The Dwarven Sorcerer

The Dwarven Sorcerer Ch 14

Big and dumb. The two words that go together like rock and hard, steel and strength, honey and sweet, they are connected; they can't exist without the other. Kargan was big that's for damn sure; standing five and a half feet tall, making him a giant among the dwarves. But he ain't dumb. He looked it though, he had a large brow, a thick jaw, narrow eyes, and thick hairy arms. He looked like some kind of bloody ape really. But he had a kind of guile that most dwarves didn't possess and didn't understand. Although many dwarves he was dumb, none would say it to his face.

He was a fighter, strong as a mountain bear, probably the strongest dwarves in Rathgar. In battle, he could weld a huge maul with incredible ease and ferocity like no other. Once he crushed in the head of an orc with his bare hands. He felt the bone shatter between his two massive hands, felt the vibrations up his arms and the warmth of the blood and brains as they seeped out of the orc's obliterated skull.

Being big and strong had its uses but it was his wits that got the attention of the inquisition, allowing him to rise quickly through their ranks until he was one of the most elite inquisitors. He believed in what he was doing, in what the inquisition stood for. Wizards and witches were evil and needed to be hunted down and eliminated, that's for damn sure.

He didn't enjoy the methods though, it made him feel sick sometimes. He would wake in the middle of the night because of a nightmare, the sounds of crying, begging dwarves echoing through his head long after the dream was forgotten. But it was for the best, for the greater good. He could live with the sleepless nights, the nightmares if it made the city, no, the entire kingdom safer from this evil.

The giant dwarf stood outside a small cell and took a deep breath before entering — he seemed to be doing that a lot lately, steadying himself before beginning his work. Inside, there was a dwarf strapped to the infamous witch's chair; the chair was made of cold hard-steel that was covered in hundreds of small pyramid-shaped spikes that were too dull to pierce the skin but dug deep into the flesh mercilessly.

A fair-haired dwarf was strapped to the chair and was shifting constantly trying to find a position where a spike wasn't jabbing him in some unholy way. Good bloody luck with that. He was left alone in the room for just over an hour, his hands manacled to the table in front of him, his feet and torso chained tight to the chair, and a pendant engraved with powerful anti-magic runes hung around his neck. He was naked but for an itchy woollen tunic.

Kargan said nothing, just stared at the dwarf, taking in the sight of him and trying to figure out his next move. This dwarf would have been interrogated several times by the lower-level inquisitors before being handed to Kargan. It took a strong-willed dwarf to get this far in the process, to have made through all the previous interrogations without saying a word. It would have taken an especially stubborn dwarf — or an innocent one. He pushed that last thought away. None of the dwarves arrested by the inquisition are innocent

There were many ways of approaching a dwarf like this one, threats against his family, against his honour, long drawn out torture, endless questioning, Kargan had to choose which was best. He looked closely at this dwarf as he shifted on the witch's chair.

He was pale and had dark sunken eyes from lack of sleep and proper nourishment over the last week under the inquisition's care. He was thin and weak looking, but Kargan knew that he was tougher than he looked to have survived this long without giving a confession.

Kargan stood in silence for a long moment before the dwarf in the chair spoke, his voice weak sounding and hollow in the stone cell.

"Look, I already told the others," he was cut off suddenly as Kargan brought his fist down hard on the dwarf's hand. He felt the hand break under his fist, heard the bones crack as they shattered. The dwarf in the chair let out a loud shriek of pain.

"You fuckin' bastard, you gods-damned bastard. I'll fuckin' kill you for that you fuckin' coward," screamed the dwarf; spit flew from his mouth, spraying the table in front of him as he shouted more obscenities.

Kargan raised a thick black eyebrow ever so slightly, he wasn't expecting such venomous language from this half-broken dwarf. He's got some fight left in him, that's for damn sure.

The dwarf's hand swelled up and turned a dark purple almost immediately. Slowly, Kargan reached into a pouch in his wide belt and pulled out a pair of black gloves. He didn't need them, he didn't mind getting his hands dirty, blood washes off after all. No, he didn't need the gloves, they were there for the spectacle, it made the prisoner more afraid, made him wonder what was going to happen next.

Deliberately, he put the gloves on and flexed his fingers, the leather creaking as they stretched over his thick hands. The dwarf in the chair stopped screaming and looked at Kargan wide-eyed. He opened his mouth to say something but Kargan broke his nose before he could get a word out.

Blood sprayed out as his head jerked back, hitting Kargan with crimson mist. Kargan hit him again and again, softening his flesh and destroying his body with his powerful fists. The inquisitor never asked a single question never said a single word, just beat the dwarf over and over until blood flowed freely from too many wounds to count. Then he carefully took his bloody gloves off and slowly put them back in his belt.

He turned silently and walked out of the room. He nodded to two waiting inquisitors standing at ridged attention just outside the door. They moved into the room to question the softened dwarf. He'll talk now. He did. It didn't take long before the two inquisitors had more than enough evidence to convict and publicly execute the dwarf and to banish members of his family.

The nightmares came for Kargan that night, but that was a small price to pay to make the city a safer place.