speech of 'The Second' wrong or that Forin would mess the moment up by not catching on. The boy looked at him for leadership. Clearly, he didn't understand what was happening. Torbin did his best to maintain eye contact with him as honour demanded, hoping beyond hope that the boy would get the message in his face. But it was no use. The boy wasn't getting the hint. Whispers started around the cabin and Torbin could feel the moment losing its essence. He did the only thing he could. Back when he had first started to look after the boy, he used to make him smile by making his eyes circle in their sockets, something the boy found hysterical. When he was sure no one could see, Torbin risked doing it again. Almost immediately, Forin giggled and grinned from ear to ear.
At that, a Dwarf on the other side of the cabin started clapping her gauntlets, which started the others, many of them thinking it was better to stay on the right side of their new Commander. Soon the whole cabin was full of cheers, claps and slamming tankards. Relief flooded through Torbin as he embraced his new Second, fully aware that Forin was entirely no wiser of what had happened. He turned round to see Zentin sitting down, defeated. Torbin looked for whoever started the cheering. It was the same guard who had taken a fancy to him in the Healing Cabin. He raised his tankard toward her and saluted in thanks.
The feast went on through the night. Team members were lining up to get the Commander a drink or help him in some other way. Forin was receiving similar treatment. The young Dwarf didn't know what to do with himself, clearly he’d never had experienced any such treatment before. Good, thought Torbin. It kept his father out of the way. Torbin took quick and full advantage of this. He beckoned another Dwarf close and gave him orders to go into Forin's cabin and move his things into his own dwelling. It was the job of a nobleman's Second to stay at his side at all times until told otherwise. The sooner, the better, he thought.
It was late when all of the food and drink had disappeared. There was not a clear head in the cabin. It became one of the best nights of Torbin’s life. So many of his fellows kept topping up his tankard while asking him permission to become part of his House, but Torbin wasn’t easy to out drink and it was too early to be thinking of these things. Bids also came from around the room from the teams for him to marry either a brother or sister, but to Torbin's relief, Tenabin quickly stepped in to ward off such talk. As the old saying goes, never make a deal with a drunk Dwarf. As the night progressed, even thinking itself wasn't a good idea. When the hour was late, Torbin's fortitude broke and soon found himself being carried on either arm through the tunnels until they finally they reached his cabin.
'Go on, and I'll make sure he gets back in ok.'
The door opened with Torbin and his helper moving through the barrier. Torbin could feel himself being placed on his bed when his eyes started working again. His helper was none other than the friendly guard who watched him in the Healing Cabin, who was glancing around the dwelling, highly interested in everything. She moved ov
er to the worktable and looked at a painting standing on the top.
'My family,' said Torbin.
The guard spun to face him, only to find herself doing it twice, clearly as drunk as her leader. 'They ah... they look a good bunch, Sir.'
Torbin laughed, taking off his helmet, with difficulty. He started looking around the place. 'I think I remember ordering someone to get Forin's things. Is he here?'
'Yes, Sir,' the guard replied, a look of dismay across her face. Torbin couldn't help but smile. 'Well Sir, I'll bid you good night and may Sapphire keep you... though I'm sure she does.' The guard replaced the painting on the table and headed to the door.
'You know,' Torbin said as the guard was about to leave, 'all the time we spent in the Healing Cabin together, I never caught your name.'
The guard looked back. 'It's Soraba, Daughter of Artabin, Commander.'
'Well met, Soraba. My thanks for taking me back to my cabin.'
Soraba knelt to the ground before Torbin. 'It is an honour to be in service to my Noble leader.'
Torbin found it in himself to rise from his bed, walk over to Soraba and pick her up to her feet. 'You can stand easy Soraba, you were off duty hours ago. And for the God's sake, call me Torbin.' Torbin said this, still holding her arms, looking into Soraba's eyes through her visor. Torbin then took the guard's helmet off and dropped it to the floor. A head of short blond-brown hair sat upon a slender face with firm eyes. The eyes of a Warrior. Torbin ran a finger through the short hair while leading the guard closer to the bed. Strong messages were passing between their eyes. Soraba then looked to the side, hesitant, but Torbin brought her eyes back to his with his gauntlet, gently guiding her face. 'Don't worry about Forin. Once he's asleep, he'll stay that way.'
Soraba breathed with relief and replaced her fear with hunger. By the time morning came, it indeed was the best time Torbin had ever had.
*****
The door of the Command Cabin opened with teams of drunken Dwarves falling through it. Borin couldn’t honestly remember the last time he had drunk to such excess, but he didn’t care. The damage was done.
What a night! He could never have believed that his friend and new leader would reach such heights. The way he publicly shamed a Lord of the Empire became permanently etched into his memory. The thought of it all still made him laugh, even without the copious amount of mead he had drunk. He also managed, like so many others he assumed, to hide some of the Lord’s bottles for himself. And of course, make a tiny bit of profit. Many Dwarves hadn’t been able to attend the feast to maintain the prison systems and security. A well-placed bottle here and there would bring in both gold and some favours. He certainly wouldn’t be having anymore.
He slowly managed to pick himself and a few others up from the frozen floor. If they carried on like this much longer, they were in danger of losing their helmets and having their heads frozen. Such a thing would not do in front of a Lord and their new Commander.
‘Get up, you drunken slugs and get your rumps back to your cabins,’ Borin ordered while doing his best to stay upright. ‘We got a lot of work tomorrow, and I mean to impress our new leader. Now get out of here!’
Everyone slowly departed through the corridors, putting their gauntlets on the walls to steady him or herself. The way everyone laughed and cheered hard through the night, he suspected there might be quite a few who would return home to find his or her armour soiled. Borin started to make his way back alone. Despite the sometimes swaying corridors and a generous amount of belching, a thought was stuck firmly in the Dwarf’s mind. He had failed.
Torbin, who was his best friend in this place, had selected Forin as his Second. When the chaos died down, and the news of the celebration had spread over the prison, Borin was sure that his good friend would both need a Second and that the honour would undoubtedly be his. But no. Instead, his ‘friend’ had announced in front of nearly every Dwarf in the Wastes that Forin, that incompetent, the most hated, was given that coveted position.
On returning to his cabin, all Borin could do was think about when he might have made such damning mistakes to warrant being so blatantly cast aside. Since near enough the moment that the two of them arrived, he had set to work, not only on building the prison, but also making a wide variety of contacts by enticing them with his stash of contraband. Borin was meticulous, making sure no one knew where he was getting all these supplies from the mainland and past the guards, ensuring that he was not only popular but a good friend to those he had the ears of.
But Torbin was at on the top of Borin’s list of targets. A wealthy Scholar with a good food family who had likely never known a hard days work in his life was sure to miss all the modern comforts of the mainland. There were days when the two of them conducted their secret transactions that Torbin had been nearly in tears for not having eaten something that didn’t come out of survival packs that lined the walls of the Cooking Cabin. He gave the young Dwarf fresh meat and bread that many of the others would have gladly killed for. Given the chance, he was sure some of them probably would. Borin had always taken care of Torbin, giving advice, helping him on their work details whenever he had made an arse of himself trying to melt through more ice than the rest of them to show that he was more than capable of doing the same work they could. Once he had burned his way through all of his Fire Runes, forgetting to check their power levels. It was ‘lucky’ that Borin had been there. He had to risk the two of them being caught on the job, quickly replacing the Runes before Torbin froze to death. He had to bribe the third worker on their team to keep watch and not tell anyone of what happened. They had just enough time to get the last Rune installed before Tenabin had approached them to see why they had stopped their melting. At the sound of their old Commander’s voice, Borin stumbled forward and lent on Torbin’s body, claiming that he was out of breath and just needed a quick rest. He had just enough time to install the last Rune in Torbin’s gauntlet when Tenabin pulled the two of them apart. It didn’t take Tenabin long to deduce what had happened.
Borin had got a gauntlet to the head for slowing down the day’s work and a third of his dinner ration revoked. Torbin thanked Borin profusely and said that he would honour this debt for a long time. It was then that he was sure that he had Torbin in his pocket, that their shared respect would guarantee some big reward if the opportunity presented itself.
But no. Borin was left stumbling back to his cabin while Forin continued to sit at Torbin’s side, reaping all the glory. Did their friendship and the time they had worked together mean nothing? Obviously not enough, he thought. The injustice he had felt during Torbin’s speech at the feast made him clench his teeth so hard they could have broke. He praised the boy for being the one that had saved the day. Torbin had somehow managed to forget that it was Borin that had raised the alarm. True, he had been told to go at Torbin’s command, but he had the sense to activate his alarm to better call for help. Had he not done so, he was sure the creature would have killed his young friend when the rescue party failed to get down to the chamber in time with the Crawler. He tried to push these thoughts away when his cabin came into view.
Borin entered through his cabin door, passed through the heat field and sealed the dwelling shut. He slowly started removing his armour. Doing this alone was difficult at the best of times, and Borin tried as hard as he could not to fall over with all the mead flowing through him. When all his armour had clattered to the deck, and his coverings stripped off, Borin walked over to the other side of the cabin and looked at himself in his mirror.
What do you look like? he thought.
He stood there for sometime before finally walking over to a chest that lay beside his bed. He crashed beside it and tried to focus his eyes. He pressed a locking mechanism on the bottom of the chest to reveal a hidden compartment. He reached in and started feeling around for something. After a brief moment of banging and clattering, his hand reappeared from the compartment, a small cylinder and a small box in his hands. He crawled
in all fours to the middle of the cabin and clumsily made it to his knees and opened the box. Inside lay a small clump of soil and a stone that he grasped and put to his head with both hands. And he prayed.
‘Oh Great Rock, forgive me. Forgive me for my sins on this day that are too many to count. Forgive me all my excess, for I have gorged myself in the nest of evil. Though I do so at your bidding, I ask that you forgive this day that has blackened my soul beyond any other time. Forgive me, Great Rock, for not winning the favour of Torbin, Son of Rafarin. Though my position is not secure, I will stay with him and
continue with the Great Work with my every breath. I pray that you still accept me back to the Mountain and that my soul should strengthen your might. Oh, Great Rock, hear my prayer.’
Borin took the stone from his head and placed it back in the box. He tried his best to stand up with the cylinder in his right hand. Secure on his feet, he looked back to the cabin’s mirror. He held the cylinder with both hands and considered it. He ran his finger across the cold surface to the groves in the middle. He gave the rod a quick twist. A small blade, barely a centimetre in length and two millimetres thick emerged from the top. He held the blade towards his back and looked in the mirror before stabbing himself. He withdrew the tool from his naked flesh and felt the blood pour down his legs and onto the decking.
‘No sleep tonight,' he thought.
CHAPTER 5
BLADES AND MAGIC
Work commenced the next day with some severely battered heads, everyone shrugged off their hangovers and worked twice as hard for their new leader. A permanent, highly secure passage to the chamber was being constructed to facilitate travel down to the creature. Torbin spent hours down there, examining the Griftin which, according to reports, had not moved from its winged cocoon since last night. He ordered the First Battalion to take position around it, to be ready at the first sign of trouble.
