Over the next few days, Cal roamed throughout Queen Sefwyn’s realm. His insatiable curiosity compelled him to learn all the secrets that the dwarves would allow him to discover. With Bodelic as his guide, he toured throughout the dwarf warren. He explored the various guildhalls deep in the Artisan’s Stemm, each devoted to a separate skill; he wandered through new projects under construction by Architects and gaped in wonder at both their efficiency and the undeniable beauty of their craft. He even viewed the secret mountain vales where Farmers painstakingly cultivated crops alien to Cal’s human eyes.
Throughout all his wanderings, the sheer number of machines amazed him: from the large and powerful to the delicate and intricate, every Stemm used devices that seemed to run all by themselves. When he asked Bodelic about the gears that turned by “magic", the Miner laughed and said, “The answer lies at the heart of our realm. Perhaps the Queen will allow you access. I shall inquire.”
Four days later, Bodelic waited for Calidon in the humans’ suite and, when all the other men were out of earshot, quietly commanded, “Come, with me.”
Puzzled at his friend’s odd manner, the young man followed the dwarf as he led Cal through the warren once more. This time, however, Bodelic entered a strange, cage-like contraption that Cal had passed before, but had never been allowed to observe closely. He started in shock when Bodelic pulled a lever, causing the entire cage to sink into the ground at a controlled rate.
”’Tis an elevator,” commented the dwarf, as if he had explained the matter.
As Cal looked up to the top of the device, he could see a great shaft stretch far above his head. The cage suspended from what looked to be ropes made from twisted metal looped onto grooved wheels at the top of the machine. I am glad the platform blocks the view beneath my feet. I’d have a heart attack if I could see the distance that this thing could fall.
The device came to a halt with a slight screech from metal gears. Bodelic unlocked the cage and then stepped out into an enormous chamber lit with blazing lamps. The roaring sounds from a huge volume of running water assaulted his ears. Cal gasped. Laid out before him was a vast network of dams and water channels, with enormous wheels spinning in the flow.
Cal had seen humans use water wheels to power grain mills, but he never imagined that a complex like this dwarvish network was even possible. He now knew where the dwarves’s obtained the "magic" to turn their gears. He could not fathom how the dwarves used the water wheels to power machines far above, but knew they had to be the source.
Queen Sefwyn shouted, “Behold the greatest achievement of my realm!” The dwarf Queen’s voice only dimly carried over the flowing water and spinning waterwheels.
Cal’s head snapped up, and spied the Queen standing far above him on a central stone platform some twenty ells high, across a wide expanse of churning metal shafts attached to the water wheels. She stood behind what appeared to be some kind of panel with multiple metal levers. Queen Sefwyn waved him up, and pointed to a stone staircase built into the side of the platform.
Bodelic led Cal through the maze of mechanical shafts to the staircase. After Cal climbed the long stair and finally stood at the Queen’s side, he enjoyed a view of Sefwyn’s entire network.
Four great reservoirs at each corner of the room towered above the control center by at least fifty ells, each supplied by aqueducts carrying water from mountain rivers. Sluice ports lined the bottom of the reservoirs, allowing the controller to regulate the flow.
The Queen proudly demonstrated how she could open portals in the holding pools to either direct the water to treatment silos for purification, or into any combination of twelve segmented channels that exited the room. The purification process allowed the dwarves to ensure they had clean drinking water, while the different exit channels had waterwheels to produce power.
“From here,” explained the Queen, “I hold each Stemm to my will by distributing water and power as I see fit. I can even store power by using the waterwheels to coil great springs below and release them at need.”
The Queen demonstrated by tugging on the levers in rapid sequences too quick to follow, while gear networks attached and detached from the waterwheels in turn.
“This place is the heart of my power. Here, I forge unity within my realm.”
Cal looked out from the tower at the four exits to the enormous room, one at each compass point. A deep phalanx of grim Warriors guarded each doorway. Obviously, the Queen protected the control center with her best.
Gods, she makes war on her own people and calls it unity. No wonder she cannot trust her own.
“Your Majesty, why reveal it to me?” asked a bewildered Cal.
Slowly the Queen answered, “Because, young human, you are one born to rule.”
She idly fingered a tiny gem on an elaborate golden abacus hung around her neck, sliding a ruby back and forth with her left forefinger. The gesture reminded Cal of how Alynde used to toy with her Abbindi necklace before she left for the Temple.
The Queen said, “I know you do not understand. If you are patient, I shall explain.”
As Sefwyn gathered her thoughts, Cal noticed that the great shafts cranked even faster and the sound of flowing water grew louder. She raised her voice to compensate for the noise. She asked, “Do you know the reason why our people fought so long ago?”
I doubt she wants to hear that her people were rotted by evil.
He shook his head.
“Our people were great friends for thousands of years. The chronicles of my predecessors are filled with the great things we learned from one another. We taught you to shape metals, the concept of money, stone masonry, architecture and the plow. Meanwhile, humans taught us to plant seeds in the earth, the art of building horse and ox collars, and how to weave cloth from plant and animal fiber.”
The Queen continued, “That list is only a small sample. This very complex might be the last remaining testament to our joint efforts, built with arts both of our people discovered.”
“What happened?”
“The trouble began when human smiths learned to make alloys by melding two or more kinds of metal. Your Empire grew so quickly that it could not mine enough gold and silver to keep trade flowing. Emperor Lindren III solved this problem by mixing tin or lead into your coins. Dwarvish traders grew angry when they discovered this invention, because they believed humans conspired to cheat them with worthless coin. Dwarvish goods rose to prohibitive price levels because we demanded the same amount of pure gold or silver. We dwarves began to amass great wealth.”
Sefwyn concluded, “After the next major famine swept through your Empire, war between our peoples inevitably followed.”
“That is not the tale my people tell,” commented Cal.
“Nor mine, Calidon. I know it only because my predecessors kept careful records. I thought you might not know the tale, because your Empire fell. Your forebears were too busy fighting each another to preserve the memory.”
Does she think I am heir to the Imperial throne?
The clatter from the great crankshafts seemed to grow louder as the Queen’s tale gained intensity. The racket assaulted Cal’s brain, making it difficult to think through the noise. “Our legends say dwarvish sorcerers created the Waterwall. Is this tale true?”
Queen Sefwyn gazed at Cal through an errant tress of hair hanging over her left eye and considered her answer. She turned the question back on Cal, “I have allowed you to see Bodelic use his abilities. What do you believe?”
“I think the legends are true, Your Majesty,” answered Cal. “A thousand mile waterfall appearing in the middle of the sea hardly seems like a natural occurrence—especially when it cuts your enemy’s realm in two. What I do not understand is why your people took such drastic action.”
The roaring water and clanging crankshafts resounded through the giant chamber, the noise oppressing Cal’s ears even more than a moment ago. Sefwyn noticed the change as well. Instead of answering Cal’s question, the frantic Queen shifted levers on her control panel. Nothing seemed to happen.
“What’s wrong,” blurted Cal, forgetting to address her with “Your Majesty”.
“I do not know. I cannot shut off the inflow from the aqueducts. If I cannot stop it, the reservoirs will flood!”
An agitated Artisan ran into the complex from the east entrance, carrying a sledgehammer in his six-fingered hands. He weaved through the crazily pumping machines, his face lined with unaccustomed emotion. “Your Majesty! Disengage the waterwheels!” he shouted, struggling to be heard over the din.
Sefwyn performed another mad series of adjustments to the control panel. Again, nothing happened. “Othmar,” screamed the Queen. “Gather your team. Stop the aqueducts. Jam the intakes from the river if you must. Otherwise, Nidafall will flood and each Stemm will be isolated!”
The old Artisan put one hand to his ear and shook his head. He could not hear the Queen’s high-pitched voice over the noise.
Sefwyn ran down the stairs from the control panel. She gestured to her Artisan, hoping he would somehow understand what she was saying. Cal trailed in her wake.
As she passed the purification silos, a huge, bird-like shape sprang from cover and ran alongside Sefwyn. Before Cal had any chance to warn her, the creature kicked to the side with one of its three-toed claws, sending the dwarf Queen sprawling in a swirl of pale yellow silk.
“Fyglóra! Fyglóra!” screamed Bodelic, identifying a horror whose name Shepherds spoke in terrorized whispers.
The startled Queen looked up at the terrible beast looming over her, as it gave a great cry from its hooked beak—displaying menacing serrated edges. The fyglóra grabbed the helpless Sefwyn with one great foot and slammed her against the ground, while splaying out its short arms to maintain balance.
Höfòngar Thyre, who commanded the nearest Warrior phalanx, saw her Queen’s distress and broke formation; her dwerrow ran after her. Cal instantly recognized they were too far away to save their Queen.
As Cal ran to Sefwyn’s rescue, Othmar made a quick decision. He screamed, “Human!” and heaved his sledge-hammer in Cal’s direction. The formidable squire caught and swung the unfamiliar weapon in one smooth motion. He aimed at the flightless bird’s leg joint. He did not hit the close target squarely, only striking a glancing blow to the creature’s leg.
Cal’s hurried stroke was good enough.
The fyglóra screeched in pain and toppled to the side, dropping the helpless dwarf Queen from its other foot. The agile young man sprang forward as the bird fell, avoiding the heavy monster’s falling body. He windmilled the hammer to smash the bird’s vertebrae, but somehow it evaded the blow and staggered to its feet, favoring its injured leg.
Maht-Hildis help me! That thing must weigh more than fifty stone!
The monster made one frightfully quick lunge with its hooked beak, which Cal barely dodged. He then swung the heavy sledgehammer aiming for the beast’s enormous orange eye. The fyglóra withdrew its head, its roving black pupil catching Cal’s motion at the last possible moment. The blunt hammer slammed into the floor, shattering one of the great flagstones.
At that moment a cloud of flying hand axes hurled by onrushing dwarf Warriors clanged around the fyglóra, its head whipping up to assess the new threat from behind. Cal seized the opportunity created by this distraction to land a crushing blow to the creature’s neck, snapping it with one sick crack.
The fyglóra dropped to the ground like a felled tree. The creature shrieked in confused agony, not knowing what had harmed it. The mad eyes roved while its beak and neck flailed in futile rage, now burdened with a useless body that it could not move. Cal heaved one final overhand blow to the giant bird’s green-feathered crest. The fyglóra’s skull broke open like a cracked egg. Dark red blood oozed from the wound, while slimy gray brains slid onto the floor.
The fyglóra was dead.
There was no time for celebration. Water overflowed the holding pools and crept across the floor. “This attack is no accident. Fyglóri do not inhabit the caverns. You must flee!” shouted Thyre.
The Queen’s hands fell to the jeweled abacus at her breast as her eyes searched her guard commander for the tiniest hint of deceit. He guessed the Queen was assessing the threats to her throne and deciding if her guard captain could be trusted. Now that he saw it from a comfortable distance, Cal thought the abacus was an almost perfect fusion of artistry and analysis.
Bodelic’s staff flared as he moved it in a slow half-circle before him, looking for a dwarf door. Almost immediately, the sound of grinding stone rewarded Bodelic’s effort.
“Your Majesty! The fyglóra came from here!”
The Miner pointed toward a square hole in the floor that should not have been there, with a ramp leading down to what appeared to be a tunnel.
Queen Sefwyn appeared ready to inspect the passage but her guard commander emphatically shook her head. Instead, Höfòngar Thyre sent her Warriors down the tunnel to ensure no more threats lurked in the darkness. The Warriors quickly determined that no ambush waited for the Queen.
”’Tis a Huróin, Your Majesty,” commented Bodelic after examining the doorway with great care. It’s very old. I suspect its purpose was to allow Architects and Artisans to move materials during the original construction.”
After examining a series of pictographs along the inner passage, Bodelic concluded, “No Miner was needed to open this door.” His tone showed obvious relief. “It opens when the correct password is spoken, which is written here,” finished the Miner, gesturing to the pictograms.
“Spoken?” injected Thyre in an incredulous tone. “That means someone had to be with the fyglóra. Only a Shepherd could hope to tame such a beast.”
“Your Majesty,” continued Bodelic, "perhaps the assassins do not know that a Miner could detect this passage, even without knowing its password. We may be able to catch them if we move swiftly.”
Instantly, the Queen issued orders, “Höfòngar, wake the second watch. Tell them to join the Warriors already here. Take two squads down the tunnel. I shall follow. Leave your second to guard the control room at all costs.”
“Othmar, stop the flooding or I shall lose control of Nidafall to the Stemma. My throne is in your hands.”
Thyre appeared ready to object, but the Queen cut her off. “If we do not go down that tunnel now, we will never discover who conspires against me.”
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