TST (35 page)

 Azerick stood back with as much patience as he could muster while the dwarf ransacked his belongings. He contented himself with looking about the dwarf’s workshop, studying the myriad tools and engravings that littered the place. Not quite littered, Azerick adjusted his first impression. Everything was organized and not a speck of stone or dust gathered on the floor or tables.

Duncan interrupted Azerick’s thoughts as he finished looking at the last book and set it aside. “Where’s your spell book? All these books are on magical theory and such. Where’s the book you record your own spells in?”

“I don’t have one. I’m a sorcerer not a wizard,” Azerick explained, preparing himself to answer the inevitable question that was to come next.

Azerick was almost disappointed when the dwarf merely grunted instead of asking the difference like most everyone else always did. Instead, he waved Azerick to take a seat on the bench next to the table as he pulled a stool from under the workbench and sat across from him.

“So what were you doing in our mines?” he asked Azerick.

Azerick had to look up at the dwarf since the bench was set at a height for a dwarf where Duncan’s stool was built to allow him to work over his workbench. “I was taking shelter in a cave when the entrance collapsed. I found a small passage further back that I hoped would lead me out.”

“Why didn’t you use the spell that you used to free Togar to clear away the blockage?”

“I was too far back and the cave was unstable.” Azerick replied.

Duncan raised one of his bushy eyebrows at Azerick’s answer. “Why were you so far back? Most humans would only go back far enough to get out of the wind or weather.”

Azerick wracked his brain for a plausible explanation but quickly realized that the wily dwarf had cornered him.

“Stop yanking my beard and tell me what you were really doing in that cave,” Duncan said, piercing Azerick with his eyes.

Azerick took a deep breath before answering. “A dragon came to the town I was staying in and stole some of my books and scrolls. I went to go get them back.”

“What happened to the dragon?”

“I was forced to kill it when it refused to return my things and tried to roast me.” Azerick replied.

Duncan’s eyebrows rose until they nearly reached his tightly sweptback hairline. “You’re that accomplished a sorcerer to kill a dragon just like that?”

Azerick shook his head. “I got lucky. I was able to dislodge a large boulder above the cave’s entrance and crush its neck.”

“Bah, luck,” the dwarf waved off with his calloused hand. “We make our own luck in this world. It ain’t some random force pulled out of the ether at the whim of some god or unseen force.”

Duncan hopped off his high stool and pulled a carved stone disc about as wide as his hand out of a cubbyhole built into the wall. He stepped in front of Azerick, spoke a word, and waved his free hand over the top of the disc. Azerick was surprised to see several of the runes carved in its surface glow with varying intensities.

“You have an affinity for earth and air magic. That’s an unusual combination especially for a human wizard, or sorcerer I’d wager. Most of your kind tends to lean towards fire and air for the big flashy spells that scare the heck outta the common folks.”

Azerick shrugged his shoulders at the dwarf’s observation. “I have always felt drawn more towards the earth and stone than fire.”

“Why do think that is?” Duncan asked in a knowing voice.

Azerick thought about his life and his losses before answering the dwarf. “Stone is eternal. It does not bend or yield. It does not flare up in some kind of a spectacular sight then quickly fade away.”

“It may not bend but it can be shattered if it is struck hard enough,” Duncan replied sagely.

Azerick’s visage set as though
it
were carved out of stone. “You cannot shatter a mountain,” he replied resolutely.

The old dwarf nodded and replaced the stone disc back into its cubbyhole. “You know what a volcano is?”

Azerick nodded.

“Then you know that a mountain can destroy itself under its own pressure, destroying not just itself but everyone and everything around it,” Duncan said as he sat back down on his stool.

“I thought all dwarves disliked magic and did not use it themselves.” Azerick asked, changing the subject.

“Yes and no. It will probably come as a surprise to you to know that there are many forms of magic and many different sources as well. Dwarves make some of the best weapons and armor ever crafted and occasionally imbue them with powerful enchantments. We couldn’t do that if we didn’t have some kind of access to magic.”

Azerick listened intently as the dwarf explained.

“You wizards and such power your spells by drawing energy from what you call the Source but that is a bit of a misnomer. That is merely
a
source of magic not
the
source of magic. Dwarves and other races use magic that comes from the very earth and stone around us and rune carvers store that energy in carved sigils. Druids power their spells from both the divine energies provided by their god or goddess as well as the natural energies found in plants, trees, and all living things in nature,” Duncan explained as if Azerick were his newest pupil.

“Can all dwarves use rune magic?” Azerick asked.

“Can all humans cast wizard spells?” Duncan responded.

Azerick’s face flushed at having asked such a ridiculous question.

“No, it takes a special talent and affinity for the elements to be able to draw on its energies and store them in a rune,” Duncan answered.

“So the rune that you carve is a spell form much like wizards and sorcerers shape with the Source,” Azerick stated as he began to understand the principal.

“Precisely. Stone is most often used as the medium to hold the runic energy but most anything that can hold the shape can be used.”

“So is the magic is permanent then as long as the rune holds its shape?”

Duncan shook his head. “Not necessarily. The energy bleeds out of the rune at a rate depending upon the power of the rune caster with a few exceptions. When a weapon, tool, or some such is created to be permanent, a special rune is created to hold the magic in place but it is a difficult process and limited in its use. I’ve carved runes to strengthen the doors and gates that lead into our territory but even those I have to replenish from time to time.”

“So what are you going to do with me now?” Azerick asked.

“Well, normally we would put you out the nearest surface exit with a swift kick to the arse,” Duncan grinned. “But I’ve developed an interest in that big book you brought with you. If you’re willing to accept, I would like to show you a bit of dwarven hospitality for a while so I can study it further. The snows are coming soon and unless you planned on returning to Riverdale you would have a tough time getting through the pass to the next human settlement.”

“I thought I had already experienced dwarven hospitality,” Azerick replied rubbing his head where Togar had struck him.

“Naw, our hospitality involves a bit less kicking and a whole lot more drinking but I gotta warn you about dwarven alcohol. It kicks harder than Togar’s boot!” Duncan warned, laughing loudly.

“You say the snows are coming. Surely not there are several weeks before the snows hit, even up here in the mountains.”

The dwarf shook his head with a look of concern. “The snows have been coming earlier and staying longer these last couple years. It’s a strange thing and a bad omen.”

“What kind of omen?”

“Can’t really say for sure. All I know is the animals are spooked and there’s something—wrong—in the air. Maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s something. Whatever it is, we’ll keep down here to ourselves as we always have and let it pass over us.”

Azerick thought about the rune carver’s words but was at as great a loss as to their import as Duncan was. Whatever it was, if it was anything, it did not concern him. At least not right now.

“If you are willing to teach me something of rune carving I would be willing to share what I have,” Azerick agreed.

“All right then, let’s drink on it!” Duncan insisted.

The dwarf sprang from his stool and disappeared into another room but quickly reappeared with two jugs and two cups. He uncorked one of the jugs and poured a mouthful of a clear liquid into the bottom of both cups.

“This is how we dwarves seal a contract,” he explained and lifted his cup.

Azerick did the same and at a nod from Duncan, they both downed the cup’s contents. Duncan slammed his cup down on the tabletop. Azerick squeezed his until he thought it would shatter in his grip as the liquid burned down his throat and brought tears to his clamped eyes. It felt as though his throat and stomach had been literally set on fire.

“You didn’t cough it up, I’m impressed!” Duncan crowed as he poured an amber liquid from the second jug into both their cups.

Azerick desperately downed the proffered beverage. The warm heady beer slid down his throat and helped cool the fire that the dwarf spirits had ignited.

“That is good beer,” Azerick told Duncan in a raspy voice.

“Course it is. The only thing dwarves do better than beat metal is brew beer and ale,” Duncan replied with pride. “Let me show you to a place you can bunk down while you’re my guest.”

Azerick’s head swam as he stood up and followed the dwarf through one set of rooms to another. A stuffed straw mattress was laid out on a stone slab carved into one wall. Thankfully, it was just long enough to accommodate Azerick’s size but if he were two or three inches taller, his feet would be hanging over the edge. Duncan set his belongings on a table built into the other wall. A round hole had been bored through another wall that allowed an impressive view of the city below and around him.

“You go on and rest up here and we can talk more tomorrow,” Duncan offered as he pulled out a couple of wool blankets from a large cedar trunk and tossed them onto the stone pallet.

“Thanks,” Azerick replied and laid down, feeling the full effects of both the powerful liquor and his own exhaustion.

Duncan left his human guest to get some rest, sat down at his workbench, and began reading the thick, ancient tome. The rune carver was amazed at the breadth of subject matter and history involving several of the races of this land.

As one of the few scholarly dwarves, Duncan wanted to study the book in its entirety, but that would take years to do properly so he contented himself with skipping to the sections involving dwarven history, earth magic, and rune carving. The rune carver eventually closed the book with a grunt, prying himself away so that he could get some sleep before the coming day.

Azerick woke to the clinking sound of metal being struck and found Duncan seated at his workbench tapping a fine chisel with a small wooden mallet. Azerick peered over the dwarf’s shoulder and saw that he was carving a complex rune into a flat piece of stone. He was impressed at the deftness and assuredness of the rune carver’s strikes. The lines, swirls, and patterns he carved into the stone were every bit as smooth and elaborate as if he were penning a magic scroll with quill and ink.

Duncan blew away the stone flecks and set aside the hammer and chisel. He picked up the stone disc, held it at eye level, and examined every stroke. Seemingly satisfied, he set the carving down and spun about on his stool.

“You’re up! Hungry?” Duncan asked his guest.

“Famished,” Azerick replied.

“Good, let’s go get something to eat.”

Azerick followed Duncan out of his home and through another doorway. Duncan stopped at the edge of a large circular hole cut through the stone floor with a steel pipe running directly through the center of it. Azerick stepped to the edge, looked up and saw that the pole rose two floors up and three more down before terminating at another landing.