Page 116 of Forged in Fading

He took one large breath and placed his palm over the ugly symbol. It disappeared, and the mountain shuddered. One of the sailors clapped, and the others cursed, jabbing the man with their elbows.

The slab of stone slid away, revealing a dark passageway lined with flickering torches. Alvara swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped into the darkness. This journey had been her idea after all—she should lead the way if they were going to face any danger.

She crept through the humid air, ducking to avoid scraping her head on the low ceiling. The heat only intensified as she approached a wider opening.

Filled with armed dwarves.

“This is your time to shine,” Alvara said to Boden over her shoulder.

She lifted her hands in front of her body, palms out, and stepped into the cavern, where she could thankfully stand at her full height. The dwarves moved in unison, encircling their small group with various blades whose sharpness exceeded even that of the elves’.

The dwarf shoving an axe in Alvara’s face barked something, and she reached her hand behind her to pinch Boden, who yelped.

The Dwarvish left his lips at an excruciating pace, and even Alvara could tell he was butchering the delivery. Every dwarf in the room scrunched their brows and whispered to each other.

They were doomed.

“If you cannot speak Dwarvish properly, spare us the dramatics. I am Skeggox.” A male dwarf, slightly taller and wider than the others, stepped into view.

Gods damn it, Boden. Alvara bowed and aimed her voice at the stone floor. “Pardon my friend, he meant no disrespect. We are here to ask for help.”

“Stand. We only bow for our king. Groveling will get you nowhere.”

She righted herself, and Skeggox slid his eyes up and down her frame, as if calculating how many swings of his weapon it would take to hack her to pieces.

“We do not interfere with your kind. Many have come in search of weapons for power, destruction.” He tapped his axe on the ground. “We work for the gods.”

“Please,” Alvara said. “The king of Ela possesses the blade of Helvati. Not only has he destroyed the magic barrier, but he’s also going to attack the human realm. Who knows what he could do next.”

Murmurs bounced off the cavern walls, and Skeggox pointed his weapon at Alvara’s chest. “Vitharen’s bones, how do you know of this blade?”

“We’ve seen it,” she said.

Boden nodded. “He carries it with him wherever he goes.”

Skeggox tugged on the handful of braids in his beard. “You may meet with the king. Though I would not have hope, if I were you.”

Another guard clamped his hand around her arm without a word and tugged her after Skeggox into the heart of the dwarven kingdom.

An entire civilization carved from stone. There were buildings piled on top of each other, nestled into the sides of the cavern walls, with intricate winding pathways crossing over great ravines and connecting every section with another. So many glorious weapons glinted in the torchlight, strapped to the chests and hips of every dwarf—male, female, or youngling—that walked the streets.

Skeggox led them up a sweeping set of stairs lined with stone statues at least four times Alvara’s height, each depicting a different dwarf king of old. Across a long and narrow bridge sat the current king, clad in golden armor and a crown. His throne was even taller than the statues they had passed along the way.

His white hair had been shaved on the sides, and what remained was pulled into a tight bun at the back of his head. He easily had the thickest and longest beard she had ever seen, and his body was made entirely of hulking muscle. She had no doubt he could kill a man with a single punch. Or an elf.

All of the dwarves knelt in his presence. Alvara and Boden followed suit, heads bowed. Whispers bounced off the cavern walls, though the Dwarvish meant nothing to her.

“Rise,” the king said, and they both did as commanded, while Skeggox whispered in the monarch’s ear. “Skeggox tells me you have come for aid. This king you speak of, you are confident he has Helvati’s blade?”

“We’re sure,” Alvara said. “And the human weapons aren’t enough to fight against magic. They don’t have the right metals available to craft the same weaponry that the elves can, let alone the dwarves. We are asking for any help you can offer. And any information on what powers the blade might grant King Einar.”

The dwarf king’s brown eyes bore holes all the way through to the back of her head and slowly traveled down to her ears. His fingers paused their twisting of his braided beard, and he rose from his throne and moved toward her as if entranced. “Your earrings…” He reached out a hand and touched one of her mother’s earrings. Alvara flinched. “These were made by the gods, before our kind learned how to work with metal.”

“Made by the gods?” No, they were just an old family heirloom. Alvara stood about two fingerbreadths away from his face, but she didn’t dare move.

“The metal speaks to me. How did you come by these?”

She instinctively dragged her fingers over one of the earrings. “They were my mother’s.”