~~~ Rockfalls the Depths of Volcanoes ~~~Journal of Goden, Expedition Leader of the Assembly of Smiths, Limestone 202It falls to me to say the Burial Words. I did not want any of the leadership roles here, but the fates have aligned to thrust them upon me. But to do Stukos justice, I must first recount the events leading up to his death.
Seven exploratory scouts, miners and builders all, were sent out by the High Tools in the year 200. The war with the goblins was not going as well as it could have; we were fighting a defensive front for the first time in centuries. We were part of an ingenious plan to ensure the survival of the dwarven people.
We seven were to found a completely sealed fortress, to be cut off from the empire perhaps forever. We called it Idumid Amas Stodir, but the name that stuck was Rockfalls – the Depths of Volcanoes.
The plan was that we would build the foundations of Rockfalls at the tip of the magma vent, and two years later, its citizens would join us. At that point, we would drive explosive charges into the ground and cause an upwelling of molten rock, sealing us off.
If things went well with the war, empire pump operators would be sent in several decades to uncover us and refresh our population, before continuing the great project. If things did not go well...
If the empire fell... Well, then. We dwarves would live on forever, protected by miles of molten rock, until our mastery of engineering was such that we could sunder our defences and drain the magma ourselves, from WITHIN our obsidian shell.
The first tragedy came early on in the construction, when thin, weak, clumsy Lokum the Mason dropped a block in exactly the wrong place. One cave-in later, our dour and down-to-earth manager, who did the bookkeeping, was dead.
Our leader, doctor and craftsdwarf was Thikut. She tried to save him, but his body had ruptured in numerous places. She said the Burial Words over him, and his responsibilities passed on to me.
Our excavation was nearing completion when the goblins found us.
We had three warrior women, miners and builders of the highest quality, who drove them off. But the foul creatures of the Fleshy Torment did not leave without managing to grievously wound Thikut. Without a capable doctor, she succumbed to infection within weeks.
Thikut was sociable, but interested only in facts and the real world. It was her vision which had grounded us, her words which had comforted us. Having the least to do, I took over as broker, diplomat and leader. I said the Burial Words over her, with great unease.
By the autumn of 202, we had hewn our new home from the bones of the earth. My mechanical skill combined with Stukost's chemical and scaffolding expertise saw the great explosive pumps quickly put in place, ready to drive magma into the basin surrounding our fortress.
The fifteen migrant workers reached us early in the season, and made short work of moving the supplies and furnishings into Rockfalls. The mountainhomes sent us our official instructions: to take the supplies sent on by our human allies, then seal ourselves in, creating our own microcosm society until the engineers were sent out to relieve us.
The humans' shabby empire was the Accidental Confederation, a group of fiefdoms and city-states hurriedly allied together to combat the growing tide of goblins in the land. They were to bring the required food and other supplies too heavy to bring on our first two wagons.
They appeared on the horizon on the fifth of Limestone, moving faster than we had expected. A black tide was dogging their heels: hordes and hordes of foul goblins.
We stood alert and strong. Our brave miners, Jitters, Squadron Leader and Skink-killer, stood at the entry way, prepared to sell their lives dearly. Behind them clustered the younger and stronger of the new arrivals, tightly gripping axes, knives and chunks of stone. It was a grim moment.
I knew what had to be done.
I knew, but Stukost, bless and damn him, knew too. I could have done it, I SHOULD have done it. I had no family.
But Stukost argued. He was fitter, faster, and I was – reluctantly – the leader.
In the end, the carpenter and chemist had his way. He knew the quickest route to all the buried triggers.
The preliminary cracks had been opened the previous week, and magma bubbled and seeped around the pilings on which Rockfalls sat. We watched Stukost silhouetted against the orange light, running from piton to piton, and the earth began to rumble as chemicals exploded far below.
The goblins crested the hill and carried down the slopes, waving their weapons and screaming vulgarly. Magma was welling up rapidly around the fortress, and licked at the bottom of the steps as I stood watching. The dwarves behind me were scrambling to assemble a makeshift wooden bridge, to let Stukost return safely to the fortress.
Stukost himself activated the last explosive piton and turned to watch our efforts, smiling wryly from across the chasm. Magma bubbled between us and him. He was a professional carpenter. He knew there was no hope.
We watched the kiss he blew his wife, heard his grunt as an arrow lodged in his shoulder.
Then he turned, made his run-up, and leapt.
It was an amazing leap, but the distance was simply too great.
He landed up to his waist in the lava's crust, burning slowly to death before us. He held on to the gangplank with one hand as we dragged it in.
The first rivulets of molten stone were flowing in through the doors. I had already ordered the gears turned.
The workers started out trying to drag Stukost to safety. Less than a minute later, they were extinguishing his blazing charcoal carcase in piles of sand.
The thick, smooth doors of magma-proof dolomite ground closed, shutting us in, leaving only a small pool of molten rock cooling on the floor.
The fortress was sealed, darkened, but my eyes adjusted to see by the faint glow of magma against the outer walls.
I could see enough to salute respectfully as Stukost's smoking body was laid carefully out.
And then, as I must, I turned away to give the orders.
That is how Stukost came to die, leaving behind his wife Mrs Oassis, who had travelled from the mountainhomes to join him, his daughter Unib of three years, similarly, and his baby Tekkud, who was born here.
Stukost the Master of Pumps and Gantries, you were a dwarf of true grit. Lurit, God of the Mountains, spread your hands across his face.
The other three survivors of our original expeditionary force have words to say, which will be carved upon his tomb.
Squadron Leader wishes it known that Stukost was fastidious to a fault, highly skilled and most capable.
Skink-killer says that she has seldom met a dwarf so capable of holding his drink.
Jitters McHighland informs the world that Stukost was a kind dwarf with steady hands; he will be sorely missed.
So say we, and so say I, Goden of the Assembly of Smiths, leader of an expedition from the High Tools to the Hamlet of Idumid Amas Stodir.
The words are spoken; I must turn now to earthly things.
There is much to be done.
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Topic: Rockfalls the Depths of Volcanoes ~ The story of 20 dwarves in a pressure cooker (Read 70158 times)