The Brotherhood of Dwarves: Book 01 - The Brotherhood of Dwarves by D.A. Adams Read Free Book Online

too.”
    “Grussard, look,” one of his friends called, waving wildly. “It’s from the Keshgheon mines. Look at these markings.”
    “Shove it.”
    “My family might’ve mined this silver. Yours might’ve cast it.”
    “A lot of smiths made coins. I’m going home.”
    With that he left, and the others were too mesmerized by the coin to talk to Roskin, so the Kiredurk gathered his backpack and asked Molgheon to show him upstairs. She led him up a wooden ladder that passed through a wide hole in the ceiling. The air in the upstairs room was stale and dusty, but it felt more like home to Roskin than the outside. The room was filled with empty crates and barrels and had no furnishings except a square table that was covered with dry-rotted maps of the ancient Ghaldeon kingdom. There were small, round windows on each wall, but very little light came through.
    “This is it,” she said. “I’ll let you out in the morning.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.”
    “Don’t mind Grussard. He’s just proud and stubborn.”
    She went back to the ladder and descended with the same detached movements that she used taking and serving drinks. Roskin wondered what made a pretty dwarf like her so cold. As he unrolled the sleeping bag, the axe and dagger fell to the stone floor, and the axe chipped severely in the blade. He cursed under his breath and slid it in his backpack. The dagger was fine, so he crawled inside the bag and kept it by his side. Very shortly the long day was behind him.
    Some time in the night, Roskin woke from a presence near him. He sat up quickly and drew the dagger. A large figure lurched backwards and fell into some crates, causing a terrible noise. Roskin jumped to his feet and charged the intruder, but stopped short when he heard a tired, raspy voice beg for mercy.
    “What do you want?” Roskin asked.
    “Don’t hurt me. I just wanted to see them.”
    “See what?” Roskin asked, stepping closer to the figure who he realized was the bum, Red.
    “The coins. The dwarves said they were pretty.”
    Roskin glanced back and saw the contents of his backpack arranged neatly on the floor, but the purse was on his belt, which relaxed him slightly. Figuring that the old man was not a threat to outrun him, Roskin tossed the purse to Red, telling him to have a look. Red rolled to his side and poured the coins on the floor. Even in the faint light, they glittered brightly, and Red ran his fingers through them. Roskin had never spent much time around the human merchants who came to his kingdom, so he marveled at the intensity with which the man rubbed the coins.
    “Pretty indeed, white beard,” Red said.
    “What makes you think I’m a Kiredurk, stranger?”
    “Your axe. Only white beards carry that kind.”
    For a moment Roskin was impressed, but then he realized that the man had likely heard him telling the others downstairs. He stepped closer, keeping the dagger in his hand, and knelt beside the human, who stank of stale beer and filth.
    “Would you like to earn a couple of those?”
    “I’m old and feeble.”
    “That’s okay. I don’t need labor. I’m looking for someone.”
    “My memory is not so good.”
    “Do you know the exiled general?”
    “The one the ogres call Evil Blade?”
    “The same.”
    “He’s dead,” Red said sadly. “Three years ago.”
    “Are you sure it was him?”
    Red described how the general lived in a wooden shack just outside the fort. During a long freeze, the dishonored man took a cough that got worse and worse until the guards were tired of hearing it day and night. They drug him from his home and left him in the ice and snow to die. He stayed alive through the day, but that night, his cough went silent. When sunrise came, the guards saw that wolves had drug off and eaten the body. Only bloody rags were found in the woods.
    Roskin sat down in disbelief. The notion that Evil Blade was not here had never entered his mind. He had been so sure of his plan that he hadn’t