CHAPTER 5 - Passing of the Torch & The Exodus of the Blacks
Translations:
*Sharmêl - Scars of all scars
*U'zugh Zardel - Warriors of (U'zugh) Magic of all Magic (Zardel)
*Therkar Khagalamrâl'aban - Supreme staff (Therkar) Sapphire singular (Khagalamrâl'aban)
*Ugshar Ûdãr - Teacher, title of respect (Ugshar) Wizards, person form (Ûdãr)
*'Azn'abbad - The Mountains of Shadows
*Amad - Mother, title
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Albus knew it was time.
In the training yard below, young Harilaos was being put through his paces, trying out the latest runic array tattooed into his skin. Sixty-nine years old, and already his arrays were creeping up his neck as he ran out of space on the rest of his body. Sigils and symbols lit up in the gold light of the young dwarf's magic, as it flowed, taking shape and form from the runes it was passed through. In Harilaos' hands, the bowl of water became ice.
"Good." Alastor nodded to the shirtless young dwarf. "You'd be more efficient, if you used this pattern," The older dwarf traced a finger over a different path of sigils to those that had been lit up, "Then you wouldn't have had to use the verbal command. Never announce what you're going to do."
"Constant Vigilance!" Harilaos and Victor, his sole remaining squadron member, shouted cheekily the familiar refrain. Alastor snorted in reluctant amusement.
Victor was a surly looking dwarf of nearly ninety years from Ironfist descent, whose Sharmêl coiled down his left arm. The dark-haired dwarf had taken to wearing very little over that arm, seemingly to show off, but more in solidarity of his youngest comrade, who was unable to cover the scarring down the right-hand side of his face.
Cedric had also borne his Sharmêl on his face, in front of his left ear, flowing down and along his jaw line. The promising young ûdar had been killed seven years ago, when upon returning from a wyvern hunt, the team had been beset by an orc ambush.
Bleeding out from an orc axe wound on the side of the mountain had pushed their assigned medic, Fleur, out of active duty and into the Healer's Halls, and Harilaos to believing he still wasn't good enough, to further developing his abilities and further away from making friends his own age.
Victor had dealt with the death by declining a transfer to new squad and dedicating himself to always having Harilaos' back – where Harilaos was raw power, Victor was control; where Harilaos had speed and agility, Victor was strength of arms and stability; The rock to the younger dwarf's air. They were a truly impressive duo and finding them a new third was going to be a challenge.
But that wasn't going to be happening any time soon. The Blacks were out of time.
"Alastor, send young Harilaos to my office, once you're done." The elder dwarf asked of his brother.
"Aye, Lord Black." Alastor replied, recognising the request as an order from a senior house member, rather than a question from his kin.
"Stop gawking, and back to work you two."
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Harilaos, Hari to his friends, proud son of the House of Black, Blood of Romestamo, journeyman U'zugh Zardel, deed named The Dragon, knocked nervously on his Head of House's office door. It never boded well for anyone to be summoned to Lord Albus' study- you were either in trouble, had to report about a death or serious injury in the School or Black family, or were about to receive bad news.
Lord Albus had always been nice to the younger House members, never seeming as formal and grave as he really should have been, and frequently offering everyone around him the fruit candy he always bought from the traders from Harad. That still didn't lessen the younger dwarf's trepidation.
"Come in Harilaos." The elder called, and Hari pushed open the door.
The old dwarf was sitting behind the stone carved desk, with its intimidating size and clawed feet.
"I'll just be a moment." The head bearing waist length braided white hair and beard lowered back to the stacks of parchment littering the desktop. "Feel free to nose around a little."
After waiting a little and checking more than once that Lord Albus was really engaged in his paperwork, the inquisitive young dwarf did nose around a little. The walls of the study were lined in bookcases - titles in Khuzdul, Harradic, Rhûnian, Quenyan and Westron, as well as a few other languages Hari could only guess at.
Nearer to the window, actually a chute with mirrors for reflecting in sunlight, sat a carved wood perch, on which sat Fawkes the Phoenix Owl, known as the Blakiston Fish owl in Westron, resplendent in all his tufted red-gold plumage. Unfortunately, the generally curious and friendly bird was asleep. Hari's own owl, Hedwig, was an uncommonly light-coloured female Snowy owl, who had escaped from the traders who had brought her to the south, hidden out in the young dwarf's room in the barracks, and then never left. She was a motherly bird, who treated Hari like her own chick, and had the foul mouth of a hardened soldier when she got her dander up.
Mia, an aspiring Scribe Hari had met at the Shaman's school, had said once that the Longbeards and Broadbeams had ravens instead of owls. And that the Men often used pigeons, probably because the common birds couldn't speak in any language, and thus were unable to talk back, or in Hedwig's case cuss you out, when their owners had done something epically stupid.
Hari continued his perusal of the room, poking at a few enchanted objects on a sideboard, one of which was a blown glass bottle, whose only purpose was to emit regular puffs of different coloured and scented smoke dependent on the mood of the owner. It was currently emitting pale yellow smoke that smelled like elderberry cordial. The young dwarf had been expecting lemon.
Finally, near the door was an intricately carved stone weapon stand, housing not just Lord Albus' first staff, and the ancient sword Hari had once stolen from a wyvern nest and then used to behead the alpha male of said nest; it was also holding the Sapphire Staff, the oldest recorded dwarven weapon still in use today. Containing parts of the Rod of Romestamo, instead of being retuned to stone with it's wielder upon their death, the staff tended to choose its next owner dependent on who was the next most powerful at the time. It had also famously left Lord Albus' father when he was still alive, and had chosen a young Albus instead, as he had far eclipsed his father in magical ability.
Harilaos looked briefly over his shoulder checking that his Head of House was still fully engaged in his paperwork, before tremulously reaching out to brush his fingers over the legendary weapon. As soon as his skin made contact, the tattooed sigils and runes on the young dwarf's hand began to glow, and the familiar buzz of the runes activating spread to every part of his body. Even the runes inscribed on the bones of his right arm, used to piece his arm back together in an invasive procedure after it had been crushed several years ago, began to buzz, and Hari was sure if there hadn't been skin and clothes in the way, he'd be able to see the arrays glowing with the rest of him.
All at once the buzzing and glowing cut out, and Harilaos tried to place the staff that he hadn't noticed picking up, back on the stand.
The Sapphire staff stayed stuck to the young dwarf's palm.
He shook his hand, which did nothing. Then he tried to pull it away with his other hand, and it came away easily. He tried to put it down again, but it was now stuck to his other hand instead. Panicking, Hari placed the staff against the wall, and used one booted foot to pull his hand free. The staff didn't stay put, and as soon as they young dwarf had both hands to himself again, it jumped up of its own volition, and collided with Hari's skull with a dull 'thunk'.
"Ow."
Albus chuckled, drawing Harilaos' attention back to himself.
"I'm sorry sir, I don't know what's happening. I didn't mean for it to do anything, I just," The old dwarf raised his hand to cut off the younger's rambling.
"It's quite alright my boy. I rather expected this to happen."
"What?" Albus raised a white eyebrow with a frown on his lips at his great-grandson's lack of manners.
"I-I mean, I'm sorry sir, I don't understand?" Harilaos quickly corrected himself.
"The Sapphire staff has the rather unique ability to choose its own wielders. I remember it doing much the same, refusing to leave my hand, when it first chose me as a lad." Albus smiled. "And now it has chosen you."
"But I'm not that powerful. I mean, I know I'm good at what I do, but there's others so much better than me, like you, or Master Alastor, Victor knows more magic than me, and have you met Mia from the school? She could quote nearly the entire spell library from memory." The dark-haired dwarf argued, his shaking head sending his numerous ivory decorated deadlocks swaying.
"Young Mia's memory is a rare gift, it's true. But knowing all the enchantments from a book does not mean she has the power to actually use them. And control and an expanded repertoire come with time and age." Albus corrected. "By the time one is mine or Alastor's age, you would expect to know a great many spells and have the efficiency to use them one after the other without tiring. But the Sapphire staff does not choose on what you can already do now, but on the raw power you have, that you can use, to do more. And it has chosen you. I felt it start pulling away a while ago now, so I think we can expect much more from you, Harilaos, in the future."
"But I'm adopted, I'm not actually a Black." Hari refuted weakly. Unconsciously his left hand came up to join his right, clenched around the same staff they were debating the ownership of.
"Adopted from near, or far, you are and always will be a Black of the Blood." Albus stood and gave a paternal tug to a loose deadlock of the young dwarf before him. "Time to be off for dinner, young man."
Still shocked, Harilaos started to turn for the door.
"Wait, what about…" And he shrugged his shoulder, causing the brace that held his original staff across his back to shift visibly.
"Leave it here on the stand, until you can make yourself a new holster, or a stand for your rooms." The elder dwarf advised. "And just between you and me, if you don't want others staring, well, Alastor has mentioned your primary elemental ability is air. You do know your glamouries, yes?"
Harilaos nodded, and placed his original staff, that he had carved himself under the direction of Weapons Master Garrick, on the stand the Sapphire staff had been resting in. He dexterously traced the runes he needed for the illusion and whispered the words he didn't yet have the sigils for. The Sapphire staff seemed to waver, before taking on the appearance of the dwarf's previous weapon and magical focus.
"Off you go, my boy."
Once the young dwarf was out of the office, Albus glamoured his first staff to look like the fabled Sapphire staff and picked it up.
"Will you stand with me again, old friend?" He whispered to the stone and metal construction and felt the familiar resonance of his magic flowing through the staff once again.
Albus took a minute to tie the braids of his hair back from his face, then stood ready in the centre of his office.
He knew what was coming.
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Tuomas of the House of Var marched down the corridor, two tall, intimidating orcs at his back. Ivan was dead, and his take-over was nearly complete. All that stood in the way between himself and complete subjugation of the populous of the Shadow Mountain was the Blacks. Only the holder of the Sapphire Staff could command absolute obedience of the U'zugh Zardel, even above any Royal a Warrior may have chosen to bind themselves to. None were currently bound, what with Ivan's unlamented passing and Sirius, the slippery creature, had vanished from the rooms he had been locked in. So, the staff was Tuomas' next goal.
The dwarf waved an imperious hand, signalling the orcs under his command to break down the door.
In the settling stone dust and rubble of the door, stood Lord Albus, Head of the House of Black, Ugshar Ûdãr, Headmaster of the Shaman School, respected Elder of the Blacklock community. And in his hand, held at the ready, was the Therkar Khagalamrâl'aban, the Sapphire Staff.
"You won't win Tuomas." Albus stated mildly, as though his office door hadn't just been pulverised by a pair of orcs.
"I have already won." The younger dwarf retorted. "My orcs have blocked off the paths out of the mountain, Ivan is dead. The Shadow Mountain is mine to rule as king."
"You may call yourself 'king' all you like, but we both know the lore. The only true King of the Khazad must hold the Arkenstone and be of Durin's line. You are not of the line of Durin, and last I heard the stone was in the belly of a dragon."
"Semantics." Tuomas dismissed. "Give me the staff old man."
"The Sapphire staff chooses its own allegiance, as you would remember from your history lessons. I know you paid attention; I was your teacher. So, you know I couldn't just hand over this staff, its allegiance rests with me." The elder dwarrow argued logically.
The two orcs had been shifting impatiently and attacked at Tuomas' signal.
Albus raised his staff and spun it in a defensive figure eight, warding off the first strikes. The orcs moved back in for another attempt. The first one to come close enough received a devastating blow to the temple, the hardened onyx top caving in the side of the creature's skull. Albus wouldn't have the time to bring up his staff to ward off the second, more wary orc, so borrowed from his favorite (not that he would say it out loud) great-grandson. The white-haired dwarf raised his left hand to his face and clicked together two of his rings to make a spark. He blew magic dense air from his lungs, catching the spark and turning it into a gout of magical fire. The orc was reduced to an evil smelling, charred lump.
Tuomas hadn't been standing idle but had been distracted from his goal by Fawkes. The huge owl was on the attack, swooping and clawing where he could in the confined space of the office, the firelight gilding his plumage, making the bird appear to be made of flames, like the firebirds of myth his breed was named for.
Tuomas finally got a good strike on the aggressive avian with his scythe. The weapon being his converted first staff, as those who had studied at the Shaman school, but hadn't gone on to continue studying magic, tended to incorporate their staff into another weapon better suited for their fighting style. Only the U'zugh Zardel, and those who elected to continue as teachers retained their staffs in their original form.
Fawkes gave a pained screech as he collided with the floor, his blood already dripping from his feathers. Brutally, Tuomas kicked the downed bird, killing it and launching its body into the fireplace. Albus, seeing the demise of his beloved companion, grit his teeth and turned his full attention to the killer in his study.
"Give me the staff." Tuomas repeated, swinging the scythe at his elder.
"No." Albus replied shortly, parrying the blow. "The U'zugh Zardel will never be yours."
Though Albus has been the holder of Therkar Khagalamrâl'aban for many decades, he was still an old dwarf at the end of his natural life, while Tuomas was in his prime, had been a promising student when he'd attended the school, and despite the state of his scythe, had obviously continued his studies of magic in secret.
Finally, when Albus lay on the floor, gasping his final breaths, Tuomas wrenched the staff from the old dwarf's hand. Away from the source, the magic hiding the appearance of the staff faded.
The smug victory on the dark-haired dwarf's face fell in shocked disappointment, followed by rage.
"What is this?" He hissed to the dying dwarf on the ground.
"I told you," Albus gasped, "The U'zugh Zardel will never be yours. The Sapphire staff has chosen a new master, just today in fact." The old dwarf laughed breathily, then fell silent in death.
Tuomas screamed in abject fury.
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"What's happening?" and "What do we do?" Were the questions being asked from many mouths in the North market.
The scribes of the Shadow Mountain had announced Lord Tuomas' take-over and the death of Lord Ivan, and orcs in the company of Tuomas' personal soldiers had been seen dragging away known political opponents from their houses and workplaces. Those who agreed with Tuomas' rule and policies had locked themselves in their houses, with the new ruler's personal seal painted crudely on their doors.
Those who disagreed but weren't politically or financially powerful enough to have been personally targeted, were desperately trying to leave the mountain, but found all the exits guarded by yet more orcs. They gathered in the North Market, nearest the Barracks, all available soldiers at the ready.
The U'zugh Zardel had gathered in the Great Hall of the school, knowing Lord Albus had been targeted, but seeking direction, nonetheless.
"Take the glamour off boy." Alastor stomped up to his protégé with his distinctive uneven gait.
"What?" Harilaos asked, turning to face his mentor. Victor, and Harilaos' friend and cousin Rôn, turned as well.
"You hold the Sapphire Staff; you need to give these idiots orders."
"How did you know?" The young dwarf hissed, looking subtly around for eaves droppers. Luckily, everyone was too concerned with their own conversations to have overheard.
"I didn't replace my lost eye with this enchanted rock, 'cos it happened to look pretty." Alastor sassed.
"Oh, right." Harry swallowed. "What do I say? What do I tell them to do?"
"We need to get the people out of here, before even more die!" Alastor snapped, wishing his main student were older, yet again. Don't get him wrong, Harilaos was incredibly talented, hard working and mature for his age, but he was still a year off of being of age, and sometimes it showed. "Get up there."
He pushed the young dwarf towards the elevated dais the Head Table sat upon. Harilaos boosted himself up onto the stage and took a deep breath. Victor and Rôn soon flanked him, giving him support for what he was about to do. Harilaos removed the staff from the brace across his back and cancelled the illusion.
No one on the main floor noticed, all too engrossed in their panicked conversations. Frowning, Hari thumped the end of his staff on the floor, producing a deep boom. The crowd stopped and turned to face the youngsters stood at the front.
"Everyone, Lord Tuomas has betrayed us, and all the free citizens of 'Azn'abbad, by allying with the Mordor Orcs. He has murdered Lord Ivan and countless others already today, and Lord Albus is on his list too, if he hasn't already been killed." Harilaos spoke as clearly and steadily as he could. "We need to help get the free citizens out of the mountain. Those trying to flee have found orcs guarding the main exits. There are secret tunnels under the school and the Warrior's barracks. We need to lead the people out through them and take them to another Khazad settlement."
"Is that really the Therkar Khagalamrâl'aban? Why do you have it?" Someone shouted.
"Yes. It chose me just this morning when I went to Lord Albus' office." Hari answered. "But that's really not important right now. The innocent people being killed by orcs and Tuomas' men are what we need to focus on."
"Why would it choose you?" Someone else derailed the conversation again.
"I don't know. And staffs don't talk, so I can't really ask." The young dwarf sassed. "Priorities, people!"
"We'll need you to open the passageways, since you have the Sapphire staff." An of-age dam, one of the final year student at the school spoke up. "Who will lead the citizens, and to which settlements?"
Harilaos thought quickly and licked his lips before answering carefully.
"Go by families. If you have relatives in one of the other settlements that you know of, round up the people who also have families there. Go east once you're outside, then travel north through Rhûn. Since I hold the Sapphire staff now, Tuomas is going to come after me. I'll head west to draw the orcs and soldiers he'll send away from the rest of you."
"What about those that are only Blacklock, or Blacklock and Stonefoot?" Another final year student called out.
"Head to the Iron Hills." One of the School teachers suggested. "Lord Dain's people are doing well and will have work for many. He's also not a fan of Tuomas, so won't turn anyone away, for spite if nothing else."
Several people laughed in agreement.
"So, get moving!" Alastor roared when everyone continued to stand around, despite having a plan of action. The gathered dwarves jumped into action.
Harilaos hurried from the stage, and toward where he knew the first of the hidden tunnels were located. He'd open the ones in the school, before the ones in the barracks and the one which he'd leave from himself.
"I'm going with you." Victor stated, his words, as always, accented by the Ironfist dialect of Khuzdul his family spoke in their home. "I promised Cedric to always have your back."
"That's what you two were talking about back then?" Harilaos asked incredulously, walking briskly toward his destination. "I always wondered why Cedric was talking to you in Westron, on his deathbed, and it was him asking you to have my back? Why?"
"You were not far into your Westron studies to understand, and you would have argued if you'd known." Victor shrugged. Rôn laughed and nodded.
"I thought it was some great secret, or a confession or something!" The youngest dwarf of the trio exclaimed, putting the head of the Sapphire staff into the indents of the lock on the disguised door and turning. The mechanisms in the lock clicked and ticked, and the doorway opened. The first group to leave hurried up behind them and ducked through the door at Harilaos' nod.
"Shut the door once everyone coming this way is through. It'll lock on its own so you can't be followed." He instructed his fellow u'zagh, who was holding the door and waving the civilians through.
"You know I'm following you as well," Rôn stated, "And Mahal help anyone who tries to stop Amad from going after her favorite nephew."
"I'm Aunt Moli's only nephew." Harilaos teased his friend. Rôn shrugged good naturedly.
"Of course, if I'm coming, Mia's definitely not going to be left behind. And if Amad is going, then so is the rest of my siblings, and Adad. And Adad's sister, and her daughter. And you'll probably have Master Alastor, and the rest of the Blacks." The young red-haired dwarf reassured his adopted cousin and close friend. "You don't have to fight this one on your own, you know. You may be the new head of the U'zugh Zardel, which you didn't tell me about by the way, but you're still family, and we're with you all the way."
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All translations sourced from The Dwarrow Scholar at dwarrowscholardotnet.
AO3's document manager/add a chapter function is much more user friendly, and doesn't make scrambled eggs out of your formatting... I hope at least one person enjoys this story. Reviews and constructive criticism make me a better writer who updates more frequently.
-Vengeance