Astral Threads, Ch 31: Caverns of Runekeld (Patreon)

The tunnel into Runekeld was a hundred feet wide as it descended into the earth, slowly twisting downward. About half a mile along, it met a small cavern with shops and warehouses, as well as several barracks, which was something like a trading area and guard post, and then the route continued for another two miles past that before it reached the dwarves’ home cavern.

As they reached the edge of Runekeld, the dwarven councilors bowed to Sam and took their leave with their escort as they went to consider the news that he had brought. They tried to give him a guide for the city and an escort to the diplomatic mansion where he could stay until a home was built for him, but Krana insisted on taking over, claiming that she could do it better.

Esana and the other dwarves promised they would meet with the rest of the council and have an answer for him soon about the aid that they could offer. When they left, Krana was in a good mood and that gave Sam the confidence that things would move along quickly.

The delay gave the bellisagi a chance to send another team, but when he saw the guards and enchantments that were obvious even at the edge of the city, his concern decreased. Most of the dwarves here were in the First Evolution, which was apparently standard for their adults, and those at the Second Evolution were common in higher positions.

He hadn’t seen many Third Evolutions yet, but he could feel their auras throughout the city. They tasted of stone and fire, gems and metal, as well as other concepts related to their professions.

The most the bellisagi could manage would be a suicide strike and that was unlikely. He could also feel the teleportation wards woven around the cavern, which meant they wouldn’t be able to sneak in. If they tried anything here, it wouldn’t end well for them.

The golems had followed him in and Ayala and Krana were standing by his side as he looked out along the vast, sprawling cavern that made up Runekeld. The sound of ringing hammers and deep, rolling voices called to him, echoing like a distant pulse in his ears. The time the council needed for their deliberations gave him an opportunity to do something he’d wanted very much to do when he was younger—explore a dwarven city at its height.

Runekeld was a linked series of tunnels that sprawled out from a vast central cavern. Smaller caverns opened along the branches, some of them very large where a clan branch or a particular crafting guild might have its home, but the central cavern was grander by far. It was nearly two miles long and half that wide, and from one end to the other, its walls were carved with scenes of forests and mountains.

The ceiling was a low vault that was carved with clouds and flying beasts, from songbirds to a great dragon, and straight above, there was a massive crystal enchantment that replicated a sun. It shone with an intense red-golden light that brought out highlights in gems and metals and it gave the entire city the sense that a warm fire was burning nearby.

Like all of their race, the dwarves didn’t need the light to see in the caverns. They could have lived as easily in the dark. Instead, the sun was a symbol of their home and their craft, almost as if they were challenging the land above.

“Dwarves don’t hate the sun or the world above ground,” Krana explained as they headed toward the diplomatic quarters. “We just think it could be improved. That’s what my ancestors have done with Runekeld. They tried to create a world that was better than anything they could find elsewhere.”

The sun and the engravings of the world weren’t the only things that the dwarves had brought to life. A bright river ran through the center of the cavern that brought water and fresh air to the city. It was crossed by many bridges that connected districts and created meeting places where taverns and shops sprang up. The ring of hammers and metal echoed across its banks, along with the smell of a thousand things roasting in kitchens and, below that, the bubbling smell of roasted malt for ale.

Much of the cavern had been carved out of the earth and hills of stone and giant boulders had been left scattered throughout the city as decoration. Waterfalls soared from the tops of some or curled around their edges, while others had been turned into performance stands for dwarven minstrels, decorations for homes, centerpieces of an intersection in the roads, and more.

Trees and bushes that flourished in the light of the enchanted sun grew in many places, making the air bright. along with mushrooms of various colors, including some that glowed with a pale blue light and were as large as the trees. Most homes had an assortment as decorations.

It didn’t take Krana long to lead him to the guest house that he was temporarily assigned. It was near the center of the main cavern and overlooked the river. She assured him it was one of the best accommodations available. The building was a two-story stone mansion with broad doors and ceilings that were twenty feet high. It seemed he wasn’t the only tall race they’d ever hosted, and the dwarves liked to show off their skills. Decorated arches and engraved pillars held up the ceiling, while carvings of mountains and rivers covered the walls.

It had a large courtyard of carefully-laid cobblestones that was bordered by a row of mushroom trees and herbs, as well as one side that had more familiar trees from the surface. A boulder cut to resemble a gem and engraved with the Honored Guest sigil was prominent in the yard, next to a small and sparkling stream that swept across the yard and then tumbled down to the river a dozen feet below.

It was a peaceful place, and it felt like the dwarves had really brought the world into their cavern. He could see why they were so attached to their home. Most interesting of all were the enchantments they had carved into the mansion. The guest sigil was a key to many of them, and he could feel it resonate as he walked through the rooms, telling him he was welcome.

Krana and Ayala had their own dwellings rather than staying with him, which were both a ways off in the Silver Hammer branch district, closer to Krana’s family, so after exploring the house for a bit, they headed back off into the city with Krana as a guide. There were many things to see while he was waiting and he wasn’t sure when he would get another chance.

Ayala begged off from the tour due to fatigue. She was still troubled about her father, and the bellisagi attack and the long flight hadn’t helped her to feel at ease, so when they passed the Silver Hammer branch district, she went off to rest at her own house. Krana was torn between staying with her and escorting Sam around the city like she’d promised, but Ayala solved the problem by insisting she was fine alone.

From the resonance in the guest sigil as he wandered through the city, he could feel that every public building he passed was open to him. It was a level of enchantment that he hadn’t seen in any city before this, a mixture of security and wards that protected the city and keyed it to its inhabitants at the same time. It seemed like enchantment had become a public service here, supporting the buildings and the people both, which was something that the human cities had not managed yet, perhaps due to their lesser organization or the demands of the guilds.

At first, he wondered if the city was divided into sections by wealth, where different tiers of sigils kept out those who didn’t belong, but Krana shook her head at that.

“My people wouldn’t stand for that. We like a basic sense of equality. Every dwarf of Runekeld has the same access, similar to what the Honored Guest sigil gives you. The only things that are off limits are private homes and places like the treasury and the council chambers, as well as some of the military regions. The enchantments are really more because we have a racial distrust of outsiders than anything. They define who belongs and who does not, but once you do, everything is open.”

Every home had an inscription along the door, and apparently sales and deeds throughout the city were verified by similar enchantments. If someone unauthorized tried to enter a home, the wards would block them and send up an alert.

The enchantments made him more confident that the bellisagi wouldn’t be able to cause much trouble here and a plan for the future began to form as he walked through the city, tasting the ale and sampling food from taverns and street vendors as he headed toward the central district.

Eventually, they ended up wandering onto the main boulevard of shops that formed a market near the river, which as it turned out was called the Silver Heart. The roaring water brought a freshness to the walk that almost made it seem like he was outside.

“The river is the heart vein of the cavern, which is where it got its name,” Krana explained cheerfully from his side. “Deeper into the caverns, it feeds farms and more homes, and its flow keeps the air fresh, but here it’s the center of commerce. Shops along this boulevard are the most expensive in the city. There are few other areas that can compete with it, and those are mostly on the guild streets.”

He nodded as he looked around at the crowd and made himself relax. He could feel the aura of curiosity in the crowd. Wherever he walked, he was constantly the center of attention. Dwarves old and young turned to stare at the golden titan with eyes like stars who was walking down the street, and then they grinned, since at the moment he was holding a mug of ale in one hand and a roasted mushroom skewer in the other.

He chuckled to himself as he looked around with his food. He’d taken up the habit early in their walk, when he’d noticed it put people at ease, and it gave him a chance to sample a lot of the food stalls they were walking past. There were a few free-standing ones, but most were built into the ground floor of the buildings, intermixed among shops of other types.

The ale was a mix of bright hops and roasted malt with a twist of orange and caramel on the tail. There was a rich complexity to it that he’d never experienced before. He’d heard of dwarven ale, but this walk was the first time he’d ever had the chance to really explore what that meant. It felt like if he kept studying the drink, more layers of meaning would reveal themselves, changing moment by moment.

There was a thread of mana woven through it, but that was common to all highly-crafted ales, since it was a feature of the Brewer class to enhance the flavor and the effect. The dwarf who had brewed this had done something even more and he tried to figure out what it was as he took another sip.

When he lowered the mug, there was a young dwarven girl grinning at him from on top of a barrel that was outside a shop door. She was sitting on top of it, kicking her feet against the sides, and when she saw him look at her she let out a laugh and promptly rolled off and hid behind it. She peeked out from around the side to see if he was still there, and when he was, she grinned again before she ducked back. He let out a chuckle as he waved at her.

“The smiths and some other crafters have specialized districts for their needs,” Krana explained as she pointed down the boulevard, “but many of them have shops along the Silver Heart, since this is where people come to shop first. This market stretches the entire length of the cavern on both sides of the river.”

“I don’t see many non-dwarves here,” Sam said thoughtfully as they continued to walk. Despite the bustle of activity, those on the street were almost solely dwarves. Only a few humans were in sight, as well as a scattering of other races from below the surface, including gnomes and a type of lizard-folk that he wasn’t familiar with.

In the distance, he could sense some earth elemental-kin as well, something from the deep caverns that had taken on a form similar to a dwarf, but he couldn’t see them yet. There were also a few of the cave boars that the dwarven legions were riding as they passed along the road. It was a strange contrast from the streets of Highfold.

“Few humans visit and, in truth, are really welcome here,” Krana said with a soft sigh as she looked around. “My people are honest and solid allies, but we have a strong sense of tradition, and it’s not easy for a human to be allowed in. There has to be some proof of their good will first, a name they’ve made before we trust them. My people also prefer to stay among those they know, which is why you don’t see too many dwarves abroad.

“That’s why my parents are ambassadors to Osera. We need good relations with the outside and are trying to make them stronger. A large part of my clan branch focuses on external trade and importing things to the city.”

Sam nodded as he looked around. He could feel the flow of trade here and all that the dwarves had to offer to the world. Hopefully, he could convince some of them to come to the relic and work with him. Perhaps they could take the place of the Toa’an and become the elemental smiths of a new legend.

The thought reminded him to search for traces of the Aelvara and the Toa’an in the world. He’d never heard of them until he’d found the records in the relic, but hopefully some still existed. It was possible they had been wiped away completely in the Breakings, and if that were true, it would be a great loss.

“How long do you think it will take the council to deliberate?” Sam asked as he looked down at Krana. “Your city is beautiful, but there is a lot to do. Do you know of any strong elemental places here that we could visit?”

“There are legends of endless fire and fountains of earth mana deep in the tunnels,” Krana said thoughtfully as she looked into the distance, “as well as much stranger things, like metal that sings the songs of ancient races and elementals that tend lakes of magma. My people have searched deep, but even we do not go into the heart of Aster Fall.

“If you go down far enough, the walls of reality start to bend and even a dwarf’s sense of direction becomes useless. It is easy to become lost there and never return. If you want to see those areas, it will take the council’s permission to open the gates. They’re sealed for public safety.”

“I will ask then.” Sam nodded. “That sounds like exactly what I’m looking for. Perhaps I’ll be able to find an aura for the relic down there.”

“Well, while we’re waiting, I know just the thing to make you more famous,” Krana said with a grin. “With your titles, my people will be wondering what you can do. That gives us an opportunity for you to show off.” She pointed over a bridge that crossed the Silver Heart to a different district in the distance.

“There’s a part of the Crafters’ Guild we should visit. That’s the unified organization that brings all the other crafts together for profit. They have a competition for crafters that’s open every day, where you create an item in public. If you give it to them at the end, and it’s worth putting on display in their hall to inspire younger crafters, they’ll grant you a reward equivalent to its value, as well as a badge of honor. There’s a whole gallery of items on display that people have made.”

“Really?” Sam asked with curiosity as he looked to where she was pointing. It sounded like a good location to see what the dwarven crafts were like. “It sounds interesting, especially if there are examples of how dwarves forge. Are there any enchantments or golems there?”

“Both,” Krana agreed, “and not only is it an exhibition hall for crafters, it’s also a record of crafting over the ages. Some of the oldest items in Runekeld are there. Since we have a day or two until the council is ready to give us an answer, why don’t we go look?”

Her words sparked a deep interest, since he’d always wanted to see what the dwarves were capable of. He had no doubt that the council was deliberating over the value he could bring to their city and his promises at the gates, as well as how much it would cost them.

If crafting convinced them he was a strong ally, it would be a good use of his time, and perhaps he could gain some support for the relic. The dwarves of Highfold were honest, but they were only a small clan compared to the people of Runekeld. The potential trade was staggering.

“Lead the way,” he said as he finished off the ale he was drinking and stored the tankard away in his dimensional pouch.

---

The crafting hall was a sprawling edifice of granite and marble with wide hallways supported by arching roofs and carved stone pillars that rose from floor to ceiling in an ornate spiral, but that wasn’t what stood out the most. That honor went to Master Smith Boren.

“I’ll be smashing your head into that pot if you don’t start using that hammer properly! It’s not a wet noodle, you brat! Straighten your arm. You want the steel to ring like a bell. It’ll talk to you when you get it right.” The dwarf in question was enormous, not in height, but in width. His arms were as large as ale barrels and bulged with muscle, and he was nearly as broad across the shoulder as he was tall.

He was currently directing a set of young apprentices in the proper hammering method, and he wasn’t too pleased with their progress. He walked from place to place straightening out an arm or demonstrating the proper positioning as he instructed the youths in their craft. There were twelve of them in the current class, and they looked to be about twenty, which made them barely old enough to be left on their own as dwarves measured things.

From what Krana had said on the way here, Sam knew the Master Smith had once been an instructor in the Bloodguard, but he’d chosen to pursue smithing as his main interest as he got older. For the last century and a half, he’d taught at the crafting hall as he pursued his craft.

If that had been all, he would have been worthy of respect just for the length of his dedication to the art, but there was far more to him. The vibrant strength of his aura raged through the hall like a forge fire and held a deep bell tone in it like the reverberation of a hammer on metal.

He was the first Third Evolution crafter that Sam had ever met.

He didn’t need to Analyze the dwarf to see his information. It leapt into his awareness the instant he crossed the threshold to the forge, like a warning of whose place this was.

Master Smith Boren. High Artisan of Runekeld-Dwarven Master Smith. Level 327.

It was the first time he’d ever seen a title in front of someone’s name. The master smith didn’t provide his family or clan name, just his occupation and his title, and perhaps that was enough.

He no doubt noticed Sam and Krana enter, since everything in the forge was clearly in his awareness from how he was able to yell at a student with his back turned, but he kept working with the apprentices for a few minutes as he set them to their tasks. Eventually, he waved over a junior smith to continue supervising and then he stomped toward the new arrivals. The forge echoed as he crossed the distance, its energy pulsing like hammer blows as each footstep rebounded from the stones.

Instead of speaking, he came to a halt in front of Sam and crossed his arms as he studied them, his expression nearly hidden behind a dark red beard that was separated into many individual braids capped with beads of different metals, which seemed to be an indicator of his status. His eyes sparkled with a deep intelligence and curiosity from beneath thick black eyebrows.

Sam regarded him the same way, letting him take his measure as he studied him in turn. The dwarf was tall for his race, nearly up to Sam’s ribs, and there was no doubt of the strength in his body or his eyes. From the look of him, he didn’t need to shape metal with his hands. It would bend into whatever form he wanted with a heavy glare.

“You should have been a dwarf.” The words rumbled out of the master smith with a frown as he looked up at Sam. Then he reached out and picked up Sam’s hand. He flipped it over so he could examine the calluses on it, unconcerned by the talons that were nearly touching his skin.

His grip was gentle, but the strength in it far surpassed Sam’s own and trying to escape would have been pointless. He examined Sam’s hand for a moment before he did the same with the other. After that, he studied the bracers on Sam’s arms and the amulets and shielding ring that he was wearing. There was no doubt he saw everything about them.

“You’ve advanced too quickly for your equipment to keep up,” he said at last as he released Sam’s hand. His words came in a rumbling cadence of displeasure, but it wasn’t targeted at Sam as much as at the world. “You need time to work on your craft, but from the looks of you, you’ll not get it. The world never has stood still to let a smith work, and I don’t expect it ever will.”

He folded his arms back across his chest as he looked at Krana and gave her a tiny nod and then his full attention was back on Sam.

“So what can I do for you, Chaos Smith? It doesn’t look like you’ve come here to learn. Your hands don’t speak of a hammer, but of Fire itself. I won’t be of much help as a teacher, though I may have some experience to offer. Fire and I are old friends.”

“I will listen to anything you wish to share.” Sam inclined his head to the master smith. He didn’t need Krana to tell him to be respectful. The old dwarf’s own strength saw to that. “But we’ve come for the crafting demonstration, and then I would like to see the Hall of History.”

“Good!” The word was like cut steel as Boren nodded, his approval evident as he grinned. The beads on his beard chimed as they struck one another. “It will do the smiths here well to see you at work. Every school has something to offer and yours may teach them something of the elements. Come, let’s head there now.”

Without delay, Boren led them through the halls. Krana was respectfully silent in his presence, perhaps intimidated by the history of the master smith, but his personality was warm. His attention was on Sam as they walked. The crafting hall was very large, and it looked like he was taking them on a circuitous route to their destination. From time to time, he pointed at things they passed and gave them a brief history, from types of historical armor to jewelry.

“Your equipment speaks of battles and new wars in the world,” Boren said bluntly as he finished explaining about a breastplate that had a hole torn through the center. Apparently, it had been done by a giant’s spear and it was a good demonstration for why armor needed to be layered for durability. “So tell me, what’s bothering you out there?”

For some reason, he had the feeling that Master Smith Boren was someone to trust. Perhaps it was his Craftsman trait encouraging him or something similar that the smith had, but he felt confident that if he told him the truth, it would only help. Still, he didn’t need to bury him with everything, so he focused on the most relevant issue: the bellisagi.

“I haven’t yet found out why they are hunting me.” Sam rubbed his chin as he explained briefly. “It seems someone has placed a bounty on my head.”

“Bellisagi?” Boren grumbled thoughtfully at the name, but he didn’t seem too bothered about the idea. He interlocked his thick fingers as if he were holding an enemy between them and cracked his knuckles with a sharp pop. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard of them causing trouble, but they are known for it. If they’re after you, it means you’ve done something right. A bounty’s just a way of keeping score. Bellisagi though...that means you’ve got the attention of their chieftains, or at least one of them.”

“They have more than one?” Sam’s attention locked onto the smith, who seemed to know more about them than he did.

“Aye, last I heard, there was a whole circle of them, a chieftain’s council of sorts,” Boren agreed. “They caused a lot of trouble for the Accord of Nuria to the north of here, the next kingdom over. Killed practically all of the young nobles there until the Nurian sorcerers managed to hunt them down and eradicate the branch responsible. That was about fifty years ago and they’ve been pretty quiet since.

“Strange thing about your problem though...someone new must have taken over if they’re down here. Those chieftains made a pact not to hassle the nearby kingdoms, which is what got Nuria to stop chasing them. If they’re after you, either a new chieftain has taken over a clan and doesn’t feel bound by that agreement or something significant has happened.”

“How would you deal with them?” Sam asked with curiosity. “I killed the three that came after me a few days ago.”

“Aye, that’s about the only way,” Boren agreed with a short nod. “That type won’t give up. The only ones who know any form of negotiation are the chiefs and they’re usually at the Third Evolution. Best you can do is show them your fist and let them break themselves on it if they insist. It’s a shame, but reasoning’s never worked well with them. They believe the only truth is victory.” He made a fist with one hand and slammed it into his palm, releasing a crack like two slabs of metal colliding, and then he continued.

“There are other uncivilized races out there, some of them descendants of Outsiders and civilized races that fall into a sort of grey area as far as the World Law’s concerned. There are also others that are just unwilling to follow the rules, like giants, orcs, and goblins, who are excited by slaughter and blood, but the bellisagi are one of the more difficult of the smaller groups. They’re persistent and once they’ve set their minds on something, they don’t like to let it go.

“Now, that bounty you mentioned is interesting,” he added thoughtfully. “It seems like you think the two are connected, and that may be, but it would be strange. I doubt the bellisagi have much traffic with Aethra’s assassin guilds. They’re an insular group and known for only following the orders of their chieftains.

“The only other way I could see that working,” Boren continued as he knocked a knuckle against his chin in thought, “is if someone challenged a chieftain of the bellisagi and took over...but the likelihood of that is small. Those madmen would rather kill themselves than accept an outsider.”

The smith may not have intended it, but his choice of words made Sam consider actual Outsiders as a possibility. The bellisagi had followed them in the past. What if one had come through a Flaw and taken over one of their tribes, or demanded that the tribe follow them? Would the race’s old association make them work with them again? The thought ran through his mind as they continued to walk through the crafting hall.

An Outsider could explain the connection, especially if it were one of the subtle ones who liked to act from the shadows. He’d seen the mercenaries and adventurers near Highfold who followed the Outsiders, and he still didn’t know how they’d been recruited. Somewhere out there, there was an organization working for Outsiders, perhaps even more than one.

He wouldn’t put it past them to have a connection to the assassin’s guild.

He had a feeling that if he tracked the origins of the bellisagi and the bounty to the source, it might intersect. The smith hadn’t intended it, but his words could be more true than he knew. The idea sent Sam’s thoughts into a consideration of how the threads of power were woven throughout the kingdom and who was truly in charge. The king in Veritan had little sway here in the western province. Even the cities were only loosely woven together by trade. It would be easy for someone to set up an obscure network.

Boren kept up a discussion of the history of dwarven smithing in Runekeld as he led them through the crafting hall, but eventually his words came to a halt as the three of them passed through a large archway into a chamber whose entrance was marked by old enchantments designed to reinforce the structure.

A current of fresh air kept the chamber from being sweltering, but there was no hiding the wash of heat that roared up from the center, where a pool of bright red magma was visible. Bubbles of sizzling liquid rose and popped across its surface, sending waves of roiling fury across the room.

The magma was contained within a circle of enchanted stone that marked out the edge of the pool, but there were a dozen miniature openings along the edge that allowed it to flow out along channels into broad forges set up across the room. Each forge had a workstation of its own, with tables for materials and anvils of different sizes, and a rack of tools was set nearby.

The magma channels ran from the central pool into the bottom of each forge and disappeared for a moment before they exited the far side, where they looped around and returned to the pool. The glow of enchantments radiated from the forges and Sam could sense that there was some mechanism for controlling the intensity of the heat there.

“Welcome to the Hall of Magma, the oldest forge in Runekeld.” Boren grinned as he gestured into the hall, his pride apparent. “Our ancestors tapped the veins of the earth for endless heat to forge and crafted the enchantments necessary to make it a tool. Many of the finest works of art in Runekeld have come from these forges. Some dwarves like to set up different versions, but when you forge with magma, whatever you craft is born from the blood of the earth and carries some of its energy with it.”

Only two of the forges were occupied at the moment, each of them by a dwarf with two assistants, but there were a handful of spectators on the sides of the room who were watching their progress carefully. Boren looked at Krana and then at Sam as he grinned.

“It looks like you’ve brought one assistant along with you, Titan, but it’s traditional to have two. I can’t let anyone say you did it wrong, so I’ll be your second. Now, why don’t you put those muscles to use and show me what you can do? If you make something that impresses me, I'll make sure the council aids you. Show me the meaning of Fire.”