Noc approached the ritual circle, the ritualist brought forth a folded sheet of paper and handed it to him. With nods, Noc and Borrin acknowledged their fellow dwarf as he exited the barracks.

  Unfolding the paper, Noc quickly scanned it before looking up at Ren. “We are to take you before the thirteen clan chiefs.” Noc moved to take the statue now emanating an aura that identified it as Ren’s.

  Ren stood in his new clothing, finally able to feel them out. They were well-fitted and comfortable, though it did nothing for the anxiety playing at the back of his mind. Again he was to be caged, again he was to be bound until death came for him.

  It was not as if they were wrong for doing so, the cleric had every right to be afraid of him. The dwarves too, for if he so decided, he could embrace his patron and become a plague on the world. With time he might even be able to bring the Void God Alkyri back into the physical realm.

  These people had no way of knowing his truth, how he hated the dead God. They couldn’t know how much he resented it for taking away the memories of those he lost, the memories that drove him mad at times. Regardless of how painful it was to remember, he wanted to.

  Ren followed Noc as he turned to leave the barracks. Borrin came into stride behind Ren, a good precaution. They knew he was something that could spell doom to the world, something like a bomb that could wipe out life across the world. If a bomb was found before it was loaded with a devastating payload, it could be safely defused. For Ren to be ‘defused’ in this situation though, it may mean something worse than death.

  Exiting the barracks, Ren felt the coolness of the great undermountain. The biome was fresh and sweet, for a people who put great value in metalwork and craftsmanship, one might expect toxic fumes to come up from great workshops, and the sounds of clanking steel to be heard all over. Here though, it was serene and pristine.

  Ren felt himself lulled by the beauty of the undermountain, it was beautiful and peaceful. It was only as they cascaded down spiraling stairs that things began to feel serious again. A monotonous climb led down into a great stone hallway, though this hallway was vertical.

  Down the spiraling stairs they came to a four-way segmented hall. Each opening into the nest hall was wide enough for several protomimus’ girths to fit through. In front of them, a hallway led miles long, endlessly bustling with men moving weapons and armor, craftsmen and their works.

  A second hall to their left held a series of homes, most were quite similar, though small changes here and there represented a great diversity in occupying families. Banners, each unique though some with great similarities to others marked the various doors. Two of the homes side by side, closest to the entrance into the spiral staircase hall, had banners of arms wielding axes. They were the only two homes to possess the same banner.

  The rightward hall led into an area where food and plants were being tended and processed. Great ovens and stoves prepared enough food to feed an army. To feed a society of dwarves, there had to be a hundred great dining halls just like this.

  To the rear of where they had come down the great stairs, men fought and trained. The area was open and wide. The hall expanded nearly a mile wide, slowly tapering wider and wider as it expanded into the distance. Past the large buildings, Ren could not see how wide the hall became, though he estimated it must have become miles wide.

  Noc moved swiftly towards this hall, the party rapidly moving into the great hall of swords and axes. It took long minutes to travel through this great hall, it was full of training men and craftsmen presenting items to those who had yet to fully equip themselves in fine dwarven attire. The weapons and armor were beautiful masterworks, even those given to those who seemed to be only novices. The youngest of the dwarven men fighting here was still heavily bearded and thick-set. Ren struggled to tell who was truly young, and their race all looked like older men in his eyes.

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  As they passed through the training grounds, one of several large buildings before them came alive. Two dozen guards came forth in moments and surrounded its entrance. Amongst them an elderly man in a robe. At his waist hung a belt without tools, but various gems and materials. Far different from the material and tools of the ritualist, the man only possessed gems, stones, and powders.

  The fact that these men were here for him did not pass over Ren’s head. They were ready in case he decided to attack or to run. The elderly robes man rubbed a finger along a tube at his belt. Pulling it forth a golden dust sprinkled into the palm of his hand. He held it tight as Ren approached, while another hand rested on a warmly colored and roughly cut gemstone.

  The soldiers flanked Ren as he was led by Noc. The Elderly dwarf in robes came into step before Noc, leading the ground into a great entryway. Great stone and silver worked doors swung open by the work of four men heavily armored. A great expanding room opened up before them, it was wide enough for hundreds of men, and tall enough that if it had been made with additional floors, ten more rooms just as wide could have been made with room to spare.

  It was with great discomfort that Ren was led before a long dining table. Thirteen dwarves sat along it, each with a great mug and plate of food. A single small table sat before them, one furnished well, and with enough food for several humans. Another large mug sat next to the fine foods.

  Noc pulled forth the chair at the table, beckoning Ren to sit. He did so, the elderly robbed dwarf standing to his left, while Noc stood to his right.

  The central dwarf at the table of thirteen spoke up. His beard was thickly braided with beads and rings of fine silver. He was tall for a dwarf, his head one of the highest amongst those sitting. His hair was short, his beard long, both a deep auburn speckled with gray and white. “I sit before you, Haldrin Son of Halbrin, chief of the Mithril’s Home. You have been called before us, we have been told you are a Gate-Keeper, one from another world. We have also been told, you have been sent by a dead God, one of the void.”

  A deafening silence rang out as the echoes of Haldrin’s voice ceased reverberating through the great openness above them. Ren stared at the dwarves before him, not knowing what to say.

  Noc stood tall and spoke. “Such accusations have been shown true, his likeness has been cast into stone.” Showing the stone statue of Ren, the thirteen looked on with unwavering eyes.

  “And then,” Spoke Haldrin. “What may he say in defense of himself?”

  Ren looked hesitantly at the robed dwarf who tossed the golden dusk into the air above Ren. Before he could speak, the dwarf spoke. “By my power, speak no untruth.” A magical force ceased Ren, his eldritch tongue attempted to fight back against the magic being cast onto him. Ren held it back, allowing his power to recede as the golden flakes hung above Ren like stars in the night.

  “Use your magic to force me to tell the truth, it will only help me in this.” Ren felt hope as the dwarves would be forced to believe him if they used magic like this on him.

  The robed dwarf lit up the golden flakes as Ren’s eldritch tongue felt like a whirlwind inside of him, going mad. The skill was far too weak to be of any help even if he wanted to lie.

  Ren looked into the eyes of the dwarves before him. “I am Ren, of Earth. I knew nothing of the worlds beyond my own…”

  Ren spoke of his tale, telling only the truth, for the magic that bound him only allowed him to do so. Every detail, every accident and mishap, every victory and new skill learned. He spoke of it all, and how he desired only to live and to be free. How his memories were stripped from him, and how he wished to kill the thing he saw inside the void between worlds. He told of the amber heart of the orks, and how because of him the entire clan was slain by a single man. Ren spoke of how he wanted to kill the man who had killed every man woman and child among the orks. Ren spoke most of all about Cella. The only friend, the only ally he had made in this world. Even though her people had been slain, even though she was alone in the world, she had been by his side loyal and strong.

  He was enraged at times, and at other times he struggled through tears as he remembered it over and over again.