Chapter 2- Joining a Moot

Dusk saw the great room nearly filled with dwarves. Daegarun wondered about that since there were many more in the rooms upstairs. He and Orlen sat behind the bar helping Gurzin serve up requests for ale. The incredible stench from the Mountain Red cheese sauce was making Orlen almost useless as a keg tapper. His eyes were swollen and red, he nose ran constantly and he seemed a little unsteady on his feet. On his last effort, he missed the bunghole entirely and hammered the tap straight through the wooden cap on the keg. Gurzin, the only other human, seemed oddly unaffected by the fumes. He grabbed Orlen and pulled him into the inn’s kitchen. Daegarun spent a few hectic minutes as the only server until both returned from the kitchen, Gurzin with his arms wet up to the shoulders and Orlen dripping water from his hair. Gurzin immediately went back to work and Orlen, much improved, sidled up next to Daegarun.

“He shoved my head in the barrel of rainwater then jammed mintweed paste up my nose. My nose burns, but I feel better, and I can see again…”

Daegarun laughed, “I have to admit I don’t see what the big deal is. It doesn’t really bother me at all. Guess it’s one of the benefits of a dwarven constitution.”

Orlen glared at him for a moment. “What the hell is that cheese made from for it to smell so? I can’t even imagine how evil it must taste!”

Daegarun laughed again. “Underground mushrooms ground up and mixed with rockworm milk and spine lizard blood.”

“Spine lizard blood! Isn’t that poisonous?”

“Yep, that’s why they bury the concoction underground for several years. The poison leaches out and leaves the cheese behind. While not exactly a sweet delight, a little bit can go a long way when traveling. Plus, if you eat enough of it, you can go without sleep for many days. Course, you completely collapse afterwards unless you eat more. It’s a bad cycle to get into, though.”

Just then, Marnagan Rockfist came down from his room on the second floor. His chain shirt clinked loudly as he stepped down the stairs. He had only a handaxe on his belt, hung next to his gauntlets. The dwarves in the room raised their mugs of ale in salute, drained them, and then slammed them down on the tables. Both boys groaned knowing they would be spending the next day hammering the copper mugs back into shape.

Marnagan walked up to the front and took a seat at a table set on a small dais. Glevin Anvilmaster sat next to him. Two empty seats remained, further puzzling Daegarun. Until, that is, Verlock Spearbreaker of the Ironskin Clan entered with a second contingent of dwarves.

Daegarun spoke to Orlen under his breath, “Verlock is War Master also. This is quite a meeting indeed. The two clans have been staunch rivals for hundreds of years. According to my father, they have not met openly for over a century. Copper Mountain was always the richer for the copper deposits and extensive lichen farms.”

Verlock moved to the table with Marnagan but remained standing. He pulled a small hammer made of shining silver from his belt and placed it on the table. “The Clan Moot begins. Ironskin Clan declares its recognition of the Copper Mountain Clan as brothers and further declares an end to all blood feuds.” He picked up the silver hammer and banged it twice on the table, deeply denting it in the process.

Marnagan stood. “The Clan Moot begins. The Copper Mountain Clan declares its recognition of the Ironskin Clan as brothers and further declares an end to all blood feuds.” He took the hammer from Verlock, banged it twice on the table and then stuck it into his belt.

As both War Masters sat down, Raningor, High Priest of the Temple of Sharagrim the Maker, walked to the front and stood between the two war masters.

“The Clan Moot begins. Sharagrim accepts the pledges of both clans.” He raised his staff and turned it so it was horizontal in front of him. The ends began to glow. “Each clan brings a claim for the other. Let all know that what is spoken here is free of deception. It is the will of Sharagrim.” Orlen felt a wave of something he could not identify pass through him.

Raningor continued, “Each brings honor to the table. Let honor be served.” He took a seat between the two war masters.

Marnagan stood and struck the table twice again with the silver hammer before setting it in front of him.

“Copper Mountain Clan has discovered a large node of sapphirium. The node is of the first degree purity.” Gasps rose unbidden from the throats of the Ironskin dwarves. “We will entertain offers for assistance in extraction, refining, and fabrication.” Marnagan struck with the hammer twice and passed it to Verlock.

Before Orlen could even ask, Daegarun began explaining. “Sapphirium is a blue crystalline ore that can be melted and forged like iron, though it is considerably more difficult to do. It’s a bit brittle, so you could not make an axe from it, but you can add small amounts of it to the iron in the axe to bind a stronger enchantment to it. Mixing it with copper and iron is when it becomes most useful, creating the greenish metal called Leaf Steel. In that combination it becomes very durable and attuned to the magical energies. Objects made using Leaf Steel can not only amplify or alter magical energies but they are much easier to lay complex enchantments upon. Of course, the manufacture of Leaf Steel is both difficult and dangerous.”

Verlock slammed the hammer down on the table. “Fortuitous news is yours. Less so is mine. The Eye of Nag-Aaranth has been stolen!” The gathered crowd immediately responded almost as one shouting “Embers and ashes!” Dwarves jumped out of their seats and began shouting further curses and smashing anything at hand. The angry mob demanded the blood of the thief!

Verlock slammed the hammer down on the table. “Quiet down now! There is more. The Vergift have risen from the deep and tunneled into our vaults. We are building a force to follow them and recover the Eye. But indications are that the Vergift have come numbering in the thousands. Our Slammer and Basher hosts are on an expeditionary force still exploring the eastern depths and are not due to return for a pair of months. This has left us with too few warriors to punish the Vergift appropriately and recover the Eye. We ask for assistance from the Copper Mountain Clan.”

“I speak for all when I say there is no asking,” Marnagan replied. “The Eye must be recovered and the Vergift must be punished! Nasty, filthy beasts! We should have exterminated them long ago. We shall instill such fear in those that survive that it will be ten thousand years before they poke their flat heads in one of our tunnels again!”

Orlen turned to Daegarun, his expression asking a question. “Vergift are an ancient enemy of the dwarves,” Daegarun replied in a low voice. “They are burrowing creatures somewhat like a cross between a beetle and a jackal, about the size of a large dog. They have a hard shell and four legs like a beetle, with two additional forward extending arms ending in great claws, letting them tunnel with great speed. The head is much like that of a jackal though flatter. The non-chitinous parts are generally covered with dark fur. They have some basic intelligence, a simple language and they do use some tools. They are mostly scavengers, though, and live deep, deep underground. They seldom venturing into dwarf-inhabited tunnels. For them to come up to the dwarven levels means that something has either driven them up or manipulated them into it. They would have no need for the Eye. They have no magic of their own and none but a dwarf can make use of the Eye’s enchantments in any event. If it were truly they who stole the eye, they did so at another’s bidding. All here are aware of that fact.”

The two boys turned their attention back to the moot proceedings. Marnagan was speaking again.

“We have the Axe Host guarding the Sapphirium node. But, we can send the Spear Host and the Sword Host to aid your punishment and recovery forces.”

Verlock looked relieved. “We are most grateful for the loan of the renowned Spear and Sword Hosts. Added to our own Grinder and Crusher Hosts, we should have enough to smash the Vergift horde!” Cheers rose from the dwarven crowd.

Gurzin slapped both Daegarun and Orlen on the shoulder. “Get the ale moving boys! I’ll get the goats off the spit. Keep this crowd happy! With a pronouncement like that, it could turn ugly fast.”

Daegarun’s father came over to the bar. “Best tap another one! This will be a long night. War plans take a long time forming.”

“Father, will you be going to war, or working the Sapphirium?”

“Neither, son. I’m to head south to Alganeer and announce the discovery to the Lords of the Guild of Sages and to the Great Temples. It will be three months before the first batch of Sapphirium is processed well enough for crafting. I’ll be taking advance orders as well as hiring several enchanters from the Guild.”

Agnathor emptied his tankard and set it on the bar. He wrinkled his brow and stared at the two for several seconds, as if in deep thought. “You both are of an age where you should be seeing more of the larger world. I was wondering if the two of you might like to come along.”

Both boys grinned and responded immediately, “Absolutely!”

“Well and good. I’ll be at this moot for another two days. The delegation will leave from the southern ox yard. Join me there at sunrise on the third day. Bring a pack and prepare for three weeks travel.” Agnathor took a mug of ale and left the boys to serving drinks.