Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.
Dwarven Mourning
She was woken by Myrthe who brought her a tub of water so she could clean up. Myrthe brushed her hair, silently removing grime and what could only be dried blood. She dressed, and pulled on her mail. She left the ruined tabard and also discovered that her cloak was just as damaged, so she left that behind too. Outside, she found out that Caerel had stood to what was left of his troops, to pay final respects to the fallen dwarves. In the light of dawn, the silhouettes of the armoured guardsmen and dwarves had a mystical quality that was befitting of the solemn occasion. The fallen dwarves each lay side by side, about a yard apart, on a bier that the dwarves must have constructed during the night. The ceremony was mostly silent, except for things that sounded like prayers in the language of thunder. Ulfberht beckoned Ala forward.
“Lady Alagariel, would you do the honours? It would be a boon to my kinsmen.”
It took her a second to realise what he was asking.
“Of course, Master Ulfberht.”
She had to concentrate to project her fire outwards far enough in six directions to light each pyre at once, but she managed it. All six biers turned into roaring infernos in moments. Behind her, the five remaining dwarves spoke in their thunder language. Ala stepped backwards in line next to Myrthe. Myrthe leaned in and whispered in her ear “Kinsmen, may you be borne to the halls of the gods upon these wings of elven fire.”
It was beautiful. Ala could feel tears running down her cheeks. She hadn’t known these dwarves, but they had been comrades in arms for a short while and the ceremony affected her. It didn’t matter at all that she’d only known them for a few hours at most. Bernard had spoken often of his brothers in arms, perhaps he had meant something like this? The ceremony also left Ala wondering where Myrthe had learned to speak dwarven.
After the ceremony, the dwarves kept their vigil, requesting that everyone go about their business and leave them to it. Ala got some more rest, which was also what Brugor had in mind for his hard pushed troops. They did start to make some small clean ups and repairs. Thankfully, no forces from Thetwick had yet been spotted. Talathiel had climbed onto the roof of the inn after the ceremony, near a point where Brugor had stationed two archers. They looked a little quizzical when the water elf turned to face the river adjusted her stance and began to speak slowly. By the time Ala was rested and went up onto the roof to see if Talathiel needed anything she could already see what the water wizard was doing. The river was swirling, twisting and lapping at the land directly up and downstream of the Inn and the ford. The land was eroding before Ala’s eyes. After a few minutes watching the spectacle, Ala could come to no other conclusion. Talathiel was altering the course of the river. It was a brutal demonstration of the Magister’s power. It was also very cool and quite unnerving. When Ala came down to the courtyard, she had to explain it to Caerel.
“Ala, what is your aunt doing?”
“She’s not my aunt, Caerel. She’s Gladiuth’s aunt.”
“Whatever. What’s she doing?”
“I think she’s making you a moat. When she’s done I expect the Ford Inn will be on an island in the river.”
That left Caerel looking at her in disbelief, but he didn’t press the point. After a moment, he just said, “I guess a moat would be nice.”
He then decided there was something more important that needed his attention and walked off shaking his head, leaving Ala behind wondering what to do with herself. The dwarves had embarked on the next part of their mourning process and that involved ale, cider and beer in no particular order. It was a ceremonial toasting, where anecdotes featuring the deceased were told. They understood that an attack might be imminent from the direction of Thetwick and didn’t seem to intend to get roaring drunk, sipping sparingly as each tale about their lost friends was toasted. Ala settled on the roof of the inn, where she had a good view of the surrounding countryside and could watch Talathiel at work. She stood in a number of poses, always with the knees slightly bent, and usually with her arms spread out, at a downward angle, her hand palms downwards. At some points in the ritual, she clearly had time to speak with Ala.
“This stance is called ‘water’,” Talathiel said. “Try it.” She turned away from the river, towards Alagariel. Ala stood up from where she was sitting, and faced her, mirroring her pose.
“Like this?”
“Yes, that’s about right. Small variations do different things, so there’s no exact right way to do it. You won’t feel anything at first, I think, but if you stand for long enough, you will.”
Talathiel changed her pose. “Earth,” she said and then moved again. “Metal.” She showed her wood and fire too. Ala tried each of the positions. There was something about them… something tickling at the edge of her mind in each one. It was strongest when standing in the fire position.
“This is a part of magic?” Ala asked.
“Not really. But it helps focus magic. Magic can be focused by rituals, though it is the significance of that ritual to the one conducting it that seems to be what is most important to channelling magic. Despite knowing this, I know of none who can channel it without resorting to such ritual. For we elves our rituals focus on the five elements I mentioned. We will speak more of it later. My request needs my attention.”
Ala tried the positions again on her own. Fire, particularly did something though she wouldn’t have been able to describe what she felt. She sat down and looked in the direction of Thetwick for a while after that, then did some sword-forms, allowing the familiar routines to relax her. After a while, she spotted Ulfberht in the courtyard waving at her to come down.
Ulfberht came over to her. “Lady Alagariel, I wish to speak with you.”
“Of course, Master Ulfberht. Why the formality?”
“It is a grave and formal matter of which I speak.”
“Please, Master, go ahead.”
“I have discussed the matter with my kinsmen and we have decided to explain what we are doing here.”
“I’ll admit I’m curious, Master Ulfberht.”
“Your sword. May I see it?”
“I would trust you with my life Ulfberht, but I’ve been told that drawing the blade might hurt those it’s not intended for. I would trust you to know of such matters, so if you wish I will give it to you.”
“Really? One of those? Who told you that? If it’s one of those blades… well I’m all the more eager to see it. You are right though. It could be dangerous. Perhaps you can hold it up so that I can inspect it?”
“Of course.” She drew the weapon slowly and held it up for him to look at it, slowly rotating it so that the light showed the details of the blade.
“Yes… yes… a true elf blade… and a very ancient one at that. One of the first perhaps. Look at the intricacy of those patterns. Beautiful. Would you tilt it please?”
She did.
“Yes, yes, just so, the dendritic pattern is very clear. Exquisite.” His eyes drifted the the hilt, “I see the pommel and grip are not original?”
“No. When the sword came to me, they had been damaged beyond repair by something. Acid I think. I have the pieces that are left.”
“It’s a passable job. Little training, but deft fingers and a lot of time. Did you make those yourself?”
“I did.”
“Then it may suffice. You possess a magnificent weapon, Lady Alagariel. The tales that accompany it must be fascinating.”
“I wish I knew some of them. It’s also my only real clue to finding out if I have any living kin.”
“Somewhere, there must be at least some elves alive who know that sword. With such life spans and learning, I can’t imagine none know of it.”
“I do hope you’re right.”
“Perhaps you will find one who can help. Now, about why Clan Ulfberht has travelled so far from Dwarfholme. I should explain. The ore that is required to forge blades like yours is the reason we came. Patterns, like the one in your blade, are initially formed by certain impurities in the steel. If a suitable smelting and forging process is used, that pattern you can see emerges. The crystalline structures in the steel blade align, achieving an unmatched flexibility and hardness. As good, some even claim better, than an Ulfberht blade. As true masters of our craft, we are required to learn the secrets of this forging process. We know for certain at least, that ore suitable to forge these swords was mined in that mountain range over there,” he pointed South, where the Irin mountains started.
“So, then you are on a quest to learn more of your art. A master craftsman seeking to learn yet more. It’s a noble calling, in my opinion.”
“We launched the expedition to find the ore. If we can, we meant to petition the Duke to be allowed to mine it and use it.”
“You said the pattern was initially formed from these impurities? I was told the pattern changes with use. How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. I think, actually, that the blades the elves make are also infused with magic or elven essence in some way. Perhaps it is simply the ritual of their forging that does it, magic is a subject largely beyond my ken. Dwarves are notoriously unmagical. I have no idea how that is done, or whether such a thing could be done by dwarves. I have seen too much to discount the idea that there may be some magic in everything however. History makes me think that the elves know much more about unlocking it than the dwarves.”
“Dwarves are the ones with the reputations as the greatest of smiths.”
“A fair point, though I often wonder if that is because anyone can use a dwarven weapon… to fully use an elf blade, well, I think you must have some elven magic. I saw your blade work yesterday. You are fully attuned to your blade I think, but perhaps even greater things are possible. You are young, are you not, for an elf? I have studied the legends of the battle-dance. The greatest of the fire-elven battle-dancers were said to be able to project such fire and heat that they could slice straight through an enemy’s blade or armour, melting it as their blades passed through. Perhaps there is more you can yet master?”
“I am certain there is… and… Ulf… Thank you… for sharing your knowledge.”
“I have told you why I am here. My kinsmen and I are not yet certain of what we must do next. It depends a little on what happens here. Might I ask why you are here?”
“Me personally, or the group I travel with?”
“I can see there are things amiss in Thetwick, so I can understand why the Duke sent a force to investigate. Why you are with them is a little more curious, though. Would you enlighten me?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. I came back here to claim the inheritance my adoptive uncle left me. It was his family home and lands and I do not wish to tarnish his memory by leaving it to the Oakharrowers or these awful Phansigar. He charged me with seeing his possessions are well cared for, so I will see it through.”
“So you are seeking to safeguard your uncles’ lands. That is a fair enough calling.”
“To be honest, if the situation in Thetwick returns to its former stability, I would probably find a steward for his estate. I don’t actually have a real desire to hold his wealth. After that, I had plans to visit the elven realms and see if I could discover who my parents were. I have not given it much thought beyond that.”
“So you mean to take back Thetwick?”
“I don’t see how that is possible, without taking on Oakharrow itself. Thetwick is not really defensible against a determined army. To do that, I would bypass Thetwick, if I were the Duke or perhaps the King, should he choose to get involved.”
“As would I. I am thinking I will do this. My kinsmen will travel into the mountains. Among them is my house’s master smelter. He is the one most knowledgeable about ores. I should mention he is still with us thanks to the ministrations of you friend, the Priestess of Guanshiyin. I have, of course told her of our gratefulness and we will make a grand donation to her faith.”
“Myrthe embodies the tenets of Guanshiyin fully, she did not do it seeking anything from you.”
“I know this, but among dwarves, one good turn deserves another. We Ulfberhts prefer to pay out debts promptly.”
“I understand.”
“Now, to continue, transporting ore is highly impractical. If we find the ore, the ingots must be made locally. To do so, Thetwick needs to be stable and open to trade. I will not deal with the Phansigar. That puts my interests in line with the Duke’s, and I suppose, yours. Therefore my suggestion is that I join you in your travels, at least as long as they are aimed at returning Thetwick to the Duke’s control. If I am to leave House Ulfberht with a legacy, I must pursue the source of this ore to the end. I must endeavour to secure lasting access to the ore and my presence is likely more valuable offering you assistance than it will be mining a few chunks of ore.”
Ala didn’t understand why all these magnificent people she was meeting wanted to travel with her, but the idea of this solid dwarf as a travelling companion set her at ease, somehow.
“I think I would like that very much Master Ulfberht. Your sword with us would be most welcome. Though we’ll have to explain it to Caerel. I can’t imagine he will be against it after hearing your tale.”
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