Chapter Thirty-Five


    “You’ve returned”-the dwarf took a sip of his silver flask, “Ah was wonderin’ if you would.”


    Ambrose lifted up the Djinn’s heart,


    “I have what you asked for. One epic ingredient. Are you going to keep your word?”


    Aleksei raised an eyebrow, studying the heart. Finally, he let out a low whistle and spat to one side,


    “Ah would say you’ve done better than ah could have hoped. Alright, human, let’s go see the king.”


    He followed Aleksei into the mountain’s depths.


    ***


    Under the mountain looked like you might expect a mining operation to look, except with less modern equipment. Rail carts had been set up, with glowing stone-like flickering embers set up in sconces at various key points in the walls.


    Somehow the dwarves had managed to hollow out the place, if the System hadn’t done it for them. Dwarves mined in what Ambrose could only call a merry fashion. Tunless, joyfuk whistling carried through the air, drowned out by the sound of pickaxes striking stone.


    As they walked, he saw a few of the dwarves place ore in the carts, and then touch a glyph on the side of it. A flash of bright green light and the cart would zip down the railways deeper into the mountain.


    “Aren’t you worried someone will try to get in while you aren’t up there?” He asked Aleksei.


    Aleksei shook his head,


    “Baltair is takin’ mah place for now.”


    Ambrose nodded, assuming Baltair was another dwarf. As they walked, going ever deeper, he decided to fish for information,


    “Where do you all come from?”


    Aleksei fingered his beard,


    “We hail from Dweverheim.”


    “Surely not all of you came here,” he stated to the dwarf.


    Aleksei laughed,


    “O’course not! This is one o’ our Incursion forces. One of our nobles becomes king of the force and leads it into the new world.”


    Ambrose grunted. He supposed that made sense to do if you were already an established world.


    “How many of you are there?”


    If Aleksei had noticed the probing nature of his questions, he either didn’t care or didn’t see Ambrose as a threat. Maybe it was both.


    “There’s a few hundred o’ us. A solid portion o’ us is D-Grade, too.”


    Finally, they came to a chamber with a solid path made of smooth red stone that led to a large set of golden double doors adorned with images. Dwarves were fighting winged serpentine creatures. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Dragons! They’re fighting dragons! He realized.


    Your kind fought the dwarves? He thought at Akaroth.


    She gave the mental equivalent of a snort.


    It was more like breaking twigs with iron claws.


    The images unfolded almost like a story, from the bottom of the doors outward towards the top. They showed dwarves in mountains with piles of treasure and on thrones. Dragons would come against them, burning and slaughtering. They would settle into the treasure themselves, pushing the dwarves out.


    Not to be deterred, the dwarves built massive ballistas with special stone-tipped projectiles specifically designed to pierce dragon scale.


    We called them wing-clippers. The dwarves would shoot them through our membranes, ending our flight.


    Akaroth’s voice was filled with pained anguish.


    According to this, the dwarves were just taking back what dragons stole from them.


    Even the calmest lake reflects the storm, hatchling.


    Her thoughts died off after that. Aleksei pushed the doors open to reveal more red stone leading up to a dais. On that dais was a round throne of gold with an emerald sheen. Countless jewels were inlaid into the seat. Frankly, to Ambrose, it looked somewhat uncomfortable.


    On the throne sat a dwarf in gleaming silver armor with a simple iron crown. His features were as noble as a dwarves could be, with gray eyes holding within them a sea of wisdom. His black beard had touches of silver, and breaded through it were rings of iron. He was the tallest dwarf he had seen yet.


    Smile lines were on his face, and his ringed fingers drummed on his throne armrests. His gray eyes flicked to Ambrose as he entered. Aleksei bowed low, but Ambrose merely nodded his head in respect.


    Amusement twinkled in the dwarf king’s eyes.


    “Not one inclined toward accepting any authority but your own, are you, boy?”


    His voice was a river flowing over stone, merry, free, and touched with a hint of cold.


    He shrugged,


    “I’m here to discuss a possible alliance between our peoples.”


    The dwarf king smiled,


    “It is customary to exchange introductions upon meeting someone new in my world. Is that not the same here in yours, boy?”


    Ambrose frowned. He tried to push past the boy comments.


    “It is. I apologize; I am eager to be done with this. My name is Ambrose Severen.”


    “’Tis forgiven. I am Herne Throrvin, known as the Hunter King.”


    Akaroth growled within his mind, and he felt mental claws tense in anticipation of a fight.


    Forget this alliance, hatchling. Let us raze this place to the ground and mount that murderer’s head upon a spike for all the world to see!


    He nearly blinked at the ferocity of her words but chose to ignore them for now. He’d dig into that at a later time.


    “Aleksei informs me you have brought me the heart of a Djinn,” Herne said.


    Ambrose produced the heart, holding it out to the dwarf king. Aleksei took it from him and brought it toward his leader. Herne picked it up, studying it with a critical eye. He grunted in satisfaction,


    “A valuable gift. Very well, boy. Let us discuss this alliance.”


    Ambrose suppressed a sigh of relief. Finally, he was getting somewhere. He would close this obstacle and would be one step closer to pursuing Eric.


    “I have simple terms that boil down to live and let live. You can have this mountain, have the surrounding land, and in exchange you help me close the other Incursions. Once that’s done, we live our lives. Maybe even set up teleportation arrays to visit one another.”


    Herne let loose a booming laugh that echoed throughout the throne room like rolling thunder.


    “It is not so simple as a verbal agreement, boy. I’m afraid we will need scribes. Aleksei?”


    The dwarf made a strange rolling gesture with his hand,


    “At once, sire.”


    Aleksei turned and walked from the chamber. Presumably, to go and fetch this scribe.


    “I’ve done verbal agreements before, the System backs them,” Ambrose said.


    Herne waved a hand,


    “Of course it does. However, it only backs the letter of the agreement. We must make sure to get everything in writing to cover the most ground. I will have my people fetch you a chair; I’m afraid you’ll be here a while.”


    Internally, he groaned. He was hoping for a simple deal. Agree to help each other and not to kill one another, and move on. Briefly, he lamented not bringing Andrea along for this. Maybe he could go get her and bring her here? No, he dismissed the idea. She was dealing with Avalon’s affairs; closing these Incursions was his responsibility.


    Herne leaned forward, eyes flashing like lightning,


    “In the meantime, why don’t you tell me why you have brought a sky slug in my presence, human.”