She reached into her tunic and pulled out the charms she carried that had been her mother’s, and she quickly said a silent prayer to Hux, god of the dwarves.

  Over the next several days, Estryl’s forge was a hub for dwarves to gather and whisper and point. While she had no problem ignoring the hushed voices and pointing fingers, Estryl found herself wishing to be elsewhere. She began to find reasons not to be in the forge, even at the cost of jobs she had been hired for, but she needed solitude, and while the forge had been a place of solitude for her, it was not anymore.

  Still, she forced herself to go for at least a couple of hours each day. After nearly two weeks, she was in the forge and polishing one of her projects when she looked up to see Elder Fredric standing at the edge of the forge. Estryl quickly set her job to the side and moved to greet the elder.

  “Elder Fredric. What can I do for you?”

  Elder Fredric was a much older dwarf. He had outlived all his wives and even most of his sons, but was still strong and determined. He was known to still be one of the fiercest warriors among the dwarves, and was rather intimidating to look upon, his skin telling the tale of his fierceness in battle.

  Estryl ignored the ugly scars that marred her Elder’s face and smiled at him though he only managed a deep frown in return.

  “Estryl, you have been summoned. I am to escort you to a gathering of the Elders. We go now.”

  Estryl glanced at the work waiting behind her, and then at the still lingering crowd around her forge. She was suddenly eager to be away from the crush of dwarves. She nodded at her Elder and grabbed a clean rag from a workbench, plus a long-sleeved tunic to slip over her overalls. Elder Fredric turned abruptly and led the way through the dense crowd then beyond them toward the center of the dwarven city. As they walked, Estryl wiped her face, neck, and hands. Dwarves were not overly fastidious, but a meeting with the Elders demanded at least a show of cleanliness. Hoping she did a good job of cleaning the soot and ash from her face, she tucked the rag deep into her pocket and then slipped the oversized tunic on over her work pants in hopes that she was presentable.

  She paid little attention to the world around her as they walked the streets of the city. The city spanned over a dozen stories high and filled a huge cavern that stretched east to west. The city was built around a fortress-type structure in the center, with the city divided into sections that housed the different clans. Between each of the different clan sections, there were shared marketplaces and communal buildings. The entire cavern sloped downward toward an underwater river they used to travel between other subterranean cities. The higher side of the cavern led to a series of tunnels that led throughout the nearby subterranean world as well as multiple large shafts that led to the surface providing trade with the surface and access to fresh air. Overall, the city was a massive testament to the ingenuity of the dwarves who had lived there since the Cataclysm. However, none of it impressed Estryl anymore. So as she followed her brooding Elder, she allowed her mind to wander in anticipation of what this summons might mean.

  She knew it was a waste of time to ponder the summons, but she couldn’t help herself. While she assumed the summons was in regards to the shield, she had no idea why the Elders would be summoning her over it along. She could not imagine that anyone was still alive among the dwarves who recalled the gifts of her ancestors. So far as she knew, no one still lived that would have known her great-great-grandmother, the last known woman of her family to carry the gift.

  Estryl sighed heavily, and Elder Fredric glanced over his shoulder at her.

  “Do you know why you are being summoned?” he asked her gruffly.

  “Because of the shield?” Estryl asked back.

  The old dwarf nodded in affirmation but said nothing more.

  “Did I do something wrong, Elder Fredric?” Estryl asked stepping faster to move to his side.

  The elder gave her a sideways glance and then spit at the ground in front of him.

  “It’s a bunch of nonsense,” he muttered.

  “What is a bunch of nonsense?”

  The Elder shook his head and grimaced at her. “You will see.”

  Clearly not willing to say any more on the matter, the Elder stuffed more chew in his mouth and mumbled under his breath for the rest of the way to the Gathering Hall.

  Estryl followed Elder Fredric inside, remembering the last time she had been there, which had been the funeral pyre for her Mother’s passing. Sudden sadness washed over her, but she took a deep breath and pushed it down. She focused on all the Elders who were all seated in a semi-circle around the large hall. Elder Fredric motioned for Estryl to stand at the center of the hall, and he moved to take his seat among his colleagues.

  Estryl looked around at the Elders. She saw a few familiar faces, but not many, and all wore expressions she could not decipher.

  Elder Fredric cleared his throat and addressed her. “Estryl, you have been called among us, because of your incredible display of talent with your metalwork. We have not seen this level of craftsmanship since…” He cleared his throat again. “… well, since the time of one of your ancestors. Your great-great Grandmother it was, I believe.”

  Estryl waited for him to continue, but saw the other Elders nod in agreement.

  “It appears that a gift we thought lost to us with the death of your Great-Great-Grandmother has been returned to you. You are to carry on that incredible legacy. We are here to inform you that the gift is yours to decide how to use…”

  Another elder stood up and interrupted, “…Because we have learned the hard way that trying to control the bearer of the gift only leads us all to chaos and pain.”

  Estryl’s eyes grew wide at that piece of information, but she remained still, and even more nervous in front of the Elders.

  Elder Fredric frowned at the interruption. “Er… yes. That is so. That is why we are going to offer you some ideas, and allow you to decide which course of action you would like to take. Before we do, we want you to know, we unanimously agree to support your decision and to help in whatever ways we are able.”

  Estryl nodded that she understood.

  He continued, “Your gift, should you choose to keep it, requires a great deal of training. Some you can glean from our Elders and Priests, but because of its strong ties to pure magic, most of your training would be among the elves and the humans. This would mean you would have to leave us and the safety of our world. You would have to return to the harsh surface…”

  Estryl stepped forward suddenly without waiting to hear the Elders out completely, “Yes. Yes! I want to do that. Yes!”

  Elder Fredric frowned at her for interrupting him. “My child you do not understand all that this means…”

  Estryl nearly jumped up and down in excitement. “I don’t have to. I know in my heart that this is what I need to do. More than that, I have always longed to return to the surface. It’s as if it is calling to me.”

  The Elders erupted in sudden animated conversation. In the confusion, Estryl made eye contact with Elder Martan who simply sat back in his chair with his arms across his chest. His look was one of pride, a wide smile on his face, and his eyes twinkling at her. In contrast, the look on Elder Fredric’s face was one of worry and concern.

  Finally, he raised his fist and pounded it on the arm of his chair several times.

  “Quiet!” he shouted over the din of the other elders. “QUIET!”

  The other Elders ceased talking and turned their attention back to him.

  “We all agreed we would offer Estryl our support.”

  One of the Elders leaned forward, “Yes, but…”

  “No ‘buts’. Her decision is made, albeit hasty, and we will honor our word.” He turned to face Estryl fully. “Young woman, since this is the path you choose, this is how it will proceed, at least for a time. Your training will commence with us, then our priests. Once you have completed your training with us, we will send you to the surface to a city called Farcaste Reach. There you will begin learning from and training with the humans and other races. From there, they will know where you go next. Your journey will be up to you. You could train for a few years, or for the rest of your life, but you will know when the training is complete, and when you can return to us.”

  Estryl’s mind raced. She was going to the surface. She could not wait to start. She wanted to go to the surface, and she wanted to go right at that moment. She found herself wondering what she would find there. What was the Reach like? What would she learn? What could humans teach her about metalwork that dwarves couldn’t?

  Suddenly, she realized she was being addressed as she felt all the Elders staring at her in silence.

  “I, um, I’m sorry. What did you say?” she asked quietly not even sure which Elder addressed her.

  Elder Martan stood up and tucked his big hands into his pockets. “Child, we simply blessed you on your way. Your training with me begins at the first light of the morning forges. I recommend you return home and get some rest.”

  In a daze, Estryl nodded and slightly bowed in respect for the Elders, then she turned on her heel and fairly flew on suddenly light feet out of the Gathering Hall and back to her home.

  When she told her brother what had happened later that day, he was silent for several minutes. Afraid he was upset with her for choosing to leave, Estryl laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you. Maybe I should have asked for some time to think about my options and talk to you…”

  Stranick smiled at his sister. “No. No. Do not apologize. I was just wondering if they would allow me to go with you when you go.”

  Estryl gasped and then hugged her brother tightly. “If you really want to come, I will make sure they say yes! Oh my! There is so much to do! Training, and learning, and planning, and packing!”

  The two of them stood there in a tight embrace for several minutes, then Stranick’s stomach rumbled loudly, and he pushed her away with a quick poke in her ribs.

  “But first, let’s eat.”

  Estryl laughed. “Yes. Of course.”

  Tristal

  The tiny White Elf sprinted and leaped among the boulders along the steep mountainside. She moved so fast she was almost a blur to the group that watched from above as she maneuvered the training course. She tried not to think of the elders who were gauging her progress. She had already taken out an elemental, a blight goblin, a wraith, and a troll with little effort. Granted, she knew they were all magically conjured, but she was still proud of herself. According to her mental calculations, she was several seconds ahead of the record time for the course. All she had left to defeat was a rock giant. Cabot had warned her that magically conjured or not, defeating it would require all her mental aptitude and physical prowess. She continued her pace as she stretched her senses outward hoping not to be caught off guard by the beast.

  Mid-leap she sensed it and knew it was too late to avoid smacking right into it as it moved into her path. Instinctively, she reached out her hands that already held her blades ready. She gripped the knives so the blades faced downward, and as she hit the chest of the rock giant, she dug the blades into the tough hide.

  The rock giant arched its back and let out a horrific yell at the sudden pain from Tristal’s elven blades. It swung a giant hand to swat her off its chest, but she suddenly launched herself upward, using the blades as handsprings, and effectively digging them even deeper into the giant’s flesh. Scrambling up onto the giant’s shoulder, balancing her weight from foot to foot as the giant tried to grab her, its own cumbersome body teetering back and forth on the side of the mountain, she pulled her thin sword, a tiny needle of a blade compared to the blades her Forest Elf cousins carried, and carefully dancing away from one of the giant’s hands, she cut a deep gash into the giant’s neck. As warm blood gushed from the nearly mortal wound in the giant’s neck, she flew to the other shoulder, balancing along the giant’s bulky neck muscles. On the other shoulder, she flashed her sword against the other side of the giant’s neck. This time the cut was more shallow because the giant stretched its neck away from her in a desperate effort to prevent another cut.

  Letting out a primal yell at the tiny invader, the giant grasped at the gushing wound on one side, while it slapped and swatted at her on the other. Tristal found herself having to dash, duck, and dance to avoid the giant’s hand. She realized the giant was also starting to lose its balance. Knowing that the kill would not count if it died from a fall versus her blade, Tristal changed her plan to simply cut its throat. Instead, she dove into the giant’s face with her sword before her. She knew there was a soft spot in the center of the giant’s frontal bone. If she could stab exactly right in that soft spot, her sword would easily hit the giant’s brain and would drop it instantly. It was a gamble. The spot was only a tiny spot in comparison to the size of the beast itself, but for a tiny White Elf, like she was, the spot was at least the size of her own head.

  “Easy,” she thought to herself as she leaped.

  Upon her blade meeting the giant’s forehead, she sighed inwardly as her blade punctured the thick flesh and at first met the resistance of the skull bone, but then because of her momentum, the blade slipped past the skull bone and into exactly the spot she was looking for. As her body caught up to the blade, she braced her hands on the hilt and tightened her body to push the blade as far as she could.

  Her body was crushed up against the giant’s forehead, her body sensing the giant’s hand on its way to squash her when suddenly the giant’s hand fell to its side and its entire body just stopped moving. She leaned her head to look into the giant’s left eye, and she watched in satisfaction as the eye dilated and then glossed over before its eyelid shuttered closed. At that same moment, she felt the giant start to fall backward. She breathed a sigh of relief that the giant had shifted just enough so that it would fall back against the mountain rather than over the side.

  Several minutes later, as she waited for the dust to settle around the giant, she heard the excited whispers from the White Elves that approached her from above. She wondered if Cabot was with them. She knew he would be excited for her, just as she had been for him when he had completed his training the year before.

  Tristal pulled her sword from the giant’s head. Careful to clean her blade before she returned it to her back, she slid down to its chest where she extracted her small blades. After cleaning them carefully as well, she tucked them into the sleeves of her tunic where she wore them strapped to her arms. As she finished strapping them into place, she suddenly found herself face to face with the first of the elders to make it down the mountain.

  She bowed deeply, her long white hair falling before her, nearly touching the ground. She was always warned to tie her hair back or to cut it, but she was proud of her thick locks, and her rebellious streak demanded even the tiniest rebellions.

  “Well done, Tristal.” The Elder laid a hand on her head indicating she could stand back up. Tristal stood and met the Elder’s eyes.

  He smiled warmly at the young elf before him. Tristal was an orphan from another clan. When her clan had been nearly obliterated in an attack from blight goblins, a neighboring clan of White Elves had moved in to try to help the survivors. None of the remaining adult elves had wanted to move. Stubbornly, as their race was known to be, they insisted they would manage and would continue to fight back the blight goblins. They had, however, been convinced to at least let the newly orphaned youngsters of the clan be adopted into other clans. Tristal was one of those orphans. Still young, though she was well into her 60’s, she had grown into a promising warrior with only her temper and rebelliousness getting in her way.

  The Elder glanced at the body of the giant on which he stood. As the other Elders joined him, he motioned for Tristal to remain where she was while they observed her kill, and discussed this final test to her overall training.

  Tristal bounced nervously, her hands wringing behind her back. She bit at her lip as she tried to pick up what the Elders were saying. Frustrated, she realized they must have cast a spell to keep their conversation from being overheard. She rolled her eyes. They only ever spoke in whispers anyway, casting a spell was overkill.

  As though he read her thoughts, the first Elder leaned back and glanced at her at exactly that moment. Tristal’s eyes opened wide and she abruptly looked at her feet hoping he didn’t notice the sudden heat in her cheeks. She continued to stare at her feet until she heard them call her name.

  Tristal approached the Elders with sudden trepidation. She found herself angry with herself for her misplaced nervousness because she knew she had done well. Still, she was an outsider. Adopted into the clan or not, many in the clan never let her forget that she didn’t really belong. Even among the Elders, she knew she was little more than part of their duty to the other clans, and therefore a burden, not at all a valuable addition to the clan. Except for the Elder who met her, and Cabot, of course, Tristal was fairly certain the entire clan felt that way about her presence.

  The head Elder, an ancient old crone, stepped forward to meet Tristal.

  “Well done, Tristal. You set a new record, and you proved to have taken all of your training into account. We will celebrate your success today around the clan fire tonight. As we prepare, have you thought of which outpost you’d prefer to be your first assignment?”

  Tristal bowed her head to the Elder and nodded.

  “Thank you, Matron Freeda. I am hoping the Elders will allow me to serve at the Northern Outpost…”

  Matron Freeda interrupted, “No doubt to serve alongside young Cabot?”

  Tristal stammered for a reply, then found her tongue, “He is my friend. Are we not allowed to serve alongside the ones we trust most?”

  Matron Freeda stared deep into Tristal’s lavender eyes. She frowned at the young elf with knowing in her eyes.

 

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