[Listen]
[Sound of an ax chopping wood. Quirky music fades in…]
Christopher Gronlund:
I want to make one thing perfectly clear: this show is not about lumberjacks…
My name is Christopher Gronlund, and this is where I share my stories. Sometimes the stories contain truths, but most of the time, they’re made up. Sometimes the stories are funny—other times they’re serious. But you have my word about one thing: I will never—EVER—share a story about lumberjacks.
This time, it’s the first science fiction story I’ve ever written—a tale about DWARVES IN SPACE!!!
Find out what happens when the Forgefire brothers, while mining in an asteroid belt called The Delve, discover something that changes the lives of an entire solar system.
But first, the usual content advisory…
“Rockbiters” deals with loss of life, brief mention of enslavement, and war. Some may find the battle scenes loud and stressful, but there is no gore or suffering. Think of it like Star Wars-level action and you’re fine. Also: I extend my no-swearing streak to a fourth story in a row…unless you consider a made-up, one-syllable word swearing.
Before we get going, I want to talk about this episode’s music. The usual theme music notwithstanding, all music is courtesy of Martin Goldmann.
Martin is a German video producer with an evening synthesizer habit. He has a handful of YouTube channels, one of which is full of his ambient soundscapes. It’s fair to say his music has gotten me through many a workday and writing session.
When he heard I was working on a story about dwarves in space, he wrote a piece of music aptly titled, “Dwarves in Space.” Like me, through a love of role-playing games and stories, Martin is also a fan of dwarves. Then, when he heard the title of the latest Not About Lumberjacks story, he wrote another piece called, “This Rockbiter Wants Some Marshmallow.”
I asked if I could use either piece, and Martin said I was free to use anything he’s done. When I asked how I could compensate him—like every contributor I’ve worked with on Not About Lumberjacks—Martin refused payment. So…a donation was made in honor of Martin’s talents and generosity to Musicians Without Borders.
I’ll be sure to link to the organization in the show notes, in case you’re so inclined to donate—as well as sharing Martin’s channels and website.
All right, let’s get to work!
* * *
Rockbiters
The Book of Roon – Part 1 – Malinor
From The Great Spark came the flame that started it all, The Time Before Everything giving way to the Age of the Gods. On Histrides, the three races—Dwarves, Humans, and the Sylvanon—took their first steps. In time, each claimed their lands: the Sylvanon left for the forests, the humans built their cities, and the dwarves found their way beneath it all. When the gods no longer listened, we turned to our legends for guidance and inspiration; of whom, the greatest is Malinor the Hammer.
Long before humans reached for distant systems, Malinor discovered the stones that would fuel their ships and dreams. No longer were we bound to Histrides—the Sylvanon settled on Moroth, while Malinor founded our home planet of Galbolduhr, where I, Roon—The Keeper of Tales—am writing this. The humans stayed on Histrides.
Malinor ventured into The Delve, the great rock field between Vondra and Toberon the Stone Crusher. There, he found more Ozymandite in one small asteroid than all of Histrides. An alliance between the three races of the system was formed, and Vondra became a processing outpost under dwarven guidance.
When the humans turned their attention to the stars, Malinor turned his attention to a new task: finding a stone that would restore the dying fires of The Great Forge at the center of our system.
* * *
Thorvlin Forgefire was deep down in Asteroid 2849 when he found it. He called his brother, Bautigan, over.
“By Malinor’s Hammer, is that…?”
“I believe so,” Thorvlin said.
“What is it doing here?”
“I’m not sure. Help me cut it free…”
* * *
Two days later, on the processing outpost of Vondra, Thorvlin summoned The Council of Nine. Three elected members from each race in the Alliance of Histrides appeared on the massive screen before him.
“Ah, if it isn’t the Forgefires!” an old dwarf said.
Thorvlin and Bautigan bowed. “Greetings to you and yours, Brondor Ironbeard. And the rest of the Council. Thank you for hearing us today.”
A human woman said, “Sur Ironbeard said you would not ask for our time unless it were vital.”
“Aye, it is.” Thorvlin gestured to something the size of a small shuttlecraft covered beneath a gray drop cloth.
“What do you have hidden there, Master Dwarf?” a lithe Sylvanon said while leaning forward in his seat. “Another large piece of Ozymandite?”
“No, something even greater.”
Thorvlin and his brother pulled back the cloth, revealing a massive stone on a wheeled pallet. They struggled to turn the chunk of Asteroid 2849 around to face the screen. The three dwarves on the council froze in awe.
Before them, fossilized in the stone, was the head of a massive drake. While its snout had long gone cold, its teeth were every bit as menacing as when it was alive. The beast’s horns spread out wide at the back of its head. Its scales looked like sculpture.
“Were you a human, I might think this is a joke,” the Sylvanon said. “But I know you would not summon the council unless you believed it important. Can you explain to us what it is we’re looking at?”
Thorvlin said, “Indeed, I can, Sur Greenvaro. We believe this to be the head of the Crowned Drake, Khurakmore.”
“I am sorry, I don’t understand the significance.”
“It is said that Malinor the Hammer slew the Crowned Drake on Malmora. We have never known where on Malmora this occurred, but we do know, from ancient writings, that Malmora was struck by a small rogue planet millennia past. I believe this to be a piece of Malmora placed into The Delve’s orbit by the gravity of Toberon the Stonecrusher.”
Seldona Greenvaro said, “Please forgive me, Master Dwarf. I still do not understand.”
Thorvlin turned to the fossilized drake. “It is written that Malinor and Khurakmore each met their ends in that battle. It is also written that in that battle, Malinor’s hammer was lost. We have known the hammer to be on Malmora for ages, but we have never known exactly where. If we can determine where on Malmora this is from, we might possibly retrieve Malinor’s Hammer.”
“You want us to sacrifice a mission to Malmora to retrieve an artifact?” Seldona Greenvaro said. “I understand its importance to you and your folk—we all have legends and treasures we hold dear—but we will not risk such a mission for a hammer.”
Thorvlin turned back to face the council. “What if I told you that hammer was forged with something greater than Ozymandite—something so powerful that it will revive the Great Forge before its fires die?”
“You mean the sun,” the Sylvanon said.
“Sun…Great Forge. We all have our ways of describing it. Ours is more…poetic; which is rather surprising, considering the Sylvanon reputation for airy songs and stories.”
Seldona Greenvaro smiled at the playful jab. A human man on screen said, “Assuming what you say is true. We have our plan. Sol will die, and it will die soon, which is all the more reason to not pursue such folly. As much as it may pain us all to leave, that is what we will do.”
Thorvlin said, “Sur Morro, I mean no offense with what I am about to say, but do you honestly believe we will all board ships and leave? Do you not understand that only the wealthiest among us will survive, while the rest of our people perish? Even if we could evacuate everyone, is this not worth the undertaking to find out if this is true? I understand your kind only live to 100 or so. We live several times that. And the Sylvanon live much longer than your kind and mine combined. If not for you, then for your descendants—so they may know the beauty of Histrides and not some distant system separated from their bones.”
“Those are fair points,” the man said. “What do you need from the Council, Sur Forgefire?”
“This fossil must be tested, to determine my heart is not leading my brain. If this is the head of the Crowned Drake Khurakmore, then we can determine where on Malmora Malinor’s Hammer rests. And once we know, we must go to there to retrieve it. For all our tomorrows.
* * *
Twenty days until arrival at Irrades
Thorvlin and Bautigan sat in the mess hall with mission leaders Kalzoum Axebiter, Steen Brazol, and Andaleein Alzomar.
Steen looked at the emptiness of space through a port-hole window and said, “Surs, you like it out here?”
“On the ship?” Bautigan said. “Or do you mean in The Delve?”
“The Delve.”
“We like it,” Thorvlin said. “Galbolduhr is our home, but there’s something peaceful out here in these rock fields. Most of the time, we’re beneath the surface mining. The tunnels we carve may not be as grand as in the mountains of our youth, but it’s safe and to our liking.”
“I’d expect no other answer from a Rockbiter.”
“What?” Thorvlin said.
“Rockbiters,” Steen said. “That’s what we call you.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ve been called much worse.”
Andaleein smiled and said, “Do you have any names for us?”
“You’re a Sylvanon,” Bautigan said. “And Sur Brazol is a human.”
“That is not what I am asking. Do you have any endearing names for us?”
Thorvlin looked at his brother before saying, “I’m not sure about endearing, but we sometimes call you Leaf Ears. Because you like trees so much…and—ahem—those ears you all have.”
“And what do you call Master Brazol’s people?”
“Bunglers.”
“And why is that?”
“Because they bungle through everything, but somehow, it always works out.”
Andaleein laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Thorvlin said.
“That is not unlike my kind calling your kind Bolders. You are a bold people, but also: every bit as stubborn as stones.”
Fifteen days until arrival at Irrades
At breakfast, Andaleein Alzomar watched Thorvlin as he picked at his food.
“What?”
“You seem a bit on edge, Master Thorvlin.”
“I am not fond of traveling, at least like this.”
“There is no reason to worry.”
“Oh, I know that. It’s just…we like to be doing more than sitting and waiting. Take us from our work for too long, and we—as you say—get edgy.
“I can stomach the two days of travel from Vondra into The Delve. The four days from Vondra to home seems long, now. A week in this can is more than plenty. I don’t need a computer reminding me we still have two weeks to go.”
“It is a spacious ship.”
“Aye, it is. I suppose I prefer being in mountains or underground. I’d even take Toberon’s orbit being a bit closer as we pass through its space. Just to feel something other than nothing.”
“Have you ever felt Toberon’s pull?”
“I’ve been close enough to a convergence on the far side of The Delve to know I don’t want to be any closer than that. But the Stonecrusher brings with it a bounty. We’d not be in this can of a ship were it not for all Toberon places between it and Vondra.”
Ten days until arrival at Irrades
Thorvlin and Bautigan sat in the Captain’s Lounge with Kalzoum Axebiter, playing a game to pass the time. Steen and Andaleein broke free from their tables and sat with the dwarves.
“What is this?” Andaleein said.
“It’s called Hledatoml,” Thorvlin said.
“And how is it played?”
“The rules are simple enough. Kalzoum’s company starts in the middle of the board. Bautigan’s company is broken up to defend the six corners.
“Bautigan’s goal is to capture Kalzoum’s king by surrounding the piece on three sides. Kalzoum’s goal is to get the king to one of the corners of the board to win. Pieces move in straight lines. You take your opponent’s pieces by flanking them on three sides, or just one piece against the king’s starting space in the middle or a corner.”
Andaleein spent a few moments looking at the board and its pieces before saying, “You are correct. It is a simple enough game in concept, but I can appreciate its complexities. When your brother and Master Axebiter are finished, would you like to play?”
Thorvlin smiled. “Oh course!”
Bautigan and Kalzoum played until Kalzoum was left with only his king and one other piece. Bautigan had the advantage with five pieces of his own. That advantage served as Bautigan’s downfall. As he positioned his pieces to take Kalzoum’s king in his next move, he didn’t realize one of his pieces was against the king’s starting point.
Kalzoum flanked one of Bautigan’s pieces in the center, and in his next move, his king took a corner for the win.
“Ah, good match!” Bautigan said. “I thought I had ya!”
Kalzoum said, “So did I!” He slid the board toward Andaleein and Thorvlin.
Andaleein said, “Which side would you like?”
“It’s even odds, though some say the King’s side has the advantage. So, if you want, you can take the middle.”
As the game progressed, Thorvlin said, “Are you sure you’ve never played?”
And when Andaleein took a corner for the win, Thorvlin threw up his hands and said, “Ah, beginner’s luck!”
Andaleein smiled and said, “I would be happy to play again…”
“No, that’s all right…”
Five days until arrival at Irrades
“The rules of Ruuma are simple enough,” Steen said. “Using only your feet, your team tries kicking the ball into the goal.”
Steen and his human partner gestured to the court, a large, rectangular room with a round port at the far wall. Andaleein and another Sylvanon listened intently, while Thorvlin and Bautigan surveyed the space.
“The first team to 13 goals wins. You cannot stand in front of the goal, but if you are behind the goal line when an opponent kicks, you can cross and defend against them. Any questions?”
“Aye, can you play the ball off the ceiling?” Thorvlin said.
“You can play the ball off anything, Master Forgefire. Even your opponents. To that end, you can stand your ground and push against each other from a stopped position, but you cannot charge into others.”
“Ah, where’s the fun in that?” Bautigan said.
Steen placed the ball in the middle of the court, and each team retreated to a quarter circle marker in three of the room’s four corners.
“Three…two…one…GO!” Steen yelled.
At first, their familiarity of the game gave the humans a quick three goals. But Sylvanon speed quickly took over. With only one goal, it looked like Thorvlin and Bautigan would be better off letting their opponents play among themselves, but once they figured out trajectories and how to use their stout, lower centers of gravity to their advantage, they came from behind to win: their thirteen points to the humans’ ten and the Sylvanon’s nine.
As Steen struggled to catch his breath, he dabbed himself off with a towel and said, “That was quite a comeback for Team Forgefire. Tell me, what did you discover to change things to your favor?”
Thorvlin said, “Well, aside from being the stubborn Bolders Sur Alzomar mentioned a couple weeks ago, everything a dwarf knows can be found in family and the shapes of things. The structures that hold stones and gems together—what makes up our bodies. We know where to put pressure on rocks; where those rocks will fall and, possibly, even roll. We know how to make things do what we need, so it should be no surprise we can figure out how to get a ball into a hole.”
Six hours until arrival at Irrades
The cargo bay bustled with activity as crews prepared to disembark. Steen Brazol watched as the dwarves secured their axes and hammers.
“I’ll never understand the dwarven insistence to do battle with such outdated weapons.”
“They’re a bit more than they seem,” Thorvlin said.
“True. But one must still get close to do any damage.” Steen pointed to the Sylvanon crew’s preparations. “Their bows allow them to at least attack from a distance.”
“We can attack from a distance, too,” Bautigan said.
“I hardly consider hurling stones with primitive devices a proper attack.”
“Perhaps not,” Thorvlin said. “But it’s a good defense. And it explains why dwarves go to war far less than humans. You fight from a distance, making combat an easier option than talking. Because we get in much closer, it’s in our best interests to negotiate rather than coming to blows. Something worth considering, no?”
Steen laughed and said, “Indeed, it is. It has been my pleasure getting to know you all better in recent weeks.”
“Ours as well!”
* * *
The Book of Roon – Part 2 – Malinor
With Malinor’s discovery of Ozymandite, Dwarves, humans, and Sylvanon were able to travel the system. Humans dreamed of longer voyages. Malinor and The Crew of Twenty sought additional stone fields to mine and found the greatest of all between Malmora and Thara. The Far Stones yielded more Ozymandite and other resources than even The Delve. An outpost was established on Malmora, and more of our kind traveled far from Galbolduhr to work. There, Malinor discovered Forge Fire, a metal with the power to reignite the source of life should it ever fade.
But even the greatest of his supporters thought Malinor a fool when he set out to shape the rare deposit at his anvil. His undertaking became an obsession. Gone was his time in the stone fields; no longer did he seek camaraderie from his brothers and sisters. When even Malinor’s strongest allies were poised to intervene, he emerged from his shop with the hammer held high…
* * *
“It never gets old,” Steen said as the HSC Criterion descended toward Irrades. The moon looked like an orange pupil against the azure eye of Malmora below. “I wonder what other marvels wait beyond all we know.”
“Regardless of our success, here,” Thorvlin said, “I’m sure you will know in your lifetime. As for me, I have no intention to leave this system.”
“Don’t you want to know what’s further out there? We know there are other systems like ours. New species to meet.”
“You think so much about what’s out there that I wonder if you fully see and appreciate what you have right here. What it is to truly know the ground on which you stand —what it is to know every stone of your homeland.”
“Well, should I ever travel far, I will be sure to send a communication letting you know what rocks I see in faraway places.”
* * *
Thorvlin and Bautigan sat with Kalzoum Axebiter and the rest of their assigned squad in the briefing room. He admired the assembled company, feeling a mix of pride and concern for the group. If something went wrong, how would he handle knowing his plan resulted in a loss of life? Was staking so much on an ancient legend a foolish pursuit? What would happen if Malinor’s Hammer were just…a hammer—a hefty piece of metal on the end of a handle created to shape its more stubborn ores? His concerns dissipated when the briefing started.
The commander of the mission brought up a map on the screen behind him.
“Our intelligence and readings put our objective here.” The human pointed to a desolate, scarred expanse of land in an otherwise mountainous region of Malmora. When this mission was proposed, my initial thought was, ‘If the Crowned Drake’s remains were scattered in a collision with a planetoid or small planet, why would this hammer still be there?’ But we are getting a reading that something is down there.
“Obviously, our main concern is the Vard. While there are no Vardian cities in the region, there are small towns and outposts. The plan is to send you down in shuttles with breakaway hulls so it appears to be nothing more than a large meteor breaking up on entry. We are the intruders, here, and you must remember that if something goes wrong down there, we cannot attack the Vard. May those who came before be with you.”
* * *
Thorvlin’s favorite part of traveling into The Delve were the smooth landings. He was not as fond of the turbulence that came with the final stages of planetary travel, even in larger ships. Dropping into the atmosphere of Malmora in a shuttle was like rolling down the side of a rocky mountain in a barrel. Every bump shook him to his bones; he gripped the sides of his seat while counting to himself in an effort to steady his nerves. Just when he wondered if the break-away hull of the shuttle was about to give way to the only thing separating him from space, his world became quiet and smooth. A little tug of gravity here and there as they did a series of turns to slow the craft, but the worst part was over.
* * *
The Book of Roon – Part 3 – Khurakmore
With the Far Stones yielding a steady bounty, Malinor turned his attention to the surface of Malmora, believing more Forge Fire to be found on its surface. When he found none there, he tunneled into mountains.
It is not known how long the Great Crowned Drake, Khurakmore, slumbered beneath Monte Skalbruder—what is known is that, in their battle, Khurakmore and Malinor met their ends. Those present said the mountain shook with each blast from the Crowned Drake. Each hammer blow by Malinor resonated in the stones.
There is a carving in The Grand Hall of Erbadeor depicting Malinor’s Leap at Khurakmore’s crown. It is said the ground opened where Malinor fell, his final act looking up at the slain drake as the mountain swallowed him whole.
* * *
Thorvlin watched Steen Brazol step out from his shuttle and take a deep breath. Fresh air filled the dwarven squad’s shuttle when the seal on the door was broken. Thorvlin inhaled, savoring its taste and feel; it wasn’t the fresh air of Histrides or Galbolduhr, but between his time in The Delve and on Vonda, it was the first naturally breathable air he’d drawn in over a year.
“I’ll need a trip home after this,” he said to Bautigan.
“Aye,” Bautigan said. “It’s easy to forget how nice this is.”
The moment was disrupted by the human commander shouting, “All right, we need to move!” In and out before the Vard realize we’re here.”
The squads moved in double time toward a rip in the ground where once, a great mountain stood. Steam billowed from the crack and blew across the surface. A human closed the visor on his helmet and took a reading of the vapor with a small hand-held device. He gestured to seal up.
“It was good while it lasted,” Bautigan said.
Once underground, Kalzoum Axebiter brought Thorvlin’s squad to the front. They wound their way through an old lava tube full of noxious smoke, until it opened to a chasm dropping far below.
Thorvlin looked up, imagining Malinor falling to his end in the place he now stood.
“What now?” Steen said. “Climb down?”
Kalzoum set a small box on the ground and pushed a button on top. A single ping resonated. The dwarven leader looked at a small screen on his wrist.
“There’s another tunnel over there. Looks like it descends to the bottom without too much climbing.”
The company made their way down, following the lead of the sure-footed dwarves. Eventually, the passageway gave way to a wall of rubble.
“Dakk!”
“Hold on, hold on,” Thorvlin said to the commander. “Get back, the lot of ya.”
As the company retreated, Thorvlin and Bautigan opened a pack and got to work. They surveyed the stones, placing charges in just the right spots. The humans and Sylvanon retreated further as they watched the giddy brothers rushing back their way.
THOOM!!!
The settling dust gave view to a large cavern.
“If there are any Vardians about, they know we’re here,” Steen said.
Kalzoum raised his axe. “And we’ll be ready for them.”
Stones tumbled down from above as the company made their way toward the opening. The human commander held up his arm, signaling for the group to halt.
“Just some stone left over from the blast,” Bautigan said. “No worries.”
More stones fell as they neared the cavern.
“What about that?” Steen said.
Thorvlin reached down and felt the ground.
“No, that’s something different.”
He pushed his way past the rest of the company.
Andaleein Alzomar looked concerned. “Vardians?”
Thorvlin examined the edges of the opening.
“Don’t know.”
Going back to the ground with his hand wasn’t needed. Dust fell from the ceiling, and the ground shook. Thorvlin leaped to the side and shouted, “Drake!”
* * *
A gout of flame filled the tunnel, singeing those quick enough to make it to the sides. Those who didn’t perished in the blast. When the flames subsided, the dwarves were the first to rush in.
It became apparent to those who didn’t know him well how Kalzoum Axebiter got his name. He and the Forgefires worked at the drake’s legs in an effort to topple the beast.
Humans and Sylvanon fired on the creature from the mouth of the tunnel, retreating to safety only when the drake swelled and released another blast.
The massive beast turned its attention to the dwarves below, stomping and swinging its tail in desperation. Kalzoum and two others were caught in a swipe of its front leg—Thorvlin and Bautigan watched them sail across the room and smack into a wall.
“Kalzoum!”
With that, Thorvlin climbed up the drake’s rear leg and held tightly to its back. The company focused its fire on the beast’s lower body as the confident dwarf made his way to its shoulders. Halfway up its neck, the drake released another blast. Thorvlin lost his axe as the monstrosity lurched toward the tunnel entrance. Below, Bautigan continued working on one of its legs.
Thorvlin shouted, “Brother, my axe!”
The drake reared back on its hind legs as Thorvlin held firmly to the back of its head. It came down with all its might just as Bautigan grabbed his brother’s axe and hurled it skyward.
Thorvlin met the weapon as it made its way up and the drake continued its attempt to crush Bautigan. At the last moment, Thorvlin’s brother rolled out of the way. The momentum of the beast coming down made it easier for Thorvlin to steady his weapon and sink the blade into the drake’s head. It let loose with one final blast and fell silent.
Bautigan and Thorvlin were the first to reach their fallen squad leader. Kalzoum leaned against the wall with two others: all shaken, but not broken.
“Do you need aid?” Thorvlin said.
Kalzoum slowly stretched his back, working through a tinge of pain. “I can only speak for myself, but I will be fine.” The other dwarves grit their teeth and nodded in agreement.
As Thorvlin turned away to check on others, Steen approached and said, “It seems there is something to your belief that getting in close to a battle matters.”
“Ah, I can’t say it was all us,” he said. “Maybe you make a point about firing from afar.”
Thorvlin and Bautigan scoured the cavern for any sign of Malinor’s Hammer. The remains of creatures overcome by fumes at the upper drop to the cavern were scattered about the floor; some showing signs that the drake had its own steady supply of food from above, others seeming tossed about for amusement. They dug through piles of debris while the rest of the company tended to the wounded.
* * *
On the far side of the cavern, beneath ages of dust and refuse, Thorvlin found more than he was looking for. The remains of Malinor were wrapped in an old space suit, a fragment of the mighty legend all dwarves held in their hearts. It was evident, however—that in his prime—Malinor was everything imagined. Few dwarves the Forgefire brothers ever met could fill such a bulky suit. Whether shoved aside by a descendant of Khurakmore or the ages didn’t matter—Thorvlin trembled as he gazed upon the legendary hero while reaching down and taking his hammer by its handle.
It was heavier than Thorvlin expected, requiring both hands to raise it against his chest. Its shaft was a wooden slat from a tharo tree from home. The head of Malinor’s Hammer was composed of meteoric iron. Etched into the sides was a bronze, isometric design Thorvlin had seen in books and carvings since childhood. A thick, bronze band wrapped around the center of the hammer’s cheek, secured to the head and throat with iron rivets. On each side’s face, inlaid with bronze, was the symbol of Galbolduhr. After marveling at the find, Thorvlin turned his attention back to the company.
“He should no longer lie here. My brother and I will carry him from this place.” He brought the hammer to Kalzoum. “I believe he would want you to protect this.”
Kalzoum took it in his hands, admiring the weapon’s heft. “Aye. Thank you.”
“We need to leave,” the human commander said. “If there is one drake, there may be more. And by now, we must assume the Vard know we are here.”
Bautigan strapped the remains of Malinor to his brother’s back, and the two followed the company back to the surface.
* * *
The Book of Roon – Part 4 – The Vard
With Malinor and the Forge Fire Hammer gone, we turned our attention to establishing the far stones and Malmora as a second dwarven outpost. Then, the Vard arrived.
It is still not known if they left a dying system as ours will one day become, or if it is their nature to take what they decide is theirs, but they came upon us like a storm. They enslaved our kind, forcing us to mine necessary resources as they prepared to take the system. Those who rose up were dispatched; there were no more legends among us to be found.
Were it not for the humans, the system would have been lost. We were content to hide away under mountains and in rock belts; the Sylvanon lost themselves in their forests. The humans built their cities and prepared for a war the rest of us didn’t see coming.
The Vard met their equals when they moved toward the system’s inner planets. They never made it past The Delve as the Sons and Daughters of Histrides came together to meet them. Some say it was only because killing all Vard would have been difficult that the humans gave them what territory they have today. It is only in knowing they are under constant scrutiny from Irrades that they have never fully regained their strength.
Still, while no treaty was ever signed, we do not infringe on their space. We left Malmora, the Far Stones, and Thara to them.
* * *
Once back in the open, the remaining humans took the lead. The Sylvanon took their place at the flanks and rear, while the dwarves and the injured moved along in the middle. They were halfway back to the shuttles when the Vard opened fire.
“We see you!”
Several humans and Sylvanon were hit before the mission commander shouted, “Shields!”
The company tightened ranks and dropped to the ground, firing in the direction of the attack. Thorvlin saw nothing.
“They’re cloaked!” Steen said as he dropped to the ground beside the Forgefire brothers.
Thorvlin’s force shield pulsed with each Vardian shot it stopped. He scanned the battlefield and slapped Steen on the shoulder.
“There!”
Steen shook his head. Thorvlin rolled to his side and lined his arm up with Steen’s field of view.
“See it, now?”
Steen nodded and took careful aim at the generator on the far side of the battlefield. It only took one shot from his plasma rifle to uncloak the Vard.
They came in three waves, firing on the company as they advanced—not caring about their fallen. As the company closed the ranks, the dwarves readied themselves.
“You’re about to see something wonderful,” Thorvlin said. He turned back to smile at Steen just in time to see his visor shatter from a Vardian shot.
“Steen!”
Thorvlin charged past the perimeter, spinning and ducking while dropping Vardians with his axe. A rage reserved only for rare moments such as this consumed him. He heard his brother behind him.
The two formed a tiny ball, back to back, savoring the battle. It didn’t matter that the Vard were taller than the Sylvanon and as stout as dwarves—the brothers worked together, taking down any Vardian foolish enough to get in their way. Their efforts were not enough to tip things in the company’s favor.
The Vard divided in an attempt to flank the company. The plan worked once they breached the Sylvanon’s ranks. It seemed like such a loss to come so far, only to fall so close to success.
A Vardian alarm sounded; Thorvlin braced for them to finish off his compatriots. Instead, the Vard stopped their attack and retreated quickly.
“What’s that about?” Bautigan said.
Thorvlin felt the quake in his bones before spotting the source of Vardian terror.
From a distant cavern opening, a drake dwarfing the one in the cavern rose from the ground. It spread its wings and took to the sky.
“Run!!!”
Thorvlin and Bautigan turned toward the shuttles and ran as fast as they could. The gargantuan drake made a run at the Sylvanon ranks, destroying their soldiers and shuttle in a single pass. Most of the humans didn’t survive the second attack.
Thorvlin watched the mammoth beast bank and begin its final run. He thought about Steen and wished, for once, he had a plasma rifle—not that it would do any good, but at least he’d go down fighting. Thorvlin watched the drake fill its lungs and advance. He reached back and touched Malinor’s remains for strength. Were the old stories wrong? Was this Khurakmore?
It didn’t matter—nothing did in the moment, except Thorvlin’s pride. For a rockbiter working The Delve, he did his people proud.
A screaming came from above, but it was not from the grandest of drakes. The defenses on Irrades had never been used against Malmora and the Vard, but a message was sent in defense of the remaining company. The drake vaporized as a beam scoured the ground and sky in front of Thorvlin and the others. Three charges rained down after that, seeming to do more damage than the rogue planet that demolished Monte Skalbruder.
* * *
The Voyage Home
Twenty-two days until arrival at Vondra
Thorvlin spent most of the trip home in silence. There were no Hledatoml matches with Andaleein; no games of Ruuma with Steen and other new friends. Every corner of the HSC Criterion was a reminder that he was still here, while they were not.
“You mustn’t let this rule you,” Kalzoum said over dinner one evening. “Hold them in your heart, but do not blame yourself. They were soldiers; they knew the risks. The sacrificed themselves so that all our people will live.”
“I know,” Thorvlin said. “Still, it will take time. Perhaps one day I will take a trip outside the system, for Steen and the others—to see what they will not.”
“You have plenty of time to decide,” Kalzoum said. “There are better days to come.”
* * *
Throvlin stood on the bridge of the HBC Sol beside his brother and Kalzoum Axebiter. With the planet Izli behind them, it was just the ship and The Great Forge.
Several decks below, Malinor’s Hammer waited in a torpedo tube. Thorvlin and Bautigan had watched Kalzoum place it in a shell in preparation for its final mission.
“You hate to see it go,” Thorvlin said. “You hate to see a time come to an end.”
“As long as we are here to share our stories,” Kalzoum said, “nothing ever truly dies.”
“Still, it seems a shame to lose it.”
“It is what Malinor intended.”
On the bridge, Thorvlin and the other two dwarves were summoned to the main battle station. A human soldier activated the torpedo and pointed to Thorvlin. The ship’s captain said, “It only seems fitting to allow you the honor.”
With the press of a button, Thorvlin sent Malinor’s Hammer into the Great Forge, ensuring continued life to all the Sons and Daughters of Histrides.
* * *
The burial of a dwarf is both a somber and joyous occasion. When the years are exhausted and one enters Final Sleep, the weight of their existence is given to time—but their memories belong to their people.
Thorvlin and Bautigan were given the honor of attending Malinor’s entombment. They watched as he was carried into his final resting chamber; they marveled at the armor that would protect his corporeal remains forever. When it was his turn to pass and stop at the tomb, Thorvlin bowed and whispered, “Thank you. For all you have given our people; for all you have given me. I vow before you today to honor your memory for all my tomorrows.”
Thorvlin and Bautigan ascended from the tomb, where torchlight gave way to the Great Forge glowing on the horizon. The day was almost done, but their time on Galbolduhr was not. Their time in the system was once more guaranteed.
Thorvlin felt the warm light on his face. Maybe it was all in his mind, but it seemed brighter than he’d ever seen it. He filled his lungs with the air of his home world and sang with his people in honor of Malinor.
[Quirky music fades in…]
Christopher Gronlund:
Thank you for listening to Not About Lumberjacks.
Theme music, as always, is by Ergo Phizmiz. As I mentioned up front, all music in this episode is courtesy of Martin Goldmann.
Sound effects are made in-house or from Epidemic Sound and freesound.org. Visit nolumberjacks.com for information about the show, the voice talent, and the music. And, for as little as a dollar a month, you can support the show at patreon.com/cgronlund.
Next time, it’s another story with things rocky or stoney in the title. “The Song of Stones” is a tale told through time, about two people drawn to a particular location as they ponder turning points in their lives. It might end up my fifth story in a row with no swearing…
A quick thank you to William J Meyer for recently sharing a sound effect technique on his YouTube channel. I used it as the basis for the sound of the Vard. Check out bywilliamjmeyer.com—all one word—for more information about what he’s up to. If you want movies in your head, William has you covered. I’ll include a link to his site and YouTube channel in the show notes.
One last thing before wrapping up. I want to thank my wife, Cynthia Griffith—not only for voice effects in this episode, but for all her help with the show and Patreon. She’s always pitched in to help, but since starting my Patreon account, it’s been more like a partnership than her patiently listening to me or offering the occasional idea.
I used to collaborate with creative friends regularly, but don’t have opportunities to do so as much today. At times, what I do is lonely—and I’m fine with that because I enjoy solitude. But I must confess to having more fun with Not About Lumberjacks these last 6 months or so than I have since the beginning. No matter how ugly the world may get, this show is a refuge.
So, thanks to Cynthia, and thank you for listening. Time is a precious commodity, and it’s not lost on me how lucky I am to have a bit of yours.
[Quirky music fades out…]
[The sound of an axe chopping.]
Until next time: be mighty, and keep your axes sharp!
