Pickaxe (A Buried Goddess Saga Short Story)

by Rhett Bruno

  “As we lay our King to rest, it is with great pleasure that I, Risent Clovefoot , present his heir, King Sorvin Cragrock,” he turned to face the young dwarf. He’d been a toddler when the digging started and now he was as tall as any dwarf. Still barely able to boast a beard, but now he had the plenty of room for it to grow in their new home.

  The new king made a strong speech, promising greatness from the clan’s new seat of power where no enemy could touch them. The body of King Andur was carried into the base of his statue and a stone was fit to close it up forever.

  King Sorvin weaved his way through the crowd. He took a moment to speak with each dwarf in turn, something his father had never done. Maybe it was guilt over what had happened to their last home, but Andur never mingled with his people after they’d left.

  Brike was as surprised as ever when the new king stopped before him. He fell to a knee, his old bones popping, and Sorvin smiled down at him.

  “Brike Sledgeborne, Jhaevin told me had it not been for yer strength and often-stupid vigor none of this would’ve been possible.” He laughed and Brike joined in. “Ye’re the only digger left who’d survived the Battle of Four Winds Hall to help us carve this new home for our wives and children.”

  The king bowed his head, causing the very air to flee Brike’s lungs. It was not customary of a dwarven king to ever place themselves in a position of weakness, no matter the circumstance. Maybe the world Brike knew was changing. So much already had.

  “I’m honored to have such a strong dwarf in me service. From this day forth, outside of these doors, the great tundra I’m told ye’re so fond of shall be called Brike’s Basin.” Those within earshot erupted in cheers.

  “The honor was all mine, me king. Although I am old and grey, me back hunched and me eyes dimming, I never seen anything more beautiful than the home we all built for ourselves.” His leg got sore from kneeling and he shifted his weight, causing the orb in his pocket to stretch his pants. “And let us not forget those who died to help bring this to pass,” he added.

  “A worthy notion. To our fallen kin! Give ye rest to the end. Once the end: ale!” More cheers rained down, and then the king himself helped Brike to his feet.

  The festivities carried on and the king continued on his rounds, honoring a few more worthy dwarves who’d come so far since the Cha’veil orcs invaded their old home. It seemed like a lifetime ago. After much merriment and plenty of drinks, Brike took his leave to allow himself a much-needed rest. But first, he sought fresh air and to look upon his favorite spot which now bore his name.

  He traversed the halls he’d only known when they were barely a meter deep, his old eyes following the winding vein of gold. He put his hand in his pocket and spun the orb in his finger-tips habitually.

  When he reached the oak and metal doors, he reached up and grabbed hold of the chain and gave it a yank. It still worked with the same ease as it always had, but his old bones struggled to pull it down. He let out a soft grunt and heard the doors begin to part.

  It was dark outside, Pantego’s twin moons already high above.

  Still, quiet and peaceful. He pushed through the snow, only stopping once he reached his favorite outcropping. As his bottom hit the stone, he breathed deeply. All those years digging their home, how was it that it still felt so good to be outside in the fresh air?

  “Dwarf,” a voice, cold and calculating, spoke from the darkness at Brike’s back. It startled him, nearly sending him reeling off the edge of the cliff into his basin.

  “Wh-who’s there?” he stuttered. Brike looked around, but he couldn’t make out anything but darkness and falling snow.

  “Did you think I had forgotten our deal? There is always a price.”

  “Polcrym?” The memories came racing back to him. That day out, on this very outcropping with the demon that felt so real. It’s been so many years since he’d heard the voice, that he’d truly started to believe he’d made it all up—driven mad by breathing in dust. “Ye’re real?” he asked softly.

  “I have given you your heart’s desire and now I will have my payment. Entrance.”

  The revelation hit Brike like an arrow to his heart. “It was ye?” He pictured the cave-in and all the dead, Genreel lying on a bed, drawing his final, raspy breaths. “Ye said nobody would be hurt. Ye promised!”

  “No one suffered at my hand, as promised! Mortal’s believed they could tame Baronhearth, and so life was taken. But now, your life’s work is complete and I will enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

  Brike’s spine straightened, his heart felt as if it had stopped in his chest. “What are ye—”

  “Entrance.” The voice resonated down the mountain side. Brike saw the beast forming before him, body veiled in shadow but for eyes like two roaring flames. He screamed as the demon rushed at him, and then it vanished within his chest, its voice sounding now as if it had come from within him.

  “Entrance,” it said again, but this time it was like his soul has spoken, and then his body was no longer his own.

  Thank you for reading “Pickaxe.”

  Brike’s story may end here but the world of Pantego is vast and ever-growing. If you dare, explore more of this fantastic world in Jaime Castle’s Web of Eyes, the first book of The Buried Goddess Saga.

  WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING

  "Fantastic world building and masterful prose. I hope to see much more from this literary partnership. Definitely a must read for fantasy fans." —Brian D. Anderson, bestselling author of The Godling Chronicles

  WHAT’S IT ABOUT?

  An ill king brings circling wolves...

  Knight of the Glass Kingdom, Torsten Unger, faces banishment unless he can find the Queen's treasonous brother and the fragmented piece of the Crown Prince's soul he's stolen. When the self-proclaimed “World's Greatest Thief,” Whitney Fierstone is imprisoned for a foolhardy attempt at stealing the King's crown, Torsten provides an ultimatum: Join him on an expedition to save the realm, or rot in his dank cell.

  With the kingdom at its most vulnerable, these two opposites, knight and rogue, serve as its last chance as they pursue their traitorous quarry to the cursed Webbed Woods. But if the pair is to withstand the mystery and horrors of the haunted wood, they must first put aside their differences.

  Purchase it here.

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  Jaime Castle is the pen name for Science Fiction authors Rhett C. Bruno (Random House) and Steve Beaulieu.

  Rhett lives in Connecticut with his wife and dog.

  Steve lives in Texas with his wife, two kids, dog, cat, and fish.

  For more, go to www.jaimecastle.com