One by one, the dwarves sat down at the table again. Then, when they got situated, Thokrim spoke. "Few can resist His promises. You are strong of spirit, Sentinel."

I shrugged. "Well, it seemed like a bad idea to take his offers. Plus, I don't like how I feel when I tap into the power He gave me. Too angry." I shrugged. "I'm just not that angsty."

The dwarves all looked at one another and nodded, with several chuckling when Thokrim translated my words.

Tristan kissed my cheek, whispered, "Thank you for being honest, love. I'm so proud of you," then sat beside me. "So, now that we've got all of that out of the way, can you tell us anything about this thing?" She pointed at the sword. "We know it's a magic sword and it's bad and all that, but where did it come from? And who made it? Even if you only know a little, it might help us figure something out."

Thokrim cleared his throat. "Kiuran here knows something about it, but he does not speak common. I will need to translate for him."

"Please do."

He turned to one of the dwarf men and said, "Tharzul Kiuran duleth."

Kiuran, an impossibly wrinkly old dwarf man with soot staining every inch of his face, scratched his beard for a moment before speaking. "Kiuran duleth, ko..."

I couldn't make out the rest of his words from across the table, but once he'd said a few more words, Thokrim began translating.

"When the city was in chaos several months ago, and before the Templars arrived, few wished to work. But old Kiuran here, he is a good worker. A great one. Never before has the world seen such a worker. Not once in all the chaos did her ever set his hammer down. Thus, as he toiled away, one day, he met the source of that blade."

The old dwarf grunted.

"Who was it? And do you happen to know their name?" The latter question was more for me than the quest. I needed to know.

Thokrim asked the old dwarf, but Kiuran shook his head. "He does not know the answer to either question. However, he has more to tell if you would hear it."

That was dwarven for shut the hell up and let me talk. I'd learned that from Renard more than a few times. "Sorry. Continue, Kiuran."

The old dwarf grunted and continued.

"When Kiuran was working his forge late one night, a woman approached him. Handing him papers depicting this weapon, along with many crystals and many more bags of ore, she asked him to make this thing. After setting aside the crystals, for he does not covet wealth, he saw that the ore bags were filled with copper, iron, myrshale, and some ore that looked like coal. She asked if he might make these hilts before us out of those ingredients. She said they would be powerful weapons for good and that Kiuran would be well-respected for his efforts. Knowing this, he agreed to take the job, but he soon learned the job was not good but bad."

Kiuran shook his head. "Malthenek."

Not understanding, I turned to Tristan and asked for the translation with my eyes.

She translated the word: "Very bad."

Made sense. "What happened next?"

"Not knowing what the weapon was, and wishing in his heart to do great good, Kiuran took the ore and began to smelt it. However, when he finished smelting his first ingot, the thing poisoned both his smelter and his hammer."

"How?"

"He says the flames in his smelter never grew bright again, and his hammer shattered into dust after a single day's work."

Okay, the bad ore did bad things. Got it. "What happened then? Did he stop working on the rest?"

"Yes. When the woman returned weeks later, he gave her back her crystals and, not wanting to cheat her of her belongings, handed her the finished ingot and the rest of the unrefined ore. Yet, when the rest of the hilts were not ready, she flew into a rage."

"Let me guess. She attacked." That was what these people did.

"Yes." He pointed at a burn scar on his arm. "I was there that day. She said that only experienced smiths like us could finish the object, so she insisted that he complete his work and we assist. She also said that she would claim us and take us with her to her abode if we did not complete her work. This time, we refused as one. She did not like our answer, so, thinking to take our homes from us, she attempted to burn down our Tinker Town. That day, Kiuran nearly died."

Flames? Images of that massive ball of flame falling on me and Vral down in the Pit filled my head. I was confident I knew who that mage was. I just hoped I was wrong about her actual identity. How could someone like my Devon fall so low? "How'd he survive?"

"Kiuran is strong, and the Khozad'dum are stronger together. As such, we held her off for some time. Luckily, as she began to defeat us, we learned that Renard was eager to see his people and came to find us. When the mage saw him, she screeched like a devil and fought as viciously as a cornered badger, but he had her outmatched. Our brother proved to be the stronger of the two, but before the killing blow could land, she used magic to send herself away. We have not seen her since."

Something wasn't adding up. "If you knew about these blades from the start, why even take the job to begin with?" I pointed at the old blade on the table. "You already had one here, right?"

"We did, but few remembered it. It was only recently that Torum returned from a sojourn to Tharoven and reminded us that, many years ago, he retrieved a similar blade from Embermist Keep." He pointed to the man who'd placed the pitted blade on the table. "The timing was simply not good. It is easy to forget much in a hundred years."

Shit, I bet. "Makes sense." I looked at the blades. "So what makes these swords so dangerous, anyway?"

"They are an old weapon the dark ones used to poison the souls of the people, turning them to their side against their will. If you resist the pull, you die. If you succumb, you become tainted, able to hear His voice as you do. Slowly, His voice becomes all you can hear."

As terrible as that sounded, it sounded a lot easier than what I went through. Aerell had to beat me half to death every day for me to hear Him. Well, that was part of it. I'd learned from the evil bitch near the end that there needed to be a seed. That was what she looked for in people to break. For me, it was my parental trauma and the death of my sister. For her, it was her father's abuse. For the first time in a long time, I felt a pang of empathy for the woman. No one woke up one day and decided to be terrible.

"If they're so powerful, why aren't more made? Shouldn't the Hands of the Fallen be using them everywhere if they can make them?"

"Hands of the Fallen?"

I got the feeling I could trust these people. At least, I wanted to. I needed to be able to believe that not everyone was a hidden threat once again. That cynicism had been eating away at me for months. I hated it. So, I decided to go for it. "There's a cult operating in Istaera that we believe worships the Dark Lord's children. They've been abducting people like me to be broken into their service, and they're using magic to transform peasants into monsters. I think they're trying to use these swords to do something similar. They've also joined or are using the Crimson Kingdom to do their grunt work for them. We've been trying to stop them."

"I see..." Thokrim scratched his beard. "You have taken on a great burden."

"We have."

He stroked his beard. "As to your question, there was only one of the dark children who knew how to make these blades. A powerful mage, one who preferred subterfuge to warfare. That is why these blades are not everywhere."

"Who was he? The mage?"

He turned to the old dwarf and said, "Kiuran, thum magus?"

"Thum... eh..." Kiuran shook his head. "Nekdek thum."

"He no longer remembers the name. I remember my grandfather's tales, though, of the powerful mage who called the scions family. He wielded a blade of red flame and walked wearing the faces of his foes." He pointed at the swords. "From my memory, to be made, it was said that his black blades required a magic only he could wield. After he was slain, they rotted away. All, save for those within his keep." He pointed to the pitted blade on the table, then the replica. "However, it seems that others can be made that are similar enough to the originals, though I know not how that can be." For the first time, he reached out and touched our blade's hilt. "I wonder, though, how long it will last in the Goddess's light?"

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

As if responding to his words, a piece of our black blade broke off and crumbled away just like the other had.

"Not long, I think."

Interesting. I was glad I didn't get sent back to that time when I came to Reial. It always sounded like such a nightmare. "Thank you for that. Going back to the woman who approached Kiuran, is it safe to assume she escaped with the ingot he made and the ore?"

"Yes. It seems she found someone else to finish the thing, though not many could do it."

"Thum Dorit," Kiuran said, pointing at a small symbol on the hilt.

"Who's Dorit?" Tristan asked.

Thorkim grunted. "She is one of our wayward daughters, but she is of no concern to you." He glared at Kiuran, who set his hand down and looked away.

The way Thokrim responded, I had a feeling that wasn't exactly true, but there was no use in pushing a dwarf when he didn't want to be pushed. "Do you happen to know someone who could finish these blades? We'd like to speak with them if you do."

Thokrim scratched his head. "I..." He shook his head. "None are known to me."

"Please," Tristan leaned forward. "We're just trying to help the Counts stay alive, and we want to help the people of Galden and Khozad'Thar." She took my hand. "And, if we're lucky, we might be able to stop more of these from being made. We've seen what they do to people. It's horrible."

Davik's poisoning was horrible. I wouldn't wish something like that on anyone. "We really are just trying to help. I promise."

The dwarf wiped his face with his hands. "I do not wish to see her punished for her indiscretions. She is young and passionate, and she seldom thinks before acting. Those are not crimes worthy of punishment, only scolding."

I held up my hands. "I'm not here to punish anyone. I'm no judge or jury. I'm just an idiot who's trying to help his friends."

He was quiet for a few minutes. Then, he gave a soft nod and said, "Dorit is young and curious. I am sure she meant no harm. Can you assure me that she will be spared if she is found?"

"Yes. Of course. You have my word."

Words appeared in my head:

You gain the quest [Find The Blacksmith at the Edge of the Depths].

"Did you get that?" I asked Tristan.

"Yeah," She responded. "Looks like we have a direction."

"Your word is known to be honorable, and it is also known to be good." Thokrim nodded again, this time more firmly. "Dorit lives deep in the mines. Her home is near one of the entrances to the Bowels, near where they connect to the Depths, in a place where she keeps to herself and stays busy collecting that which interests her. Between the monsters and the potent ore, she has much to find and even more to work with. In years past, she would bring much with her when she visited."

Finally, some luck! The Bowels was the name for Galden's dungeon, and we'd traveled through it plenty in our time as escorts. All we needed now was a direction and some landmarks to follow, and we could find her. "Is her home somewhere near the path down? We've traveled that way many times and know the way."

"No. It is not on the way to Khozad'Thar." He gestured to the southwest. "She lives on the far side of the mines, past the collapse. It will not be easy to reach her."

Shit! I hadn't thought about sections of the dungeon being inaccessible. I felt a wave of dread, then. Why, exactly, had the mine collapsed in the first place? Word had been that it was from a monster attack, but no one knew for sure. Now, I wasn't so sure about that story. "Is there no way to get to her, then?"

"There is." He pulled out a piece of paper and started sketching a path with a charcoal pencil. "The Bowels connect to the Depths, and they are not so very far from Copperhold. To find Dorit, you must go through the entrance deep under Copperhill, which can be found at the very rear of the lowest floor of Copperhold. Then, you must march through the Depths for a day or two until you reach the Bowels. You will know you are there by the sight of the Glowstones. Once you reach it, you must find your way to the mines. From there, I am sure you will hear the noise."

That sounded like an absolute nightmare. I really didn't want to be underground that long. I wasn't exactly claustrophobic, but still. I had my moments these days, what with the whole having a mountain fall on my head thing. "Is there no other way?"

"To dig through the collapse, it would take several weeks to clear the way, but we cannot work for free, and we have no money to hire enough adventurers to protect us. Even if we did, adventurers lie and extort when out of sight of the guards. We would not spend money on them unless we had to."

"And if you were paid? And we could guard you?"

"If you were to guard us, perhaps we could do this, but it will take time, and we would lose much. One man, even one as strong as you, and his beautiful wife could not protect dozens of us alone."

"His wife, huh?" Tristan's eyes met mine, and she grinned. "I won't correct him if you won't."

I laughed. "I'm not about to."

She kissed the back of my hand. "Good boy."

"Likewise, we know nothing about what lies on the other side. I would not dig without knowing it is safe."

Trying and failing not to grin from ear to ear, I processed his words. That made a lot of sense. "As much as I want to find Dorit, wouldn't it be better for the twin cities to keep the dungeon sealed?"

"It is better not to let the mists grow stagnant." Thokrim shook his head. "Too dangerous."

"The mists?" I knew the word, but I didn't know much about it. I just knew it involved mana and stuff. Monsters formed from them, I thought, but I was no mage.

"The mists rise from the Depths, growing thick where the air is stagnant. Her light cleanses it, but it must reach the surface."

"The Temple used to carry glowstones through the Depths to cleanse them, but with our shrinking numbers, we don't do that much anymore." Tristan sighed. "I wish more people would join the cause."

"As do we. With the mine collapsed and the Bowels half-sealed, I pray nothing arises that might hunt the people of our cities. There are also many rare ores down near the Depths that could be of use to the people. If we had the resources, we would open the way ourselves, but alas, we do not. Only fools like Dorit delve so deep."

Sounded like there weren't any alternatives. "Looks like we're going back to Copperhill, then." I looked at Tristan. "It's been a long time since we've been there, huh?"

"Sure has. Feels like a lifetime." She shook her head. "And we met Vral for the first time at the far entrance of the mines, too. Small world."

"It is, isn't it?" I laughed. "Guess it'll be a little homecoming for us."

"Yaaaayyy..." Her voice was flat. "That's exactly where I'd hoped we'd end up during our time off."

"Yeah, me too." I laughed again, then turned back to Thokrim. "That got me thinking, what about the mine entrance on the far side of Galden? Could we go through those?"

He shook his head. "No. Those are shallow and only lead to Galden. They do not connect to the lower mines."

Fine. "Is there anything else you can tell us about reaching her?"

He nodded and handed me his hand-drawn map. "Always be sure to hug the left wall. If you do, you will likely avoid the Beast of the Bowels."

I'd heard that name before. It was a powerful monster found down there. "What can you tell us about that?"

"It is a monster, but beyond that, I do not know. Suffice to say, it is death if you face it. If you see large holes in the walls, turn back and don't stop until you reach the Depths."

"Great." I sighed. Was there any other option? "Does she ever come to town?"

He shook his head. "She only comes to Galden once a season to gather supplies, and not always every season. I am not sure how the mage found her, but it is unlikely you could do the same."

Find her... That jogged something in my memory... Hadn't we used something out in the forest to find Baelgrim? "The map!" I looked at Tristan. "Tris, we could use the map to find the way!"

Tristan shook her head. "What map?"

"Remember the map we put Uralt's shoes on? And those letters to find Baelgrim? We could use it to figure out where Dorit is!"

"Oh yeah, I forgot all about that!" Tristan smiled. "Where did we leave that thing?"

I thought back. Where had we left it? "Did we leave it with Arden?"

"I don't think so." She cocked her head. "Didn't Greta take it?"

Shit. That was it. She'd asked to keep it after our stay with her in her Baba Yaga chicken house. "Damn, you're right." I sighed. "That would have helped a lot."

"Maybe Elise could reach out to her?"

I shook my head. "She only has a few of those message scrolls, and Greta's busy fighting larger problems than what we're dealing with. Let's not waste a future resource if we don't have to."

"Look at you, getting all wise and prudent." Her eyes sparkled.

"Oh, I'm slow, but I'm getting there."

"You are." She squeezed my hand.

Thokrim asked, "Do you mean to say you have used a Pathfinder's Map?"

I shrugged. "Is that what they're called? We put some stuff on it, and it showed us where the people who'd touched the objects had been. Does that sound familiar?"

His eyes lit up. "I did not know they still existed!"

"They're that rare?" Figured that Greta take a long-lost artifact for herself. "Yeah, we used one a while back."

"Amazing." He turned to the others and whispered a few words. They all rumbled together before growing silent again. "Few were ever made, and the way to make them has been lost. Who let you use such a precious thing?"

"We found it on a quest."

"And do you have it still?" His eyes gleamed. "We would pay you anything to have it."

"Sorry, we don't have it anymore."

"Do you know who does?"

"Greta the Witch."

His eyes grew wider. "You know the old hag?"

Old hag? Hardly. Greta was gorgeous. "Yeah, we've run into her a few times."

He said a few more words, and the dwarves rumbled louder this time. "If you see her again, tell her Thokrim and the dwarves of Tinker Town send their regards."

"I will."

Nodding, he continued, "It will take you a week or so to reach Dorit, if you move quickly."

"We'll have to get supplies," I said, mostly to myself.

"We'll need to find Vral, too." Tristan wrung her hands. "I hope she's okay."

"She's crafty. I'm sure she'll be home tonight." She better be. Shaking the small bead of anxiety out of my head, something else stood out to me. Maybe... if they got what they needed... "Thokrim, if I could, say, get you the sponsorship of Elise and Khadrel, the protection of Renard and the Templars, and the assistance of the guards, and if the three of us cleared the far side of the collapse, would you want to clear out the downed passage in the mines?"

Thokrim turned to the other dwarves and spoke some words I didn't understand. They all spoke together for a time. Eventually, he turned back to me and nodded. "We would like this, yes. And, if they were willing, there is much more work to be done down there. My people built the mines, so it should be our duty to maintain them, but our numbers are too few after the Duke stole Khozad'Thar from us. If you could get us those things, we would forever be in your debt."

I nodded. "Then I'll do everything I can to do that for you."

"You are as honorable as you are good, my friend." He stood and held out his hand. "Thank you." He took back his map and drew more paths onto it before handing it back. "From Dorit's, follow the northern route, and you will find the collapse."

"No, thank you." I took his hand and gave him a firm handshake. Hopefully, the Counts would be up for this little plan of mine. It sure would make things simpler. "You're going to help us have a much more pleasant return trip than the journey there."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.