Dawn of Dusk

“Citizen Stonpiker, you are charged with malfeasance in office for allowing the citizens of Vermath to be harmed by an outside enemy. You sat by and allowed these attacks to take place unobstructed and while there is no direct evidence it is believed by members of this august body, that you actively supported these attacks. Since we have been unable to find any evidence of treason, you are not to be sentenced to death, you are Umligath. For your sentence of malfeasance, you are no longer considered a Dwarf by this body. You are stripped of all rights as a citizen of Vermath; you shall have two weeks to leave the Vermathian Mountains.

Where you go from here is not our concern. You may go to Drathmire, to Arborlea, or to the Lands of Men. If you are found again in the lands of the Dwarves, it shall be assumed that you are here to create an uprising amongst us and you will be sentenced to death.

You will leave this country taking with you, the clothes you wear, a day’s, ration of food and a day’s ration of water. If you survive, then it is the will of the Gods of Karron and your life as a human (or whatever you choose to call yourself) will be at their grace.

As all convicted criminals are allowed, you may address this body before the sentence goes into effect. Your comments will be put into the record of this trial and made public knowledge but it will not be put into publication. You may now speak.”

“As I begin my remarks, I will remind you, Cadot Tunelmakre, that I can say anything I desire and there is to be no interruption by the members of this body. I also remind you that since my heritage and name are being stricken from Dwarfdom, these words are to be treated as a deathbed confession.

“I petition that my words not only be made public record, but that they are published in the Dwarven Dispatch.”

“Denied!”

Iroc Dimindcatre spoke up and said, “Cadot Tunelmakre, Citizen Stonpiker has been a Dwarf of no small notoriety in Vermath. He is being sent away with his life, but little to live on, and even less to live for.

“While I agree that he did not handle the crisis in a way befitting a Cadot, nevertheless to exile him without a word to the public is, well, just wrong. I recommend that the Dwarven Dispatch be Given the speech along with the trial information and the sentencing - word for word. After all, the trial lasted less than an hour.”

Murmurs of assent followed her recommendation. Tunelmakre, able to read the mood of the Iroc High Council after being a member for over a decade, decided to consent rather than lose on a vote.

“Your points are well taken Iroc Dimindcatre. Citizen Stonpiker, your request is granted, in addition, the records of your trial and sentencing shall be given to the newspaper to print what they feel is newsworthy in this week’s issue.”

Stonpiker nodded to Dimindcatre and nodded as he said, “Thank-you. I want to say a few things about my trial. Public sentiment was stirred up against me prior to my trial that I was unable to procure legal counsel. Not a single Dwarven attorney would defend me at my trial; I know I tried them all. The public sentiment that was stirred up was to punish someone. It didn’t matter who, so long as someone was punished.

“Well, as Cadot, I may have done some things wrong, but I did not stand by and allow our children to be killed and taken by an outside source. Our enemy is within. All the evidence to the disappearance of the three children was circumstantial. A spell from Gnome magic that was previously unheard of was found in the tunnel that killed Vassel Gemkutre. Don’t minimize the death of the Vassel, I certainly don’t, but how do we know if the magick really was from a Gnome?

“We know that Elves can duplicate goblin magic, maybe someone or something, maybe even a Dwarf, can duplicate this as well. No one is trying to find out about the ‘Magick.’ All this council, and more specifically the new Cadot has been interested in, is destroying me. Since my impeachment and arrest, have any more children disappeared? No! Have there been any more incursions of alien magick? Again, no!

“There has been great presumption that I have been involved in some conspiracy. I have served on the Iroc High Council for years and four terms as Cadot. Those of you here who know me well, know that I am a hard negotiator and a difficult taskmaster, but never dishonest. I would never be so stupid as to allow myself to be implicated in such a blatant fraud.

“You are now preparing for war, this is madness. We will do nothing but slaughter our young Dwarves. You cannot defeat the combined armies of Dwarves, Goblins, and Trolls. To even attempt to convince the Dwarven people of this is proof of madness, but what bothers me most is that you have all fallen for it.

“Think about it, the then Iroc Tunelmakre is trying to wrest the Cadot’s seat from me and children start disappearing. Then at the very moment the Iroc High Council sustains me, we get notice that some previously unknown magick has killed an adult Dwarf. Suddenly, I am named conspirator by the man who stood to gain the most by my discredit.

“Since then, the disappearances have stopped, the unique magick has vanished and Iroc Tunelmakre is now Cadot Tunelmakre and his term will be just short enough that he can run for reelection. Finding the children and their abductors has been forgotten, and we go ahead at unprecedented speed into preparations for an invasion of Drathmire.

“We haven’t even asked the Men or the Elves to help us. Why? Because we have nothing to go on. All we have is a Dwarf or Dwarves who have murdered for personal gain and power.

“On my honor as a servant of the Dwarven People, I swear as on my deathbed confession that I had nothing to do with this and the Dwarves responsible are now in charge. We have placed the thieves in charge of the diamond mine. I just hope that the Dwarven Race will survive.

“If you come to your senses, and want me back, I will go first to the lands of Men. The Duchy of Cryarlac, where I can still see my beloved mountains. If I can find sanctuary there, I will stay there, if not, I will move on and leave a trail. I hold no malice to those who acted on their conscience and did what they thought was best for the Dwarves. For those who are involved in this insidious plot, of which I name Cadot Tunelmakre as the leader, I call the wrath of the Gods of Karron upon your heads. I am as much a victim as the children and the Vassel. The Gods will distribute final justice.

“I am grateful to those who refused to allow my murder. May the Gods bless their lives. I will survive with one day’s food and water. I am a Dwarf! I have been in battles that went on for days without stopping. I wasn’t back in the tents planning; I was in the front of the battle killing invaders.

“My biggest disappointment is not in being exiled, it is that the Dwarven people and most of the members of this council, who know me better than any in this world, could believe any of that which I have been found guilty.”

He looked each member directly in the eye, and none would return his gaze. He shook his head sadly.

“None of you can look at me, yet I understand. I stand before you members of the Iroc High Council condemned by your voice. I am ready to receive my fate. I’ll speak never more to another Dwarf. With the exception of a possible exoneration in a new trial, I am Umligath to the Dwarven Race. Stonpiker lives no more.”

Cadot Tunelmakre was white with rage, but he could not make a rebuttal by law. He stood and raised his arms.

“Rocbrakre, bring his rations.”

Rocbrakre brought him a bota of water and a satchel of food. He handed them to Stonpiker with a slight wink. Stonpiker thanked him and turned to face the council. One by one the council members turned their backs on him. The last to turn away was Iroc Dimindcatre. As she turned away, Stonpiker saw tears in her eyes. He turned and patted Rokbrakre, his former friend, on the back and walked out the door of the chamber.

The city had been informed of his exile. As he walked down the streets, those who knew his face turned their backs on him. Irnmekre, his former wife came up to him and hugged him, kissed him on the cheek, and then turned her back on him. He was grateful for the gesture; for he knew the trouble she could receive, both from her present husband and Cadot Tunelmakre.

As he walked out of the city he wondered what it was she had slipped into his pockets when she hugged him. He hoped it was something that could help him survive the next few weeks.

It was a good two months to Cryarlac on foot probably more like two and one half with no supplies, and an easy week and one half to Drathmire. Tunelmakre had no way to lose. If Stonpiker went to Drathmire where it is likely he could arrive still living, he would either be imprisoned or executed. If he tried to get to Cryarlac, especially this time of year, he would likely die of hunger, thirst, and exposure.

He stopped and reached into his pocket. On one side of his pants, the pocket had a ball of twine and some fishhooks. The other side had a flint and steel. He opened his satchel. In it was a loaf of bread and some dried cheese, but it weighed more than bread and cheese should weigh.

He resumed his trek, as he got further into the day he sat down and began to eat some of the bread and cheese. He found that a dagger had been baked within the bread. He took the dagger out and fastened it on his belt. He got his bota out to drink some water and found some fine stainless steel wire had been put inside. He took it out coiled it up, and placed it around his shoulder. At least he had the opportunity now to survive for a few weeks. He could fish, build a fire, snare animals, and he had something to defend himself with.

Now he felt he really could make it to Cryarlac. Hopefully Duke Vistyral would be there. He knew Vistyral well, and knew that the Dwarves needed Vistyral’s ore as much as Vistyral needed the Dwarven trade. He didn’t doubt that Tunelmakre would try and get Vistyral to deny him sanctuary. If Vistyral was not there, Tunelmakre’s plan might succeed. He knew that there were humans who were as small as Dwarves, but their bodies were different. A Dwarf’s body was the same size as a human’s but their arms and legs were shorter, stronger, and more built for carrying heavy loads. Midgets were the same proportions as Men only smaller.

Even though he wouldn’t really pass for a midget, he would present himself as one. The name Stonpiker was Gone now. He needed a name of the Men. He thought and decided upon, Vermountel to remind him of the Vermath Mountains where the Dwarves live. He never wanted to forget that they were his people, and even though they had cast him out, he needed to do what he could to help them.

When he reached Cryarlac, he would try and get some clothes like Men wear rather than his obviously Dwarven attire. He bit into the cheese and got a surprise. Rocbrakre had filled the cheese with cut gems; diamonds, rubies, emeralds, alexandrite, and sapphires. He put them in a pouch that had held the cheese and put them in his pocket. At least he wouldn’t be a beggar, not if he survived.

He reached the top of a fairly tall mountain. In every direction, as far as he could see, were mountain tops. He imagined himself in the mouth of a dragon, with teeth expanding out in every direction. Involuntarily he looked up to see if he could see the upper teeth and then he laughed at himself.

He knew if he headed south he would run into the Cryarlac River. Stronghold, Duke Vistyral’s residence was on that river. The Cryarlac River started up in the Vermath Mountains as snow runoff and became a river large enough for the Men to sail full size ships down.

He remembered back when he was young, he would spend days, even weeks out in the mountains during his time in the army. Now he realized he had let himself grow soft. He would have to get that toughness back if he was to survive. Water would not be a problem; there was plenty of it in the snow if you had fire to melt it. If you ate ice or snow, you cooled down your core temperature to the point that exposure could kill you in a few hours.

The only thing he had to melt anything in was the bota. He could take a small stick and stuff snow down into the bota and then hang it over the fire to melt the snow. The problem was, if he got the bota too warm so as to crack the leather and make it start leaking, he would be doomed. He would be very careful.

At the end of the first day he was cold, tired, sore, and hungry. It could have been worse, though, he might not have the many things that Rocbrakre and Irnmekre had given him he stopped by a small lake, broke ice off the top, took some cheese, kneaded in some water and fashioned around a hook. He tied the hook to the fish line which he had also tied to the end of a fairly long green stick. He caught several trout which he put to roast over a fire he had made along with the bota of almost freezing water he had taken from the lake.

After he had eaten and drunk his fill, he put four cooked fish in the satchel his bread and cheese had come in. He still had a little cheese and a full bota of water for tomorrow. He found some large leaves and wrapped the fish entrails in to use for fish bait. It wouldn’t smell good, but the smellier it was; the better it was at catching fish.

He went out and set a snare and went to bed. In the mountains, there is little undergrowth. Most of the trees were a variety of pine. He gathered a large pile of pine needles up, laid down on them, and then piled an even larger pile of needles over on top of himself. They were plenty prickly, but they kept him from freezing.

The next morning he used his pine needle blanket to revive the fire that had gone out. Once the fire was going good again, he ate a fish, warmed himself and went to check his snare. Nothing on that snare today, but patience would bring its rewards, eventually.

He set up again, keeping the sun on his left. The morning shadows began to shorten as the morning gave way to midday. He stopped, pulled out some fish, and ate them. He napped for a few minutes in the relative warm of the sunlight. Why had he chosen a life that kept him away from the beauty and majesty of the outdoors, he would never allow himself to remain completely underground as he had during his time of public service, again.

Suddenly he stopped, a chill went through him. He bet down to tie his shoe so he could look behind himself and then he looked back. He saw a goblin hunting party. It looked like about six or seven goblins. It appeared that they had not seen him yet so he moved over behind an outcropping of rock. He checked his back to make sure no one was circling around behind him. His dagger was in his hand when he heard the most frightening sound in his life.

“Stonpiker, come out. We know you are here, because Tunelmakre told us where we could find you. We also know that you are unarmed and have no food or water. My name is Draathe, if you come out, I might let you be my slave, if not, I’ll let you be my dinner.” He laughed showing his blackened teeth that had been filed to a point.

Stonpiker decided that death would be an acceptable alternative to slavery to a goblin. He moved the dagger into his left hand. He wasn’t quite as good left handed, as he was with his right hand, but almost.

He stood, he could smell fear in his sweat, and he stood just far enough out from the rock, to keep his left hand concealed. Draathe came forward while the other Goblins kept their arrows pointing at Stonpiker.

When Draathe got close enough, Stonpiker reached out with his right hand grabbed Draathe by the neck, and pulled him in front of his own body. Six arrows took Draathe’s life as Stonpiker pulled him back behind the rock. Time was now a matter of the essence. He put his knife away and took everything Draathe had. He even ripped the arrows from his body so he could use them with Draathe’s bow that he had taken.

He knocked an arrow into the bow and spun around the rock. Three goblins were half way to him. He let three arrows fly as quickly as he could, grabbed what he had and ran. He realized that he must have hit all three when he made it into some rocks about one hundred yards away.

There were at least three Goblins out there and he had no idea where they were. He decided that his best chance was to keep moving. He decided that up was the way to go so if they followed, he could try and kill them. He started up the rocks that rose three or four hundred feet from where they jutted out of the ground.

He climbed as fast as he could, as quietly as he could, keeping himself as close as he could to the rocks. As he reached a space in the rocks, he saw the three dead goblins; he had killed all of them. One had taken an arrow through the eye, one through the throat and one that had probably just nicked the heart. He had dragged himself for fifty yards or so before he died. One of the other Goblins was taking personal affects off of the bodies; Stonpiker shot him and killed him as well. That left two Goblins minimum.

As he looked around an arrow bounced off the rock just under him. He looked down; both goblins were coming after him with amazing speed. A pile of rocks was just to the left of his feet. He leaned back against the rock braced himself with his left foot and pushed on the rocks.

The rocks broke loose when the goblins were within six feet of him. They hit the climbing goblins full in the face, they both fell. One had a broken neck the other was hurt and Stonpiker finished him off with an arrow. He waited over an hour watching for signs of movement, he saw none. As he climbed down he knew he would have to hide all signs of the conflict so any other Goblin groups wouldn’t follow his trail.

Then he came upon an idea. He went down and shot the six arrows back into Draathe. He left him where he lay. He took most of the personal effects from the three Goblins he had killed on the run and the body of the one he had killed while stealing from the dead. He took everything that he needed from the two goblins that had fallen down the rocks. He carefully climbed up the rocks that he had fled into. He left the body at the place where he had stood. He pushed more rocks over the edge until the other goblins were almost buried in rock. He dropped the personal effects of the robbed goblins at the feet of the one he had brought to the top of the rocks. He studied the scene; it looked as if the goblins had all killed Draathe and then killed each other fighting over the loot. Burying the two Goblins under a rock slide should hide what he had taken from the lot of them.

Before he left the area he made sure that all of his footprints were erased. He then left the area, walking on rock whenever possible. He had a fur coat now, if he had to go a night without a fire, he should be able to survive the night.

He took inventory and had string with six fish hooks, a dagger, a short sword, a pot; even though it was filthy it would help melt snow after he had cleaned it up good. He had a short bow and fourteen arrows, assorted gems, a fur coat that was so large it was almost a dress and a warm hat. He hadn’t touched their food, there was no telling, what it was. He had more fish, some cheese, some steel wire, and fish entrails. He had taken a blanket from one of the goblins, and a double thick leather pouch that was waterproof that held most of his items. He also had his bota of water. Except for food, he was fairly well equipped.

Since he had no idea if the arrows he had were poison tipped he decided that he couldn’t use them to hunt for food. He removed two tips, and replaced them with rocks that he had found that would meet his requirement for arrowheads. With those two arrows he could hunt for game.