Legend of the Runeforger: A Dwarven Progression Fantasy

I can’t help myself: I scream out as I fall. Abruptly the blackness turns to ghostly green, then just as abruptly my scream is cut off as lukewarm water forces itself into my mouth. I splash upward, spit it out. A troll grabs me by the arm and pulls me up onto the damp stone of their abode. Its mouth is twisted into something that almost passes for a smile.

My nose is assailed by the acrid stench of troll and the pungent smell of rotten meat. The loud grunting and squelching of troll-speech and the thumps and roars of territorial squabbles batter at my ears. All is lit green from the algae on the floor, coating the ceiling far above, and permeating the water. I see gray-green trolls either in loincloths or nothing, green-slime, and the pale green of froth churned up by those fighting and playing in emerald water. At one far end of the cavern is a great pile of a squishy-looking material. It might be red meat, but looks gray.

“Come on,” says the interpreter. “Get you somewhere quieter.”

He pulls me and Hayhek along through the crowds of trolls. I take a moment to look around and get a general understanding of the layout of the grotto. It’s a lenticular cavern angled so that half of it sinks underwater. The cut-out cylinder I splashed down into is a hole cut into the dry land—I wonder if it also links to the underwater part.

In the center of the dry half stands a large cube of stone, reverently clear of trolls for a whole twenty feet around.

The interpreter leads us into a tunnel at the left of the cavern. Inside is a set of oversized stairs which we clamber up into a small, relatively dry chamber. It would be the perfect abode if not for the hard stone floor, complete lack of furnishings, and the fact that more than half the space is taken up by a stack of dried green sheets.

Still, I’m grateful. No amphidons or even tentacle beasts are going to make their way past the horde of trolls between us and the river. I lean Heartseeker against the wall and put my gauntlets down beside it.

“This is best place for you,” says the interpreter. “Dry, quiet.”

“What’s this?” asks Hayhek, running a finger down the side of the dried algae. “I thought trolls ate meat.”

“We do. But this is extra. My idea, like meat but easier to find.”

“Can dwarves eat it?” he asks. “Not that I would presume to take any without permission.”

“I don’t know. Maybe safer to have meat. We prepare some for you later.”

He turns to leave us.

“Wait,” I say. “What’s your name? Do you have one?”

He smiles, grin stretching across his overly wide face.

“Most trolls no names. But I have one. Gave it to myself.”

“What is it? I’m Zathar, and this is Hayhek.”

“Interesting. Second hard pronounce for me maybe. But mine is easy to say and remember both! Dwatrall!” He chuckles. “Could think nothing better. Maybe choose new later, maybe not.”

“It’s a fine name,” Hayhek says. “You’re not... Half dwarf, are you?”

Dwatrall chuckles again. “No such thing possible. I’m special for other reason. Maybe you learn at meal. For now though, rest.”

“Gladly. Thank you for everything, Dwatrall.”

“Thank you,” I say also.

“Welcome.”

He stomps down the steps and vanishes back into the main cavern. Hayhek and I slump back against the wall. We’re totally exhausted—the trip down from the river was not a short one, and the shocking noise and smell and sheer weirdness of the situation we’re in are taking their mental toll as well.

Soon he is snoring and me also. For once I see no dreams, just sink into relaxing blackness. When I wake up, I notice that some of the sheets of algae have been cut away, and this more than anything reassures me that the trolls are not going to eat us. I sink back into sleep until I wake once more, feeling a great deal fresher, apart from the fatigue in my legs and emptiness in my belly.

Where to go from here, though, after we're fed? I better start thinking now. If our plan is to make our way up the caverns and into the stalagmite forest, we need to forge. We can’t rely on the trolls for protection the whole way: even if they were willing, there’s worse than trolls down here. No, we need to forge. Magma for heat will be readily available, but metals and reagent... Where can we find enough of those?

I spend a long hour in fruitless thought until Dwatrall returns. I shake Hayhek to wake him; he sits up, startled, eyes red with tears from sad dreams which he rubs away.

“Mealtime?” I ask.

“Yes," says Dwatrall. "Follow.”

We follow him into the main cavern where the trolls have already begun to eat. Dinner time seems to be rather more organized than the rest of their activities—they sit in circles with the food at the center, and take turns tearing off chunks, which they chew and finally swallow when their turn to take another piece comes around again. Most of the meat seems to be the rubbery flesh of the tentacle beast—the rest of the hunters must have returned while we slept. I can see their hooked ropes hung up to dry on a far wall.

“We prepared special meal for you,” says Dwatrall proudly. “And we eat with chief.”

He leads us to a circle of trolls seated just in front of the large stone cube I noticed earlier. The chief, who I’m pretty sure is the one who killed the tentacle beast, though their faces all look pretty much the same to me, leans against it as he chews a meaty mass. Blood drips from his thick lips and spatters on the floor.

He takes the food out his mouth to grunt at us.

“He says sit.”

There’s a space open in the circle for us and we sit down. The acridly stinking mass of the troll on my right, and the unidentifiable chunks of hairy skin and gray-looking flesh in front of us would put me off my appetite in most circumstances, but right now I’m famished.

“Take a piece,” Dwatrall says. “We diced some parts up small.”

I gladly take a chunk and put it in my mouth. It’s not tentacle beast, and it’s not amphidon either, since neither of those had black hairs, which I have to spit out. It’s slimy on account of it not being cooked, but all things considered it’s not so bad—tastes a bit like bloody pork.

Our turn comes around several times. Usually I’m not done chewing by the time it does, and have to skip taking a new chunk. Nevertheless, gradually I fill up my belly until my stomach feels packed to the brim.

I tell Dwatrall I’m done. He interprets, and the chief grunts in what might be a tone of approval.

“He says good food for you. Give you great strength, recovery.”

“What was it?” I ask.

Dwatrall smiles. “Of course was dwarf. Troll best food for troll, make very strong, so of course dwarf best food for dwarf. Only logical.”

My stomach roils violently. My eyes widen in horror. The meat was too cut up for me to realize at first, but on proper examination Dwatrall is unmistakably telling the truth. He isn't playing a prank. One of the pieces the troll beside me is just putting into his mouth is a deboned, denailed hand.

Hayhek turns around and vomits noisily.

“You said you didn't eat dwarf,” I say weakly. I tense my belly and throat to try and keep my nausea down. The trolls are looking at Hayhek in confusion—I hope they don’t think we’re being ungrateful.

“We not hunt dwarves,” says Dwatrall. “Many fall down very recent. Not eating is waste. And good strength for you.”

“Of course... Just, we don’t usually eat dwarves.”

“Never,” Hayhek croaks. “Never.”

“Never?” asks Dwatrall.

“No. It’s... Not the done thing. But we’re not ungrateful!” I hurriedly add. “You had no way of knowing.”

Dwatrall scratches his head. “I see. When I watch dwarves, they often eat meat they brought down. I thought maybe dwarf meat for strength.”

“Usually boar,” I say. “Or cow, or lizard.”

He nods. “New knowledge for me. Thank you.”

The chief troll grunts at him, likely asking what’s going on. Dwatrall grunts back somewhat sheepishly, and the chief troll lets out a phlegmy laugh.

“It still food he says,” says Dwatrall. “He does not understand problem. But you can eat different next meal.”

“Thanks,” Hayhek says, turning back to the circle with his eyes shut tight.

“Do you eat your own kind often, then?” I ask Dwatrall. “I hope I’m not being rude, but it’s strange to us.”

“Yes. Best strength for us is from troll.”

“I suppose those who lose fights get eaten.”

“If damage beyond healing, yes. Or mangled on hunt also. Great... honor.”

“I see.”

“But dwarves eat food hot, no?”

“Usually.”

“Hmm. There is magma near here. You can eat there next.”

“Very near here? We need magma very badly.” I gesture at my body. “We’re not strong like you. We need to forge armor and weapons.”

“I know this. Dwarves very clever at fixing their weaknesses. We want this knowledge also. Will help you get metal too.”

“You will? That would be a great help.”

“Much metal fall in from rock-path up high. Dwarf armor and blades too.” He scratches his head. “You could just take that. No need to forge.”

“No,” Hayhek says, his eyes still closed. “You can’t use another’s equipment. It has to be something of your own sweat. Even melting down others’ equipment is frowned upon as well.”

“Frowned upon? Not good?” asks Dwatrall. “A waste, I think.”

“It will be from our enemies,” I say. “Technically we have a right to do what we want with it.”

"That is sensible."

“Yes,” I say, nodding. “Iron from the ram, and some better metals from Broderick’s forces. With magma for heating, we can forge. Reagent might be tricky though.”

“Reagent?” says Dwatrall. “What does that mean?”

“Magic rock. For grafting the runes.”

He looks puzzled.

“The symbols on our armor are runes. They make us more powerful.”

“Interesting knowledge. I will learn too.”

“Forging new equipment will take a while though,” Hayhek warns. “How long can we stay with you?”

For a few minutes Dwatrall converses with the chief, whose tone seems to be one of great enthusiasm.

“We are very keen for knowledge of metal,” Dwatrall says, turning back to us. “You stay as long as you like. I want more knowledge of speech also.”

“Really?” I exclaim. I can’t quite believe our luck. “As long as we like? And you’ll give us the metal? For free?”

“Yes. Not for free, though: on condition you teach me. We can help find this reagent too.”

“Great.”

I pause and think hard. We have something they need. We’re in a stronger position than I thought. Could I push my luck a little further, perhaps..?

No! I thought I told myself to give up on it. That my goal was to get Hayhek back up to the surface. Having one goal doesn’t have to mean I lose my other, though. And this is my chance!

I decide I have to try.

“There is another thing we... I want.”

“Yes?”

“I lost something in the river. A key, diamond and very long. Your people can swim. If you can bring it back for me, I’d be very grateful. Extremely grateful. Truly grateful.”

Dwatrall frowns. “Where in the river?”

“Before the island you found us on. I’m not sure how far before.”

“I see. I will ask.”

He turns to talk to the chief. This time around, the massive troll’s tone is not so enthusiastic.

“The deep bottom of the river extremely dangerous,” Dwatrall says to me. “A big ask.”

“I would be in your debt. I’ll teach you everything we know. And if that isn’t enough... Really, I’ll do anything you need,” I beg. “That key is very important to me. As much as my life.”

Dwatrall turns back to the chief to discuss further. Hayhek glares at me, eyes open now and angry.

“Why, Zathar?”

“I need it.”

“My Yezakh died because of that key, and you’re still chasing after it?”

“I... I still need it. If there’s even the barest chance I can get it back, I have to try!”

He leans in closer. His eyes are dark. “What is that key, Zathar?”

“Something I need!” I snap.

He backs off, but I can tell he isn’t satisfied. At some point I’ll have to tell him, and I don’t like to imagine his reaction.

This time Dwatrall’s conversation with the chief is long. Several of the other trolls join in, waving their arms violently, jabbing fingers. The conversation has become an argument. One troll stands up and thumps his chest, and the chief has to slap him down. He falls with a crash. I feel warmth at my back, the troll stench intensifies, and I look around and see that trolls from the other circles have crowded in to listen and watch intently.

“Dwatrall!” I shout to get his attention. “It’s not trouble if you can’t get it for me! Really, no trouble!”

I’m ignored. The argument continues, grows louder, until finally a roar from the chief and a stomp that shakes the stone brings silence. He looks down on me and Hayhek and speaks.

Dwatrall translates: “Your ask is great. In return, we have another great ask.”