Free Carnifex (Legends of the Nameless Dwarf Book 1) by D.P. Prior Page A

tow as Carnifex climbed to his feet.
    “You all right, sir?” Ming Garnik said, sprinting ahead of the group.
    “Fine, laddie, fine.” Truth was, Carnifex was shaking from limb to limb. A split second later, and he’d have been a crimson spatter across the rails.
    A silver panel in the side of the carriage slid open with a rush of air, and a bedraggled dwarf shambled out onto the platform.
    “Rugbeard?” Carnifex said. “You’re the night warden?”
    “Am now, for what it’s worth.”
    Night warden of the mines was a far cry from being the principle teacher of the Annals ; it was a long way to fall.
    Rugbeard swayed on his feet, then took a lurching step toward Carnifex.
    “I know you, son?” His voice was slurred, and his eyes were unfocused. They had a yellowish tinge, too, same as the skin of his face.
    “Course you know me. Carnifex. Carnifex Thane. You taught me the Annals as a boy.”
    “Never heard of him.”
    “And you made me my training weights, remember?” Donkey’s years ago, when Rugbeard had set up his own forge so he could experiment with the metalworking techniques recorded in the Annals . He’d come up with a few innovations, not least of which was a set of iron plates of different poundages that could be added to a barbell. Apparently, it’s how the Founders had trained for strength and power all those centuries ago. Knowing Carnifex had a passion for lifting, Rugbeard had worked with him on the design, and left him with the finished product.
    “That was you?” Rugbeard said. Then a light went on in his eyes. “Carnifex Thane! Droom’s boy.”
    “What’s going on?” Kal said. “Was that you that set off the klaxon?”
    “Cranked it, you mean.” Rugbeard flexed his elbow and gave his biceps a firm rub. “The effort half killed me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slender metal flask, spun the cap off, and took three quick swigs. “Scared the shog out of me, it did.”
    “The klaxon?” Carnifex said.
    The other four Red Cloaks were peering inside the carriage Rugbeard had stepped out of. They would never have seen such a thing before.
    “Thumping, from down in the shaft,” Rugbeard said. “Deep down, I’d have to say. Rattled the headframe. Damned near caused a cave-in.”
    “An earthquake?” Muckman Brindy said, stepping away from the carriage. His fingers stroked the hilt of the sword sheathed at his hip.
    Rugbeard shook his head. “Thumping, I said. And footfalls. Heavy footfalls. There’s something down there, I tell you, and I wasn’t about to stick around and find out what it was.”
    “You’re sure, laddie?” Carnifex eyed the flask as Rugbeard once more brought it to his lips.
    “Oh, aye,” Rugbeard said. “Blame it on the booze, why don’t you? Ol’ Rugbeard’s pissed out of his brain as usual, and can’t tell fact from fiction, is that what you’re thinking? I tell you, I heard thumping, and if you don’t believe me, go listen for yourself. You ask me, I reckon it’s Shent, up to his old tricks again.”
    “Shent?” Kal said.
    “The Ant-Man. Him from the Annals . Back when Sektis Gandaw made us dwarves to mine the scarolite he built his mountain with, he created ants the size of horses to guard the tunnels. Then he took a human and melded it with one of them, so it could keep the rest under control.”
    Carnifex remembered the tale from his youth. “But the Ant-Man left the mines centuries ago.”
    Rugbeard shrugged, and took another swig. “So, now he’s back.”
    Carnifex wasn’t convinced. “And he thumps so hard, he can near-collapse the shaft?”
    “Maybe.” Rugbeard snorted and returned the flask to his pocket. “What else could it be?”
    “Let’s go take a look.”
    “I ain’t going back there,” Rugbeard said.
    Kal and Dar Shoofly moved to block his retreat.
    “Don’t see you have much choice, laddie,” Carnifex said. “You’re the night warden. And besides, none of us have ever seen this train before,