Veryyn closed the box, and the glowing subsided inside of their small cell. “But I don’t understand, is this small stone responsible for all of this?” Veryyn said, gesturing around. “Yes sir, sure is.” Perthran said delightedly. “With this little stone, you can power all sorts of things! You haven’t seen anything yet. We’ve figured out so many secrets of the stone. Every light in this place is powered by the spark stone. Every moving door and defensive shield. These dwarves are cunning, but we were able to-“ “Enough, Perthran.” Kotia interrupted. “Veryyn has a lot to take in. We have been bound to secrecy, you see. The dwarves here, they have a long memory. They remember the times before, and they are not friendly to outsiders. In fact, Perthran and I may be some of the only humans who have ever laid eyes on such a thing.”
Veryyn sat down, deep in thought. He had never imagined that the old halls would be filled again with dwarves, and now there must be more alive here than in the rest of the combined world! “How do these dwarves exist without trade with the outside world? I remember…” Veryyn trailed off. He was filled with memories of the old days, when the dwarven traders mingled freely with the people of Sphagna. The treasures that they brought from the mountains were wonderful, and the price had always been the same. Food was what they sought. Although the dwarven diet had consisted mostly of meat and mead, they were always in need of meal and root, if nothing else to feed their own livestock. A smile crept across the lips of Kotia as she answered.
“That might just be the most impressive of all the uses they have for the fulminaurum. Outside Fulmin-Dum, there are grand hallways there that glow brighter than above ground, and each is lined with endless rows of greenery. Carrots, potatoes, and even corn!” She exclaimed. “You really haven’t seen anything until you have seen a dwarf chopping corn three times his height!” Kotia giggled at the thought. “The Magi have recorded communications with Fulmin-Dum for nearly two hundred years as they have perfected their methods.” She added. Of course they had been in contact with the Magi, Veryyn thought. The dwarven peoples had always been hardy, like the stone that they dwelled within, but cunning and clever had never described them.
In that moment, their conversation was cut short by an odd rumbling and chatter that seemed to come from all around. The glimmer that had stood between them and the outer doorway had vanished, and all three stood facing the door. Barron grew anxious, and stood at attention as well. Through the smooth sliding stone door walked a large and important looking dwarf accompanied by the four they had seen before. Gurney stopped as his men became stiff and still like statues. Loudly, he exclaimed, “All hail, Thrain Valerous, of the Nordfjall, our king and rightful ruler of the North!” Veryyn’s companions appeared familiar with the pomp and circumstance, and following their lead, Veryyn bowed deeply. Although not dressed for battle as his entourage, King Thrain wore an air of superiority. His beard was a waterfall of pale white-blonde, neatly braided and adorned in the dwarven way. His face was rough and leathery, nearly a scowl, with heavy brows hiding bright blue eyes. Age hung heavy upon him, and he moved slowly.
With a wave, the king recalled his men, and when he spoke, it was slow and melodic. “Kotia, it is good to see you. And you, Perthran, although I’m afraid you’ve both come at a very unfortunate time. Knife-ears, who might you be?” A low growl came from Barron, and Veryyn winced at the casual insult. “Veryyn is my name. I came-“ Veryyn was sharply interrupted by Gurney who interjected, “Our lord Thrain will be referred to as King Thrain, my lord, or his excellency. If you intend on keeping your tongue that is, elf.” The sharpness of his words was familiar to Veryyn, but Kotia and Perthran seemed taken aback. “I am Veryyn, King Thrain. I believe you already know that, though.” The king’s men looked cautiously to Thrain who held an expression as still as stone. Slowly, a smile crept in at the edges of his mouth, before he let out a hearty chuckle. “Indeed, Veryyn Fenvellum. I learned of you as a child, and here in my own home, I see you. However, the most interesting tales I’ve heard have come from someone very special to me, and someone that I believe may be very special to you as well.”
From outside, an escort of two men appeared, and behind them, his own Evie walked in, slow and sure. Catching each other’s gaze, the rushed together and embraced. For just a moment, Veryyn thought all was well in this world. His heart had ached for her without end and he felt complete again. Kotia and Perthran smiled, but their expressions were not mirrored in their dwarven hosts. The face of King Thrain had regained it’s stony composition, expressionless. The faces of the guards contorted, like they had bitten into a sour apple. “Pointy, I’ve missed you.” Evie said, her shining eyes misted over. “How did you find me? And you, boy. My Barron!” She released Veryyn and bent slightly to give attention to her four-legged friend. She roughly scratched behind Barron’s head, and in return, he let out a low rattle.
“You two have much to talk about. Gurney, please escort them back to the citadel in Fulmin-Dum. Me and our human allies have much to discuss.” Without another word, Thrain turned about face and walked out of the room. Several guards, as well as Kotia and Perthran followed, with Gurney and two men remaining with the two. “Ok, you two follow me. And please refrain from the touching. Seems a bit inappropriate and we don’t need to cause any more of a disturbance.” Gurney ushered the two out. As they made for the door, Evie pulled Veryyn down to her level, as if to steal a final kiss. As she did, her lips came close to his face and slowly, quietly, as if she still feared they would be heard, she whispered into his willing ear. “Not all is as it seems here. Be very careful.” With those cryptic words, she covered her face in a joyful smile and together, they walked out into the buzzing thoroughfare.
Ricky Hurlich Shorts 