Free The Brotherhood of Dwarves: Book 01 - The Brotherhood of Dwarves by D.A. Adams Page B

tried to stand, but his body was frozen from the two molten embers, and Roskin passed out from the pain.

Chapter 5
    Into the Land of the Outcasts
    Roskin awoke in a soft bed with the scent of powder all around him; his dreams had been strange and much too long – mice gnawing on his back and shoulder and a sprite from the deep washing his beard. It was dark in his room, that familiar black darkness of the underground, and he was glad to be home. He wanted to get out of bed, but his limbs were heavy and stiff from sleep, so he lay still and listened to the darkness. Across the room, labored breathing ground in and out, in and out. It was strange for someone to be sleeping in his room, and he was curious to learn who it was.
    He tried to sit up, but a sharp tightness in his back and shoulder froze him, so instead he turned his head in that direction. As he stared across the room, his grogginess lessened, and he realized that the darkness was not that of underground but of thick blankets covering the room’s windows. He could just make out a faint iridescence where blanket and sill were not flush. The realization broke his heart, for he understood that he wasn’t in his bedroom in the safety of Dorkhun, and his stepmother and siblings weren’t down the hall waiting to have breakfast with him. Even worse, he had no idea where he was or how he got there.
    He remembered the scuffle with the guards of the southern gate and the fight with the orcs. Torkdohn, the tavern, Molgheon, and Grussard all came back slowly. The blacksmith was dead because of him. He remembered Red and the bridge, how they barely escaped capture, and the wagon in the mud, how they struggled to push it to the road. Then, there was a fight, and he had killed several men. No, only two or three. Molgheon and Bordorn had killed the rest, but Bordorn had fallen and was bloody all over. He had wanted to get Bordorn to safety, but then his memory became a blur of images that wouldn’t quite connect. There were a voice shouting and a lot of bouncing. Then, he was drifting through his kingdom, mapping it all again. At some point, a beautiful woman was bathing him and pouring liquid in his mouth, and he wanted to marry her. Maybe that was the story his father used to tell about his elfish mother. He didn’t know.
    He tried to call out, wanting anyone to come to him and tell him if Bordorn was alive or if Red and Molgheon had escaped, but his mouth and throat were too dry. He could summon only a whisper. He moved his right arm above his head and felt along the mattress’s edge for something to bang, but the wall was stone, and he couldn’t reach the bed’s rail. He reached out from the bed and felt a small stand beside it, so he grabbed an edge and pushed as hard as he could. The stand rocked just enough to send something clattering to the floor. A moment later, footsteps neared the door, and suddenly light flooded the room, causing him to shut his eyes and roll his head away.
    “He’s awake,” a female voice said.
    “Water,” he said, hardly more than a murmur.
    “Fetch him a drink,” a male voice said. Roskin didn’t recognize either one.
    “Can you see?” the male dwarf asked, picking up the metal pan that had fallen from the stand.
    “Too bright,” Roskin answered.
    “Good. That’s good. You are very lucky, young Tredjard. Those arrows almost took you.”
    “Arrows?”
    “You were shot. Twice.”
    The other dwarf returned with a wooden cup of water and held it to his lips. His pupils had adjusted to the light, and he could see her face, but she was not the woman in his dreams. He held the water in his mouth and swallowed slowly, letting only small sips down his throat.
    “You’ve been here for two weeks, barely awake at all till now.”
    “Where are the others?”
    “Molgheon and Red are downstairs,” the female said. “Bordorn is in that bed, sleeping like you.”
    “He’s alive?”
    “Barely,” the male replied. “We’ll