Cornerstone (book)

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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.