LIGHTNOVELONLINE Cavern Exile: Are Demons Real?
“Father! Father! Put the chisel down and listen to me for once!”
Runethane Broderick scowls at his daughter, who has just burst into the forge while he’s in the middle of forging—her human blood is showing, no dwarf would disturb a fellow smith at work. Not to mention the fact that he is in the middle of the most difficult projects he has ever undertaken.
“Father!” she snaps.
He sighs loudly and puts down his meteor-heart chisel—he can never find the will to properly discipline her. He turns from the beginnings of his key lying on Thanerzak's ancient anvil and looks at her.
“What is it?”
“We need to talk,” Braedle says sternly.
“I need to forge.”
“Your forging isn’t more important than our victory—or defeat, which is what’s going to happen at this rate.”
“Hardrick will finish them off.”
“That’s who we need to talk about: Hardrick. Your golden miner.”
Broderick rolls his eyes. “Let me guess: you’re in love,” he says sarcastically.
“Listen to me, father. He disobeyed your direct orders.”
“So what?”
“So what?” Braedle spits. “So what? He’s always been surly and reluctant. But this time he’s gone too far.”
“A dwarf should be able to forge what he wants, when he wants. In the end, that’s what’s important—to seize the creative spark when it appears.”
“We lost the battle because of him. Hundreds are dead!”
“We wouldn’t be here in the first place if he hadn’t appeared,” Broderick points out. “You’re just jealous.”
“He disobeyed your direct order! If anyone else did that, they’d be dipped into boiling magma.”
Broderick shrugs. “Yes, well, he’s a special case.”
“Special? There’s something wrong about him, father. Don’t you think it slightly odd that someone from the mines, someone under five decades old at that, forges like a five century veteran?”
“Of course it’s odd.”
“It’s beyond odd. It’s freakish. Some of my dwarves are saying he’s possessed by a demon.”
“Nonsense. Demons aren’t real.”
“I know that. They won’t believe me.”
Broderick shrugs. “What does it matter what they think? As long as they obey him, and they do, there’s no trouble.”
“How can you say that when he disobeys you!”
“I’ll give him a talking to in time. Maybe a short spell in the dungeons.”
“A short spell in the dungeons? For disobeying a direct order from his Runethane? Father, I don’t want to repeat myself, but we lost because he wouldn’t show his face. Hundreds are dead.”
“Hundreds with shitty armor and weapons. It’s no great loss. We still have over a thousand fighters.”
“No great loss? Now the enemy can repair and rearm!”
“So? You think that matters?”
“Of course it bloody matters!”
“I could cleave through them without breaking a sweat. We’re under no pressure here now Thanerzak’s dealt with.”
“Vanerak is—”
“Vanerak is the same as his master was. Uninspired. Unoriginal. Tungsten armor? Still? After all these years, with the dragons dealt with for centuries? Him and all Thanerzak’s cronies don’t understand art. All they can do is imitate their betters. If they weren’t so dogmatic, maybe I’d be worried. But they are dogmatic.”
“Just because you’re Runethane doesn’t make you invincible. Enough first degrees pile in on you, and you’re dead as Thanerzak.”
“Not those first degrees.”
Braedle crosses her arms. “We’ve strayed from the topic here. I’m here to talk about Hardrick. We need to find out the secret to his forging.”
“If there is one.”
“Of course there’s one!” she snaps.
Broderick leans his elbow on the anvil and grins. His eyes, the only part of him not coated in gold chain, glint.
“Why should there be?” he says. “Perhaps he’s just a great genius. The Runeforger was one, wasn’t he? The great genius who invented the runes, made us dwarves what we are today. A once in a hundred thousand year genius. Well, a hundred thousand years have passed since then. Perhaps even more! Aren’t we about due for another great genius?”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. What he’s doing goes beyond genius. There’s something supernatural about him.”
He shrugs. “Well, yes. Anyone can see that.”
“Then why won’t you do anything about him?”
Broderick rolls his eyes and his mocking smile vanishes. “Forging isn’t the only thing I think about, you know. I have considered the possibility that this Hardrick is... malignant, in some form. Dangerous he certainly is. But for the moment he is an asset.”
“For the moment. He’s getting more surly by the day. He might be after your position.”
“Hah!” Broderick barks. “No chance, Braedle, no chance.”
Braedle scowls. “With his rate of improvement—”
“No. Once I have this key forged, no dwarf can stop me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true.”
“Heat isn’t the deciding factor when it comes to forging. Only a child would think so.”
“Ordinary heat maybe.”
“What are you on about? Heat is heat.”
Broderick’s grin returns. The pink of his lips shows through the golden mail embedded in them. “Its not mere heat the key brought. It’s dragonfire.”
Braedle frowns in confusion. “What?”
Broderick walks over to the keyhole and rough furnace in the wall. He reaches his hand into the hollow and points downward.
“Where do you think the fire for Thanerzak's furnace here comes from?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Magma? With something mixed into it?”
“You can’t comprehend, can you? I said dragonfire, and I meant it.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“Oh, but I am. When the key is turned, out comes real dragonfire. The only originality Thanerzak showed in his entire life.”
Braedle feels her heartbeat quicken. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“But how?” Braedle demands. “When a dragon dies, so does its fire. They're living flame.”
“The dragons aren’t dead.”
Braedle rocks back. “What?”
“They aren’t dead.”
“They have to be. Thanerzak—”
“Made a big show of capturing them for trial and execution for crimes against dwarfkind, but he never carried out the sentence. No one ever saw them die, and later on I caught wind of some rumors.”
Braedle’s eyes widen. “You mean..?”
Broderick’s grin widens. “They’re down in a big prison, and when the key up here is turned, their fire comes shooting up tungsten pipes into this room.”
“Then your dragonfire forge you’ve been building—”
Broderick laughs. “You thought it was just a pretty name?”
“I thought it was going to house salamanders. But...”
“The dragons are sealed in cages. The same key unlocks all of them.”
“Can’t you just cut through the bars?”
“I took a good look at the mechanisms after I finished off Thanerzak. If the bars break, the dragon inside is slaughtered. No, I need the key. Then the dragons, still in chains, can be moved to their new home.”
“I see. But why not just forge here?”
“In this grimy hole? No thanks. I’m not just moving the beasts for aesthetic reasons, though. I have a device I’ve been working on that will magnify their heat a thousand-fold.”
“I see.” Braedle is too shocked to say much else.
“With the dragons’ power, and my artistic genius, no one will ever be a match for me. The equipment I forge will be fit for a hundred Runethanes put together. And then it will be time for me to forge my crown. So, my dear daughter, you don’t need to worry about Hardrick.”
Braedle nods. Her hands are shaking; she quickly clenches them into fists. “I see. I still think we should find out what he is, though.”
“We will. In time.”
“And we have to quell the rumors about him.”
“No. Let them spread. Let everyone believe the fearsome Runethane Broderick has recruited a demon to his ranks.”
“Very well. If that is your decision.”
“It is.”
“One more question, father.”
“Yes?”
“Will you fight with us tomorrow? If Hardrick doesn’t prove enough? Vanerak is strong. You may criticize him, but he’s still stronger than us.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll come along if you need help. I doubt you will, though.”
“Thank you. I’ll be leaving, then.”
“You do that,” Broderick says.
She exits and Broderick returns to his old master's anvil. He picks up the length of diamond and turns it over in his hands. Squares of light reflected from its facets play across his golden face and chest. The general shape is nearly done, so soon he can move on to the details—he’ll have Hardrick cut the lock out and in half so he can see the inner shape. That sword of his really is remarkable.
Broderick frowns. He puts down the diamond. He strokes his golden beard.
What is Hardrick? Until now Broderick has thought of the miner's rapid ascension only in strategic terms, as a fine stroke of luck, a blessing on his efforts against Thanerzak. A potential danger if he decides he'd rather go it alone, to be sure, but that's the thing: until now Broderick's worries extended only to wondering if he might rebel.
Yet maybe he’s had his head in the furnace for too long.
What is that miner? What are his secrets?
And how in hell are they going to find out? Judging from the slightly stupefied look that comes across Hardrick’s face whenever Broderick talks to him, Hardrick himself doesn’t know what lies behind his power. He's just as surprised as anybody.
Well, can’t be helped now. Broderick steadies the diamond with his left hand, picks up the meteor-heart chisel with his right, and resumes his work.
Morning dawns. The cavern brightens outside the small, high window of the forge and my sweat glistens under the sunrays. I have not slept tonight—the repairs were harder than I anticipated. Toward the end my hand slipped and one of the runes blasted itself in half, leaving a burning blister on my thumb and an obvious weak point in my armor.
I sigh bitterly at the ragged hole. I’m still not quite as brilliant a smith as I’d like.
Can’t be fixed now, though. Time to move out. I equip my still-warm armor, take up dark-glowing Heartseeker, walk out onto the streets and start toward the mountain.
My orders were delivered a few hours past midnight. I’m to be stationed underground in a smallish tunnel. Apparently a small force might try and come through. Might, which likely means probably won’t. If Vanerak really wants to keep me alive, and I think he does, the place I’m heading will be the very calmest part of the battle.
Perhaps I won’t see any action at all, provided those up at the main breakthrough fight well. And I can’t see them losing with Vanerak at their head. Not even to Broderick, Runethane though he is.
After all, there has to be a point where a first degree gains the strength to be worthy of ascension to Runethane. From what I’ve heard, and by the look of his tightly-scripted armor, Vanerak has reached this point.
We will win the battle. I’m confident of this.
The only unknown factor is the black dragon. I shiver as I imagine it slithering along the tunnels somewhere, preparing to turn the lock to whatever hideous power lies hidden far below our feet.