“Sounds familiar.” I might have read about him in one of my master's books, but I couldn't remember anything now.
“You know, lad, if it weren’t for Eostar, Shala would have lost the war.” Jastillian gazed lovingly at the statue. “He inspired me to become what I am today.”
“How so?”
“Eostar wasn't the best or strongest warrior, but he inspired all of us to become more. If it weren’t for Eostar, we would have helped Renak win the war.”
I turned my gaze away from the statue, cocking my head and raising my eyebrow.
“Don’t look so surprised, lad. Before Eostar, we dwarves only cared about fighting and honor. We cared about who was the strongest, and would follow them because it was the honorable thing to do. We learned later that survival of the fittest doesn’t necessarily mean those who are physically strong, and that honor can come in many forms.
“We didn’t technically enter the war for a long time, but we didn't have a problem with Renak's followers crossing our borders to get at our enemies. When we finally entered the war, we sided with Renak. It was a long struggle for Eostar, but he helped us see there’s more to life than fighting and the battlefield.
“Strength and honor can be in ideals—in doing what’s right despite the odds or what others think. At Eostar’s urging, we joined Shala’s army at a pivotal point in the war. That’s how the Erlam of today was born. Afterwards, we branched off into other occupations like healing, history, even archery. Even so, we dwarves are still mighty warriors. It's just that it’s no longer all we are.”
I stared at Jastillian, realizing for the first time that he was much more than a simple historian. And I was going to find out what.
We left the marketplace and walked through residential neighborhoods. Most of the buildings were constructed out of slate or sandstone, material easily taken from the mountains. While some of the homes were bigger and had more stories, all seemed to be of the same uniform, blocky shape. The dwarves didn’t seem to believe in creativity in design. However, the walls were strong and smooth, with no cracks in the foundations or crumbling mortar.
As we made our way through town, Jastillian was greeted by everyone that walked by. There wasn’t a single dwarf who didn’t acknowledge him, ranging from the littlest dwarf child to the most scarred, battle-tested one. He smiled and said his hellos. From the greetings of the people and the reaction of the guards, I began to suspect that Jastillian must be someone of importance. Even Premier didn’t want to kill him. He wanted to kill me.
I had worried that coming here would be a waste of time. With Jastillian by my side, it might no longer be. Whoever he was, Jastillian had some influence.
I couldn’t help but notice that every dwarf had a weapon. The children had mock wooden axes. They ran around, chasing and fighting each other. They fought with intensity, but never cried out, even when they got hit. Most of them smiled and roared with laughter instead.
The adults favored axes of various sizes, slung across their backs, and large enough so that they extended above their heads. How could they carry such a thing and use it effectively? It was no wonder that their arm muscles, and every other muscle, were bigger than my neck. Even the vendors were armed. The elderly dwarves tended to favor short swords, probably because they were lighter than the axes.
As we approached the foot of the mountain, a huge stone wall loomed over us, over twenty feet high. It curved like a horseshoe around the entrance to the underground portion of the city. In front of the wall, for a long bowshot in every direction, was an open space. Just like on the plateau, all the trees and brush had been removed, and there were no buildings. Nothing to provide cover for an enemy. It was a kill zone.
The only entrance was a thick steel gate, flanked by two towers that extended ten feet higher than the wall. Guards paced the top of the wall; they stopped as we approached and eyed us suspiciously, as did the ones on the ground. Just as we got to the gate, we were met by a female dwarf wearing an officer’s insignia.
“Jastillian, glad to see you’re back,” she said, and allowed herself a smile.
Jastillian smiled back. “Me too, Lurlane.”
She frowned at me. “Outsiders aren’t permitted, though.” The guard tensed. “He may wander around the town, but he can’t go inside.”
“We’re going to see the council. It’s business.”
Lurlane eyed me and Jastillian for several moments. “I’m duty bound.”
The guards behind her fingered their weapons, and the ones on the towers raised their crossbows.
My fire slipped again. I was losing control. I balled my fists, trying to hide it, but it trickled along my fingers. I folded my hands into my sleeves, hoping no one saw it, and that I could get control of it before it got worse.