Einar felt a pit in his stomach grow as he rode through the first arch of Moghahm.
The forge-smoke seemed to hover a dozen feet off the ground near it, and the sight that came into view left no doubt why Bartia had been so frustrated with Vikings.
There were a pair of dwarves, slightly smaller than him, in what looked like armor that barely fit, beards that were six inches long, watching him.
Each looked ready to say something unkind, their lips clenched so tight the hair on their chin puffed out.
“Bartia Shatterplate! What are you doing here?!”
The sound of the same dwarf from earlier came from the left and Einar watched as his dwarven friend quickly dismounted from her giant horse and strode to a dwarven woman taller than her.
Thick blond hair was tied back, and her beard and braids were well-maintained.
Each woman greeted the other with hard slaps on the arms, laughing and smiling as they came together.
“Scrombles tried to send me to my death, I think, but who knew these Vikings would prove themselves and kill two giants!”
Gasps came from the gathering crowd of dwarves, and Einar saw looks of confusion from a few as they glanced past the caravan that was beginning to enter the forty-thick-foot gate.
“Two giants?! You’re–” The blond dwarf started to exclaim, stopping when she spotted a few of the large bones that were sticking out of one of the wagons. “Did you… kill the one between us and the swap?”
“We did,” Bartia replied. “Come Stefi. Let me introduce you to Einar Sibbinson and his warriors! Also someone send word to Gromm that there is one who seeks an audience.”
Lips moved as the taller dwarf blew a raspberry, and then she whistled.
“Orin! Komli! You two stop gawking and run to the hall! The Gromm, we have guests!”
“But–”
An icy blue glare came from her eyes as she stared at one of the smaller dwarves, cutting them off before the pair took off running, their armor bouncing around as they moved.
Dismounting, Einar handed his reins to Thorodd and moved to where the two dwarves stood.
“It is an honor to be in the walls of Mighahm,” he said, bowing slightly. “I am Einar Sibbison, and my warriors and I are grateful to Bartia for helping us arrive here alive.”
“Stefi Brightaxe,” she replied, holding out a massive hand. “No doubt we’re in debt for the help in killing those giants. I can only imagine the loss you all suffered.”
A snort came from Bartia who winked at her apparent friend.
“It wasn’t as bad as you might think. These Vikings are… different. They are strong and the stories we heard back when we only had fuzz on our chins have come to life before me. This one even commands fire.”
Coughs came from the half dozen dwarves gathered at the edge of the entrance, and Einar smiled, holding up his hand and summoning his wyrd.
Flames covered his fist and gasps came as the onlookers stepped back.
“A warrior who uses magic…” Stefi said quietly.
She cleared her throat and pounded her chest, bowing slightly.
“We are honored for you and your warriors to be within our walls. Please follow me, and I will take you somewhere where you can rest and be safe. We need to close the walls in case the other giant decides to appear.”
“So the rumors are true? There is a second one?”
Stefi nodded at Bartia and motioned for them to follow her as she moved from the entrance to the city.
“There are two with some armor and weapons. Or I guess I should say there were two. They have been problematic for a while but I know Gromm will be glad to hear we are down to just a single one for now. Perhaps we can harvest a bit more grain than usual.”
“How bad is it?”
A grunt came from their guide as the blond-haired dwarf turned and frowned.
“We’ve been doing food rations for the last two weeks. The pass through the mountain has been… more dangerous than usual. The trolls have been appearing in larger numbers, and then the other monsters plague our paths. Even the mines are…” She stopped talking and shook her head. “No, it’s not my place to say such things. Gromm can discuss with you all everything that is happening. For now, what can I do to aid you and your warriors?”
Einar smiled, motioning to the wagons and Vikings that were following them.
“We’ll need a place to store some of the materials we harvested from the giants. Obviously, we are happy to pay for such a service as a few will need to be kept from spoiling. I’d like to look at trading for some of the famous dwarven weapons every Viking dreams of owning.”
Stefi smacked her lips and shook her head, eyes focused on his hip.
“I can see the weapon you carry and know it is not one we made. Do you try to tempt me with your words, hoping I’ll open my mines and let you pillage my vaults?”
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
A few chuckles came from the warriors behind him and Einar held up a hand, shaking his head.
“No, I am simply speaking the truth. You can ask Bartia we are in need of new weapons and I am the only one with something like this. It was a gift from the King and Queen of the elves.”
Her blue eyes widened and the dwarf reached up, stroking one of her beard braids.
“A gift… from the King and Queen. That… seems difficult to believe.”
He undid his axe and held it out to her, shaft first.
“Hold it and see for yourself.”
As Bartia had, Stefi winced the moment her fingers wrapped around the wood, eyes narrowing as she brought it up to her face.
“These runes… I…”
The dwarf closed both eyes and said something in a language Einar couldn’t understand, lifting the blade to her lips and blowing on it.
The runes began to glow blue, and the dwarf coughed, yanking the weapon back and quickly holding it back toward him.
“You need to take this and guard this! A weapon like this… it is a treasure most could only dream of.”
Retrieving it from her, Einar studied her face and the tightness of her jaws.
“What did you do? I mean, how did you make the runes glow?”
Growling slightly, Stefi shook her head at him.
“A talent and a gift. We do not have time to discuss it but know there are dwarves who have many different gifts. Bartia has not unlocked hers yet as her beard is too short. One day it will manifest and when it does, we shall sing and drink for the gift she has been given. For now, let us hurry. I need to return to the walls.”
Einar slipped his weapon back into the loop and turned to see Thorve frowning slightly.
She gave him the slightest bob of her head as he turned back to their guide.
“Perhaps she shall receive it for all the help she has granted us. Maybe the gods will–”
“Do not speak those things,” Stefi said, turning and moving again. “We dwarves see your gods differently. Now then, if you would, we must avoid delays.”
He followed behind the pair as the dwarves began speaking in their native tongue, voices lower and making it impossible for him to understand.
His eyes glanced around the balconies of partially abandoned buildings. Each one was carved from uninterrupted veins of marble, polished to resemble the ribs of some large creature.
The presence of a smoke that seemed to wisp around town as the wind blew grew thicker as they approached a building where the sounds of metal being struck rang out through a pair of large open doors.
Warm air could be felt coming from it, even though they were easily fifty yards from the opening and red sparks were noticeable as they passed.
“Not what you were expecting?”
Einar shrugged as he smiled at his wife.
“I can’t say I’m sure what I was expecting. Thorve warned me that these cities wouldn’t compare to the elven ones but… while the stone work is impressive, it’s not that… magical? Worse though, is the lack of dwarves. Like the elven towns, there are buildings here that are abandoned. These are covered in a soot that hasn’t been cleaned or walked on. That means they are fewer in number as well. And those… children.”
“I think those were teens,” Avitue said. “But yeah, I know what you mean. This place feels almost like a tomb of sorts. Cold, uninviting, and barely hanging on. Where are the dwarves that sing songs and parade through the streets half drunk? The fighting and the boasting? All the stories we ever heard.”
“They’re gone,” Thorvee hissed. “You two need to guard your voices. As low as you think they are, you’re louder than you know. Remember we are guests no matter what we have done. There is no promise of help and we’re going to meet with a dwarf that we’re not sure of his opinion of us. Ensure the men and women know to guard their tongues lest we find ourselves put out.”
“Then do that. You and Thorodd go as my voice. Move along the caravan and tell each Viking what you have just told me. Ensure the leaders know I will hold them responsible for any one under their care who causes problems, resulting in lower ranking for runes and materials.”
She nodded and left him walking with Avitue, the sound of her whistle she used whenever Thorodd was summoned by her.
“Thorve is worth more than you told me. She has wisdom and knowledge we could only dream of. Perhaps Odin does know you need help.”
Einar grunted and hip-checked his wife. “I have never doubted her wisdom. Each day I have told her and Unnulf that I got the better end of the deal no matter her cost. Right now, I’m concerned about the pass. How bad must it be for a dwarf to say what she did?”
“Did you honestly expect an easy journey to the dwarven capital?” Avitue asked.
“No, but I had hoped for a little more time before things got harder. We’ve already fought two giants and I need to try and get someone to fix the harpoons. We’re down to one that will inject poison. Not that it matters, as we’re down to two barrels of that stuff. I already told Osvif we’re done using the poisoned spears. Somehow I can’t see the giants we face from this point on being weak to them and we’re wasting the resources by poisoning the tips. We’ve already had one Viking die because he cut himself.”
“A fool,” Avitue muttered. “Still, I think we’re in for a fun time. While you see problems, I see a chance to face things we have only heard of! Imagine it! You and I are getting to face monsters every Viking warrior dreams of!”
“Right before they find themselves dead,” Einar replied. “And no, don’t give me that look. I know death is always a possibility, but what concerns me is the fact we have the boon we do and the knowledge of how bad things have become. Odin and the other gods don’t just hand out boons for fun. If they did, every Viking in Valhalla would have one. Instead, each one we have received came when it was needed.”
“Which means you think we’re going to die. A lot?”
He nodded and took her hand, kissing it.
“I still need to reward you for saving Bartia and using your wyrd how you did.”
“Bah, I don’t want some damn coin with your face on it!”
He laughed, his voice echoing off the stone buildings, and the two dwarves who had moved further ahead turned and looked at him.
“Sorry, my wife reminded me that I still owe her something!”
The pair turned and kept walking as Avitue elbowed him in the side.
“You’re going to get us in trouble… but still, I don’t want a coin. I want something else. Something far better than that.”
He studied her face and saw the intense gaze she was giving him, those green eyes narrowed slightly.
“Dare I ask what you’re wanting?”
“I want a dwarven sword.”
Groaning, Einar closed his eyes and frowned.
Taking a deep breath, he let it out, seeing that Avitue was still looking at him intently.
“You’re serious… I can tell.”
“I am, and you’re going to do it. As you promised on our wedding day, I spoke with Bartia and she told me about them. You, my husband, are going to finally give me the gift I’ve wanted.”
“What? I’m not the gift you wanted?”
It was her turn to laugh and cause the pair of dwarves to glance back.
“Oh you silly man. While you’re an amazing husband and fighter, trust me, there is more in life that I want than just you. Like every Viking, I want a weapon I know will cut through any armor or flesh.”
“Dear Odin… what did you give me…”
Another elbow caught him in the side, and Einar chuckled, adding another thing to his list that would cost him a great deal of money and reagents.
