Eight Era, cycle 1721, season of Unkh day 216

Ember tipped her flask upside down disconsolately, waiting for the last trickles of Field Jacket’s finest vodka to dribble out into her glass. The ice cube rattled around, and Ember looked forlornly into the glass for a moment before tipping the liquid down her throat. She made to throw her flask away, paused and put it back in her pocket.

‘Something the matter?’ Zyol asked, picking rat from his teeth with a calloused nail.

‘I’m out of spirits,’ Ember said.

Zyol leaned over, pulled a bottle from his pack and handed it over.

‘What’s this?’ Ember asked, pulling the stopper off and sniffing it.

‘Now I know it don’t smell like much,’ Zyol said, catching Ember’s expression.

‘It smells like moss and damp.’

‘It’s used mostly for cleaning cuts, so they don’t get infected.’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard of people doing that; it sounds like a waste of good vodka.’

‘Well, in a pinch, it’s good to have something to hand,’ Zyol explained.

Ember grunted and poured out a measure; it looked vaguely like whisky.

Ember knocked it back and made a face.

‘That’s not the worst thing I’ve had in my mouth, I guess,’ she declared, ‘but it doesn’t burn like proper spirts do.’

‘Try this,’ Zyol said, leaning over and pulling out a thick, greenish tube.

‘What is it?’ Ember asked, taking it.

‘A fungus cigar; it’s not got any nicotine in it, so it won’t help the craving, but it burns the back of the throat and warms you up like a good whisky.’

Ember sniffed it; it smelled like a saag curry she’d had once. She pulled a little box from her pocket, extracted a wood stick from it and scraped off the wax tip with a thumb nail. She then struck the match against a rock and lit the cigar. It did burn the throat, but didn’t burn the lungs; it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation.

‘Not bad,’ she admitted.

‘The best part of it is that you can throw it in a soup to make a hearty broth,’ a dwarf by the name Ennolk said.

After breakfast, they continued their walk south into terrain that quickly became mountainous. As they walked along a path seemingly cut through a rock face, Ember caught a glimpse of a towering rock face, which was not unusual in their current terrain. However, there was something different about this particular cliff.

‘I’ve never seen a dwarven escutcheon before,’ Ember said.

‘We have coats of arms; dwarven families are just as proud as any others. Why do you ask?’ a dwarf named Alban queried.

‘Oh, I’m not asking; I’m just saying it’s odd to see one,’ Ember replied.

‘Where’d you see one before then?’ Alban asked.

‘Just over there on the cliff face; you can see it occasionally over the wall,’ Ember answered, nodding over the top of a wall that separated the road from an area susceptible to rock slides.

The party stopped, and Ember found herself the centre of attention.

‘Run that by us again,’ Alban requested.

‘Well, there’s a massive flag over there with a coat of arms on it,’ Ember said, pointing.

‘Really, some fool’s plastered a “we are here” symbol over an entrance to the dwarf highway? Dar’var!’ Ennolk cursed.

‘What does this flag look like?’ Alban asked.

‘Well, it’s royal blue, with gold trimmings, and what looks like a golden nugget as the crest.’

‘Golden nugget? Anyone know whose symbol that is?’ Ennolk said to the other dwarfs.

‘You sure it’s a nugget?’ Zyol asked.

‘Well, it’s in gold thread; what else could it be? A golden turd?’ Ember replied.

None of the dwarfs seemed to know whose house had the symbol of a nugget, but the oldest dwarf Tarmire was laughing hard.

‘A golden turd? That’s the symbol of Mardar’s house. We used to call them the Royal Arses,’ Tarmire said chuckling away.

‘Who are the Mardars?’ Ennolk asked.

‘I always wondered why Coprolite Ally had the nickname Arse End before,’ Alban stated.

Tarmire nodded. ‘The symbol of house Mardar is dwarf bread. There’s nothing wrong with dwarf bread; it’s a good solid symbol. But when you see it embroidered or painted on something it looks like a golden turd, so they got the nickname and that then gave their city its nickname.’

‘Mardar. Why would anyone be flying the flag of Mardar?’ Ennolk asked.

‘I don’t like the sound of this; I have an idea, but I hope I’m wrong,’ Zyol said, shaking his head sadly.

*

When they reached the cliff face, the dwarfs led Ember on a very unusual path. It looked like they were going to walk into the wall; however, just before they reached the wall, a path to the side became visible for them to turn down, but the rock was cut or styled in such a way that the corners blended perfectly into the rock face, so that the turnings were impossible to observe before reaching them.

‘I feel like I should be blindfolded for this,’ Ember said as they walked.

‘There’s no need; whilst we don’t encourage visitors, we don’t send them away either,’ confirmed Zyol.

Eventually, they reached a small clearing with what was a dead end and not simply a camouflaged corner.

Zyol, the lead dwarf, banged the butt of his axe against a flat stone, which let out a deep tone more akin to a large gong.

The rock face reverberated like a rippling pool of water; once the ripples reached the end of the wall, they bounced back, and when two ripples collided the surface vanished. The opening grew and expanded until the entire wall disappeared and a tunnel wider than any road Ember had ever seen stretched out before them, lit with candles and glowing gems.

‘Welcome to Landfall, the first of our highways ever to be revealed to your kind,’ Zyol announced.

The group walked in.

The highway had a slight curve to the floor that allowed rain and animal waste to flow into gullies. Along the sides, stalls had been carved from the walls, and the walls had been forced back to allow room for carts and things to stand behind the stalls. People of all races (well, many of them) lined the stalls, squabbling over prices, and creatures – from horses to tamed bears, half-giants pulling large carts, and creatures Ember had never seen before – lined the roads carrying or pulling passengers.

‘We’ll stop in here; I think I should explain a few things, you know.’ It wasn’t Zyol who’d spoken, but Lyre who’d been a dwarf of few words up until that point.

*

They all sat around a large table in a busy tavern, and Lyre waited until they’d all been served drinks.

He began, ‘Many of you sitting here will be wondering what our quest is, and many of you have come along for adventure or perhaps to avoid attention. You see, troubling rumours reached my old ears and I, along with Alban, resolved to investigate. Zyol’s father was an old friend of mine, so I asked him to lead our group, even though I kept him in the dark about the truth of our affair.

‘Let me start from the beginning, so that our human friend and those of you who don’t pay attention to our history will be able to follow. Around 1,000 years ago in the great city of Tuspour, a vein of arterium was found.’ Lyre said taking a gulp of ale.

There were impressed noises from the dwarfs, and Ember looked around, confused.

‘What’s arterium?’ she asked.

‘It is one of the twenty-nine magical elements, along with moonstone, soul crystal, glass stone and plasmalite. The magical periodic table is rather different to the normal periodic table of elements, and although normal minerals such as bronze and other composite metals can be enchanted, they require recharging; items made from the magical elements don’t,’ Clang said.

‘Oh, don’t let him start; we don’t have time for him to Carpenter it,’ Zyol declared to nods of agreement.

‘Clang is right,’ Lyre agreed. ‘Moonstone grows from marble infused with moonlight, soul crystals grow in a crystal garden created by an onyx heart, you know, and so on. Arterium is red like blood – most creatures’ blood anyway – and how it grows is a mystery. Not that we’d tell anyone if we knew.’

There were laughs, and the pounding of fists on the table.

Lyre continued, ‘The vein of arterium led the miners to a large cavern and to a systems of tunnels cut by no dwarf; there the creature known as terrainmoles were discovered, which are creatures that lived below ground, you know. This was a profound moment, as many now believe that the deep-downers evolved from dwarf and terrainmoles coupling. What we weren’t prepared for was their territorial nature, and war has been almost constant since their discovery. This war has been ongoing for hundreds of years, you know, and because it takes place in Tuspour, the capital of dwarven kind, it means that the king and his family have been under threat, right, boy? As we know, some twenty years ago disaster struck, and the terrainmoles made it into the castle and killed our king and his family to the last, right, boy? It has taken some twenty years, but, finally, the deep-downers have named Garret as our new king.’

There were more nods and banging of fists.

‘What many of you won’t know, you know, is the turmoil this has caused for many of our cousins. Civil wars have started all over the dwarven world, and it was hoped that having a new king named would finally cease these wars. Unfortunately, Mardar has made it known that he disagrees with the naming of Garret as king, and Mardar has labelled himself the true king, as he carries the royal blood,’ Lyre explained.

‘That’s ridiculous. Marder’s five-times-great-grandmother was the seventh child, and his claim carries little credence,’ Zyol said dismissively.

‘Circumstance names him the closest living relative of the king, right, boy? So many feel he has a rightful say,’ Lyre said.

‘But what causes his colours to be flown here?’ Tarmire asked.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Zyol replied darkly. ‘He’s making a play for the throne and seeing how many places are loyal to him.’

‘But that’s nonsense; the council has spoken.’ Tarmire stated.

‘And civil war looms once more. Only, this time, there won’t be raids in the outermost cities; they will infest the heart of our lands, perhaps even threaten Tuspour itself. The council cannot release any of the royal guards; they are needed to keep the terrainmoles at bay, right, boy?’ Lyre replied.

Zyol nodded. ‘So it is war.’

‘I am afraid so,’ commiserated Lyre.

‘Good. Those traitorous dogs could do with having their kneecaps removed!’ Tarmire said, and a few of the other dwarfs laughed.

‘What about the other kings and things; are any of them making a play for the Tuspour throne?’ Ember asked, and nearly all the dwarfs looked confused.

‘What do you mean? Do you mean the king’s children? They were all killed,’ Ennolk explained.

‘No, I mean one of the kings from a different land?’ queried Ember.

‘What other lands? Is there another planet you can travel too?’ Alban asked, confused.

‘She speaks of permanent division,’ Pidarp said, eating a locust from their previous quest; he’d grown a taste for them. ‘The humans split the world up into portions and kings rule in each piece.’

‘Then what do they call the one who rules above them?’ Ennolk questioned.

‘There isn’t one,’ Pidarp replied. ‘What you should know, Ember, is that we dwarfs have our divisions and disagreements, but we all understand that we are all dwarfs. What bit of dirt you were born on, how much suntan you have and what accent you have: these things matter not to dwarfs. We are dwarfs; we are all dwarfs. We have but one king, and but one set of laws. Yes, the chief of a city might make a few ad hoc laws, but the Dwarven Laws are true for all dwarfs. We are dwarfs; whether we’re from here or the other side of the world, we are dwarfs. One dwarf, one king.’

‘So this Marder is making a claim over all of you?’ Ember asked.

‘Indeed,’ said Lyre.

‘How can you stop it?’ Ember probed.

‘We don’t intend to,’ Lyre confirmed.

‘Let kings do king things; what does it matter to the normal dwarf?’ Ennolk said.

‘All they care about are their bellies and their dicks!’ Zyol shouted to cheers and jeers.

‘We are heading to Shoreditch, as we are going to stop a dwarf named Nery. He owns a large mine and has been looking for a chance to extend his territory for many decades. Word reached me that he flies the banners of Marder and is using this succession as an excuse to start a war with Aduen to take his lands, as Aduen is known to support the judgement of the deep-downers. Aduen is Zyol’s cousin, you know,’ Lyre said.

‘Okay, so there’s to be a new king in town, there’s going to be a fight over who gets to rule, and this Nery thinks he can use the name of Marder to invade Aduen’s lands to extend his own. “Look, my liege, I took down this infidel in your name; let me keep these lands as a reward. Oh whoops, the other guy won. No hard feelings, but the old tenant is dead, so I might as well keep these lands and look after them.” Right, I get that. But why do you lot care?’ Ember asked.

‘Because we haven’t had a good fight in years,’ Tarmire replied, wiping beer foam from his beard.

‘I used to be young once, and, in the impossible time of long ago, I was in a band with Zyol’s father and cousin. I don’t forget my debts,’ Lyre confirmed.

‘And why are the rest of you here?’ Ember asked, looking around at the assembled dwarfs.

Money and experience points were the main reasons given; Zyol was family, and a few of the other dwarfs also seemed to be related.

‘And, now you know, what will you do?’ Zyol asked.

‘I think I’ll stay. I’ve never been one to fight for a cause, so it’ll be nice to try it for a change. So what’s the plan? Do we turn up and kill everyone that needs killing?’ Ember pondered.

‘That’s not our first choice; first, we’ll go to see the hermits, to see if the records of the area show Aduen has true claim over the lands,’ Lyre responded.

‘You’ve lost me again. I’m a simple lass: I kill, I drink, I fuck. I don’t do much else,’ Ember elucidated.

‘You can’t just invade another dwarf’s lands, you know, just because his policies are different from yours, right, boy? Nery’s claim relies on the fact that Aduen’s ancestors were gifted the sole contract to mine the lands by favour of a deceased monarch. Because, you know, now Aduen is backing someone against the lineage of the royal family, Nery argues that he should be released from the contract. If, however, Aduen was gifted or bought the lands, and not the contract to mine, then the contract would have no release clause and Nery’s action will be against dwarf law, right, boy?’ Lyre said.

‘There is precedent,’ Alban agreed, nodding.

‘There’s a president to my arsehole, but I don’t let it talk for me!’ Ennolk said.

‘That’s precedent, not president,’ sighed Clang.

‘These are our laws!’ Alban replied hotly.

‘My forefathers were given the lands; tricksy language be cursed!’ Zyol exclaimed.

‘And the hermits will have this evidence?’ asked Ember.

Lyre clarified, ‘The hermits have all the records; a copy of everything that a dwarf has ever had recorded for legal purposes is with the hermits. They are the record keepers.’

‘The hermits don’t have any drink,’ Clang said, shaking his head sadly.

‘The hermits are our history,’ Alban replied.

Clang scoffed, ‘They are paper dwarfs.’

‘Well, fingers crossed that they can help,’ Ember stated.

Lyre added, ‘The hermits are in the hills of Dur’uth.’

‘Yep, that means nothing,’ Ember said.

‘The records are sealed and sent via high wire to the hermits. But travellers can only get there through the Sealed Pass,’ Ennolk said tapping his nose.

‘If it’s sealed, how do we get through?’ Ember asked, and she’d guessed right.

Ennolk’s face lit up with glee. ‘It only opens in the eye of a storm. One’s due in a week or so.’

‘Oh, I don’t like the sound of that.’ Ember said, shaking her head.

*

‘Hey! Hey you, what’s your name? Human, Ember! That’s it, Ember; over here!’ cried one of the dwarfs.

It was the next day, and Ember was strolling through the market, picking up the odd items and mostly putting them back. She had purchased a few items, however.

New item: Keenly Whisper

This book is the latest in the series from Ernest Mefester; you have to buy it. “JULIAAAAAN!” Its durability is 15/15 and it weighs 0.2 kg.

New item: boots made for walking

They’ll keep your feet cushioned, don’t require socks and are guaranteed to be blister free.

They offer 5 protection points; durability is 23/23, which is not too shabby; and are lightweight for boots, at 0.33 kg. They are unfashionable for some, but you have the calves for tall boots of sturdy leather.

New item: cute coat

This is a cropped coat, which could allow you to show off your navel or at least show the world the sleek and firm lines of your stomach. The coat has wallawall fur on the inside, keeping you nice and cosy in the cold, although the short style of the coat makes it impractical to wear in the winter.

It offers 2.5 protection points, its durability is 30/30, and is lightweight at 0.13 kg.

New item; pot of cave berries x7

These berries have had a few things added to them to make them a sticky mush, like a berry burger, in a way. They regenerate 9 health points over 39 seconds, and weigh 0.1 kg each. But, mainly, they’ll keep hunger at bay for 6 hours, thanks to the secret recipe.

New item: Moves from the Dark Place

This book was written by Haden Archer; it describes a single attack, but is part of a long series of books. Reading this book with either grant you a new skill or increase your proficiency with twin daggers. Its durability is 1/15, it has possibly been read previously by two people, which hopefully means it’s good shit (you’ve been spending too much time with dwarfs,) and it weighs 0.2 kg.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

New item: stamina potion x7

This is a stamina potion; you’ve had enough of these to know what to expect.

New item: surprisingly sexy and practical breast straps x5

Who knew dwarfs had an eye for such things?

They offer 2 protection points, their durability is 15/15, and they weigh next to nothing, at 0.01 kg each.

New item: mysterious item

You have no idea what it is, but something about it caught your fancy.

‘Ember, come over here; come on.’ The dwarf ushering Ember over was Sisal, the last of the group, in addition to Ennolk, Lyre, Pidarp, Zyol, Alban, Clang and Tarmire.

‘Check this out,’ Sisal said, waving Ember down a narrow passage and into a hot room in which cheering people were clustered. ‘It’s an elok fight!’

Ember gawped; eloks were a favourite of hers. It was commonly assumed that most little girls liked eloks – as it was assumed that most little girls liked pink or unicorns or rainbows, and that each girl should grow into modest, virtuous woman who should marry any man who pressed their suit – even if she rebukes them at first. Well, Ember had liked eloks, pink and unicorns, and had grown up to be an assassin moonlighting as a prostitute, and the closest she’d got to a rainbow was the Rainbow Campaign, which stood for anybody of any race being able to date anybody else of any race. And anybody around Ember who continued to hit on her, even after she’d turned them down, was liable for a black eye – unless they paid for her services, of course. Business was business.

Race: elok

Genus: rodent

Class: F

Eloks are small, furry creatures and are ranked constantly in the top five in the “cutest animal of the year” poll in What Now? magazine. They were once described as looking like the fluffy backside of a hamster, and, indeed, this description wouldn’t be far off the truth, with the fluffy tail being the nose, and if the elok had its inordinately large and spherical eyes closed.

Affiliation: Hestia

Harvestable items: the young are worth a mint to most teenage girls

State: idle

Level: 7

Health 175/175, stamina 175/175, mana 175/175

Bestiary increased

The elok was squatting on a large oval that had been drawn on the sand floor; presumably, the sand had been placed there for this purpose. Then the oval was divided into rectangles, a bit like a chess board, with the rectangles at the edges being naturally smaller. Some of the rectangles had markings on them, which Ember knew were glyphs – glyphs are magical traps. The magicka was placed on the ground or on a wall, and took the shape of a letter from an obscure language. The magicka created an ever-so-faint radiance; whoever had placed these glyphs had first drawn the symbol in the sand for those watching the sport to know where the traps were placed. Engravings are different to glyphs in that the engraving has to be physically etched into the item.

The eloks (there could be as many as six) were placed at different points on the board, and given crude armour and weapons. The eloks had just enough intelligence to recognise the maze-like design and had been trained to lure the other eloks onto the glyphs, which would discharge their magicka and kill the elok. The armour could offer a boost to the elok – or it might just be for show, depending on the owner’s wealth. The weapons were mostly for show, as only one elok had ever been known to be able to use its weapon.

The thing that made Ember’s mouth drop was a small elok running away from a larger elok, only for the smaller elok to run over a glyph in its fear. The glyph exploded, the health bar of the elok plummeted, and the elok sat on its haunches, with its fur sticking out on end, the tips soot black and its eyebrows burned off, so that it had a comical stunned look.

‘That’s so cruel!’ Ember said.

‘Nah, they’re tough little varmints, and they get knocked out before any real damage can befall them. They’re a bit of a pest anyway; they keep finding ways into the food storage. Did you know that an elok left alone with food will just eat until it dies of overeating? They’ve no control,’ explained Sisal.

‘Why were you so excited to show me this?’ Ember asked, watching an elok run over a trap, which opened the tile, and dropped the elok into a hidden room and out of the match.

‘I’ve got money on the big one; good odds too. You want in?’

‘No, I’ll give it a pass thanks.’

‘Suit yourself.’

Ember left Sisal and returned to the underground highway. A soothing scent got Ember salivating, and she followed her nose to a stall that was set in the wall and not carved out of it like most stalls. It left the stall with a low celling (although not dwarf sized; it was a bit taller than that), and a busy crowd made Ember feel slightly claustrophobic, but the scent of the drinks pulled Ember on. She fought shoulder to shoulder with the other people to get to the front of the queue, and then had to compete with the calls of the other customers. A squat dwarf (who was short even for a dwarf) said something to her that she didn’t understand, and it caused Ember to fumble her order; the draconian beside her got his order in and also spoke in the same language Ember didn’t understand. Presumably, the draconian was a he anyway; it was hard to tell, and, for similar reasons, it was hard to tell the sex of the dwarfs.

Draconians were tall, all well over 6 feet, with some reptilian features and some human features, so that they stood on two legs and had two arms, but had reptile faces and skin ranging from green to greys and even reds. The common belief was that, just like in the wild, the more colourful the draconian, the more poisonous they were. They didn’t just have poisonous bites either; the really brightly coloured ones were said to have toxic scales. The draconians had males and females, but since the draconians were reptilian in nature and androgynous in appearance, the females had no breasts and their bodies were the same build as the males – if usually slightly taller and bigger than the males.

Dwarfs, by comparison, all had long hair and beards, and tended to wear thick leather or chain mail, so the differences in build were impossible to notice, and they didn’t differentiate between the genders in dwarven culture. Each dwarf used the male pronoun and made no comment to hint at their gender. As such, everyone else had learned to treat all dwarfs as male. If the gender pay gap did exist, as some female adventurers would have you believe, the draconians and dwarfs weren’t affected.

Ember’s confusion caused others to beat her in placing an order a few more times, and the one time she did get the attention of a server, she couldn’t get her order across because of the language barrier, which caused a lot of aggravation from the server and the customers as she was slowing the process down.

‘What you ordering?’ a voice called beside her.

Ember looked down to see the unmistakeable moustache of Pidarp. His jawline had been badly burned from ear to ear and left scars that looked like acid burns, which made him the only dwarf Ember had seen without a beard.

‘Do you smell that smooth, almost chocolaty smell blended in the air? I’ll have whatever that’s called.’

Pidarp nodded and ordered, then took their drinks over to a miraculously free spot on the large couch that ran the length of the back wall.

‘Have you been travelling the roads long?’ Ember asked.

‘For the best part of a year,’ Pidarp replied.

‘Oh wow; isn’t the succession over by now?’

‘Oh no. Dwarven successions take years, even when they aren’t as complicated as this one.’

‘That’s strange; with humans, the idea is to get the next king as soon as possible. There is never a time when the throne is officially recognised as unoccupied. “The king is dead, long live the king,” as they say, meaning that the old king is dead but the new king is already in place. I’m not sure I’m explaining this very well.’

‘Well, we take a longer-term view of the thing. Act in haste, repent in leisure.’

‘Well, we don’t choose as it’s the eldest child.’

Pidarp shrugged then said, ‘May I ask you something in private?’

‘Sure.’

‘What’s it like being a girl?’

‘Um, I’m not sure; it’s all I’ve ever been. I mean it sucks that every man thinks he has this innate right to ask you out, no matter what you’re doing at the time, and that if you say no, he sees it simply as a challenge to win you over until you get so run down by his asking that you can’t be bothered to say no any more, and if you get annoyed with his pestering, he gets upset that you’ve taken away a basic human right!’ Ember paused to breathe. ‘Sex aside, mentally and physically, I don’t know. Breasts are great, periods – not so much.’

‘Is being a woman any different to being a man, do you think?’

‘Well, some things are, I guess. Gods forbid you be happy being single; they take it as an insult.’

‘I’m not sure that’s what I mean,’ Pidarp replied.

‘Oh sorry, what did you mean?’

‘Well, it’s just… I’ve been thinking of having a child.’

‘Oh, congratulations! So you want to know if you should take your girl with you on quests or something?’

‘No, no; nothing like that. You see, when a dwarf, or two dwarfs, as the case may be – although being a single parent amongst dwarfs isn’t unusual, see, we rather liberal in some ways – wants to have a child then certain things need to be considered.’

‘If you could be a bit more direct?’

‘No, no; this was a mistake,’ Pidarp replied and hurried away.

The hot drink was delicious, just the salve for the cool and slightly moist dwarf tunnel. Ember had pulled her coat on to protect against the chill of the highway, and was just perambulating around. She wasn’t old – although she wasn’t sure of her exact age – and had travelled in her young life, yet had never seen anything like the dwarven highway.

‘Hey you! Over here, lass!’ came another dwarven voice.

Ember turned, starting to get irked by being referred to as “hey you”.

‘Oh yeah; hey.’ Ember said, recognising Tarmire and fighting against the instinct to say something scathing. She couldn’t think of that something, but it would have put Tarmire in his place for saying “hey you”.

‘Out on the town?’ he enquired.

Ember laughed. ‘Yes, you could say that.’

‘Have you seen the Lantern yet? Or the Woven Pass? Tell me you’ve seen Salient Point?’

‘I can’t say I’ve seen any of those places,’ Ember said with a “what are you going to do?” shrug.

‘Well, it’s a good thing that you’ve run into me; I want to take you to all those places – and more! I just so happen to know a couple of dwarfs who we can hire a mount from and get tickets.’

‘And how much are we talking?’

‘Well, for five silver, we can take a three day tour.’

‘I’m not sure we have that long.’

‘For one silver, I can take you on a guided tour today.’

‘I’ll give you fifty bronze.’

‘A horseshoe! That’s hardly enough to cover the rental of the mounts.’

‘I’m sure you know some people where you can get it for cheaper,’ Ember suggested, rattling her coin purse. Fifty bronze was called a horseshoe because that’s how much it used to cost to shoe a horse.

‘I can’t do it; what about seventy-five? There now, that’s a good price.’

‘I can hear people calling all over; I’ll stick with fifty,’ Ember said, and she turned away, but a hand grasped her arm.

‘Now, now; there’s no reason to put you in trouble. We’re friends, aren’t we? Fifty it is, and that’s taking food from my kids, so it is.’

*

‘Welcome to the Woven Pass. Down this path, traders used to travel to Panalta, one of the hubs of the ancient dwarven world. During the age of Nar’volk, the world was frozen tundra. We know this from the records of dwarfs travelling to the surface; at that time, we believed the world above to be uninhabited. This path we now travel down was cut through the rock after the world above started to thaw. A glacier must have melted and millions of tonnes of water cut through the ground to create what we are going through now,’ Tarmire said, leading Ember down an immense passage that was lit with various growing vegetation and strategically placed fire pits.

The walls of the gorge looked irregular but smooth, which is what you would expect water to create, yet there were little holes dotted up the walls.

‘What are those holes about?’ Ember asked.

‘Blimey, you have good vision. There’s a better example further down. So, there would be lookouts on the cliffs, mostly children, and they would be used as runners to send messages down about the new arrivals. The ground is rutted, see – not too harshly but more than you would expect from water to create, as water smooths things out typically. This is because the natives laid flagstones down with runnels either side, as, when the nearby river overflows, the spill seeps onto this path. That’s ’cos this rock is porous, see,’ Tarmire said pointing to the roof. ‘But about three feet down, we have gneiss, and the walls are mostly gneiss; you can just make out the wonderful banding. Gneiss is non-porous, so the water sits on it, and we have the runnels to let water flow down the path, as it is a natural decline. So the ruts are caused by the dwarfs slowing down the carts purposely.

‘Now we reach the brothers, which are those two rocks that stand out from the rest. There’s nothing much to say about them, except that they exist and are quite pretty. Now we have one of those holes you mentioned; come, let’s get a closer look. From a distance, they don’t look big, but, up close, you can see they’re dwarf sized.’

They climbed off the path, which was relatively flat; off-piste the ground undulated, and it was easy to roll an ankle. They walked over to a hole in one of the many rock formations; the dark played tricks, so that the hole didn’t seem to grow as they approached it, until they were on top of it.

‘Now, see, there isn’t much inside, but you can see the roof: that rich splash of red; white, sweeping lines; and touches of black. Those’re the natural colours of the rocks, and the big, black stain has been made from a fire – a cooking fire, you see. These are mostly homes, and they’re scattered all over the pass. However, there are a few that aren’t little homes, but are paths through the walls to help the runners beat the carts. Let’s continue down.’

As they rode on, the path continued downwards, and the walls swept up and closed inwards slightly. The lights continued upwards, and it gave Ember an impression of how large the world must truly be for this to exist beneath it. The mounts they rode were called tunnel alpacas, because no one knew where they came from or what breed of alpacas they truly were. No dwarf had ever stumbled across a passage created by the alpacas, whereas all the species known to exist naturally underground had their own tunnels. Sometime after the dwarfs opened their tunnels to the world above, the tunnel alpacas were discovered, but their true origin was unknown.

After around an hour of riding, Tarmire pointed to the wall. ‘You see the carving in the wall? That’s an old dwarven script that’s not spoken any more, except by dwarven scholars. It says “Durin doesn’t require that we think of him, only that we think.” Durin is an old dwarven champion, and many of his words are recorded here.’

‘I didn’t think dwarfs were allowed to share their language,’ pondered Ember.

‘Mostly, we aren’t, but this is an old dialect that’s long since abandoned. Some of our old tongues are translated because we want the tourism, see.’

They rode on, and Tarmire pointed out the drainage system along the walls and then a nearly eroded carving on the wall, which was of an alpaca standing over a pile of treasure. ‘You see that the gully has these little pits? That’s so any sediment in the water drops to the bottom, and when the shallow pit fills, the sediment-free water continues to flow. Then you can stop and let your alpaca drink, hence the carving. The treasure in this drawing represents clean water. Also, you notice how it seems like the ground above is closing up? That’s due to an earthquake that shifted the walls and closed this passage partially.’

Tarmire pointed out more carvings, and they stopped a couple of times to stand in the right position to make out what had been carved into the walls. There was even a small stone island in the path, which had been carved to look like a massive sand otter leaping out of the floor.

‘Okay, now stop here and get down, see. There’s a carving right at the top there; right up there, see it? No, no; stand back a little, a more to the left, now back a bit more. It’s a carving of a heffalump; you can’t miss it. No, back a bit, then right a bit more. Okay, good. Now do you see it? No? That’s because it isn’t there, see, but if you turn around now and look down there… ah, you do see that!’

The path seemed to squeeze in, possibly due to the fact that no lights had been placed in the next section of the passage, so that, at the end, the façade of an intricate structure stood out like the home of the gods; it genuinely took Ember’s breath away.

‘What is it?’ she asked finally.

‘Well, we aren’t sure, to tell the truth. The people who lived here were visited by the Alliance, who weren’t as peaceful as they sounded. They fought the Nabataeans, who were the dwarfs who lived here and lost. Then they sent an envoy, who managed to talk their way into Panalta, and then slipped out one night and gave the Alliance all the secrets of Panalta: how best to attack and when. After the Alliance were through, the Nabataeans were killed or enslaved, so what we know of the area is limited. We believe this was a tomb of one of the Nabataean kings,’ Tarmire explained.

‘I thought there was only one king?’

‘There is one king of the dwarfs, but many local rulers to set taxes and such. Also, this was some 10,000 years before we opened ourselves to the surface, when titans still walked and Pontus ruled the lands above, turning all to ice. So maybe separated they did split from the main dwarfs, so little is known now. But that building signals the start of Panalta, but Panalta is a tour of its own, and we don’t have time today to travel into it. However, you can explore the building – we call it Wayland’s Forge – and it is still operational today.’

Wayland’s Forge was set off the floor, so that Ember had to clamber up and then offer a hand to Tarmire.

‘How are you supposed to get up?’ Ember asked.

‘Well, the ground used to be higher, but then we found interesting things in the floor and started excavating. Now it’s believed that there’s an entire system of underground tunnels all over Panalta, even back up the Woven Pass,’ replied Tarmire.

‘Underground?’

‘Well, further underground,’ Tarmire said, rubbing the back of his head. ‘It’s all watertight as well, so when it floods up here, its dry down there, which means that we need to be careful when excavating and keep it watertight.’

Ember looked around the inside of Wayland’s Forge and her eyebrows rose. ‘When you said it was still operational, I didn’t realise you meant it was still in operation. This place is a mini bazaar.’

‘All items are made here. This is its only real income now. Back in the days of the Nabataeans, there were fewer opportunities to buy metal goods, and this was a trading hub; well, not here, but in little Panalta about a half-day ride east. Anyway, this forge did fantastic business, the Nabataeans were extremely influential and then time passed. Now we have learned new techniques for building forges from the orcs, and we can build forges in more places. Back in this time, they had to use natural resources, such as lava in this instance. Also, travel speed has increased. Before the last Fall there were dirigibles, trains and things to carry goods; much of that knowledge is lost, but we have underground carts that can carry people at good speeds. What would once take months now takes weeks. And trade with non-dwarfs has increased our access to goods anyway. But, to the Nabataeans, this was a goldmine. It might not have turned lead into gold, but it turned copper, iron and bronze into gold.’

Ember looked along the stalls; the armour, jewellery and shields didn’t interest her, but the weapons did – or at least the daggers did.

‘Nice example of a basalis eye.’ Ember said turning over a knife, it was made in the shape of a tetrahedron, like a pyramid, and had a short hilt.

New item: cruel dagger

This evil dagger is designed to kill the target and not just injure them. This knife is made out of steel, is of impressive quality, and deals 37–58 damage points and 50 bleed-damage points per second until healed. The durability is 40/40. It weighs 1.8 kg.

‘We call it a dragon’s fang,’ Tarmire declared, and he exchanged some words with a dwarf who was presumably a merchant. ‘It’s a good price if you’re interested. Look at that sword; the foli and forte are from two different swords, and it’s been expertly mended so you couldn’t tell, could you?’

Ember responded, ‘Yes, I’ve heard it called a few things. It’s an evil weapon; due to the shape, there is little chance of surviving the bleed out. They are banned in most cities. Most cuts you can put pressure on to staunch the bleeding and find someone with healing magicka. But this shape means you can’t stop the bleeding. Horrible. This is a nice butcher’s knife here; surely it’s not for fighting?’

New item: joint knife

This knife is designed to cut carcasses up, and this knife in particular is to cut the joints of the animals. This knife is made out of steel, is of impressive quality, and deals 11–15 damage points and 5 slash-damage points per second for 5 seconds. The durability is 30/30. It weighs 1.1 kg.

‘No, but not all knives are used to kill each other; some have a more practical use,’ Tarmire said between talking some more to the merchant.

‘This is a combat knife, and this is possibly a skinning knife, but I’ve no idea what this one is. For bar fights maybe?’ She’d picked up a small stiletto knife, unremarkable but rather impractical in its stubbiness.

New item: unknown dagger

This dagger is of simple design, but you are unsure of its full use. This knife is made out of obsidian, is of masterclass quality, deals 40–55 damage points, weighs 1.5 kg and the rest is unknown.

‘It’s made to protect you from highwayman; the small size is good to hide on the person, and what it lacks in damage, you offset with poisons,’ Tarmire clarified, and then he spoke to the merchant for a moment. ‘The hilt is hollow; you can open it, see, and the cork protects from leaks. Now the clever thing about this design is twofold. One, it holds more poison; normally, you put two or three drops on a blade, but this holds around 30 ml. Two, because of the clever design, you use less poison per strike with the same toxicity.’

‘Ah, I’ve owned a knife like this before, but mine was crude and inelegant in comparison to this beauty. However, it’s this blade I truly like,’ revealed Ember.

The knife she’d picked up had a simple leather and black-metal hilt; the leather had a simple design of interlacing lines engraved into it. The blade itself was thin and around 10 inches in length, and had simple straight edges, ending in a slant, so that the back edge of the knife was an inch longer than the front edge, like a trapezoid. The metal was silver, but the back was blue, which lightened towards the centre to leave half the blade the original silver.

New item: you decide to name this dagger Peregrine

It’s simple and elegant; it is so you!

This knife is made out of a folded carbon-composite alloy, is masterclass dealing 68-102 damage and 20 piercing. The durability is 45/45. It weighs 2 kg.

Tarmire spoke to the merchant for a moment, and then turned to Ember. ‘It is indeed a fine blade, and a fantastic example of the work produced here. The design on the leather strap on the hilt is unique to each smith; this is Apro’s mark, so every weapon Apro makes will have this mark on it somewhere. Unfortunately, a smith’s mark makes it exceedingly expensive compared to anything here without the mark of its smith. It’s two gold for this blade. They have some other blades made in the same style if you’d like to see them?’

‘No,’ Ember confirmed, enjoying the feel of the blade in her hand; it felt so right – reassuringly heavy – and Ember was reluctant to hand it back. ‘I’m not even going to negotiate with you; two gold it is.’

Tarmire blinked and then shrugged. ‘If you like it, then that’s all there is to it, right?’

‘I know the smith’s mark has made it more expensive, but this dagger is probably worth a gold anyway,’ Ember said. She wasn’t trying to reassure herself – well, not much – but, to her mind, it was an exquisite item.

Ember handed over two coins, the dwarf flipped them over, and then said something to Tarmire, who picked up the coins and looked at them.

‘The bull,’ was all he had to say.

‘Yeah, that’s alright, isn’t it?’ queried Ember.

‘Oh yes, but you don’t see it very often. I was expecting you to have vipers.’

‘Well, the viper is the coin mostly associated with the assassin, so it’s the one we use least. But once a rumour starts, it’s difficult to stop it.’

‘Yes, it’s like that with axes. Most people see an axe head on a coin and they think it’s a standard weight because it’s a dwarf-mint mark. But what they don’t realise is that, typically, we use one axe head or a double-headed axe, but if you get a gold coin with a mint mark of crossed axes, then don’t trust the weight because that’s the minting of Ingleheim, and their gold coins are three-quarters the weight of the usual dwarven standard.’

‘Ingleheim is one of the larger dwarf markets that allows people in from the surface, isn’t it?’ Ember asked.

‘It is, which I’m afraid to say is why they started minting their own coins and reducing the weight – to catch out the unwary traveller. Crossed axes are a bad sign to dwarfs, which is why they chose it; so any dwarf would be wary immediately, but nobody else.’

They stepped out of Wayland’s Forge, Tarmire picked up two items from a stall and tossed one to Ember, who caught it backhanded.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, turning it over. It was small and green, with a soft, hairy skin like a peach.

‘It’s a boysenweed fruit. Those plants grow like weeds; you let one grow, and it takes over everything.’

‘What plants?’

‘Dewberries, loganberries, raspberries – all those things; they love it down here. We call them weeds, and growing in our tunnels changes them. We actually get quite good trade for them; they are good in a pie.’

New item: dark boysenberry x1

This berry is from the boysenberry bush, and was grown in the dwarven lands.

It weighs 0.1 kg; eat it and find out more.

The fruit was larger than one would expect, around the size and shape of a thumb. Ember bit off a large chunk, her mouth flushed with saliva, and, suddenly, she was eating the sourest thing she’d ever had in her mouth.

‘Oh the gods, that’s tart!’ Ember said, dry swallowing for 5 minutes to flush the taste out.

‘Here, have a cigar,” offered Tarmire. “Our sense of taste isn’t as strong as yours, and these will dull yours. You’ll struggle with our food and drink otherwise.’

A strange creature with eight legs, and like a hairy dog mixed with a ferret, came snuffling up to Ember. She looked down at its questing nose, large and soulful eyes, floppy ears and shaggy coat, and gave it the rest of her fruit. It sniffed at it and bit a chunk off, then it jumped back, its face scrunched up and it clawed at its mouth. It then went back for a second piece and seemed surprised that it was still sour. It continued taking bits and jumping back, clawing at its mouth until the fruit was gone and drool slobbered it chops.

Race: terrapin

Genus: octanine

Class: D

Terrapins have a reputation for being genial creatures; however, they can become aggressive if agitated, but then who doesn’t? They get their name from the mottling of their fur, which looks like the shell of a terrapin turtle. Legend has it that the reason they are affiliated with Hera is that she has some as pets.

They are rather cute-looking, now you’ve got to see one finally.

Affiliation: Hera

Harvestable items: none

State: hungry, curious, friendly

Level: 16

Ember scratched it behind the ears, and then she and Tarmire walked back.