Chapter Twelve.
The Temple of Delvaryn was filled with a fury of noise as Belor listened to the unceasing clamour of thousands of dwarves, as more and more of his people tried to make their way through the great stone doors that had been thrown wide. About him, the artifice of his people had created a wonder of worked stone. Huge pillars carved with reliefs detailing the history of the Dwarven people and Clan Stormanvil, in particular, rose in parallel lines down the centre of the main chamber, their height disappearing into the gloom cast by huge braziers that burned brightly. Set high in the vaulted ceiling he could see great plates of black iron recessed into the stone, these hid cunningly devised shafts containing a network of mirrors that could direct sunlight from the surface down and bathe the chamber in light at need.
From his vantage point upon the tiered terrace that ran all about the chamber, he could see proud lords and ladies of Clans both great and small as they danced the delicate game of politics within his home. It had been over a century since a gathering such as this had taken place and that had culminated in a war with the Goblin scum that had raged so hot it had led the Wizards and their damned Ministry to get involved. They had sought to placate the damned Greenskin filth and had sought to place sanctions upon his people, the memory of it stoked the fury in his chest that the very thought of his race's most hated enemy sparked into being.
Now he could only watch as the priests of his gods fretted about the great stone dias at the far end of the Temple, he knew that many in the hall viewed this as a farce, even some among the most devout of the priesthood had baulked at the thought of a mere human child being the chosen voice of one of the Forge Fathers. He knew many here had hoped to see him fail, that the Seeker of Secrets would not appear and he and Clan Stormavil would lose standing in the eyes of the Dwarven people.
He despised the politics that had dogged his steps ever since he had ascended to the lordship of his Clan, he missed the days when he and his closest companions could venture into the unknown and longed for the day when his son would take over Lordship of the Stormanvil clan and he would be free to spend his twilight years doing what he wanted for a change.
Now he was watching his adopted son begin to deal with those very same problems, already, his young shoulders had borne many trials, but he knew that fate had more in store for Callian and his friends.
His gaze found its way towards the boy as Callian stood before his mother and grandfather only a few feet away. Denevan had brought a goodly number of his apprentices with him and he could see them stationed at intervals about the terrace, watching the proceedings with an intensity that would have made anyone nervous. He knew that his friend was taking no risks with Callian's safety.
It suddenly struck him just how close to ruin they all stood, if anything were to happen to Callian then he knew the wizards would fill the temple chamber with bodies. He knew Denevan better than anyone, the man was akin to family and he understood how the Wizard thought, there was nothing more important to the man than family and right now Callian stood at the heart of a tinderbox.
Should things go wrong, not that he thought they would but fate was a fickle mistress and when powerful wizards got involved you never knew where you stood. He could see the wild hair of Jastor standing behind Denevan and knew that the crazy fool would be the first into the fray should things go wrong, the erratic wizard had been vehemently against the boy being put at risk and Belor's respect for the crazy fool had only grown.
His gaze flitted over the two black-robed Unspeakables as they stood a few paces away from the rest of their party, the two had not stopped muttering to each other ever since they had arrived and he had seen both of them casting surreptitious spells when they thought they could get away with it. He knew Denevan was keeping a close watch over the duo and had to hope that his friend would not let them interfere.
His gaze caught the scowl on Amerytha's face and knew the woman was far from pleased with the idea of her son being host to this strange and ultimately unknown power, and it was only Cal's willingness to go through with it that had stymied her protests. He loved the boy for his bravery at that moment more than anything else. He did not know what awaited them in the next few days, but he knew in his heart of hearts that it would be the first step to restoring his people to their former glory. He had seen how Callian's words had seemed to light a fire in his people, how the mention of Delvaryn's return had seemed to give his people a new hope that was slowly spreading to the other clans.
He had seen more than one of his fellow lords try to find some falsehood in Callian's explanation of his meeting with Delvaryn, but the boy had responded without hesitation as he had described all that he could of meeting one of the Forge Fathers. Often he did so by falling into the old tongue of the Tyrzhan Empire and speaking it with such fluency that many seemed baffled by his words. He had had to stifle his laughter more than once as he had watched Callian having to translate his words to some of the most learned dwarf lords as if talking to an idiot child. He could not help but think that there were few dwarves alive that could match Callian's growing grasp of the old tongue.
He watched now as the boy reached up to clasp at the amulet that hung about his neck, the familiar features of his son flashing between concern and an anxious eagerness and Belor could not help but think over all that had happened since he had gifted the symbol of one of his gods to his son.
He marvelled at all that had happened since he had crafted the amulet from the Mithril they had found in the ancient ruins of the Deep Roads all those centuries ago. All he had wanted was to create a parting gift for his beloved son, a symbol of the bond the two of them shared and had raided his vaults for his most precious of metals.
What he had not told anyone, even Tyrna or Denevan, was of dreams in the days before Callian's departure. His sleeping mind had been filled with strange images, among them had been the symbol of Delvaryn which had lingered in his mind even upon waking. It had been that most of all that had led him in choosing a small amount of the Mithril they had brought back from the depths of the Deep Roads.
He had been amazed to realise what only a small fraction of the gifted metal had done for his people, and he could not deny there was a part of him that wished to see what other wonders he could craft with the small trove of ingots that he kept locked away in his most secure vaults.
With a shake of his head, he waited impatiently as he watched the priests scurrying back and forth. A lone figure, clad in a simple robe of sturdy bleached wool and embroidered with the open eye within a mountain peak of Delvaryn stood alone at the front of the congregation.
Their back hunched with the heavy weight of years, and a face so gnarled and creased with age he could barely make out the rheumy eyes that peered out from deep sunken sockets.
Slowly the ancient dwarf straightened and to Belor's mind, it was as if a mountain had suddenly sprung up from the ground as a sudden hush fell over the great chamber.
Belor knew the dwarf, as did all who called the Horncrags home.
Before them stood the Scribe of Delvaryn, the highest cleric within the Temple of the Seeker of Secrets.
Argon Stonebeak.
The dwarf was ancient. He had been old when he had served his father and grandfather in the now-lost hold of Kar Vaneth, Belor would not be surprised if the cleric was the oldest living dwarf. It had been Argon that had led him from the Kar Vaneth by tunnels that were far older than the city itself when the Goblin hordes had churned out of the deep dark beneath the world and sacked his clan's ancient home. It had been he that had guided Belor, freshly crowned with his father's bloody circlet as Lord of the Stormanvil Clan, through the endless maze of the Deep Roads and to the supposed safety of the surface.
It was Argon that had taught his sons the ancient lore of their people and helped shape them into the proud princes of his realm. Belor watched now as the cleric threw back his hood revealing a bald head tattooed with the ancient runic scripture of the Seeker of Secrets, delicate runes ran from brow to crown and descended downward again, disappearing beneath the dwarf's robe. Two thick lines of the intricate runes continued down his craggy face as they trailed down either side of the dwarf's sharp beak of a nose before disappearing beneath a beard as white as virgin snow.
"Children of the Stone, I call yeh now to witness!"
Slowly the ancient dwarf lifted his arms, and about the Temple, a rumble began to sound as the iron plates began to pull back and bright, pure sunlight poured into the chamber. Directed by mirrors beyond the openings they directed the light to bathe Argon alone as the fires within the braziers were quenched, sending the rest of the chamber into deep shadow that even his keen eyes found it difficult to pierce.
"We have answered the summons given to us by one of the Forge Fathers. Commanded to attend so that Delvaryn may speak with us as he did with our forebears in the height of our people's glory! I bid yeh now to listen as his chosen walks among us."
There was a hiss that ran throughout the crowd at the Clerics words, but Argon was unfazed now as deep socketed eyes scanned the shadows beyond the light as if daring any to speak up in protest. Belor watched with bated breath as Callian straightened as a steady drum beat began from within the depths of the temple. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder as the boy shot him a quick glance before they made their way toward the stone steps cut into the raised tier. He could see Amerytha clinging to the boy's side, her hands holding a death grip on the boy's fingers as they walked but eventually, his hand slipped from hers as Callian made his way down without a sign of hesitation.
Belor halted alongside Amerytha and together they watched Callian walk away from them, for some reason he felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he watched the boy walk away from him.
He breathed deeply as step by step he walked towards the pillar of light.
The symbol about his neck throbbed with every beat of his heart as he moved towards the dias, it only seemed to weigh heavier with every passing second and Callian knew with a certainty that terrified him that his life was about to forever change.
He could hear the harsh whispering of the untold thousands of his father's people. He could feel the heat of their gaze boring into him with all the intensity of a forge fire and he hesitated for only a second at the very borders of the pool of light.
He knew they expected him to flounder and fail, that no Divine appearance would happen. He was only human after all, and while he may be a fosterling of a Dwarf Lord it did not change who and what he fundamentally was in their eyes. He had seen it in the faces of the Dwarf Lords that he had been paraded in front of, these strangers had come to see a spectacle and watch as a powerful Lord made a fool of himself. They desired nothing more than to see a show and he had every intention of giving them one.
In answer to his thoughts, the pendant gave a thrum that seemed to shake him to his very bones, he felt a wave of amusement sweep over his mind as he sensed Delvaryn take note of his thoughts.
He knew that there was no turning back now, ever since he had told his father of Delvaryn's command that this would be the path he would have to walk. He wished his parents were with him at that minute, but he knew this was a path he had to walk alone. Taking one last fortifying breath, Callian squared his shoulders before stepping into the light and he knew no more.
A pulse of power emanated from Callian as he stepped into the light, such that Denevan had to shield his mind against the onslaught of pure power lest it drove him to his knees. About the chamber, he saw many had in fact fallen as a figure hooded and cloaked now stood where his beloved grandson had just been standing.
Standing taller than a man and powerfully built, the figure seemed a confusing blend to his mundane sense. Old and bent, young and strong, there was a strange duality to the figure just as he had seen in Callian's memories of that night in the Forbidden Forest. He had thought this to be some mere illusion, a projection of the divine passing through Callian and his amulet.
Yet, this was no ghostly apparition but a solid figure whose very presence screamed at the borders of his mind.
Delvaryn had come.
The Seeker of Secrets. One of the three creator gods of the Dwarven people stood before them and his very presence demanded obedience. Few had remained standing, Denevan could see only a few about the temple still on their feet and those that were still standing were wavering.
As suddenly as it had come the power dimmed as Delvaryn stepped into the centre of the pool of light. The Dwarven God turned eyes that glimmered with an intelligence that was frightening towards him and he heard the voice of a literal god echo within his mind.
Rest easy, Wizard. Your grandson is safe and well and will be returned to you shortly. I dare maintain the connection for a brief time, lest he come to harm.
He watched as Amerytha sagged beside him and guessed that the Divine being had spoken directly to her mind as well. He offered a nod of his head to the being, there was little else he could do and watched as the Forge Father turned back to his people.
"My children, I return to you now to bring warning and a message of hope!"
The Dwarves within the chamber were weeping openly as they stared up at the first Divine visitation their people had received in millennia.
"The fate of our people dances upon the edge of a knife! Darkness gathers at the borders of our realms. An ancient evil stirs in the mortal worlds, such that has not been seen since the last days any of the True Divine walked this earth. It is a thing of pure evil and only seeks to bring all to ruin."
Denevan was reminded of Callian's last encounter with the Dwarven God, Delvaryn had sent the boy away but not before he had seen something moving through the forest. A great clinging shadow that's merest touch had seemed to suck the very life from the surrounding forest.
'It is a servant of death and destruction. Those who serve the Shadow have grown strong in our exile, and their insidious whispers will seek to corrupt all who would pose a threat to their power and this is something I can not allow!
But have hope, my children. For in you lies the spark of salvation!'
Delvaryn's voice boomed throughout the hall and more than one winced as his words pierced the hearts and minds of all in attendance.
"The Stonecrown has long been sundered and the ancient seat of our children is now infested with the vile Goblin abominations. For too long have heirs of the Tyrzhan Empire lain idle. You must now make ready for The Reclamation.
I bid you now to take back what has been lost. To reclaim the Stonecrown and let the world tremble before the might of the Tyrnzhan Empire Once again!"
A furious cry came from the weeping crowds and Denevan watched as Belor walked towards the edge of the terrace, leaping onto the carved lip at its edge.
"Zeg zell kate a azteuld uh Azteg anun Horlan!"
It took Denevan a heartbeat to translate his friend's words, this was not the ancient tongue of the Dwarven people but the modern tongue that all within the hall spoke.
We will be a storm of steel and fury!
Others in the temple took it up and it spread like a wave throughout the cave until the entire city of Kar Zurant spoke as one.
"AZTEG ANUN HORLAN!"
Belor continued to chant, as he raised his arms, the chanting below him became a roar of approval as Delvaryn looked on with pride as he let the chant continue for several minutes before he spoke once more.
"My time grows short. I am still bound to dwell beyond the Veil. My brothers hold open the connection so that I may speak to you now, but their strength wanes.
I speak now with the full authority of the Three.
I Command you to rise and take back what you have lost. The Reclamation is upon you!"
Delvaryn fell silent then as his gaze bore into all those within the Temple.
"The Arbiters will lead the way. Guard well the Athbavgath, for in them lies the future of the Gods!"
With an explosion of power far lesser than that that had heralded his arrival the Divine being vanished, Denevan could only watch as Callian stumbled from the pool of light towards the crowd who caught him as he fell from the plinth.
A buzzing whisper swept through the Temple as the excited host of Dwarves lifted Callian's limp body into the air as a call was quickly taken up.
"Athbavgath! Athbavgath! Athbavgath!"
Denevan felt his world drop out from beneath him as he looked down at the limp and lifeless body of his grandson. Yet it paled in comparison to his daughter as she gave a cry of such desperate panic before she vanished with a deafening crack only to appear before the chanting crowds.
They swept over her like an avalanche of bearded brawn as she fought to desperately reach her child. He lost her in the crowd as he shared a panicked look with Belor, before a desperate cry issued from below.
"Father, I need you!"
Without a second thought, he took off with Belor at his side, he could hear the racing feet of the others of their party behind them but his mind was only on reaching his daughter and Callian.
Harry's mind was racing as he ran, he was only a step behind Lord Blackwood and Belor as he desperately tried to find some sign of Callian or Amerytha through the crowds that were none too gently being shoved out of their way.
His mind was racing with everything that he had just seen and he had not missed the mention of the Arbiters and he felt a wave of concern from his mother's soul churning away in the back of his mind. An angry howl came from his side as he watched the huge canine form of his transformed Godfather unceremoniously bowl over two cheering Dwarves who erupted in a furore of curses that Harry would be sure to ask his friend about.
The thought never crossed his mind that Callian had been harmed in some way, he knew instinctively that his cousin was fine.
Quickly he and Sirius chased after Denevan and Belor as they pushed through the jubilant crowd. He lost sight of Belor quickly but he could see Lord Blackwood's head and shoulders above the throng. In short order they had reached Amerytha as she knelt with Callian's head in her lap, a bubble of space had been made about them and Harry felt his skin tingle as he pushed his way through the edge of the crowd to rush to his friend's side. He could only guess at what magic now kept the jubilant dwarves at bay but ignored them all as he looked down at his friend.
Callian seemed pale, but nothing seemed wrong with him as he studied the boy. He felt that something was odd but he could not quite place his finger on it the longer he studied his friend, he could only watch as Amerytha fussed over Cal with increasing panic in her voice.
"He's not waking up! I can't get him to open his eyes! Father, do something!"
Denevan knelt hastily beside his grandson and Harry was quick to join Amerytha, he felt a flicker of fear creep into his heart despite knowing instinctively that Callian was fine. The sheer panic in her voice pulled at his heart in ways that he had never thought possible, he instinctively wrapped his arms around the woman's shoulder and was surprised to find she was shaking desperately. He could see the tears tracking their way down her face and desperately wished to help her. He was only now starting to learn what a mother's love truly was, he could only guess at the terror that gripped her, especially after nearly losing Cal only a few short days ago.
And you, sweetheart…Voldemort nearly took you away from her as well.
His mother's voice filled his mind and he stiffened slightly as her words surprised him, he realised what she said was the truth and only hugged her tighter.
He watched attentively as Denevan began casting Weaves at such a rapid pace that he often lost where one ended and another began.
"He's fine my dear, just exhausted and slightly dehydrated. I dare say that when he wakes he will have one hell of a headache."
Amerytha did not seem to be reassured by his words, as she gently shook Callian's limp form.
"But, he's not waking up! Why won't he wake up?!"
Denevan tried to comfort the woman but she seemed beyond reasoning as she clutched at Callian's robes, his words of reason seemed to pass over her completely.
Both Belor and Denevan tried to get the woman to loosen her grip, to move Callian away from the excited crowd, but their words were resolutely ignored. Harry even tried to get the woman who was becoming so dear to him to let them move Callian, but she refused to listen to anyone in the grip of her despair.
Harry did the only thing he could think of as he watched the other's grow ever more insistent as his hand snaked out with a resounding crack that silenced everyone present. Callian jolted awake with a yelp of pain as he held his now reddening cheek.
He stared at Harry with a look of sheer pained outrage.
You slapped me!"
Harry watched as Amerytha threw herself over Callian with a cry, the blonde just continued to stare at him in shock from between his mother's arms.
"You bloody slapped me!"
Harry just grinned at him and shrugged his shoulders.
"Can't have you sleeping on the job, Cal. You're making the place look untidy."
Belor's laughter filled the air about them as he patted Harry on the back. "Atta boy lad.
gotta keep this one on his toes or he'll sleep the day away."
The panic that had seeped into all of them faded away with the Dwarf's words, and Amerytha finally released her grip enough to allow Callian to stand.
Harry quickly moved to his friend's side as Callian stumbled, and between himself and Amerytha they led him into the depths of the Temple where they could find a quieter place to talk.
The Temple rang with Dwarven cries of "Arbiter!" and "Steel and Fury!" as the thousands upon thousands of jubilant Dwarves poured out of the great doors and into the city. No doubt a celebration of truly epic proportions was beginning as the Dwarven people revelled in their Divine visitation. About the room those that had followed them in the depths of the Temple now filled the small private chapel as Callian sat in a stiff backed chair of worked oak that Harry had procured from some other room. He had tried to answer as many questions that he could that were directed towards him but some he could not possibly answer.
How in the seven hells would be known what Delvaryn was thinking about the state of his clergy?
The question had been screamed at him by one young excitable cleric that barely had hairs on his ample chins. Callian's tired mind struggled to wrap his mind around the fact that the young cleric had managed to squeeze himself into his robes that now sat stretched across his rather enormous belly.
His grandfather and Jastor had been at the forefront of his interrogation after they had shuffled off those members of the Clergy that had swamped them as soon as they had arrived, they had quickly been joined by Croaker as the one-armed Unspeakable made his presence known. The man's questions were pointed and very direct and Callian got the distinct impression that he would be an unfortunate thorn in his family's side for many years to come. From watching the man he got the sense that the Unspeakable cared only for finding a way to neutralise a potential threat to the Ministry.
Callian could not help but think the man's efforts would be in vain. His memory was nearly completely blank when it came to his possession by Delvaryn, yet he could distinctly recall a glimpse of Kaladin and Harn as the two Divine beings held open the connection to allow their brother to possess him. The power they had been expending had been astronomical, the merest glimpse of it had been enough to tell him that there was no power that any one Magi could wield that would do more than tickle a God. It did however raise the question of just what it was that could hold back the full might of not just one of the Divine but all of them.
It was the thought that followed him into sleep, where his dreams churned with twisting shadows that offered him no rest.
