Chapter 1: Dwelvin
Thunder roared as lightning tears through the cloud-covered sky. He gave out a bellowing cry as he called her name. "Samantha!" He reached for her. The ground beneath him felt as if it would give way at any moment. His hands grasp hers. Bits of earth crumble and fall past her. He roars in a desperate rage as he uses every bit of strength he can muster. He pulls her towards him as more rocks give way. "Dwelven!" She lets out a long, agonizing scream as she loses her grip and plummets into the caverns below. "Samantha!" He wails in horror as he watches her fall into the darkness.
His vision filled with tears. As he stares into the void, the darkness envelopes his sight as his tears drip. He can hear someone calling his name "Dwelven..". He hears in a soft voice. "Dwelven…" he hears again. He looked around to see where it was coming from. He stands and feels a force pressing down on his head. Something was stabbing his forehead! A white light began surrounding a dark area in the hole. It expanded until it was all he could see. A long wooden stick was poking him in the face. "Dwelven! Wake up, you bum!". An old man grumbles with a disapproving frown. A carved walking stick is all he can see as it pokes him in the center of his forehead. Dwelven sat up in a start. Looking around and rubbing his eyes. His gray blanket falling off him. "It's your watch, and I don't intend to do a double shift. We have a long journey tomorrow." He groaned and lied back down. Ungalo prodded him one more time and Dwelven took the hint and got up.
Standing watch as the sun made its way to the horizon, Dwelven stood with his pike. Half asleep, and still mourning from his dream. He rubbed his head with his free hand and shook.
"That's the third night this week…" He muttered to himself in a low voice. The early morning breeze provided a cooling wind on the top of the hill. The smell of the grass waved over Dwelven on the hilltop. The smell of the spring flowers, accompanied by the smell of the forests below. He returned to watching the great forest and its magnificent trees. Their beautifully brown bark, and their outlandishly large leaves. From a hilltop that overlooked the camps, he scanned the spaces between the woods. His leather creaks as he stands. His back was screaming at him to take a seat, after standing for 7 hours. He rubbed the cool sweat off his forehead, building under his scaled helmet. He saw a stone that was big. Big enough to hold his weight definitely, and it didn't look like there were any smaller rocks to pinch himself on when he sat down.
"Don't sit down, boy, or you'll fall asleep, just like last time. If you feel the need to sit down, you might as well train." Ungalo's nagging voice came to his mind once again at the thought of sitting down on the rock. Taking a long sip from his waterskin made of deer pelt, he then secured the wooden cap back into the opening and picked up his pike with both hands.
"Well I'm not going to make a living being a guard much longer if I don't practice. Ungalo better be proud of me for this." He dropped back into a defensive stance, let out a deep breath. Breathing in again he focused his mind. Prepared to thrust his sharpened steel edge into anything that would come over the grassy hilltop. Grunting in exertion he thrusts the pike straight forward in a flash of motion. He reeled back, his heart pumping through his chest. Once again he gripped the wood of the handle firmly and pressed the attack. His arms were engulfed in flames as he stabbed, slashed, and twirled until he was out of breath. Every strike was a poorly rehearsed movement of a fight between himself and the sky in front of him. He strikes one last time, thrusting for the invisible man of his imagination's heart. He felt a flick of joy as his strike pierced through the imaginary heart and out his back. Reality came back to him when he realized he was standing on the edge and was barely holding his pike. He realized where he was on the hilltop and he noticed he was getting carried away again. It was too late for his pike when he noticed. The pike was tumbling down the hillside.
He let out a groan of disbelief and gathered the other items he had taken to the hilltop and began his journey to retrieve his weapon. While it was just a standard mercenary's pike. He still didn't want to have his pay deducted even more because he lost some equipment loaned to him.
He hurried down the hill with his pack in one hand and his waterskin in the other. Arriving at the campsite he saw that Ungalo was already wide awake, and making a meal. The air in the camp was thick with smoke. Heavy smells of fires roasting and cast iron pans frying meat and vegetables. Ungalo was one of the few who was cooking meat only. The smell of all the food was enough to make Dwelven's legs weak. The sun was beginning to rise higher into the morning. The sky was a bright orange and open. Dotted by clouds of various shapes and fluffiness.
'So… You're up. Why didn't you come get me?' Dwelven asked cautiously, rubbing the back of his head. 'Oh. You were up there? I was sure you had fallen asleep up there.' Ungalo pushed around some slices of bacon and a sausage link around the pan with a dagger 'Well since you're awake. Sit down and have something to eat. The vegetables have already been cooked.' I steamed them and I didn't want the fat to soak into the vegetables. It makes them soggy, and I for one will not eat a soggy carrot.' Dwelven bit his lip to avoid laughing at the way Ungalo had phrased it. 'Yes, that sounds delightful. Thank you very much, Ungalo.' Dwelven said. He then takes a cut log from the ground sets it upright and sits. He reaches to take a handful of vegetables but the hot steel of Ungalo's dagger tapping Dwelven's forearm sends his hand back in a cry of pain. 'Ungalo! What the hell is your problem?' he holds his forearm wiping off the cooking grease with his shirt. 'Where is your pike?' Ungalo's voice was cold as ice. Dwelven's eyes went wide. 'I was training with it. I must have left it at the spot I was watching over the camp with.'
'Well that's a bit odd isn't it? Tell me, Dwelven. What is this then?' Ungalo then reached to the ground and pulled a bloody pike from behind his log and tossed it to Dwelven. The blood oozed and pooled beneath Dwelven's weapon. It stunk of death, and Dwelven hoped his error had not caused one.
His blood went cold and his back stiffened. 'I see it must've rolled down the hill!' Dwelven let out a fake laugh.
'You threw it off the hilltop. Didn't you, Dwelven?'
'I guess you could say I did throw it… but I was training and I didn't realize how close I got to the edge of the hill.' Dwelven looked down, ashamed of himself. 'Well at least you weren't sleeping, and if you hadn't done that then we wouldn't be eating this meat.' Ungalo let out a joyful laugh while tapping the pan. 'Your pike landed right on a Muba that was about to eat a man whole! You saved his life!'
'I saved… someone's life by making a mistake?' Dwelven scratched his head. Not understanding how something was even possible.
'That's exactly right, my boy. Now eat the food. You're allowed to this time. I won't stop you. Make sure to eat your fill.' Ungalo said smiling.
Dwelven smiled to himself and began to put a plate of food together. Thinking to himself that he could eat a whole Muba by himself at this point he was so hungry.