One Moo'r Plow

The days that followed the transplanting granted me the deepest sleep I had ever enjoyed. Despite the far-off threat that the warbands posed, the farm ran like the smoothest of machines. Progress marched on here. Hunters were contracted to help keep my stores of food supplied, the excess going to feed to biter-pods and the roaming maw. Sheds and barns were erected in quick order, the full attention of Lidya and her crew focused upon this task now that the walls were completed.

And finally, I could expand my attention outwards to the other land I had purchased. The final crop would be taken off from within the walls soon, and in the meantime, land was broken and seeds were sown in other quarters.

Several tentative places were chosen as suitable pastures for when the herd would inevitably be split up given its size.

Several crews rotated out to pull plows and spread seeds, helped by new teams of horses purchased from Hullbretch. Despite initial concerns, they were not subjected to phantom rains of arrows from the archer that remained at large.

I had little to actually describe the attacker, but was asked questions at great length as a patrol from the baron stopped by to investigate. I gave all the information I could freely, yet outside of describing the attack itself, there remained little I could provide.

Things remained tenuous well.

For some time.

“Dwarves!”

The shout rang from the single watchtower built next to the southern gate. Incredulous as the watcher’s tone was, it carried fear as well. This single word commanded the farm to stop. Everything ground to a halt as people looked around, overtaken by sudden shock.

I rose from my seat, a pot of stew nearly knocked over in my haste. Long strides carried me towards the walls. A massive ladder creaked beneath my weight as I heaved myself over the rampart’s edge and gazed over the top.

Lines of armored figures marched in succession, low to the ground by stature and wide of bulk. Their armor clanged as they drew near, a tide of steel and beards. They were not quite what I expected when I had pictured dwarves, but through my blurry eyesight, I could make out features.

Steel half-helms covered the upper parts of their heads, anything below that shirked in favor of letting their beards hang out. The columns split as they reached the fork that led around my farm. Some dread settled in my stomach as half of them promptly stopped and began to unpack their gear. The other continued their relentless march around my farm.

“They mean to cut us off.” Lidya spoke solemnly from beside me.

Ishila looked pale as winter now, her face drained of any and all blood. Without a word, the orc hopped off the wall and began to run, burning a path for the stables and shouting for the other gate to be opened.

It took me far too long to think of why.

A dwarf had disappeared somewhere around here. The doomed party that had woken the dungeon was known to have had a dwarf in it’s ranks.

A rider tore from the gates ahead of Ishila, the gates barely having been opened wide enoughfor him to pass through. The half-orc spurred her bareback mount on behind him.

She almost made it too.

The earth was cleaved open ahead of her, a massive rend torn through the road and trees that stretched into an impassable maw. An armored dwarf gestured from where the column marched around my walls, and the trench widened, too far for any creature to leap over.

Ishila’s mount whirled, almost throwing her off in it’s panic as the ground quaked.

With the same haste as she left, the orc returned to the farm and yelled for the gates to be closed.

There was little I could do but watch now. Watch with growing concern as the host of dwarves on my front door began to construct a bastion faster than any mortal had business to. Their speed rivalled even Velton’s magic, but this was not a lone mage wielding arcnae might. These were legions that worked with unmatched speed and efficiency, metal molded in their hands before my very eyes.

Walls rose to either side of the host, propelled by relentless labour and dwarven steel-shaping. The same happened with the second host that had marched around my farm.

I was being sealed off, came the realization.

The sheer speed at which this happened would have impressed me, if not for the fact I was the one it was happening to.

“They want blood.” Ishila quietly remarked from next to me.

“Only reason dwarves ever venture into the surface world is tah avenge another dwarf.” Lidya remarked. “Everyone knows this.”

I had not.

“Shall I go and steady the workers?” The human’s way of excusing herself. I granted it and only Ishila and I were left on the rampart.

“Do you think they know?”

“I…Don’t know.” She spoke, voice filled with hesitation. “I really, really hope not.”

“Whatever you do, don’t fight them.” Ishila looked at me, her voice deathly serious. “We both know you are capable of incredible things, but dwarves are never, ever t be trifled with. Best yah can do is hope they move along and hope their wrath don’t come down on you.”

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“Don’t rightly know much about dwarves.” I admitted. Garek had never seen one before, and aside from vague warnings, this was my first as well.

“Entire world knows there are two races you stay far away from, for your own good. Dwarves and Elves. Elves keep to their Forests of the Sun, and Dwarves rule the Underdeep. Used to be more races down these, I was told. Nearly as many as there are on the surface world.”

“Now there are only dwarves.”

More silence between us as we observed the fortress of steel almost fully constructed before us. It’s walls rose higher than my own, a blockade that severed the road leading up the mountainside.

“Pray.” Ishila spoke. “Pray to teh Gods Above that dwarf wasn’t someone important, or they’ll butcher the whole mountainside to get answers.”

“Le’rish.” I realized. “Why didn’t she report back? Surely she must have seen them.”

“They don’t travel overland, Garek. They’re beneath our feet, digging through the earth while we’re blissfully unaware.”

Soon, all fell silent as construction was halted. We could nothing within the fort now, only gaze at it’s steel walls. The same was true for the blockade constructed to the other side of my farm. We were cut off now. Only the rider that had raced out first could take word of the dwarven troop up the mountain.

The wait was not long. Steel fluidly slid open, a gate formed in the otherwise blank metal surface, and a host of dwarves marched out.

I counted no less than twenty, all armed and armored to the teeth. Several carried axes with power cores embedded in the blades, covered in chainmail and forsaking helmets to let their beards flow freely. Heavily armored as they were, these were the least ironclad of the troop.

Save for their beards spilling free, the rest were clad in iron from head to toe, even those I assumed were archers from the large crossbows they wielded. Preceded by the clanking of armor, the host marched right up to the gate in formation and drew to a halt.

One stepped from the rest, clad in flowing chainmail robes and a fiery signet upon his brow.

“Cast upon the gates, lay down your weapons and submit yourselves for questioning.”

No terms offered, simply a demand stated. My hackles rose at this despite everything I had just been told. Who was he to come to my house, demand that I open my doors to do as he pleased?

“And if we do not?” I returned, hostility in my voice.

“Then your walls will be sieged, all inside put to the axe and answers taken from your corpses. In life or in death, we will extract what we search for.” He replied, tone impartial.

“Do it, Garek.” Ishila urged after a moment. “Any outcome from this is better than everyone being butchered.”

It galled me to give the order. Visibly enraged me to have to stand and watch as this host marched through my open gates and began to set about rounding up my workers. But I kept my temper through it all through sheer force of wil.

There was something uniquely infuriating to have one’s own property trodden over, and it stirred a flame of hatred deep within.

The throne of steel being erected was what nearly sent this to a boiling point. Ishila hand grabbed my arm as it dipped towards the claymore at my waist, and only then did I realize how dangerously close I had come to bloodlust.

“Don’t.”

Though it screamed against every fiber of my being, I obeyed.

More dwarves were marched through the breach, and I saw another that stood out from the rest. One who’s skin seemed to be made of metal, who’s beard was iron itself. Eyes glowed with pale blue light and whom the other dwarves gave a wide berth.

This was the one who sat upon this throne of steel and began to call forward the workers as they were crowded into a circle, surrounded by ironclad warriors. Myself and Ishila were likewise surrounded, dwarves to all sides and herded towards the throne.

There was one person I could not find anywhere. Tash. Look as I might, the Beastmaster was nowhere to be found.

One by one, the people who worked for me were called forward and asked the same questions.

Had they seen or heard of a dwarf in this area several months ago? Did they have any knowledge of his fate? What did they know of the dungeon’s awakening?

These three questions and nothing else. There was no interest in their names, professions, anything other than the dwarf held no meaning to these people.

And soon, the crowd has thinned and only myself and Ishila was left.

“You.” The steelskin dwarf gestured to me. I stepped forward and was immediately wrenched by an aura as I entered the dwarf’s presence.

“Have you seen or heard of a dwarf that was in this area several months ago?” He repeated, voice emotionless.

“I have.” I found the truth all but forced from me, unable to lie in the being’s presence.

“Desrcibe the events that occurred.”

I found myself doing just that. I recounted my run-in with the party in Hullbretch, their attempts to recruit me on my farm, failing to do that and then their intentions to head to the peak for something the dwarf insisted was there. Through tactical ommisions, I excluded any mention of Ishila in all this, focused on myself and what i knew the dwarf was personally involved in.

“Describe what you know about his fate.”

That would be a little trickier.

“I know he warped out of the dungeon shortly after it woke. I have heard he appeared inside the camp of monster hunters up the mountainside. I know he took a fast horse from them. I saw him gallop along the road that at the time cut through my farm as if a host of demons were on his tail. I have not seen him since nor heard news of his fate.”

All true. Le’rish had not told me what had happened, and I had not seen him since.

“Step to the side for further questioning in a moment.”

I could do little but follow those instructions, especially surrounded by a host of warriors.

And now, there only remained Ishila. Dread settled in my stomach as she was brought forward and asked the same questions as I. There was a fierce, stubborn look on her face, a conviction that made dread roil within me.

“I know of him.” Ishila started before the metal dwarf even asked. “Went into teh dungeon with ‘im. He ran soon as danger showed itself. Warped out n left his party to die.”

“Describe everything you know of his fate.”

It was at this precise moment that an enraged elf chose to burst through a fiery portal, murder in his eyes and the demand on his lips that his daughter be unhanded.

Just when I thought we might actually make it out of this unscathed.

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