years ago at the Deep Forge as a gift for a human who saved his son’s life in battle.”
Udor nodded his head slowly and fingered the impossibly valuable bands at his beard again, “How is it here in the First Edos’s chamber then?”
Fierfelm did not pause, “The human passed it to his son who passed it to his son who was killed by hobgoblins in western realms. Our agents went seeking it then and brought it back to Craggen Steep…,” here the boy paused, closed his eyes, and tapped his chin for a moment.
“It’s not a test,” repeated Udor.
“No, First Edos, I know the answer, they recovered it eighty-five years ago from a grave. They returned it to Craggen Steep where the Antiquarians Guild confirmed it and placed it on the wall as First Edos Uromos requested.”
“Enough,” said Udor with a smile and a nod of his head as he patted the boy’s back. “This is not a test. Now, tell me, in the Chamber of Hovslaag where all our most important and powerful items are kept. What item there do you think the most potent?”
The young boy didn’t have to think this time as he immediately blurted out his answer, “The great Shield of Dar Drawhammer who used it to defeat Gazadum. It was he who freed us from slavery to the elementals!”
Again Udor nodded his head, “And who made that particular item and when?”
“Hovslaag the earth elemental at the Deep Forge but that was before it was the Deep Forge, it was the Forge of Hovslaag then, and we were just slaves.”
Udor frowned as he looked at the young apprentice whom he chose as the most promising of the lot. “And, finally young Fierfelm, where on any of those walls hangs something that I’ve forged?”
The young dwarf eyes began blinking rapidly and he turned to look up at his master, “But, First Edos, you are still master of the Deep Forge, your relic is yet to be hung.”
“Exactly right,” said Udor. “Your answer haunts me. For thirty-five years I’ve had exclusive use of the Deep Forge where Gazadum sat on his throne and shaped the world for years beyond comprehension. The very heat of the first fire elemental which burns hot and strong to this day and yet I’ve produced no great weapon, no legendary shield, nothing; my life is now almost over and I will be eased out of my position soon. That’s what this little ceremony is all about Fierfelm. You should remember that because someday you might be part of a similar event.”
“No, that’s not true Edos!” said the young dwarf his jaw jutting forward and his blue eyes burning with intensity. “You are the finest First Edos since Uromos and your weapons and shields are used by every dwarf champion in the world.”
“That is kind of you to say,” Udor said as he patted the boy on the back again. “But we cannot deny the truth. I’ve forged a few good weapons in my day but nothing to hang next to these,” he said with an expansive wave of his arms. “Nothing to go into the Chamber of Hovslaag. Nothing of any great importance.”
“What about the Blackiron Sword?” said Fierfelm. “It was used it to break the Staff of Faelom in the battle of the Ten Kings. I’ve seen the staff in the Hall of Relics, they say it was fashioned from the remnants of Onod the First after Hezfer the Blue Flame consumed him at the Battle of Tor Saragun.”
“Onod the First. The first and most powerful of the tree shepherds,” mused Udor quietly as his hand once again went to the bands around his beard. This time they tapped the valuable metal at an agitated pace. “I never considered the Staff of Faelom. It’s not dwarf made, ensorcelled by the elves for their king all those years ago. Faelom infused much of his own great power into it before it was broken in half. You know,” went on the First Edos with a glance at Fierfelm, “the shepherds were our allies back then, when we defeated the elementals. Without their help we never would have gained our freedom. I can’t even remember how the burned remains of Onod ended up in the hands of those pretty boy elves in the first place. But, no matter, no matter at all. The Staff of Faelom. The half we have, the bottom half, how long would you say it is?”
Fierfelm shrugged his shoulders, raised his hands and held them apart, “About like that.”
“A little too long for a battle axe handle. A little too short for a war axe, wouldn’t you agree?” said the First Edos.
“I suppose so, First Edos” said Fierfelm with raised eyebrows and a puzzled expression written all over his face. “Yes, that seems true.”
“But just about right for a hammer, a double-handed war hammer,” said Udor as his hands began to move up and down the bands around his beard with great rapidity, and his eyes suddenly blazed brightly. “Have you ever been to the Chamber of Gazadum?”
The boy shook his head silently.
“Come with me,” said the First Edos and strode out the door into the great Deep Forge where the heat of the first fire elemental still burned all these thousands of years later. He led the boy down a massive corridor at least twenty feet wide and more than twice that in height. The red marble floor shone like glass and the intricate patterns: little hammers, maces, shields, anvils, and swords seemed to dance as if alive in the bright light provided by brightly glowing stones embedded into the walls. The little dwarves seemed completely out of place in the immense hallway, but nevertheless they eventually arrived at a huge door made of a single piece of wrought iron with the design of a flame etched into it. The door handle, a massive steel eagle with folded wingsthat looked imperiously out at the world, stood some fifteen feet high on the door. The flame on the door actually seemed to flicker with heat as they approached and Fierfelm slowed a good twenty paces before they arrived, staring with his eyes wide and his mouth open.
“I’m not sure that I’m allowed…,” started Fierfelm but his hands did not tremble and his blue eyes sparkled brightly even in the glare of the brightly lit hallway.
“I make the rules here,” said Udor firmly, fiddling under his smock, pulling out a heavy iron key and winking at the young apprentice. “Get me that ladder over there,” he said and pointed to the corner where an iron ladder rested. It was on wheels and Fierfelm slid it over to the center of the door with an easy motion. Udor dashed up the ladder like a young boy, put they key into the lock of the door, and turned it with a sharp snap. He clamored back down the ladder and shoved it gently which sent it back to its original location. He paused, glanced at Fierfelm with a funny sort of grin, and then pushed the massive door open with a gentle touch of his right hand. It swung open as easily as a feather blows in a soft breeze.
“The Chamber of Gazadum,” he said in a hushed voice. Past the huge door stood a chamber that simply dwarfed even the massive hallway that led up to it. The floor was perfectly polished red marble with veins of fire that seemed to actually blaze across it, the domed ceiling was at least two hundred feet above them. In the center of the chamber stood a massive iron throne with a seat fifty feet above the ground and forty feet from side to side, but Udor did not go towards this. Instead he moved quickly, his gout apparently forgotten, to the other side of the chamber where a smallish iron chest sat on the floor against the back wall, its lid closed.
Udor looked back at Fierfelm who, after hesitating briefly, followed on his heels. Udor smiled again as he started to reach forward, but then suddenly stopped and patted his smock, his pants, and his pockets for a moment before he found a thick set of heavy leather gloves that emanated a greenish glow. “Don’t touch the chest,” he said to the young apprentice, a look of seriousness on his face as he pulled on the gloves. “It’s not locked but it is well protected.”
“I won’t,” whispered Fierfelm and leaned over to watch as the First Edos put on the gloves, reached down, and carefully lifted the lid of the nondescript chest. Inside something glowed with the deepest of reds, so red as to be almost black, like a piece of molten metal just out of the smelter.
“Kanoner,” said Udor and after a moment Fierfelm made out the head of the massive hammer. The thing had no hilt or any adornments other than a few runes burned deeply into it, and these the boy could not read. “This was the first creation at the Deep Forge by someone other than Hovslaag. Edos Orin Firefist made it after we defeated Gazadum and took this place as our own. You’ve seen the heat of the Deep Forge. That’s the residual heat from Gazadum over five thousand years after he fled. Can you imagine what it was like on the day that Dar Drawhammer led our warriors here for the first time, to the Forge of Hovslaag? Imagine it. All that you know did not exist; Craggen Steep our hidden citadel was the seat of power for the great Gazadum back then, Tor Balog they called it, the Mountain of Destiny. This was the first thing to come from the Deep Forge. So hot that no edos has ever been able to mate a handle to it and believe me many have tried. The best have tried but no one has succeeded. They say the heart of Gazadum beats within.”
“What are you going to do?” said Fierfelm his eyes wide, and he suddenly realized he wasn’t breathing.
Udor paused for a single heartbeat and then a grim smile came to his face, “Go to the High Council; tell
