The Kartoss Gambit (The Way of the Shaman: Book #2) (36 page)

"Of course. Do you want to know them all or some particular one?"

"Any one would do. I need to understand the logic of how they made it into the history books."

"Then I will tell you about Brarn Goldhand. His story is the most exemplary."

I got comfortable and turned into one big ear. Listening to bedtime (or whatever time of day this was) stories is always interesting. Only one thing bothered me — as soon as I get my sight back, I'll have to catch Beth and stop her from summoning her demon. A pity: just when we started to get on so well.

"All of this happened very long ago," my landlady began the tale. "When the dwarves lived in the cramped caves of the Rurat mountain...

* * *

'Brarn, sledgehammering damnation, where are you going?!' a stocky, practically square dwarf, his eyebrows in a frown, watched Brarn going down into the depths of the Black Maw chasm. In the many centuries of his people's history no-one had yet succeeded in descending below the level of darkness. To the place where the thrown torches could not drive back the black and show what the gloomy haze concealed. The daredevils who went below this fateful threshold never returned. Those who went down on a rope were lifted back up with eyes full of terror. Dead eyes. And now another young fool decided to explore the secret of the chasm — without a rope, trusting only in the strength of his hands and innate agility of the undermountain people.

"Father, I'll be quick! I have to find out what is concealed by the darkness. What kind a chief would I be if my subjects end up laughing at me my entire life? Our people need knowledge and I will gain it for them!"

"Fool, if you make it back, I'll give you one hell of a tawsing, even if I don't know what that is exactly," although he was very worried for his son, the Chief was a proud dwarf. For three thousand years now the dwarves had to reconcile themselves to the fact that their mountains had an incomprehensible area where no-one could go. And now his son and only heir, dared to do what even the bravest dwarven warriors were too afraid to do: descend into the Black Maw.

"Father, if I do not return, tell Talisha that Brarn Sergenius is afraid of nothing in this world," giving a farewell glance to his father, the young dwarf disappeared in the impenetrable dark.

"Argh, the hells!" the chief threw his axe down in anger, but immediately picked it up. A dwarf without an axe and a pick is no dwarf at all. This would mean shame for the rest of his life. But that Brann was something else! Got his daughter to egg his son on to go down into the Black Maw. Right to his death. And how did he come to allow this? He thought the youngsters were just playing around and that their fathers' problems didn't bother them, but no they saw and noticed everything, those sharp-eyes kids! Could it be that this stupid hundred-year dispute now lost him his son?

Two hours went by, but the gloomy veil of darkness remained undisturbed. His son did not return. The father flicked away a tear and headed back to the settlement. He was the Chief and it was his duty to look after the people. He had no right to show any weakness or he would face an immediate challenge from his rivals. But why were his feet so treacherously weak and tears kept trying to come back to his eyes?

"So where is our weakling?" at the entrance to the settlement the Chief was met by Brann's mocking grin. Compared to his peers, Brarn really did look more of a gnome. Almost a head shorter than the others and narrow-shouldered, he ate less and was constantly busy thinking or doing something. He even started to visit the smith outcasts, trying to fathom their secrets. Brarn was interested in everything, with a sole exception- he was not a warrior. Everything that was connected with weapons, blood or killing fell outside his sphere of interests. "So he finally decided to go the way of dogfood, eh? Ha-ha-ha!"

Only his willpower, forged in his many years of ruling, stopped the Chief from attacking Brann. He was right after a fashion — there was no place for weaklings among the dwarves. The fact that Brarn survived until he was twenty, could only be called a miracle and his own will as the chief. Sooner or later he was going to run out of luck, and that black day finally came...

According to tradition, the wake for his son took place five days after his death. It was not a very big gathering — Brarn didn't have any friends, only close relatives. To everyone's surprise Talisha came, dressed in white, the color of death, as a sign of solidarity.

"Today we have gathered to celebrate Brarn's return to our forefathers. Let us make merry and dance, showing how we mourn the departed," the Chief addressed the gathering. "Brarn was a good dwarf, even a somewhat unusual one, but..."

"Chief!" and out-of-breath guard burst into the hall.

"Why did you leave your post?!" the head of dwarves frowned.

"Chief... Brarn is coming..."

Not believing his own ears, the Chief ran out of the hall and immediately half-covered his eyes. The caves in which the dwarves lived could not be called dark, but there was never enough light there. And now, from the direction of the Black Maw a bright sun was moving towards the settlement, decimating the centuries-old twilight of the caves. When the Chief's eyes got used to the bright light, he saw that the sun wasn't moving of its own accord, but was carried in the hands of a painfully familiar-looking dwarf. Narrow shoulders, short stature... Brarn had returned. Losing his head for joy, the father rushed towards his son, but only a few dozen steps away he froze in his place. It was his son, but at the same time it was a stranger. The dwarf's once naive eyes now shone with great wisdom; despite the unsteady step of the tired-looking sentient, it was clear that a lord was now walking through the stone caverns; the black hair of a youth turned into silver locks of an old man and the bright sun in his hands turned out to be an ordinary hammer.

"Father," Brarn's thunder-like voice echoed through the cave, "I found out what lay hidden in the darkness. We should not be afraid of it."

"Son..." the leader didn't know if he should rejoice or not, so great was the change... Was it his son that returned?

"Father, I have changed. We have to change if we want to survive. At the bottom of the chasm there lives... I don't know what to call it — there lives a something, very ancient and wise. It has been watching us for a long time. When a dwarf descends to it, it shows him what would happen to our people if we continue down the path of war and violence. Father, we will die out! We have to change! Those that dwell under the mountains have to become master craftsmen and I will do everything in my power to make this happen."

"Ah, the weakling's back," Brann appeared next to the rejoicing crowd of Brarn's relatives.

"Father, don't," shouted Talisha, but the old dwarf ignored her.

"Turn off your flashlight, sonny boy! Or I'll shove it down your throat. You're disturbing my sleep!"

"How dare you..." the Chief was incensed, but Brarn interrupted him:

"Leave him, father. Those like him are dragging the dwarves back, into the jaws of anger and violence. We can be warriors, but we have to craftsmen first. He cannot understand this. He is too weak."

"WHAT?!" roared Brann. "You called me a weakling? You?! In the name of our ancestors I challenge you to a duel! Right now! You won't come back to life a second time," not waiting for the youth to reply, Brann grabbed his axe and hacked at him from above. Or rather, he wanted to hack at him, because at the last instant the shining hammer flew up, blocking the hit, and then went down on the attacker's head, flattening it. A silence filled the caves. The elvish armor, that Brann bought for a great heap of gold coins and which was considered the strongest armor in Barliona, was flattened with one quick hit of a weak dwarf.

"Before a dwarf can become a warrior, he first needs to become a Master," Brarn's voice thundered through the caverns. "I became a Master when I forged this Hammer. The wise being helped me and from now on darkness holds no danger for those who want to take the path of the masters. But any who desire strength alone... It is best for them not to descend there. They would not return. From this day on, I, Brarn Sergenius, will lead the dwarves on the path of master craftsmanship...'

* * *

Brarn kept his promise. Just a hundred years later dwarves had turned into unsurpassed masters in Smithing, having far overtaken the elves in this art. All the ancient Great Masters of the undermountain people are represented in the Karmadont Set. Each of them created at least one shining object, all of which, together with Brarn's hammer, formed the Legendary Radiant Set. Eight shining items. A dwarf wearing it could become a paladin, irrespective of his class."

It was a beautiful story! During Elizabeth's tale I felt myself standing next to the Chief when Brarn descended into the chasm, mourned the dead with the others in the dwarvish manner and squinted in the bright light of the hammer. But straight away I had questions:

"Who was in the chasm? Who was hiding behind the darkness? And where is that set now?"

"I have no answer to that. After the numbers of dwarves grew and they abandoned the Raurat mountain, there was an earthquake. The city under the mountain, almost empty by that time, was completely destroyed, together with the Black Maw. Whom it was concealing remains a secret of the ancient masters of the undermountain people, a secret that no-one had yet discovered. That was also the time when the Radiant Gear of the dwarves was lost. It was kept in the central building of the settlement and when the roof began to cave in there was no time to take it out. The King under the mountain, a liege of our Emperor, periodically sends free citizens to search for it, but this has so far been fruitless. I don't know if this would disappoint you or not, but the King only sends dwarves for this. This is not a path that can be taken by members of other races."

Hang in there, Eric. When you get to level 100, you have some difficult searching ahead of you.

"Thank you, Beth. You were of great help. Now I understand everything..."

The next morning had a productive start. First of all I called over Clouter and gave him his present, which made him explode with joy, summoned Draco and sent them both to play in the courtyard: let the lad level up my Dragon — useful for me and a joy for him. At level 17, the Totem could now stay out for three hours, so by the time that ran out I planned to have my Totem returned to me with at least 25 levels in him. After this noisy crew ran off to the yard, I entered the design mode. I now knew what the Dwarf Warriors should look like. Although... It wasn't right to call the Great Masters 'Warriors'. But if that's the way Karmadont saw them, he must have had his reasons.

Eric's image appeared in the darkness of the design mode. I removed his pick, but then, after some thought, brought it back, fixing it on his back and also adding a double-handed axe next to it. You can't have a dwarf without one. Now, to create Brarn from this, I had to make Eric more narrow and short and thin out his beard a little. An apron, that's another thing that's missing. And his face is a little covered in soot. And the gloves on his hands. And burn marks on his boots. And...

There were many other 'and's. When I finished correcting Eric, he looked nothing like the dwarf that I knew. I made eight copies of the figure and was about to exit the design mode, when something stopped me. The figurines looked alike, but it would have been wrong to make eight Brarns. The system may not accept the result and I would fail to make the Dwarf Warriors. I need to give them some distinctive features, something that would make each master recognisable. But what? The answer came of itself. The Radiant Set. Each of the dwarves created an object from that set, so if this one is given the hammer, and this one the braces and this one the shield... When I finished giving out the items, without even knowing if they actually existed or were the fruit of my feverish imagination, I was completely satisfied with the result. Even if the dwarves had similar looks, the different shining objects made them unique. I decided not to worry about how I would represent this light in stone for now. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

"Mahan, why aren't you calling Draco? It's been two days already," Clouter's disappointed voice brought me back to reality. I opened my eyes and looked around. What did he man 'not calling for two days already'? The lad, head hanging low, was standing a couple of steps away from me.

"Do you mean..." I was about to ask, but stopped just in time. I saw Clouter, which could mean only one thing — the 'Blindness' debuff had expired. In other words — my eyes grew back. The two days flew by as if they never happened.

"Oh, you can see already! I really didn't believe you would," fired off Clouter, looking up at me. "So, will you summon Draco? We haven't finished playing last time."

"Of course. I'll call him now," I replied dully, immersed in my own thoughts. I created the figurines, now I just had to embody them in Lapis. If I remembered how things went with the orcs, the embodiment happens at the rate of one figurine a day. I will need around eight days dedicated only to the crafting of the figurines. Does this mean I can kiss good-bye to leveling up? I think not — I had to increase my levels. The figurines can wait, they won't go anywhere. I called over Draco and was about to go and have some food, when my gaze fell on the Totem's level. It was 32 and Draco turned from a half-dead serpent into a dead Dragon. At such a rate he'll reach the needed level in just a couple of weeks! I selected Draco and opened his properties. Holy cow! His settings! I could change his settings! Barely restraining myself, knowing that I had to go and level up, I sent the kids back to play. Still, my hands were sure itching to look around the properties and settings and see what could be changed, corrected or selected.