The Hammer of Fire (4 page)

“Make our fortune!” said Brogus his voice
once again slightly too loud as Milli shushed him with a delicate
finger to her rosy lips.

Visitors filled the workshop of First Edos
Fierfelm Sunspire and the old dwarf looked around with a deep
frown, partially hidden by his long beard, as he contemplated his
many guests. It wasn’t the cost of the food and beverage that the
First Edos was required to provide that angered him so much as the
amount that would surely end up on his floors and workbenches. His
useless young chief apprentice, Cleathelm Firefist, busied himself
entertaining the various dignitaries in the room and failed utterly
to follow Fierfelm’s orders about glasses on coasters. He sighed.
The office was virtually the same as when he first came here under
the tutelage of old Udor. That was before the Hammer of Fire,
before the glory of its creation and the adulation of the entire
city. But, even now the tools hung in the same spots, the work
bench sat in the same place, although perhaps with one or two more
burns and stains, the great weapons rested on the walls in exactly
the same places with the notable exception of the Hammer of Fire.
The hammer went up on the wall in the most prominent position in
the room the day after Udor retired. It had not been moved since.
The haft, the bottom half of the greatest elf weapon in history,
the Staff of Faelom,proved far too hot for anyone to handle for
more than a few seconds and special pegs in the wall, made from
ceramics infused with diamonds, kept it in place. The great hammer
head glowed with a deep red from within its silver surface and
seemed to gently throb like the heart of a great dragon at
rest.

“It’s an awful chance,” said an immensely fat
dwarf with apparently half a pie evenly dispersed between beard and
mouth as he moved silently next to Fierfelm. He carried a huge
silver plate in one hand piled high with éclairs and other little
pastry desserts. The other hand held a massive mug hollowed out
from a single crystal of gargantuan size and filled with a frothy,
dark substance that smelled of yeast and hops. Despite his size and
load the man moved with surprising agility and grace.

“What chance is that, Borrombus?” said
Fierfelm raising his eyebrows and watching the trail of pie crust
crumbs fall onto the floor. “Is it possible for you to keep some of
the food on the plate?”

“Letting the boy and his friends take the
hammer,” said Borrombus as he swallowed massive chunks of the
dessert with well-practiced mastication. He wore a heavy leather
jerkin and beautifully polished silver chain mail that, while
fearsome in appearance, was actually quite light. The links for
such armor were smaller and lighter than those worn by soldiers
heading off to battle. “This is mighty fine pie you’ve served,
Fierfelm. I’m glad you followed my advice for bakeries. I know it’s
a bit more expensive but it’s important to impress those in
power.”

“If you like the pie so much I would be most
pleased if you could get more in your mouth and less on the
floor.”

“You always were a tidy one,” said Borrombus
with a shake of his massive head that loosed another avalanche of
crumbs. “Your apprentices will clean everything up eventually. You
should enjoy the party. We need to speak about the hammer though;
my nephew has done his work and those children will likely steal
the thing today. I remain unconvinced it is the proper course of
action. You know how the High Council members are about hierarchy.
Not a one of those children is from the three families and the girl
doesn’t even have any dwarf blood in her veins at all. A Halfling
girl, a foundling, a ward of the state. If she ends up telling
people about Craggen Steep it could prove disastrous for the entire
city.”

“I thought you wanted us to spread the word
about Craggen Steep,” said Fierfelm. “That it was time to spread
our wings and join the world?”

“Keep your voice down,” said Borrombus. “Yes,
of course, that is all true but if it is one of the other races who
does the telling that won’t go over well, even to those who
sympathize with our cause. It should be a dwarf, preferably one
from one of the good families. That will be more palatable to
everyone and more useful to us.”

“If we wait for someone of good family to
even have the ability to hold the thing then it will sit on that
wall for another fifty years, a fine tribute to Udor that would
be.”

“Now, now, now,” said Borrombus with a shake
of his head that dislodged yet more pie although he filled the gap
by stuffing half of a massive éclair into his mouth and chewing
briskly until he was able to speak again. “Did I say that?” he
asked and food sprayed out of his mouth, some ending up on the
First Edos. “What I said was that you are taking an awful chance by
encouraging the High Council to allow it out of Craggen Steep. You
should have just let them steal it and not informed the Council at
all.If the elders are embarrassed so much the better for Craggen
Steep’s future.”

“That apprentice is the best chance I see of
ever getting the hammer off the wall, into the hands of someone who
can make use it, and I’ll be boiled in oil if I let this
opportunity slip by,” said Fierfelm with his hands on his hips. “I
promised Udor on his death bed that I’d make sure someone got to
use it. I’ve waited half a century for an opportunity to make good
on my word and I’ll not get another chance before I die.”

“Now, now, now,” repeated Borrombus as he
hungrily eyed a platter of thick sausages that wandered by on the
shoulder of a burly young dwarf who looked out of place in silken
clothes rather than rough forge wear, “You were always a bit
sentimental about Udor. I know he gave you your first chance here
at the Deep Forge but your career is what you made it, not what he
gave you. What sort of sausages are those?”

“It’s not purely loyalty, Borrombus,” said
Fierfelm his eyes suddenly far away as he gazed across the room,
“it’s the hammer. It is more than a thing of beauty hanging on a
wall for admiration. It is a weapon, a terrible and wonderful
weapon, and someone must use it. Have we become art loving elves
here in Craggen Steep? So afraid of losing something of beauty that
we hide it away for all eternity? Are we not dwarves? Creatures of
stone, the warriors who overthrew the might of the elementals?”

Borrombus rolled his eyes as he motioned with
his head to the boy carrying the plate of sausages, “Bring those
back here, boy,” he said and then turned to Fierfelm. “Save the
patriotic speeches for the High Council, you don’t have to convince
me that the hammer is best served in Delius’s hands. He is
something special is that boy, and there is no future for him here
because of his blood taint. However, the elders are afraid he’ll
use it to gain great glory and their own pure-blooded children will
be slighted. You know how the Firefists are about their namesake,”
here he lowered his voice and glanced at the young apprentice who
greeted dignitaries by their first name with great familiarity as
he moved around the room. “They foisted Cleathelm off on you to spy
more than anything else. You must show caution. Don’t play all your
cards or you’ll be outmaneuvered in High Council.”

“Damn caution,” spat Fierfelm his blue eyes
ablaze and his fist clenched and raised in the air. “I’ve been
cautious for too long now, afraid of the council, afraid of the
three families of Craggen Steep. It’s now or not in my
lifetime.”

“Lower your voice, my friend,” said Borrombus
as he positioned his body between Fierfelm and several of the most
gaudily bedecked dignitaries in the room who glanced their way with
arched eyebrows and little shakes of their heads in disapproval. “I
am a member of one of the three families as you well know and a
member of the High Council also.The Blackirons are your friend and
you have others as well. The young dwarves have heard Corancil
speak. They are eager to join the world. Thousands of years of
exile from the world. Think of all the dwarf champions and the
deeds they could have accomplished.”

“I know that,” said Fierfelm and suddenly the
fire went out of his eyes and he looked like a tired old dwarf. He
hung his head and grumbled something inaudible but then looked back
up at his rotund companion, “It’s just that sometimes I get so
frustrated with the interminable slowness with which everything
here in Craggen Steep is done. We are mired in ways, the three
families, the High Council, even me, the First Edos. Times are
changing fast in the world. Corancil conquered the northern realm
and took Das’von almost two years ago. Now he plans to move against
the nations to the south. He might succeed and conquer the entire
world. Our hidden citadel cannot stand up against power like that.
We must take action instead of hiding like children. Craggen Steep
must strike out into the world, or at least help our dwarf brothers
already out there.”

“Your opinion on the matter is well known in
council, Fierfelm,” said Borrombus in a hushed tone. “You don’t
have to broadcast it at every party we attend. The dwarves of
Craggen Steep are slow moving it is true, but if you take things
slowly, Dol Delius will get the hammer and perhaps the dwarves will
move out into the world. However, if you antagonize the Firefist’s
there is nothing the Blackiron’s can do for you. The Firefists have
been against you ever since you beat out their sons for the
position of chief apprentice. You’ve been First Edos for almost ten
years now and they don’t trust you. You’re a Sunspire.”

“I earned that position,” said Fierfelm as he
stood up to his full five foot three inches and glared down at
Borrombus. “I earned the right to be First Edos ten years before
they gave it to me.”

“By Davim you’ve grown crotchety in your old
age, Fierfelm. Nobody says you don’t deserve to be First Edos. I’m
just trying to give you a little friendly advice. I suggested this
little get together so that you might impress the council members
and have a better chance in session tomorrow. Now, why don’t you
wipe that frown off your face, think about your wife and sons, and
then get in there and start schmoozing with the Firefists,
Blackirons, and anyone else who has a vote on the council?”

“I know, I know, Borrombus,” said the First
Edos with a shrug of his shoulders as he gazed towards the revelers
and shook his head. “You’ve been a good friend to me all these
years and your advice is always sound. Do you really think there’s
a chance they’ll let Delius take the Hammer of Fire out into the
world?”

Borrombus smiled warmly and gave Fierfelm a
pat on the back with a gentle shove, “You never know unless you
try. Now get in there and sell!”

With that the First Edos went off into the
party just as a young dwarf with a fierce scar along the left side
of his face sidled over to Borrombus, “I couldn’t help but overhear
you conversation, uncle,” he said in a low tone. He wore a senior
apprentice’s orange jerkin and his long brown hair was unbraided.
His beard was scraggly, partially dyed red, and he sneered as he
watched the other apprentices in their finest gear trying their
best to ingratiate themselves with the powerful dwarves in the
room.

The fat dwarf didn’t even bother to look at
the young man to his side as he replied, “And?”

“You know there is no chance the council will
let that half-blooded tree freak take the Hammer of Fire, why do
you encourage him?”

“He’s an old man with a dream, nephew,”
replied Borrombus still not looking at the young dwarf. He went on
in a low voice that didn’t carry much further than a few feet,
“Besides, as long as the council thinks this only about the
liberation of the hammer then they aren’t aware of our real scheme.
Now, are you here to spoil everything or do you have something
important to tell me?”

The rough dwarf nodded his head and fingered
his partial beard, the scar on his face didn’t allow for any growth
down the side of his left cheek, for a few long seconds before he
continued in whispered tones, “The hammer’s guardians are occupied
for the moment with a game of dice, but they cannot be distracted
for long. The half-breed, Dol Delius, needs to move sometime in the
next few hours or there will not be another chance. Once the
council session starts in the morning they’ll likely bring the
hammer into chambers, and after the petition is rejected they’ll
post heavy guards to discourage thievery.”

“You’ve done well, nephew, and will be
properly rewarded for your work,” replied Borrombus as he smiled
and nodded his head. “Now, keep your eye on Cleathelm, the boy
might prove troublesome before this is all over.”

“That idiot,” said the young dwarf with a
grimace as he fingered a knife buckled to his belt. “I’ll see to
him. We’ve a score to settle from when we were boys,” he continued
and one hand came unconsciously to the scar along his face while
the other continued to tap at the long dirk strapped at his
side.

“No killing,” whispered Borrombus and turned
to face the boy with a glare, “we don’t want to bring down the
wrath of the Firefists just yet, we do not have enough votes in
council nor enough warriors.”

“When will that change?” said the fiery young
dwarf, “I grow weary of waiting, as do my friends. Corancil
promises much for our services in the coming wars. Gold speaks
loudly to dwarven ears.”

Borrombus laughed and shook his head, “Youth,
was I ever that young? You must learn patience, nephew. Times are
changing in the world and here at Craggen Steep; but you cannot
hope to end nigh on five thousand years of tradition in one fell
swoop. The Firefists and Drawhammers have much power, far more
power than you can imagine. They have access to weapons, magic,
that is beyond your ability to fully understand. If we Blackirons
are to lead the new regime here, to become partners with Corancil,
we must tread cautiously. I’m aware that is a word with which you
are unfamiliar. Do not cross me, nephew. I have more to gain than
you can imagine but I have much to lose.”