Chapter Thirty-One - Those Who Saw the Future and Wept

“We aren’t the only ones to blame,” Bertrand said. “But we, and our ancestors, bear some of that guilt. It is therefore only natural that we do our part to fix things.”

I was sitting on the ground, a stone by my back and one of the dwarf’s--Bertrand was his name, as it turned out. He announced it to us between enthusiastic rants, without ever asking for our names in return--braver dogs right next to me. I’d tossed the mutt a chunk of steak and that somehow made me the dog’s best friend. I idly rubbed at its head while Bertrand spoke.

“When we opened the great gates of the last city of Emberbar and saw what had become of the world above, we were devastated. In that moment, there was a great shift, and some of us became determined to fix what we had broken.”

“I’ve heard that story,” Clin said. “We have dwarves who visit Redfer sometimes. I’ve seen some cross the Drywall too, to consult and to help with engineering issues or for trade. Those that were alive when the gates open always talk about it with reverence.”

“I was there,” Bertrand said. He was sitting on a rock of his own, hands fiddling with a pipe that he was stuffing full of smokeweed. “We thought... oh, I don’t truly know. I was still just a lad then, carried with the others in the excitement of seeing the world once more. There are rumours that us mountain folk are happy living under the ground our entire lives, but that’s not the truth.”

“Didn’t you remain buried for nearly a century?” Clin asked.

“Oh yes, and what a dreadful time that was. The vaults and caverns we lived in were never made to last as long as they did. We were running out of food, out of air, and by the time I was born, we were beginning to suffer. Emberbar’s great cooling system began to fail, some materials were plainly missing to repair and keep our great factories working. Some of the weaker and older ones began to fall to sicknesses that spread in our tight confines. It was a desperate time.”

I nodded along. I’d heard the story before. The plight of the dwarves.

“And so we opened the great gate. It was a miraculous moment. The door opening after ninety-nine years and a hundred nights. We were gathered there, some thirty-thousand of us crammed into the entrance to see trees and grass and open skies once more. Instead we saw the world as it is now. A desert, stripped of all life, barren. There were no birds and few critters, and the air stank of staleness.”

“Rough times,” I said. That was probably when my grandparents were about my age. A few generations back, at least.

“Some of us couldn’t take it,” Bertrand said. “We’re a learned sort, us dwarves. We make sure our young know their numbers and their history and their sciences. We knew why the world was the way it was. It was, at least in part, our fault. We had, by our own hand, stripped away our own salvation!”

The dwarf was getting excited now, speaking with fire and zeal, and that spread to his dogs. The mutt next to me started to drum the ground with its tail, whipping at the grass and sand in time with the others.

“And so, some of us decided to rebuild our former glory. Others decided that we ought to return to the safety provided by the bosom of the earth. And others, my humble self included, we wished to see the green that the world had lost! We set out into the barren world. Ancient seeds in hand, what little water we had ready to be sacrificed, and we began to regreenify the world!”

“Still got a ways to go, huh?” I asked.

Bertrand paused, then sat back down and struck a match to light his pipe. “Yes, we do,” he said. “We didn’t think all that well in those early days. We had plenty of hope, but not enough wits. We thought that it would be the work of a century at most to undo the damage of a few years, but no, it will be some time. These new storms are volatile and cruel, and yet they’ve brought a new balance to the world.”

Clin gestured to the sled. “What’s that device? It looks like it’s made of glass.”

“Device?” the dwarf asked. “Ah, what’s poking from the sled. No, that’s no device. It’s a chunk of storm glass.”

“Storm glass,” Clin repeated. “That’s what happens when lightning strikes the sand? It super-heats it and turns to glass?”

“You’ve heard of it, then?”

The elf shook his head. “No, but I’m not entirely uneducated,” Clin replied. “What’s it for?”

“For one, leaving it out allows it to be broken up by the wind and it turns into glass-dust. Mighty dangerous. For another, it’s useful stuff. You can melt it down into sheets of course, but the greatest use is as materials to make resistors. We’re draining the storms of their might, one lightning bolt at a time.”

“Any luck so far?” I asked.

“In the last half-decade alone we’ve noticed a half-percentage drop in the magical power of the average bolt. We’d like to think that our capacitors are holding a great deal of that power sealed away from the storms.”

“Best of luck,” I said.

The dwarf nodded. “Thank you. Now, where are you folk travelling to? That looks like a hunter’s mech if I ever saw one. Older human model, though that arm there's a dwarven one, I’d bet my beard on it.”

I laughed. “We’re heading east, following the storm a little. Any trouble out that way? Any bounties open?”

“Lots of goblins,” Bertrand said. “Lots more than usual. They took some pot shots at me the day before last when I was a ways south of Daggerwren. Don’t know if there’s a bounty out yet, but there ought to be. They like attacking our installations and camps. Ruined an entire water purification facility near the Fast Depths a few years back. We’re a peaceful sort, you know, not keen on killing things, but our mission to restore this world to its former beauty takes precedent over the lives of a few goblins.”

“That’s fair,” I said. “Maybe we’ll pick a mission up in the Flatbluffs.” I sighed and looked up. The stars were bright through the sparse canopy of leaves above, and the night was growing cooler. My back, facing away from the fire as it was, was getting to be a little too cool. “I think I’m going to call it a night,” I said as I stood.

The dog next to me grumbled as I rose.

Clin yawned. “I can stay up a while longer.”

“Aye then, you stay up for a bit. I’ll get a candle and mark it in thirds. Wake me up for middle watch, and mister pilot there can take the last watch.”

I’d have to tell him my name at some point, but I suppose he’d assumed I was a man despite it. “It’s miss pilot,” I said.

“Mah? Well, if you say so!” Bertrand said as he got up and waddled over to his sled. “The dogs will put up their own watch. If you hear them barking, something’s up.”

“Got it,” I said.

I climbed back into Rusty, stashed away our bowls and utensils after rubbing them clean on my pant leg, then I found some blankets. I moved Rusty’s arms up, hands cupped to sleep in, then came back down and tossed one of the blankets to Clin.

“We’re sleeping in the mech’s hands again?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“Can’t we sleep on the ground? It’s a good deal softer.”

“Nope if you’re intent on waking up,” I said.

“It’s one of those strange quirks of the world after the great disaster,” Bertrand said. “All sorts of creatures have begun to adapt to this environment already. Deserts weren’t unknown though, and some creatures from those deserts have spread across nearly the entire world. It’s impressive how quickly they resettled. We suspect that the storms have something to do with it, carrying specimens up and depositing them further away.”

“Right,” I said. “There are worms in the sand, They’ll sense your body heat, then climb out of the sand right under you. You’ll feel the bite, and if you’re fast enough, you can yank them out.”

I couldn’t quite tell with just the firelight to see by, but I had the impression that Clin blanched.

“And if you’re not fast enough?”

“Then you’d best hope you have a friend that’s good with a knife.”

“I’ll sleep on Rusty,” he said.

Snorting, I tossed him a blanket. “Didn’t even mention the scorpions. Come on, we’ll need our sleep. Good night Bertrand.”

“And good night to you too,” he said.

***