Word of Truth

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Well, excuse me,” Whitney said with a hand pressed against his heart. “I just nearly died. I guess I’m not overly concerned with the whereabouts of our scaled friend. She can take care of herself!”

  Lucindur stepped forward, and before she could speak, Whitney said, “Okay…” He rubbed his hands together. “How do we get in there?” He grabbed one of the planks and pulled, but it didn’t budge. Not an inch.

  “Those’re foot-long dwarven spikes holding them planks in there,” Tum Tum said. “Ye’d have more luck shouldering yer way through the wood than prying them out.

  Tum Tum knew dwarven forging. All dwarves did. They were all required to understand how to forge simple objects—nails, spears, forks, knives—and if the dwarf showed promise, they’d be taught to make things like battle axes and hammers. Tum Tum wasn’t very adept with the anvil, so he’d flunked out at knives. Still, he’d learned to make a dwarven nail, and he knew these were staying where they were. But now, he had no dwarven weapons. He’d left his hammer behind, buried into Gold Grin’s chest.

  “Then what do you suggest, Tum Tum?” Lucindur asked. There was annoyance in her voice like Tum Tum hadn’t heard before. She was always the definition of kind, lovely, and wise. Always had the right quip or question, but now, she stared at him with icepicks for eyes. Cold so bitter had that effect on humans.

  “I dunno,” he said. “That wood’s gonna be solid as stone. It’ll likely dull an axe before it breaks through.”

  There was a chorus of exasperated sighs, hands thrown in the air, and a general feeling of hopelessness.

  “Now, wait a second,” he said. “Just cus we have no plan doesn’t mean we can’t make one! This isn’t the hardest thing we’ve faced. Not by a long shot. We can just wait for Aquira.”

  “He’s right,” Sora said. “We’ve come all this way, and we’re going to let a bit of wood stop us?”

  Sora stepped forward and flexed her hands. Then, she rolled her neck and stretched out her hand. A small wisp of fire appeared. A second later, it was snuffed out in a puff of smoke. She staggered, and Whitney caught her.

  “Easy, now,” he said. “Save your strength. We’re going to need it.”

  “Damn!” Tum Tum swore. He’d expected this to be an easy way in that would give them access to some of the old mines which he knew very well. “I might not be a clanbreaker, but I gotta have some strength left in these bones.”

  He backed up, motioned for everyone to move, and charged forward, roaring. However, he couldn’t get any momentum, with the snow being so high. His shoulder cracked against the boards, and he bounced off, not even leaving a mark where he’d connected.

  Whitney laughed.

  “Well, that didn’t work,” Lucindur said, helping him to his feet, brushing off snow.

  “I’d like to see ye try,” Tum Tum said to Whitney.

  “Alright, everyone back,” Whitney said, cracking his knuckles. He strode over to the entrance. “Guess we’re going through.”

  Tum Tum grumbled, but Lucindur placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “He’s right, you know.”

  Whitney gripped one of the planks, having a distinct recollection of doing just such a thing in the bottom level of Tum Tum’s bar. A moment later, after there wasn’t even a hair’s movement, he said, “I think we should wait for Aquira.” Then, he walked away, muttering, “That no-good flying lizard…”

  Tum Tum stepped up to the blockade once more. He backed up and slammed into it with his shoulder.

  “Oi! This be some aged, old wood.” He struck it again and again. Eventually, he did indeed call Whitney back for a turn.

  They’d been at it for hours before they started to see some progress. Sora somehow managed to fall asleep. At some point toward night, Aquira finally returned, gnawing on a goblin that used to be alive.

  It was difficult to see Aquira as the predator she was. The wyvern was as well-mannered as they came, but seeing her with blood coating her face, and a shred of reptilian skin hanging from her lips brought it all into perspective. Tum Tum suddenly found himself grateful she was on their side.

  “There you are!” Whitney groaned. “Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for you?”

  Aquira flicked her head back and forth, sending the innards of the poor creature flying, then licked her lips. She stood, stretching her back and wings as if intentionally ignoring the urgency in Whitney’s voice, then ambled over. She wasn’t a child anymore. A real, troublesome teenager.

  “Hey, Girl,” Sora said softly, rousing enough to stroke the frills around Aquira’s neck. The wyvern leaned into her touch, a clicking sound emanating from deep in her gullet.

  “Aquira, will you listen to me?” Whitney said.

  Before he could say another word, she took a deep breath, then blew out a pillar of fire. It hit the barrier and sprayed in all directions.

  Whitney dove. Tum Tum jumped back. Even still, he felt his skin reddening as if he were smelting ore.

  Tongues of fire licked out, melting the snow around them for a good twenty yards. When it abated, there was nothing left of the wooden blockade but ash, which caught the wind.

  Dust billowed out. The shaft clearly hadn’t been used in years, if not tens of years, and only the faintest of light could be seen due to the still-glowing embers. That wasn’t a problem for Tum Tum, though. His kin saw in the dark as well as humans saw at high noon.

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” Whitney shouted, looking down at his hands. He raised them flat against the air so everyone could see. They were raw and bloody.

  Tum Tum laughed. “Guess ye had the right idea from the start!”

  “Was your meal good, Aquira?” Whitney asked. “I sure yigging hope so.”

  “You leave her alone,” Sora said. She stood and moved to scratch Aquira’s head. “You did great.”

  “We’ve wasted more than enough time,” Lucindur said, already walking toward the mouth of the tunnel. “Let’s go.”

  Without a further word, the whole party followed her in.

  Everything was just as Tum Tum remembered it. Dwarven craftsmanship was meant to last a thousand lifetimes. The stone walls were so smooth they looked like marble. Though their footprints left in dust was a clear indication that the tunnels hadn’t been used in decades.

  “I can’t see anything,” Whitney said.

  “Stop complaining,” Sora reprimanded.

  “I’m just tired of crawling through dark tunnels and dungeons. I’d think you of all people could understand.”

  “Reminds you of Bliss’s lair?”

  “No,” Whitney said, with the utterly embarrassed tone of someone who was indeed reminded of someplace they never wanted to remember.

  “Liar.” Sora raised her hand, and a few small embers danced around her fingers, providing a hint of light. Tum Tum grabbed her wrist and pulled it down.

  “No need to tire yerself at all,” Tum Tum said, taking some joy in how frightened Whitney seemed. “I can see fine.”

  Silence carried them through the next series of turns and twists until finally, they saw torchlight up ahead. But there shouldn’t have been torchlight—not in tunnels that had fallen into disuse.

  “Somethin odd happenin up there,” Tum Tum warned. “Stay close.”

  “Odd? Maybe we should discuss this,” Lucindur spoke up from the back of the line.

  Aquira screeched low, and Sora quieted her.

  “Live a little,” Whitney said as he rushed to catch up to Tum Tum. It appeared some of his confidence had returned now that there was a bit of light to see by.

  “What do you think it is?” Sora asked.

  “Not what—who,” Tum Tum answered. “That be the southern mead hall. I’d know it anywhere, no matter how long I been gone. If these tunnels be any indication, no one should be here. No one should want to be here.”

  Tum Tum moved forward, putting one hand back to tell the others to wait behind. After the way Gargamane had treated him, he wasn’t e
xactly sure what to expect. Would the guards be on command to dispatch any and all intruders, dwarf or not? There was no way to know, so Tum Tum thought, better safe than dead.

  He put his back to the wall near the entrance. He knew what he’d see when he peered around. Three tables, taller than most in Balonhearth, with high stools surrounding each. Against the wall, in each of the far corners, would be stacks of barrels. They’d all be empty, or at least that’s how it had always been. Just for looks.

  Hanging from the ceiling would be various weapons that, along with their owners, the older warriors would attribute great heroics to. They’d said after battle, the commanders would lead their men through these very tunnels, stopping at each mead hall along the way, drinking until they’d forgotten the horrors of war.

  Tum Tum believed every word of it. The dwarves of the Three Kingdoms were fearsome and fierce, and absolutely honest when it came to their exploits—unless you count the times they told tales while drinking. And they were always drinking.

  “Let me go first,” Tum Tum said.

  Whitney gestured extravagantly with one hand as if to say, “Go ahead, no one’s stopping you.”

  Tum Tum took a deep breath, letting the dusty air fill his lungs and bring clarity to his mind. Then, he swung one leg around, placing him dead center in the doorway.

  “Arrrrrrrgggghhhh!” Tum Tum shouted.

  “Bwah!” came the response. A thrown tankard of mead followed, splattering the whole room in the bitter, sticky stuff.

  The dwarf inside fell backward off his stool, landed with a loud clunk.

  “Show yerself!” Tum Tum demanded.

  He felt movement behind him and knew that his companions had his back if things were to go south, but they didn’t. With a groan, a familiar face peeked up over the stool.

  “Ye made me spill me drink,” Brouben Cragrock, son of Lorgit Cragrock, Ruler of the Three Kingdoms said. Three quick hiccups followed, then his arm slipped, and he disappeared behind the table again.

  “Brouben?” Tum Tum said, incredulous.

  “Aye, what’s it to ye?”

  Tum Tum made his way up toward the fallen dwarf at a quick clip and the two clasped arms. Tum Tum dragged his old friend to his feet and engulfed him in a hard embrace.

  Brouben shoved Tum Tum back and, with a smile, said, “In here, burying me sorrows, and who do I run into but ye?” He swayed a bit, then sat down. “Where the yig ye been? I feel like I haven’t seen ye in half a century.”

  “It’s been many years, friend,” Tum Tum said. Then he turned and waved the others inside. “Come, come. It’s safe.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Tum Tum watched his friends cautiously enter the room. They fanned out, and he could clearly see Sora’s hands ready. Aquira brought up the rear, slithering along the ceiling like a snake. Her throat rumbled.

  “What’s goin on here?” Tum Tum asked Brouben.

  Brouben stumbled over to a dark wooden barrel that was set upon one of the tables as if he’d brought it there himself. The sound of the sudsy liquid filling up an earthenware mug brought a pang of homesickness to Tum Tum’s heart.

  “Oh, where are me manners?” Brouben said. “Ye want one?”

  “Well, I’ll—“ Whitney started, but Tum Tum waved him off.

  “We be fine. Got pressing business here in the heart.” That’s how the dwarves who called the Three Kingdom’s home referred to Balonhearth. It was, indeed, the heart of the southernmost dwarven kingdoms. The seat of power.

  “Ye ain’t gonna be welcome here, Dwotratum,” Brouben said. “Not anymore.”

  “That, I know,” Tum Tum agreed. “That’s why fate brought us to ye.”

  “Fate?” Brouben asked. He made his way back to his stool and plopped down. “Who be the flower-pickers?”

  “You know, I’m tired of being called names,” Sora said, stepping forward.

  “No—“ Brouben hiccuped. “No offense meant, miss.”

  Tum Tum raised his hand, palm out and said, “Sora, I’m sorry for me peoples’ manners. It’s okay though, Brouben’s one of the good uns.”

  He turned back to Brouben and said, “These are me friends. Whitney, Sora, Lucindur, and that not-so-little wyvern is Aquira.” Brouben’s hand went to his heart, and he nearly felt back, as if noticing her glowing yellow eyes for the first time.

  “Everyone, meet Brouben Cragrock, Prince of this kingdom,” Tum Tum said.

  “Wait—this is the Brouben you told us about?” Whitney said.

  “Pleased to know me own fame precedes me,” Brouben muttered.

  “You need to help us,” Sora said, stepping forward and wasting no time. “We need to speak with the King—your father. We have news. Grave news.”

  “Everyone, slow down,” Tum Tum said. “Sorry, humans don’t know how to have a conversation anymore.”

  Brouben lifted his pint to his mouth but stopped at his lips. “Ain’t no news ye have graver than me own, and I can tell ye this much, no one’s listenin to news round here.” He finished the motion and drained his mug. Then, placing the ale down, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and burped.

  “Sounds like this little chat won’t be any more beneficial than the one with that other lump of shog,” Whitney remarked.

  Tum Tum had been given plenty of reason not to like the commander of the clanbreakers, but he had been raised to respect him.

  “Gargamane the Gold was doin his job,” Tum Tum stated. “Nothin more.”

  “Ye saw Gargamane?” Brouben asked, suddenly perking up.

  “We did,” Tum Tum confirmed. “He told us to get gone. No one in. No one out.”

  “Aye. That’s what me father decreed.”

  “Well, I think it’s a coward’s move,” Lucindur said. “Where I’m from, we don’t even have walls, much less doors that seal themselves shut against guests.”

  “Well, it must be nice to know such peace,” Brouben said. Then he rose again, filled his mug, and reseated himself.

  Tum Tum took the stool beside his friend. “Brouben, this news… it’s unlike any ye’ve heard.”

  Brouben laughed. “Try me.”

  Tum Tum looked to his companions. Sora nodded, then looked at Lucindur, who nodded as well. Whitney just stood with his arms crossed, Aquira hovering directly beside him now, also looking cross. And they rarely agreed on anything.

  “There was a battle,” Tum Tum started. “Fought things like ye wouldn’t believe. Goblins, grimaurs, warlocks, upyr, and…”

  Brouben sat, staring into his mug, then looked up with only his eyes when Tum Tum paused.

  “And?” he said.

  “And the Buried Goddess herself,” Sora said.

  Brouben spilled his drink, then absentmindedly swiped the mead away. “Ye saw what?”

  “Nesilia, the Buried Goddess,” Sora repeated.

  “Were ye at White Bridge, too?” Brouben asked.

  “White Bridge? No, we were in Brekliodad,” Sora said.

  Brouben’s attention was rapt. “When?”

  Tum Tum stroked his beard. “Seventh day of Burntwood.”

  “That don’t add up,” Brouben said. “I saw her—“

  “Ye saw her!” Tum Tum shouted. Whitney, Sora, and Lucindur echoed a similar response. Even Aquira squeaked out a query.

  “I saw her then, too,” Brouben continued. “Same shog-shuckin day.”

  “That’s impossible,” Whitney said. “One of us must be wrong.”

  “Everyone, wait,” Sora said, holding out an arm. “What did she look like?”

  Tum Tum watched Brouben carefully. If he’d seen Nesilia, and he didn’t immediately recognize Sora, then it must have been after she’d hopped bodies. The Prince didn’t hesitate before his description like a liar might. Tum Tum knew his fair share of tall tale-tellers. One stood right behind him.

  “Skin, milky, creamy, white as fresh-fallen snow,” Brouben said. “Hair to match. Eyes the color of death.”

  “Not
impossible,” Sora said softly.

  “He saw her after she poofed over to Sigrid?” Whitney asked.

  “Now we know where she disappeared to,” Lucindur said.

  “But why White Bridge?” Tum Tum asked.

  “Couldn’t tell ye, but I feel Sir Torsten might know more,” Brouben said.

  “Sir Torsten?” Whitney said. “You know Torsten?”

  “Aye, and ye?”

  “We’re the best of pals,” Whitney said. “How is the old, stiff bastard?”

  Brouben laughed, settling a bit, and taking another sip. He turned his mug upside down and let the last drop fall into his mouth.

  “Sounds like ye know him, all right,” he said.

  “Did Torsten see her, too?” Sora asked.

  “He can’t see anymore, Sora,” Whitney said, as if proud of that knowledge about the famous knight.

  Brouben ignored him. “We all did. Men, dwarves, even the gray skins. She killed the famous rebel, Muskigo, in cold blood.”

  “Muskigo Ayerabi?” Sora asked softly. Tum Tum thought he saw a twinge of sadness pass over her features.

  Brouben nodded. “Did him in like he were a child.”

  “Then ye told yer father?” Tum Tum asked.

  “And that’s why he made the decree?” Sora asked, saying what everyone was thinking.

  “Aye, I told him,” Brouben said. “Took a beatin for it, too. Told me to shut my yiggin mouth if I knew what was good. Said that he’d know if the gods were back, cus Meungor himself would stop by for a drink, and dragons would come crawling back out of our arses.”

  “Perhaps if someone from the outside…?” Lucindur said.

  “Ain’t expectin me father to care what some foreign bard has to say. And especially not ye, Dwotratum. Yer a deserter, an outcast, and we got strict orders to throw any deserters back to the snow.”

  “What about me?” Sora asked. “Before Nesilia was that white-skinned upyr, she…” Sora swallowed hard. “She was inside of me.”

  Brouben laughed.

  “This isn’t funny, half-pint,” Whitney snarled. Tum Tum cringed at the insult. He understood Whitney wanting to defend his lass, but they stood before a Prince who could have every clanbreaker in the Three Kingdoms on them in a heartbeat.