wiping sweat from his forehead and uttering curses. Thumil scanned the scene through narrowed eyes, and beneath him, at the foot of the ramp coming off the platform, upwards of a hundred Ravine Guard were locked in their tightly-packed phalanx. A wall of shields faced the cavern, speartips bristling between the gaps.
Footsteps behind made Carnifex turn back toward the housing at the base of the headframe. A dozen Black Cloaks came through the doorways and headed for the shadows of the cavern’s walls. One of them muttered into a vambrace, either summoning more help, or reporting on the situation to his masters, maybe even to Councilor Grago himself.
Kal and the Red Cloak made it to the phalanx, and the front ranks parted to admit them.
Warily, Carnifex started to cross the cavern floor toward them, heart clamoring at every step, lest the floor should erupt beneath his boots. It didn’t help knowing the creature could be anywhere: in the walls, above the ceiling, under his feet. The ever-shifting eyes of the dwarves in the front rank of the phalanx showed that they felt it, too: the terror of being stalked by a foe that could pick and choose where it struck from, and when.
The shield wall parted for him as he drew near, but he remained where he was. Instead, Thumil, Aristodeus, Rugbeard, and Lucius came down from the platform and worked their way to the front of the phalanx.
Aristodeus’s eyes were glittering and unblinking as they continuously panned the cavern, his slender metal rod following in their wake. Its end was bulbous and tipped with crystal or glass. To all intents and purposes, it looked like a wand from the tales of sorcery beyond the Farfall Mountains.
Thumil clamped a hand on Carnifex’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. He gave a single, curt nod that conveyed a hundred things: he was proud, scared, determined, relieved, and in among it all, he’d be planning, strategizing, making the most of his resources. Is that why the philosopher was here? Had Thumil realized the danger early on and sought every avenue of help?
“It’s a golem from Gehenna,” Aristodeus said. He meant it for Carnifex, though his eyes never strayed from the cavern.
Lucius confirmed it with a tap of the page he had open. “The same section that mentions the Axe of the Dwarf Lords. When the city was founded, hundreds of these creatures attacked our people, and without the axe, we likely wouldn’t be here today.”
“Axe my arse!” Rugbeard said. “There ain’t no axe in the Annals , save for the golden one floating above King Arios’s throne in Arnoch, and everyone knows that’s just a legend.”
“For the last time,” Lucius said, “it’s the same axe. You’re just trying to save face because you hadn’t read the Annals as thoroughly as you like to think. You were just a pedagogue, for shog’s sake, not a scholar. There is a difference.”
“Yes, well, if you could both shut up,” Aristodeus said, “these are issues that can be settled later. If there is a later. Axe or no axe, there’s still a golem to be dealt with.”
“And you know how?” Carnifex asked. “I mean, scarolite can harm it, as well as hem it in, but—”
Thumil wagged a finger at him. “Is there a tool repository?” he asked Rugbeard.
“In the mines.”
Thumil rolled his eyes. “Fine, then I need volunteers to go down there. If we’re going to beat this thing—”
“I’ll go, sir,” a Red Cloak said from atop the platform. He had a shield that was as tall as he was, and in his other hand he carried a monstrous mace.
“Good man, Grimwart,” Thumil said. “Anyone el—?”
A pustule of rock erupted in the middle of the phalanx, scattering dwarves as it sprouted a head and arms, and finally came to stand upon two granite legs.
“ Emet !” Aristodeus cried, bringing his wand to bear on the creature’s forehead, where violet flames defined the symbols: תמא
A beam of brilliant white light shone forth from
Footsteps behind made Carnifex turn back toward the housing at the base of the headframe. A dozen Black Cloaks came through the doorways and headed for the shadows of the cavern’s walls. One of them muttered into a vambrace, either summoning more help, or reporting on the situation to his masters, maybe even to Councilor Grago himself.
Kal and the Red Cloak made it to the phalanx, and the front ranks parted to admit them.
Warily, Carnifex started to cross the cavern floor toward them, heart clamoring at every step, lest the floor should erupt beneath his boots. It didn’t help knowing the creature could be anywhere: in the walls, above the ceiling, under his feet. The ever-shifting eyes of the dwarves in the front rank of the phalanx showed that they felt it, too: the terror of being stalked by a foe that could pick and choose where it struck from, and when.
The shield wall parted for him as he drew near, but he remained where he was. Instead, Thumil, Aristodeus, Rugbeard, and Lucius came down from the platform and worked their way to the front of the phalanx.
Aristodeus’s eyes were glittering and unblinking as they continuously panned the cavern, his slender metal rod following in their wake. Its end was bulbous and tipped with crystal or glass. To all intents and purposes, it looked like a wand from the tales of sorcery beyond the Farfall Mountains.
Thumil clamped a hand on Carnifex’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. He gave a single, curt nod that conveyed a hundred things: he was proud, scared, determined, relieved, and in among it all, he’d be planning, strategizing, making the most of his resources. Is that why the philosopher was here? Had Thumil realized the danger early on and sought every avenue of help?
“It’s a golem from Gehenna,” Aristodeus said. He meant it for Carnifex, though his eyes never strayed from the cavern.
Lucius confirmed it with a tap of the page he had open. “The same section that mentions the Axe of the Dwarf Lords. When the city was founded, hundreds of these creatures attacked our people, and without the axe, we likely wouldn’t be here today.”
“Axe my arse!” Rugbeard said. “There ain’t no axe in the Annals , save for the golden one floating above King Arios’s throne in Arnoch, and everyone knows that’s just a legend.”
“For the last time,” Lucius said, “it’s the same axe. You’re just trying to save face because you hadn’t read the Annals as thoroughly as you like to think. You were just a pedagogue, for shog’s sake, not a scholar. There is a difference.”
“Yes, well, if you could both shut up,” Aristodeus said, “these are issues that can be settled later. If there is a later. Axe or no axe, there’s still a golem to be dealt with.”
“And you know how?” Carnifex asked. “I mean, scarolite can harm it, as well as hem it in, but—”
Thumil wagged a finger at him. “Is there a tool repository?” he asked Rugbeard.
“In the mines.”
Thumil rolled his eyes. “Fine, then I need volunteers to go down there. If we’re going to beat this thing—”
“I’ll go, sir,” a Red Cloak said from atop the platform. He had a shield that was as tall as he was, and in his other hand he carried a monstrous mace.
“Good man, Grimwart,” Thumil said. “Anyone el—?”
A pustule of rock erupted in the middle of the phalanx, scattering dwarves as it sprouted a head and arms, and finally came to stand upon two granite legs.
“ Emet !” Aristodeus cried, bringing his wand to bear on the creature’s forehead, where violet flames defined the symbols: תמא
A beam of brilliant white light shone forth from
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