The sun was hot and high in the sky when they started to approach their destination. Even though Thora felt as if they had all just arrived minutes ago from that other plane, the dwarf also felt sweaty and tired, as if they’d been sitting there for hours glued to the wagon driver’s bench. Everything felt like a giant timey-wimey jumble in the soldier’s head.

A man, riding on horseback, pulled up alongside them. Thora didn’t recognize the man at first, but then a jumble of memories suddenly flooded in along with a name: Erman. He was dressed simply enough for the most part but was wearing a very odd-looking brass helmet. The shape of it was not much unlike the miner’s helmets some of Thora’s kind would have used in the deep tunnels of the Sakhar mountains, but atop this brass bowl were numerous gadgets and gears and things that the dwarf just couldn’t recognize.

“We’re almost there!” Erman shouted gleefully. “Just ahead now. Obviously, you can’t see it, but you might be able to see the two marker poles for the entrance.”

Some sort of gadget seemed to fold down from atop the man’s helmet over his eyes as he looked forward. He tried to point it out to Thora, but the dwarf didn’t see anything. The elf who shared the driver’s bench seemed to be leaning forward, perhaps having been able to see something with his keen eyesight.

“Before we get there, I just wanted you to know something,” Erman began, his voice getting more serious as he addressed all of them on the cart. “It’s been really tough for me these last few years. The folks I’ve worked with haven’t been able to stick around long and so I’ve made it a habit not to get too attached. No friends. No family. This last month was different, though.”

As Erman spoke there was a swirl in Thora’s mind as memories solidified and filled in the gaps. The dwarf could vividly recall slamming a stein into Erman’s shoulder and spilling ale on him as they laughed about some slip-up that Thora had made in sneaking into a thieves’ den in Embassy. Or that time they had stood back-to-back, protecting each other from hordes of angry bugbear as they waited for Duanne to save them. Thora and the others had brought Erman into their little found family as they had worked for the doctor, trying to help out with whatever needed doing in Embassy. At least, that was what these new memories told Thora had happened. It was all very confusing. Erman was still talking, though…

“… and I know that when we get to the Empire, you might have your own way to go” Erman continued, as Thora refocused onto the conversation. “I just wanted you to know that it’s so great to have real friends and that this time has meant so much to…”

There was a whistling sound followed by an awful noise as the sniper shot buried into the side of Erman’s helmet, cutting off his sentence in an instant. Erman’s head practically exploded from the concussive force of the high-impact projectile that seemed to come from the trees. They all were shocked for a moment and then the sound of additional sniper fire filled the air as others in the caravan began to fall to the ground.

It was an ambush!

Stopping the Heist

Shouts were echoing across the field and panic was spreading. Riderless horses reared in confusion, threatening to bolt. Tossing the reins to Zearach, Thora immediately dove for the nearest cover to get out of sight. The dwarf could sense that there were shooters nearby, just off the road, and Thora hoped to get a drop on them.

From the cover of a tree, Thora watched as the attackers made themselves visible. The dwarf’s companions were flushing them out, but there were a lot of them. While some of them did seem to be trying to fire upon them, the majority of their focus seemed to be on the wagons. Whatever these Enkyrians were transporting meant an awful lot to these ambushers. They were heavily armoured, much like the troopers that had tried to bomb the lab in Embassy. These weren’t going to be easy marks.

Silently slipping through the brush, Thora approached the gleaming metal of one of the shooters who was still hanging back from the road. Thora’s blade drove deep, blood spurting everywhere, but even with a well-placed blade to the throat, somehow the armour had kept the man alive. The dwarf swore quietly as the element of surprise had been lost. The shooter was big, at least twice the dwarf’s size, and in a one-on-one Thora knew it would have been a tough battle. But it wasn’t one-on-one. Suddenly, figures appeared everywhere around the dwarf, surrounding Thora in a barrage of blows.

Shouts could be heard from the road… somewhere the others were in it deep with the rest of the ambushers. A loud storm was blowing through the far trees, lightning striking the ground on a clear sunny day.

Duanne’s work, no doubt.

It seemed like a world away, though. Thora was fighting to survive, swirling with both blades out, doing whatever it took to keep standing. With a desperate push, Thora drove a blade into the shooter, hoping to carve a way out. As the man was driven to the ground, one of the other attackers suddenly blinked out of existence.

What in Moradin’s name?

Taking advantage of the surprise, Thora kicked dirt up at the remaining attackers before diving into the underbrush and finding a quick exit. There was no time to hide and lick wounds, but hopefully the soldier’s pursuers would need to take a moment to zero in. Kneeling down, Thora held a hand against the deepest cut on the left side. Applying pressure stopped the bleeding for a moment, but it was going to take more than a glove to heal this. Looking about, Thora could see Zearach nearby, standing on the wagon and firing arrow after arrow at the rest of the field. While Thora had been off in the bushes after one shooter, the others had been dealing with at least a half-dozen on their own.

Bodies littered the road, from both sides of the conflict. Thora could see one of the carts was rushing into the woods with Duanne battling the driver. Another cart was being grabbed further down the road.

Unghhh.. Thora grunted. The pain was almost too much. The battle wasn’t done yet though. The soldier stood again, readying a bow, hoping to at least get a shot off before it ended. A crashing noise came through the bush to Thora’s left and the dwarf spun, preparing to unload on the attacker.

“Alandal?!?”

The bard’s draconic smile looked down at the soldier, a clawed hand grabbing Thora’s shoulder.

“You can do this” the dragonborn said reassuringly, sending a wave of power through the dwarf’s body. Thora suddenly felt invigorated and focused, the pain subsiding. “Now get out there and fight!”

A Dangerous Game

Thora was fired up! The bard had definitely put something extra in with those inspiring words, something that made Thora feel ready to take on the world. Well, at the very least Thora was feeling well enough to stand strongly and move again. That was something!

“Thanks, Alandal, I needed that” the dwarf said quietly, tapping him on the chest as the dwarf raced forward from the bush, already eyeing a new target.

Grabbing the reins of a nearby horse, Thora made the awkward leaping climb that dwarves have had to get so good at to ride these enormously tall beasts. The horse didn’t seem particularly happy about the heavy weight of Thora’s frame either, but the horse listened to its training and allowed the soldier to urge it forward into the fray.

Ahead, one of the hijackers was trying to start a cart moving, clearly trying to get away with its contents. Thora could see a few of the heavily armored soldiers still standing, trying to awkwardly get control of the horses. If Thora moved quickly, they could close the distance.

“Ride like the lightning” Thora whispered, leaning down into the horse’s mane as dust flew up behind them. They were close now and the enemy soldier had noticed the sound of the approaching hooves galloping towards them.

The hijacker ahead of Thora seemed to be trying to work around something on the ground, moving behind the cart, so Thora guided the horse to the left, blowing by the soldier and pulling up right next to the wagon. Thora was just starting to push off to make the leap when everything went wrong.

For a moment, it felt as if Thora was hanging in the air.

Something was wrong with the horse, its hooves were slipping, and Thora could feel its body twisting and losing balance. The dwarf was already trying to leap and the sudden change in the horse’s stride sent the dwarf flying. It was as if time was frozen, with Thora having a moment to reflect on all the little moments that had led to this. A split second later, the ground came rushing up and the soldier slammed down hard. The air knocked out of the dwarf’s lungs and Thora’s face became splashed with some sort of thick black goo. Now Thora realized what had slowed the hijackers down: it was grease… and tons of it. Duanne’s work, no doubt!

Thora didn’t have much time to appreciate the effectiveness of the wizard’s work as the horse slammed down upon the dwarf’s leg. Pinned momentarily, Thora was just pulling free when a blade nearly took the dwarf’s head clean off and slammed it into the side of the cart. If it hadn’t been for a last-moment stroke of luck, that would have been it! The dwarf scrambled up the side of the wagon, trying to stay balanced on the slippery surface. The one soldier was down below, trying to pull the dwarf back down and the other soldier was at the reins trying to get the wagon under control.

Arrows were flying everywhere and Thora was dancing back and forth, trying to keep balance and also not get shot. Or dragged down off the cart. Or stabbed by the driver. In short, the dwarf was a little busy.

And then the cart caught fire.

The flames in the back of the wagon were contained at first, just a small fire that could be extinguished fairly easily, but it risked spreading to the other flammable goods in the back. Why was there a fire in the back of the cart? Well, the arrow sticking out of a torn hole in a transport sack next to a reasonably sizeable fire elemental that was currently threatening them all probably had something to do with it. It seemed bad luck was following the soldier around today!

The would-be heist-driver was meddling with something attached to the armour, triggering some device to glow and activate. That could not be a good thing for Thora. The next moment there was some sort of flash and the hijacker disappeared, replaced almost immediately by something that looked identical. It lunged at Thora, driving the soldier back towards the flames. Thora raised a blade to parry but timed it wrong as the dwarf lost footing on the greasy wagon. The blade drove deep, catching Thora in the abdomen.

Thora clutched a gloved hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but could already feel the strength slipping away. The dwarf slumped down, the world going dark as it often did when blades were stabbed into you in a fatal spot. Thora’s eyes fluttered as the flames seemed to approach closer.

One of the last feelings Thora had was of cold and wet. A wave of water was splashing over the back of the cart, dousing the flames right in front of Thora, but the dwarf’s eyes were closed now. Thora could feel the world slipping away.

Into the Light

Thora looked around. This place looked familiar, but it wasn’t really a place. It felt like something that was an almost-thing, as if there was a thin-ness to it all. The dwarf’s eyes were drawn towards the bright glowing portal ahead, the soldier’s feet somehow closing the distance without having actually moved.

The winged silhouette of a stout dwarven frame blocked part of the portal. The figure turned, allowing for light of the portal to light up its face, revealing a long red beard and smiling eyes that welcomed Thora forward.

“Uncle Belgar?” Thora spoke, questioningly. “Is it really you?”

“You’ve fought well, Thora” Belgar spoke, his voice echoing slightly with the gravelly tone that Thora remembered from childhood. The angel’s large hands closed around Thora’s hand, holding it gently. “It is so good to see you again.”

Thora was almost in tears, feeling the celestial presence of the figure before him. Uncle Belgar had looked much like this, even with the wings, the last time he had visited the Sakhar mountains but there was something else about his presence that was different.

“It’s time, isn’t it?”

“Yes, if you are ready.” The soft reply was accompanied by a reassuring smile but the look on his face changed as Belgar looked over Thora’s shoulder at something behind the soldier. Was that confusion? Surprise?

“You’re friends are taking some extreme measures, it seems” Belgar explained, looking back at Thora with a surprised look, though he did not fill in the details. When Thora looked back, there was nothing there. Just more of the not-place.

“You have a choice, young one” the winged figure spoke, his dwarven words somehow rolling with thunder and flowing like a river at the same time. “There is a way back for you, it does not have to end today.”

The pull of the portal was so tempting. To be in Moradin’s grace, to work the forges of Erackinor, to join the great ancestors. Thora had seen so much in so few years on Rhime, yet still… wasn’t there an entire plane of existence to save? Searching within, Thora wondered on the impact of rejecting access to the great halls. Would Moradin forgive a dwarf for these reasons?

“There’s so much to do karravade-kraval“ Thora spoke, haltingly. The emotions were bubbling to the surface, about to burst. “It was so good to see you. I will visit Moradin’s realm soon, I am certain.”

“You can stay if you wish, it is your choice. Are you sure?”

“Yes, uncle, I’m sure.”

“Yankar, dwedki” Belgar whispered, closing his wings around Thora in a glowing embrace. The dwarves stayed there, holding on one extra moment. “May Moradin guide your blade, child.”

Thora was about to ask one last question when a sudden pain filled the dwarf’s chest. It was as if all the joy in Thora’s heart was being ripped out. The portal, Uncle Belgar, even the not-quite-a-place all disappeared, replaced by the cold night air of the forest. Every inch of skin was covered in ice and the dwarf was shivering, even though the heat of a fire was definitely nearby. Thora could feel every part of every limb aching, along with a pounding headache, and an overwhelming urge to vomit.

Which Thora did.

The soldier tried to get up, but Duanne’s clawed hand pushed the dwarf back to the bedroll.

“You need rest” came Zearach’s voice from across the camp. Thora couldn’t see the elf, couldn’t even keep eyes open long enough to focus on anything around them.

“How long do you think the dwarf will be like this?” asked a voice that Thora didn’t recognize.

“As long as it takes” came a firm voice from the other side of the dwarf. Alandal? “It was not as if that urn came with extremely specific instructions. We were lucky we didn’t raise a demon instead.”

Thora rolled over, opening one eye to try to see the others. The world was muted, and not just because of the night. It was less than. A memory. Everything seemed like it lacked the vibrancy of life that Thora had seen in it before. The dwarf’s body would heal, eventually, but something else had been lost.

Closing both eyes again, Thora fell into a long and exhausted sleep. There would be no heroics tomorrow, only putting one step before the other. Thora had spoken truthfully to Uncle Belgar: there was still so much to do. These friends who had done Moradin-knows-what to bring the dwarf back deserved a payment in kind. Thora already owed a life-debt to them, but this was bigger now.

Now, Thora’s very soul was at stake.

Credits

• Cover image: “Equalize”, by Mike “Daarken” Lim (sourced from Reddit)