As they crossed the threshold into the dwarven tunnels, Veryyn was taken back. In front of him laid a sprawling roadway that stretched both left and right as far as he could see. Most strange to Veryyn was the oddly bright white light that the place was illuminated with. His eyes were accustomed to seeing the faint yellow glowstone torches in dwarven dwellings. Many dwarves of varying size walked hurriedly in each direction. Within his view he saw as many dwarves as he had ever laid his eyes upon. Indeed, it was obvious that this was just an artery of a sprawling underground metropolis. Perthran and Kotia appeared unmoved, and Veryyn acknowledged this quietly to himself. They had obviously seen all of this before. Another strange thought was that the dwarves inside appeared unmoved by the commotion outside of their enormous dwelling, and the dwarven younglings played in the road with abandon while their parents hurried this way and that.
The four armor-clad dwarves guided the group gently to a large building just inside the fortified checkpoint. It had the appearance and feel of a guard barracks. The door appeared enormous and ornate in a way that was typical of the holds that Veryyn had seen far in the north. It swung open with apparent ease before the leader. Between their mumbling as they had hurried them through the troops, Veryyn had picked up the leading dwarf’s name, Gurney. He stood before them stout as a stone, with long strawberry colored hair tinged with grey. It fell from his head and chin in neat braids and captured numerous blocky beads within. Moving through the entryway of the large barracks, Gurney lead them towards a large room off to one side. The walls were polished neatly on all sides in the entryway, and were adorned with numerous whirring devices that appeared alien to Veryyn. Gurney stopped before the doorway and ushered them inside the smaller room. Walking through the small doorless entryway, a pit grew Veryyn’s stomach.
The room ahead was sterile, and polished to a high shine on all sides. The only break in the floor was a solid black line of unknown material that extended from one side of the floor to the other, up each wall and across the ceiling of the strangely sterile room. No adornments were upon the flat, shiny walls. Ahead of them was a sturdy table, with a too-small bench built into the wall. Crossing the threshold upon the floor, Veryyn heard a crisp whoosh. The dwarves stopped short and Gurney addressed them in his deep manner. “The commander will see you here. I’d recommend you get comfortable.” He boomed. With a wave from Gurney, a marvel appeared before Veryyn. The air seemed to shimmer in a flat plane before him, and he noticed that there was no movement of air around him. “Gurney, I need to-“ Veryyn spoke, but as the words came out of his mouth, the dwarven escort had already turned about and made their exit. The heavy door closed behind them silently. A sudden realization came to Veryyn. He could no longer hear the hustle and bustle of the busy street that had filled his ears just a moment before. Barron appeared comically large in the small room and circled before lying upon the ground in a heap.
“You two seem very comfortable with this.” Veryyn spoke, with just a hint of contempt in his voice. Kotia picked up on his tone and replied calmly, “This is not new to us, I suppose. The dwarves have their customs. They can be abrasive, but there are no finer craftsmen!” Perthran appeared almost hurt by that comment. “I’d beg to differ, Kotia. You’ve seen my work.” Kotia let a small smile across her lips as she sat calmly upon the carved stone bench. “I don’t believe I misspoke, Perthran.” She let out a small chuckle before pulling her legs up underneath herself, posturing as if for meditation. As she did, Veryyn walked slowly towards the doorway they had entered. “I wouldn’t do that, friend.” Perthran spoke quickly but too late. As Veryyn crossed the shimmering light that spread across the room, a violent crack was heard. All of the light faded in Veryyn’s mind, and he was flooded with excruciating pain, before total darkness.
Awareness slowly crept across Veryyn. He became acutely aware of a burning pain in his right hand. He opened his eyes and let out a groan. He laid at the feet of the bench where Kotia had been sitting. Above him, Barron stood protective with a deep woody growling coming from his brutal maw. “Bet you won’t do that again, ha!” Perthran chuckled to himself. Veryyn crawled to all fours before pulling himself up to rest upon the bench. I’d recommend you get comfortable Gurney’s words echoed in his head. It had sounded like a recommendation at the time. He looked at his right hand and realized that it had a charred, burnt appearance. Clutching it to his chest, Veryyn held his hand in pain. Kotia walked to him, but was stopped by the lumbering Barron. “Let her through, Barron.” Veryyn spoke with pained emphasis, and with eyes closed. Kotia came near to him and he stretched his hand before him. “These barricades are something else. Can you believe that this lumbering oaf had a hand in designing them?” Veryyn’s confusion was clear as Kotia layed her hands over top of his injury. The familiar black tendrils flowed from her, and his burnt, charred flesh seemed to slowly repair itself slowly.
“Who are you two, truly?” Veryyn spoke quietly, but his voice seemed less strained than before. “We spoke truth to you, Veryyn Fenvellum.” Kotia said. The emphasis on his last name made her intentions clear. “But I believe that we both withheld some secrets. I know the old elven histories.” Veryyn became withdrawn again. The old stories, of course, had occurred generations before this young human was born. He remembered the swamps of his homeland fondly. A shudder came to him as he thought of his regal mother and father, as well as his warrior brother. They had been such a strong band. “I do not use my family name lightly, young Magi.” Veryyn spoke softly to her and there was a moment of understanding. Kotia pulled away from him and they sat side by side upon the too small bench glancing towards each other occasionally. “I believe that I have your full truth now, Veryyn. Let me explain a bit of ours.” Kotia said. “We spoke the truth, that we are traders. However, we did not bring goods with us from Garamas. We perform a service for the dwarves here.” Slowly, she pulled at something from beneath her dark robes and produced it.
In her hand, was a small, intricate box. She handed it to Veryyn to examine, placing it in his palm. He made a motion weighing it in his hands, and it felt too heavy. “Take care opening it, just pull at this latch.” With a motion, the latch clicked free. Fine craftsmanship, undoubtedly dwarven Veryyn thought. Opening the small box unleashed a dull white glow that emanated outward, and in the air was a crunchy static unfamiliar. “Look, but do not touch. You’ve learned that much already.” Kotia spoke, grinning slightly. His eyes drew in the sight before him. It was no more than a light grey, nondescript lump of stone or metal when examined directly. However, the low glow made the hair stand up upon his hands and neck. “Behold, Veryyn, raw fulminaurim.”
Ricky Hurlich Shorts 