Chapter 7
Harald returned without difficulty to Sam’s chamber. Exeros’ mote followed him silently. Harald glanced back at it once or twice, but the seraph clearly did not feel compelled to discuss their bond further.
Suited Harald just fine.
With the seraph in tow, Harald pushed open both golden double doors and entered the airy central chamber that Sam had claimed. The verdant canopy tinted the pale air green, and the gray marble that formed every surface was cool and elegant to the eyes.
Kársek was seated upon the settee, rune hammer laid across his lap, his powerful hands resting atop the haft.
In that moment the dwarf suddenly looked his age: young, with a honey-colored beard twisted into a short central chin-braid, his hair tousled, his skin burnished.
His ragged yellow coat was the worse for wear and revealed the glints of mithril chain beneath it.
Damn. But it was so easy to forget how Kársek was considered a youth by his own people.
The dwarf opened deep, piercing green eyes that were flecked with gold and considered Harald for a moment before inclining his head and smiling. “You live.”
“Did you doubt I would?” Harald moved forward to join him.
“I am outside my depths on this level.” Kársek sounded calm as ever, but Harald could read the tension hidden between the words.
“Lord Alabenthos has been a gracious host, but he has tried the very limits of my patience. Had you not returned soon, I would have begun the no doubt unwelcome process of finding you.”
Harald sat. “What were you told?”
Kársek eyed Exeros’ mote curiously. “That you were consolidating your many powers and being evaluated once more by Brauxis. This came from Rovarik, Nessa’s instructor. I believed him but guessed that there was more than he was telling.”
Harald sighed and passed his hand over his face.
“Much more. I’m Level 9 now. I’ve consolidated all my powers into four main ones.
They’re…” Harald leaned back onto the white cushions and tried to find the right words.
“They’re impressive. Simpler to use. More intuitive, I guess. But very draining.”
Kársek raised a bushy blond brow. “And?”
“I spooked Brauxis. Guess I was becoming too powerful, too quickly?” Harald managed a crooked smile.
“He locked me up, and when I forced my way out, I was guided to an audience with Alabenthos. Who decided to let me live and serve him as long as I accepted the oversight of that guy.” And he gestured at the mote.
Kársek frowned. “That light is a person?”
“Exeros. A big deal, apparently. Or was.” Harald gazed at the lightly bobbing light and wondered if the disdainful child within could hear him.
No doubt he could. “He had titles like the Scourge of the Abyss, Shield of Creation, the Bright Ruin, but now he’s known as the Shattered Seraph.
Alabenthos forced me to accept a Soul Bond with him, so that he can always know where I am.
If he judges me falling into the darkness and moving into Vorakhar’s service, he’ll kill me. ”
Kársek’s frown was deep and severe. “I…”
“You what, old friend?” Harald eyed him. “You’ll stop him from killing me so you can slay me first?”
Kársek went to protest but then fell silent.
“I may be your thark?n, but I know that you’ll never follow me if I risk becoming a gathul like Vorakhar.
Or his plaything. Which… is why I agreed to this whole charade.
Alabenthos fears my becoming a terrible weapon of the enemy.
But I know you and Sam would stop me way before I could bend knee to the demons. ”
Kársek nodded with grim reluctance. “That is true. I will follow you anywhere, into any depth, hell, or perdition, for as long as you retain your honor. But should you one day lose yourself entirely to your nightself, then my debt shall transfer to the memory of the man you once were and, in his name, I shall slay the monster you shall have become.”
“Yeah.” Harald sighed and leaned his head back, eyes closing. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, my friend. Which renders this Exeros’ presence redundant. Which he’s probably thrilled to hear. But whatever. He can tag along if it causes Alabenthos to trust me.”
“Hmm.” Kársek considered the rune hammer in his lap. “Very well. If this Shattered Seraph is an angel, then no doubt he shall behave with honor.”
“What of you?” Harald cracked an eye open. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my path and power growth that I’ve not checked in with you in forever. How goes the meditation?”
“It goes well.” Kársek allowed himself the quietest of smiles.
“The deeper we delve, the more the Earthblood… changes. Closer to the surface, it was potent, but… thin. Like overly watered soup. Still nourishing in sufficient quantities, but only now, as we delve deeper, do I realize how wondrous Earthblood can be.”
Harald sat up. “Yeah?”
“The Earthblood here, it is thicker, yes, but more importantly—perhaps strangely—its nature as the essence of the deeps is growing more obvious. At times, I get flashes of vast caverns that I’ve never seen.
” Kársek stroked the rune hammer pensively.
“I hear the din of mighty hammers at work on countless forges or sense the weight of rock above my head like a fish might intuit the dark oceans around it. As if I were tapping into ancestral memories, the weight of ages compressed into liquid power.” He pursed his lips, deep in thought.
“The Earthblood here feels older. Heavier. Different. And it affects my understanding of my Class in turn. What it means to be a DreadRune. An agent of destruction.”
Harald nodded slowly, feeling again that tingling sense of awe that overtook him whenever he caught a glimpse of the alien strangeness of Kársek’s reality, his power, his might.
“But more than that…” Kársek glanced up. “You remember how I am a Tinker Dwarf?”
“Sure.”
“I’m descended from those who were exiled from Dumr?n.
I was born in Marheim. I’ve never seen the ancestral deeps.
But now… now it feels as if those very deeps, the roots of Dumr?n…
they’re seeing me. Remembering me. Not welcoming.
The deeps don’t care about my origins. But recognizing me as a dwarf, as stone-kin. And…”
Again, Kársek trailed off, to study his rune hammer as he passed his fingers over its carved head.
“That’s got to be… disconcerting,” hazarded Harald.
“Yes. It is. But only because it feels so… right. Tinker Dwarves by definition… we roam. We are homeless. But this Earthblood. It feels like returning to my Hall fathers. And with that sense comes deeper understanding of Khazadrok. The Rune of Destruction. It feels more… intuitive now. More malleable. Where before it was a graven image, proud, terrible, untouchable, I now understand it to be a concept. One that I can warp and refine.”
Harald studied his friend’s frowning visage. “You don’t sound pleased?”
Kársek looked up to meet his gaze. “What we do down here we do for honor, out of obligation, because it must be done, because it is right. But. I was an Earth Mover, once. I preferred gardening. Now I must destroy. So no, Harald. I am not… pleased.”
And what was worse, where anyone else might have been angry, or resentful, Kársek sounded nothing so much as… sad. Melancholy.
“I’m sorry,” said Harald at last. “That our journey has taken you here. To these powers. These obligations.”
Kársek sighed and the rune hammer faded away. “Don’t be sorry. Were it not for you, I’d be dead on the 4th Level. You saved my life, and now I shall find the means to save yours.” And at this, the young dwarf managed a smile. “Simple.”
“Simple,” agreed Harald, and laughed.
Footsteps. Sam appeared between the golden doors, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Harald. “You’re back!”
And she rushed to him as he rose to his feet to embrace him tightly.
“I—whoa! Yes. I’m back. Were you—”
Sam held him tightly. “Seraphina told me what was at stake. Which means…” She pulled away to stare at Exeros’ mote. “It’s happened.”
“You mean Exeros?” Harald reluctantly allowed their arms to disengage. “You knew about him?”
“Only today. Once you frightened Brauxis. Seraphina… well.” She tore her eyes away from the ivory light to study him.
“She’s not your biggest advocate. And when she heard, or sensed, or however she learned from Brauxis about how scary you’d become, she…
” Sam tucked a golden lock behind one ear.
“She explained what was going to happen.”
“I see.”
Sam flushed. “I didn’t agree, obviously. But what choice did I have? Seraphina explained I couldn’t get close even if I tried.”
A cold part of Harald wanted to press her to ask: but did you try?
He resisted. Well could he imagine how helpless she’d have felt, and how there was absolutely nothing she could do if Alabenthos barred her way.
Sam studied him, expression intent, and reached for his hands.
“Harald. Please understand. We’re in a good place here.
These are the angels. They suspect you because of the Seed you carry, but we have to trust—we must believe that they’ll make the right decisions.
That they know what’s best. They’re not just some faction in Flutic, some noble house we’re aligning with.
They’re the Fallen Angel’s defenders. They’re…
they’re holy.” Her gaze had taken on a beseeching look.
“Do you see? So when I heard Alabenthos was evaluating you again… I, on some fundamental level, just trusted that everything would turn out for the best. And it has.”
“I see.” Harald squeezed her hands so as to not upset her before he stepped away.
Stared out at nothing for a beat, trying to reconcile her faith with his own cynical skepticism, and then sighed.
“Well, you’re right. Here we are. Alabenthos trusts me, insofar as the moment he has cause not to, I’ll be incinerated by Sir Shattered Seraph over there. ”
Sam nodded unhappily. “If that’s what it takes. I don’t like it either—the necessity of it—but I understand it.”