Book 3: Chapter 2: Goldstone Clan Grumble

Book 3: Chapter 2: Goldstone Clan Grumble

When you want to do a big reveal, ambiance is important. If you hold the seance for grandpa on the lawn instead of in a dark living room, it hits completely differently when you find out Bob aint yer uncle.

So I spent a bit of time with Richter getting everything just right. In a world with magic, you may as well put the extra OOMPH in! Richter set up a barrier device Id bought for preventing eavesdroppers, and did a sweep for magical listening apparatus. I intensely regretted not being more careful with operational security before now, but I still wasnt used to being a goldmine. Or landmine, depending.

We kept the preparations as secret as we possibly could in our close quarters. No need to alert anyone that something special was happening tonight before it happened. I wanted the goat crew to know, but I still wasnt ready to reveal the information to Copperpot or Whistlemop or the others. Anyone that would try to take advantage of my existence was out for now. I was good colleagues with Copperpot and Whistlemop and Malt, but they werent quite family, and theyd be the first to admit that theyd wring every possible bit of technology or advancement out of me.

The plan was to hold a Clan Grumble when we stopped for the night for everyone to sit, drink, and complain about the trip. A grumble was the word for a group of dwarves, and a Clan Grumble, was exactly that - a clan grouping together to grumble. And after a week stuck in a wagon together, there was lots to grumble about!

Traveling through the Manticores Gullet took the better part of a half-day, and we knew wed reached the end when a stone palisade and gate blocked our way. An alert Highwatch contingent descended upon our caravan, demanding our manifest and reason for traveling to Western Crack. The group was clean cut, well-armed and armoured, and looked ready to eat anyone that looked at them sideways. They rifled through our wagons for an hour or so before giving us the all clear.

As we passed through the gates, the great crack of Crack opened before us, vaulting to a ceiling high, high above us. I whistled, and beside me on the drivers seat, Balin gasped.

Our dear old city of Minnova was held within what was essentially a large underground bowl, and on the outskirts you could see the cave walls stretching around the horizon. The ceiling was easily visible, and covered in speckles of glowing lichens and mosses that resembled the Milky Way. It kind of felt like being in Whistler Ski Resort at night with the mountains surrounding you, except down here the mountains met above you in the sky.

Western Crack was quite different, as I couldnt see any walls from where we were. Unlike Minnova, there was no purple crystal providing light - the space was simply too big for that. Instead, the faint light of the sun could be seen filtering through a, well, crack in the ceiling far, far above us. It ran across the sky like a rent in the world, a lightning bolt that stretched and flickered and never went out. God beams pierced down into the darkness but never even came close to the ground. There was no luminescent ceiling moss here, instead enormous floating lanterns dotted the landscape, each providing a yellow glow that stretched out for a kilometer or so. The walls of the cavern were nowhere to be seen besides right behind us.

It also smelled differently here. Less musty and more sterile, like stone and old age. A large flat space sat immediately to our left, clearly meant as a rest point for caravans, but the rest of the landscape simply stretched out ahead in stoney waves and disappeared into the horizon. A few travellers could be spotted far down the road, but the sheer scale made it impossible to judge exactly how far away they were.

It felt like the old joke about the Prairies, where you could watch your dog run away for three days.

As I watched, actual birds flitted from a nest on one of the lanterns, chasing some invisible bugs. At least, I thought they were birds; they were too fast to be bats, but in Erd you never knew There was still so much to learn that it was driving me batty. Nyuck.

By all tha Bits o tha Gods. I whispered, taking in the sight.

Cave swallows. Richters voice interrupted from behind us, and I jumped. Balin was unmoved. Dey stay outta da Gullet fer some reason. Nobody knows why.

My eyebrows creased. Why not ask them? Get a [Therian] Birdboy or something to talk to them.

Richter gave me a shocked expression and slapped his forehead. All de Gods, why did nobody tink of dat! Thousands o years and millions o dwarves but nobody asked de birds! Follow current novels on novelb((in).(com)

I narrowed my eyes and he chuckled.

Nobody knows. Deys afraid of it, but dey cant say why, he shrugged.

Animals do weird things in tha dungeons too, Balin added, its just a part of tha world.

We sat in silence for a while longer, before Richter patted me on the shoulder. Were all ready fer tonight.

I closed the sack and tied it to my belt with a grimace. Ill give it a once over after the meeting, thanks Balin.

We filtered into the wagon and gathered in a circle. There was Balin, out of his golden armour for once, and twiddling his impressive handlebar moustache. His fiance Annie sat beside him, running a comb through her golden braids. The blue-bearded Aqua sat beside her, chatting merrily with the bookish-yet-muscly Richter. Johnsson was discussing beard-care with a beard-curious Kirk while Bran and Opal cuddled and whispered sweet nothings to each other.

That was everyone, not including Malt whod been relegated to keeping watch for an hour or so. Hed been happy to do so, pulling out the Crack Book of Ordinances and getting cozy in front of the campfire.

Once everyone was comfortable, Annie stood and clapped her hands. As head of the Goldstone clan, Im here to listen to the members and workers of clan Goldstone. I call to order this Clan Grumble.

What followed for the next hour or so was indeed a grumble, with a lot of grumbling to be had. There were complaints about the food, the constant sense of danger, the way the Highwatch had touched everyones personal belongings, and the lack of nightly Bran-cooked meals. As clan head, it was Annies responsibility to listen to the complaints. She didnt necessarily need to solve them, just provide a safe place for dwarven anger to vent. We didnt want someone losing themselves to the Red Rage just because we hit a particularly bad bump on the road.

After an hour or so, there was no more grumbling to be heard, and in the silence I glanced up from where Id been doodling bearded cats on the wagon wall. I flushed as I realized everyone was staring at me.

Annie smirked and asked, are you ready to give your little speech Pete?

Aye. I stood and looked around at everyone. Annie and I had talked long and hard about including Kirk in this little discussion as he was still a newcomer. Wed decided we had little choice. Considering our plans, there just wasnt any real way to keep him in the dark without excluding him. We just needed to trust our evaluation of him and hope he wasnt a secret evil cultist or something. Hey look! Foreshadowing!

Johnsson sat up eagerly. Ooooh, is it finally big reveal time? Ive been dying of curiosity.

Annie and Aqua snickered the snigger of someone that knew a secret, and Bran patted Opal reassuringly on the back as she leaned forward with interest. They were among those that knew most - but not all - of the story. Little did they know that they were in for some surprises as well.

I nodded. Yes, Johnsson. Im finally ready to reveal the truth. I spread my legs and posed in my best man-wearing-a-set-of-blue-spandex-with-bat-ears pose. IM BATMA-!

NO JOKES! Aqua interrupted, and I deflated.

Fiiine. I whinged.

Kirk was looking around confused. He held up his hand. Whats everyone talkin about?

Pete got amnesia last year after a mining accident, Annie explained. Hes been acting weird ever since.

There was a general chorus of agreement and I ground my teeth. Sorry for being weird. But theres a very good reason for that. You want the truth? You cant handle the truth! In reality, Im not actually from Crack. Im not even from ERD. My name is/was Peter Phillips, and I was originally a human on a world called Earth.

Johnsson put his hand up but was immediately shushed by everyone.

I continued, My soul was brought here by Barck, and Im in a competition with seven other souls Chosen by the Gods to be catalysts for changing the world. Barck gave me a mandate from heaven to brew beer, because in my previous life I was a Master Brewer with hundreds of different brews under my belt. Its a cutthroat contest with a wish from the Gods on the line, and I dont know where or who most of the other competitors are, but theres a good chance theyll want me dead. Oh, and at some point in Kinshasa, Barck is going to descend to Erd and compete with me for my soul.

Shocked silence met my words, and Johnsson's hand drooped limply to the floor. The smug looks Annie and Aqua had been sporting had been replaced with horror - Id never told them the bit about the wish. Then the grumbling really got started.