Chapter 2

Insight

By the time sunrise came, the peace had worn off. As I picked at my breakfast and grabbed my gear for the day's work, I felt an uneasiness begin to creep into me at the base of my spine. It began to seep vertebrate by vertebrate toward my skull, a bluish-blackish wave of disgust and anxiety. What in Hades was I thinking? I had betrayed Schonheit. I was going to have to face the consequences. And they would not be light.

The journey to the mine was just as bad. Every time an animal skittered through the bushes or a fellow dwarf joined us along the way, the wave surged in my skull. I saw Humbert perched behind every bush, an arrow nocked and locked on to my forehead. Luckily the others were in no mood to talk. Uncertainty was in all our minds, and uncertainty and silence are born comrades. Though my family (and my people in general) hadn't particularly cared one way or the other about the king, they did care about one thing: change. Dwarves can't stand it. To them, change is weak, like the wind or water, unable to stand its ground against stalwart tradition. They abide by codes and conducts that have persisted for centuries, held under the fastidious records of the dwarven clerics. My people take pride in these things, and when their order falters (for what does not against the hand of Fortuna?), they cling to it ever more blindly. Yes, my people would more gladly forsake their lives than forsake the hallowed Earth.

But the Earth changes as well, and it was doing that just now. The death of the king meant a new war. It meant a new ruler. It meant new. And all the dwarves on the trek to the mine were not prepared to handle that. They drudged past us like they were being pulled in an Agraban slave line, spitting whispered omens and confusions to each other. The news had spread fast, so it seemed. Every dwarf we met that day kept her head down. We all knew what lay in store, but most of all me.

The trip became more and more a miasma of alien shapes and colors, distorted by the heat waves in the distance and the torture in my own head. The stump where I had spoken with Drizella, the road which led to Mount Fenris, Lac Naurig with its shining rainbow stones: all this beautiful scenery only looked more profane this morning. Hoping to cool my head of these thoughts, I asked the foreman if I could stop by the lake and rest a bit, and since he liked me, he obliged. The others moved dejectedly onward, and I was left alone. I bent down and splashed some water on my face, watching my reflection distort and come back into focus as I did.

The black wave grew stronger and stronger as I looked at my face—force pounded against my temples, hazed my vision and finally took root in the center of my forehead. I felt my spirit float down, down into the water until there was nothing. Just dark emptiness and a few white lines moving about.

The white lines converged into a large mass at the center of my vision. A mountain, cold and harsh, nothing but rock. For reasons I did not know, I was terrified of it. I tried to turn away, but my eyes traveled ahead of me, racing faster and faster up the slope. They perceived a crevice at the summit and swooped inside. I cried out for them to stop—surely nothing good awaited down there—but still they flew downward, through fire and ash, to a dark, winged creature nestled in sleep on a slab of basalt. Finally my eyes stood still, and I beheld the beast.

It was enormous, larger than even the largest elephant. It had a powerful, sinewy naked body, and though it had no visible member, I knew immediately the creature was male. His face was contorted, hideous, with pointed ears and a mouth full of treacherous teeth, all of them incisors. But perhaps the most horrifying thing about him was his eyes, glazed over like a sleeping adder. They were a piercing yellow, with no irises or pupils. Just cruel, cold fire in those eyes.

Dread seized me the moment I cast my gaze toward them. My thoughts were lost to me, and in their place stood image after image of desolation, despair, and ultimate evil. I screamed aloud and tried in vain to shut my eyes, but the force which projected the nightmares was much too strong. I felt dark claws at my chest, prying at me, trying with all their might to get into my skin. The glaze over the beast's eyes began to peel back steadily.

Enough! a voice cried out. The claws immediately stopped their digging. The beast's eyes filmed over once more. I was jerked suddenly and firmly from that horrible place, flying up and over places unknown to me, until I beheld a great face in front of me. This one I guessed, for all throughout Schonheit could identify her as easily as one can identify a goddess.

Full lips, blood red and pressed together in an imperious sneer.

Fair skin, almost blinding when it dominated one's entire vision.

Eyes a marvelous vibrant green, full of judgment, secrets, and power.

I shuddered as the great mouth in front of me spoke, the voice commanding, thunderous.

Who art thee, Dwarfmaid? How didst thou come to tread the Astral Way?

I remained silent, dumbfounded at the awesome power of the woman before me.

Speak, Dwarfmaid. Dost thou know whom thou address? We are Grimhilde, Queen of Schonheit and Princess of the Wahrish Realms! Speak, or thou shall know our wrath.

The threat coaxed my voice back to me, and I opened my mouth to speak. No words came out.

You cannot do it that way. Use your mind, not your mouth. You will find it works much better. Her voice was less harsh, patient even. That certainly floored me. Was she…helping me? I tried again, this time following the queens's instructions.

I apologize, Your Grace. I am not exactly well-versed in…this. I am known as Silent Sigrun, and I am but a humble gemcutter in the Greatwood.

A slender black eyebrow rose. A humble gemcutter, you say? And yet you have attached yourself to my scry. That is not an easy thing to do, even for the most powerful of minds.

I'm sorry, Milady. I don't even know what a "scry" is. And this is an accident, I assure you. I'm not even sure what— I stopped myself babbling, and the queen looked pleased as I did. When she spoke again, I realized she had completely dropped her formal diction.

So you have some sense after all, Silent Sigrun. Now, ordinarily this intrusion would have cost you your life. I have no tolerance for trespassers in my mind. I cringed inwardly. But you are different. You and I both know that dwarves cannot pass through the Astral Way. Yet you have not only passed through it; you have latched onto it, seen things reserved for only a powerful few. And you have survived them. For this I will spare you. You may be useful to me. I sighed outwardly. The queen's lips curled in a hint of smirk.

Suddenly, the queen's face began to blur. Her voice became softer and more distant as she spoke again. Do not think our time together is over, Silent Sigrun.

What do you mean? How—? What's happening? Her face faded further and further from focus, and I began to feel again: cloth, warmth, people's hands on me. Her voice faded even further.

In a week's time, you will receive a summons. You will answer that summons and meet me at the palace. We have much to discuss, you and I.

But—

Enough. The Dream is almost over. Return to your family, and say nothing of this. You have seen things today you should not have. Do not burden them with this knowledge. Though it was extremely blurry now, her face betrayed a hint of emotion with that final piece of advice. Her brow furrowed, and she lowered her eyes. On a whim, I spoke.

I'm sorry, My Queen. All this must be a terrible burden to bear.

She gazed up at me, a look of bewilderment upon her face. She never got a chance to respond. Her face splayed out and split into several bundles of flesh and cloth around me, looks of concern on their hardy faces. Lauga held my hand, and Mother held a warm cloth to my forehead. The rest of my family was close by. I was in bed.

Goneril immediately pounced on me, squealing with delight, "Sister! You made it! Oh, Dear Gods, we thought you'd gone mad!" I squirmed in her grip, but she's always been stronger than me, so I just relaxed and her let her squeeze me until father gently pulled her off.

"Goneril was very worried about you, Sigrun," he grinned, pushing up on his glasses. "She hasn't left your side since you fell."

"Not true. I only just got here." Goneril had regained her composure. We all laughed, and I sat up slowly.

"What time is it?" I asked, trying in vain to shake out the images of what had just happened.

"Around sunset," Mother said. "We were afraid something awful had happened to you."

"What was I like?"

She turned very serious. "Well…when they brought you in you were twisting around and screaming bloody murder. It was like you were being possessed by a daemon or…some other creature. Then you just stopped, and it was like you were sleeping, but we couldn't wake you." She smiled her dimpled smile at me again, "But you're back safe with us now; that's all that matters." She took my hand and helped me up. "I've saved a piece of pie for you. The others were clambering all over themselves for it, but it's yours; I made them promise…" She chattered on, and I laughed to myself. My mother, the happiest woman in the world. Just the sort of thing a girl needs after a bone-chilling experience.

As she gabbed and gabbed, my mind drifted back to the mountain, the aberration, the feeling of dread it all gave me. I needed to process, and I had to do that alone. So I made some excuse about needing some air, and no, I would eat my pie later, Mother but thank you for asking, but of course I'd be all right, Cuch, and finally they all left. I lay back down and closed my eyes, the true weight of the past twenty-four hours drumming upon my soul like a cosmic tambor. Guilt, fear, confusion—Drizella, the monster, the queen—I couldn't help feel that all these were connected somehow, that they were pictures on a great tapestry made up of stars and stone and skin, one that told the true story of this world. I didn't have the thread to piece them together, though. So I let my thoughts in, hoping to find an answer there until I drifted off to a fitful sleep:

—What have you done, Silent Sigrun?—

I have betrayed the Queen of Schonheit.

—Why does this matter? The queen is an evil sorceress. Everyone knows so.—

Sorceress or no, I have walked the Astral Way. I have seen the sacred room where the queen stores her thoughts. I have gazed upon true evil, and it is by her hand that I live to tell of it. I owe her my life, whether she means good or ill.

—How will you face her, traitor (traitor)?—

I will be silent (silent, silent).

—Do you not think she will guess your bluff?—

I cannot say. Either way, I cannot speak.

—Why, oh Silent Sigrun? Why will you not speak?—

A thought I didn't fully understand fluttered into my mind, one that haunts me to this day.

Because they took my voice.