Hoarded Destiny

This is something of an experiment and if you are reading this, I would very much like your help. All my other work here on the site is of a more adult, explicit nature. But there is this category for non-Erotic writing, and I happen to be a writer of Fantasy stories as well. (Yes, I realize that my other stories are definitely fantasies, but I mean more of the sword and sorcery, Piers Anthony or Robert Aspirin fantasies. What I'm hoping for is honest feedback. Do you read non-erotic stories? Did you like this one? Do you want more?

I don't really know if I will write more in this vein, at least for this site, but who knows? If there is enough interest and clamor for it...we shall see. Meanwhile, sit back, relax and enjoy "Hoarded Destiny" (Just think of this as the preface to a far longer tale!)

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The Dwarf trudged through the snow. He was not unused to the mountainous clime, but this had been a particularly hard Winter. The snowfall had been much heavier than in past years and as such, the depth of snow that he was forced to break ground through was more than he had originally bargained for. Even with his heavy pickaxe to carve a path up the mountain and through the snow, he found himself moving through a deep trench of his own making, the top of which often rose several feet above his own height.

Daylight was a precious commodity in these mountains, and he had just about used up the day's allotment. Shadows ran down the steep slopes and rugged crags and here in his own defile, it was almost night-dark already, but he stubbornly went on. He knew he was close to his destination, and he didn't fancy another night in a self-made ice cave. His Dwarven eyesight showed him the path ahead, differentiating the cold of the night and shadows from that of the snow and rock, so while not as good as a brightly lit road, he was able to keep moving forward and stay on track.

Tunneling through the frozen ground cover, his pick struck a jagged rise of stone directly in his path. The sound rang out in the relatively undisturbed silence of the mountains and sent shockwaves through his arms. Snow crumbled off the edge of his trench and rewarded him with a shower of cold, wet ice. He cursed at the mini-avalanche and was forced to spend a few precious minutes digging his way out. The stone that blocked his path now provided him with an unexpected benefit. Once free of the snowfall that had almost covered him, he was able to use the stone as a kind of stairway to clamber up and raise himself out of the frozen hollow he had been making for himself.

Standing now mostly above the snow, he was able to get a good look around. At this elevation, there were no trees or any sort of natural growth but there was plenty of snow-covered mountain side. Huge mounds of snow and deep ravines scattered around him in all directions, the quickly fading sunlight giving the landscape a black and golden red cast, making it almost seem like molten gold.

He stood there for a few minutes, in silent awe of the supreme majesty that was the mountain. His kind were not unfamiliar with terrain like this, however even the Dwarves rarely reached these rocky altitudes. If he didn't know better, he might have thought that he was the first of his kind to lay eyes on these majestic heights.

Sunlight was now almost completely gone and any miniscule warmth it gave was fading even more rapidly. With no sign of his destination, the Dwarf heaved a great sigh, resigned to the fact that he might very well be forced to spend another night on the mountain slopes.

He took a few tentative steps forward, along the ridge of the stone he stood upon. Taking one more look upslope and around him, he prepared to climb back down the rock and into his handmade canyon. He could use the solidity of the stone as support and dig out enough of a shelter around it to keep himself safe and warm for the long night ahead. Well, comparatively warm anyway.

Then, just as he began to turn back, a deeper swath of darkness caught his eye ahead of him by several hundred yards. To almost anyone else, it might have gone unnoticed, but his keen senses allowed him to see the vague temperature difference and depth of darkness between the night shrouded mountain and what must surely be a cave opening.

All thought of hunkering down for the night was immediately banished. He adjusted the straps on his backpack and, pickaxe in hand, began to make for the cave opening. Although only a scant few hundred yards distance it was all uphill and again, through the deepest part of the snow that covered the mountain. The way was not easy but the thought of his goal so close gave power and determination to his body and he carved his way up and forward.

It took just over an hour to gain that short distance, but at last he stood at the cave opening he had seen. It was a great and irregular opening, looking more like something that had occurred when the mountain might have shaken itself in a bygone age, as opposed to some of the great Dwarven caverns his kind were renowned for. Perhaps sixty to seventy feet in height, it stretched only about twenty or so feet wide and even to his exceptional sight, the interior was a miasma of impenetrable dark. But he was not deterred, he had come prepared.

Shrugging off his backpack, he set it down and opened the flap, rummaging around in its interior till he found what he needed. It was a small Dwarven lamp. Not much more than a metal bottom about four inches across and a heavy lead crystal globe about twice that in diameter. It was capped with another molded metal top and small struts ran from top to bottom. There was a thin wrought iron loop for a handle. The top cap also had a small hatch in it, about two inches across.

He lifted the hatch; it was attached by a finely made set of small hinges. Once open, he fumbled for his waterskin and poured about three fingers of water into the lead crystal globe.

Then, going again to his pack, he fished out a small cube of stone. It was about an inch to a side but weighed more like something twice as big and dense. It had a golden and grey color to it and small metallic blue flecks throughout.

Carefully, he took the stone cube and dropped it into the globe. It splashed into the shallow pool of water and sat there, then it began to glow. The water around it bubbled slightly, like water getting ready to boil, though no heat came from it. The stone continued to glow, its shine increasing till after only a minute or so. It was giving off as much light as a torch would, but without the heat or smoke. He watched it for a moment, and then satisfied, he refastened the flap of his pack, hoisted it back to his shoulders and holding the lantern up, began to slowly walk into the cave.

Once beyond the opening, the walls and ceilings narrowed some but then stayed relatively uniform at about fifteen feet wide and still at least forty or so feet in height. As he walked deeper into the mountain, he was aware that the tunnel had a slight downward slope to it, shallow but still noticeable. Now inside the mountain, he felt much more at home. This was terrain he was used to, as were all Dwarves he acknowledged to himself. Keeping a trained and weathered eye on the dimly lit passage ahead he continued on.

After what must have been at least a half mile, he came to a branching of the tunnel. The two courses were almost forty-five degrees apart from one another. He stopped there and raised the lantern a little higher, moving a few feet towards one tunnel and then over to the other. He looked carefully at the tunnel floor for any signs of use in either of them. Finding nothing noteworthy about either tunnel he stood for a moment, pondering his choices. Then, he set the lantern down and moved to the wall of the right tunnel. Choking up on the haft of his pickaxe, he carefully and methodically chiseled his initials into the stone wall.

The rock was very hard, and he was forced to use quite a bit more strength than he expected to, as if the mountain itself was trying to rebuff any efforts to mark it.

At last, satisfied, he picked up the lantern and began making his way down the right-hand passage. Almost immediately the way began to slope downward even more steeply. Cautiously he continued on. Twice more over the next two hours he encountered forks in the passageway, and once, a branching of three tunnels. Each time he chose a path, he carefully marked it with his initials and each time, he felt it was more difficult than the time before. And always, the tunnels wound downward and deeper into the mountain.

Before long, he began to see puffs of steam from his breath as he made his way. This confused him somewhat. Admittedly it was winter, and the mountain had been snow and ice covered, but as he delved deeper into the mountain's interior, it should be gaining a little warmth, not finding it colder still. But even this small mystery was not enough to deter him. He was certain that he was nearing his goal and that fueled his determination to carry on.

Further down and deeper he walked, the uniformity of the passageways began to change. He found himself moving through tunnels that narrowed to perhaps ten feet wide and no more than fifteen feet high or broke open into huge arching caves a hundred feet or more across and rose beyond the limits of even his vision. Once he had to stop and replace the stone in his lantern. They had a continuous lifespan of about five to six hours and so lost in the wonder of this place and the excitement at nearing his goal that he was surprised when the stone began to dim. He hadn't realized how long he had been travelling.

With his light renewed, he continued onward. Once, he found the passage he chose to be blocked by what looked like an ancient rockfall and he was forced to retrace his steps to the last intersection. Taking care to chisel over his initials and mark again in the new passage he went on.

Finally, even his stubbornness and dwarven endurance began to flag. He had seen no sign of creature or being since entering the mountain and although he still believed he was on the right track; he had no way to tell how close he was as he wound his way through the mazes of tunnels and caves the mountain continuously put in his way. He found a small cave just off of the tunnel he had been following and decided to stop here and rest.

He laid out his bedroll and ate sparingly of his remaining rations. He removed the stone from his lantern and chiseled a small hole in the floor of the cave where he took one of his few torches and stuck it there, lighting it with flint and tinder. Using the torch flame for a small amount of warmth as well as light, he laid down and was soon fast asleep.

He awoke in total darkness, but his eyes were able to just pick out the nearly faded heat from the stump of the torch. He felt around carefully for the lantern stone and placed it back inside his lantern. Immediately it began to shine and soon, he had enough light to see his surroundings. Refreshed by his rest, he once again began to walk.

He had no idea how far he still had to go but he was determined that today he would reach his goal. He walked on, tunnels and caves constantly changing but always downward, and now, very definitely getting colder. After several hours, he had lost count of how many times he had cut his initials into the cave walls, he found he was shivering. He pulled out an extra cloak from his pack and put it on and continued to make his way.

At last, he found himself in a tunnel barely twice his own height and width. He moved cautiously now as he had a feeling deep in his gut that he was nearing...something. He walked on for several hundred feet in this narrow channel.

Then, almost without warning it broke into a huge cave, the floor dropping away at the very edge of his small tunnel and his light unable to illuminate even a third of what lay before him.

He raised the lantern and swung it slowly back and forth trying to see whatever he could in the huge cavern. The floor spread out, some twenty or thirty feet below him. It was rough and cracked, as if it had begun to buckle over thousands of years, to pressures too immense to hold back. And there, at the edge of his vision, he saw it. A small gleam of gold. Something scattered on the floor almost haphazardly, catching and reflecting the light from his lantern.

Excitement leapt within him. This had to be it. Looking down, he saw that it was not a sheer drop, but a very steep slope down to the cavern's floor. Too steep to attempt to slide down. He might break something. But he was prepared for this as well. Reaching again into his pack, he pulled out a long coil of rope as well as a three-pronged grappling hook. Then taking up his pickaxe, he began to chip and chisel a deep cut into the tunnel floor. It took every ounce of strength and stonecraft he had as the rock here nearly rebuffed his efforts, but at last he had it.

Wedging one of the prongs of his grapple into the cut, he laid out the rope and dropped it over the edge, into the cavern. Then taking a hold of it, he carefully tested it to assure himself that it was secure and began a carefully controlled slide down the slope and into the cave.

Once he reached the bottom, he left the rope where it was, ready for his exit when he needed it, and began to move deeper into the mysterious cavern. Soon he could see what the golden gleam had been. It was actually gold. Dozens of gold coins to be precise. They were scattered across the floor as if spilled from a large chest. As he moved closer, he could see the gold continued, piling up in mounds some places and swept out across the floor in others.

Mixed in with these coins, he saw a variety of objects. A golden goblet, a jewel encrusted scepter, a steel breastplate from an ornate suit of armor, a lance, red and white striped, at least a dozen feet long and more still. Plates and half buried chests. Flagons of pewter, bronze and silver. He saw at least two different swords, one long and slender with a faint curve to it. The other wide and heavy, looking barbaric in its two-handed design.

All of this along with ever increasing piles of gold and silver coins, running back deeper into the cavern and growing ever larger. His eyes took it all in, but it wasn't the coins or the jewels or even the swords and armor he sought. He waded deeper and deeper into the cavern, winding his way past half a dozen stalagmites, carefully maneuvering over cracked and upheaved stone flooring, threading his way amongst the veritable hills of golden treasure piled up and spilled out around him.

Then, at last, he saw it. What he had come all this way to find. Half buried under an expansive pile of gold coins and raw uncut gems, surrounded by several full and half suits of armor, some in immaculate condition and others bent and broken as if crushed under some enormous weight, was the tip of a great anvil.

From what he could see of it, the anvil had to be a minimum of a dozen feet in length. He couldn't tell its height without uncovering it more. He quickly ran forward, slipping and sliding over the coins and various trinkets that were between him and his goal. As he neared the great anvil, he could see runes and Dwarvish lettering carved into the very iron of its being. This was definitely what he had come so far to find.

He waded through a large pile of coins, shoving them aside to make his way to the anvil. At last, he reached a position where he could reach his hand out and touch its tip. Hesitantly, reverently, he reached out.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a huge pile of treasure being shoved aside. It clattered and clanged and pounded in an avalanche of sound. The dwarf jumped and looked around, even as a huge black shadow fell over him. The temperature dropped immediately by two dozen degrees at least. The Dwarf was instantly chilled to his very bones. Shuddering he looked around wildly. And there, cresting the largest of the treasure piles, was a huge, scaled neck and head.

It easily dwarfed the treasure pile by a few dozen feet. Even in the cold and dark of the shadows, he could see the scales were a deep chilling grey white. The head at the end of the neck was even larger. It was easily double the size of the largest horse he had ever seen. Its eyes glittered a deep frost white with a scintillating pinprick of ice blue at their center.

Its Stared down at the Dwarf, its alien gaze unreadable. He could see behind the neck and the sliding mound of treasure the shadow of wings majestically unfolding. Then, as it stared at him, it opened its great maw, dual rows of huge teeth gleamed, a long-forked tongue lolled out, flicking back and forth. Then the Dwarf heard a great resounding rush of air, as if the huge bellows of an ancient forge began to pump in earnest. Frost and ice began to rime the teeth of the great wyrm.

"Oh...Fuck." The Dwarf said, as the full force of a thousand winters descended upon him.