by Alan Mundle
'TORBIN!!!!!'
The scream from First Mother broke what little strength the young Dwarfling had. The last thing he was aware of was vomiting all over the stone floor before falling into darkness.
*****
The memory hit Torbin like a blow to the gut. Standing in a frozen room beyond all good sense was one thing, but what he saw on Borin's back was nothing short of world-changing. He remembered the nausea that engulfed him as a Dwarfling threaten to retake him. He looked at his poor dead friend, his eyes locked on the scarring that covered every inch of his back. What was most remarkable to the Dwarf was the form of the scars. As a Scholar, he was always praised for the power of his memory, and at that moment, it took him right back to that day in his home. He could smell the blood in the air as he did when it covered the room all those years ago. He was very grateful when Akabin broke the silence in the room.
'Not what you were expecting, Commander?'
Torbin didn't answer. The childhood memory continued to play back in his mind. Finally, he lifted his head toward the Healer. 'Can you tell how old some of these scars are, good Healer?'
'Some, the more brighter ones are recent. The faded ones on the other parts of his body are decades old. He obviously started his conditioning at a very young age.
'I don't understand, what is all this Torbin?' asked Soraba.
Lost in the moment, Torbin had almost wholly forgotten Soraba was in the room. He looked back towards his love who was looking completely at a loss of what was happening. 'I'm not sure. Good Akabin, tell us quickly what you see here.'
The Healer regarded Torbin with a quizzical frown. 'Surely as a Scholar, you've heard the rumours too, Commander. Dead Dwarves from all over the Nations have been examined by Healers and have found these marks, from the highest of Nobles to lowly commoners. The scars on their backs and legs are said to be done from the same instrument. No Healer that I know of has had a chance to truly examine them properly, for each is removed promptly by city guards, from both the local authorities and by the Empire itself. It is said that these Dwarves are all agents of the Separatists.
The very word made Torbin twitch. Of course, he had heard of such things, particularly at BlueStone University. His adventures to the campus mead halls with his friends included many drunken nights, telling tales of the mysterious scarred Dwarves. Some said that it was a curse that befell those who strayed on the surface too long. Some said these strange Dwarves were part of some crazy fraternity bent on starting a rebellion against the Empire, the wounds being some part of an initiation. As he had never seen these bodies before, Torbin never made any connection between them and what he had witnessed as a Dwarfling. Until now. First Father, he thought. Why? But Torbin knew he couldn't afford to think about this right now.
'We must go. Good Akabin, let me be clear on what is going to happen now. You will put this body away that none might find it, especially the Regent and her First. You will command your fellow Healers never to come into this compartment again until further notice. Hopefully, that will keep the rumours from spreading long enough to deal with the current catastrophe. You are clear on what to do when the time comes?'
'Aye, Commander. May Sapphire protect us.'
Once armoured, Torbin and Soraba left the Healing Cabin. Of all the things to happen today, this was just too much, but Torbin struggled hard to keep it all together. Borin was his most trusted friends since arriving at the prison. The smuggler had more or less taken care of a young Dwarf who didn't know what way was up or down when he arrived. He tried desperately to think of some explanation for his friend's injuries, each as ludicrous as the next. He didn't know which thought was giving him more trouble, that Borin was one of the so-called 'Separatists' or the insane possibility that his First Father could even be connected to such a movement. The very thoughts didn't fit in his head. But he might be able to find out. He had initially planned to head straight for Dalara, but he and Soraba had to make a quick stop first.
*****
The door was locked. Torbin didn't expect any different. With these troubled times and the Regent there with her Warriors, all expedition members secured their cabins. One thing all Dwarves were was possessive. If his suspicions were right, Borin had to be one of the most paranoid that his private things should go missing.
He left the cold room in the armour of the First. Akabin helped Torbin put it on while Soraba had the remaining food. Putting on the armour of the First without permission was a high crime, but Torbin thought it would be the least of his problems if he didn't act soon. When they were ready, Akabin wished them the luck of Sapphire, and the two Dwarves left the cabin. Though they got some strange looks from workers and guards, no one was going to get in the way of a Frist Warrior. They reached their first stop quickly.
'Keep watch. This won't take long.'
Soraba obeyed while Torbin worked on the locking mechanism. So much simpler than that of the maximum security cell, it was hardly worth the effort. The door hissed open, both Dwarves quickly making their way through the heat field. On the way there, Torbin had wondered what his friend's cabin would look like. With the contraband that kept appearing in his possession, he expected clutter and lots of crates stacked up to the ceiling with bottles of mead and food. He was amazed to find it the emptiest cabin he had ever been in. Too empty, he thought. It barely seemed like Borin, or anyone else ever lived there. Torbin knew there must be another cabin somewhere in the tunnels packed with all manner of good stuff. Whoever finds it will be a lucky Dwarf indeed, he thought. The two lovers looked around for what they could find, Torbin taking the main living space and Soraba the washroom. Nothing. They looked everywhere and couldn't see what Torbin highly suspected was there.
Soraba came out of the washroom as Torbin looked behind the coverings chest. 'Nothing.'
Torbin turned to face her, and his boot hit the side of the chest. Torbin immediately stopped in his tracks when he realised that the base of the chest was hollow. 'Help me,' he said.
Soraba took the other side of the chest, and together they moved it to the centre of the cabin. Torbin took off his gauntlets and examined the base. His fingers ran around every side of it when a panel at the back pushed inwards. It was not Rune tech, Torbin immediately realised, but a simple mechanism that lowered the back panel to reveal a hidden compartment. This alone sent Torbin's feelings where he did not want them to go. He felt around inside, and his hand grasped what felt like a small cylinder. He pulled it out of the chest and held it up for both of them to see.
The silence was palpable. Torbin stood up for what seemed like forever, looking at the small object before taking it in both hands. He twisted the object where there was a grove in the middle. A thin, needle-like blade appeared out of the top. Torbin's knees started to shake, he nearly lost his balance, but Soraba was watching intently and caught him. 'What's wrong? What is that?' she asked.
He answered quickly. 'I've seen this before.' He looked at her strangely for a while before he said, 'It doesn't matter now.'
Though nothing could have been further from the truth. He knew there was no time to dwell on it, but the sheer impact of what this small instrument meant crashed through his head. It was precisely the same. He was only a young Dwarfling when he had seen it the first time, but the memory of that day was permanently carved into his brain. Never before had Torbin been in so much trouble with his parents, nor had he been so scared. The sight of all that blood was the most potent part of that memory, but he still remembered the small cylinder that dropped from First Father's grasp upon seeing him at the slumber room door. He had passed out soon after, but his strong memory could still remember every detail before he fell. He later woke in his room and found First Father sitting in a chair beside him. He made Torbin swear that they would never speak of what happened. He remembered wanting to ask so many questions, not least of which included if Rafarin was alright. He could see the physical pain in his eyes. Like his brothers and sister, he was always ta
ught to respect pain, as it forges Dwarves into stronger people. But he still thought the pain he saw his First Father in was nothing short of insane. But he respected and loved his First Father and swore to obey. He remembered as he got up to leave through the door, the back of his covering was stained with lines of blood. Today, looking at the cylinder in his hand and what had happened to Borin, one terrible thought went through Torbin's mind like a siren. They are both Separatists!
Borin being linked to those Dwarves was one thing, but even the implication that his First Father was too made his head thump. Like Torbin, the Dwarf had spent his whole life dedicated to the advancement of today's Dwarves society through Rune Tech, advancing their way of life through the incorporation of Magic into their society. Even if he was a Separatist, why would he encourage Torbin through his young life to become better at it than he was? Little was known about them or their agenda, but it was clear from the reports he had seen that they did not approve of surface living, having left the rest of their people when all the Humans, Elves and Griftins disappeared, digging further into the earth to find another home. They refused to use Magic, so why would Borin and First Father employ it in their daily lives with their families and friends? The most pressing question for him as he held the thin instrument was why they felt the need to torture themselves so grievously.
'Come, we're leaving,' said Torbin. He put the cylinder in one of his belt compartments and put his gauntlets back on. After they had both replaced their helmets and activated their Runes, they proceeded out of the cabin. His head was scrambling, but Torbin knew it was time to get more answers he knew he wasn't going to like.
Soraba walked in front, appearing to be in Torbin's custody. While he was reasonably confident he could pull off the appearance of a First Warrior, he knew he would be in trouble if another of the battalion approached him directly. They made it most of the way through the facility safely. He looked around and saw his Dwarves at work. He knew they were suffering. Most were having trouble lifting their equipment. Canara was obviously keeping them on long shifts to keep their strength at a minimum. For the first time, Torbin truly feared his plan would fail. But his course was set, with no turning back.
*****
They arrived at a cabin in the far north of the facility. They were in luck. No guards were posted at the door. Torbin leaned in closer to Soraba.
'Are you sure she's in there?'
'Absolutely,' said Soraba. 'It's her new laboratory.'
'Good. Stay out of sight until I enter.'
With that, Torbin knocked on the door. When he got no response, he tried again. And a third time. A fourth. Finally, the door opened on the fifth attempt. Even through the heat field, Torbin could see that Dalara was in poor health.
'What business brings you here, First?'
There was deep tiredness in her voice, but Torbin didn't care. He passed through the heat field and kicked her, sending her tumbling backwards to the rear of the cabin. Soraba quickly followed and shut the door behind her. Dazed, the Professor looked up from the ground and recognised the other set of armour walking above her.'
'Soraba? What is the meaning of this? Why is this First Warrior in your employ and treating me thus?' Torbin took off his helmet. Dalara's legs gave way and the sight of him and hit the deck again. 'Torbin! Is it really you?' He watched her carefully, sensing both feelings of fear and also joy. He didn't expect this. The professor ran up to Torbin and hugged him with everything she had. 'Sapphire be praised! She has brought you back from across the Void. She has sent you back to exact her vengeance!'
Soraba ran up and pulled them apart. Whether it was jealousy or the absurdity of the situation, he didn't know, but Torbin’s lover didn't trust their betrayer. Nor did he. Soraba held her back, her axe raised. Offering no resistance, Dalara knelt on one knee and bowed her head. 'If you have come to end my life, I welcome it. At least it will end my suffering.'
Torbin walked up to Soraba and put a gauntlet on her axe. 'Hold. I have questions for her.'
CHAPTER 22
REFUGE
It is said that a Dwarf is never more at home when he is close to the Great Rock. In recent days, despite all that was happening, Rafarin had discovered this to be true. In the absence of his own study, he had walked the halls of Lord Castin's grand home and finally found somewhere he could be alone with his thoughts. The generous Lord had his own balcony overlooking Mordabinn city. Like all Nobility, their homes were large, tall towers. From this view, Rafarin could see everything, from the tall buildings, the dwellings of the common folk, to the massive courtyards full of Merchants and Smiths conducting their trades. Castin's tower stood on the bank of the river of lava that separated the Noble dwellings from that of the rest of the city, joined together by three massive bridges. The bright golden flow was often called the lifeblood of the Dwarves. While providing light and heat for all who lived there, it would always be the city's primary source of power and wealth. Smiths, Nobles and Commoners lined up on the banks of the river, using the lava to heat their forges. Over the years, the Dwarves of old fashioned an irrigation system that allows the superheated rock to flow through the streets and power mechanisms to allow all to go about their daily lives. Since the founding of the Nations, many of these old inventions add been replaced by modern Rune Technology. But despite their good fortune over the years, they were still Dwarves. They honoured those that had come before them and kept many of the old inventions alive in everyday life. Right now, Rafarin was simply grateful to be beside the lava flow.
The heat below enveloped him, and he basked in it. When he was sure he was alone, he opened his coverings to feel the heat on his bare chest. Despite all that his family had accomplished through generations of living in BlueStone city, he knew in his heart this was the way a true Dwarf was meant to live.
'I see you found my favourite place.'
Rafarin spun on the spot to find Lord Castin, watching from the great double doors of the balcony. Feeling slightly self-conscious, he began to do up his coverings as he bowed. 'Forgive me, My Lord, I didn't hear you approach.'
'Peace, good Rafarin, I offered the hospitality of my home to your family, and you are more than welcome to enjoy both the view and the heat. May I join you?' Castin approached Rafarin while undoing the front of his own coverings. By the time he reached the ledge, he had thrown them on the ground and was topless. He leaned over the balcony to let the heat embrace him. Feeling more at ease, Rafarin reopened his shirt. He could see that Castin was the model Lord. His muscles were strong, the product of a Warrior's upbringing and Noble expectations. But it wasn't the quality of Castin's strength that made him suddenly freeze colder than anything the lava's heat could melt. He regarded the Lord's naked back. It was covered in so many scars, he wasn't sure if there had ever been a time when it was smooth. Some of them were fresh and recent on top of others that were so old that he must have received them from a very young age. Castin saw Rafarin observing him and smiled. 'I thought it was time we truly introduced ourselves, brother.'
Rafarin started to feel the strength leave his legs and had to use the balcony for support as he looked on the Lord's scars. Seeing them made the old ones on his own back sting. 'I wasn't sure that any of our movement would dare to find me,' he said.
Castin smiled. 'We look after our own. Once I heard what was happening to you and your son, I sent word to the head of our Order, and they bid me come to you and your family's aid.'
Rafarin was in awe of the Dwarf standing before him. 'You risk everything, not only your own family, but the Order as well by taking us in.'
Castin laughed. 'Maybe so, but we do what we must when the stakes are high. Besides, your son's accomplishments have not only put your family in such high esteem with the Empire, but with the Order as well. Besides, the opportunity was too good to miss. Yes, Darina knew all too well that her Regent had gone rouge the moment she learned what had become of your home. She didn't have a choice but to play along for the sake of
the security of her society. By forcing her confession to the people, the Empire has been significantly weakened, both in power and influence. The best part is that honour demands that she takes no action against our families, as all I've done is expose the injustice she had a part in, willing or not. Rather delicious, wouldn't you agree?'
Rafarin could barely take what was happening in his head. The mention of Torbin on top of everything else that was happening was starting to make his head spin. 'Please, if you know what is happening to my son, by the Great Rock, please tell me!'
Castin's face darkened at these words. He bade Rafarin follow him to an ornate stone bench. When they had sat down, Castin looked at Rafarin ominously. 'Yes, my brother, it is time you knew everything.' And so the tale began, from the initial plan to rescue Treygen, what happened the moment Torbin fell through the ice, the finding of the almost forgotten Griftin, the relationship that had grown between his son and one of the expedition guards and the actions of Regent Canara. 'Our contact in the prison reports that as soon as the Regent arrived, she wasted no time in trying to take Torbin down. The two of them challenged each other for control of the prison and to decide what to do with the creature.'
