Word of Truth

by Rhett C. Bruno

  Secretly, Tum Tum figured they’d all covered their britches in shog when the day of their Commute arrived.

  The Commute… one year under the open Pantego skies. Each one had their own path to carve, their own destiny to fulfill. The goal was simple: learn what he may from the vast, wide world. Most couldn’t wait to get back to the safety of Balonhearth or any of the other peaks, but Tum Tum fell in love.

  Not with some lady or wench, but with the wood of Winder’s Wharf and the salt of Trader’s Bay, the hustle and bustle of a city alive. No, Tum Tum didn’t like adventuring, but he loved hearing the tales.

  He supposed that’s why he and Whitney Fierstown had become such quick friends. Sure, the kid was full of shog and spit, but he spun quite the yarn.

  Tum Tum’s Commute had been spent sweeping floors and polishing mugs for a cranky old man whose name wasn’t significant enough to be remembered. However, the same day that old bugger’d kicked the bucket, Tum Tum used every autla he’d earned—and some of his father’s—swiped up the deed, and made the bar his own.

  Until this moment, he hadn’t a single regret. But now, looking up at Balonhearth, the King of the Dragon’s Tail Mountains, he longed to be back amid the rock, gold and silver veins, and iron mines with a goblet the size of his head filled with the most potent dwarven draught—the stuff those flower-pickers in the south couldn’t handle.

  It was gorgeous.

  It was magnificent.

  It was the place of dreams and legends.

  “That’s it?” Whitney said.

  Shog-shuckin, thief, Tum Tum thought to himself, balling his fists.

  “How could you know?” Whitney went on. “They all look the same.” He pointed. “Oh, look, that mountain has a little nib at the top, too. Sure, but this one slopes a bit to the east while that one dips to the west.”

  Sora elbowed Whitney and offered an apologetic smile to Tum Tum.

  Since the first they’d met when Tum Tum saw her walk into The Winder’s Dwarf, side by side with Whitney, he liked her. He also knew he’d seen a spark between the two of them. He couldn’t imagine what anyone saw in that feather of a man.

  “It’s home,” Tum Tum said softly.

  “And a beautiful one at that,” Lucindur said.

  “Ooookaaay,” Whitney said, dragging out the word.

  “Whit, cut it out,” Sora scolded.

  Aquira made a little burping sound and sped off ahead, zipping under an arch formed by a fallen boulder caught between two rocky walls.

  They continued to argue, but Tum Tum barely took notice. As they walked, he let his hand scoop up snow that reached his waist in some places. Closing his fist and reopening it, he watched it clump and melt.

  “Up this way,” Tum Tum said, then started off, not bothering to see if anyone would follow.

  From there, they could see the faint outline of King Andur Cragrock, the first King of the Three Kingdoms, jutting out of the mountain, pointing the way to his city, the place Tum Tum had worked so hard to stay away from, yet couldn’t wait to return to.

  He only hoped they welcomed him back.

  “Is it safe?” Lucindur asked.

  “If ye wanted safety,” Tum Tum answered, “ye should’ve stayed behind yer golden arches. Besides, if Kazimir—rest whatever soul the demon had—was right, and Nesilia only brought her weakest, first wave with her to the Citadel, we’ve got no time to be wastin.”

  “Hear, hear!” Whitney said. Then, he turned to Lucindur and said softer, “But it wasn’t a dumb question. Looks like the whole mountain’s going to turn into a landslide any moment.”

  Tum Tum ignored him again. “Won’t be long now,” he said.

  The next hour was spent climbing rock, waiting for the flower-pickers to catch up, and trying to bury the feeling of dread he had at the thought of standing before King Lorgit and asking for his most prized possession. Legends spoke of a time when dragons soared the skies in great numbers, but none had been seen in many lifetimes. They’d all vanished and never returned, save for the one whose heart lay in a vault, offered for Brike Sledgeborne’s life in exchange for a home for dwarves. Its power helped carve out their kingdom long ago.

  Tum Tum knew this, as any dwarf of Balonhearth did.

  His father had once been in the presence of the stone—so he’d said. Dwarves were known for telling tales. Though Tum Tum couldn’t be sure if his father had spoken truth, he’d said that too much time within the glow of it made him feel faint—exhausted like he carried the pain of the entire extinct species. Though even with all that power, it had become no more than a trinket for the King. The last non-skeletal remnant of a dragon on Pantego.

  For the first dozen minutes of their trek up the mountainside, Whitney and Sora had been hand-in-hand. But now, Whitney was huffing, and Sora was doing her best to help him along.

  Strong one, that Sora, Tum Tum thought.

  “Okay, come on,” Whitney said, out of breath once they reached the entrance. “This it?”

  A giant statue of a dwarf was sculpted into a ridge and pointed toward a flat area of rock across from it. The wide stone door carved into the mountain was nearly invisible to the eye. Tum Tum dragged his hand across the inscription, feeling the bumps and lines of an old form of his language, covered in frost.

  “What’s it say?” Sora asked.

  “’Balonhearth, The Great Mountain. King Lorgit Cragrock, Master of the Three Kingdoms.’” Tum Tum read the symbols, but he didn’t need to. He’d remember those words for a thousand years to come. This was home.

  “That’s nice, but it’s freezing,” Whitney said. Then, shoving everyone aside, he raised his hand to knock on the door.

  “Oi! Do that if ye want to die a death most terrible.” The voice came from up the path a ways.

  Whitney’s hand froze, and Tum Tum scooted around him to see the speaker. The dwarf wore fine armor, plated and blocky, but with dwarven geometric patterns set in gold that no human blacksmith had hands steady enough to inscribe. His barbute helm was equally impressive, rising to three flattened points over his forehead. Behind him marched a contingent of dwarven clanbreakers, each decked out in black mail covered in spikes.

  “Meungor’s frozen beard,” Tum Tum said.

  “Who the yig are you?” Whitney shouted at the same time.

  “That ain’t a question needing answerin,” the armored dwarf said. “It’d best to be turned around on ye.”

  Whitney looked around, confused, then elbowed Tum Tum. “What did he just say?”

  “Name’s Tum Tum—Dwotratum Goodbrew—and these are me compan—“

  “Mountain’s sealed shut. No one in. No one out,” the armored dwarf said.

  “Sealed? By whose order?” Tum Tum asked.

  A clanbreaker on each side of the speaker stepped forward.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Tum Tum said. “I mean no harm. Just come a long way, we have. This be home to me.”

  “Anyone who calls Balonhearth home for true would know of the King’s decree. No one in. No one out,” the dwarf repeated.

  “But why?” Tum Tum asked.

  The armored dwarf strode forward. Two quick steps and the nose bridge of his helm was tickling Tum Tum’s mustache.

  “Think I don’t remember ye, outcast?” he asked.

  Those words hit Tum Tum harder than any blow could have. So many years had passed since Tum Tum had left on his Commute. That Tum Tum’s name was remembered spoke to just how rare it was that someone would not return. Or maybe, it merely spoke to the famed memories of his kin.

  The armored dwarf made a show of removing his helmet.

  Underneath, hair as golden as the summer sun unfolded down to the middle of his back. His beard was braided, but not hanging as most dwarves wore them. His were tight against the skin of his face in sharp zig-zag patterns designed to keep the hair beneath his helm.

  Tum Tum recognized him, as anyone from Balonhearth would. Gargamane the Gold had been the leader of King Cragroc
k’s royal guard for as long as Lorgit had been king. If the commander of those elite forces was out here instead of inside guarding the throne room, something had to be wrong.

  “Got lost on me way home from Commute,” Tum Tum said.

  “Got lost, my arse,” Gargamane said. “Got used to bein warm and livin under the sun. Ye’ve forgotten yer people, and we forget just as quick.”

  “If ye’ve forgotten, then all is well.”

  “Ye think this a joke?” Gargamane spat. “Ye ain’t welcome here no more. Ye can’t just not return from a Commute. And bringing them? Flower-pickers and worse? What were ye thinking?”

  “Had no choice, brother—“

  “That’s just it. We ain’t brothers.” Gargamane stepped forward. “I hope the south was worth it. Now, go.”

  The commander jabbed a finger, then turned, and as he did, Tum Tum said, “Ye don’t think I’d just waltz back for no reason do ye? We’re all in dire straits, my commander.”

  “Don’t ye, ‘my commander’ me,” Gargamane said, spinning back so fast his hair slapped the clanbreaker beside him. “We all know ye call Pi Nothhelm king these days. I heard what happened in Winde Port. Yer desperate. Destitute. Yer home’s gone, but ye made yer choice when ye overstayed yer year.”

  “And it was a choice I’d have just as soon held on to!” Tum Tum said, terse. Then he exhaled through his teeth. “Look, I ain’t here because me home burnt. I’m here because all our homes are about to be burnt. Includin yer own. No one’s safe. Ain’t ye heard what happened to the Strongirons up north? Surely, if I heard, ye have too.”

  Gargamane approached Tum Tum again. “Drav Cra bastards got em, what I heard. What about it?”

  “It wasn’t just any Drav Cra,” Sora said, stepping forward.

  The look on Gargamane’s face as he peered over Tum Tum’s shoulder could have dried up Trader’s Bay.

  “And what do ye know?” Gargamane said.

  Tum Tum turned and expected to see Sora backing down, but she didn’t at all. Instead, she took another step.

  She’s got a bigger set on her than all the flower-pickers combined, he thought.

  “I was there,” she proclaimed.

  Gargamane shoved his way past Tum Tum to stand before Sora. His hand rested on the handle of a thick bastard sword. “Ye’d best explain how ye were there when me kin died and yet stand here now, tellin the tale.”

  Whitney now stepped up beside Sora, puffing out his chest. “I think you need to learn some manners, wee-bit.”

  Gargamane advanced on Whitney now. “Who ye callin wee-bit, twigs-for-legs?”

  Things were quickly spiraling out of control. Tum Tum knew he had to do something, but before he could, Lucindur stepped between them. She was slight, but her presence carried a certain matronly aura with it. If it intimidated Gargamane in the least, he didn’t show it. Instead, he responded in kind, stepping forward again.

  Whitney mumbled something under his breath and turned away.

  “Well, this is a strange party ye’ve brought with ye, Dwotratum,” Gargamane said, eyes fixated on the Lightmancer. “Yer father would be ashamed.”

  “It’s just Tum Tum now,” he replied.

  “Changed yer name, too. Aye, makes sense. Ye’ve abandoned everything else—why not drive the pickaxe in as deep as it can go?”

  “That ain’t fair—“

  “Well, what is it I’m missing?” he said, cutting off Tum Tum’s response. “Because all I see is a homeless dwarf.”

  “Commander Gargamane,” Tum Tum said. “Sora… this is Sora… she suffered some horrors at the hand of…”

  Tum Tum couldn’t finish his sentence. He’d been there in the Citadel and still found it difficult to believe what he’d seen. Gods and goddesses in Pantego again? It seemed ridiculous.

  “Nesilia, the Buried Goddess,” Sora finished.

  Tum Tum expected him to laugh, but Gargamane’s face contorted into something between anger and fear. “What do ye know of the witch?” Gargamane asked, his voice low and brimming with urgency. Fearful muttering broke out amongst his clanbreakers as well.

  “She’s returned—“

  “Keep yer voice down!” Gargamane hissed. “Heard rumors about this… heard some folks saw her in the south. Either way. Been strange happenins with all these beastie attacks.”

  Tum Tum’s stomach dropped. “Ye’ve seen them? The grimaurs?”

  “And goblins too,” Gargamane said.

  “Goblins be the norm here, though,” Tum Tum said.

  “Not like we’ve seen. They’ve gotten brave. Daring, even.”

  “Sora’s seen her in the flesh,” Tum Tum said.

  “This knife-ear?” Gargamane laughed.

  With a screech, Aquira swooped down directly in front of Gargamane and screeched. The dwarf fell to his backside, snow puffing up around him. A few of his clanbreakers drew their weapons and ran to him, helping him to his feet.

  Aquira then landed on Sora’s shoulder. Tum Tum couldn’t figure out how such a slight woman bore the weight of the now full-grown beast, but Sora was no weakling.

  At once, the clanbreakers all tensed.

  “Aye, that looks about right,” Tum Tum said, his turn to laugh this time.

  “I thought all these creatures be extinct,” Gargamane said, eyes ablaze with wonder.

  “Nearly,” Tum Tum said. “But ye should see her blow flame.”

  “She can’t…” Gargamane said, barely a whisper. Then, as if realizing he’d lost the upper hand, he cleared his throat and raised his sword. “I asked ye a question that’s gone unanswered. Balonhearth is a long way from wherever ye’ve been. Ye brought with ye a mystic, a Glintish bard, this… whatever-he’s-good-for over there. What are ye doin here? What else ye hidin?”

  “We ain’t hiding nothin. Just lookin to stop the witch from destroyin life as we know it,” Tum Tum said. “The King needs to know.”

  “Aye, so ye should be in Yarrington, tellin yer King all about it,” Gargamane said. “Little tyke’d probably fancy a good bedtime story.”

  At that, the clanbreakers broke rank and joined Gargamane in laughter. A few bumped into each other, slapping their knees.

  “This ain’t a joke,” Tum Tum said.

  Collecting himself, Gargamane replied, “I’ll be the judge of what my King does and don’t need to know. Ye know who I be, and ye know what I’ll do to uphold the King’s decree.”

  “Oh, he rhymes,” Whitney scoffed.

  Gargamane eyed him a moment before continuing. “Now, regardless of what story ye got to tell, I said it before. No one in. No one out.”

  Brandishing his sword, this time as a threat, Gargamane lowered his gaze, and the clanbreakers returned to formation.

  Tum Tum backpedaled until he bumped into Lucindur.

  “We should go,” he said.

  “Go?” Whitney complained. “We just got here, and I was looking forward to a pint of the yig that passes for ale up here.”

  Tum Tum turned to him and said, “Look, that’s that. These clanbreakers won’t negotiate. They won’t argue. Those spikes? They’ll impale ye faster than ye can say ‘ow.’”

  “Tum Tum, we can’t just turn back,” Sora argued.

  “Ain’t got much of a choice. We’ll find somethin else to use on the witch.”

  Just then, in a show of uncharacteristic bravery and fully-characteristic stupidity, Whitney pushed past them all. “Now, you listen to me, you pint-sized, always-got-something-to-prove, rock-eating—“

  His words were cut short when Gargamane hooked his foot around Whitney’s ankle and slammed a gauntleted forearm across his chest. Whitney was as fine a fighter as Tum Tum had seen, but he was no match for an expert Clanbreaker commander—a job Tum Tum was destined for but never wanted. Without so much as a warning, Whitney toppled over and fell over the ledge of the canyon.

  Sora screamed, and so did Whitney. Tum Tum couldn’t tell which one sounded more feminine. At the same time, Gar
gamane bent and grasped Whitney’s boot.

  Dwarves were small, but they were strong—they had to be for all their work in the mines—and Gargamane had clamps for hands. He crushed Whitney by the ankle with one of them.

  Whitney hung, flailing. Heat touched the back of Tum Tum’s neck as fire rose from Sora’s outstretched hand.

  “Keep calm,” Tum Tum said under his breath.

  The clanbreakers shifted. It was clear they hadn’t expected such a display, but they wouldn’t show fear.

  “What are ye thinkin to do with that, witch?” Gargamane asked, not even stuttering at the sight of magic.

  “I’ll fry you alive,” Sora said, stepping forward. “And your men, too. That armor will make a fine kiln.”

  “Doubt I’ll be able to keep him from fallin if I’m burnin in me armor,” Gargamane said, then turned to Whitney. “Stop squirmin, or yer gonna fall out of yer boot.”

  Sora’s flame rose higher.

  Tum Tum held her back and whispered, “Don’t do it, Girly.” He looked down at her hands, poised to strike.

  “Give me one good reason,” Sora demanded.

  “Oi! Use yer eyeballs!” Tum Tum squealed. “Yer boyfriend carromin to his death ain’t enough?”

  “Listen to him, Sora!” Whitney shouted. “Pull me up! Pull me up, and we’ll leave!”

  “I don’t think ye learned yer lesson,” Gargamane said.

  Sora pressed forward, and the clanbreakers made a wall between the two parties.

  “Only one here needs to learn a lesson,” Sora said.

  It all happened so fast that Tum Tum didn’t even have a chance to prepare for it. Sora swung her arm wide, and flame shot from her hand. The fire missed the clanbreakers and Gargamane, but it slammed into the mountain with force. A slow rumble began, and snow and ice came down in a heap. The clanbreakers barely had time to look up before they were crushed beneath it.

  Gargamane, however, just shook his head. He knew as well as Tum Tum did that the clanbreakers would be fine in their armor as long as they didn’t suffocate. Tum Tum hoped Sora knew the same. Otherwise, she’d just murdered half a dozen of his kin. When he turned, though, he wasn’t so sure. The look in her eyes was hotter than the flame.