Forge of Ashes Page 2

  Akina paused within the main chamber to let the sense of the place engulf her, memories sparking in her mind, stories and legends and history she'd given little thought to ever since leaving home. All dwarves of the Five Kings Mountains grew up with abundant reminders of their heritage. Even outside the temples, countless statues, murals, and anvil-shaped altars celebrated their maker and god, Torag, whose forge hammer had birthed their race within the Darklands and who'd given them a simple prophecy:

  When the ground shakes beneath your feet, you must leave the caverns of the world behind and journey upward at all costs.

  For even though dwarves still toiled beneath the earth, in ages past they'd existed far deeper, and knew nothing of the surface. When earthquakes wracked the world, her people had embarked on the grand Quest for Sky, traveling for three centuries and braving monstrous dangers to finally answer Torag's call.

  Though not all of them had done so. Akina frowned, but her reverie was interrupted by a sweat-stained cleric who escorted them to a side room where they could hold a conversation. A grin split his black beard as he focused on Ondorum, giving an excited bob of his head.

  "A son of the earth! We're blessed to have you with us. Have you come to ply your strength in Torag's honor?"

  Ondorum bowed with a rueful smile. At the dwarf's quizzical look, Akina explained the monk's vow of silence and then presented her own inquiry.

  "I'm looking for my brother, Brakisten Fairingot. He served here awhile back."

  The cleric's beard sagged.

  Akina removed her helm and clutched it against her side."What's wrong?"

  "You must be Akina." The cleric drummed fingers on the hammer strapped to his belt."We're blessed to have you back with us, but your brother has fallen out of favor." At her scowl, he raised calloused palms."It isn't my place to speak his deeds, but I can direct you to him. Please, tell him he's not beyond redemption. But he must be willing to go through the fire of renewal if he wishes to work beside us once more."

  Akina stepped closer. The cleric gripped his hammer but didn't draw it.

  "Where is he?" she growled.

  Chapter Two

  Brother's Keeper

  Akina rammed a shoulder against the tavern's front door and tromped inside. A single lamp flicked shadows across the simple bar and the tender who gawked at her from behind it. Rough-carved tables and chairs littered the area, and it took her a second to scan the assembled riffraff. Her brother wasn't present.

  Ondorum waited by the doorway as she marched over to the barkeep.

  "Brakisten Fairingot," she said."He here?"

  The dwarf scowled through a bristly beard."If you're looking to collect, you'll have to wait a few. Snuffstone's boys already have him out back, and I doubt he'll have much left to pay with by the time they're through with him."

  Akina chucked her chin at the back door set off to one side."That way?"

  "You want to poke around in Snuffstone business, go out the front and 'round the side. But they don't like being interrupted."

  "Right. They'll have to get used to disappointment." Ignoring the bartender's bark of warning, she clambered over the counter and strode through the back storeroom. Another door deposited her into the broad alley behind the tavern, filled with rubble and scrap.

  Three dwarves already occupied the space, and Akina barely recognized Brakisten as one of them. He stood with an arm locked behind his back, held by one of what she assumed to be the Snuffstone brothers.

  Brakisten wore a tattered robe stained yellow and green down the front. His black beard and hair had grown wild, hiding most of his eyes and cheeks. He breathed heavily, and his eyelids drooped.

  A Snuffstone brother tangled a fist in Brakisten's beard and growled threats until the other nodded Akina's way. He spun, scowling.

  "Off with you," he said."This don't concern you."

  She reached back and gripped her maulaxe."That's my brother you're working over. You've business with him, you've got it with me."

  "This lout's your kin?" His grin exposed a silver tooth."Never figured anyone would admit to being related to this soppy soul. Don't you know what he's done?"

  "Let me guess: he owes you money, hm?" Akina hid her dismay behind the nonchalance, pained to see Brakisten in drunken disarray. How had he fallen in with these ruffians?

  The Snuffstone brothers shared a look. The one holding Brakisten let go and whacked him across the back of the head as he dropped. Brakisten curled up on the ground, shivering and whimpering.

  Akina bared her teeth."I might expect surface folk treat him this way. But not his own kind in his own home."

  The first Snuffstone prodded Brakisten with a boot."You wouldn't claim him as kin if you knew. He got kicked out of the temple years back for stealing from the coffers. Then he started raving about Droskar and how we're all doomed to burn in the Ashen Forge. He's nothing but a mad traitor."

  At her snarl, they put hands to the blades at their belts.

  "Don't you dare accuse him—"

  "It's true," Brakisten whispered."I've stolen from Torag himself. Droskar will take our souls. I've seen it..."

  She stared in horror. Mentioning the Dark Smith, much less proclaiming doom in his name, equated to blasphemy for some dwarves. And her devout brother admitting to thievery? It had to be the ale addling his senses.

  When the other Snuffstone reared for another kick, she stepped closer."Touch him again and I'll break your knees and knuckles."

  "Oh, the little lambie thinks she's a wolf." The lead dwarf blocked her path while his companion laid a blade across Brakisten's throat."We're the ones with fangs, see?"

  Akina trembled in rage. It'd be so simple to let it wash over her and leave these two as quivering piles of pulp. If the fury claimed her, though, she might hurt Brakisten before she regained her wits.

  The dagger-wielding dwarf nicked Brakisten's neck."Brak. Brak! Lookie here. This little lambie claims she's your sister."

  Brakisten dribbled drool over his beard."Sh-shut it, you lying bastard. Just leave me alone. Lemme sleep."

  The dwarf chuckled."That's rich, it is. Calling me a liar."

  One of Brakisten's eyelids peeled upward, revealing a bloodshot eye. He stared at Akina, then closed his eye again.

  "Go away. You're a ghost. Everyone's a ghost now. All darkness and ghosts."

  Grinning, the lead Snuffstone crossed his arms."Seeing as you're so protective of this poor soul, how's about we strike a bargain?"

  She curled fingers into fists."How much does he owe?"

  He scratched the tip of his nose."With interest and whatnot, I'd wager right around a hundred gold."

  Akina sputtered."What kind of crook are you?"

  "Aw, c'mon, little lambie." He rapped knuckles on her ram-shaped helm."Can't you see he's had a hard time? Why not make it easier for all of us? Do your sisterly duty, pay his debts, and we won't have to chisel it out of his hide."

  She hauled her maulaxe free. The Snuffstones drew their blades, but she just held out her weapon.

  "This is worth at least a few hundred. Here. Take a look."

  One stepped in, eyes narrowed but head cocked in curiosity.

  She dropped the maulaxe headfirst onto his foot with a thud. Even as his howl rose, she dove at the second dwarf. A wild dagger slash clanked off her breastplate. She grabbed his beard and yanked his forehead down against the curve of the ram's horns. Eyes rolling, he staggered and crashed to the ground.

  The first dwarf roared as he turned and charged—straight into her cheek-cracking punch. He dropped alongside his brother. Akina heaved breaths as she stood over them, wanting to pummel them into scrap. Her vision fuzzed around the edges, and her nostrils flared, scenting sweat and blood and smoke.

  Then Ondorum shifted into view at the alley's end, worry etching his features. While Akina's fury didn't vanish, it ebbed at the thought of him watching her beat the two dwarves senseless. So she tended to her brother and let the violent cravings bec
ome a background buzz.

  She grabbed Brakisten's stained robe. He grunted and tried to bat her away, but she gripped his chin and forced him to look at her.

  "Brakisten. Stand up. We're going."

  Groaning, he slumped. Then he clawed upright, using her armor as handholds until he stared blearily at her face. She chuffed at his rank breath and tried to ignore the embers that simmered in her gut. At last, the disorientation cleared from his eyes and he took her into a hug.

  "Akina! My big sister. You're alive! Let's go inside and buy a round to celebrate."

  She grabbed an arm to guide him out of the alley."Let's get you home. Where's mother?"

  Brakisten choked a laugh."Mother's dead, Kina. Been dead years now."

  Akina froze."You're drunk. She can't be dead; I've seen her work across the city. Some of it's recent."

  He staggered free and leaned against a wall."That's not her work. It's Gromir's."

  Her fingers twitched."Whose?"

  He dropped to his knees, buried his face in his hands, and wept. Aghast, she stared at this wreck of a dwarf while a mocking voice whispered in the back of her mind.

  Welcome home, Akina.

  Chapter Three

  Graven Images

  As Akina hauled Brakisten back up, Ondorum came over and took his other arm. She nodded in silent thanks, not trusting herself to speak.

  They maneuvered him out into the street. It saddened her to discover that almost everyone they passed recognized Brakisten in this state; a few even knew her, though they treated her with an odd reticence, as if unsure whether to congratulate her homecoming or not. Perhaps her return reminded them of the many warriors Taggoret lost during the Goblinblood Wars.

  Muttered requests got her directions to where he lived. When they arrived, her face flaming with shame, she kicked the door wide and they stumbled into a stone hovel. Two rough-hewn rooms contained little more than a rickety bed in the back, with a dry washbasin and small dresser in the front. Ratty clothes and boots lay piled in one corner. Not so much as the tiniest anvil altar to be seen.

  She dropped Brakisten onto the bed. He snored, and she resisted the temptation to shake him awake. He'd be useless like this. However, she knew where to get more answers.

  Grimacing, she turned to Ondorum."Not how I expected things to go."

  He frowned in sympathy and tapped his temple.

  She shook her head."No. It didn't take me that time. That was necessary."

  His expression remained dubious.

  "I could've done worse and you know it. I'm fighting the rage better now. It doesn't control me as much."

  He tilted his head.

  "At least, I think so." She stared at her hands."Hope so. Sometimes it seems life is nothing but fighting. Fighting the rage. Fighting myself. Fighting idiots who can't see how badly outmatched they are. I thought coming home would give me a rest." She puffed her cheeks."Apparently not. At least those fools will think twice before threatening Brakisten again."

  At his deeper frown, she pounded a fist against the nearest wall."Don't tell me I can't be angry for my brother! Nobody died. Besides, if you'd really been worried, you would've stepped in. I know you were just around the corner." She headed for the door."Right. My mother's old workshop shouldn't be far. I need to go figure a few things out. Make sure Brakisten doesn't wander off to get cockeyed again, hm?"

  Ondorum looked over at her brother and mimed lifting a bowl to his lips.

  "I'll find a meal, sure. Lucky I saved a few coins before you gave the rest away."

  He reached out, offering a parting embrace, but she pretended not to see as she strode out. Once the door latched behind her, she squared her shoulders, swallowed hard, and set off to discover her family's fate.

  As she dredged up old memories, remembering which roads connected where, she fought against the sense of being a ghost, as Brakisten had accused. While the city remained similar in many ways, most of the faces had changed. She avoided those she recognized, though plenty of people pointed her way, even with her helm in place. A handful of other architectural pieces featured her, from archways to cornices to door knockers. With each one spotted, the urge rose to smash the ornamentations to shards. She'd never earned that honor. Maybe she never should've returned.

  She rounded a corner onto the street that ended at her mother's workshop. Her heart bumped up at the sign hanging over the door. Janna's Handworks. Light burned in the front windows and from the workshop in back. She fought to keep her pace steady. Her mother lived. Brakisten had been rambling nonsense after all.

  She entered, and a greeting died on her lips. An unknown dwarf stood at the counter, dressed in a simple violet robe, her reddish hair pulled back into a ponytail. She smiled at Akina and spoke in a husky voice.

  "Can I help you?"

  Akina locked eyes with her."Who're you?"

  The other dwarf frowned."I'm Selvia, the shop assistant. You've business with the master?" She waved at the curtained entrance to the back rooms.

  "Master? This is my mother's shop. Jannasten Fairingot. Where is she?"

  Selvia's eyes widened."You're... oh my, you're her. I should've realized." She bowed her head."I'm... I'm so sorry for your loss."

  Akina came up to the counter."What're you talking about? Where's my mother?"

  "Selvia? We have a customer?"

  The curtain parted. For a long moment, the newcomer joined in a three-way stare-down. Wiry for a dwarf, and with a sparse, golden beard, he wore trim work leathers over which he'd donned a cerulean robe. A bandolier peeked out from under his robe, strapping throwing axes across his chest. A tuft of darker yellow hair peeked out from beneath his tunic at the base of his neck.

  A memory flashed by of Akina's fingers tangled in that particular patch. She shoved the image away, not needing the distraction. Ancient history.

  He twitched a hand."Selvia, please see to the latest invoices on your desk."

  Selvia curtsied and slipped past him. He rounded the counter, hands raised as if framing her in his mind.

  "It's you. It's really you." He clapped once in delight."You've returned!"

  Akina pressed fingertips to her forehead."Gromir. Dust and drudgery, what're you doing in my mother's shop?"

  "Well, I—that is, I run it now, in the wake of..." His face fell."No word ever reached you, did it? I sent letters all around, but we had no idea where you might be. Or if you were even still alive to receive them."

  "What word?"

  "Your mother. Her... her death."

  Akina's shoulders slumped.

  Gromir wavered, looking torn between wanting to embrace her and respecting the years between them now. She remembered how he'd held her once before at a time like this, after she'd learned of her father's frozen body being pulled from the avalanche debris. How she'd used him to wear her out until she was too exhausted to feel grief anymore.

  She firmed up, refusing to show weakness this time."Brakisten told the truth, then."

  "You've seen him? I wish you'd have come here first; I could've prepared you."

  "Prepared me? For finding my brother's been kicked out of his temple for theft and is now a blithering drunk?"

  Gromir cleared his throat."That, unfortunately, summarizes it rather well." He raised arms and stepped forward."I'm sorry, Akina."

  She backed up, and her maulaxe bumped against the door."What're you doing?"

  He hesitated."Welcoming a dearly missed and beloved friend home?" When she continued staring, he lowered his arms."My apologies. I thought..."

  She adjusted her maulaxe straps. He'd always been a bit clingy during their time together. Apparently that hadn't changed.

  "I'd welcome some straight answers," she said."What happened to my mother? What happened to Brakisten? Why are you running her business and sticking my likeness all over the city?"

  He perked up."You've seen them, then? Do you like what I've done?"

  "Like it? Gromir, what in Hell were you thinking? Wha
t's going on?"

  He clasped hands behind himself."You've been gone a long time, Akina."

  "Right. Tell me the one thing I do know."

  "Hear me out, please." He bowed his head."After you left for war, once my guard post expired, I returned here to continue my studies. I never had your prowess in battle, and hoped I might find success in the magical arts. However, it proved an expensive effort. Jannasten supported my studies by hiring me, and we kept the business quite profitable. I eventually became her apprentice on top of my other pursuits." He moved back behind the counter and gazed up at various stone and metal panels decorated with icons and runes.

  "When most of the surviving volunteers returned after the war—minus yourself—we feared the worst. No one had any idea what had happened to you."

  "I joined up with a few mercenaries. Seems I'm pretty good at that sort of work."

  Gromir twitched."Ah. That's quite... enterprising of you." He coughed."But after five years passed, we were certain you were a battlefield casualty. I convinced your mother to let me honor your sacrifice in our work—a way to also uphold your ancestors' dignity as Brakisten's crimes became known."

  "So he really stole from Torag's temple? And started prophesying about Droskar?"

  "I wouldn't call it prophesying. More like disjointed rants."

  "My brother never had visions before."

  Gromir splayed his hands."Your brother is sick in mind and soul. Drink dragged him down, but he hid it well until they caught him pilfering straight from the temple coffers to pay his debts. That in itself might not have been enough, but then he turned violent against anyone who wouldn't listen to his ravings. It almost broke your mother, but she threw herself into the work even more fervently. I joined her, but when she disappeared—"

  "Disappeared?" Akina stepped closer."You said she was dead before. Is she dead or just missing?"

  Gromir sighed."Will you please just let me tell you? Here's the full of it: You know your mother loved this shop and her craft, but she loved seeking out new materials just as much—better-quality stone and ore to work with. Whenever she wasn't plying her trade here, she was out on some excursion or another. The last time, she told me she'd found a particularly valuable vein, but needed more proof to claim the strike. She swore me to silence, fearing competition. She knew the area well, so she said, and could navigate alone. Once she had the claim protected against jumpers, she'd take a proper team down. Despite my own worries, I'd seen her succeed numerous times. So she went. And never came back."