Chapter 12 The City of Tradition #4
Kraghtol couldn’t help but chuckle, especially since Valir seemed completely serious about the topic. “At least that explains why you didn’t notice when it went away. You’re right, though: I shouldn’t stick around until the alchemists return here.”
He let his gaze drift over the complex. It was one of the older parts of the city, and multiple low and deserted mineshafts perforated the area like a worm-infested apple.
“Did you know Virex and Merress invented alchemical metallurgy?”
“Right, I believe you mentioned something like that shortly after throwing up in front of me.”
“I bet this is where they produce the metal for the border wards. There’s a foundry in Winterstone, but it’s much smaller than this. We should have a look inside. Perhaps one of the mineshafts will get us in.”
There was no shortage of tunnels, only of space inside them.
Kraghtol had to pull in his head, and there were sections he even had to go down on all fours to fit through the low and narrow passages.
While most of the city had been designed with human and Elven visitors in mind, these tunnels clearly weren’t.
The rock walls weren’t polished like those of the public areas, which perhaps was the city administration’s way of telling visitors to keep out, aside from the lack of lanterns.
Valir behind him had taken a light, but the dancing shadows in front of him didn’t make navigating any easier.
Kraghtol had never felt claustrophobic in his life, at least until now.
It was easy to imagine rocks coming down in a slide, closing off the tunnels and burying them alive.
He could basically feel the air getting bad and feel a drizzle of dust and small rocks raining down on him.
He felt itchy all over and wasn’t sure if it was real or just imagination.
There was a sound of loose stones shuffling and — hang on.
“Wait! Did you hear that?” he whispered, not daring to speak out loud. They stopped and listened, but there was no sound besides their own breaths.
“Sorry, I’m imagining things.”
He tried to calm his nervous mind and let out his breath as he noticed the larger cavern around the next corner. If he wasn’t entirely mistaken, they should emerge somewhere inside the foundry complex.
In fact, it wasn’t so much inside as behind it, but Kraghtol had no chance to orient himself, as he heard a sharp mechanical clack next to him, followed by an unknown voice.
“Don’t move! I’ve got a crossbow here that will burst you open like a tomato.”
A female dwarf had come out of hiding next to the mineshaft entrance and was indeed pointing a mechanical device with a sharp end at the half-orc.
Kraghtol immediately noticed that the hand holding the contraption was shaking as much as the voice, but he didn’t know if that made it any better. He slowly raised his empty hands and turned towards the dwarf.
“I’m not armed,” he said and saw Valir retreating deeper into the tunnel again. It wasn’t entirely dark here, so he could see who he was up against.
The dwarf lady was young, as far as he could tell.
At least there were no wrinkles on her face, and her hair showed no signs of graying.
Instead, it was a wild mess of a very dark shade of orange-red, like blackened copper or heated iron at the verge of getting malleable.
Her clothes were practical and full of pockets.
She had to look up considerably and was taking in his exotic appearance just as he was scrutinizing her.
Finally, she frowned and steadied her grip on the weapon.
“I know why you’re here. Forget it! Go away! I won’t let you.”
“You do? Sorry, I think there’s a misunderstanding,” he said, noticing that his own voice was calmer than he expected. There were no traces of any unwanted anger or fear.
“No! I’ve heard you… poking around and asking questions!”
Something inside the mechanical weapon in her hand rattled as she swung it around, gesticulating wildly.
Had Kraghtol been a trained fighter, he would have had plenty of opportunity to close the distance between them and take her down. Perhaps that was why his mind was stubbornly refusing to see her as dangerous. Still holding one hand up, he reached into his bag and produced the mechanical sphere.
“This is yours, I assume?” he asked, and when she nodded, he continued, “You could have filled this with worse things than smoke. I don’t believe you wanted to kill me then, or that you do now. Please, let’s talk.”
He held out the hand with the ball like a peace offering, and a few heartbeats later, the dwarf lowered her crossbow. Still, her face was hostile.
“I have nothing to discuss with you. I already told you to go away.”
Kraghtol gestured towards Valir and took a few steps away from the tunnel entrance, keeping a respectful distance from her
“Whatever you think we’re trying to do, we’re not your enemy. I’m Kragh, and this is Valir.”
Her dark eyes darted between the two of them before she focused on the ball in his hand and snatched it away.
“Of course you would say that,” she grouched. “But I’ve heard you asking about Voldrik and the inventors. You’re here to take away all that’s left of them. But I won’t let you!”
She almost shouted the last part.
“No!” Kraghtol realized that he, too, had raised his voice now and tried again. “No. We’re not here to take away anything. We were just looking for him because…”
He couldn’t very well tell her the real reason, that he looked for help in avoiding the wrath of the guilds.
“… we met some of his friends in Winterstone.”
It didn’t sound very convincing in his own ears, but Valir joined the conversation and drew the attention to himself.
“Instead of baseless accusations, how about you show us the courtesy of introducing yourself, too?” He demanded, sounding every bit like an insulted nobleman. “And for your information, we are not some pillagers you seem to confuse us with. My friend here is an alchemist, and I —”
“Valir is a bard.” Kraghtol interrupted him quickly. “And I’m not really an alchemist yet, but a student.”
Valir looked at Kraghtol sourly for a moment, but before he could answer, the dwarf woman exploded again.
“Ha! So, you admit you are with the guilds and want to finish what you started!”
“What? I’m not —” Kraghtol let out his breath, trying very hard to keep a friendly face and a calm voice. She still had a crossbow, although she was not pointing it at them anymore.
“I’m not with the guilds. It’s a long story. Now, could you please tell me what you’re talking about?”
A moment of silence passed before the dwarf sighed.
“Fine. I believe you. At least that you’re clueless.”
She unceremoniously stuffed her weapon into one of her many pockets and began to dismantle the sphere with nimble fingers.
“My name is Dagna. Dagna Emberforge. Voldrik is my uncle, and I’m the last inventor in Bronzebreak.”