| |
Antarctica, 1301.
“There it is,” Magnus said. “Out there in the distance.”
Kain stirred, but enviably he could not see anything; he was tied and being dragged, after all.
“Place him here,” the dwarf then said. “Carefully! Remember—not a single hair to be damaged upon his head...”
The goblins did what they were told and placed Kain carefully down onto the ground made of ice. The two demons then began to squawk and growl towards each other. It seemed to them that they thought their job was complete, and now they could socialize with each other. With one hard kick to the chest to one of them from the dwarf, they’d gotten the picture immediately; they were not done working until, he’d said they were done. Kain saw this and watched from his inverted angle as the goblin twins scurried away. He heard them mumble to themselves, most likely cursing the dwarf under their breath. As they left, Kain saw the markings of sigil branded upon each of the goblin’s right-bare foot. It looked like a cross emblazoned within a blacksmith's hammer.
“Get on and do whatcha told!” the dwarf called out, as they hurried away. “Or I’ll be throwing you both inside boxes of your own!”
“A box?” Kain said out loud, but Magnus pretended not to hear him. “What do you mean a box?”
“Ya idiots...” the dwarf roared. “Grab the pickaxe or the shovel from ya deceased brother there, and continued where he’d left off. The poor sap couldn’t fathom the cold—the arctic air did not suit him well, after dragging the casket all the way from Jerusalem...”
Magnus then looked down towards Kain. The glare that came from the dwarf looked hardened, but against the reflection of his sapphire, blue eyes, the crusader could see the glimpse of tears being held back. Magnus was never made to show sadness, this display of unabashed and calculated betrayal proved that. You would almost expect that the dwarf himself was waiting to be thrown inside the box.
“I’m sorry, friend,” he said again. “If there was some other way—any other way, I would have taken the chance to preserve our friendship.”
Kain said nothing.
“Don’t be trying to change my mind either,” the dwarf continued. “I wouldn’t hear a lick of what you need to say. This needs to be done.”
Kain had then taken in a deep breath of frozen air. It felt harsh, and yet, completely refreshing as it made its way through his lungs. In all honesty, what more could be said about was going to happen. He understood then that there was no turning back from where he was about to go, and agreed that acceptance was the only option.
“If there is a casket with my name on it,” Kain finally replied. “At least turn me around so I can see what sort of cruel fate awaits me.”
Magnus looked up, supposedly into the direction of the goblins were facing. Kain began to hear the violently smashing of iron hitting against ice. Whatever the goblins were doing, they were struggling in doing so.
“Are you sure then, lad?” Magnus asked. “If I’m being honest, this wouldn’t be a sight I would like to look upon if I were you.”
Kain nodded his head, the best he could. The dwarf, seeing this, shook his head and let out a long sigh.
“Then you be a much stronger man than me, Faustus Kain.” he said, placing his custom blunderbuss onto the frozen ground, and away from Kain. He then grabbed the crusader by the side of the wrapped chains, and swung him carefully around, so he’d see what Magnus had prepared for him.
It stood a short distance away, but far enough so that some of the view was distorted by the wind blowing large tufts of snow from one end to another. Kain, despite this, saw all this rather clearly still. It was a large, dark oaken box that awaited him in the distance; beautifully cut, constructed and fashioned into a coffin made for his size. Upon each side, from what he could see, the casket had large iron loops. Kain could only guess these were for the chains to be placed upon and tightened; probably locked as well. It was then he saw the goblins; both with pickaxes and shovels, alternating their motions as to destroy the large bed of ice that stood below them. Kain then saw the rigid corpse of what seemed to another, single, dead goblin. Upon his forehead was another branded sigil, the same as the ones that stood on the feet of the two banging away at the ice.
“I’ve seen worse...” Kain then said from where he laid.
Magnus released an unexpected hearty-laugh from deep within his gullet. It sounded like he needed this moment of relief now more than ever.
“You’ve always had a way of saying the right things at the right moment, lad.” the dwarf replied, and stroked his slowly greying, auburn beard. “I promise you,” he continued. “Actually, I promise you two things,” Kain then saw the dwarf look away and towards the goblins, his gaze staying away from his entirely. As he spoke he retrieved his blunderbuss and slung-it back over his shoulder. “I promise you that I’ll come back and retrieve you when the time is right,” Kain saw a slow tear roll down the massive dwarf’s cheek then. “And,” the dwarf proceeded. “And I'll do right by you when we meet after that. I’ll give you a debt for myself to gladly repay. Anything you’ll be needing, I'll supply it.”
Kain thought this over, but knew that his own personal silence was doing more harm than good to the situation, so he decided to answer the dwarf.
“I understand.” Kain replied.
Magnus looked away then. He had begun to silently, but profusely cry like a child. Snot ran down his beard, he quickly cleaned his face, and hair before Kain could see. But Kain saw, there were very few things that could ever get past him. Kain, in turn, nodded his head; understanding that a dwarf was good by his word—even when the word he stood by lead them into dangerous territory. The crusader looked again at the ring upon the dwarf’s stubby fingers. Magnus noticed Kain noticing the ring, and held it out for him to see more clearly.
“Nice ring...” Kain said. “...can you get me one of those?”
“Ha!” the dwarf said. “This ring is a special kind of iron; no merchant of any kind sells the likes of these, lad. What it does is render helpless the likes of goblins, nymphs, trolls and certain giants—the woodland kind. It makes them all terribly weak in the knees. The creature is then forced to do what I say or the mark placed upon them shall burn ten-fold; from the inside out.”
Kain looked at the ring then again, and felt a tinge of uncertainty upon it.
“I’m sorry,” Kain then replied. “But I'm not much for the slave and master business, friend—no less the burning of a mark to remain permanent.”
“Now do be jumping to conclusions,” the dwarf said. “I don’t plan to have an army of them creatures at my disposal, ya see. But they do come in handy and most importantly, it gets these disgusting creatures out of harm’s way for the rest of us. In a sense, getting back at what was done to me, from creatures like them. Inadvertently, they are likely associated with them—we just don’t know it yet.”
“You seem paranoid.”
“I'm not. I’m just being careful, that’s all. You can understand that. If you spent as much time in hell as I did, you’d do the same.”
“I can understand that. There’s only one thing,” Kain asked. “What’s with the mark placed upon the ring? It doesn’t seem stable.”
The dwarf looked down at the ring, cautiously.
“This?” he said pointing at the sigil engraved upon it.
“Yes that.” Kain replied. “It doesn’t look “too heavenly” to me? Possibly something from h—”
“Don’t say it. You’re on thin-ice as it is. The sigil of my own making—perfectly fine, I assure you.”
“Where did you first see it?” Kain asked casually.
The dwarf hesitated, but after a moment spoke candidly about the whole thing.
“It is both the sign from which they kept my people back in Hell to work for the end of their days, but it is also tweaked slightly to cause power on my end of the bargain. It is more dwarven—ancient dwarven than anything. I’ve told you that the ancient dwarves, my forefathers were rogue children of fallen angels and humans—the ones that didn’t turn into giants, that is. Now that you understand my history, you should know that I take little tolerance towards any sympathizers that support the enslavement of dwarfs in the boils of Hell. For what I’m doing with this ring, it is a good thing. Keep them all in check. ”
“Until someone else figures the best way to use this and other metals to their advantage, that is?” replied Kain.
Magnus said nothing. He looked away from his friend then. Kain realized that he’d most likely said the wrong thing—which sounded about right, it always seemed that he often did. He’d always try hard to do and say the right thing, but it seemed never to work in his favor; one day, hopefully not soon (or whenever he gets out of this forsaken box), he’s going to give up entirely on being other that himself—say f**k it to the world and all that's come before it. Kain looked again at Magnus then. Still tied—bound with steel from his hands to his feet, and somehow felt that he was the one that needed to apologise.
“Listen,” the dwarf began. “This will be a long time coming, you see. I figured that a bargain or not, deal or no deal, if the devil has me under his grip and this be the last straw, I'd start making deals of my own with his people...not that he’ll rightfully care anyways. If I dispose of them, I’d likely be doing them a favor, anyways. It helps me sleep at night, the same as the way you hunt monsters—human or otherwise. Do you understand me?”