Far in the horizon, a mountain range came into view.
They were going to the closest base of one of those mountains, as the road would lead to the entrance to the great mine of the dwarves.
Vell gestured ahead. “Just over that ridge, we’ll reach the entrance.”
Sonder squinted, catching glimpses of stonework built into the mountain’s base, carved statues of what were most likely dwarven warriors of the past on either side of a massive arched entryway.
The statues were crafted with such skill that even from afar, she could see the fine details etched into their beards and armor. In the fading daylight, they looked almost alive. As if at anytime they would yawn and stretch to get rid of the stiffness of having to stand in place for long.
Sonder was struck by the sheer scale of the place.
It wasn’t just the size of the entrance but also the stone archway that towered overhead when she and Vell entered. It was decorated with carvings of hammer and anvil, symbols of the dwarven craft, as well as intricate scenes of dwarven miners and blacksmiths at work.
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The crowd funneled into the arched entrance, flowing like a river into the heart of the mountain. Sturdy wooden platforms carried goods up and down, and dwarves shouted commands to guide the heavy loads. Massive chains, much thicker as her arm, moved rhythmically up and down, descending into depths so far down that Sonder couldn’t see where they ended, carrying people and cargo alike into the mine’s lower levels.
“Stay close,” Vell said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s easy to get lost here if you don’t know the way.”
She nodded, sticking close to him.
Inside, the walls of the great hall were lit with giant braziers on pillars that cast their glow over the smooth stone.
Everything here was built with precision and care. Even the floor beneath her feet was embedded with a colorful mosaic of stones.
They passed a group of even smaller dwarves, most likely children, who looked up at them with wide eyes, not having seen someone who looked like them before.
Their faces were streaked with soot and dust, but they wore proud expressions as they helped their elders carry small loads or polish stones.
Some of the older dwarves gave Vell nods of recognition, and a few murmured greetings in a language she didn’t understand, their voices deep and gravelly.