The Dwarven Sorcerer

The Dwarven Sorcerer Ch 25

Durim stood outside the door of his house, a bouquet of wildflowers he picked in the mountains in one hand and a gold necklace he spent too much on in the other. He took a deep breath and prepared himself to tell his wife that their only child was alone, outside in the world, on his way into an unknown land to find a college full of dangerous wizards to ask them to remove a life-threatening curse from his body.

Should be easy enough. He took a deep breath, by the gods he was so scared.

Durim closed his eyes and steadied his hands before reaching for the door handle. Suddenly, his face was smashed hard into the stone door. He felt his nose break, his glass eye-lens crack, and a few of his teeth get knocked loose. He was momentarily blinded by the pain, and he felt warm blood pour down his face and wet his beard. "Gah." The flowers and necklace were knocked free from his hands where they were trampled under the heavy boots of his assailants.

He tried to push away but a strong hand pressed him firmly against the door. More hands grabbed him and twisted his arms behind his back nearly dislocating his shoulder. "Get yer fucking hands off of me," growled Durim.

He felt the cold steel of manacles clamp onto his wrists. The hand on the back of his head released him.

"You bloody cowards," he spat.

He was roughly turned around and thrown against the door. Four dwarves dressed in the uniform of the inquisition, including the largest dwarf he had ever seen, had him.

"This him?" asked one of the inquisitors.

The giant dwarf nodded.

"Durim Kragsson, you are placed under arrest in the name of the inquisition," said one of the inquisitors.

Durim looked at them defiantly and spat a bloody tooth onto the ground.

"Bring him to Mordin," said the giant.

. . .

The chair dug into his flesh but didn't pierce it. Durim had been chained to the witch's chair for hours, waiting in the dimly lit room for something to happen. He shifted his weight, trying to relieve some of the pain on one side, only to find more spikes to jab him. His face was swollen and heavily bruised. He was in a right foul mood.

The room filled with bright light as the door opened and the albino walked in. He sat across from Durim without a word. For a long time, neither dwarf said anything,as Durim shifting in a futile attempt to ease his discomfort.

"Let's just get this bloody thing over with," said Durim finally.

"What exactly are we going to get over with?" asked Mordin.

"You're going to ask me some stupid bloody questions I'm going to tell you to stick 'em up your arse, you're going to hit me, or get one of your cronies to do it, then I'll tell you to go fuck yerself. So I'll just skip to the end: Go fuck yerself," said Durim.

Mordin smiled. "Where's your son?"

Durim shrugged, "Dunno, he was hunting the last time I saw him."

"Ah yes, the infamous hunting passes. Why aren't you with him now? Don't you enjoy hunting?" Asked Mordin.

Durim did his best to shrug nonchalantly, but the chair made the movement awkward. "I ain't exactly a young dwarf no more, eh? Can't keep up like I used to. Besides, I missed sleeping in my own bed next to me wife. No idea what that's like, do ya? Sharing yer bed with a loving wife?"

Mordin smiled, "he's hunting?"

"Aye, that's what I bloody said."

Mordin looked at him, his red eyes burrowing into Durim, "hunting? What a load of bollocks. Where is your son?"