Dan Willis - The Survivors

“Sit down, then, stranger,” Chisul said. “And I’ll tell you the most fanciful tale you ever heard. It all started one day when my father was down in the deep caves looking for good polishing stones-”

“Give it a rest, Chisul,” Silas said in a weary, admonishing tone.

“Aw, Dad,” Chisul said with mock sincerity. “If there’s someone in the city who hasn’t heard your tale of magic and mystery, then I am duty-bound to tell them.”

At that, Silas seemed to resign himself, and Chisul launched into the story.

“You see, when my dad was down in the deep tunnels looking for polishing stones, he thinks he hears this voice telling him to go lower. So he does, going down and down, deeper than he’s ever been. And when he gets to the very bottom, the voice tells him that he’s been called to perform a great work. And what do you suppose that is?”

Chisul winked conspiratorially at Bradok then swept his arm upward, indicating the ship. “Why to build this whopper of a vessel, of course! He comes back up from the deep tunnels covered in rubble and dirt, carrying a flat stone with the design of this boat carved on it. Says that it just appeared in the wall, right in front of him.”

“So … the voice told your dad to perform a great work and the design showed him to build this boat,” Bradok said, in his best unamused voice. He decided that he rather disliked Silas’s son.

“The voice told him he had to build this boat,” Chisul said cheerfully, “or everyone he cared about would die.”

Bradok suddenly remembered another dwarf who had encountered a godly voice: Argus Deephammer. Then there was the dwarf with the red-painted sign warning of repentance and doom. And the strange red-bearded one who called himself Erus who had given him the mysterious engraved device, warning him to choose sides.

He scratched his head, thinking. So many dwarves seemed to be saying the same thing, that some great disaster was coming and the people of Ironroot had to choose the path of salvation.

“So why are you here?” Chisul asked, breaking into Bradok’s thoughts. “Reorx send you here too?”

“What are you talking about?” Bradok demanded.

Chisul barked a short, derisive laugh. “Ever since Dad started building this thing, they’ve been coming around. Religious nuts who claim they’ve heard voices, like Dad, or seen visions, or been sent here by mysterious strangers that always turn out to be Reorx in disguise.”

Bradok felt the hairs on his neck stand up. He hadn’t given much thought to Erus’s resemblance to Reorx, but since Chisul brought it up, Erus did uncannily evoke the god of the dwarves.

“So what happens when you finish it, uh, her … the boat? What are you supposed to do then?” Bradok asked, turning to Silas.

Silas smiled and shrugged sheepishly. “Reorx didn’t say.” He put his hand on one of the naked ribs and stroked it reverently. “My job is to finish her. What happens after that is out of my hands.”

Bradok opened his mouth to ask another question, but a sudden disturbance erupted outside. He could hear raised voices and the sounds of a scuffle. With unexpected suddenness, the front door to the shop broke inward, smashed with some heavy object. A moment later five armed members of the city guard were standing in Silas’s workshop.

“What is the meaning of this?” Bradok demanded.

The leader of the guards recognized him after a moment, a surprised look passing over his countenance.

“I’m sorry, Councilman, but I have my orders.” He turned to Silas. “Silas Weatherstone, I’m directed by the city council to place you under arrest. Please come with me.”

Bradok’s mind raced. How could Mayor Arbuckle have heard about Silas so quickly?

“Sapphire,” he whispered.

She must have gone to Arbuckle when Bradok didn’t return home and warned him that her son might expose his plans. Arbuckle hadn’t taken any chances; he must have had Bradok followed and ordered the arrest of Silas.

“Of course I will come with you, Guardsman,” Silas said, putting a restraining hand on Chisul. He took off his apron and handed it to his son then turned to the lone human. “If anyone comes to help with the boat while I’m gone, Perin, please let them in and continue with the work,” he said.

Perin nodded forlornly but said nothing.

Silas bade Chisul good-bye. The guardsmen had formed up around Silas, as if they expected him to attempt to make a run for it. But Silas walked easily behind the guard captain, with his head held high, trying neither to outpace him nor fall behind.

Bradok followed to the door and watched as the soldiers marched out of sight. He wanted to do something to help, but if Arbuckle were behind Silas’s arrest, there wasn’t much he could do at the moment. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the etched metal of Erus’s strange device. Silas hadn’t been any help in determining what it was. On impulse, Bradok pulled it out of his pocket. The tiny words that appeared from the intricate etching were still plainly visible in the soft glow given off by the purple gem.

A person’s destination depends more on his choices than his direction .

Bradok looked off, up the passage where the soldiers had taken Silas. The whole council might be against him, but he resolved to follow after Silas and speak on the cooper’s behalf; that, at least, was a choice he could make.

He slipped the device back into his pocket and started off through the milling crowd. As he made his way along the tunnel that led back to the main cavern, Bradok tried to come up with a plan, but he had no idea what he would say to the council. Arbuckle’s course seemed set, and Bradok doubted he had any power to change it. Still, maybe he could bribe Arbuckle or some of the councilors to obtain Silas’s freedom. Fortunately he had plenty of money and other goods to bribe the council with.

When Bradok emerged from the side tunnel into Ironroot proper, he could tell something was sorely amiss. An eerie stillness hung over the cavern. Nobody was strolling among the grass and flowers of the central square, and the sidewalks were conspicuously empty. At each street corner, however, a city guardsman stood with hammer and shield at the ready.

“Halt,” the nearest one called, catching sight of Bradok.

“What’s this all about?” Bradok demanded as the guard approached him.

“The council has enacted a curfew,” the guard said. “No one is permitted on the streets in the upper city after ten.”

“I’m Bradok Axeblade and I’m a member of the city council,” Bradok countered. “I wasn’t informed of this. When did the council meet to decide this new curfew?”

“It is my understanding that they are meeting now, Councilman,” the guard said. “They sent word to all they could find. I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”

Bradok wasn’t so sure. “Thank you,” he said as the guard turned to resume his post.

Bradok turned toward the upper end of the cavern. The guards seemed to be posted at the entrances to the side tunnels, so he wasn’t challenged again, though several of the guards looked at him uncertainly as he passed by.

The main cavern of Ironroot followed a natural curve, making it impossible for Bradok to see city hall until he reached the central square. Before he reached the square, he heard a low, rumbling noise. When he came around the facade of the dry goods store, he immediately knew why-city hall had been besieged.

The building itself stood at the top of a raised platform of stone with a brick courtyard in front. All around the base of the stairs gathered a mob of some twenty or thirty dwarves. Among the crowd, Bradok occasionally caught the glimpse of a weapon. At that sight, Bradok understood the curfew; it was intended to keep the mob from growing and the protest from spreading.