Storm God, chapter four

The Smith of the Gods

Apr 03, 2024

Introduction and table of contents
Chapter three
“…and so they set forth from Herazeem in secret with a hand-picked mortal crew. For weeks they sailed north by northeast, until at last they came to the frozen land of Dwellindim at the very edge of the world…” - The Elder Zorath, The Book of the First Time.

“What about here?” Ariana asked, pressing onto the bandaged section of Vorn’s midrib.

Pain blossomed beneath her touch. Vorn winced, leaning back against the wall of the cramped cabin. “Better than yesterday,” he grunted.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not a very good liar, Vorn.”

“Fine. It’s much the same as yesterday.”

She nodded and made a subtle gesture. Ama scribbled something onto the roll of parchment in her hands.

“That’s good right?”

“I’ve increased your dose of redsalts twice in the last week. I was hoping to see more of an improvement.”

“At least I’m not getting any worse.”

The redsalts are dangerous at such a high dosage.” She sighed. “I might be killing you just as fast as Tarneb’s venom was.”

“Either way I die. This way I might be able to stay strong enough to see Tarneb defeated. No matter what happens I’m in your debt.”

A deep horn sounded from above, reverberating through the wooden walls

Vorn looked at the ceiling. “They must’ve sighted Sorholm.”

“Be careful, Vorn.”

“Torvar is an old friend. I’ll be fine.”

“That may be, but you know how prickly he is. Both your axe and Aros’ chariot were artifacts he was very proud of. He won’t be happy with you.”

Vorn nodded and stood. He was stiff and his side throbbed with every movement, but at least he could stand by himself now.

“Can I have another vial of harrwoods smoke?”

Ariana hesitated. “What happened to the last one I gave you?”

“I… used it all.”

Ariana shook her head as she retrieved a smoke filled vial from her robe, and passed it to him. “I warned you against using too much. It’s not safe. It could–”

“Burn out my lungs, I know.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know, thank you,” Vorn said, stepping out of the cabin. He paused before the ladder up to the deck, stifling a cough, then climbed into the cold grey air above.

As always, Zera worked the steerboard, shouting orders to her scrambling crew. Thalsi stood at the prow, while several Lowlander humans, clad in chainmail and bearing steel tipped spears, patrolled the deck.

Below, the icy land of Dwellindim stretched out grey and grim: an endless expanse of snow-capped mountains and bleak, rocky lowlands. Far to the northeast rose Sorholm, a mountain to dwarf the rest, free of snow and with a blackened, smoking top.

A favourable wind carried them quickly into Sorholm’s shadow. The smell of ash and sulphur was heavy in the air when they began their long descent, circling around Sorholm and eventually passing it, out over the very edge of the world. Here the mountains of Dwellindim fell away into sheer cliffs, dropping off into an endless sea of star speckled void.

The Skithiar looped around, back towards Sorholm, to where a long stone quay was carved, jutting out from the cliff face over the emptiness. Long ago Torvar had ordained that if any of the Herazor wished to seek him out they must dock here and enter into Sorholm only through the triple arched gate at its end.

The day was waning by the time they docked. As Vorn, Thalsi, and Zera prepared to disembark, three Lowlander humans tentatively approached.

“Stormtamer,” one said, bowing. “If it is not too bold, my brothers and I would be honoured to accompany and protect you.”

Vorn shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, er…” he fumbled for a name. Korlok? Hayb? In truth, he couldn’t really tell the humans apart. They all looked much the same.

“Kaberim,” Zera whispered from behind him.

“I appreciate the offer, Kaberim,” Vorn said. “But the inside of Sorholm is no place for a human.”

“We’re not afraid, Stormtamer. We would gladly give our lives for you.” Fervour burned in Kaberim’s eyes, but his brothers didn’t look so sure.

“I’m sure you would. But the heat in there alone is enough to kill any mortal in minutes. Besides, Torvar poses no danger to us. Stay here, and watch over the ship. We will return before long.”

“Yes, Stormtamer,” Kaberim said, disappointment clear on his face. His brothers looked relieved.

As they made their way down the quay, the portcullis of darksteel inset into the triple arched gate at its end slowly rose. With every step, the heat radiating from the gate intensified. Sweat prickled Vorn’s skin and thick, ashy air clawed at his throat and nose.

He wavered, coughing. Thalsi stepped towards him, offering support. He shook his head, retrieving the vial of harrswood smoke from his belt. He popped off the cap, took a whiff, and quickly closed it before losing any of the precious smoke. The hot smoke filled him, soothing and invigorating. Then they stepped through the gate into the dull orange glow beyond.

A Dwellisian golem met them in the cavernous, vaulted tunnel within. It was nearly as tall as Vorn, broad and made of rock, with no head but a wide, flat face carved into its chest.

“I come to treat with your master, so that gifts can be exchanged and bonds of friendship strengthened,” Vorn said ritualistically.

“Long has it been since the Sky Gods have sought the master,” the golem said in a voice of grinding stone. “Yet your coming is expected and the master bids you welcome.” The golem turned and started down the tunnel, setting a painfully slow pace. Even though Vorn and his sisters knew the way, as was custom, they trailed patiently behind it.

The tunnel was perfectly straight, sloping gradually upwards, with walls and a floor of hewn stone, unadorned but precisely constructed. Here and there, narrower passages of unworked rock branched off the main one. Some were dark, others lit with the subtle glimmer of gold reflecting firelight. They never turned, always their guide led them towards the distant, echoing sounds of hammer ringing against anvil, until finally they emerged into a great cavern.

In its midst was a bubbling pool of glowing magma, being fed by a flowing waterfall of molten rock cascading from a crack in the ceiling. Built over it, on a wide platform of iron, was Torvar’s forge. Torvar himself stood beside it, working glowing steel with his rune-etched hammer. He was well over ten metres tall, and almost as broad, with pale, leathery skin. Each of his six arms were corded with muscle and in each hand he held a different tool with which to ply his endless craft.

Carved out hollows pocked the cavern's walls. Many were stacked with ingots of iron and tin, or silver and gold. A few were filled with piles of sparkling precious stones or hunks of strange humming star metal. A team of golems worked tirelessly, bringing armfuls of these materials to Torvar’s forge. Another team carried off a stream of freshly made treasures and trinkets out through a darkened passage at the cavern’s far end.

Vorn and his sisters entered. Torvar didn't look up from his work.

“Hail, Torvar,” Vorn said. “I bring you gifts for–”

“For a new axe,” Torvar grunted in a low, hoarse voice, still not looking up from his work. “You’re so careless that you disrespect and destroy the work of my hands, and now you show up here demanding replacements.”

“I would make no demands of you, Torvar, I only wish to trade in good faith as our peoples have always done.”

“And what would you trade?”

“We’ve brought a preserved seed from the Great Tree. It awaits in the hold of Zera’s skyship.”

“Hmph. Is my work of so little value to you?”

“Your work is beyond compare. The destruction of my axe was a tragedy, but–”

“You destroyed the chariot I made for Aros as well. That was one of a kind you know. It’s like is never to be seen in this world again.”

“And for that I’m truly regretful. But it was a sacrifice I made in my fight against Tarneb. There was no other way.”

“And why should I care about your fight against Tarneb?”

“Tarneb’s rise threatens us all. He threatens the very existence of this world.”

“Only because you Sky Gods killed his sister. Now there’s nothing to keep him in check. Before you lot arrived they did a pretty good job of stewarding the Middle World, maintaining the Great Order and all that. Not that you Sky Gods care about such things. If you’re so worried about Tarneb, why don’t you just go back to Heraz?”

“I have never seen Heraz. Me and my siblings were born on the Middle World long after the Coming of the Herazor and the Slaying of Nira. It is our home just as it is yours. Maybe you’re right about their stewardship, and maybe you’re right that it is because of the sins of my father that we’re in danger now. But as things stand, Tarneb poses just as much a threat to you as he does to us.”

Torvar didn’t answer for a moment, but the ringing of his hammer grew louder. “Thalsi,” he said at last. “You’re still following this lout around?”

Thalsi shuffled uneasily.

“I’ve never seen why you devote so much to him,” Torvar continued, looking up as he spoke but continuing to work: quenching the blade on which he’d been working while simultaneously pulling another molten rod from the forge to lay on his anvil. “You should be a queen, decked out in gold and jewels, yet you content yourself to wallow in your brother’s shadow.”

“Thalsi doesn’t–”

“Was I talking to you, boy?” Torvar growled, his voice shaking the cavern. The pool of magma bubbled and roiled.

Vorn glanced to the side, searching for aid from Zera’s quick tongue, but his sister was nowhere to be seen.

“Thalsi,” Torvar continued. “You don’t need to stay with him. Stay here with me and I will bedeck you with such treasures as you couldn’t possibly imagine. Your beauty shall shine forth, unmatched in all the Middle World, neigh, in all the Twelve Worlds.” His voice wavered, and he laid down his tools, stepping around the anvil towards them. “Be my queen and you will know a love like no other. Please.”

Thalsi’s face went tight. She took a step back, her hand drifting to the handle of the long knife in her belt.

“She’s not interested, Torvar,” Vorn said.

Torvar sighed, then spoke to Vorn in a flat voice. “Fine. If you’re your sister's keeper, I will ask you instead. You want an axe? Give me your sister’s hand and I will make you a weapon mighty enough to slay Tarneb.”

“Thalsi is not mine to give. She stays or goes of her own free will.”

Torvars eyes flicked between them. He turned back to his work and the ringing of hammer on anvil resumed. “Go then. You will get nothing from me.”

“But I need–”

“You need nothing! And nothing is what you shall receive.”

“I–”

“According to the ancient pact between Herazeem and Sorholm any trade between our peoples is strictly on my terms. We have nothing to offer each other. Now go, before I force you out and keep your sister.”

Would Torvar do such a thing? There was a time when such action would have meant war with the Herazor. A war which none in the Middle World would have dared. But now Vorn wasn’t so sure.

“Very well,” he said with a sinking heart.

He and Thalsi turned and started for the door. A golem emerged from the floor beside Torvar and spoke to him in a low, rumbling voice. The ringing of Torvar’s hammer fell silent.

As they stepped into the tunnel another golem emerged from the wall in front of them, blocking their passage.

“What is this?” Vorn asked.

“Where is your other sister?” Torvar asked.

Thalsi tensed, drawing her knife.

“How should I know?” Vorn answered, turning to face him.

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to?”

“We’re leaving as you commanded.”

“Don’t play stupid, Vorn! You two are here to distract me while Zera helps herself to my armoury.”

The teams of golems stopped working to watch them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re not thieves. As much as I wish to wield a weapon of your making, I would not stoop so low as that.”

Thalsi nodded.

“You think I’m a fool don’t you? Thalsi, you may have beguiled me with your charm for a moment, but I see clearly now. You cannot deceive me with your lies.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Torvar, and I’d never steal from you. My honour means more to me than that.”

“Your honour means nothing, son of Miraz.” Torvar began lumbering towards them, shaking the mountain with every step. Vorn and Thalsi shuffled backwards into the golem. It grabbed their shoulders.

“You cannot leave,” Torvar bellowed. “By the ancient pact between our peoples your lives are forfeit to me.”