Chapter 24; The Map

Pawl the Dorf wasn't the bravest of Dwarves. He knew that, and he accepted that fact with ease.

So it was only natural, that he would try to escape the soon to be doomed City of Neverending.

That Dwarf King looked really angry and upset. Pawl doubted that the King had lied about the threats to him and the City.

But there was a small problem, an obstacle if you will… Pawl was a coward. He didn't have the courage to run away alone. By himself… To the unknown…

He looked at his battleaxe, the common weapon of choice of his kin. He liked it, really. It looked mean and lethal. Alas he hates to hurt others. He couldn't stand the sight of blood.

Pawl knew that he was horrible at being a Dwarf. He couldn't fight like one, and he couldn't even drink like one. He preferred to drink fruit juices over alcoholic beverages.

And that was just wrong, according to Dwarf standards.

But Pawl was a Dwarf. That much he was certain. Heck, he even had a beard, for crying out loud.

But he just… didn't feel like one.

For example, he liked reading. He truly did. Reading books about adventures and quests. He loved them! He wished he was like those wise and strong adventurers, which always won the day and got the girl.

But he knew that he would never save the day… nor would he get the girl.

He was feeling miserable again. That wasn't new… He always felt miserable, when he thought about his racial heritage and problems fitting the Dwarven society.

Pawl felt very lonely. He just wanted to fit in, but he never did. It was a truly impossible dream for he was a Dwarf that didn't know how to act like one.

The depressed Dwarf looked at his backpack and sighed. The only thing that he had on the backpack was bags full of salt. Damn salt…

He had invested all of his money on the linguistics class and books about Dwarves. He could only afford the salt at this time.

He examined the sky, and prayed that a lightning would strike him down and put him off his misery.

But the merciful lightning never came. It never did.

"Hey! It's him!"

Pawl´s face went suddenly white with fear. Had his kin already attacked the City? Or had the Merchant warned the Watch about him?

The frightened Dwarf started running away. What else could he do? Wait patiently for his gruesome death?

"Hey! Wait! It's just us!"

But Pawl didn't care. He didn't know who they, or what they wanted, but he knew that he didn't want to find out what the wanted, especially if it involve his head on a spike.

"Does he owe you money?"

"No! Now that I think about it… I owe him some money."

"Really?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to get paid."

"Let's go after him!"

"My legs hurt!"

"Shut up!"

The Dwarf was running as fast as he could, running for his life. Damn the heavy armor! It was slowing him down! He could hear the footsteps of his stalkers getting closer.

"Go away!" – shouted Pawl.

But the stalkers just yelled for him to stop running. One of them was actually begging him to stop because his legs were killing him.

"Ah! If they want to kill me, you have to work for it!" – murmured the Dwarf.

He hastily turned left, and continued to run for his life. His breath was getting heavier and heavier, and his muscles were beginning to hurt. He wasn't used to run this much. But he was running for his life, so he couldn´t stop.

"Damn it! How can that guy run so fast?"

"Can´t feel… my legs…"

Pawl couldn't contain a smile of relief. His foes were also tired. That gave him motivation to go on. The more his stalkers whined, the faster he ran.

Unfortunately, he took a wrong turn, and ended up in a dead end. The Dwarf bashed into the wall and felled to the ground.

So this was it… The end. The final curtain. The last mine.

He picked up his battleaxe and tried to stand upright. He was a coward, alright. But those bloodthirsty bastards didn't know that. He hoped…

The Dwarf saw two shadows approaching the alley. He growled and started threatening them with his axe.

Both men stopped and gestured the Dwarf to calm down.

"Pawl, it is me… Grayson!" – stated one of the men.

The other one fell on the ground and started whining about his feet and something about incredible pain his back. Only one guy in the City of Neverending could whine like that… And that guy was Peter.

That guy had reached perfection in the whining department. It was like watching a master craftsman doing his work of art. It was like appreciating a meal prepared by the best of cooks. Peter´s whines were considered by all, works of Art.

"Lads? Why were ye following me?" – demanded the Dwarf.

Pawl had been so nervous and paranoid, that he had forgotten to fake his Dwarven accent. He should be more careful, if he didn't want everyone and their lawyer to know that he couldn't even speak like a Dwarf.

Grayson was trying to catch his breath, and backed down against a wall. Peter was whining about his life and the need of water.

"We wanted to talk with you, dummy!" – answered the Fighter.

The Dwarf let go of his battleaxe. The thud of the axe hitting the ground echoed for some time.

"Me be sorry, lads! Aye! Me thought that ye were Goblins or something!" – lied the Dwarf.

Grayson cursed the Dwarf´s stupidity and pointed at his tired friend.

"I could accept that you mistake that idiot for a Goblin! But me?" – replied Grayson.

Both Dwarf and Fighter started laughing at that comment. But the Ranger didn't laugh. Actually, he hadn't even listened to the comment. His feet ached and his mouth was dry. He only wanted whine about his problems and maybe cry a little.

"What did ye want, lads?" – asked the Dwarf.

Grayson helped Peter to straighten up, and glared at the Dwarf.

"We need a map, Pawl." – said the Fighter.

Peter nodded in agreement.

"And a Cleric…" – mumbled Peter.

Grayson showed his friend a mocking smile.

"What about that talk about being able to detect serious injuries and cure them?" – jested Grayson.

"I am too tired to do anything that requires thinking." – grumbled the Ranger.

The Fighter nodded and showed the Dwarf a joyful smile.

"Thank the gods, then. The day that Peter starts thinking, it will be a sign of the end of the world, it will." – joked the Fighter.

Peter slapped his friend on the head, but laughed at the joke. The Dwarf felt more at ease, now that he knew that he wasn't being followed by assassins or an enraged mob.

"A map to where, lads?" – inquired Pawl.

Peter was feeling better, and was capable of standing upright on his own.

"A map to the swamps, my Dwarven friend." – answered the Ranger.

Pawl considered the answer and nodded. His cousin, a Dwarf cartographer, had given him several maps, including one of the swamp. That stinky place wasn't far away from the City… It was actually really close to it. You could find the swamp by simply following your nose.

But these lads had never got out of the City before, so they didn't know that.

Wait a second! They wanted to away from the City. What a coincidence! So did Pawl. He wanted to go as far away as possible. Sure, the swamp wasn't that far away, but it wasn't the City of Neverending and that meant something.

"Why the swamp, lads?" – questioned the Dwarf.

Maybe they knew about Pawl´s mistake and were also running away from the City.

Both friends looked at each other, as if wondering if they should let the Dwarf know or not. That made Pawl a bit nervous. Perhaps they had really heard about that diplomatic catastrophe.

Finally, Peter decided to tell Pawl what was going how. Grayson didn't interrupt him, so that meant that he agreed on this course of action.

"We are on a quest, pawl." – explained Peter.

"A quest?" – asked an incredulous Dwarf.

Grayson nodded in confirmation.

"We have to get some swamp water for Peter´s uncle." – added the Fighter.

Pawl was confused and a bit lost in all this. But one thing was certain: they didn't know about the coming war, nor who accidentally started it.

"Swamp water?" – inquired the Dwarf.

Peter showed him a sick look.

"You don't want to know… Believe me… You don't want to know…" – mumbled Peter.

Grayson also showed a blank look after that statement. It seemed that Peter hadn't told his friend about it, either.

"By the way, Grayson… Where is the barrel?" – questioned Peter.

The Fighter looked around and then grumbled a few curses.

"Oh, damn! I had to let go of that stupid barrel!" – explained Grayson.

"What?" – yelled Peter.

Pawl was still a bit confused about all this, but he welcomed the time to think that the lads were offering him. He needed to sort out his course of action and going to the swamp was beginning to feel like the best escape route.

"It was darn heavy, Peter! We were running after Pawl, remember?" – growled Grayson.

Peter shrugged as if he just didn´t care about it.

"As your leader, I am telling to go get it." – order Peter.

Grayson stood very still and glared at the Ranger as if he was about to punch him on the face.

"Errr… Please…" – begged Peter.

The Fighter nodded and went after the barrel. What else could he do? They needed the barrel in order to fill it up with swamp water. Damn his luck!

Pawl scratched his beard. He always did that when he was plotting something.

"Can me join yer crew, lad?" – inquired the Dwarf.

Peter looked surprised at the Dwarf question. But he was able to quickly recover his posture.

"Maybe… Why should we accept you? It is a very exclusive quest." – said the Ranger.

"Me have the map, lad!" – remembered Pawl.

Peter showed the Dwarf a sneaky smile.

"Very well! I see your point." – stated Peter.

The Dwarf sighed in relief.

"But besides the map, what have you to offer us?" – added the Ranger.

"Well… Nothing much, really… Only bags full of salt." – explained Pawl.

Peter´s eyes reflected an enormous interest.

"Salt? You have… salt?" – demanded Peter.

The Dwarf nodded in confirmation.

"Me backpack is full of it, aye!" – answered Pawl.

"You are in, mate! Congratulations!" – assured Peter.

"Thanks, lad!" – replied the Dwarf.

Peter nodded and told Pawl to gather his stuff. After that, the Ranger was lost in his own thoughts.

"And so is your salt…" – thought Peter, while showing a joyful smile.