Cornerstone (book)

The Cornerstone
By Lagerby Crimsonjaw

My most vivid memory as a child is being huddled in the small alcove of a cavern with my mother and siblings, together with other women and children of the Clan. Life in our Dwarven Mining Community meant lots of moving around well away from the main Cities. The tears were rolling down my mother's face into her beard, her worry lines furrowed deep into her brow. The din of battle echoing through the cavern sounded closer now than ever we heard before. My father of course had been in battle many times protecting our area. After each one, he would gather the children around and recount the glory of our victory. Of course his recounting was always told in such a way as to not worry us; at that time I believed that a rock troll was a small furry critter with sharp teeth and claws, dangerous but not deadly.

The mothers clutched their children close, the children quiet with concern and confusion. The battle had lasted longer than any before. Standing on the stump of a broken off stalagmite was the Elder Priest. Standing proud, the old dwarf's white braided beard shook as he chanted. The sleeves of his robe fell when he raised his arms revealing the ceremonial tattoos of the Dwarven priesthood. He exuded confidence and pride. We all joined him in many prayers to Kertigen, Everild, and Chadatru. I was too spellbound by the fervent chanting and prayers to notice that the battle was almost upon us. The women gathered together in a hurried conference and argued for a few minutes. They seemed to come to an agreement and soon were heading out of the alcove, leaving us two dozen or so children alone with the Elder Priest.

The Elder Priest, pausing between chants, prepared a concoction in a large ornate jar. He poured into the jar many vials of liquid of differing colors, from murky brown to azure blue. A mist seemed to rise from the jar. He then approached each child, and had it drink from this mystical draught; the larger of us drinking two or three times. He told us that Kertigen would bring to us courage and strength.

The draught tasted of fire and honey. It immediately eased my fears somewhat. All the children seemed calmer. The Elder Priest again continued with his chants, becoming more fervent. We were enthralled now by the Priest. He seemed to grow larger the more he chanted, the din of battle seemed to fade from my ears. My head was swimming in the comfortable haze the draught provided me. The Priest took a heavy stone staff crafted from a stalactite and slapped it hard on the stalagmite podium, releasing a loud *CRACK* through the alcove. I could not believe my eyes but I swear that dozens of Ravens appeared from the walls and started circling the alcove. Kertigen must surely be on our side this day!

Taking advantage of all the commotion I made my way to the opening of the alcove. On my hands and knees, I peered over the ledge into the main cavern. The height seemed dizzyingly higher than usual. What I saw froze me to the rocks. I saw the dwarves of our mining clan hard at battle with many rock trolls. There were what must have been hundreds of dead trolls littering the floor mingled with the dead and wounded of my kin. Blood flowed down the low cracks of the cavern disappearing into the dark shadows. The noise of battle and the smell of death was overwhelming. I frantically searched for my Father and Mother to no avail. The women who left the alcove seemed to be down in the cavern fighting tooth and nail along side the warriors and miners.

I heard from behind me in the alcove another loud *CRACK* and the Ravens that were circling the alcove flew out into the cavern below. My heart pounded faster and harder. Surely the Priest had gained for us the favor of Kertigen. The ravens obscured my sight of the battle for some time. When the ravens cleared out into the shadows, the battle was over. All of the trolls were dead!

I cheered wildly, praising Kertigen over and over. Then suddenly I was grabbed from behind and snatched back into the alcove. The Elder Priest scolded me for being such an undisciplined child, then gave me a sparkly wink. He stood, instructed us to remain in the alcove, and exited the alcove into the main cavern to help with the fallen. I still felt the fire in my belly and the peace the draught gave me, we all did, none of the children were crying.

Soon some of the women returned to look after us, some of them wounded. I asked one of them of my Mother and Father. She said to me that my Mother was fine and was helping with the wounded, she knew not of my Father. I nodded and joined the group of children at the wall. I made myself really small and hugged the wall and shadows until I was at the opening again. With one last look behind me to see if I had been noticed, I scrambled down into the cavern.

I saw my Mother in the distance kneeling over an unmoving Dwarven Warrior. I resisted the urge to run to her and continued to search for my Father. I threaded my way between troll bodies and weapons on the ground, awestruck at the carnage all around me. Finally I saw my Father on the ground, unmoving, surrounded by the Elder priest and two younger priests. I ran to him screaming "Father! Father!"

One of the younger priests scooped me up before I could make it to him and held me still. He said to me "Courage, young Lagerby". Through the blurry lens of my tears I watched the priests pray and gesture at my Father surrounding him with a silvery corona. I prayed and prayed, pleading for Kertigen to bring my Father back. The Elder Priest, already exhausted and showing his years, raised his arms upward, made one final plea, "Kertigen we beseech thee!" He collapsed into the arms of one of the younger priest's arms. My Father gasped and coughed. He was alive! I knew then and since that I would too be a priest.

Later that night, my father sat me down, and told me not to tell any of my siblings of what I had seen. He then told the tale of the battle to all of us children. It was a glorious story, yet there was no mention of dying; and I immediately understood that he did not want to worry us unnecessarily.

Looking back on it, the draught the Elder Priest made may have been nothing more than rum and bourbon, giving us children a little false courage. The ravens may have been a small drunken Dwarf child's twisted vision of mere bats. But the experience was etched into my young mind and still resides as the marker of the day my childhood ended, and a guiding light by which my future would be navigated.