“Some gateways appear old and unused,” observed Grum. “Except, notice the Alfheim gate appears clean, no dust on that gateway.”
“Your eyes are better than mine,” said Farling. “And now that you mention it, the Alfheim Gateway does appear to be in good use.”
“Well, the dwarves and elves were never friends,” observed Arastead, “but they were at least friendly. I suspect Jakobus has been visited by our friend, King Amaliji. Much as we are now doing, celebrating the opening of a realm. Even Thrymr and his sons have already paid homage to Jakobus.”
“Is it really necessary for Cormac and Frederick to visit and bring gifts?” asked Grum. “I mean, they have known Jakobus for many years. Perhaps, not as dwarf king, but they honored him since, and include him in meetings in Trondheim.”
Sihr interjected: “Yes, but including Jakobus in meetings in our realm is not the same as having your kings visit him in his realm,” he said. “As well, it is not just the king of the dwarves one must respect, but all the high dwarf lords as well. Protocol is something forgotten in Midgard. I just hope we are not too late and have not dishonored the dwarves.”
“Strange,” said Farling, “that practically all the gateways to the other realms connect to this great hall.”
“As far as I know,” said Arastead, “some realms do have their gateways placed all around their realm. I would guess that with the dwarf realm, as they do a great deal of trade, it made it easier to have all the gateways in one great hall.”
“Easier to guard as well,” said Grum.
“That too,” agreed Arastead. “I suppose they could have had a different gateway in each mountain, but somehow having all the gateways here speaks to me about how a dwarf’s mind is organized.”
Grum grunted noncommittally. “I just wish I still had my war hammer. These dwarfs could have shown me some fighting moves. Ho, looks like we are on the move.”
Farling, Grum, and Arastead fell in line behind Frederick while the Aarlund brothers and Conall followed Cormac. They made their way out onto a great ledge that overlooked a mountain range.
“This is an incredible view,” said Farling to his friends. He drew his cloak closer about him to keep away the cold. “I grew up in a small fishing village. These mountains, with their sharp peaks and snow tops, this is unlike anything I have ever seen.”
“It is impressive,” agreed Arastead as Peg his cat and wizard familiar also admired the view.
“All this cold just makes me hungry,” said Grum.
“What does not make you hungry?” asked Arastead.
“I am a growing boy,” said Grum. “I need to keep up my strength.”
“For once, I agree with Grum,” said Farling. “I need some food to keep away this chill.”
“We are going to travel by portal,” spoke Jakobus’s advisor. “King Jakobus has been travelling about his great realm and we are to visit him in one of the high dwarf-lord mountains.”
Frederick asked: “Does King Jakobus not have his own great hall?”
“The dwarf realm is unlike other realms,” replied the advisor, “as the king of the dwarves does not have his own mountain, and he does not live in a castle, or rule from one great hall. All these mountains are his and all the high dwarf lords are under his rule. There is no need for castles because the mountains are their own fortification.”
“Who would attack this realm?” blurted Grum. “I mean, they would need to be pretty stupid is all I say.”
“I think, Lord Grum,” said the advisor, the title surprising Grum, “you may not know the history of this realm.”
“I apologize as I do not,” replied Grum.
The advisor continued: “goblins and hobgoblins once lived openly in this realm. It is said the goblins lived in all the realms at one point but then settled here, in Nidavellir, as they too are expert miners and also prize precious metals and rare gems above all things. Eons ago, great battles erupted deep underground when dwarf and goblin miners met. There, the armies of both sides massed and fought in torchlight and darkness—for goblins fight in darkness, which is to their advantage. The goblin wars were legendary. I will need to end the talk there, however, as we are expected elsewhere and expected there soon. Do not fret, Lord Grum, as King Jakobus could tell much of those times.”
“I will definitely prompt him,” said Grum.
“Of that I am assured,” sighed Arastead as Farling grinned.
“Now, if you would be so kind,” said the advisor, “I need everyone to stand within the portal rune.”
Everyone did as asked. Arastead watched intently as the dwarf advisor performed the necessary incantations to activate the portal rune. Inwardly, he was surprised at the configuration of the portal rune and while he did not understand the dwarf tongue, he noted much of the incantation sounded similar, as if the words were spelled the same, just pronounced differently.
The familiar wrenching of travelling by portal rune struck everyone, and as the scene of the dwarf guards faded, the image of a massive forge surrounded by several old dwarves, swam into view.
“Welcome King Cormac, King Frederick,” said Jakobus.
Everyone was momentarily taken aback by the enormity of the forge.
“On behalf of the people of Aarlund,” said Cormac recovering quickly, “I celebrate the return of the realm of Nidavellir.”
Frederick bowed low. Said: “Although I knew you first as the owner of the Knights Stable, I greet you now as king, ruler of the realm of Nidavellir, land of the dwarves.”
“I am pleased,” said Jakobus gruffly but not without some warmth in his voice.
“Tradition dictates gifts,” said Frederick. “As our gift, we give you the sister spear to Gunghir.”
Jakobus blinked in surprise as he held the spear. “This gift is beyond what is expected, beyond what is required as a gift for the opening of a realm.”
“This spear was the only weapon able to pierce the bark of the Heart Tree,” said Frederick. “But piercing the bark was not enough to kill the tree, as the only way to kill a Heart Tree is to destroy its heart. It was Grum, blacksmith and warrior, using the enchanted hammer and Gloves of Strength made by dwarves, who struck the butt of the spear and drove it through the trunk of the tree, piercing the tree’s heart, stopping it.”
“Bathed in the blood of the wizards,” observed Jakobus, inspecting the spear closely. “Yes, the spear has changed since destroying the tree. I do not know what that means, but I hope it is a change for the better. Gunghir was Odin’s spear.” Jakobus tried but could not pry his eyes from the weapon. “By that weapon, he ruled Asgard. This is sister spear to Gunghir, so cannot rule Asgard, but is powerful, nonetheless.”
Sihr interjected: “In the books I have read, it is said the Valkyrie follows he or she who holds Gunghir.”
“Well, it is just as well that I have no aspirations to lead the Valkyrie or rule Asgard.” Jakobus handed the spear to an assistant. “Now, I have brought you to this forge for a reason. Each forge in each mountain has its specific use. Some are used primarily to make axes, some for shields, others for armor.” Jakobus pointed at the forge near where they stood. “This forge is for making weapons of enchantment. As agreed, when we met last in Midgard, dwarves will make an enchanted weapon as the other weapons were stolen.”
With a nod to the elder dwarves, they opened the dampers allowing air to rush in over the coals.
Jakobus held something aloft for all to see. Said: “Behold! The Book of Princore.”
Grum began clapping then stopped as no one else had joined. He shrugged, not caring, not embarrassed.
“This book,” continued Jakobus, “holds the knowledge of runes and bind-runes, those necessary to contain the magic of Yggdrasil and the Midgard Serpent, chaos and order, and hold them to an item.”
Farling watched as the elder dwarves moved fast, surprisingly fast, about the massive forge, adjusting valves, shoveling coal, and pulling on bellows. Even from where he stood, the heat r
olled off the forge like waves on a beach. Sweat began to roll down his forehead. He wiped it away absentmindedly, used to the heat from a forge. He looked at everyone else, and noticed they too were affected by the heat.
Jakobus said: “You may want to move away from the forge. Dwarves can handle this heat. It is said we were born in a forge, so this heat is as a kiss on the forehead from a mother’s lips.”
Farling and everyone took several steps backwards.
“I think I may lose some weight from all this heat,” said Grum as he wiped the sweat off his face.
“Well, we would not want you to get too skinny,” said Arastead, “Else you will need all your clothes hemmed.”
“And that I cannot afford,” said Grum.
And just when Farling thought the heat had become unbearable, one of the elder dwarves pulled on a large chain. His eyes followed the length of chain up to the ceiling, hundreds of feet above, and saw how the far end of the chain opened a sluice gate high above.
Sihr explained: “Water from the snow melt is stored in great vats high above. Jakobus explained to me on my first visit here how it works. The water will now rush down those pipes and will power those enormous bellows. We may want to stand further back else we might melt.”
Everyone did as Sihr suggested and stepped further away from the forge. And as everyone watched, the enormous bellows now slowly moved up and down, blowing a great deal of air across the already white-hot coals.
Grum asked: “How hot must the forge be to make an enchanted weapon?”
“As hot as the sun it appears,” replied Farling feeling the sweat appear on his forehead.
The enormous bellows rhythmically moved up and down in a synchronized manner. There were four water-powered bellows in total: the first squeezed all its air out across the coals, and as it began to draw air back in filling up again like a balloon, the next bellow had finished squeezing all its air out across the coals. And as the second one stopped, and began drawing air back in again, the third kept up the continuous rush of air over the coals, then so did the fourth. And as the fourth stopped, and began to draw air back in, the first now had filled with air and had begun blowing air across the coals again.
Sihr pointed. “See the elders murmuring near the forge,” he said.
“I do,” said Grum. “What do they mumble?”
“Murmuring, not mumbling, Grum,” said Arastead pointedly. “There is a difference.”
Grum shrugged, rolled his eyes. “Yes, I see the elders moving their lips,” he said.
Sihr said: “They cast a spell on the coals, ensuring that they do not burn out and turn to dust, but continue to burn hotter and hotter.”
Farling grunted. “So, there is more to a dwarf forge than one imagines,” he said.
“Indeed,” agreed Arastead. “This is no simple forge as we have in the Hive.”
Everyone took several steps backwards yet again as the heat became more uncomfortable.
“Arastead!” called Jakobus of a sudden. “Don this apron, gloves, and hood. It protects you from the heat.”
Arastead did as told and noticed an immediate cooling sensation as if the clothing was made of ice.
Jakobus bellowed: “Now, the Book of Princore is key to making enchanted weapons! Before we began, we placed a ring inside the forge.”
Arastead nodded, and petted Peg’s head as she perched on his shoulders. “You seem to be doing OK. This heat’s not affecting you?” Peg shook her head. “Good, because no one made you a small apron to wear for protection.”
Jakobus opened the Book of Princore. But instead of reading from the pages as Arastead expected, Jakobus tore out a page and threw it in the forge.
Shocked, Arastead demanded: “What are you doing!”
Jakobus allowed himself a small grin, as he leaned in close to Arastead’s ear. “It is a great secret of the dwarves,” he said. “Everyone assumes it is the spells written on the pages that create the enchanted weapons, but no, it is the pages themselves. Each page is enchanted and when burned in this forge with an item, that item then takes on the enchantment.”
Arastead nodded weakly, still shocked at the destruction of the fabled book.
Jakobus said: “The ring will be more powerful if you tear off pages as well and throw them in the forge.”
Arastead nodded again, and tore a page from the book, crumpled it, and threw it in the forge, still feeling strange about the entire process, but knowing Jakobus must be telling the truth.
“Now,” said Jakobus, “we must tear all the pages from this book, and even the binding must be burned as well. It is essential though that we burn each page separately, else those spells will not bind to the ring.”
Arastead and Jakobus took turns ripping a page from the book and throwing them in the forge. After what felt like an hour, but must have been much less, the book was empty. Jakobus smiled as he waited a moment for the last page to be consumed by the fire, then threw the book binding in as well.
Arastead watched as the intense heat of the coals consumed the paper in an instant.
Jakobus said: “Soon, Arastead, you will reach into the forge and pull the ring out. But do not worry, the heat will not harm you, and the ring cools immediately. When I tell you to grab the ring, you must do it as soon as I command. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
Pleased, Jakobus turned his attention to the dwarf elders as they murmured their incantations and spells that bound the spells to the ring.
“Now!” bellowed Jakobus.
Arastead plunged his gloved hand deep into the hot coals still amazed his hand did not burn.
Jakobus shouted: “You must find it quickly else the magic leaves the ring!”
Frantically, Arastead moved his hand further down through the coals that were quickly becoming like sand in his hand as the elder dwarf spells could only extend the coals for so long. With his heart pounding so hard he was positive everyone could hear it above the roar of the forge, his gloved fingers suddenly felt something. He tried to grab it, but it was difficult to pick up something so small with the gloves.
“Quickly!” cried Jakobus, worry evident on his face.
Arastead pulled the ring across the bottom of the forge, trying to find something that would help him better grab it. He pulled the ring up the forge wall and finally, out. With a huge sigh of relief, he held the ring in his hand. Grinning like some crazy drunk fool, he showed the ring to Jakobus, who also grinned widely.
Arastead held the ring aloft for everyone to see. Even above the roar of the forge, he could hear Grum’s voice cheering louder than everyone else.
One of the dwarf elders pulled a different chain shutting the sluice gate high above. The enormous bellows stopped immediately and the heat emanating from the forge plunged to a more manageable level.
Arastead and Jakobus walked back to the group.
Jakobus held out his bare hand. “The ring, please,” he said.
“It will not burn you?” asked Arastead.
“It is magic, it is now cool to the touch.”
Arastead shrugged and placed the ring in Jakobus’s hand.
Jakobus held the ring close to his eyes, turning and twisting it, inspecting it from all angles. By now, the dwarf elders had shut down the forge, and had gathered around Jakobus. He handed the ring to one of the elders, who inspected the ring closely. Each elder then inspected the ring and the last one handed the ring back to Jakobus.
Jakobus asked of the dwarf elders: “What say you?”
One of the dwarf elders shuffled forward. “Success,” he replied. “The runes and bind-runes from the Book of Princore are in the ring.”
Jakobus allowed himself a large smile. He faced Arastead. “Arastead, a gift for you,” he said.
“I do not understand,” said Arastead.
“There are powerful forces at play in the realms,” continued Jakobus. “If we are to level the battlefield, we must even the odds. You, Arastead, are special
amongst the new wizards. You, who have a cat as familiar are our best hope at harnessing the powers of Yggdrasil and the Midgard Serpent in any battle, physical or magical.”
“You think I may have to fight the Sorceress?” asked Arastead.
And Jakobus was silent for a moment. “We must prepare for any eventuality,” he said.
CHAPTER 19
The Hammer & Anvil Pub
At the Hammer & Anvil pub everyone gave the table at which four young boys sat as wide a berth as possible. When they entered and sat at a table, one of the owner’s daughters began to serve them, but immediately stopped due to an uneasy feeling, forcing her father to take over. Even he was put off by the four boys but could not really say why. Was it their strange appearances? Each one looked slightly like an animal: one had wolf-like features, another had the look of a bear, the third acted like a cat, and the last reminded the owner so much of a rat that he almost asked him if he wanted to order cheese. He was positive that the one boy who looked like a wolf was going to throw his head back and howl at the ceiling at any moment.
The owner dropped off their food order and noticed everyone began devouring their meal, except the wolf-like boy.
***
Liulfr growled: “I thought we would have found the assassins guild by now.” He nodded at Asbjorn, “Your children, the rats and mice, have heard nothing?”
Kees interrupted. Purred: “They must have all been eaten.”
Asbjorn punched Kees in the shoulder—hard.
Asbjorn, his voice accusatory, spat: “It is not like your cats have done any better. What, they were eaten as well? No, your children spend all day napping or cleaning themselves.”
Kees now hit Asbjorn hard in the shoulder—hard.
“That hurt!” cried Asbjorn as he grabbed a fork off the table.
“A fork!” laughed Kees, as he managed to grab Asbjorn’s wrist, stopping him. “Help me, please, I am so scared of a fork.”
Liulfr grimaced and nodded towards Beornheard, who stood, walked behind Kees and Asbjorn, put a hand behind each of their heads, and promptly knocked their heads together.
The Reckoning of Asgard Page 9
