them the ceremony is postponed. Go to the other master edoses and tell them the Deep Forge is closed, closed for at least a year. Then go to the Hall of Relics, smash the case where the Staff of Faelom rests, bring it to me!”
The young dwarf hesitated for the briefest of moments and thought to suggest to Udor that such an action might well get him in quite a bit of trouble, of the capital kind, but one look at the dwarf, his eyes ablaze, squelched any protest in its infancy. “Yes, master Udor. It will be done.”
Chapter 1
“I’m telling you,” said a young dwarf with broad shoulders and a dull but excited expression on his face as he sat the heavy stone table and set a thick pewter mug down with a thump. “It’s just sitting there. No guards, no wards, no nothing. It’s there for the taking!” He wore a light blue tunic stitched with the symbol of an anvil along the chest and one yellow bar across the right sleeve. His eyes were a dark brown that approached black and he wore a sloppy fishtail braid that held his hair in check although a number of strands seemed to have escaped. His beard was short and banded by only a single bronze hoop with a tiny yellowish gemstone in the center that was so small it almost blended into invisibility.
“Do you think there’s a reason for that?” said a petite halfling girl at the chair to his right as she took a sip of an emerald liquid from a dainty little glass with a long stem. Her long blonde hair reached down to her waist and she winked at the third member of the party, a young dwarf, who sat opposite her at the table. Her eyes were a strange golden yellow with tiny little pupils of darkest black. She wore a colorful blouse of thick wool embroidered with little hammers and bellows of pink and blue.
“Who cares if there’s a reason,” said the first dwarf picking up his own mug that was filled with a dark brown fluid that made a sloshing sound as he poured a generous amount down his throat. The mug had the picture of a tall mountain in bas relief on its side and he slammed it to the table with a powerful crash. “It’s the Hammer of Fire! It’s ours for the taking if we want it. We’ll head west to Das’von, join Corancil’s invasion army, and make names for ourselves, and riches too!”
“Maybe you should consider why the hammer isn’t guarded,” said the third member of the gathering. He was also a dwarf although taller than his companion but with unbraided hair that barely reached the back of his neck. He wore a similar blue tunic as the first dwarf, although in place of the single yellow band there were three red stripes atop a blue chevron. “There might be a good reason.” His beard was short and carefully cropped with no band whatsoever.
At the tables around them sat dozens more dwarves with similar blue tunics although a few red and orange jerkins stood out in the crowd. The place was noisy and the loud tones of the first dwarf barely rose above the general din. A long bar stood against the far wall and half a dozen dwarf girls, each wearing a silver tunic with gold stitching around the sleeves in the pattern of interlacing fire tongs, scurried back and forth to it with alternately full and empty trays. Behind the bar three stout dwarves with heavy jerkins worked back and forth between sets of taps that dispensed frothy fluid when they pulled the levers.
“It’s because the thing is hot as a fire log and has been ever since it was made,” said the burly first dwarf, and pounding his fist on the thick stone table which did not shake even slightly. “Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying?”
“I’ve become accustomed to tuning out your hair-brained schemes, Brogus,” said the tall dwarf with the short beard and raised his hand to one of the pretty dwarf girls. This one carried a heavy pitcher made of iron with thick handles crafted to look like an eagle, “Layla, our friend here needs another one to clear his mind.”
“I do need another one to clear my mind,” said the other dwarf as a large grin came across his face revealing a set of brown stained teeth, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t need another one, Dol.”
“As long as you’re buying,” said the halfling girl, holding out her suddenly empty little glass to the waitress, and giving a wink with her strange yellow eyes to Brogus.
“Oh no, no you don’t, Milli. That elf wine of yours costs more than my apprenticeship pays in a week. If you want another glass then pay yourself,” said Brogus with a shake of his head and a single slam of his fist on the table. This time the heavy blow caused the glasses to wobble slightly and some of Dol’s drink, still all but full, tipped over and spilled out with a gentle splash.
The halfling girl smiled, flipped her long hair, and in a trifling two young dwarf apprentices, their overalls washed clean, were over at the table, “I’ll buy for you, Milli,” they said in tandem as if practiced.
“Shut up!” said the first dwarf who wore one of the few orange cloaks in the tavern. His hair was red, tied back in a square 4-band braid, and held together by four golden clasps shaped like hammers. On his left sleeve three silver bands with two chevrons underneath showed and his beard came down almost to mid-chest. “I’m the senior and you’ll not interfere.”
“You may be senior at the forge but you can’t order me about here at Thokum’s,” said the taller of the two. He wore one of the blue jerkins although the bands and chevrons on his sleeves were more numerous than Dol’s. He shouldered the smaller dwarf aside and smiled at Milli, revealing teeth almost black from standing too close to the iron smelter. It was a common ailment among dwarves and wealthier members of the society often replaced their teeth with precious stones and solid gold.
Milli smiled winsomely and winked at him with one yellow eye, her long eyelashes fluttering briefly. “I was hoping someone brave enough might order me another drink.”
The stout dwarf smiled at her with goofy grin on his face, and this moment of inattention was all his companion needed as he landed a heavy blow to the side of his friend’s head. This bigger dwarf stumbled sideways for half a second but then turned to his competitorstill grinning but no longer in pleasure. He licked his lip and a trickle of blood came to his tongue. With a single motion he stepped forward and pushed the smaller dwarf with a quick extension of both his hands. The shorter dwarf braced his legs in anticipation of the blow and only rocked back on his heels slightly before he stepped forward and grabbed the bigger one by the lapels. “I’m your superior and you’ll do as I say wherever we are!”
“Every single time, Milli,” said Dol lifting his mug and pushing back and away from the table.
“What did I do?” said Milli, and held her hands up as she smiled from ear to ear. Her eyes twinkled as she turned her body slightly to get a better view of the two dwarves, now chin to chin and glaring at one another.
“I’ll buy the drink,” said the little one with the orange cloak as the two began to wrestle wildly. After a few moments the little one got the big one in headlock and drove him forward and into Dol’s chair. The bigger dwarf hit not the back of the chair, as was intended, but Dol’s shoulder. He cannoned off the short-haired dwarf, and fell over backwards to the stone floor as his eyes rolled back in his head and lay there unmoving.
Dol balanced his drink in one hand and shook his head as he looked once again at Milli. “You do this on purpose, every time.” The heavy blow to his shoulder went apparently all but unnoticed.
The winner staggered back, his hair disheveled, one of the braids loose in his hair, and smiled dazedly at Milli. “I’ll drink that get now,” he said and staggered off towards the bar giving a cheerful smile towards the halfling girl, “I’ve got it all taken care of.”
“See, that’s my point!” said Brogus and pointed to the vanquished apprentice on the floor who gave off a little groan. “We’ve got Dol on our side. His skin is as thick as a brick and you’ve seen him carry hot coals from the fire in his closed fist. That mother of his must have been made of ironwood.”
The young dwarf in question raised his eyes and stared at Brogus and held his gaze for several seconds before he spoke in steady, even tones, “My grandfather was a tree shepherd.”
“Grandfather, mother, uncle, cousin, what does it matter?” said Brogus as he stood up and looked down at Dol with his eyes shining intensely and his fists clenched in front of him. “You’ve skin as thick and tough as any dwarf ever born and you could take…,” he seemed prepared to continue but a kick under the table from Milli stopped him in mid-sentence.
“Sit down and listen for once,” she said her smile gone and with a slight little twitch of her nose. “Brogus, just because everyone says you’re stupid doesn’t mean you have to act stupid all the time.”
Brogus stared defiantly at her for half a second but was unable to maintain the gaze, sat down with a thump, and rubbed his ankle through the thick hide boot on his foot. “You’ve got sharp little toes for such a pretty thing,” he said in a lowered tone and with a glance at Milli.
Milli smiled and the slightest hint of red came to her cheeks, “Brogus, do you think that just because it’s
