Refugees

The Forge of Freehand glowed with searing white light. Never had Fernmug seen so much heat. The quest for the dragon fire, that heated the forge to its present state, had nearly killed him. He would forever carry the scars of holding the Orb of Freehand before the Ancient Red Dragon, Infernagtus. The priests had healed the physical burns; but, to stand before the dragon and feel him breathe seven times, to feel the Orb grow heavier and hotter with each breath, the memory would always be with him. He was a dwarf though and it was not the memory of pain that he would remember, it was the quest, the quest of adulthood that made him a dwarf. No longer was he a child dwarf but a full member of the clan and the greater community of his race.

Fernmug Freehand turned back to the forge. This forge had been in his family as long as the Orb had. The Forge was given at the same time as the Orb. They were a matching set. It was said that only the dwarven god Bandar the Warsmith could contain the fire of the Dragon. The Orb and the Forge were evidence of this. It was Bandar that had given them to the patriarch of his clan, Jendal Freehand, almost three millennia before. They were given for the dedication of the clan to their calling, warsmithing and skill in battle. The Freehand’s were feared and respected for their ability and fierceness in battle and their weapons and armor were the most sought after in all the dwarven kingdoms.

The forge had been used by every Freehand, male and female, to craft the weapons and armor that made them famous; but the Orb had only been used twice, once by Jendal to craft the Mithratine armor that he had worn to battle. Jendal had been huge by dwarven standards, five and a half feet tall and thirty-seven inches shoulder to shoulder. As were all the dwarves, he had been built of muscle and sinew. No dwarf, Freehand or otherwise, had been able to wear the great armor since. It showed no sign of wear or age as it stood in the temple of Bandar. It could not be remade without the Forge and the Orb and no dwarf had completed the quest to fill the Orb and lived. Until now!

Fernmug looked again into the forge. He new what was next, the forging. He had prayed for a month before he was given the quest. Bandar had not spoken to him per say; but, he had known what was to come. It had appeared as knowledge in his mind. He would go on the quest, he would build the next great Freehand artifact and he would wear the armor of Jendal. The armor did not have to be remade; Fernmug was the largest dwarf to grow to adulthood since Jendal. He had known the armor would fit just as he had known of the quest of the Orb. He also knew that he had to build an axe. It all made sense to him now. The knowledge was there, the smelting of the mithril and adamantine to make the mithratine alloy, the forging and hammering of the weapon itself and the path that he knew must follow.


to be continued....