“Adil?” Melbil called worriedly, as she pushed through the throngs in the dining hall. A steady stream of dwarves poured out of the doors leading to the kitchens, each one carrying a mug of liquor, a plate piled high with steaming food, or both. A group of dwarves on the other side of the hall were playing a game of some sort involving dice bouncing off one of the artifacts on display. From the table beside her, her elderly neighbor Urvad Painturns the woodcutter turned a sympathetic look in her direction.
“Boy gone again, I take it?” He slurped his ale noisily as the cheering behind him raised to a crescendo. He and his wife were migrants from the western part of the continent, and his accent was a constant reminder of that fact. “I seen 'im down the deep way, by the lower lumber pile.” The old dwarf grinned at her, showing missing teeth. “Boy may need trainin’ to be a woodcutter – he loves them caverns!”
“Caverns?!” Melbil caught her breath. “He was in the caverns? I’ll wring his stubby neck! I told him he wasn’t to go below the 10th deep! I’ve been all over this fortress looking for him!” She slumped into a chair and rubbed her feet. “When did you see him?”
“It were about two hours past, missus. I was comin’ off me shift, an’ I seen him scamperin’ about in the fungiwood pile. He looked perfectly fine to me.” Urvad visibly brightened. “Ah, t’ missus wanted t’ see you as well! Erush asked me t’ tell ye.”
“Lek save us all, this boy will be the death of me.” Melbil struggled to her feet, visibly wincing as she did so. “Tell Erush I’ll be by, if and when I find this crazed runabout.” Sighing wearily, she trudged off towards the stairwell. Urvad toasted her silently as she went, clearly glad his children were all raised and gone.
**
Melbil was rounding the corner to the wood storage area when a small form hurtled into her, almost knocking her over. “Mother!” came the high pitched yell, as she felt arms wrap around her waist. “I saw the lake in the caverns and the fungus trees and I saw an elk bird off in the distance and Mr. Oilyclaws was on the ceiling and told me…” His monologue was rudely interrupted as he was lifted up by the back of his tunic to face a furious glare.
“Adil Mountrazor!” Melbil was livid. “I told you three times, you were not to be down here!” Hours of worry suddenly transformed into rage. Seizing the boy by his ear, she headed for the stairs at top speed. “I’ve had all I’m going to take of this Mr. Oilyclaws business! He’s not real, and I’ll not have you lying to me about what your imaginary friend told you to do when you’re clearly disobedient! A good dwarf never blames another for his own mistakes! A good dwarf does what he says, and keeps his promises! And Lek the Mysterious Maze knows, we’ll be lucky indeed if you grow up into a good dwarf! My own mother told me…”
Adil whimpered. It was going to be a long walk back home.
**
“Erush, I’ll tell you, this boy is about to drive me mad.” Melbil put her feet up on a little stool, grunting a little as she did so. “If it wasn’t for Urvad, I’d never have found him. Night and day, he runs around all over this place, and he’s got enough energy for three of me! Now this business of Mr. Oilyclaws…”
“Mr Wot?” Said Erush as she poured her friend some more ale. “Wot in Zenub’s name is an Oilyclaws? Sounds like a goblin to me!” She looked uneasily around the little room she shared with Urvad, as though some green-skinned threat were going to leap out of the cabinet or jump out from beneath the bed.
“Oh, it’s an imaginary friend he’s got… I swear, every morning and night I get an earful of what Mr. Oilyclaws thinks, where Mr. Oilyclaws went, what Mr. Oilyclaws likes and doesn’t like to eat, who Mr. Oilyclaws likes and doesn’t like to see… it’s all a bit much, if you ask me. I don’t know where he got that name from, but it’s been going on for months! I’m beginning to wish we had a proper priest here. I try to get Adil to spend time with the other children but he’s always off running around by himself.”
Erush’s wrinkled old face smiled. “Well,” she said, “imaginary friends are a thing, now aren’t they? I remember, our Enid ‘ad a friend like that. Urvad got Shedim to carve a doll for ‘er, a pretty little elf princess. She named the thing Lady Smoothface.” The old dwarf cackled. “Lady, if ye please! Duchess more like, an’ me daughter was ‘er ‘Ammerer! We all lived at the mercy o’ the whims o’ that doll fer a solid year! More than once Urvad rued the day he’d asked ol’ Sheddy fer the favor.”
Melbil giggled at the idea of Urvad and Erush running around at the behest of a doll, but her face grew solemn. “Well, Adil says nothing like that, at least. Mr. Oilyclaws doesn’t seem to be the demanding sort, thank Lek for that. It just seems… odd, a young dwarf wanting nothing more than to be wandering off by himself, talking to things that aren’t there.”
“Ah, dear….” Erush patted Melbil’s hand sympathetically. “It will pass, I promise ye, and ye’ll look back on it wi’ fondness soon enow. Enid grew past it, and soon she married and ‘twas the last we ‘eard of the good Lady. It will pass, see if it don’t.”
“Thank you, Erush. You’re always a rock. I’d have lost my mind years ago if it weren’t for you and Urvad. You’ve been there for me ever since the accident took Bim.” The old dwarf looked down, embarrassed, as Melbil hugged her. “I don’t say thank you enough, but I do appreciate it, more than you know.” Melbil stood up, sighing as her much-abused feet took her weight once again. “Now, I will go back home, and see what Adil has to say for himself after an hour facing the wall.”
**
“Melbil!” Urvad’s seamed face was full of worry. “Is yer boy t’ home?”
A chill ran through her bones. “What’s happened? Why do you ask?” In all the years she had lived by Urvad and Erush, she had never seen the old dwarf show anything but a determined cheerfulness.
“Ahh… missus, I weren’t t’ tell ye, but yer boy was t’ woodpile again, ‘is sae maernin’… T’ soldiers ha’ shet t’ caves, an’… an’…” His upset was obvious; Urvad’s western accent was so pronounced the words were almost incomprehensible. All Melbil needed to hear was ‘woodpile’, and she was off running.
As she burst into the cavern entrance at the 30th deep, the Ruby Gloves militia were milling around at the entrance to the caverns on the far side of the woodpile. One of the soldiers blocked her path as she tried to run through.
“No, madam, the caverns are closed.” His mail gauntlet was cold on her arm, but she hardly noticed.
“My son is in those caves. Get your hands off me.” She struggled to free her arm. “Adil!” She shouted.
“Shut that woman up!” the commander said quietly but forcefully, glaring from across the room. “Before we all end up as ogre food!”
“O… ogres?” Melbil felt faint. The room seemed to swim around her.
“Yes, madam… ogres.” The soldier holding her said. “A tribe of blind cave ogres has been poking about across the lake. We have been watching them for days. We thought they could not pass to this side of the water, but clearly we were mistaken. Doren Paintchambers died in the first assault; the others escaped, though Ingiz will be in the hospital for a good while with a broken leg. We are here to ensure that if they break the door, there will be a defense for you and the rest of the fortress. We very much need you to return upstairs at this time.” She realized that, in the time they had been speaking, the sound of ogres hooting at each other had drawn near the door.
As she opened her mouth to reply, the distant sound of ogre hooting was replaced with sounds of a child yelling. She knew that voice. She had heard it every day for the past seven years. Tears streamed down her face. Finally the shouting stopped. There wasn’t any more noise from the caves.
She stood, numb and devastated, in the middle of a ring of soldiers. The recruit who had stopped her placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry” he started, but stopped. Words really didn’t cover this sort of situation. Even the commander gave her a look of sympathy as he waved for her to return to the stairs. At that precise moment, the door rattled and then opened.
“Adil?” She couldn’t believe her eyes. “How…?” She raced over and swept him up in a hug. Pressing her face into his shoulder, she could feel tears streaming down her face.
“Mother! It was amazing! You should have seen it! The big uglies came and they were making loud noises and Mr. Oilyclaws stopped them because he’s so strong and they couldn’t even move and then…” Adil was physically shaking he was so excited. He hadn’t even noticed how upset his mother was.
The militia captain interrupted. “What about the ogres? Are they gone?”
Adil was uncharacteristically quiet. Then he said “Yes.” His eyes were big and focused far away. “Gone.”
**
When the militia returned, Melbil was sitting on the steps holding her son. He had spun her a long tale about how his imaginary friend had saved him, but she didn’t care. He was alive, that was what mattered.
The captain stomped over to them, and said brusquely “What the hell happened in there? You, boy, who killed those ogres?”
“Mr. Oilyclaws, I told you. He jumped on them and they didn’t know he was even there. He got the first one and the others tried to run, but he’s fast and strong and he can sit on the ceiling.”
“Well, I’d like to meet this oilyclawed friend of yours. Those ogres were torn apart. The whole fortress needs a friend like that. If it was you though,” the captain went down on one knee so they were eye to eye, “I want you at the barracks tomorrow. Now what really happened?”
“Well…” Adil turned his foot back and forth in front of himself. “Mr. Oilyclaws doesn’t like everyone. He thinks most dwarves are just mean. We can see if he wants to meet you.”
Melbil was amazed. “All this time, I’ve never seen him, and I’m your mother! You mean other people can see him?” She began to worry that Erush’s talk of goblins was right, especially anything that could take on and defeat several full grown ogres. What kind of demonic being would befriend a child, and for what dark purpose?
“He lives in the caves, you don’t ever come down here.” Going to the door, he leaned out into the caves and made a high pitched chittering sound. Rustling sounds came from the darkness, but nothing was visible until the boy repeated the call several times. Finally, reflective eyes were visible as a giant cave spider crept around the corner and huddled protectively around the little dwarven boy. “This is Mr. Oilyclaws.”
Melbil didn’t know what to do. This was the terrifying… thing… that had been keeping company for months with her son?
The militia captain said timidly, “Is… is it friendly?”
“Oh yes” the little boy said, stroking the spider’s hairy foreleg. “He’s my friend.” The spider chittered softly and groomed the boy’s hair.
The militia captain turned to Melbil and said “Madam, today your son has done more to protect this fort than I have. I recommend you send him to train as a ranger. If he can tame that thing even as a child, there’s no telling what legends he will make by the time he is finished.”
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Topic: Mr. Oilyclaws (Read 849 times)