Kirlian Cycle: Essence of Fire, Chapter 2

Helga and her family head down from the ancestral home to the flatlands for the spring moot.

The road made of stone blocks set down generations ago by dwergers long gone followed the curve of lake Kurdarim to the left of the Thunderdragon home. Rows of stacked interconnected buildings cut into the granite walls extended up into the hills on the other side. A few dwergers pulled small carts in the other direction. As they passed, Helga looked down to see bundles of barley, carrots, mushrooms, and other food grown on the sparse farmland near the massive lake that dominated the valley floor and being transported to the large markets of the city proper in north Therndihm. 

Helga felt a small amount of pity for farmers. Their craft of growing food held little permanence and lasted the briefest of moments. The products of her clan-craft could last centuries, only the royal clan-crafts of working with stone lasted longer. 

Gripping the reins of the mule tightly, Helga craned her head to see past the human-made wagons guided by her father and uncle ahead. The road angled sharply to the left. Just past a small building of short-lasting wood, a pair of guards next to a wooden gate three times the height of any dwerger nodded. 

A diverse green world beyond Therndihm overwhelmed Helga's senses. A countless number of different shades contrasted with a stunning array of bright flowers. Small plants with broad leaves, moss-covered rocks, and thin trees of needles replaced the buildings of gray cut stone. The depth and variety of plants made the western shores of Kurdarim seem lifeless in comparison. 

"How are you doing?" Kurt shouted back. "So much color, huh?"

Helga could only nod. Until he married into Clan Featherstone and moved away, every night Kurt sat by the family hearth and told stories of his journeys down the mountain, but his tales fell short of the splendor of what she now saw.

The road hugged the mountain curves with a gentle grade, and the clop-clop sound of the flatlander mule walking made her mind wander about why her father and Uncle decided to use human wagons and mules this year. Woodworking families existed, and Helga saw no reason why they couldn't create wagons more suited to the shorter stature of Dwergers with mountain rams being used to pull the carts instead of the giant beasts of the flatlands. It wasn't until birds fluttered in the trees, and small animals darted away as the trio of wagons approached.

Kurt held up his hand for the wagons to stop. Helga pulled back on the reins. Her mules slowed to a stop, and she wondered what she had done now. She looked around. Her wagon of supplies had a heavy tarp preventing her from seeing inside, but it still looked secure. 

Helga leaned and checked if the wheels had slipped off the stones and into the dirt during her reverie. 

Her father stumped over, huffing and puffing from a run. "Get down," he ordered. 

Helga shrugged and pulled the brake handle locking the left front wheel from moving. 

"We'll stop here for the night," Rudiger said. 

Helga looked around. "Why? It isn't even dark yet."

"Bah," Rudiger said and moved to the back of the supply wagon. 

"Just around that curve is the Dhurnbuldar bridge," Kurt said and pointed.  "If you listen, you can hear the sound of the falls from here."

Helga tilted her head. Although faint, the wind carried a deep hissing sound unlike any she'd heard before. 

"There are Coboli who live in the caves just beyond the bridge. If we wait until morning, we'll have the entire day to move through their territory. Or, would you prefer to drift off to sleep with them all around us?

"Will they attack us?" Helga asked. 

"Not here," Kurt said. "This is considered Therndihm tribal land..."

"Tribal?" Hela questioned.

"Coboli think in terms of small tribes. They won't cross into another tribe's territory."

"What about traveling through theirs?"

"The road belongs to us," Her father barked. "We built it before the first Coboli drew breath. Now stop dawdling and get to work."

"Best do as your father says," Kurt said.

Helga grunted and wrinkled her nose. "Of course."

The three dwerger unhitched the mules and pulled them to a grassy area then set up a small encampment. Helga took her time, which resulted in more shouting from her father. 

The three sat soon around a massive fire as the darkness of night closed in. 

"Wait until you see Dhurnbuldar," Kurt said. "It's an amazing achievement. One arched span cut from the mountainside." 

"It's just a bridge," Rudiger said. 

"You haven't worked in stone."

"Bah!" Rudiger said. "Ever since you married into the Featherstone clan, you've been all high and mighty about it."

"Stone endures, brother," Kurt said. "More than metal."

Rudiger suddenly looked up at the sky. "Pebbles to boulders," he swore. 

"What?" Helga asked. 

Kurt suddenly jerked his head up. "I'll get weapons," he said and bolted for a wagon.

Helga stood there feeling very confused; then, she felt a drop of water land on her arm, then another, then another. "It's raining," she said. Helga hated the rain and hid indoors when water fell from the sky. 

"Should we hitch the mules back up?" Kurt asked and removed a sword from one under the seat of a wagon. It did not appear to be bronze in the flickering fire but had the dusty gray of an iron weapon. 

"We'll defend the wagons here," Rudiger said and raced to the wagon he drove. He removed a broad ax from under the bench that also had the tint of an iron weapon. 

"What is going on?"  Helga asked. "Those aren't bronze."

"The Coboli worship Subare, the goddess of water," said Rudiger.

"And darkness," Kurt added. "They will take this night rain as a sign to attack."

"But the Bronze Treaty?" Helga asked and pointed to a non-bronze weapon. "I thought things made of dwerger iron couldn't leave the mountains."

Kurt thrust a small iron sword into her hand. "Stay close."

She'd seen other such weapons. As a Thunderdragon, both Helga and her brother helped their father craft iron for the royal caste of dwergers and farmers alike.  

She swung the sword a few times to get a feel for it.  Regardless of gender, all dwergers learned to use weapons. When Dieter broke his ankle last month, their father insisted on sparing with her every night before the evening meal preparing her for the journey to the flatlands. 

"This is why I made you learn to use a blade," Rudiger said, echoing Helga's thoughts. "Keep your back to the wagon; don't let them get behind you."

 Helga nodded and reached into her belt pouch. She removed a small flat stone with the rune of luck carved into its surface. 

"Uncle?" Helga whispered and displayed the stone. 

"Put that away," Kurt hissed. "Do you want your father to see?"

"But Uncle..."

"No. We'll do this as dwergers or die. We are not elves."

The rebuke made Helga's eyes water. She closed them tight and drew Essence to the rune. She felt the orderly flow find its match and bestow the benefits of increased luck on her. "How long do we wait?" she asked and thrust the stone back into her pouch.  

The water falling from the sky increased from scattered drops to a steady downpour and caused the campfire to sputter out. "Not long now," Kurt said. 

In the dark, the world shifted colors. To a dwerger, real darkness is something rarely encountered. As the light fades, the world becomes a haze of red, orange, and yellows against the darkest blue background. Her father, uncle, and the mules became bright yellow silhouettes and contrasted against the black of night. 

Helga opened her mouth to speak then she heard it. The buzz of chirping yips. On the edge of her vision, a moving wall of red burst into being.

"Here they come,"  Rudiger said and shifted to stand next to his daughter. "Remember everything I taught you."

Helga nodded and felt her insides grow cold as the distant reds became outlines in orange. 

"Diggers," shouted a scratchy voice. "You give up iron."

Rudiger and Kurt looked at each other. "We have only bronze and copper," Rudiger shouted back.

"You have iron," the voice shouted with a thick accent. "All diggers have iron. Give iron now or kill you."

"We stand on Therndihm land," Rudiger shouted. "Let us be and will give you bronze as we have before."

"Yadris dead. I chieftain now. I say what we do. Give iron all."

"That isn't good," Kurt whispered. 

"We take iron," the voice shouted, and the wall of orange charged forward then split apart to become individual outlines of hunched over yellows. A bolt of lightning flashed the world back into grays allowing Helga to see the creatures were slightly Shorter than dwergers, but with longer arms, they had horns protruding from their skulls in various shapes, sizes and positions. Their bulging eyes reflected yellow in the limited light before becoming yellow against black.

Five of the creatures advanced. Kurt seemed to spin in place with a blade in each hand. Two attackers fell gurgling to the ground as his weapons sliced just under the jaw. Rudiger swung his ax and severed the arm of one and the head of another. 

The remaining Coboli paced back and forth, unwilling to advance after seeing four of their tribe quickly cut down. 

"I not Yadris," the voice shouted again as three more separated from the main group and moved forward, becoming shadowy shapes. "I Tigol, shaman and now chieftain. Not afraid of elves."

"We aren't elves," Rudiger shouted.

"I command water now," Tigol shouted from the new group. "I use water." He held up a thick branch. At one end, a green glow blossomed from a large emerald secured with wide strips of leather. A ray of light discharged from the gem and connected with Kurt's chest. Ice instantly formed over him with his eyes still open.

Rudiger's head spun to look at his brother. "Pebbles to boulders,"  he cursed. "What did that?"

Helga watched as Tigol pointed his glowing staff at Rudiger.

"Father!" Helga shouted. "Look..."