Twelve Ways to Die in Galadore, Volume I by Coleman Alexander

Author:Coleman Alexander [Alexander, Coleman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-21T07:00:00+00:00

The group of dwarves burst into laughter, falling against one another as they hooted and hollered. Thonnos leaned back, satisfied. He’d drunk another mug in the time it took to tell the joke and another arrived a second before he felt like shouting for it.

“Where do you come up with this bullshit? Sprites and elves. There’s no such thing,” one of the lads said.

His neighbor looked at him as though he’d swallowed the keepstone whole. “What rock have you been hidin’ under, you dumb bastard? Have you never been up on the high of things?”

“Highest I’ve been was on top of your mother.”

More laughter erupted and Thonnos lifted his mug clear and scooted back as chairs clattered to the ground and the two dwarves tumbled onto each other like long lost lovers, rolling across the floor and making a proper mess of things. They carried on like this, with everyone watching and laughing, egging them on while neither gave an inch. Eventually, when it looked like they’d leave the mountains in splinters, they were pulled apart and each given a drink and a pat on the back, and the night looked like it would continue like all the other nights to pass under the mountains.

Music was playing at the far end of the hall. Two deep, twisted flutes accompanied by a traditional flute that wove around the others with the skill of The Seamstress and the Golden Thread. Their music, no doubt, was meant to replace things missing, and though it was beautiful, even stirring really, it was a far cry to what had once been. Thonnos could remember when the hall had been filled with the music of the caverns. The ever-shifting, ever-flowing seep of the grotto; the soft sound of water sliding pitter-patter down rocks, and the deeper rumble of churning in the deep. In those days, the dwarves had been content to sit in silence and listen to the mountains sing, rather than gather about and listen to the crude jokes and stories of a raider. Back then, there had been light, too, the green and blue and silver algae on the grotto walls phosphorescing in the night with such beauty that it would bring kings on a pilgrimage. But those were memories reserved for a dwarf living in the past, and Thonnos wanted nothing to do with memories. Instead, he sat watching the tail end of the squabble and listening to the music.

But soon he was roused from his reverie by a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find his brother, Valï, at his side.

“Brother! How are you?” he said, standing and embracing his youngest sibling. He brought him in for a sturdy hug and then let him go, looking him over. Valï was one of his fifteen brothers and sisters and by far his favorite. He was shorter and his beard wasn’t yet touched by grey, but he had a dozen braids and several more in his hair.

“Like rock and stone,” Valï said in greeting, but his voice was measured, and there was a grim slant to his lips.

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