Derek Prior - Ravine of Blood and Shadow

TABLE OF CONTENTS

A babe is born in the shadows of the ravine city, a child who will end the self-imposed exile of the dwarves and usher in a new age of glory.

Years later, Ravine Guard Carnac Thayn discovers a break-in at the Scriptorium. A dwarf has been murdered and a book stolen, but the ruling Council of Twelve do nothing.

Then, when Carn is called to investigate thuds and crashes from the mines, old horror rises from the deep, and the city is threatened with slaughter.

Rumors begin to circulate about a mythical axe said to be lost below the earth, an axe wielded by the dwarf lords of old that might just be the last hope of a race marked to die.

But deception is rife, and unseen forces manipulate all paths to the future.

It is a pivotal moment for the dwarves, and Carn must make a choice that will either save or damn his people.

Blood will flow in rivers through the ravine. Friends will become foes. A name will be forgotten.

And a hero will rise.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

RAVINE OF BLOOD AND SHADOW. Copyright 2019 by D.P. Prior. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

RAVINE OF BLOOD AND SHADOW was originally published in a substantially different form as CARNIFEX: A PORTENT OF BLOOD and was also included as part of the box-set LEGENDS OF THE NAMELESS DWARF: THE COMPLETE SAGA.

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PROLOGUE

M oonlight splashed the walls of the ravine that housed the dwarven city of Arx Gravis. Lightning flashed, illuminating the great central tower that rose from the depths and the interconnecting walkways and plazas that surrounded it.

In his granite home deep down in the ravine, Droom Thayn jumped at each muffled clap of thunder, and the thick hairs on his arms stood on end. For the hundredth time he glanced at the window, imagining a grey face pressed up against the glass, pebble eyes staring. The face of a faen. Because one of the underworld tricksters had visited him long ago and told him he would have two sons. Told him his sons would usher in a new era of greatness for the dwarves. Told him what to name them. He didnt like it, but what could he do? Deny the faen, the old folk said, and they would curse you. A niggling worry at the back of Drooms mind wondered if they already had.

He forced a reassuring smile for his firstborn, Lukar, but it went unnoticed. The boy had his head in a book as usual, determined to learn his letters. So unlike his father. Maybe the second-born would be different.

Thunder boomed again, but this time Droom was ready and barely even flinched. In previous years he would go up to the top of the ravine to watch the storm. It was a risky business, and hed almost been struck by lightning on more than one occasion, but it always left him feeling more alive.

As a young man, Droom had clung to the hope that there was more to life than the humdrum work of mining. Then he had been blessed with Yalla, the only woman foolish enough to marry him. And whats more, she was descended from the Exalted, the ancient heroes of the dwarves.

Suddenly, doors were opened to Droom, and he was offered an apprenticeship as an architect. Within a few short years he was adding to the structures of the city, designing and overseeing the building of aqueducts and walkways, flying buttresses and battlements, all cunningly blended with the natural lay of the ravine.

He smiled at the memories, but it did nothing to allay his mounting anxiety. As the storm rolled in from the north, Yalla had gone into labor. He couldnt help thinking it was an omen.

Droom raked his fingers through his beard, twisting strands into braids. It was no secret how many womenand their babiesperished during childbirth.

The doctors voice from within the bedroom door sounded suddenly shrill with panic.

Droom hurried toward the door, but it opened before he got there. The midwife beckoned him inside, where it stank like a latrine, but Droom did his best not to show it.

Doctor Sedloam turned away from the bed to face hima wiry man for a dwarf, lank beard, just the one eye, from where the other had been ruined by a red-hot splinter when hed worked the forges in his youth. Blood speckled the front of his apron. Droom had wanted Doctor Moary, the man whod delivered him into the world, but Moary had given up medicine for a seat on the Council of Twelve, who had governed Arx Gravis since the last dwarven king, Arios, sunk beneath the waves, along with the city of Arnoch he ruled from.

Yalla lay on the bed, atop the rumpled sheets. Crimson stained her thighs. Her hair was slick with sweat. It was a shock to Droom how wasted she looked. When her waters had broken, shed been glowing with health.

What have you done to her? he demanded.

The doctor dismissed the question with an impatient wave. I need you to tell me who to save: your wife or the child?

Its not his choice! Yalla said, raising her head from the pillow. You hear me, Droom? You do as I say.

Droom met her eyes, saw the fire in them, a blaze of fury that was even now starting to fade. He shoved the doctor aside and leaned over the bed.

Lass, I cant

Yalla forced a smile, touched his hand with her fingertips. Youre stronger than you know, husband. Dont let me lose the baby.

Tears welled in Drooms eyes, blurred his vision, rolled down his cheeks.

Yalla gripped his hand, wincing at some unimaginable pain. Youll be all right, she said, voice barely a whisper.

Droom pressed his ear to her mouth the better to hear. Her breath felt cold.

Remember she gasped, when we wed?

Droom shook his head, already pulling away.

She gripped his wrist, firm, unbreakable, like the Yalla of old. You swore to obey

Footsteps from behind distracted Droom.

I have to act now, Doctor Sedloam said.

Drooms innards turned to ice. He looked back at his wife, at the dying spark in her eyes. She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Speaking with a mouthful of gravel, Droom said, The child.

The doctor squeezed his shoulder. Im sorry, Droom. Truly I am. Now stand aside.

A scalpel glinted in the doctors hand.

Not you, Yalla rasped. She flicked her eyes at Droom. My sword, husband. Use it.

It was hanging from the head of the bed. Droom drew the blade, with one glance taking in every battle-carved chink, the frayed leather grip, the tarnished pommel.

Ill help you, Sedloam said. Make the incision here.

With a groan of anguish, Droom shut his eyes and plunged the blade in. Yalla grunted. Hot wetness splashed Drooms face. He felt the doctors pressure on his wrist, guiding the cut. A violent tremor ran through Drooms body. He opened his mouth in a scream that wouldnt come.

Enough, Sedloam said, pulling the sword from Drooms grasp. Reach inside. Grab the child.

Droom opened his eyes onto bloody horror. He touched shaking fingers to the gash hed made in his wifes belly, squirmed as he thrust them inside.