Downfall

Dhamon shook his head. "No trace. But I did find something else very interesting." And then he vanished inside the cave, with Fetch and Rikali behind him.

"Lady Knights first." Maldred bowed to Fiona, who started up the ridge. He made a move to follow her, but Rig put a hand on his shoulder.

"She's my woman," the mariner said simply. "We're gonna be married in a few months. I don't like the way you're always looking at her. And I'm tired of you occupying her time."

Maldred grinned. "I'd say she's her own woman. And you're not married yet." Then he pushed in front of the mariner before the astonished Rig could say anything.

The mariner stood alone on the ridge for several minutes, listening to the rain pattering against the rocks and glancing down at the village, which looked like scattered doll houses, the people and goats merely bugs meandering around in senseless patterns amid the puddles that he hoped would become a lake and swallow Knollsbank up.

* * * * * * *

Little light filtered in from outside, but it was just enough for Dhamon to see this wasn't a normal cave. He stood inside the tall, narrow entrance, on an ancient mosaic floor made of variously colored stone chips. Six lofty pillars stretched from floor to ceiling, at least forty feet high. They were gigantic tree trunks, practically uniform in girth, and he wondered what engineering feat brought them up this mountain and then fitted them inside this place. They were practically white with age, and carved with the images of dwarves standing atop each others' shoulders. The one at the very top of each column wore a crown, and their upreached arms seemed to support the cavern's roof.

"By my breath!" Rikali slipped in beside him, Fetch sliding between the pair.

"A torch," Dhamon began. "I want to get a better look at this."

"Fee-ohn-a has them in her pack," Rikali said unpleasantly.

When the others finally joined them and a torch was lit, many more dwarven images were revealed. Carved into the walls of the cave, each visage was different and incredibly detailed: men, women, children, some warriors by their helmets and scarred faces, others religious folk by the symbols worn around their necks. A myriad of emotions were displayed on the faces: happiness, pride, grief, love, wonder, and more.

The floor was smooth and level. The chips of painted stone were tiled across it to form the face of a most impressive dwarf, wild hair flaring out to touch the cavern walls, the pillars practically framing an aged, wise-looking leader. The color had faded, but Dhamon surmised the braided beard was bright red at one time, and the beads woven into it were tinged with silver and gold. The wide-set eyes were sunken and black, forming braziers that might have been used in some long-ago ceremony.

"Reorx," Dhamon said, his hand drifting down to the pommel of his sword. The nape of his neck was tingling. Something didn't feel right in this place, but he couldn't identify what was wrong. He stared into the image's eyes. It was like someone was watching him, a sensation he learned to identify when he was with the Knights of Takhisis. He wanted to be back in Bloten, with his new sword and on his way. He glanced away and to the pillars. "This must be one of Reorx's temples."

"Who?" Rikali tugged on his sleeve. "Who is Re-or-ax?"

"You don't know?" This from Fetch.

The half-elf shook her head.

"A god," Dhamon said softly. "A dwarf I once knew, Jasper, told me a lot about him. Jasper considered himself a priest of Reorx. Even after the gods left."

"And this Jasper, did he ever meet Re-or-ax?"

Dhamon shook his head.

Rikali made a tsking sound and whispered it was foolish to revere someone you'd never met. She raised her voice. "Well, did this Re-or-ax accomplish much when he was around? Other than to have temples built to him high in some stupid mountain?"

"According to dwarven tales, Riki, the High God was disturbed at the jumbled chaos all around him. He whittled twenty-one sticks, the stoutest of which became the god Reorx." Dhamon pointed at the image on the floor. "Reorx said he would make a world, round and sturdy, in his own likeness. He was called the Forger, and by striking his hammer at the jumbled chaos, the sparks became stars. The last blow birthed Krynn. I'd say that's accomplishing quite a bit."

"So the tales say," the half-elf laughed. "You don't believe all that nonsense, do you? Not that it matters none, what with all the gods being gone anyway."

Dhamon shrugged. "When the gods were here, the dwarves considered Reorx the greatest of all the powers. Humans saw him merely as Kiri-Jolith's helper. But the dwarves…" His voice drifted off and again he found himself staring at the pits that made up the image's eyes. "It is said that Reorx's next-greatest creation was the Grey-stone of Gargath, which led to the creation of dwarves, gnomes, and kender."

"So the tales say," Fetch added.