Chapter 06 - A Darkening Road
Fiona looked at Tula and Reld solemnly. The trio were seated at the dwarven smith's table, the remnants of lunch between them. Aside from the table, the frame of her bed and a single ironbound chest, the small woman's home was empty; the three friends had spent the morning loading chests and crates full of the dwarf's possessions into the sturdy covered wagon she had parked behind the smithy, now hitched to a pair of stocky dwarven hill ponies.
"So here it is, friends," began the blacksmith. "I've been straight with the two of you so far - I'm a smith, originally from Tach Mandun - but there's a bit more to me than you might think." Fiona paused to sip from the metal tumbler before her before continuing. "Back home, my family are what you might call 'historians'. We try to preserve dwarven lore and learnin' for future generations of dwarves and, where some of that knowledge has been lost, we try to recover it."
"I came to Bal's Post about three years ago," the smith explained, "but I never really intended on settlin' down here as the harbour blacksmith. It was just a role I could fulfill while I tried to chase down a lead I'd been pursuin'. You see, a long time ago, when the elves first came from across the sea to found the old Empire, the dwarven holds fought to resist their invasion. The cities we now call the Free Cities fought too, but they were the first to fall and one by one the dwarven clans were isolated and forced to surrender - all but one."
Tula nodded - but for the last fact about one dwarven hall holding out, the story was a familiar one; the dwarves' fierce resistance, despite their eventual surrender, secured them a semi-autonomous existence within the borders of the empire. They had to pay tribute, but were permitted, within limits, to govern themselves. The deal was somewhat similar to that which had been struck with many of the northern clans - the barbarian, tauric, harpy and greenskin clans were too wide ranging in the northern wilderness and lacked unified leadership to be much more than a minor hindrance to the empire's existence. Thus, most had come to like accords with the Empire's envoys to avoid the carnage of a punitive legionary expedition.
"In the south, though, the human kingdoms - Dirne and Tennebrin - didn't try to resist the Empire," continued Fiona. "They saw what happened in the north and, when the Empire turned south, they struck deals immediately. That was a problem for that lone dwarven stronghold. It wasn't located in the Shield Wall mountains like Tach Keelig, or in the Shrouded Mountains like Mandun, Canneroch or Voluch. No, it was dug into the mountains between the Darksea and the Sand Dance, close to where Longreach is now - that's mostly why it was able to hold out so long."
Fiona paused to take a deep drink from the tumbler of whisky she had before her and continued. "With the two remainin' human kingdoms allying with the Empire, the dwarves took drastic measures - they sealed the gate to their deepfast. But they couldn't simply lock the door and throw away the key; they had taken in refugees from the northern holds, refugees that carried with them numerous artifacts and technologies my people knew could not fall into the hands of the Empire. Knowin' that, should they not survive their self-imposed exile, other dwarves would need a way to get back into the city, they sent an expedition to Tach Mandun with a single key."
"The silver cube," said Tula.
"Yep. But the expedition never reached Mandun. Somewhere along the route it was betrayed or ambushed and the key was lost. A few years ago, a family contact came to my clan and said they knew where this key was - here, in the possession of the Ducal family," Fiona paused and locked eyes with Tula.
"You plan on stealing it," said the orc.
"It's not stealin' if it was yours to begin with," retorted Fiona. "Anyway, my folk sent emissaries and envoys, hoping to buy back the key fair an' square, but the Duke wasn't having any of it. He and his kin know that the cube is a key, they just don't know where the door is. And the dwarves don't plan on tellin' them."
"So how are we going to nick it, then?" said Reld, leaning forward and whispering loudly like a player in a pantomime, as if there could be agents of the duke surrounding the smith's house already. The lad's stomach fluttered with excitement - the idea of a heist, from the duke's castle, no less, was exhilarating.
"Well, that's where you come in," said the dwarf, pushing back her chair and standing up. "I need someone who can pass as a guard."
"Explain," said Tula, watching her small friend walk over to the footlocker she had left near the back door.
Fiona knelt in front of the sturdy chest and unlatched it. "I've not been sittin' on my hands, girlie," said the smith while she rummaged through the container. "I did a bit of scoutin' over the years - found a likely entrance through a sewer that drains into the moat. It doesn't smell like roses, but it'll get us into the cellars. I also managed to acquire this," she added, pulling a tabard with the orange livery of the castle out of the chest. "Hopefully, with a guard escortin' me, I can get to her ladyship's quarters and retrieve the key. I just hope nobody asks too many questions as to why a guard is leading a dwarf through the castle."
"Whores," stated the orc. Fiona ceased her rummaging and turned to look at her friend.
"What now?"
"We can present ourselves as whores - that should explain our presence adequately," explained Tula. "I still have the dress Victoria gave me - do you have anything to use as a disguise?"
"Hmmm," Fiona pondered a moment before delving back into the footlocker. The dwarf's excavation revealed a number of fascinating items; a strange, black breastplate, clearly made to match Fiona's measurements, a black leather harness from which hung a hatchet and a long dagger, both also constructed from the same black material as the breastplate, rope, a grey cloak, a few leather pouches and cases and finally a long, oilcloth bundle.
"What's all this?" said Reld, walking over and kneeling beside his friend. "I've never seen armour like that!"
"Durium," said Tula, joining the pair. "Dwarven steel." The old warrior's voice, usually stoic, carried a note of awe.
"Yep," said Fiona, grinning. "As hard as steel, but half the weight. Depending on how you forge it, comes out black as an abandoned mine. Go on lad, 'ave a look," she added, nudging the cuirass towards the lad.
While Reld picked up the wondrous piece of armour, Tula examined the hatchet and dagger. All three items were fashioned from the same black steel. All three were masterfully crafted and marked with a small sigil of clan Mandun.
