by C. M. Carney
Gryph shivered at the idea. Guess I shouldn’t mention to dear old past-life-dad that I’ll likely never wear the stuff. Got too much human in me. He smashed his hammer against his breastplate. Would be fun though.
The deep rumbling of a massive horn blasted away the moment. The sound wave flowed over them and a grim smile came to Regveld’s face.
“It is time laddie. The Long Beards have summoned ye.”
13
Gryph followed Regveld up the main thoroughfare, surprised to see every one of the dwarf ascendant souls turned from their work to watch them pass. Apparently, the Judgement of the Long Beards was a big deal even to the oblivious dead.
As the two men passed the spectral dwarves put down their hammers and fell into line behind them. Gryph tried to gulp his nerves away but failed.
Regveld noticed his concern. “Be calm laddie and stay true tae who ye be. Ye are the right dwarf for this job. I know it, and I be yer elder, so ye know damn well I know me shite.” Gryph looked at the dwarf and saw nothing but warmth, strength and honesty. Regveld believed in him.
They reached the end of the long gallery, passed through the largest arch Gryph had ever seen and emerged into a circular room whose distant ceiling hid in the murk beyond Gryph’s night vision.
Ahead of them sat thirteen massive dwarves arrayed in a half moon. They were the size of giants and sat in large thrones of stone and iron. Most bore the long beards of their namesake, but among them were several females with long braids dangling from their temples.
Gryph saw movement to his right and saw Krovoor emerge from another archway. The huge dwarf wore shining silver plate mail and carried a long-handled hammer whose head was twice the size of any Gryph had ever seen. The man was a tank.
It was then that Gryph realized his perspective had changed. He was taller, leaner and more agile. He stumbled when he discovered he no longer wore the form of Mahlgriim, his dwarf past life, but was back as Gryph the El’Edryn.
With panic in his eyes he looked at Regveld. The dwarf returned his gaze with calm strength. “It is who ye be now laddie.” He spread his arms around. “Here, in the Heart of the Mountain, nobody can hide what they are.” If the dwarf was disappointed that ‘who ye be’ was an elf, he did not show it. Gryph was unsure he felt the same way. He’d come to feel like a dwarf.
As if sensing Gryph’s thoughts Regveld walked up to Gryph and poked him hard on the chest, right above his heart. “Being a true dwarf is not about being squat, bearded and handsome. A true dwarf is stalwart, strong, faithful and never surrenders. I’ve seen inside ye boy. Ye be much more of a dwarf than that pile of maggot riddled tubers, no matter how he fancies up his garb.”
“Thanks, Regveld.”
“Sure thing son. Now go kick this bastard’s teeth in.”
Gryph walked to the center of the chamber, reaching it at the same moment as Krovoor. The entire room shrank, drawing the thrones of the Long Beards closer. He moved closer to Krovoor, whose eyes would have cast fireballs at him had they been able. Hate filled the man, and Gryph knew if given the opportunity the scarred dwarf would kill him without hesitation.
Beams of light shot down from above, illuminating Gryph and Krovoor.
Gryph shielded his eyes from the intense light. Even though he was no longer a dwarf, his eyes had adjusted to the gloom after the unknowable number of days he’d spent in the mountain. He blinked away the spots to see the Long Beards had shrunk from their titanic size. They no longer glowed with spectral light, but were more impressive, more real.
Gryph nodded respectfully to the assembled dwarf elders who held their stoic poses as if they were badges of honor. He felt eyes on him and turned to see Krovoor. The dwarf zealot was glaring his hate at Gryph.
A thunderous boom drew both men’s attention back to the Long Beards and one, a woman whose grey braids reached to her waist, stood. Her eyes came to Gryph’s, and he felt every secret slumbering in his soul exposed, every lie he’d ever held close blurted aloud and, every false face he’d ever worn pierced. He shivered as she examined him but forced himself to stand firm and hold her gaze. A moment later she turned her gaze on Krovoor and Gryph exhaled. Until that moment he’d been unaware he’d been holding his breath. He stole a glance at Krovoor pleased to see that the bitter dwarf was faring no better.
“Brothers and sisters,” she said in a voice that was both strong and sweet, and reminded Gryph of his tough as nails grandmother. "Krovoor, son of Dangmaar, has called on the Long Beards to decide the future of the dwarven people.” She looked at every one of the gruff and grim faces that surrounded her waiting for each one to nod. Once they had she turned to Krovoor. “Krovoor of the Bloodbane Clan, the Long Beards will hear your claim. Step forward and speak the truth of your heart.”
Krovoor smashed the butt of his hammer onto the stone floor, its boom echoing out and back. He gave Gryph another hateful look and stepped forward. “Blessed fathers. Honorable mothers,” Krovoor said, and Gryph thought he heard the briefest twinge of disapproval leak into his tone on the word mothers. “I come before ye to warn ye of the greatest danger facing our people since the days of the Ruin.” Krovoor did not turn to Gryph, but the player felt the ire in the man’s gaze.
“And what is this danger?” A male Long Beard asked.
“The dilution of our people, elder,” Krovoor bowed to the dwarf who had spoken, earning the barest nod of approval. “We dwarves have, since the days of the Awakening, been a people built upon tradition. We are stalwart and strong. Those who face us in battle know fear. Those who trade with us in peace show respect. Those who betray us know vengeance. We lay the orc and the wyrmynn low. We defend the Realms from chaos and demon. We are the front lines and the last defense.”
Several of the Long Beards nodded approval at Krovoor’s words. One even smashed a mailed fist against the arm of his throne.
“But this man, this elf,” Krovoor said, spitting the word like it was venom sucked from a wound, “would have us bow to ways that are not only not dwarven, but are alien to these Realms.”
How does he know I am a Player? Gryph thought. It wasn’t a closely guarded secret, but it was also not common knowledge. Until the moment Krovoor had challenged him, Gryph had never even heard of the man. Had he been in the Spire when Gryph had stood accused by the Regent or had word spread that quickly?
“He claims dominion of the greatest stronghold of our ancestors, yet he knows nothing of our history, of our struggles, of our hopes and our dreams. He is a pretender whose heart lies not with our people, but with another. He be no dwarf and will expose our people to dangerous ideas and allow the corruption of stained blood.”
“Some say the time of the dwarves has waned,” a younger Long Beard said. “That we are melding back into the stone whence we came. Perhaps it is time for the stout folk to return to the Great Forge and leave the mortal realms to the younger races. What say you Krovoor son of Dangmaar?”
“Those who believe such are heathens and fools,” Krovoor spat. “Weak minded dwarves who want to flee to their hearths and the beds of their women.” Gryph saw both nods of approval and sneers of distaste among the Long Beards from both the men and the women. “We must show them the true way.”
“How would you turn the hearts and the minds of our brethren back to the true way?” A crotchety Long Beard said, his head bowed low and his eyes rheumy with age.
“Through strength and discipline,” Krovoor bellowed, and smashed the head of his hammer against his breastplate. “I will show our brothers and our sisters the truth of the old ways. A true dwarf is stalwart, strong, faithful and never surrenders.”
Those are the words Regveld had used to describe a dwarf.
“Some say that all races must evolve, adapt, improve. Perhaps to achieve these goals, we must change as well,” a middle-aged woman with the barest hint of gray in her braids said.
“Pah,” Krovoor spat. “We were born from the bedrock of existence. Our destiny lies not in see
king knowledge and evolution but returning to the perfection our people were created with. We have fallen into disgrace and it will take blood and sacrifice to regain all that was once ours.” Krovoor paused and spread his hands around at the millions upon millions of dwarven ascendant souls who stood silent and watchful. “Our people beg for a purpose. Why do ye think the ranks of the honored dead have grown in numbers here in the Great Forge over the millennia? They know that we, the living, have failed them, betrayed their ways and let ourselves fall from our great purpose. They no longer want anything to do with us.”
The powerful dwarf paused letting his words sink in and Gryph discovered that his heart was thundering in his chest. He is one hell of an orator. Krovoor extended his massive hammer towards Gryph, its heavy head unmoving even at arm’s length.
“Under my leadership the dwarves will rise and once again become the most feared race in the Realms, as we were in the days after the Awakening. I will give ye all a glorious purpose once more.”
He wants to conquer, Gryph realized stunned. Flashes of some of the darkest days of Earth history pushed into Gryph’s mind. The Heart of the Mountain hummed with a deep chanting of millions of the watching dwarf souls. The dwarven ancestors did not move, so it was difficult to tell how many of them were cheering for Krovoor, but it was a great many.
“Hu–Huh-Huh! Hu–Huh-Huh!” Their chanting echoed about the Heart of the Mountain.
“I am the dwarf to bring this new golden age to Korynn. Let me grasp my birthright in my mighty fist and I will make Dar Thoriim the center of all the Realms,” Krovoor bowed to the Long Beards “Or hand it to this dew drinker and see our people fade from the pages of history.” He sneered at Gryph and gave him the floor.
14
Gryph felt a million eyes on him and closed his own, breathing in deeply, letting calm ease into his mind and his body. He opened them to see all thirteen Long Beards staring at him dispassionately. The energy pulsing through them was volatile, and he knew they had been moved by Krovoor’s passion. What hope do I have?
“Venerable mothers. Honorable fathers. I can see that Krovoor's powerful words have stirred something deep and powerful in you. I too feel that stirring call. I was not born a dwarf in this life, but my soul was once Mahlgriim, the last Stone King.” Shocked mumbles flowed through the crowd, but none of the Long Beards so much as blinked at the news.
“You may wonder why I chose to reveal such a secret. It would seem, on the surface, to weaken my claim.” Krovoor’s face twisted into the grin of one who was sure his opponent’s error had just handed him victory. “I can see by Krovoor’s reaction that he believes I have erred, that by revealing my soul once inhabited a legendary madman, I have shown weakness. But Krovoor is wrong. Only by admitting the errors of my past can I hope to learn from them.”
“What have you learned?” The rheumy-eyed Long Beard asked and leaned forward.
“I have learned that the old ways were once the right ways. The opposing tenets of isolation and aggressiveness served our ancestors well. We built empires of conquest when it was to our benefit and we carved our strongholds deep in the mountains to counter cataclysm and apocalypse. We survived when other races perished. The old ways made us strong.”
Grunts and shouts of agreement rose in isolated pockets all around the chamber.
“But I have also learned the weakness of our ways. Pride and arrogance led us to face the terrors that lurk in the dark places of the Realms alone. We suffered because of our pride and committed unspeakable actions in service of our arrogance.”
Raucous howls of anger rose, drowning out the cheers of agreement.
“I have seen, no let me correct that, I have committed, some heinous sins. Like Krovoor I was once desperate to protect my people, to return them to glory, to prove to the Realms just how powerful we were.” Gryph paused for several heartbeats, letting his words sink in. “I also paid the ultimate price for that hubris. I had my very being stripped away, replaced by the daemonic Prime, who used me to murder and destroy. I fell because of my arrogance, because of my pride, and because I lusted after power.” Gryph looked Krovoor in the eyes and saw anger and hate. “Krovoor now lusts for that same power.”
Krovoor’s grin turn to a scowl.
“It is never easy to strip away the facade we wrap ourselves in, to see the truth of who we are, who our people are. But we are dwarves, and we are strong.” Gryph smacked a fist against his chest, and around him the cheering grew louder. “We will not hide in shame or fear of our true nature, and we will not let the mistakes of our past shackle us like foolish new beards bent on bringing back a golden age that never was. The old ways once served us well, but those days are past. To survive is not enough. We must thrive, and to thrive we must grow in knowledge and power, in wisdom and in might. One half of the coin is no longer enough. The old ways will lead only to death and dishonor.”
Gryph pointed his spear at Krovoor and stared him right in the eye. “That is the path that Krovoor wishes to lead us down, and I know that no true dwarf, one who is stalwart, strong, faithful and never, ever surrenders, would be foolish enough to walk that path with him.”
Krovoor smashed his hammer against his chest plate and roared. “Enough of this outsider’s weakness and lies. He is no dwarf and never was! It is time we battled, and I will show you the strength of the old ways.”
The powerful dwarf rushed at Gryph, both hands wrapped around the haft of his war hammer. Gryph expanded his buckler and readied his spear. His mind flew through his inventory of spells and items, seeking any advantage he could. He almost cast Demonic Scales, a gift from the imp Xeg, but suspected that cladding himself in the skin of a racial enemy would hurt him more in the court of public opinion than it would benefit him in battle.
Gryph stood rigid and calm, ready to face whatever Krovoor could bring to bear against him. Even if it costs me my life. Krovoor swung his hammer in a wide arc. The speed of the attack was incredible and Gryph could not raise his buckler in time. Not that it’d make much difference, anyway.
Gryph prepared for pain, but just before the blow was set to land with bone crushing force, the hammer stopped mid swing, as if caught by an invisible hand. It surprised Gryph, but complete disbelief filled Krovoor’s face. The dwarf grunted in pain as the force of his blow rebounded up his arms and the hammer fell from his grip leaving him defenseless. His eyes snapped to Gryph’s waiting for the inevitable killing blow. Gryph lowered his spear, smacking the butt into the stone of the floor with a loud thunk.
“I’m not as bloodthirsty as you,” Gryph said. “Nor as stupid.”
Krovoor howled in rage and swung a mailed fist. It had no more success than his hammer blow and convinced Gryph that his theory that neither of their attacks would find their mark was valid. It took a bit longer for those signals to reach Krovoor’s brain, but when they did, he spun on the Long Beards in a rage.
“What are ye doing? I called on the right of yer judgement, yet ye stay my hand in a fair fight?”
“You are mistaken young one,” the elder female Long Beard said. “The judgement is not a battle of martial prowess, but an accounting of one’s actions. Great leaders are more than great warriors. They are bred from all their actions in all arenas. It is time to account for your actions.”
She raised her fist high and smacked it down on the arm of her throne with a boom. A column of light slammed down surrounding Gryph, holding him fast as if by an invisible hand. He heard Krovoor struggle and knew the dwarf zealot was similarly bound.
“Krovoor, son of Dangmaar,” the rheumy eyed Long Beard said in a booming voice. “Since you have called for this judgement, you shall be the first to defend all that you are. Before we can move forward with your challenge, you must agree to the Assessment, an evaluation of your true nature. Your actions, your words, the very thoughts hidden in your mind will be laid bare and judged. Our judgement is final, and you will abide by it as the most ancient laws demand. Do you agree?”
>
“By my name and my father’s name I do,” Krovoor said.
“Gryph, Son of Quinn, you are the challenged in this judgement, so you will be second to defend all that you are. You must also agree to the Assessment, an evaluation of your true nature. Your actions, your words, the very thoughts hidden in your mind will be laid bare and judged. Our judgement is final, and you will abide by it as the most ancient laws demand. Do you agree?”
“By my name and my father’s name I do,” Gryph said, hiding an inner scowl that the promise was sworn upon the Colonel’s name.
“Then let the judgement begin. “The elder female Long Beard smacked her fist onto the arm of her chair once again. The sound reverberated through the Heart of the Mountain for several moments before it echoed back over Gryph, bringing with it a cascade of images.
15
Gryph saw Krovoor battling goblins, orcs and giants. He watched Krovoor laughing and falling in love. He heard the dwarf speak truths and lies. He felt Krovoor’s thoughts, be they of fear, love, hatred or joy. He felt it all, and he knew the measure of the man. Slowly the overwhelming maelstrom calmed and settled on one moment in Krovoor’s life.
Gryph lived that moment as if it were his own.
*****
I am angry, livid, betrayed. I hide in the shadows of the alley; the moonlight shining around the hated spire of that damned elvish tree. The open world is a prison, one my people and I have endured for far too long. My people have lost their way, forgotten what it was to be dwarves. Every day we are above ground we lose a bit more of who we are. I will no longer allow it to be. Tonight I will do something about it.
The door I’ve been watching for hours opens and I see them. The tall, lean human, beardless as a newborn babe leans down and kisses the dwarf woman. She reaches a hand up, tugging the man closer with a gentle hand to the back of his neck. I watch, the fires of rage growing fiercer inside me. The dwarf woman turns and walks toward my hidden spot. Although her face hides in the shadow of her hood, I know her. She looks back at her lover and waves before turning towards the dwarven quarter of the city. As she passes into the light of the moon I see her face, the face of my sister.
