Northern Passage

Brezzny could hear the picks dulling with each strike, yet the work went on. There was no time to stop and sharpen them, trapped as they were by the beast beyond the rubble. It was Brezzny’s for rest, yet he found no sleep. The scouts were overdue, and the passage they were carving upwards was progressing slowly. This far into the northern mountains, the cold made even the stone harder than usual.

A dim light appeared on the downward slope, followed by Crobble and Gasper. As the scouts, they took the only glow light the troop had, but nodwarf complained. If the unknown beast somehow made it through the cave-in behind them, the scouts would surely be the first to face it.

Basto and Broxen stopped digging to hear the scouts report.

Crobble, voice cracking from so long without food or water stammered out. “Its, still, digging.” The news was grim, but their faces could go no lower, expressions no deeper. Either the troop would complete this new upward passage and break into freedom, or the beast below would claw through the rubble, rampage up the passageway, and do Urf knows what to the worn out troop.

Basto, newly elected troop leader, got the group moving again. “Its time Kin. Brezzny, Felden, take the picks and strike upwards. Crobble, Gasper, Broxen, take your rest.”

Brezzny took a long look at Basto in the dim glow light. Basto stared back, face torn. “Strike true my love” whispered Basto.

The glow light faded as Crobble dipped it down, saving the remainder for the next scouting shift. The troop was down to two functional picks, both dulled into near uselessness. Brezzny gripped one tightly, recited a childhood prayer to Urf, and followed his kin to the passage head. There, in the blackness, the dwarves did what dwarves do best.

Strike with pick, strike with might

Crack the rock with dwarven sight

In the dark the tunnel bore

Singing songs of ancient lore

The passageway was complete blackness, yet Brezzny still closed his eyes. He just ‘saw’ the rock better with his eyes closed. Some dwarves worked with eyes open, some others wore closed helmets. But all dwarves had the dwarven sight.

Strike, strike, crack, split. The rhythm of work was soothing. Felden and Brezzny fell into synchronicity, striking in time, cracking in tune. The dance of digging came naturally. But this time it was just off key, the dulled picks and the sense of haste, unnatural forces pressing against the rhythm of the rock. Brezzny cracked a large chunk. Felden, half a step slow, was grazed as the slag fell backwards into darkness. The rhythm was broken as Felden collapsed.

“I felt that one for sure lad.” The strain was evident in Feldens harsh whisper. Brezzny put hands on Felden, and patted down towards the leg. Brezzny smelled the blood before he felt it, the warm wetness a shock to the hands after the cold stinging of pick and stone. Brezzny ripped off a sleeve and wrapped it tightly around Feldens leg, but he could feel the bones grinding as he did so, Feldens jaw clenching as he steeled against the pain.

“You won’t be walking on that” announced Brezzney, “Best carry you back”. Felden grunted approval, then muffled pain as Brezzny hoisted him up for the walk back.

The glow light was on and the dwarves awake when they reached the small cavern. “We heard the picks stop” said Basto. But no more words were needed when they saw Brezzny carrying Felden, even the dim glowlight revealed the blood seeping through the makeshift bandage.

Brezzny laid Felden down. Basto knelt to inspect the wound, glow light held close. The inspection was pointed and brief. “We cannot help you lad.”

“As Urf wills it” grunted out Felden through clenched teeth. “Shall Dwarf do it” recited the rest of the troop together.

Crobble pulled out a spiked festooned urn from the pack. “This is our last blaster. As you know, we have no cord, only the contact plunger. I can set a timed deadfall to go off after we have left the area, maybe this time the beast won’t dig through the rubble.”

“No” hissed Felder “ I will take the beast with me.” Crobble handed the blaster urn and the plunger to Felder, “As Urf wills it.”

“Shall Dwarf do it” replied Felder.

Each Dwarf in the troop took a moment to touch foreheads with Felden, their last words of farewell known only to themselves. Then with Basto leading the way, the troop marched to the front end of the tunnel to resume digging. Some cycles later, a low rumbling echoed up the tunnel. “That will be the beast, finally making it through the rubble” said Gasper.

No response was needed, they had known this was coming, as it had happened so many times before in the past days. Several minutes later, a large crack and whumph of the blaster going off, collapsing the tunnel behind them.

The digging paused as the troop paid last respects to Felden. Should they survive, his name will be recorded in the Book of Glittering Stone as Felden, the Kinsaver.

The digging continued for another shift. Basto chose Crobble and Brezzny as scouts to go back and inspect the rubble behind them. Crobble, his pack of tools and gadgets nearly empty, looked sad in the waning glowlight.

“Perhaps this time the blaster will have killed the beast.” said Brezzny.

“We dropped a ton of rock on that beast when we first encountered it, using five blasters. We lost a dozen good dwarves, and it's still hunting us.“ responded Crobble morosely. “I have no faith we have done anything except slow it down.”

They pair reached the rubble marking the explosive cave-in caused by Felden and the blaster urn. Dust was still in the air, making the dim glow light nearly useless. Crobble placed his palms on the tunnel wall. Brezzny cleared the rubble from a patch of floor, and placed his palms down in the bare spot. The dwarves remained in silence, listening and feeling for vibrations.

Brezzny closed his eyes, allowing his dwarven sight to reach out through the stone. He could feel the deepness of the earth with his palms, the ancient stone solid beneath them. There was a cavern up ahead, that was their tunnel destination, the mountains had come together here a millenia ago, leaving a series of faults and crack lines, which they were now tunneling through. Somewhere nearby water was dripping, an anomaly this far north, were they not being hunted it would be worth investigating.

There, he felt it, a scrape and rumble of stone. Something was moving the rubble. No dwarf could have survived that blast. The beast still lived. Brezzny opened his eyes and turned to look at Crobble, saw the expression etched on the venerable face. Crobble must have felt it as well.

Crobble turned back to the tunnel wall and spread his palms further apart, waited for the next scrape, then spread his hands even further, waited once more for the telltale vibrations. Then, his measurements done, turned and faced Brezzny. “Its about 5 picks deep and coming this way.”

The dwarves headed upwards towards the others, nothing further was needed. The beast lived, it was still coming, and they still didn’t know what sort of monster it was.

There was no clearing this time, only the cramped and unsmoothed tunnel to rest in. Basto had sent Broxen ahead to work alone. Mining alone was risky, but these were not normal circumstances. Broxen, all muscle and limited vocabulary, was the best choice to send for solo mining.

Brezzny laid down to rest, the beard and chest of Basto as a cushion. Here, in the frozen northlands when all seemed lost and hopeless, he at least had a little piece of home and comfort. Basto had been a mere squad leader when they left Forgehome, back when they were 50 strong. Now they were only 5 with Basto leading them all. Brezzny could feel the copper signet of troop leader woven into Basto’s beard, it felt hasty and uncomfortable, an intruder, like a hedgehog in the hearth.

Basto did not rest, he had not for many days. He merely stroked Brezzny’s hair and waited in the darkness. Then a sudden crack and triumphant shout from Broxen. And inexplicably, a breeze of moisture laden air swirled into the tunnel. The dwarves bumped and crashed and generally made fools of themselves in their haste to reach the tunnel head.

There was light. Broxen had breached a cavern filled with glowmoss surrounding a stream of water. Broxen was standing by the stream, muscles clenched, hands cupped. He had caught himself just before dipping in. He turned back towards the bumbling troop, “Crobble!” he roared. “Thirsty Crobble!” Crobble answered him “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Crobble fumbled in his pack and pulled out a waterstick, thrusting one end into the stream. Gasper leaned over Crobble’s shoulder to look, nearly knocking him into the stream. Basto grabbed hold of Gasper and pulled him back, “Give him space lad, we all want to know.''

Crobble pulled the stick out and started to chant, inspecting the stick in the dim light of the glowmoss. The rest of the troop, Broxen included, chanted along. The waterstick chant was one of the first things learned by every dwarf child, it turned various colors in the presence of poisons in the water. But some of the reactions took longer than others.The chant was a timer for how long to wait. As the chant finished, Crobble held up the waterstick triumphantly. “Its safe lads” he cried. The dwarves fell to the ground at the stream, this was their first water in many days, their beards were dry as broom bristles.

Finally filled with sloshing belly, Crobble picked some glowmoss to repack the depleted glowlight. Gasper, taking a look further downstream found some blistershroom and fungweed. Neither was particularly tasty without cooking or spices, but they were edible. The troop fell to without complaint, even mighty Broxten got his fill. After feasting, the dwarves laid on their backs contentedly, enjoying the feeling of being neither hungry or thirsty.

Basto, however, was staring intently back towards the tunnel mouth they had emerged from. Brezzny arose and went to him. The elation from finding food and drink drained away with the remembrance of the beast. “Brezzny my love, you have the best stonesight of us all. Take the glowlight, also Crobble and Gasper, go find a way out of this cavern and towards the surface.” Brezzny laid a callused hand on Basto’s shoulder and gave a squeeze of acknowledgement. Basto continued. “I will stay here with Broxten, see if we can collect more food.”

Brezzny walked towards the others to relay the message. Gasper handed the pack to Broxten, Crobble held the glowlight aloft, and the trio headed upstream towards the cavern wall. The water was coming through a crack near the cavern roof, not large enough for any of them. Crobble and Gasper moved a ways off to either side. Brezzny closed his eyes, placed his palms on the cavern wall, extending his dwarven sight as far as possible. He could feel the water coming down from above. The crack was natural, but the stone was cold. This water should have been frozen, something above must have melted it. The stone was weak here, the cold in the stone was out of harmony with the warmth of the running water, causing many microfractures. Digging would be easy, but they must be cautious to avoid overstriking and causing the tunnel to collapse on itself. Brezzny turned away from the cavern wall as the others approached. “This is where we should dig.” Crobble nodded agreement “I shall go back and fetch the others.” he said, then turned and walked downstream, the glowlight bobbling as he went down the slope.

Brezzny gripped the pick and began to strike. The cracking was easy due to the fractures, but the dance of digging was slow, after each strike there was a pause to determine if the vibration had dislodged something unintended. Gasper collected the shards and moved them out of the tunnel. It was dangerous work, collecting shards in blackness, but the tiny troop had gone well beyond grumbling about dangerous work in the days since the beast had first attacked.

Strike. Pause. Strike. Pause. Crack step see. Strike. Pause. Strike. Pause. Crack step see. Brezzny was lost in the rhythm when a shout came from below. Gasper hustled down to the tunnel head, “They are coming!” he shouted in panic, running back upwards. Brezzny stopped digging, shoved past Gasper. Gasper grabbed at him “Brezzny, No!” but Brezzny kept going down the tunnel, just as light became visible below. Crobble was just entering the tunnel, carrying the pack and glowlight, he tossed them down, and slammed his palms into the tunnel wall. Broxten’s massive frame entered the tunnel, carrying the limp body of Basto.

The darkness of a thousand depths slammed into Brezzny. Broxten laid Basto’s broken form unnaturally onto the ground, limbs splayed out, armor rent and glistening red . His beard, Basto’s beard, there was something wrong with his beard. Basto would never let it get unkempt like that, thought Brezzny. He reached through the molasses slow air, there was a comb in Basto’s left pocket, if he could reach it in time, then he could straighten the beard and all would be well. If he could comb out the beard, then he could comb out the armor and the limbs and the tears and restore Basto to his rightful place. There was sound, someone was shouting, Brezzny tried to wave it away, but something was placed into his hand. The comb? He looked at his hands, it wasn’t the comb, how was he supposed to tidy up Basto’s beard with a glow light? Then Basto’s body was getting further and further away, Brezzny strained, but something was holding him back, pulling him back, and then a wall of rock rushed towards him.

CRACK CRUMPH Brezzny was thrown backwards, head colliding with the floor, and darkness sprang upon him.

–

Brezzny climbed upwards into consciousness, the pain in his head nearly equal the pain in his heart. Gasper sat nearby, glowlight showing one arm tight to his chest fist clenched, the other hand holding a bit of cloth.

“Wh wh Where are the others?” rasped Brezzny, his voice breaking the silence. Gasper startled, but did not look away from his cloth. “They’re gone Brezzny” he whispered back. “The beast was chasing them towards the tunnel. I tried to stop you, but when you saw Basto, you sort of checked out there for a while.”

Brezzny closed his eyes again, sudden memories of Basto lying on the floor caused a flood of tears. Gasper continued “Crobble said, he said the beast was slowed down by the stream. So he and Broxten, they collapsed the tunnel. Broxten made a big crack to try and make the water flow over the rubble. I just barely had time to pull you back out of the way. “

Several minutes passed before Gasper finished his sentence.

“All three of them were crushed by the rubble.”

Gasper was now crying as well, he was holding up the cloth scrap in a shaky fist. “Its a note from my papa. It says. It says, come home safe my little gasperlight. Thats what he called me when I was just a little dwarfling”.

Both Dwarves sat in silence for some time, lost in reflection. Now they were just two out of fifty, far from home, lost and hunted.

Eventually vibrations from above stirred them into awareness, there was rhythmic pounding, machinery grinding, and the low hum of voices chanting. The unmistakable signs of work being performed. Gasper’s left arm was unusable, injured when the tunnel collapsed. Brezzny took off his tunic to use as a makeshift sling, binding Gaspers arm as best he could, then took up the pick and began to dig.

The stone was cold but growing warmer, somewhere above them was a great heat. For Brezzny the digging was slow, he could no longer close his eyes to see the stone, for visions of Basto’s broken body were waiting in the darkness. The digging however, eventually brought the tunnel to a wooden wall covering the stone.

Brezzny carefully pried a board loose, peering beyond. It was a large room filled with shelves. Clearly not made by dwarves because the shelves were constructed of wood, and not built by tallfolk either the ceiling was too low. Brezzny pulled down enough boards to slip through. He crept to a door on the far side, sliding it open a crack.

After so long in the deepness, the sunlight was blinding, doubled by reflection off the snow. It was quite some time before his eyes were able to take in the scene. But he smelled the ovens, someone was burning coal and baking unfamiliar spices. The wind carried fresh mint on every gust, and there were stables nearby. Sounds of hammers and singing, much too high pitched for dwarves, and besides, what dwarves would do their hammering above ground?

When the Brezzny could finally see, the snow covered landscape was decorated with ribbons of red. Low buildings with oval doors were laid out haphazardly, painted bright green.

A large workshop dominated the scene, 3 stories tall with 4 smokestacks and a massive gear works on the side.

And then he saw them, gangly creatures dressed in multi-colored tights and pointed hats. Singing songs and carrying garishly colored packages.

Brezzny closed the warehouse door and crept back towards the tunnel. He rejoined with Gasper and began sliding the boards back into position. “It’s better we go back down and face the beast.” said Brezzny with a deathly sound.

“Why, what did you find out there?” asked Gasper.

Brezzny turned to face him, face as gray as the granite walls. “Elves.”