On the other hand, a smaller anvil was more portable, and Grimr knew of some Runesmiths with small anvils who had accomplished great deeds. "It is the skill of the smith, not the size of the anvil," he remarked sententiously. He also began to teach Snorri the beginnings of the Rune Litany, the chants which strengthened and renewed the smith's ties to the earth and its power.
Snorri paid attention with dwarven tenacity, remembering each detail. This was the path that had been carved in the mountain of his clan, and now he was cutting through toward his destiny. What the future held only Grungni knew, yet Snorri was confident that it would be found where the hammer struck the anvil. His studies were long and tedious, yet that is how he knew they must be; for in their complexities laid the unsurrendering foundation upon which the power would be channeled.
When he was apart from Grimr, Snorri would pray and sketch to determine what his anvil would look like according to the will of Grungni. Time permitting he would speak to Harald Stonebreaker for insight, their paths had intersected and thus were blended as any alloy might be.
One day, Harald was a little late arriving to meet Snorri at the tavern they had begun to frequent near the Great Hearth and the Temples. He was excited and had the focussed anger that Snorri had only seen before on a few occassions.
"Harald, what has gotten yer bellows spittin' fire?" Snorri offered to calm down his friend.
Harald quaffed half his ale at one go, then hissed a single word to Snorri, "Runemaster." He used Khazalid, of course, and the word used, which translated in Old Worlder as 'Runemaster' carried far more freight in Khazalid, meaning as it did something like "Ancient Thief and Despoiler of Sacred Dwarvish Culture."
Snorri was electrified. All Runesmiths knew of Klauser the Despoiler, who had tortured the secrets of the Runes from a poor Runesmith a thousand years ago. Who had passed this degraded 'art' on to others. Who had pillaged one of the most sacred mysteries of the dwarves. His name was entered in the Great Book of Grudges at Karak-a-Kazak, with the notation that he had been repaid unto his death. There was an open entry, though, for all who followed his path.
"What has brought that to yer lips?" asked Snorri. "Tis not somethin' to do over a flagon of ale!"
"Vemund knows where one is. Well," Harald temporized. "Sort of. A patrol found a small band of mercenaries whose Captain had a sword made by a Runemaster. The patrol attempted to question the mercenary and in the ensuing melee, the mercenary band was nearly annihilated and the captain killed. The survivors were questioned and said that the captain had left them for a few days near Breghoven in the League of Ostermark."
Snorri clenched his fists, "and he did return with the sword after visiting near Breghoven?"
"Aye," Harald nodded.
"What does Vemund intend to do about it?" asked Snorri.
"He suggested I talk to you and Master Grimr, and also to one of our scouts named Thorfinn the Short." Harald finished the rest of his ale. "The Empire doesn't like it when we go and fetch out these 'RuneMasters,' so Vemund thinks a small group should go. You, with your runic expertise. Me, to keep you out of trouble and Thorfinn to lead us there and back."
"Seems almost unfair to the 'Runemaster' and his dogs to send so many," he replied wiping the foam from his beard. "When do we leave?"
A fire lit in Harald's eye, "Seek Master Grimr and any advice he has, whilst I find Thorfinn. We'll meet tomorrow at the seventh hour at the Temple of Grungni to compare notes and pick a departure time."
"At once," he said rising. Snorri clapped Harald on the back as he went to find Master Grimr and inquire about this Runemaster and findings.
Grimr listened to Snorri's tale with mounting anger. "These abominations are an insult to all our kind. I would cooperate even with the line of Bjarni Stonehammer to bring him to justice." Since Grimr's line of Runesmith's had been feuding with Stonehammer's for centuries and generations, this was quite an oath. "Find him. Catch him if you can and take him to Karak-a-Kazak for trial. If you can not catch him, kill him rather than let him escape. Save only that of his foulness that you need for evidence. Destroy the rest. If he dies, destroy it all."
Snorri could hear the anger in Grimr's voice and was not surprised at drastic measures he called for. He nodded in agreement and began to wonder just how they would discover the location of this defiler.
Snorri arranged for some manacles, and upon hearing of his trip, Gudrun brought over some meat pasties to him to take. Leaving those and his gear at the smithy, he went to his rendezvous with Harald and the scout.
Thorfinn was well named; Snorri had never seen a full grown dwarf so short. He was a dour looking individual, with a competant air. Harald introduced him to Snorri and the three retired to the nearby tavern. Snorri filled Harald in on what he had learned, and Snorri asked the name of the mercenary captain who had been found with the sword. "Adolph Topfer," said Harald.
"A pretty minor type," said Thorfinn. "Calling him a captain is being over kind. Barely a step above a bandit cheif, really."
"He had enough hammer to get the accursed blade," commented Snorri.
"True," Thorfinn nodded. "But all that needs is enough crowns and contacts in the wrong sort of places."
Snorri grunted at the prospect of not only using corrupt runes but distributing them merely for profit. "A dog like this will have many fleas. Might require ye to squarsh a few," he directed to Harald.
"Breghoven," said Thorfinn, "Is not far from here. Less than a week's travel. It's a small town, perhaps five hundred people live there. Mostly miners and prospectors. Some of our folk dwell there, overseeing the mines and the like." He scowled, "Most of those are pretty low, or why would they live there? Oddi One-leg is a good sort, though. He's our agent there - arranges for shipping of goods back and forth, most of our exports go out through Breghoven. I think we can count on him."
"Maybe he knows of this cur Topfer and who he did business with, his band said he went to Breghoven and returned with it. A piece not common to highwaymen, perhaps he was hired for mischief," offered Snorri.
Thorfinn nodded, "We can certainly ask."
"Aye," agreed Snorri.
"So what is needful to do before we depart? Thorfinn?" asked Harald.
"I am ready to leave on an hour's notice," said Thorfinn.
"Snorri?" asked Harald.
"I only must inform my family and check with Master Grimr," he said.
"Then let us meet here at the 12th hour and be off," said Harald. He rose, finished his ale and set off to gather his gear.
After telling Halr and Alfhildr of his plans, Snorri returned to Grimr's shop and began to collect his things. There was so much unknown hanging before him, yet Snorri was calm packing up what he believed he would need. "By Grungni's Forge they will be smited," he promised as he stuffed in what possessions might prove useful. A final check of the manacles gained a wink, Snorri looped the key over his head so it hung beneath his beard. Captivated by his preparations, he failed to notice Grimr meander in carrying a heated piece of iron. With a thrust the tongs contacted the water sending a hissing cloud of steam into the air.
"Any advice fer one who has never run afoul of these rune desecrators before?"
"I've never met one either," said Grimr, "only heard and read of them. Be careful! In addition to stealing our heritage, they all practice 'magic.'" The sneer was audible in his voice.
Snorri's eyes narrowed into a scowl. How could anyone draw power from anyplace other than the earth? The mere thought of seeking that not of Grungni brought a sour taste to his mouth. "Curse them," he spat. Snorri tossed his bag over his shoulder and grabbed the axe that had tasted greenskin blood. "Ye travel with me, Master Grimr," he said tapping his chest before departing.
Thorfinn proved a more amiable companion than he had first appeared. Strangely, he seemed almost more at home above the ground than below it. He carried a hammer in the dwarvish fasion, but also had not one but two crossbows. One was an old and well maintained piece. "My father's," he said with reverence. That one he carried loaded as he scouted back and forth. Slung on the horse, there was one of the rare repeating crossbows. "Sometimes," said Thorfinn, "one bolt is not enough. This has helped me win free of more than one tight spot." He patted the weapon affectionately.
Snorri tried to look past Thorfinn's hammer. While he knew many dwarves carried the tool as a weapon, effective as it was, it bothered him that an instrument of great creation was used for such a task as destruction. It almost seemed blasphemous. Naturally Grungni could use it for both, but a mere mortal? Never! He snorted his displeasure and trudged along.
They travelled without incident along the dwarf trails leading down to Breghoven. On the fifth day, Thorfinn halted them to point down through a cleft in the mountains. "There is Breghoven. We should be there by noon tomorrow." Snorri and Harald could not see any town, but after a few moments thought they might see some tendrils of smoke such as might rise from a forge or smelter.
"Ahh," sighed Snorri with a sniff of the air. "Though it may be from foul beginnings, the aroma of iron being worked is fragrant indeed."
Early the next morning they passed a mine and saw a few human miners hard at work. The miners waved at them as they passed and returned to their labors.
The guards at the gate recognized Thorfinn and passed the dwarves through with no trouble, going so far as to mention that Oddi was at the docks overseeing the loading of a shipment. Thorfinn led them down the only street worthy of the name to the docks. Oddi One-leg, unless there were two dwarves in the town missing a leg at the knee and wearing an iron peg-leg, stood and watched as a mixed human and dwarven crew loaded several large crates onto a raft. Safely stowed, the dwarves returned and Oddi dismissed them. Turning he saw the the three newcomers and stumped over toward them. "Thorfinn, good to see you. Who are your friends?"
Snorri stepped forward, "Snorri Oddmasson and this is Harald Stonebreaker," he said by way of introduction. "Do ye know why we have come?" he asked glancing over to Thorfinn wondering how much he had told Oddi.
A wary look come onto Oddi's face. "There's a reason, is there? Well, come on back to the office then." He stumped down the road to a low house built in a typical dwarven style; there were a few steps down into a sunken room. The effect was something like a cave and comforting to the dwarven sensibility. Out of deference to his location, the roof was high enough to accomodate human visitors, but Oddi led them to a lower roofed chamber on one side where he poured glasses of a mushroom vodka for his guests. "So, Snorri Oddmasson and Harald Stonebreaker, why have you come?"
Snorri leaned in close, for he did not trust prying ears from the outsiders, and recounted the tale of the mercenary band and their defeat. Then he spoke of the rune carved sword and the insult of it to dwarvenkind and Grungni himself. With piercing eyes scanning the three men Snorri finished, "We have come to get the runecarver and destroy his accursed workshop."
Oddi listened to the tale and nodded. "Such a long-standing grudge must be settled. What do you need of me?"
"Information. We need to find out where this bandit came upon the sword and who fashioned it," he began. "Now, we aren't believin' that folks will tell us outright, since they will surely know fer what purpose we've come to town." Snorri smoothed out his beard, "do you know where the cur might have been visiting or someone who might?"
"If he came into the town, he'd have passed the guards," said Oddi. "They might know something. What was the name again?" Snorri told him. "That crew was here last spring, hired on to do a little work."
"Work doing what?" asked Snorri. "He must have joined another crew or met up with some others, for the feller who told us said he came here fer a while and came back with the sword. Maybe some of his original gang stayed on a bit longer."
"Wait a moment. It sounds like perhaps he came here with his crew for this job, then came back later by himself," said Harald.
"Aye, it does," said Snorri in agreement. "P'rhaps to retrieve a sword he saw or commissioned. We ought to find out who he worked fer and if there be any of his crew left in the town." He turned to Obbi, "can you recommend a fair place to stay? we might be a while."
"There were rumours of raiders that spring," said Oddi. "Topfer's group was hired on to help defend. The raid never came and they left in mid-summer."
"Sounds like they will hire even the most questionable of souls," Snorri commented.
"There was nothing against him, and time was short," said Oddi.
"Aye," said Thorfinn, "I remember. There was concern about the Red-Eye Clan, but they got tangled up and never organized for a march."
"As for places to stay, there's only the one inn, The Drafty Raft downt he docks. Or you could stay here. It's not a palace, but it's dry. Sturdy dwarf work, too. Good drains," said Oddi.
Snorri looked around with an approving eye, "Your hospitality is most welcomed and will be spoken of often. I would be honored to assist you when able. Does ye happen to know which unit Topfer might have been assigned to? They might know where he spent his time."
"There's only the garrison and Captain Jurgen Bachoff was and is command," said Oddi. "I don't remember who they worked with specifically."
"If Captain Bachoff's memory is as good as Oddi's then he will know," thanked Snorri as he addressed Harald. "We can speak with the Captain and see where Topfer was assigned, Thorfinn your guidance was well met. Hopefully ye will hear from us soon about our trip home."
"Be careful lads," said Thorfinn.
The barracks was near the guardhouse and a short walk through the small town. Once there a bored looking sargeant took their names in to the captain and then sent them in. Captain Bachoff was a young man with good aristocratic features, but hardened with some experience. He looked like the sort who had got his job through his family but kept it through his own skills. He bid them welcome cordially enough and asked their business.
Snorri approached, "Good day Captain. Me friend and I have come to learn of a man who served with ye as insurance agin' raids. Man by the name of Topfar." The dwarf stood solidly, feet wide apart arms bent at the elbow.
"Why? Are you thinking of hiring him?" asked Bachoff
"Would if I needed one to feed the worms, he's dead."
"I see. So you won't be needing a referral, then," said the Captain.
"No, we know the kind of man he was, we're interested in the crew he ran with or some he might have befriended while here," replied Snorri matter-of-factly.
"Does this have something to do with a Grudge?" Snorri could hear the capital G. "Topfer run afoul of your kin, did he? Can't say I'm too surprised. He didn't by any chance become worm food at your hands did he?"
"That I can promise ye, we didn't have the opportunity."
"He had a small unit, half a dozen archers, half a dozen infantry, half a dozen light cavalry. We used the cavalry as scouts," said Bachoff. "They came with him and left with him. I haven't seen any of them since."
Snorri listened intently. If Topfer made a surprise visit back to the area to get the sword, then the Captain might not have been privy to his return. With a raised eyebrow Snorri asked, "did anyone take a liking to him? P'rhaps someone he might come back to visit?"
"I couldn't say really. He and the cavalry were out scouting most of the time with one of my sargeants, the rest of the men stiffened the garrison here," he said.
"May we speak to the sargeant that accompanied him? It would help us greatly," he said politely.
"Certainly, that was him outside. Klausen!" he called. The sergeant came in. "These gentlemen have a few questions about Topfer, I though you might be able to help them." It was polite dismissal.
In the entry foyer, Klausen, "call me Dirk," pulled out chairs for the two. "What can I do to help you?"
With a nod, "Snorri's me name. We come wanting to know about Topfer, like who he might have associated with and whereabouts he hung his hat while in your service."
"Well, most of the time he was out riding with the scouts. When he was in town, he and his boys were camped near the barracks. He had a room, of course." He thought for a moment, "What'd he do?"
"He was found with a weapon that brought great concern from us," Snorri spoke honestly. "We learned he returned here to gain it, but he fell upon hard times before we could ask him about it." Snorri leaned back and fluffed his beard, "Sure would like to find out where he got it."
"Hmm. Let me ask around and see if any of the boys know anything. Are you staying at the Drafty Raft?" he asked.
"No, a bit too roomy there," Snorri said looking up at the high ceiling. "We be staying down by the docks, helping out a kinsman. Much obliged fer yer assistance."
"Where can I find you, then, if I find anything?" he asked.
"Not to worry, we'll check in with ye after awhile," Snorri rose. "A man with a duty ought not to be inconveninced more than ye are already."
"Alright then."
The two dwarves took their leave and Snorri asked Harald, "What do you think, me friend?" "They seemed quite helpful. P'rhaps too helpful, which is why I wanted to keep Obbi's name out of it. I'm not sure if Sgt. Dirk is one to be trusted."
"Really?" Harald combed his beard thoughtfully. "What's to be done, Snorri?" As they spoke they walked around the town seeing a few more of the businesses inside the walls: a smith run by a human, a smelter run by dwarves, a provisioner's shop run by a halfling, the inn, a cobbler, and more. One shop had a cleared area around it and they realized that it was an alchemist's shop, presumably the one who produced the explosives used in the mines; the clear space made perfect sense, since even dwarven alchemists blew up their labs from time to time.
Snorri started off toward the smelter, raising his hand in greeting. "Peace and warmth from Grungni's forge to you!"
"And to you," said the dwarf. He finished loading the ore hopper and stepped back. "Gurzad Gurzadsson," he offered his hand.
"Snorri Oddmasson," he said shaking the dwarf's hand demonstrating his equally strong grip. "Ah, that is a good smelt you have going there, tis good to see the ways are done right here." Snorri, hands on hips, looked on approvingly. "This here is Harald Stonebreaker, and we have come with purpose on our hearts."
"Odmasson. I think I knew your father," said the dwarf. "What purpose, do you need metal?"
"He was a good man, respected the work of hands" Snorri hung his head and paused. Returning his gaze upward, "We come looking fer an accursed rune scriber who perverts the way of Grungni. A man called Topfer was found with a sword marked with scratchings of Klausen he got here," Snorri swept his hand across the village. "Know ye anything about him or the maker of evil?"
Snorri looked deeply at the dwarf studying his eyes. Dwarves were bad liars, and while it might be a detriment at times; sometimes it proved to be a benefit when questioning one.
"A bad business," said Gurzad. "Topfer ... he was that mercenary a year or two back? I'm not sure what you need, though. What would I be looking for? I'm a simple dwarf, smelting ore into metal. Would this scratcher of false runes need metal?"
"Aye, he would." Snorri looked over at the human smithy, "He would be able to fashion swords of great power and other aberrations. Do you know of any who use high quality ore to make weapons and armour beyond their public production. This cur would sell his wares to those who care not for good practice but the ways of deceit and evil."
"Topfer used his baneful blade to attack our kind, and met with a swift end he did. We have come to stop the one who makes these tools. We have learned that he served here as a scout and then possibly returned for the sword."
"There are quite a few in the town who use my ore. The smith, of course. Iron mostly for him, and alloys. The jeweler uses gold and silver. The alchemist uses some gold and silver, some iron and steel, and bits and pieces of whatever strange stuff comes in - copper, tin and so on." He thought, "the rest of it either goes down river or back into the mountains to the dwarfhold."
Snorri grunted. "Humpf, any orders that caused your beard to itch?" The apprentice hoped that there might be an instance which seemed odd to the smelter whether it be an unusual request or new buyer.
"Not really," the dwarf shrugged. "Sorry."
Snorri thanked him and suggested to Harald that they go talk with the alchemist. "A man like that ought to know much of what goes on here," he commented.
The alchemist's door was closed and locked, although noises and strange sounds came from within. Deciding that interrupting an alchemist who was working with explosives might not be a good idea, they decided to have dinner at the Drafty Raft first and try again later.
Over dinner, Harald and Snorri decided the smith was worth investigating, and after finishing their meal they went over that way. The smith, Karl Schmidt, was just closing down his smithy and forge when the dwarves arrived. Snorri was, a little despite himself, impressed with the way the smith ran his shop. It was organized and efficient and he shut down the forge and smithy with a cool competence. He saw the dwarves, but did not hurry the job. Neither did he drag it out, he simply finished it in its proper time then walked over to his guests.
"Hail there," called out Snorri. "Closing down fer the night I see."
"Aye, 'twill be too dark to work soon," he said.
Snorri looked up into the sky, "Pity. I had hoped to refit me helmet a bit," he lied. Truth be told, the helmet was a tad big as it did belong to his uncle, while the fit was loose it wasn't distracting. To illustrate his point Snorri rattled it back and forth on his head. "Ye have an impressive shop, from what I can see. If ye would let me use a hammer and anvil I can take care of this meself."
It would take a couple of swings, Snorri knew; but hopefully he could engage a fellow smithy in talk which would tell him what he wanted to know...not to mention a chance to look around the shop in more detail.
The man bristled, "It's *my* shop. Maybe it's not much by dwarven standards, but I can damn well refit a helmet. But I'm closed. Come back tomorrow morning."
Snorri snorted at the man, "No offense meant. Didn't want to further burden ye after a long day of working the iron, s'all. T'will see you in the morn, that is unless me helmet falls down over me eyes," he chuckled.
The man relaxed a little, "Give it here."
Snorri removed his helmet and began to gab away, "Sorry fer that misunderstandin', I'd never insult a man's shop especially one as fine as this. Is it in yer bloodlines? Me daddy was a smithy, used to do plows as well as fancy things. I can't help but notice the need fer weapons 'round here, heard about the raids. You the main supplier?"
"Aye, I get most of the work. Swords, unnh. Spear heads, uhnn. Arrow heads, uhnn. There," he handed the helmet back. "Not much call for amour, not new armour. Hammering dents out and things like this." He waved at the helmet. "Most of the new armour either comes on the bodies that will wear it or from Karak-Kadrin."
Despite his garrulous ways, Snorri's eyes darted too and fro around the shop both admiring and searching for anything that might identify the man as the rune carver.
He saw nothing that would arouse his suspicion, but then anything too damning would hardly be out in the open.
Snorri took the helm and examined it with a smile. "Adequate job for a human," he said in Dwarven jovially trying to determine if this man spoke their native tongue.
The man had no reaction that Snorri could see.
"Ah this is perfect," he said trying it on. "Reminds me of a Khazalid proverb, you know it Harald," Snorri prefaced before speaking in Khazalid, "Be alert my friend and guard the door."
Snorri waddled around turning his head from right to left checking the helmet's fit and then removed it. With his helm held under his arm Snorri asked, "Topfer spoke highly of you and your weapon crafting skills."
"Topfer ... oh, the mercenary!" The smith looked a littl confused. "I don't think I did much work for him. Maybe some arrows. I did hammer out some dents in his breastplate."
"So you did not make him a sword?" asked Snorri.
"No. He might have gotten one of my swords from the garrison if he needed a new one. I keep them in stock with a few spares," said the smith.
"Are you the only supplier to the garrison? This was a mighty fine sword he was waving about, not one that would remain unchosen fer long," commented Snorri.
"I'm the only local source," said the smith with pride.
Snorri sagged at the reply. "From who else could he receive such a sword then?"
"Locally? No one I know of," said Schmidt. "He could of gone into the mountains to the dwarves or downriver. Why all the concern over Topfer's sword?" he asked suspiciously.
"He didn't get it from any dwarf!" Snorri shouted, taking offense. Quickly he fought to regain his composure, "He had a sword with accursed runes, he did. Ones that would offend any who held a hammer."
"Accursed runes?" said Schmidt with every appearance of honest confusion. "But only the dwarves can craft runes."
"Not these," whispered Snorri eyeing the man closely.
"Really? There are ways for others to craft runes," the man's eyes lit up. "To craft runes, that must be a great thing."
"Only if done right, else the weight of the forge will be upon ye." Snorri looked to Harald tying to get an indication from him in interpreting the situation. The smithy didn't appear to be the carver, but if not him then who?
Harald shrugged his shoulders, this was not his forte.
Snorri looked around the shop, and consented. "Well, if ye hear of any strange weapons or carvings, look closely at whoever is going the talking. We'll be back." Snorri placed his helmet atop his head and tossed a few coins to the man before following Harald out.
Snorri, Harald and Thorfinn spent a quiet night, each considering what they had learned. They arose and Oddi provided a simple cold breakfast, over which Harald asked Snorri about the day's plans. "Shall we visit the alchemist or checking in with Klausen?"
"First we shall visit the alchemist to see what he might have to add, then we can go check in with Klausen."
"Very good," said Harald. They finished their meal and made their way to the alchemist. They caught him before he had retreated into his laboratory and introduced themselves. He told them his name was Albrecht Duremar and asked what he could do for them.
"We are looking for some information," Snorri began hoping to appeal to the man as a craftsman of sorts. "A human, Topfer was found with a sword bearing accursed marks that he was to have gotten it here, know ye anything about this?"
"Topfer, the ah, mercenary?" said the man. "No, nothing. Swords are not my work. Explosives. For blasting and the like. In mining."
"I know it well," mused Snorri. "Tell me, who did this Topfer tip ale with? pr'haps his friends know more about where he gained his sword."
"Topfer, the ah, mercenary?" said the man. "No, nothing. Swords are not my work. Explosives. For blasting and the like. In mining."
"I know it well," mused Snorri. "Tell me, who did this Topfer tip ale with? pr'haps his friends know more about where he gained his sword."
"Umm, I think I saw him with the blacksmith a few times," said Duremar.
"So he said," confirmed Snorri. "During the daylight, or under the cover of darkness at odd hours?"
There was a long pause, then, "At least one time after dark. I was, that is, I couldn't sleep, so I was looking outside late and I saw Topfer go to the smithy."
"When was this? a week ago, longer?" Snorri glanced to Harald. "Have you seen or heard of Topfer following this night meeting?"
"A few months ago, maybe?" said the alchemist. "I haven't seen him since."
Snorri thanked the man and asked on his farewell, "The smithy, does he have another residence or workshop? do ye see him leave for someplace else?"
"Not that I know of," said Duremar.
When the dwarves arrived at the barracks, Dirk was eager to see them. He ushered them into a private place and began to talk. "The smith, Karl Schmidt. I learned that he had extensive dealings with Topfer."
"Aye, that is what we have learned as well," revealed Snorri. The dwarf raised an eyebrow, "Do ye want to accompany us to investigate further? We aim to search his shop from foundation to rafters."
"Yes, I'd like to come," said Klausen. He fetched his sword belt from a peg on the wall.
Snorri eyed the sword Klausen affixed to his waist. "Mind if I, just to make sure...?" the question trailed off as the bearded investigator held out his hand.
Klausen handed over the weapon, and Snorri checked it. Satisfied it was not the work of a foul Runemaster he returned it.
The three made their way down to the smithy where Schmidt was shoeing a pony while its owner stood near a cart with obvious impatience.
"Ye should have hired a dwarf," commented Snorri speaking to the impatient customer, " if ye wanted an honorable job, that is."
Schmidt raised his head sharply. "Master dwarf," he said. "I'll think you not to insult me or my work. You were complimentary enough when I fixed the helmet you wear now." He rammed the last nail home and took up a pair of shears to snip off the end of the nail. "I've put up with enough from you. Get out of my smithy," he snapped, snapping off the nail sharply. Taking a file he began to rasp the end down. "I've got work aplenty waiting for me."
"They might have to wait," began Snorri. "It isn't yer work that I've loss me fondness of, it's yer choice of means. We plan to seize evidence that you are the runecarver we seek." Snorri stood ready for whatever his reaction might be.
Schmidt looked at him incredulously. "Are you mad? If I could do such a thing would I content myself with this?" He finished filing the shoenail and put the pony's foot down. He stood, towering above the dwarves. "This is insanity."
"Then stand aside whilst we confirm yer claims of innocence," Snorri said waving Dirk over toward Schmidt. "Harald, stand guard while I search his shop."
Schmidt made a move to stop Snorri, but Dirk drew his sword and Schmidt subsided. Harald gripped his axe and stepped closer. Dirk went to Snorri, "We'd best move fast. We'll draw a crowd. I'll help."
Snorri approached Schmidt to shove him inside as they began their investigation. He was surprised to find that Schmidt possessed no magical talent. He could not be the Runemaster they sought unless he had found a way to mask his ability, and Snorri did not think that was possible. He could still be working with the Runemaster, providing the technical skills, but he could not be inscribing the runes himself.
Disappointed, Snorri continued his investigation in hopes of applying pressure on Schmidt. As he walked around the shop he spoke, "Schmidt, we know ye spent time with Topfer. And we know Topfer had dealings with a Runemaster. Ye are not him, but I believe ye know who is." The dwarf stared deep into the man's eyes, "Tell us who the accursed scriber is and save yerself."
As he got nearer, Snorri's voice gained in volume repeating "Tell us. Tell us. Tell us." Nary a foot away Snorri huffed and bellowed the same.
"I think you may be wrong, master dwarf," came Dirk's voice from behind Snorri. "What do you make of this? I found it at the back of the forge." Dirk came up with a leaf from a book, a bit burned around the edges, and offered it to Snorri.
The dwarf could see that it was a description of rune, but not one that he knew, one of the accursed runes of Klauser. Perhaps the page was even out of the damned "Book of Runic Mastery."
Snorri grunted and held the burned page up, "Explain this Schmidt."
"How can I? I've never seen it before," he said. "What is it?"
"Evidence to convict ye, it is" growled Snorri. "Twas found in yer forge, ye in the habit of allowing many to use yer shop? I think not." The dwarf stomped around the room waving the singed paper aloft, "found with the vileness of the Book of Runic Mastery means a prolonged punishment," he ranted.
"Evidence to convict ye, it is" growled Snorri. "Twas found in yer forge, ye in the habit of allowing many to use yer shop? I think not." The dwarf stomped around the room waving the singed paper aloft, "found with the vileness of the Book of Runic Mastery means a prolonged punishment," he ranted.
"I've no idea how that got into my forge," said the smith, fear beginning to show on his face. "I didn't put it there. I've never seen it!"
"Oh?" asked Snorri. The dwarf lurched over to the forge and stuck his head in drawing it out and brushing his beard. "How did it end up there then? who put it there if it was not you!"
"I've no idea how that got into my forge," said the smith, fear beginning to show on his face. "I didn't put it there. I've never seen it!"
"I don't know, I swear it! I don't know!" cried the smith now clearly terrified.
"Bah," exclaimed Snorri in disgust. "No one has used yer forge but yerself?" he asked suspiciously.
"No one," said Schmidt.
"Ye have never found a hammer out of place, an ember in the morning, or filings on the floor when ye arrived in the morning?" he asked. What had begun as a promising road was quickly turning into a collapsed tunnel, Snorri looked at the fragment of paper. "Come to think," said the man, "there was a little mess by the forge this morning. I thought I had missed it last night when I closed up ... but someone must have come in last night and put that in my forge."
"A likely story," said Dirk, coming up close. "No one could use your forge without you hearing it. It must be yours. He realized you were closing in on him, Snorri, and tried to burn anything linking him to his crimes."
Snorri approached, putting his hand on Dirk's shoulder. "Now, now we mustn't be too hasty. Who else in the town dabbles with the tong and hammer?"
"None that I know of, save perhaps the other dwarves," said Klausen, hurriedely raising a hand, "No offence."
Snorri passed over the offending comment for he was in deep thought, and looked to Harald. "It cannot be. I did not sense any corruption around the smelter. Are there other kinsmen here?"
"In the town, aye, but surely they would stoop so low." He thought, and spoke in Khazalid, "Perhaps a hidden forge somewhere in the town?"
Snorri continued in their native tongue, "Pr'haps there be. Yet they sought to destroy the book here, to lead us astray and thereby punish this man? It is possible, still they would need ore to operate a forge and that would cause questions."
"But how much metal would they need? How many of these accursed swords do they makee in a year? They could acquire that much metal without difficulty," said Harald.
"Aye and that they could get from anywhere," responded Snorri. He turned his attention back to the humans, "Schmidt, this morning when you found the ash was there anybody waiting for ye outside?"
"No," said the man, relaxing a little, "This customer came by a little later after I had the shop opened."
"This customer, you know him?" he asked Dirk.
"No, but his cart and pony are from one of the mines up in the hills. I've shoed her before. Her other three hooves still had my shoes on 'em. She threw the other on the way into town, the man said," said Schmidt.
"His trade?" Snorri asked, adding "have you ever repaired any smithing tools for him?"
"I've never seen this man before, so this was the first work I've done for him," he considered. "You seek another smith? The nearest I know are in your own dwarfhold or some fifty miles downriver."
"I see," commented Snorri tugging his beard in thought. "We should probably look to the hills and this man, pr'haps he might have seen someone leaving the shop who could have burned the book."
The dwarves warned Schmidt not to leave town and went to get Thorfinn. From there, they went to Captain Bachoff to see if they could borrow Dirk for the day. He agreed and soon they were all off after the wagon, following the directions Schmidt had given.
They caught up with the slow moving cart in mid-afternoon. It was following the path Schmidt had told them about, heading toward a mine with a load of food and supplies.
"Good day sir," called out Snorri. "Might we have a word with you," he asked approaching the wagon.
The man reined in. "Aye, I suppose. Is it something about the smith? I warn you, I barely know him."
Snorri offered his hand, "Me name is Snorri Oddmasson, and we was wondering if ye saw anyone about the smithy's shop upon yer arrival."
"No, I didn't. Mind, I wasn't particularly looking. The pony threw a shoe and I didn't realize it 'till I was loading up these morning. It's a full days travel to the mine and I didn't want to get a late start," he said. "I was there from just before dawn, but I didn't see anyone."
The foursome bid the man good day and turned around. They had passed a mining camp an hour or so before, and Dirk suggested they make for that to spend the night since they would be unable to make it back before dark. Thorfinn knew the place and had a friend there and so it was decided.
As the marched, Harald asked Snorri what their next step would be.
"The beginning," Snorri began. "Somebody has chosen to lead us astray by pointing the finger of guilt at Schmidt. Now, there aren't many who know of our purpose here." Snorri pointed ahead up to Dirk, "he might have told some in his investigating, but I think it was someone we talked to." The dwarf kicked at the dust, "Bah, I don' like bein made the fool."
"When we return, we go to the alchemist. He is private enough to be apart from the others, in secret he could have a forge. Plus he was quick to name Schmidt and Topfer as meeting. Our conversation will be a bit more pointed, I tell ye." Snorri fished around in his pocket and produced the charred page, if only there was someway to determine if any chemicals clung to the parchment. He sniffed it, and hoped that they were getting closer.
They arrived at the camp, and Snorri made some perfunctory inquiries about ore sales and dealing with the alchemist. When those were done and they were settling down for the night, Dirk commented, "All those questions about old Duremar ... you think he might be your man, eh?"
"Pr'haps," Snorri replied not wanting to make an acusation too hastily having learned his lesson about Schmidt. "He was quick to tell us that he seen Topfer and Schmidt talking at night round about the time that Topfer gained the accursed sword. An' he is a learned man when it comes to alchemy, which means he is one to have books, living alone with the means to keep away adds to the suspicion."
Dirk nodded, "Seems reasonable."
"Aye, although I believe old Duremar will be quite UNreasonable when he sees us next." "You better get some rest, we may hear the clang of steel tomorrow," confessed Snorri.
When Snorri, Harald and Thorfinn awoke the next morning, Klausen was gone.
Snorri scrambled about, "Did anyone see him leave?"
Neither Harald nor Thorfinn had seen anything, and upon inquiry neither had any of the miners.
"Blast it!" bellowed Snorri. "Hurry, we have to return to town before he warns Duremar." Snorri jumped to his feet and began to gather his things.
Harald and Thorfinn gathered their equipment quickly as well, and soon the three were trotting back toward the town as quickly as they could.
Some hours later, they arrived at the gates. The guards seemed surprised to see them. "Where's the Sargeant," asked one. "Did you miss him on the road?"
"What do ye mean?" asked Snorri.
"He left a few hour ago with the alchemist, said that you'd found something up the road and needed his help," said the guard.
Snorri looked back at Harald and Thorfinn concerned. "Which way did they go?" he asked the guard, adding "were they on foot?"
The guard indicated a path, "That way. They had a pack pony."
Snorri looked to Thorfinn, "can ye track them?"
"I can try," said the scout and he walked over to examine the tracks.
He then turned to the guard, "what lies out there?"
"Depends. If they head east, it's into the mountains. If they head west, that's toward Waldenhof."
Waldenhof, Snorri knew was the capital of the cursed province of Sylvania whose northern border was the Upper Talabec.
He snarled at the prospect, "How long ago did they set off?"
"A little after dawn," said the man. It was noon now.
Snorri turned to Thorfinn and said solemnly, "May the embers of Grungni's Forge light our way."
Snorri turned to Thorfinn and said solemnly, "May the embers of Grungni's Forge light our way."
Thorfinn nodded. The dwarves hurried inside and gathered their belongings and loaded the packhorse. On hearing their suspicions, Oddi vanished and reappeared twenty minutes later with two men carrying replinishments of their provisions.
Shortly after that, they were on the trail of the alchemist and the sergeant.
Snorri tried to keep his grumbling to a minimum, his anger was simmering but at least they had a lead. He turned to Harald, "The long legs think they have outsmarted us, it is their mistake."
Harald merely nodded and kept up the steady pace.
Thorfinn had a fairly easy time of it following the tracks, there was little traffic along the path since the river was a far easier road. By nightfall they had not seen their quarry, but they were firmly on their trail.
Snorri didn't want to push the others too hard for what lay ahead would most certainly require their best effort. Fortunately he could count on their dwarven sense of duty and hardiness. He looked over to Harald and Thorfinn taking a deep breath, "Push on." It was more a statement than a question, yet either would suffice when it came to his loyal friends.
The pressed on in the darkness on the assumption that their prey would keep to the road. After a few hours, Thorfinn, Harald and the pony were all showing signs of exhaustion so Snorri called a halt. Harald looked admiringly at him. "Truly you are a dwarf of iron, Snorri."
Thorfinn nodded, "Legs of iron at least."
"Hours by the forge and toting ore will do it for ye," Snorri commented with a smile.
The next morning, Thorfinn examined the road. "They are still on the road."
"Lead on Snorri Ironlegs," said Harald.
A few hours later they halted for a moment by what Thorfinn said was the camp of the renegades. "By this, I'd say they are four hours ahead of us. If what the guard told us is accurate, they should reach Waldenhof tomorrow night unless they turn aside."
Prophetic words, for a few hours later the trail turned to the southwest, leaving the road and heading into the haunted forests of Sylvania.
Snorri looked on and wiped his mouth. After smoothing his beard he sighed and turned to Thorfinn. "I cannot ask ye to venture into the depths with us, as we were commissioned to bring back this defiler with no chance fer reprieve. Ye are not so bound, however we'd welcome yer stoutheartedness all the same."
"Do nae be daft," said Thorfinn. "Ye'll not be able to track them without me. Come along." So saying he led the way off.
As nightfell, the pursuit was still underway. Thorfinn didn't think they had lost any ground, but neither did he think they had made up any.
Snorri was concerned about traveling in the forest at night, but it was the only way to assure them no further loss of ground. "Thorfinn, do ye think we can catch them if we press on thr'out the night?"
"Hard to say. If we do not drop ourselves, we might be able to make up the distance," he said.
"Aye, tis a risk," Snorri conceded. "If we get close enough we can rest up and make our plans, but until that time we need to catch them." Snorri continued on a few more paces and wiped his brow, "If the burden gets too much we can stop. Grungni will see us through."
With that they pressed on. The hours passed and fatigue began to settle on the dwarves and their horse. Just as Snorri was beginning to think that they must call a halt or lose the pony, Thorfinn stopped the party. "There," he pointed.
In the distance, only a few hundred yards away was the dim glow of a campfire which had almost burnt itself out.
Snorri doubled over finding his kneecaps with his hands, and softly chuckled through his exhaustion. "Well done Thorfinn. We have showed the long legs what we are made of. They are not too far ahead of us, and that puts us on level rock." Snorri stumbled over to Harald and patted him on the shoulder. "We rest fer a bit, and begin anew. Fresh and forge-hot."
"Thorfinn, keep an eye peeled on them and see where they go. As long as they do not know we are here, they should continue their march without haste." He stretched out and fluffed his beard, "A few hours of sleep fer me and I'll be ready to take the watch from ye."
Thorfinn nodded and set to keep a watch.
The night was already half gone and so none of the dwarves were feeling too fresh when the sun rose. From their position they could see their prey from relative safety. The Klausen and Duremar rose early and broke camp quickly, they set off with some evidence of haste, not, Snorri thought, because they thought the dwarves were right behind them, but rather because they knew the dwarves were somewhere behind them. They moved quickly but without panic.
With his bones creaking, Snorri sidled up to Harald. "They move with purpose, as will we. Although, none of us is prepared for conflict. Still we must go." Snorri grabbed his pack and looked to Thorfinn, "how long before they reach Sylvania?"
"We are already in Sylvania," said Thorfinn. "Although until we cross the river, we are not in the truly dangerous parts. Everything west of our mountains is Sylvania."
"Ah, then how far to the river?"
"I don't know for sure. If we had kept to the road, we should have reached Waldenhof, and the river runs south of that. So not far, I think," said Thorfinn. "I do not range so far west as this of habit."
Snorri grunted affirmatively, "We need to get them 'fore the river." He looked at Harald and Thorfinn and almost sympathetically started off toward their targets. The pace would be steady, but not as pressing as before.
A few hours later, they struck the river. Duremar and Klausen stopped to examine it for a few moments, then turned left to follow the river south.
"A bridge," Snorri said aloud. He turned to Harald and Thorfinn, "we can march parallel to the river and make our move." Trying to stay concealed Snorri led the group along the riverside south.
After another hour the pair paused again and examined the river. After some debate, Klausen stripped off his mail and put it on the pony. He grabbed a large branch and began to wade out into the river.
"They're going to ford it here," said Harald.
Sure enough, shortly after Klausen began to cross, testing his way with the branch, Duremar led the pony into the river along the same path.
A curse left Snorri's lips as he feared the passage too deep for he and his men. "We need to find a place to cross," he asked Thorfinn who was better suited to such things.
"Why not hit them now?" asked Harald.
The dwarves saw an opporutunity and saw it slipping away at the same time. Casting aside the reins to the pony and grabbing their weapons they rushed pell-mell down toward the ford.
Astonishment was writ large on the faces of the two men in the midst of the river crossing, but they recovered quickly as Thorfinn raised his repeating crossbow to his shoulder.
Klausen scrabbled for his crossbow as Duremar began to chant and raised his arms. The light bolts of the repeating crossbow struck around Klausen who shouted a spell and a mist descended upon the three dwarves, blocking all vision almost instantly.
As Snorri's vision waned his ire grew, with greater zeal his legs pumped and he bellowed out a war cry from the depths of his barrel chest. The cry was twofold, first he was mad that was a given but it also indicated to Harald where he was and spurred them on as they sought to outrun the cloud. Secondly, he intended to spook the pony and cause a distubrance in the river which would distract their foes.
Klausen drew a sword, for slow as they were the dwarves were moving faster than the pony in the river. He stepped out to meet Harald. Sharptooth rose and fell and the river began to run red with Klausen's blood.
Snorri felt confident that Harald could dispatch Klausen despite the waves washing over his dwarven companion's smouldering head. Onward Snorri rushed through the waters with his eyes upon Duremar, preparing to duck underneath for cover.
"Get away!" shouted Duremar as he saw dwarven death advancing. He shouted out a spell again and rose from the surface of the water, flying toward the far shore. Snorri shouted in rage and turned in time to see a blow from Klausen's sword-hilt knock Harald beneath the waves.
Torn between pursuit and loyalty, Snorri turned and charged Klausen readying his axe above the waters. If he could remove Klausen as a threat, he reasoned, Duremar would lose an ally and his supplies which were presumably lashed to the pony. Tracking him down would then prove easier, or so Snorri hoped.
Klausen turned and swung at Snorri who blocked the blade with his axe. Then suddenly a crossbow point sprouted from Klausen's shoulder just a few inches in front of Snorri's face. Klausen gave a short snort, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he slipped down under the water.
With a wink Snorri hailed Thorfinn's aim and then looked to where he had last seen Harald and began to reach under the water for a handhold.
A dazed Harald came up, snorting and spitting water and with a glazed look in his eyes. After setting him aright, Snorri fished around for Klausen, but came up empty.
On the far shore, Duremar had landed and was scurrying for the trees, staggering once when Thorfinn put a crossbow bolt in his right arm but then he was in cover and out of sight.
"Ye can run and hide like the dog ye are, but we're going ta catch ye!" Snorri called out to the treeline.
The dwarf then whispered to Harald, "Are ye alright me brother?"
Harald nodded, but then started to slip down into the river again. He caught himself on the pony's stirrup. "P'raps not."
Then the two hunched down behind the pony and began to press forward to the other side of the river where they could hunt for Duremar. Snorri hoped that Thorfinn's bolt would prevent the defiler from casting more infernal magic and also lead them to his hideout.
Thorfinn joined them in the crossing with the other pony. "Now we're in the dark part of Sylvania, not the place with the most evil reputation, but a dark and blasted land naetheless."
The forest did look twisted and stunted. Scrawny trees fought for what ever meager sustenance there was in the ground. Thorfinn examined Harald, then took Snorri aside. "I'm no expert, ye ken, but Harald is in a bad way. That bump on the noggin may have cracked his skull. It's beyond my small skill to fix. If he doesn't get to a surgeon soon, he might well die."
"Blast it," cursed Snorri. Softening, he spoke quietly "aye, he is a valiant warrior and would never waver. Go, take him back." Snorri continued, "I will continue our search for the cur. Leave me with supplies, if ye can."
Snorri began to look at the captured pony and what rested thereupon, hoping there was something there that he could use in his search. He found some money, food and water, and most damning, a copy of "The Book of Runic Mastery" missing the page which had been found at the blacksmith's. There was also a small anvil and a set of engraving tools.
Harald watched all these preparations and said, "Why do we wait here? Let's after the villain!"
With deliberate steps Snorri walked over to Harald and put a hand on his shoulder. "Harald, my friend, the villain is caught between the hammer and anvil because of your bravery. But ye are wounded by their treachery, and need the attention of a healer." Snorri reached for Sharptooth and guided it back into Harald's belt hanger, "Thorfinn will take you back."
Harald began to protest, but then his eyes glazed over and he stumbled. "Your strength shames me," he said. "But I'll go."
"Take these accursed effects as evidence, they will be destroyed properly. Duremar cannot last much longer beneath the stars," Snorri said to Thorfinn.
"Aye," said Thorfinn. "I've split the food giving you as much as I can. We'll be able to buy more in Waldenhof."
Snorri held out his hand, "Many thanks. Deliver the evidence to Master Grimr and tell him of my task." "I might not return," he looked into the twisted forest, "but by Grungni's favour this grudge will be repaid."
Thorfinn and Harald started up the river, then stopped. Thorfinn came back carrying his crossbow. "Take this. It may serve you in good stead. I've still got my repeater, so don't fear for us." Then he returned to the pony, on which he had mounted Harald and the continued along their way.
Snorri set off into the woods in the direction Albrecht Duremar had taken. With little to guide him but that he continued on in a more or less straight line. After a while, he struck a trail and after a moment's consideration he turned left to follow it's more southerly track.
Of his prey there was no sign, but he refused to slacken his pace. Grugni would guide him, he was sure.
A cry from up ahead broke the silence of the blasted forest. It sounded like a man in fear for his life.
Snorri clutched the crossbow in his mighty grip and set off toward the screams. He was not a man well versed in the missile weapon, preferring the beard-to-beard fighting of his training but the bolts would help him claim victory if Grungni so willed it. With care he approached, ready for what horrors lay ahead.
Leaving the pony behind he closed in. As he did, he heard awful sounds from ahead, almost like language but low, sloppy and debased. Through a break in the trees, he saw the road had turned and in the middle of it lay Duremar, still and unmoving. Around him argued three men. No, not men precisely, like men, but misshapen. Crouched and slack, they argued over the body of the fallen man.
Snorri closed his eyes momentarily calling upon Grungni and the ring of good fortune that had delivered Duremar to his hand. The creatures were another problem, however. A pronounced nose twitch curled Snorri's upper lip as he whispered "Chaos" and spat to the side. The beasts might have been bickering over who would dine on the runecrafter, which would be a fitting demise but Snorri knew that not even Duremar deserved such an end. He demanded justice, dwarven justice and Snorri was determined to dispense it.
Slowly the dwarf cocked the crossbow and waited.
After bickering for another moment, the trio turned to the fallen man and knelt. They lowered their heads and clearly meant to dine.
"Grungni, guide my bolt," prayed Snorri as he let the crossbow strike.
The bolt took one of the creatures cleanly in the chest and it flopped around screaming insanely and clutching at its breast. All three raised their heads like jackals scenting the wind. They saw Snorri and one came charging toward him, while the other two, including the wounded one, shook their heads and returned to their meal.
Snorri had time to reload but not to fire before the thing was on him. Not so much a creature of Chaos this, but rather a foul abomination that smelt of death and the grave. Snorri pushed it clear after its initial rush and hacked at its limbs with his axe, trusting to his own toughness and armour to keep its foul claws at bay. A strong blow smashed the arm and squealing like a pig the creature raced for the woods. Snorri's parting swipe with the axe missed.
Short legs churned, carrying Snorri to the fallen Duremar as he swung his axe broadly and tried to sound menacing.
The wounded creature turned just in time to take Snorri's axe full it the chest. It dropped without a sound, ribs cracking like twigs under the blow.
The other screamed, took a half-hearted swipe at the dwarf, raking claws harmlessly across his mail, then fled into the woods leaving Snorri alone with the two bodies. One, a ghoul Snorri decided it was, was dead; it would eat no more carrion and terrify no more travellers. The other was Duremar, and he was alive, though barely. He seemed paralyzed and the wound on his arms and legs where the ghouls had been tearing his flesh looked ghastly.
"Time to pay yer dues," he barked over Duremar beginning to drag the paralytic back to where he had left the pony. Snorri intended to retrieve the manacles, gag, and lock up the defiler. Then, the journey back home would begin.
He finished the binding and gagging process just as Duremar began to recover the use of his limbs. Almost transifixed with terror, he stared at the implacable dwarf as they began their journey home.
From here, It was anticlimactic. Snorri retraced his route to the river and went as far north as possible before dark, when he made a careful camp. The next day by noon he hit the pathetic town of Waldenhof, capital of Sylvania. Little familiar as he was with Imperial towns, even Snorri could tell that Waldenhof was barely more inhabited than the mining town of Breghoven, although clearly it could house several thousand.
Snorri limped in and expected the worst. After all, here was a dwarf with a human bound and gagged draped over a pony that had obviously been on the road for quite sometime. Sylvania, however, proved to be true to its reputation and few gave him a second look. He hoped that Thorfinn and Harald had made it without incident and a familiar pony lifted his spirits.
He found Thorfinn and Harald at the single inn which looked at all passable, although it was poor enough by dwarven standards. Harald had a bandage around his head and Thorfinn told him that the doctor had cut a hole in his skill to drain the fluid that had been building. Harald looked much better and professed himself able to travel. After some discussion, Thorfinn and Snorri purchased a cart the better to transport Harald as he recovered. They also had the surgeon look at Duremar and treat his wounds. They had become infected but the surgeon lanced them and said he would live. "Aye, to stand trial in Karaz-a-Karak," said Harald. Duremar also was transported on the cart and fed under close guard with only one hand freed at a time.
They passed through Breghoven and stopped to explain to Captain Bachoff all they had learned. He expressed sorrow and concern about the foulness into which Klausen had fallen. "After all," he said, "he was a good sergeant."
"Aye, a boy swayed by the promises of a madman" offered Snorri in attempts to console the Captain.
In Snorri's absence, the Captain had opened and searched the alchemist's shop, finding a small forge hidden in a back room. "There were always such strange noises coming from the place, no one noticed the sounds of hammering." There were other signs of magic and Runemastery there as well, and Snorri added them to his pile of evidence.
From there it was back home to Karak-Kadrin, where Snorri reported to Grimr all that had happened and plans were made to take the rune-scratcher to Karak-a-Kazak.
What a trip it was! The wonders Snorri saw and the eminent Rune Lord's to whom his uncle introduced him left Snorri's head whirling. The astonishment Snorri felt far outweighed his exhaustion and tried to remember every detail of what he saw.
He gave his evidence to a series of Rune Lords, Priests of Grungni and Priests of Thungni. Finally, he and Grimir were told that the trial was complete, punishment had been meted out and they were free to go.