stripped naked in leg shackles and kneeling on the floor before the high council. In the chair formerly occupied by Borrombus sat a tall dwarf with a long beard held in place by heavily bedecked jeweled bands who looked down upon the prisoners. “The evidence of their rebellion is all around us,” said the new councilor with a sharp gesticulation of his right hand towards the maddened crowd.
More jeers came from the audience and someone shouted out, “We will be free of the tyranny of the Firefirsts.”
Another shout came out, “To Corancil, to Empire!”
But a group of young dwarf thugs in one corner of the packed hall shouted back in return, “The High Council has spoken, we are ruled by laws. You speak treason!”
At this the enflamed passions of the crowd exploded as dwarves pulled out axes and hammers and began to attack one another. It was impossible to tell who was on whose side in the melee as they all wore similar uniforms.
“We must cut the head off the rebellion,” shouted the new councilor to the dwarf in the center chair. “Borombus and his allies must die. It is the only way to save Craggen Steep.”
The dwarf in the high council seat looked nervously back and forth to the other councilors. “The period of judgment has not been completed. The laws of Craggen Steep do not allow for execution.”
“The laws are not for emergencies of this nature,” said the new councilor and Councilor Five, formerly Councilor Six, joined him. “High Councilor, this is an emergency of a like not seen in Craggen Steep in thousands of years. The rebels threaten to expose our location to Corancil. To march our armies south with the invasion force. Drastic times call for draconian action!”
The High Councilor again paused, “I do not like to suspend the law,” he said but then a hand-axe, thrown by someone from the balcony struck the high back of his chair with a crack and ricocheted off the heavy stone.
“High Councilor,” said all six of the other councilors almost in unison.
The High Councilor bent down, picked up the axe, and tested the sharpness of the blade with his finger, paused, and then nodded. “Let the traitors face the ultimate penalty.”
A massively built dwarf with a beautifully fashioned double-headed axe with an ivory hilt of the purest white moved forward and towards where Borrombus lay kneeling. The fat dwarf sneered at his executioner and looked up towards the High Councilor, “This is a betrayal of the laws of Craggen Steep and your willingness to embrace it shows that you are in the wrong. Let me go, let my companions go, let Craggen Steep be free to mingle in the world, to realize its full potential!”
“Silence him,” said the High Councilor to the executioner who looked up with unyielding black eyes. “Silence the traitors and let us put this nonsense behind us once and for all.”
A younger dwarf in golden armor suddenly burst through the massive doors at the entrance to the great chamber and this breech in protocol dimmed the cacophony of sound that reverberated through the halls. “Councilors, councilors, High Councilor!” he shouted.
“The chamber is not to be disturbed once in session,” said the High Councilor.
“Dol Delius has returned! He has the Hammer of Fire!”
What little noise was left in the chamber abruptly stopped as dwarves froze with their hands around one another’s throats.
“What?” said the High Councilor his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. “What do you say?”
“Dol Delius has returned,” said the soldier, and to prove the point Dol staggered into the room. His face was an unrecognizable ruin and his armor fused with flesh stiffened his walk so that he looked more like a puppet on a string than a dwarf warrior, but he held the Hammer of Fire and the great weapon pulsed like a beating heart and glowed with the radiance of the sun.
“I have returned,” he said and held the hammer high.
“Just in time,” said Councilor Five as he stared at the raw power of the hammer and licked his lips. “I move that we make Dol Delius First Edos so that he might replace the previous office holder once execution takes place.”
“What?” said the High Councilor with a sudden turn towards his brother.
“Don’t listen to them, Dol,” said Borrombus from the floor. “They mean to bribe you. You’ve been in the world, you know we must strike out from this place.”
“The motion is seconded,” said one of the dwarves in the golden armor.
“A vote,” prompted Councilor Five.
“Yes,” said the High Councilor. “The motion has been seconded. We must have a vote.”
“There will be no more votes,” wheezed Dol barely able to breath. “There will be no more High Council. The dwarves of Craggen Steep will take their place in the world for good or for ill. I have slain Gazadum and yet his words live in me. Let Craggen Steep be free! Let dwarves live free. Let us all live our lives to their fullest and never again hide, never again let fear determine our path.”
With this he raised the hammer high over this head and slammed it down onto the massive granite floor fashioned countless eons ago by the greatest of the earth elementals. The floor cracked, but the pulsing hammer simply exploded sending eight shards of molten death sailing through the air like falcons diving towards their prey.
The seven councilors were dead before they even fully understood what happened, and a gasp of shock came from the crowd as if from a single entity. Dol looked down at his own chest, where the eighth shard rested, and smiled. He was dead before he hit the floor.
The dwarves in the balcony and the floor stormed as one towards the raised podium, and the golden armored soldiers threw down their weapons and fled. Dol’s eyes, although open, saw none of this. Nor did his ears hear the cries of freedom that rang up and down the ancient halls. His body did not feel the hands that lifted him, that carried him, nor did he hear as they called out his name again and again long into the night.
“Freedom! Freedom! Dol Delius and Freedom!”
Epilog
Jurus Thrimskull did not like these deep passages of the Maw where Edos Edorin Firefist often came to do his meditation. The fumes of the Black Fire were intense and the heat even more so. He wore a mask on his face and a heavy linen smock to keep as much of the heat from his body as possible. “Why is it always me,” he muttered to himself as he turned a corner and saw the dim black glow of the ancient cavern ahead. The heat seared him and even with his magically treated mask he felt his lungs burning, “Go get Edorin” he said in a high- pitched, whiny voice. “Why is it always me?”
He took a few more steps forward and saw the form of the dwarf master blacksmith standing near the open chasm below which roiled the Black Fire. The heat of it drove Jorus back a step and he turned his head away, “Edos Edorin?” he said in a small voice but the words seemed to die in the atmosphere. The apprentice coughed, “Edos Edorin?” he repeated a bit louder.
The master of the black forge sighed and turned towards his best apprentice, “What is it, Jorus?”
“The trade master wants to know if we will have this month’s shipment ready for Queen Onolodia?”
“You know the answer to that,” said Edorin as he turned back towards the river of black fire that flowed beneath him. It leapt and bubbled with turbulence and the heat waves distorted the air. He breathed in deeply and smiled.
“I told the trade master that the Black Fire is running hot and that all shipments are delayed, but he wants you to tell him,” said Jorus and lowered his gaze.
Edorin nodded his head and put his hand to his beard. He wasn’t wearing his metal circlets as they tended to heat up too much down here in the bowels of the Maw where the Black Fire burned hottest. “I understand. I’ll be up shortly. Come here, Jorus, come and look upon the Black Fire.”
Jorus sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and hesitatingly walked forward towards Edorin. The heat was intense, and the boy put his hand in front of his face to try and ward off some of the power of the furnace below. He looked down upon the lava not for the first time and blinked in awe at the power. This was the source of all the wealth of Hot Rock. No one had managed to harness it until Edorin arrived some thirty years ago, before Jorus was born.
