by Ian Rodgers
“I don’t understand why we need yeti dandruff or purest silver. I understand that thousand-year-old Shadow wood for my crossbow is necessary,” Dora remarked, “and also the silk from a Goldrift Spider for Jellik’s Meteor Hammer. But the other items?”
“Well, yeti dandruff is used in a special alchemical salve to treat frostbite,” I pointed out. “And silver is magic resistant.”
“I know all of that!” the half-orc retorted. “I’m just venting my annoyances right now!”
“Man, this brings back memories of when Lily and I were just starting off in the Guild, running fetch quests day in and day out in order to raise our rank faster,” Gaelin chuckled to himself in fond remembrance as he looked down at the list he held.
“Read out the whole list, please,” I asked Gaelin, who nodded.
“One pound of yeti dandruff. Eight pounds of powdered whetstone. Fifty pounds of purest silver. Twenty-five feet of Goldrift Spider silk. Two gallons of Stone Sipper saliva. One hundred pounds of Thousand-year-old Shadow Wood, organized into neat 2-by-4 planks. One hundred pounds of black adamantium. Four hundred pounds of Violent Coal.”
“Sounds like a lot. And where can we even find half of that stuff?” Dora wondered, before her eyes lit up. “Hang on, aren’t we near Chasm Hall? I’d bet we can find most of that stuff over there!”
“At least we have a convenient way to carry it all,” Gaelin replied with a grin, nudging me with his foot as he did so. I bobbed up and down in agreement.
“Yeah, that much is no problem!” I confirmed. “So, off to Chasm Hall!”
We hurried off down the path that mere hours ago Jor had traveled down. Instead of walking, though, we took advantage of our abilities to fly: Dora on her Witch’s Staff, Gaelin with his Shapeless Raiment, and me with my spells.
The legendary city of the dwarfs was quite the sight. It rested in the middle of a vast cavern, a fountain of lava spewing forth molten earth close to the entrance, creating a deadly moat around the vast green marble wall that defended the city. Huge pillars of smoke drifted out from countless forges; the place was a haven for smiths of all stripes, as well as the masons, jewelers, and countless other crafting professions that dwarves practiced.
The streets were lined with black iron fences, and paved with a strange, black cement-like substance the dwarves called ‘az’falt.’ Strange mechanical devices trawled the roads, hundreds of them creating winding lines of metal and fumes. Some had wheels, others were like fat metallic insects with dozens of legs supporting them.
And above it all was a huge pillar of stone that descended from the roof of the cavern down into the middle of the city. Runes covered the surface of the pillar, some of which were so large they were visible from the entrance of the tunnel that led to Chasm Hall. Others were so tiny they were invisible to the naked eye. Littering the surface, windows made of iridescent crystals dotted the pillar and looked out over the cityscape. This was none other than the famous Tower Palace of Kazuum. Here, the god of dwarves ruled over his subjects in the Aether when not in his palace at the Eternal Marble Mountain in the Heavenly Lands.
Indeed, Chasm Hall was a monument to the very existence of the dwarves. Even those from other worlds beyond Erafore journeyed to this place, for it was where the greatest masters of their respective crafts called their homes.
And Dora had been right, we’d been able to find nearly everything Grandor had asked for – and without paying for them! Flashing the badge made of black adamantium that had the Hollow Stone’s personal emblem upon it allowed us to defer payment.
‘No doubt Grandor will be receiving quite the sizable bill later on,’ I chuckled to myself. I then looked up at Gaelin who was leaning against a wall, panting slightly.
“Give me a moment,” he gasped out. Dora smirked at him.
“That was hilarious! I’ve never seen dwarves run so fast! If I didn’t know what they really wanted, I’d have been worried they wanted to dissect you!”
“The fact that they want to rip the armor off of my body, leaving me ashamed and naked in the streets is much, much worse!” he shot back, irritated.
“To be fair, they are blacksmiths, and Berserker armor is a rare enough sight even back on Erafore. Anyone would be interested in a prime example like your suit,” I pointed out, to which he merely huffed.
“Yeah, I know. Not often a relic like what I’m wearing sees the light of day,” Gaelin admitted. “Still, it doesn’t change the fact those smiths were very disturbing and far too persistent.”
“Is it really the Ar-Varian’s armor?” I couldn’t help but ask him. “I mean, I know it was worn by Hero-King Gregor before you, but…”
“Yeah, it’s true,” Gaelin said, looking down at a gauntlet with a far-off expression on his face. “Not something I, or even King Gregor, would want a lot of people to know. After all, one faction of the Divine Family’s church would want my armor and hail it as a holy artifact, and the other faction would try to brand me as a heretic.”
“Wait, why would they do that?” Dora asked incredulously.
Gaelin and I shared a look of surprise that our party’s Cleric wasn’t aware of the division in the church, but then again, she’d been in the Cracked Lands for a while. And before that, she lived on the outskirts of the repressive Partaevian empire.
“You see, there is a sect of faith among the Divine Family’s followers that claims the Knight-God himself is none other than the Ar-Varian, the founder of the kingdom of Varia,” I explained. “Legends claim he ascended to godhood with the aid of Cynthia herself after he was mortally wounded driving off the Void following the Great Calamity.”
“It’s mostly common among Varians,” Gaelin snorted in amusement. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to live in a kingdom founded by a deity?”
“I’ve never heard of this belief!” Dora exclaimed. “I mean, it sounds farfetched on the face of it.”
Gaelin’s expression twisted into one of contemplation. “Funnily enough though, it’s actually true. See, Berserker armor records the experiences of all users. Normally, that translates into me being able to copy and use the skills of previous wearers to some degree. I couldn’t ride a horse until I tapped into my armor’s stored abilities. However, whatever happened to the Ar-Varian in that final battle three thousand years ago stained this armor, for lack of a better word.”
“I saw his final moments. Snippets of the last battle against the Void. Witness the sun be blotted out by a swirling vortex of pure annihilation as friends and allies are killed one after the other by abominations from the nightmares of the insane,” Gaelin said in a haunted voice. “But I felt the impossible heat of the Divine energy Cynthia used to rescue him from death’s doorstep. I know for a fact that this armor was worn by a man as he ascended to godhood.”
“Holy-!” Dora gasped. She stared at the Berserker armor in awe, stars sparkling in her eyes. She poked it, as if she could try and feel the leftover divinity.
“Oi, stop that!” Gaelin demanded as she continued to prod the armor in various places. “You’re creeping me out! Argh, you’re just like those blacksmiths from earlier!”
“Sorry, sorry!” the half-orc giggled, though it was clear she wasn’t all that apologetic. She did retract her finger, though.
“I spotted a tailor while we were fleeing,” I spoke up, helping change the subject. I jabbed a tendril down the alleyway we’d darted into while hiding from the dwarves. “We could try and find the silk in there.”
“Good idea, Jellik. Come on, Gaelin, let’s go!” Dora said, grabbing him by the arm and doing her best to drag him with her. He groaned in despair but plodded along behind her. I just rolled ahead of them, leading the duo towards the shop I’d seen.
The tailor’s store was a low-key affair near the edge of the business district. Most of the crafting professions that didn’t use metal and stone dominated this region of Chasm Hall. Entering – which meant we had to duck under the short doorframe – we were greeted by a dozen d
ifferent styles of dwarven garb. A skirt-like style called a ‘kilt’ was the main type of clothing I could see, but a few others were there as well, ranging from human style trousers and tunics to flowing elfish togas and robes.
“Welcome to my humble store!” the proprietor said in greeting, appearing from behind a stack of bolts of cloth. “How may I help you?”
“We’re looking for Goldrift Spider silk. Twenty-five feet of it,” I explained, and the dwarf’s eyes widened comically when I spoke.
‘Ah, it never gets old,’ I snickered to myself.
“Err, I am sorry, but I’m afraid I am all out of that particular type,” the clerk said with an apologetic bow. “Is there perhaps any other kind you’d wish to substitute it with?”
“No, we need that silk specifically,” Gaelin said, and the store owner’s shock turned to awe when he beheld the stunning armor being worn.
“Oh, I see,” the dwarf said with a cough, getting his staring under control.
“Do you know anyone else who might be selling some?” Dora asked, and the tailor shook his head.
“You won’t find any Goldrift silk in the city, I’m afraid.”
“Why not?” I asked, and he sighed heavily.
“Goldrift Spiders only dwell inside of places with rich veins of gold ore. They feed on it, which is what gives their silk that lustrous gold color which makes it beloved by anyone who makes clothing. Not to mention it’s highly conductive of magic, and is stronger than many other types of silk in the world,” the tailor explained. “But recently, the nearest gold mine where the spiders used to dwell was attacked, and the gold ore plundered, forcing the surviving spiders to flee, and so far we haven’t found their new nest.”
“Who stole the ore? Perhaps they gathered some silk themselves,” Gaelin said. The tailor huffed.
“The thieves were a band of Dark Dwarves. And if you want to hunt them down and steal the silk back, be my guest! Nuisances at best, murderous bandits at the worst,” the dwarf stated. “The city might even give you a reward for wiping those scum out, curse them to the Deep Pit!”
“I see, thank you for your help,” I replied, bobbing about to mimic a polite nod. I gestured at the two, and they nodded as well towards the tailor before following me out. We headed back to our hiding place in the alley before speaking again.
“Dark Dwarves, huh? Wonder what those are like,” Gaelin wondered.
“Either renegades or some other sub-species of dwarves, most likely,” Dora guessed. “If they did steal from Chasm Hall, you’d think it’d try to hunt them down, though.”
“This is Gaeum, though. They could literally be anywhere. Hells, they might not even be in the Aether anymore! How can we track them?” Gaelin asked.
“I might be able to help with that.”
“By the gods the blacksmiths found me!” Gaelin screamed, jumping behind Dora and using her as a shield. “Dora, Jellik, protect me from them!”
“Calm down, Gaelin, it’s just one dwarf,” Dora said with a roll of her eyes. He coughed sheepishly as he saw that, indeed, it was just a single dwarf who’d come up to them. Though, to be hair, he was wearing the black leather apron indictive of a smith.
“I heard about a young man in Berserker armor, but I never thought it might be you,” the dwarf, who was thinner than most with a scraggly, unkempt beard, said to Gaelin with a shake of his head.
“Do I know you?” he asked, and the smith nodded.
“It was a while ago, but you helped me avenge myself and my craft, saving my soul which Bolos had stained,” the dwarf replied, and after a moment Gaelin’s eyes widened.
“No way! Is that really you, Rongold? I thought you died!” the halberdier gasped. “That explosion tore down half of his base and set the rest on fire!”
“I did die,” the smith stated matter-of-factly. We all stared at him, and the dwarf chuckled.
“Don’t you know that the Aether is also where countless souls come? Sure, they end up in one of the myriad Afterlives, but not always. My soul was in a bit of a Limbo state, since even though I helped destroy Bolos’ base and broke all of the cursed weapons he was selling, I’d still been the one to forge those damned artifacts in the first place,” Rongold stated. “But Lord Kazuum was kind and generous. In exchange for not being sent into the Hells, I will work off my sins here, in his city, by making weapons and armor used to hunt down and destroy my god’s enemies. It might not be as glamourous as working in the Monumental Domain of Heaven, but someday I will be free to go the Heavens for my reward.”
“So, just to be clear, you’re not a zombie or Undead wraith of some sort,” Gaelin asked. Rongold shook his head and the halberdier relaxed. “That’s good. Still weird to think I’d meet an actual dead person, though.”
“Honestly, about half the people you’ll meet in the Aether are likely the souls of mortals who passed on, but for one reason or another didn’t end up in an Afterlife. Either they ran away from their punishment in the Hells, had unfinished business they couldn’t let go, or just don’t even realize they are dead and this is their new existence,” the smith explained.
“That is an extremely creepy thought,” Dora said with a shudder. I myself wondered how many people I’d met were actually souls.
“By the way, allow me to introduce myself to your companions, Sir Gaelin,” the dwarf said, bowing slightly. “Rongold Heavyflint, certified Master Weaponsmith, at your service. I met Sir Gaelin when he snuck into the base of the pirate lord Bolos Stormbringer. He helped me redeem myself, something I shall never forget.”
“A pleasure, Mr. Heavyflint,” I replied. “Now, I hate to ask this after just meeting, but would you happen to know where we can get yeti dandruff, Shadow wood planks, and Goldrift Spider silk?”
“We currently have a shortage of the latter,” Rongold replied, affirming what the tailor had said. “As for the former two, your best bet would be the markets of Down. They sell everything there!”
“Ugh, that place,” Dora groaned in disgust. “Do we have to go there?”
“We don’t often deal with or stock lumber here in Chasm Hall, since we primarily use stone for everything,” the master smith apologized. “Down is constantly expanding, though, so they often have all sorts of building materials, both exotic and mundane.”
“Where are the Dark Dwarves who invaded the gold mine?” I asked. “We three can sneak into their base and steal the stuff back!”
“That’s exactly what I’m here for!” Rongold chuckled. “I was actually sent to find you on behalf of Lord Kazuum himself. If you take down or weaken the bandit’s base, he’ll let you keep all that you find for yourselves.”
He handed Gaelin a folded piece of parchment. “This is a small map of the surrounding tunnels. Follow the path laid out, and you’ll get to their base. Happy hunting! I hope to see you all again!”
Message and item delivered, he turned around and walked out of the alley and back into the smithy district, vanishing into the swirling crowd of dwarves.
“That was mysterious,” Dora said with a snort. She gave the parchment in Gaelin’s grasp a wary look. “How did a god even know we came here? Was it our Chosen One-ness or something?”
“Probably,” I replied. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Lord Kazuum was somehow able to tell our exact location while inside of his city. This place is, after all, his personal domain.”
“Mysterious are the ways of the gods, Dora,” Gaelin stated matter-of-factly. The Cleric rolled her eyes at him. “Take a look at this map, though.”
“Wow, that is tiny handwriting!” I noted, staring closely at the sheet of parchment. The map showing the way to the bandit’s hideout was written in bronze colored ink, with two spots, one marked red, the other blue. In order to cram all the information necessary onto the piece of parchment no bigger than a handkerchief the images were miniscule scrawls, and the words tiny pricks barely legible by human eyes.
I adjusted my sight so I could see things clearer
. The map looked like a maze, with tunnels and passages looping around each other. As for the marked locations, the one in blue was Chasm Hall, while the red spot had the dwarven rune for ‘enemy’ over it, which meant this was where the thieves were.
“It seems like the enemy’s base is near a lava flow. In fact, it seems that we have to follow a river of the stuff towards their hideout,” I pointed out, a tendril tracing the laid-out path.
“Sounds hot,” Gaelin said simply, and I nodded.
“Extremely. We’ll need to be careful. I know some anti-heat spells, though.”
“Same here,” Dora said. “When living in the Dreadlands, cooling charms and the like are worth a ton of gold.”
“Let’s get out of here, then, and do it discreetly,” Gaelin said, passing me the map, which I folded up and slipped into my Dimensional Pocket. “I don’t want to be ambushed by any more blacksmiths.”
Dora and I both snickered at him, but agreed with the plan and quickly left the alleyway and went towards Chasm Hall’s gates. We got out without any issue; in fact it was faster than entering, and the guards gave us knowing looks. No doubt Lord Kazuum had informed people about us and our appearance, so they would know not to bother us.
From there, we headed towards one of the many winding tunnels that surrounded the city. All of them connected near the front of the gates, but beyond that they spread out like the branches of a tree. Our destination was the one on the furthest left, surrounded by violet quartz crystals that poked out of the walls.
“Take the Purple Crystal Path. Follow it until you reach the Titan’s Teeth. From there, go right, using the Ignis Lava Flow as your path,” I said, reciting the instructions for the first part of the trip.
“Easy enough,” Gaelin said. He reached out and plucked one of the quartz crystals right out of the tunnel wall. Its purplish sheen was quite striking under the glow of our Dancing Lights.
