Engines of Alchemancy (The Alchemancer Book One)

Chapter 7. Promises

THE DWARVES LED THEIR CAPTIVES deep into the Grey Hills to a wooded ravine so secluded Shanna thought it the last place anyone might think to look for them. They gained entry by stepping through a dark-as-pitch maw that was formed only by accident, as everywhere else a snarl of vines and tree branches sealed the place up as if a wall surrounded it. Inside, perimeter guards manning their posts without the warmth of a fire rose from crouches to greet them. They said nothing as the bound captives were dragged past them. Shanna thought she heard the sounds of a camp, but it was too dark to tell for sure. They were led to a trio of prison wagons, two of which were already full of other captives. The third wagon was empty, but not for long as the dwarves undid their prisoners' bindings and ushered them inside. With that done, all but three of the dwarves left, heading for the center of their secret refuge. The three who remained huddled together, muttering in subdued voices and only occasionally chuckling at some jibe or joke told by another. Hours passed until dawn's first glimmering just cast a pale glamor throughout the hollow. Only then did Shanna see the dozen or so tents at the center of the hideout. Dwarves milled about all the tents save for the largest, which was set so far apart from the others that one could hardly help notice the void around it. It was a void, too, a zone of inactivity that dwarves not only avoided, but purposely shied from. Where the other, smaller tents flew various insignia, this one flew nothing: no colored banners, no pennants, no flags. It was sealed tight, too, with no one coming or going. Most distinct of all, Shanna saw a pair of guards too tall to be dwarves standing on either side of the sealed flap.

Shanna's inspection was interrupted when, without announcement or ceremony, their guards began unlocking all three of the cages and shouting for the prisoners to come out and form a line. As they did, a light drizzle fell. Most of the refugees were dressed in nightclothes paired with an odd assortment of hastily thrown on tunics, pants, gowns, or shirts. Already shivering, the rain's first touch sent a visible shudder across them all. The dwarves paid no attention to this as they went about ordering the formation of the refugees. One guard gestured toward the main part of the encampment. Shanna followed the line of his finger, seeing nothing in particular except for a single dwarf, who at this distance looked no different from the others as he strode through the heart of the camp. No retinue followed him. No one jumped out of his way or saluted as he passed. Still, there was purpose in his stride as he made for Shanna and the others. The moment he reached the trio of guards, he addressed the one who had pointed.

"Keln, how went the hunt?"

Right away, Shanna saw that this dwarf was indeed different from the others. His clothes—leather breeches and a loose-fitting shirt that clung to him from the damp—were cleaner and of a finer cut. Long, blondish-red hair was pulled back straight from his forehead and must have reached halfway to his waist, if not further. His beard was braided and neatly groomed, though littered with drops of moisture now. As thick of body as any of the others, surliness ruled the dwarf's narrowed brow and steel-blue eyes. But there was thoughtfulness there, too, especially as he looked past the one named Keln to sweep his gaze across the prisoners.

Keln did not answer right away. Instead, he briefly studied the other. His examination started and ended with the great 'something' slung across the other's back. Something, Shanna thought, because whatever it was, it was wrapped fully in a thick layer of cloth, making it impossible to tell if it was a weapon or something else entirely.

"You have it, then?" Keln said, the braids of his beard swaying as he gestured with his chin at the weapon.

"Yes," the other replied. "I have it and, with it, leadership of the clan."

Again, silence, until Keln said, "Yet you do not bear it proudly. Why is that, brother?"

"Because," the other said, his voice suddenly a rumbling landslide, "it is an accursed thing and you know it."