by David Pauly
Golbur nodded. 'Fair enough, lad. But if we are to speak frankly, then let us go somewhere absolutely private, away from my Dwarves and your Shadows.'
'Do you have such a place in mind?'
'I do. We shall repair to a small private workshop that I own nearby.'
Golbur led him out of the tavern and down a narrow side street, where the only sounds were those of the forge, the whoosh of bellows, the clang of a hammer on metal and the hissing screech of glowing metal quenched in water. The smells of hot iron and burning coal were everywhere, and Alfrahil was relieved when he was led through a small shop where Dwarves were laboring over gold and silver. Golbur led him to a large wooden door at the back. The Dwarf Lord took out a long, ornate bright steel key and opened this door, gesturing for Alfrahil to descend the stairs in front of him, the way down lit by small smoky torches.
Alfrahil descended a dozen stairs, finding himself in a small workshop, cold and dusty.
Golbur came down the stairs behind him, lit two oil lamps, and, in the yellow glow, said, 'Now, lad, we can speak in private, where no one can overhear us.'
Alfrahil asked, 'What news do you have of the ambush Golbur; that you would not pass on to my father and his ministers?'
'Are you questioning my honor? Do you claim that I was less then forthright with my answers to Lord Mergin's questions?' demanded Golbur gruffly.
'No, Lord Golbur, just—'
'Peace, lad, I am only jesting. You are right. We did not report everything that we knew in our message to your father, but for good reason. I had the preliminary report from documents located in that joy house of yours. It seems your brother is one of the owners of that house, and that he has financial dealings with Minister Zarthir.'
'I did not realize Daerahil was part owner of the joy house, but, knowing his habits as I do, and his friendship with Zarthir, I cannot claim to be surprised. Anything else?'
'Lad, we also found receipts for goods purchased from Dwarves and Elves. Mostly clothing, but some bows and arrows from the Elves, and a very expensive receipt for an item referred to as 'the curled steel,' which we believe to be Dwarven in nature. But we can't determine precisely what it is, save that it cost a fortune. Also, there are indications that other Dwarven engineers have been quietly contracted by Zarthir and some of his friends, though regarding what we do not know. Therefore, I have to look into my own people to see if some of them are doing things that they should not be doing. Also, I do not know which men on your father's Council to trust, and even the Elves might be involved with this mess. That is what I did not tell your father yesterday, and until I have confirmation of my suspicions, the official position of the Dwarves will remain that we are continuing to investigate. I will ask high and low amongst my people and see what else I can discover for you. Now, do you have any news of your own?'
Alfrahil did not reply, but reached into his cloak and retrieved the grapnel made of a Platina alloy. This he handed to Golbur.
Golbur looked at it momentarily without recognition. Then, testing the strength of the slender tines and weighing it in his hand, he said, 'Gods, lad, where did you find this?'
'One of the ambush sites, is it important?'
'I have only seen this design of grapnel once, larger and sturdier. It was used once and only once in aiding our realm from a terrible danger, but those grapnels were soon melted down. I do not know who would have made this smaller version, but clearly this is Dwarven in origin. I will send secret messages to Nerea, the great Dwarf mines in the Icy Mountains, and to the Bastion. All I can say for now is that this was not forged in my realm of Edelhole. Clearly, here is proof that some of my brethren were involved at least indirectly in the ambushes. For that, I am most sorry. They will pay, never fear.'
'I do not doubt you on either score, Golbur,' said Alfrahil. 'One more thing: our metal smiths tell us that these grapnels could not have supported the weight of a Man without some kind of magical reinforcement. I do not ask for the secrets of the Dwarves, and I do not inquire into them, only inform you of what we have learned.'
'If true, that would be a most unfortunate circumstance,' said Golbur with a deep frown, returning the Grapnel to Alfrahil.
'Keep me informed of what you find,' said Alfrahil. 'But I will tell you now in confidence that there is also evidence of the involvement of the Lesser Elves.'
'What evidence?'
'A cloak of concealment, worked with Elven magic to make its wearer all but invisible. Some of the archers who attacked me were wearing them.'
'Elves and Dwarves, allied against Men—it makes no sense,' said Golbur, a perplexed expression on his face.
'That is why I wish to learn more. I would be grateful if you could find four Dwarves that you trust implicitly and send them to me. I may have a mission for them outside the City.'
'What kind of mission? Where will you send them?'
'I prefer not to say as yet. I must consult with my father first. But I sense that we may need their eyes and ears. I will let you know soon. But make certain that the Dwarves you choose have some skill on horseback and can get along with Elves.'
'Horseback!' cried Golbur. 'You know us Dwarves scorn the use of those cursed beasts, and despise Elves!'
'Yes, but surely you know some trustworthy Dwarves who are open-minded about horses and Elves.'
'I could find a few such Dwarves, I suppose,' said Golbur. 'I confess I am more curious than ever about this mission of yours.'
'All in good time, Golbur,' said Alfrahil. 'I must speak to my father, as I said; and to the Elves as well.'
'Whom among the Elves will you seek out?'
'I had thought to approach Ferox, King Albericus's nephew, who is occupied with the cleansing of Ackerlea.' Despite his father's insistence that he not speak with Ferox, Alfrahil knew of no other Elf that would be senior enough to give him valuable, yet unofficial, information.
Golbur rolled his eyes scornfully. 'Ferox is much occupied with Ferox. He fancies himself the Elf Lord of Ackerlea and the future King of the Lesser Elves, should Albericus ever suffer a hunting accident.'
Shaking his head, Alfrahil stated, 'I never knew worldly ambitions plagued the other races of Nostraterra besides us unfortunate Men.'
Golbur snorted. 'Who would think the crown prince of Eldora could be so naïve? All races are plagued by worldly ambitions, lad. Let me tell you of the Dwarves and one of our lords, Tillo IV. You wish to speak of ambition? Why, Tillo has set his ...' Golbur trailed off in a sigh. 'The internal politics of the Dwarves are not really relevant to the subject at hand. But to answer your question, I recommend that you seek out Hilforas, grandson of Delfin, the King's uncle. He is the leader of the Elven scouts and rides frequently between Ackerlea and the Great Forest. I believe he is near to Estellius now, your ruined river city. Unlike Ferox, he is said to be honest and true, with no interest in petty politics.'
'I thank you, Golbur. I will seek him out. Now, tell me of you and your kin, for it is long since we two have spoken: how are things in Edelhohle?'
'Come and see for yourself, lad. Glad would I be to show you the wonders of my kingdom! There we mine gold and silver, and tend the Rainbow Gardens of Stone. Ah, if you could be see the great chamber there! It is filled with stalactites and stalagmites of stone, great crystals, purple and pink, from the palest to the darkest shades, found nowhere else in Nostraterra. Smaller chambers exist that contain still more exotic crystals. One winks back at our torches with all the hues of emeralds, another with the tinge of sapphire. But all we see are the merest reflections, for the chamber openings are too small to allow us access. Dwarven engineers on pilgrimages from all other Dwarven realms supplement my own miners as we work to safely enlarge the openings of these Chambers of Wonder, as they are known, so that one day, perhaps in my lifetime, we can enter into these most beautiful works of our creator. In great confidence, because of our friendship, I will tell you of our efforts in Nerea, if you promise to not breathe a word of it to anyone.'
Slightly puzzled, Alfrahil agreed, and Golbur went on with his tale.
'As all know, Nerea was once our greatest city, our deepest, richest mine and ancestral home. Probing ever deeper beneath the earth, Dwarven priests awakened a Fire Demon whose evil power brought my people low. Thus was Nerea lost to us. And even now, a hundred years after the fall of the Fire Demon, there remains much evil there.' Golbur shivered slightly at the racial memory that had haunted the Dwarves for thousands of years. 'Fell creatures yet stalk the unremitting dark. Yet we have returned—yes, just as you Men will one day return to Malius and reclaim that foul city, so have we now reclaimed our home. Slowly we are draining the deeps and opening the passages that have been closed for so long.'
'That is wonderful news.' said Alfrahil, clapping the Dwarf Lord on one shoulder.
'Why, there are wonders yet to tell,' Golbur exclaimed with a laugh. 'We have found Platina, lad! Platina! A seam so rich it might never run dry. And what's more, we are beginning to mine Nerea for that most precious of metals for the first time in hundreds of years. Soon we will once again be exporting Platina to the free world—soon, but not yet, for we must first replenish our own stores and reacquaint ourselves with the properties of this wondrous metal. Should the darkness come again, it will be well to have weapons forged of Platina and walls made stronger by it—as are the gates of your fair city.'
'The darkness?' replied Alfrahil. 'The darkness was destroyed with Magnar.'
'Was it? Was it not darkness that nearly struck you down yesterday in the narrow, twisting streets of Titania?' Smiling grimly, Golbur went on. 'The oldest of Dwarvish legends states that the darkness will ever return, lad, until the day that Elves and Dwarves call each brother. And while I like many of the Lesser Elves that I have worked with over the years, there are few we would call brother today, especially since the Great Tragedy.'
'The mysterious Great Tragedy,' echoed Alfrahil. 'I know that something terrible happened a hundred years ago or so, but no Dwarf or Elf has ever spoken frankly to my father or to me about this all-but-mythical event.'
'It is no myth, lad.'
'My father has asked Dwarf Lords about it before, and Lesser Elves, too, and he has always been politely but firmly informed that it is none of his business.'
'Then I will share one more secret with you today, as a token of my sincere regret that any Dwarf may have been involved in yesterday's unpleasantness. Tell your father and Mergin if you must, but this must not become public knowledge. You must swear to it.'
'On my honor as the crown prince of Eldora.'
'Very good. Our troubles with the Elves began shortly after the fall of Magnar, at least according to the Priests of Parsifal.'
'Priests of Parsifal. I have heard of them, especially in the construction of the Great Gates, but I know little of them. How do they influence your realm?'
'The Priests of Parsifal are Dwarves who speak with the Flame Dancers, the magical fire spirits who give us our knowledge of metallurgy and of magic. Only the priests are ever allowed to see them, much less speak with them, if you can call it that.'
Alfrahil's listened avidly, saying nothing.
'Come, lad, didn't anyone tell you of the Flame Dancers or the Priests when you were studying at the Bastion?'
'I heard the name “Flame Dancers,” Golbur, but I never met a priest, much less saw a Flame Dancer. There were certain areas of the mountain, particularly the lower levels, where I was not allowed to go. I simply assumed that there were treasuries there that the Dwarves did not want to reveal. Your secular scholars were the ones who taught me your language, and I was not allowed to mingle with other Dwarves without their supervision. No one told me anything of your mythology or sources of magic, though I asked many questions.'
'The damn teachers did their job too well,' Golbur said. 'Though you know our language passably well for a Man, you learned a history significantly altered from reality. Apparently the Lord of the Bastion wanted to keep the divisions of the Dwarves quiet. He may have had priestly help as well in conspiring to keep this information from you. But see now where this has gotten us? Dwarfs involved in the quarrels of men. Bah! Listen well, lad. I'm going to give you a remedial lesson. This is a day it seems for the sharing of secrets.' He shook his head and chuckled, though there was little enough of mirth in the sound.
'According to myth, rumor, and the religion of the priests, the Bastion, the Sandy Hills, Nerea, and possibly the Ocean Range each has a great fire pit where molten rock from the heart of the earth bubbles to the surface. It was there at the dawn of our existence that we discovered the Flame Dancers, spirits of fire that come and dance amid the flames for a few moments and then return to the molten rock. Long ago, certain Dwarves learned to communicate with the Flame Dancers, or so they claimed. It was these Dwarves, the predecessors to the priests of Parsifal; that gave us the first secret skills to work metals. Skills to work stone soon followed; and magic to extend our lives long past their normal span were also given us.'
'Why do you say "claimed" when referring to these Dwarves and their communication with the fiery spirits?'
'Because, lad, unless you are a priest, you never get to see the fire pits, much less a Flame Dancer. Not even I, the Lord of Edelhohle, have seen the fire pits or the Dancers. The priests claim that the Flame Dancers whisper secrets to them. How, when, and why they will not say. The priests keep these secrets quite close to their chests, but once in a great while some new secret concerning metals, gems, stonework, and the like is given to us by the Priests. Much of the time, they keep their knowledge to themselves in order to maintain their power in the realm. It is only when they can profit from the disclosure of their knowledge that they share it with the rest of us Dwarves.'
'You said that you do not trust them . . . Why is that so?' asked Alfrahil.
'They preach and proselytize the superiority of Dwarves over the rest of the races of Nostraterra,' replied Golbur, 'demanding that we isolate ourselves from all others. Some of the priests are demanding that we stop trading with Men and Elves, and hide ourselves away in the mountains. They are growing more and more numerous and dangerous. I have banished them from my realm, and they have little influence in the Ocean Range, but they have become a power amongst the Dwarven people in Nerea, the Sandy Hills, and particularly within the Bastion. I fear that there will be conflict amongst my own people before the hills have grown much older.'
'Why have you not said anything about this to me or my father before today?' asked Alfrahil.
'Lad, your father may be the High King of Nostraterra, but his attitude toward Elves, Dwarves, and non Eldoran Men is difficult to endure sometimes. Many of us are concerned that he wants to take away the freedom and rights of the Dwarves. This is another reason that the Priests of Parsifal have become so powerful in playing on our fears.'
'That is absurd, Golbur! My father wants to pacify and control Shardan, Azhar, and parts of Hagar, but he has no designs on expanding the boundaries of our kingdom any farther than they were historically. Besides, we need the aid of the Dwarves too much, even if my father were so inclined, to risk alienating them. On this you have my word, both now and as the future king of Eldora.'
'Your word has always been good enough for me, lad, and it is a relief to know that these rumors of King Creon's thoughts are just that: rumors. I will send messengers to the other Dwarf Lords later today.'
'Were you really so concerned about my father's ambitions?' asked an incredulous Alfrahil.
'Aye, lad, to a degree. But now I suspect that the Priests are behind these rumors, seeking to cause further divisions in my people. Rest assured that I will expose this nonsense for what it is: nonsense.'
'But what has any of this to do with the Great Tragedy?'
'Listen and you will see. According to our ancient legends, a Great Fire Spirit lives far beneath the ground, providing the heat found below the earth. He it is that causes molten rock to spew from fiery mountains and springs o
f hot water to gush steam into the air. His children are said to be the Flame Dancers, and it was hundreds of years ago, long before Magnar came to power, that the priests of Nerea tried to control the Flame Dancers rather than just speak with them. They created a powerful spell and attempted summon the great Fire Spirit himself. Instead, his most powerful child, a Flame Dancer was transformed into a Fire Demon by the flawed magic of the summoning. Before you ask, I do not know how the priests could have had such power, but according to legend they did. Regardless, a terrible Fire Demon appeared from the fire pit, slaying all the priests within the sacred chamber. Soon, growing in strength, the Demon was able to do something that no other Flame Dancer had ever done: leave the fire pit for hours, even days. Swiftly the Demon slew the rest of the Dwarves in the deep mines, with the other Dwarves fleeing to other realms or wandering as refugees throughout Nostraterra.
'The Fire Demon, Baldur, enlarged the fire pit in Nerea and was able to prevent the Flame Dancers from visiting the fire pits in other Dwarven realms, keeping them under his control in Nerea.'
'How was the Fire Demon defeated?'
'For reasons known only to themselves, one hundred years after the fall of Magnar, the Lesser Elves sent their greatest Water Spirit, Pluvia, to the Mines of Nerea, and this Spirit descended into the Mines with her most loyal Elven followers. There the Water Spirit fought the Fire Demon and the Flame Dancers it had bent to its will. Eventually the Demon was defeated, but the cost was the life of the Water Spirit.
'Once the rumors reached us of what had happened we began assembling scout teams to verify that it was safe to return. These teams were primarily composed of refugees from Nerea—Dwarven males, females, and even a few children—and they confirmed that the Fire Demon was indeed dead. It was then that the Lesser Elves of the North Forest interfered, demanding recompense for the loss of their Water Spirit. The Dwarves of Nerea refused, and conflict broke out immediately. Who actually started the fight is unknown, but the Elves overwhelmed the Dwarves, slaying all of the Males, most of the Females, and even some of the children. This atrocity was reported back to Edelhole, and messengers were dispatched to the Bastion. Before we could dispatch an army to retake the mines, the Elves began looting the treasures of Nerea, and much gold and gems were taken back by the Lesser Elves to their Northern Forest. Thankfully, the armories containing Platina and our suits of enhanced mail were too deep to be discovered quickly. Once the Dwarven army arrived, more slaughter ensued, but now it was the Elves who were slain and driven out of the Mines.
