“Our time o’ glory soon approaches! Soon we will march to our homeland; soon we’ll again see the great peak o’ Drenzedell; soon will be our hour o’ vengeance!”
The room once again erupted in cheers as a misty-eyed Roakore smiled at the sight of his people. Soon, Father, he said to himself. Soon will be the hour.
He left the training room and made his way to his family’s hall. He did after all have twenty-seven wives waiting for him, all hoping for a chance to aid the cause with another child.
After another hour of fine ale and shared stories, the dwarves, along with Whill and Abram, filed out of the dining room and down several winding corridors. It had come to Whill’s attention that today was a holy day among the dwarves, being the day of the month in which Dy’Kore himself had settled the great mountain. The day of promise was celebrated every month of the year, with the largest of the rituals taking place in June, the actual month that the settlement had taken place. Feeling very warm inside and unable to hide his ale-induced grin, he ambled along with a group of very excited dwarves. All of them had welcomed Whill and Abram warmly, uncharacteristic of their gruff reputation. No doubt it was due to the spreading story of the fight with the Draggard two nights previously.
With every step Whill could hear the growing sound of many drums, hundreds it seemed beating in unison in the chamber ahead. Soon the group entered a massive natural cavern, much unlike the halls and tunnels of the rest of the city. Here no walls had been smoothly chiseled, no level ceiling had been smoothed out; indeed, the only alteration to the immense cavern were the carvings on the many walls, and the massive stalactites and stalagmites. The cavern, he guessed, was more than two thousand feet in circumference, and within, an ocean of dwarves waited.
Abram and Whill stood side by side in mutual awe at the sight of the tens of thousands of dwarves within the cavern. Before Whill could comment on the sight, the drumming abruptly stopped, and all attention fell upon the western wall of the cavern, where Fior stood upon a ledge high enough so that all in attendance had a clear view of their high priest. He wore red flowing robes with gold trim, and in his left hand was a staff adorned with enough jewels to see ten men through fifty years of comfortable life. As the drumming echoed and was lost in the surrounding stone, and the murmurs died away, Fior spoke.
“Six thousand years ago, on the vast green surface world, a great dwarf by the name o’ Ky’Dren was born.”
He paused for effect as his deep melodic voice echoed throughout the cavern. Near him four dwarf children stood as still as stone, looking up wide-eyed at the storyteller. They had of course heard this tale a hundred times, but only rarely did they have the pleasure of hearing it from the mouth of the gifted Fior.
“Before the time o’ Ky’Dren, our people lived on the surface, on the neverending rolling fields o’ green we called home. We were aimless creatures, broken into many tribes; many o’ us fought amongst ourselves as with the humans. Always were we at war, ever threatened by the horrible dragons. But our gods sent us a prophet, a messiah-indeed, the greatest dwarf that ever lived!”
Fior paused as the crowd bellowed “Ky’Dren” in unison.
“The gods spoke to Ky’Dren, and bestowed upon him the ability to move stone with only a thought. ‘Go to the mountains,’ the gods told him, ‘for within them lies the most beautiful o’ our creations, buried by the jealous and evil gods. Defeat the dragons, find and free our riches, and forever shall ye live within the Mountain o’ the Gods.’”
He paused once again as a slow beat was taken up by the many drummers. “And so Ky’Dren and his many followers went to the great mountain range now named after him, and there Ky’Dren and his people carved out what would become the first halls of our ancient city.”
Fior went on for more than an hour, recounting the many battles those ancient dwarves had faced, and the grandest of all stories, how Ky’Dren had single-handedly killed five dragons-no small feat, even for a small army. Throughout the entire gathering Whill watched and listened keenly. All about him he saw a proud and noble people, listening intently to the stories of long-gone kings and heroes. History was the backbone of the dwarf culture, a great pride of the race that had come so far. Their faith was stronger than Whill had ever seen among any people he had ever met. The peace within the eyes of those he looked upon-those who dedicated their lives to the greater good, those with the knowledge that their actions would undoubtedly find them a place within the Mountain of the Gods-gave Whill a feeling of great longing for a faith so strong, so resolute.
Whill followed no deity, had no god, but he was a spiritual man. Abram those many years ago had not presented Whill with any one religion, but rather had shown him all religions and told him it was for him to decide which he believed. Whill came to see that all were relatively alike, promising salvation for blind faith and damnation to nonbelievers. He could not follow blindly; he was a student of the world, always striving to learn more, always quick to ask the many questions that, with religion, inevitably led to the same answer. With religion one had to believe something to be true without proof, something Whill could not do, though he sometimes wished that he could. He had therefore come to the conclusion that whichever god or gods were real, they would judge him by his deeds and not his blind faith; they would see him as a good man with good intentions. By following his heart and doing always what he saw to be right, Whill would find his salvation.
After the gathering had ended, and he and Abram had turned in for the night, Whill lay thinking of Tarren. The next day they would leave the mountains with Roakore, and learn the fate of Sherna. He lay awake for hours worrying for the young lad who had so quickly found a place in his heart. At last sleep found him, as did dreams of Tarren.
Roakore had learned from Fior that Whill wished to set out first thing in the morning. He said his farewells to his many wives and children, and checked over the contents of his large pack. Seeing that all his needed provisions were included, he gathered his many weapons. He brought his four hatchets and his great axe, and also a new weapon he had himself invented but not yet tried. He called it the stone bird. To anybody but one with the powers to move stone, it would have seemed cumbersome. The weapon consisted of two smooth round rocks, fifty pounds each and connected by two thick, steel chains, which in turn connected to a short metal handle. He gazed upon that handle with a smile. He had been working on this weapon for nearly a year and could not wait to put it to use on a Draggard skull. The handle was covered in runes, listing the names of the many dwarf gods, and the names of his father and fallen brothers. Set at the bottom of the shaft was a single diamond, circled by many smaller, dark red gems.
Roakore made his way to the main gate and was greeted by Fior and Whill and Abram, and a great many dwarves. After many farewells the three made their way down the long and winding tunnels that would take them to the surface.
“The king has granted usage o’ the railway,” Roakore said to Whill and Abram, who had inquired why they had veered from the tunnel by which they had previously entered the city.
Before them was a wide stairway, spiraling up so high that Whill could not see its end. “This stairway spirals up fer one thousand feet. It’s a hell o’ a hike.” Roakore laughed at the frowning humans. “Cheer up, lads! It’ll save us hours an’ get us out o’ the mountain within the hour.”
With that he began ascending the stairs two at a time. After less than an hour, and breathing heavily, the three companions finally came to the end of the giant stair, which ended in a small room. Before them was a large, heavily cushioned metal cart, similar to but larger than those used to haul coal and metals. It sat upon a thin metal track that Roakore referred to as the rail. The rail led to a large hole in the wall and beyond into darkness.