Forging Destiny

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “It can’t be,” Tovak breathed in a near whisper. “It just cannot be.”

  “Though our people are not friends, you offered to protect Hess and me, against three krata no less,” Greku said plainly. “Would another of your people have readily done the same? Would they have had the moral courage and fortitude to do so?”

  Tovak looked to Greku and just shook his head.

  “I thought not,” Greku said. “You bested three full-grown krata by yourself. When you left us, you had no weapon in hand, other than a magical torch. I saw you draw them into that crypt. And yet, only you emerged alive and with that magnificent weapon now strapped to your back. If I do not miss my mark, it is mogan steel, a treasure worthy of a king, and a tool fit for a paladin.”

  Tovak blinked. His sword was mogan steel? He’d never seen a blade to match its like. Now that Greku said so, he could easily imagine the sword was made of the fabled steel. Such weapons were incredibly valuable; the secret of making them had been lost to the ages. He knew the Thane had a mogan steel axe, but beyond that … no other Dvergr to his knowledge owned one.

  “This day you were surely tested by your god and found worthy,” Greku said. “You went into that crypt, a skilled and blessed warrior to be sure, and came out even more honored, or cursed, depending upon how you look at it. I even felt you use your power. You may not be a full-fledged paladin yet, but a paladin you are nonetheless, a holy warrior of your god, a knight even. You are no Pariah, not anymore.” Greku closed his yellow eyes and held a hand forth towards Tovak. “The will of Thulla burns strongly within you. I can sense it, taste it even. Your ability, the potential to use will is raw, untempered, but it is there.” Greku opened his eyes again and they were intense as the Vass’s gaze bored into Tovak. “I know you feel it, the change. You cannot deny it.”

  Tovak opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. It was as the Vass said. He could feel the change, the burning spark within, and Greku’s words felt right to him, more than right. Was it just wishful thinking on his part? A Pariah wanting to fit in, find his place in a harsh and uncaring world?

  He shut his eyes, reached out to the spark, and searched for the answer. The Vass’s words felt true. Funny that an outsider should show him the truth of things … and yet all throughout Tovak’s life, he had been an outsider to his own people. How strange.

  Tovak opened his eyes and was startled to find he was no longer in the chamber. He was outside. The sky overhead was brilliantly blue. There was not a cloud to be seen. A strange yellow sun that seemed overly bright hung high overhead. Its light felt warm against his face, comforting. Gone was the cold sap of the underground. Exotic and colorful birds flew through the air. Small insects flitted about.

  Metal clanged on metal to his right, harsh and jarring, breaking the serenity. He looked over and saw a blacksmith with a long neatly braided, fiery-red beard hammering away on a sword he was tempering. Next to the blacksmith in the grass lay a dog, shaggy, sad-looking, and seemingly asleep as it enjoyed the warmth of the sunlight. It was the largest hound he had ever seen, almost as large as the blacksmith. It picked its head up and regarded Tovak with droopy brown eyes, wagged its tail once, then laid its head back down and promptly went back to sleep.

  The blacksmith looked up from his work and their eyes locked. In them, Tovak felt a deep eternity that seemed bottomless and a divine spirit, powerfully strong, fierce. He was rocked by it as the spirit rolled over him in pulsing waves of power. Tovak wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees but could not. He was frozen in place, caught locked in his god’s gaze.

  “Welcome to Olimbus.” Thulla’s voice was deep, confident, and firm. “Few come here these days. Not many are permitted such an honor, not anymore, and fewer in the days to come.”

  Tovak tried to speak but could not. The god’s power and majesty were overwhelming. It battered against his soul and mind, radiating outward in waves. Tovak felt tears prick his eyes.

  Thulla held his hammer lightly in his left hand. In the other he held a piece of glowing steel that was partially forged. “Very much like this sword I am working on, your journey as one of My holy warriors has only just begun. Like those you have already faced and conquered, there are trials and tests still to come. Show a strong heart. Continued faith and courage will see you through them.”

  Thulla turned back to the sword and began hammering away at it. Glowing sparks flew into the air with each hammer strike. Tovak was watching the Forger of Worlds work. He felt incredibly honored and at the same time wholly unworthy. After a moment, Thulla stopped his hammering and examined the glowing shaft of metal. A satisfied expression on his face, he looked back up at Tovak.

  “My people on your world have turned from Me. Few worship at my altar, and of those, even fewer are pure of heart.” The god seemed deeply saddened by this. Tovak felt the sadness keenly in the god’s power that continued to radiate forth like the heat of the forge. He could not help but weep as the sadness rolled over him. “Many peoples have strayed from the light, scorned their gods, and suffered for it on your world.” The god’s sadness turned to burning anger. “It is time for that to end. You, Tovak, will set the example. Even though they are presently blind, you will be the burning light, the beacon in the darkness My people need and have been craving. With the torch of your unquenchable spirit, you will light the way for them to rekindle their own faith. Can you do that for Me? Can you try to make a difference? For without faith, My people will remain lost and trapped by the spreading darkness.”

  “I will do as You ask,” Tovak said, finding the ability to speak. “I will do everything in my power to see Your will done.”

  “That is why I have chosen you. Though your life was shattered by the hands of others, your spirit remains unbroken and your faith true. That is why I have endowed you with mana and My everlasting love.”

  A large bucket of water materialized next to the forge. The god plunged the glowing steel into it. Steam hissed forth from the bucket.

  “Know that you may no longer heal others. That is a power that is henceforth denied to you. The battle over life and death of the faithful and unfaithful, pulling them back from the edge of the great beyond, is not yours to fight nor contest—not anymore. Your battlefield will be a different one and your journey as a warrior, a knight in My service, has only just begun. As I have said, additional tests, terrible trials lie ahead. Have faith and do as your heart wills and you shall pass them.”

  “Thank you for this honor, my lord,” Tovak said.

  Thulla regarded him for several moments.

  “When next we meet, Tovak Stonehammer, your life’s journey will have run its course and you will have crossed over. I look forward to that meeting, feasting with you in the ancestral halls, hearing of your tales and seeing you reunited with loved ones. Until then, the rest will be up to you. I will not directly interfere—I cannot, not anymore. Use the gifts I have bestowed upon you, learn to manipulate your will, and lastly, search and listen to your feelings, for that is how you will know not only My love, but My desires as well.”

  “I will,” Tovak breathed as the god’s power continued to pulse forth in ever stronger waves. Tears once again rolled down his cheeks and into his beard.

  “Good,” Thulla said. “Know that you are but the first of My faithful that I shall lift up. On your journeys, keep an eye out for them, for those with true faith are rare. Aid them where you can, inspire them through action and example, open their souls fully to My spirit.”

  “I will,” Tovak promised.

  “Good.” Thulla hesitated a moment as he regarded the sword in the bucket. Steam was still rising from it. “Barasoom is not as it seems, but that is a mystery, a puzzle for you alone to figure out. Now, it is time for you to go back from whence you came. I must return to My work, forge this sword, for it is meant for another, just as yours was destined for you.”

  Tovak felt a powerful wave of love emanate from his god. Then Thulla turned back to the for
ge and the weapon, which he drew from the bucket.

  The world before his eyes shimmered, as if he were surrounded by steam. Tovak blinked and found himself back in the underground chamber with Greku and Hess. He staggered, feeling a profound sense of loss at the breaking of the connection with his god.

  He rubbed at his eyes and then glanced down at himself, for all was not as it should be. He seemed encased in something. With no little astonishment he saw that he was wearing plate armor.

  Where had it come from?

  The armor was perfect as could be, as magnificent as the sword, and it felt incredibly light, almost as if it were a second skin. On his chest was emblazoned the lion of Thulla. It had been etched into the armor and was the same one he had seen in the paladin’s crypt, only larger. Utterly rocked to his core, he stared first at himself and then at the Vass.

  He was speechless.

  The armor encased his chest, legs, and arms. It seemed polished to an impossible degree, where it reflected the magical torchlight in brilliant flashes that shone against the walls.

  “That transformation was something to see.” Greku chuckled, thoroughly amused. “And now, you know the truth of things, paladin. You are, without a doubt, a holy knight of Thulla.” Greku smiled at him and it was a fearsome thing to see. “Let me be the first to congratulate you.”

  Tovak could only shake his head in disbelief.

  Chapter Eighteen

  With Hess leading the way, Tovak followed, the torch held high in his hand. It lit the passageway ahead in a steady and constant light. Greku followed just a few steps behind.

  The corridor the gnome was leading them down had no burial alcoves along the sides. The walls seemed to be set a little farther apart and the ceiling a tad higher than the rest of the passageways he had been through. Why it had been constructed like this he did not know. But there had surely been a reason, one lost to time and the ages.

  A strong draft continually blew around and by them. Tovak sniffed when he caught a familiar scent. It was the faintest hint of pines and fresh air. The smell was not terribly strong, but there was no mistaking the outside world. That told him they were likely close to the surface, or there were ventilation shafts nearby.

  After another three hundred yards and four turns, the gnome brought them to a thirty-foot passageway that ended in a wall of silken-white webbing that had a large oval opening in the center. It was just big enough for them to step through. Seeing it made Tovak feel terribly uneasy, for it had an otherworldly feel, as if it were the border from his world to a strange and fantastical place. He had a sense that he would not like what he found on the other side. It was more like a premonition than anything else.

  Stopping just before the web, the gnome pointed ahead and then made a walking motion with his fingers at the same time. The meaning was clear enough. Tovak glanced back at Greku, who nodded grimly.

  The Vass still had a hand pressed tightly to his side where he had been injured. He had stoically refused all offers by Tovak to help or craft even a rudimentary bandage. With almost every step, he was grimacing or gritting his teeth. It was clear he was in a great deal of pain. Tovak feared Greku had been hurt far more seriously than he was admitting to.

  “Ahead is the female’s lair,” Greku hissed in a low whisper to Tovak.

  “The one you killed?” Tovak warily eyed the wall of web ahead.

  Greku gave a slow nod.

  “With some good fortune,” Greku said, “the male will be gone, perhaps out hunting.”

  Tovak thought about that. Greku did not sound wholly convinced by his own words.

  “Where I found you was the male’s lair, right?” Tovak asked.

  “It was,” Greku admitted. “The two are a mating pair.”

  “Meaning there is likely a nest with eggs somewhere in there,” Tovak said, gesturing ahead.

  Greku nodded at that. “Yes, there are eggs inside.”

  “You don’t really think he’s out hunting,” Tovak surmised, “do you?”

  “He’s in there,” Greku said, then gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “He should be, at any rate. If he’s not, we retrieve my sword, along with my pack, and go.”

  “And if he’s in there,” Tovak said, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, “we have to kill him.”

  “That’s right,” Greku said, “for not only will he defend the eggs, he will most certainly come after us. Krow are highly territorial.”

  “So, what you are saying is he will not be pleased to see us.”

  “No,” Greku said, with a trace of what passed for a grin. “I don’t think he will be.”

  Resigned, Tovak drew his new sword. It felt good to have it out. He spared Greku one last grim look, then with one hand holding the torch and the other his sword, he began inching forward towards the webbed portal ahead. He stopped before it, his unease mounting to new degrees of intensity. He almost couldn’t quite believe what they were about to attempt.

  The wall of web, as well as the floor beyond, was made up of the thickest blanket of webbing he had encountered thus far, and it seemed to cover every visible surface ahead. There was a massive space beyond the portal. Holding his torch out, Tovak poked his head through the hole and peered outward.

  The space that opened up beyond the entrance felt truly cavernous. It swallowed the sound of his breathing and stretched out farther than he could see. A tingle of fear crawled down the back of his neck. A large body lay in the darkness ahead. Legs curled up, the spider lay on its back. It was clearly dead, but the size of it was impressive. It was easily four times as large as the krata he’d fought.

  The rational part of him wanted to turn back, for he knew another krow lay somewhere ahead. He could almost sense the primordial hunger of the spider, lurking out there in the darkness, just waiting to ambush them. Carefully, Tovak stepped through, into the chamber beyond. The light of his torch pushed back against the darkness, almost as if it were fighting the black.

  He found himself in a chamber at least one hundred feet across and the same wide. The ceiling was high above and seemed to hover just at the edge of the light. Every square inch of the interior, from floor to ceiling, was entirely covered by a thick layer of webbing. Some of it clung to his boots.

  At the center of the room stood what appeared to be a large rectangular structure with an arched roof. It looked to be a crypt, almost two stories in height. Like everything else, it was also covered with webbing. Dim light filtered through a hole in the ceiling, giving a twilight cast to the chamber.

  A scuff of boots caused Tovak to look around. Greku had climbed through. He glanced around briefly, surveying what lay before them. He did not appear to like anything he took in.

  “Your work?” Tovak asked, pointing with his sword to the corpse of the large spider. Tovak still could not believe how large it was, almost the size of a full-grown teska.

  “Yes,” Greku said. “The male is even larger. I am thinking it dragged me back to its liar out of habit.”

  Tovak gave an absent nod, hoping the male had not now decided to make this place home. There were numerous web-wrapped cocoons all around. Many were too thickly coated to easily identify what might be inside, but here and there he picked out the shapes of orcs, goblins, and gnomes. He also spotted dain, stags, and even what he thought was the long sinuous form of a murinok.

  “Hess,” Greku hissed, looking back. “Come on.”

  Tovak glanced back when Greku’s expression hardened. The gnome was standing on the other side of the portal of web. He was shaking his head firmly in the negative.

  “Not coming,” Hess hissed back at them. “I not stupid like you. You kill spider. Then I come.”

  “Have I mentioned he’s a bit of a coward?” Greku whispered to Tovak. “At least when it comes to spiders. I think all gnomes fear them.”

  “I fear them,” Tovak said.

  “I thought you were Hess the Mighty,” Greku hissed back at the gnome. “Hess the Weak-Kneed
, is more like it.”

  “Hess the Living,” the gnome replied without any hint of embarrassment.

  “He’s got you there,” Tovak said.

  Greku looked back towards the crypt ahead, scanning the chamber. “Hess may be the only sane one down here.” Greku raised a hand and pointed. “My sword and pack should be by the crypt.”

  Deciding there was no time like the present, Tovak started cautiously forward. He approached the crypt slowly, his eyes scanning in every direction. He saw nothing. When his light reached the back right corner of the chamber, he could just make out a thick tube of even thicker webbing along the wall that climbed up at a steep angle and intersected the ceiling. The tube was six feet wide and hollow. The spiders had attached it to the wall and reinforced it with sticks and dirt all along the outer surface. A wide network of thick supporting webs held it aloft and maintained its shape.

  It led to where the light overhead was coming from. Tovak understood that was how the spiders got to the surface to hunt. His eyes followed the webbed shaft back downward, but his view of the base was blocked by the back of the crypt.

  They moved by the body of the spider Greku had killed. He could not see any obvious wounds, but a pool of liquid had spread out on the webbing around it, staining it dark, before drying. Was it spider blood? Tovak gave it a wide berth.

  Greku caught his attention and pointed towards a large pack that lay before the crypt’s entrance.

  “My sword should be behind the crypt,” the Vass hissed to him. “Let’s get that first, so that we are both armed.”

  Tovak gave a nod. They stood a better chance if the Vass held a weapon. Still a dozen feet from the crypt, he sidestepped slowly to the right as they advanced deeper into the chamber. He wanted to bring the back of the chamber behind the crypt into his light and view.