BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 030 -

“What in a trolls arse are you lot doing in the tunnel?!” a dwarf shouted at them.

Einar turned toward a massive dwarf, a scowl that could scare children or curdle milk that was stomping in their direction.

“Oh shite, that’s Vrádni Deepdelver,” Bartia whispered. “He’s the tunnel ranger and–”

“You four! Why did you take the tunnel!?” Vrádni continued to roar. “Don’t tell me Mosswalker approved this or I’m… I’m going to send him a nasty note!”

Skardi chuckled, and a few of the other Vikings behind him did the same.

When the dwarf who looked ready to smash them all drew close, Einar was surprised to find the one Bartia had called a ranger was probably nine feet tall and built like Skardi, except he had a black beard that hung to his waist.

“Forgive me, Master Ranger,” Bartia said. “We were ordered by Gromm to bring these Vikings to the capital and to escort a wagon of items he said you all would need.”

A loud humph came from the dwarf, his mustache fluttering under the pressure of the air he had let out.

“Vikings… you must be the one in charge,” the dwaven ranger huffed. “Standing here like you got a set hanging between your legs and looking at me like that.”

“That would be me. Einar Sibbinson,” Bartia said. “Behind me are my warriors, and we have come to lend aid to the dwarves, fulfilling the promise we made long ago.”

A massive glob of snot and spit landed next to Einar’s boot as the dwarf kept his scowl. “That’s what I think of your promise. None came, you don’t trade and more dwarves than I would like to talk about have died because your kind has been cowards.”

He could sense the shifting of his warriors behind him, and Einar also saw the gathering group of dwarves behind Vrádni, many of them cracking knuckles and looking ready for anything that might come.

“Would you be held responsible for another one of your brothers or sisters not keeping their promise, or would you do what you could to do your part?” Einar asked. “Even if my own kind will not answer the call, behind me are forty Vikings who have bled and died to slay three giants and countless beasts in the tunnel to get here. Not long ago, I slew a Troll King so we could make it through to you.”

More spit and flem landed on the stone floor from the others behind the ranger.

As Vrádni prepared to create a new luigi, Bartia stepped forward, holding out a hand.

“What he says is true,” Bartia said. “I have a letter about the giants from Master Gromm and will pledge that I was there for the slaying of those giants.  I can attest they have bled and died, even saving us when stone trolls assaulted us.  Over thirty of those foul things have died by their weapons, and they sacrificed more than just their lives to ensure my brothers and sister made it here.”

Vrádni’s throat cleared, mouth slightly open. It appeared he had a growing wad of nastiness in his mouth. His black eyes darted at the dwarf who had just defended Einar and his warriors, and the other three dwarves nodded as well.

A grunt came from the ranger who swallowed the lugi in his mouth, scowl fading slightly, but still frowning. “So, Einar Sibbinson. Tell me, what do you and your Vikings hope to accomplish? You’ve reached the outer edges of Kvellholl. Surely you cannot expect High-King Vetrdur Kvellhammar to grant you an audience.”

Einar took a step closer, not flinching as he had to crane his neck back some to look up at the dwarf’s face. “Why is it every realm I visit, there is some dick that wants to stand between us and what must be done?”

“I’m a dick, am I?” Vrádni growled.

Dwarves shifted closer as Vrádni stepped forward, both men now almost touching chest to chest.

“I’ll make the same offer I’ve made every other dwarf who didn’t believe the gods have sent us,” Einar said. “Ask Bartia. I’ve cut her weapon and destroyed it. Even Orin Mudfoot felt he was better than us, and I had to destroy a weapon he considered one of his best creations. If I need to prove to you that I’m serious, I’ll do the same to you. Except this time I might trim a few inches off your beard.”

Gasps came from the dwarven guards, and Einar felt the ranger pushing against him slightly. “Is that so… Orin Mudfoot… he is a cocky arse and if what you say is true…”

Einar watched as the dwarf glanced at Bartia, not taking his eyes off the massive ranger. 

A grin broke out over Vrádni’s lips, and he started to laugh. Einar had to assume that she had nodded, confirming the words he had spoken. The dwarf backed up a step and glanced over his shoulder.

Every guard that Einar could see relaxed and a few started to leave the collection of men and dwarves. 

“I shall take you to the castle,” Vrádni said, “but you’ll have to endure some conversations and drinks with me, Einar Sibbinson. Any man who can humble that one deserves a chance to plead their case before our King.”

Vrádni whistled, snapping his fingers at the trio of dwarves who had come with them from Mighahm. “You lot, get that cart to the quartermaster. Make sure Streni knows Mosswalker sent that. And no matter what he says, ensure every item is logged before you take that report and turn it in to Grundi.”

The trio didn’t hesitate, motioning for the drivers to follow them as they moved toward the tunnel, which was brightly lit by torches and lanterns.

“Now then… forty Vikings, and I’m assuming another ten or twenty workers?” the ranger asked.

“Correct,” Einar replied.

Clearing his throat, Vrádni nodded. “Follow me, I’ll lead you to a place you and your people can call home for a few days.”

Nodding, Einar motioned to his three pack leaders and to his temporary second in command. “Get everyone moving. We’ll deal with the other part later.”

“Other part?” Vrádni asked.

“We lost some Vikings as we drew near,” Einar replied. “About forty or maybe fifty stone trolls attacked us, and we had to run for the door. Even worse was the presence of the Troll King. The trolls in that tunnel, I would guess, have already eaten my warriors who gave everything to ensure we made it here.”

Vrádni’s face softened slightly, and he nodded slowly. “Then we shall make sure you and yours can do that first. After that, I will come and bring a few other dwarves. Now then, the letters?”

Bartia moved forward, pulled a small bundle that was tied together from her pouch on her hip, and held them out.

“Good, let’s go.” Vrádni said.

***

Stepping out of the tunnel was a moment that took Einar’s breath away.

The capital was a gigantic mountain, miles away, but even from this distance, he could see the shape.

“Is that really an anvil?” Avitue asked. “I mean… I know it is, but–”

“Thousands of years,” Vrádni said as he moved beside the five Vikings. “Each section of the capital has been cut from the very stone that made up that mountain. Since the day dwarves woke up, we have cut and dug in that place, creating many wondrous sections.”

Einar tried to watch the dwarf as he spoke, hearing the pride in his voice, but the image before him was difficult to stop looking at.

“Those two outer rings are all crafted from stone cut from the mountain. The third you cannot see is one solid piece, a protective barrier that was left as the rest was cut away to make space for the city.”

“Your capital is wondrous,” Jepi said. “How many dwarves live there?”

A sigh escaped the ranger, never slowing down as he remained silent for a few seconds.

“Not as many as had been a decade or more ago,” Vrádni said. “Still, I am not sure. Many dwarves have not come up from the mountain in a thousand years.  Some are miners, some are crafters, and others are just plain crazy.  There is a beauty that lies deep within the mountain. A place of…”

Everyone waited to hear what the ranger would say, his words catching in his throat. It took a few coughs before he could speak again.

“The tree… deep within the mountain, is a cavern and a tree, said to be from the root of the tree that grows there. A small stream of water so pure and sweet flows.  A special guard watches over that room, allowing only so many in at a time. None are allowed to drink of the water as it reaches the tree and never returns.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to cause you any pain,” Jepi said.

“No need to ask for forgiveness,” Vrádni replied. “You did not know, and part of being a warrior is death. All who live must die. Those like you and I must be willing to face what others cannot.”

“Tell me, Vrádni. How deep is this tree?” Avitue asked.

“For one of my people? A three-day journey without rest. To be granted access, one must make the trip in that manner. It is a testament to the willpower of the one who seeks peace. Before you ask, I do not believe our King would allow you to enter this place. Only dwarves have ever set foot in there since the time it was discovered.”

“I understand,” she replied. “Thank you for letting me know.”

***

“I’m sorry, Einar. I–” Thorodd began.

“Do not apologize, Thorodd,” Einar said. “Each of us knows death may come at any moment. Items can be replaced.”

His second in command nodded, frowning as he pulled the cloth shirt on. “How did you make it out alive?”

“We ran,” Einar admitted. “Each took turns helping push the carts so the horses wouldn’t break under the strain. Thankfully, the path is smooth and without holes, or I am certain we would have broken a wheel.  Even still, we lost one horse after reaching the wall. It gave all it had to ensure we arrived.”

“The true Viking spirit,” Thorodd said. “So now what? I see we’re in a stone building. Does this mean we have reached Kvellholl?”

“Yes,” Einar replied. “Skardi has been filling in for you. Prepare him. He’s ready.”

His second-in-command snorted and smiled. “Really? So soon?”

“Skardi’s not the same fool who tried to kill me out of spite or rage. The others listened to him, and he led with purpose. Part of me saw his father in how Skardi carried out those tasks. It is time for him to no longer be in the shadow of Unnulf.”

“Very well, I shall train him. And what else?” Thorodd asked.

“Bartia is out doing as I have asked. We must trade and acquire other items. I am also waiting for one called Vrádni to return so that I might talk with him and the other dwarves who seek us.  Tomorrow we shall entertain a few dwarves, and we need to ensure they feel honored.”

“So the good stuff,” Thorodd said. “What about our list?”

“I have others on it. For now, focus on recovering. Thorve has been in a mood with you being gone for so long.”

Both Vikings laughed as they separated ways.

“My love,” Einar said, after walking to where Avitue had been waiting.

“Bah, the way you two act sometimes, I wonder,” she teased. “Still, I am glad to know he is not crying like some do.”

“He’s not that kind of warrior. While I hold no ill will towards those who do, understanding the pain of death, but the loss of a rune or a slot is a terrible thing to endure. Now, tell me, are your warriors ready?”

“At a moment's call. Tell me, though, husband. Is this path really the best choice?”

Einar nodded, unable to shake the feeling that this was the path they had to walk.

“Yes. Tomorrow, after I talk with Vrádni and whoever else comes, we need to send out some scouts. The rumor that there are giants within these mountain passes that make what we faced look like a pup compared to a wolf must be verified, and we must be willing to face one.”

“And your dream?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Einar replied. “We came here for a reason. This is it. Somewhere out there is a giant that we must kill. It’s like I’m being pulled somewhere and I know that I can’t run from it.”

“You’ve never been one to run away from anything but me,” Aviute said, winking.

“No… I was simply setting a trap to capture your heart, and it appears it worked.”

“Or perhaps I’m the animal that pretends to be caught, only to devour you when you don’t expect it.”

“Well, just make sure I enjoy it when you do,” Einar replied, grinning.