The Gem of Zyenar

By D.R. Hawker

A city of dwarves have lived in Ironhold Mountain for centuries. When tragedy visits their city, it's up to one dwarf to find the missing gem and return it back to the mountain to save everyone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483533896

Book preview

The

Gem of Zyenar

This book is dedicated to the loving memory of my father, Robert E. Hawker. A wonderful husband, father and grandfather; he was always deeply devoted to his kids and grandkids and everything they were involved with growing up. He took me to my very first Chicago Cubs game when I was just fourteen and helped me build a remote control robot in Cub Scouts. I am dedicating this book, my very first novel to him with the same love and respect that he showed me every day of his life. Dad, this book is for you. I miss you and will always love you.

A novel by: D. R. Hawker

Bookbaby Publishing 2014 ©

All Rights Reserved

http://www.bookbaby.com

Special Thanks go out to the following people who have helped me in one way or another with the writing and/or production of this novel, because without your support, guidance and advice throughout the entire writing process, none of this would have been possible.

Thank you so very much!!

Cynthia Jones; the love of my life!

Connie Bantz (Hawker)

Stephen Hill

Dale Campbell

Bookbaby Publishing

Chapter 1

Ironhold: A dwarf city comes to life

The Ironhold Mountains were tall, majestic and beautiful. Those were only a few words to describe this grand treasure of nature. They were capped by snow with green pine trees dotted across its face. These mountains had become a protector of sorts. They had taken the brunt of storms that threatened the valley while also providing a barrier to those who would try and trespass upon the land far below its peaks. The solid rock that made up this magnificent site has withstood great floods, earthquakes and several realm wars that at times sought to tear a rift in time itself. Inside there was a bustling city carved out by the callused hands of the hundreds of dwarf men working together to make this mountain their home.

There were young dwarves they called dwarflings that would run and play throughout the city, jumping off the rocks and sliding down the stone railings. The sound of clanging metal echoed though the hallways and passageways. Sometimes the dwarf women would get together to test their might against the men. They weren’t actually testing them but instead they were using this as a way to spend time and bond with them. The men would try to put on a show of strength and skill with a blade. This would take place in front of the weapon smith shop where they could always be found hanging out if they weren’t at the tavern.

All of the dwarves had his and her choice of weapon to use in combat. Most of them preferred axes, while the rest chose hammers or swords. Each weapon was hand crafted by its owner and forged from steel then fitted to their specific features and preferences. They would spend extra time on the finer details during the construction of these weapons. This would become the craftsman and craftswoman’s signature, setting it apart from all of the others. Some of them had family crests carved into the handles, while others had the likeness of a dragon they had felled or sacred heirloom that had been in the family for centuries.

The women were quite the craftsman themselves and their weapons seemed to have just as much wear and tear on them as their male counterparts. The quality of the weapons they made was just as tough, rugged and durable as the person who created it. The men and women were both alike in many ways that a lot of times it was hard to tell them apart. Pride and ego were on the line for the men and they knew that the challenge that lay before them would be a great one.

They would use their weapons on stuffed dummies and various targets used in training for combat. They paired up and began squaring off against one another. Neither injury nor death was the purpose of this contest. Both sides were instead focusing on their individual skills with each weapon. The women were showing themselves to be just as tough and determined as the me and they kept up with their training all while taking care of their younglings and keeping a clean home.

The men weren’t going to allow themselves to be out-done by the women. They put forth their best warriors and soldiers who were quite skilled with the blade to show the women what they all were made of. Whatever trick or talent the men came up with, the women matched them step-for-step. At times, the women made it look easy and almost effortless, while the men became frustrated and flustered with each failed attempt. Every time they dropped something or made a mistake, their frustration and anger intensified which caused them to make even more mistakes. The women would giggle and laugh as the men would pick up their dropped weapons and slam them back into the ground.

It was an unwritten rule amongst the women that they were not there to out-do the men, but they also weren’t about to lay down to them and take one on the chin. No, this was a proud bunch of dwarf women who did their fair share of the heavy lifting within the city and in on the field of battle. They wanted to have a little fun with the men and should they come out on top, who are they to argue with that? They hadn’t forgotten their spot in this pecking order, which is to clean up after the guys and take care of most if not all of the household chores. They knew that the men appreciated everything they did for them. This fact was not lost on the women.

For the men, however, this was more about their own pride and reputation than anything else. Under no circumstance could they lose any competition to the women. Their over inflated egos wouldn’t be able to handle such a huge hit and they also wouldn’t hear the end of it until the next time a show of skill would be on display. They took the losses very seriously as if their family legacy would be ruined forever.

The men, having lost yet again, decided to turn to the one thing that they knew that they were better at than the women… drinking! They threw down the last of their weapons in disgust, until the next time of course, and headed over to the Grogs Meade tavern. Jorndog, who was the owner, has been working there for years pouring drinks to drown the patron’s sorrows. He had heard the men coming and began to fill steins of beer so it would be ready when they arrived.

How do they always seem to do that every day? one dwarf asked everyone.

Aye, this is much too embarrassing. It’s as if they’re practicing just to spite us.

Yeah, I agree. They sure keep our wits sharpened. But by Great Hordin’s beard, we can’t keep letting them get the better of us. Can we?

How did we let this happen? Are we becoming soft? a worried murmuring overtakes the men.

Gentlemen, gentlemen, king Fargindar began to say as he rose up to quell the unrest, we cannot look upon the women as better than us. They are our equals. We have fought many a battle with them. They are what make each one of us stronger, not weak or soft. Let us raise our glasses and honor the pride in our hearts for the strong, brave women in our lives!

HERE! HERE!! they all replied clanging their glasses together with the suds spilling all over the floor. Their cheering and loud boisterous conversation filled the bar. They stomped their feet and began to sing one of their old songs from their ancestor’s past. Their voices bellowed out through the door and echoed through the city. Their wives and girlfriends could hear them back at home and just smiled and shook their heads.

Listen to them Agnus, Josslin said to her close friend of nearly twenty years.

I am, she said. They’re brooding and hawing around probably trying to figure out how it is every time we always seem to win.

But don’t you feel sorry for them? Josslin asked.

No, not for one second, Maybrie said. She was another one of the dwarf wives standing there taking blankets and shirts off of the line then folding them and placing them neatly into a basket nestled at their feet. For all of the grief and tomfoolery they pull on us, this is the least we can do to keep things balanced and fair.

I don’t like when Hoorl comes home drunk and in one of his moods, Josslin said. He’s a proud dwarf, much too proud to admit they’ll never win against us. And there are no other dwarves in this realm I would want standing next to me staring down the face of a dragon.

Aye, Winneral agreed. She was petite for a dwarf. She almost looked like a dwarfling, if not for her blond beard that matched the braids in her hair. They are the toughest bunch of misfit dwarves to ever band together.

You girls are all full of meadow muck, an old woman’s voice was heard saying over all of the murmuring and whispers.

What do you want, Devania? Agnus wondered aloud, irritated with her presence.

All of you girls wouldn’t stand a chance out in the realm on your own, Devania said. Those men down there be sloshin’ and drinkin’ their cares away and have by now forgotten that you ever won anything from them.

You speak as if you’re one of them, Devania, Agnus said. What is it that you want?

Oh, I’m not here for anything in particular, she said as she bobbed and weaved in-between the women rustling through each of their clothes baskets and pulling out bottles of booze.

Put that down! Josslin yelled at Devania. That’s enough. You can leave right now ok, if you’re only here to cause trouble.

She knew when they had had enough. Alright, I’ll be on my way now, she said. "But remember this, one day you will need to lean hard on them for support and comfort. Don’t take advantage of their kindness and love too much advantage or all of it could be gone forever.

Back down at Grogs Meade, the guys were on their tenth glasses of ale, arm-in-arm, and shoulder to shoulder singing folk songs. There was a tall pile of empty glass mugs on the bar still dripping leftover suds that Jorndog was trying to clean and fill with more beer. They were drinking faster than he could clean them.

As the other dwarves reveled in celebration and merriment, two elder statesmen of the city pulled themselves away for a moment. They took a seat at a table along the wall near the window. One of them sat down first while the other one nonchalantly looked around the room to see if anyone was watching them, so as not to draw unwanted attention. They sat at the table quietly for a moment each taking turns drinking from their mugs or at times pretending to drink. Their heads were down slightly to try and protect their conversation.

How much longer will the project take? asked the first dwarf.

Not much longer, I suspect. I checked in with the foreman yesterday who assured me the project would be completed on time, replied the second dwarf.

It had better be, the first dwarf said. There is a lot at stake with this endeavor. We must finish before the setting of the fourth moon after Heeds Day.

I will put more pressure on the foreman to speed up his men, replied the second dwarf.

You had better hope that he comes through, the first dwarf warned, because he won’t be the only one to answer for the failure of this project. Your head is on the block for this as well.

I’ll leave right away and report back to you later today when I know more, the second dwarf said.

He then got up from the table having finished the conversation and starts to step away when the first dwarf grabs his arm as he walks by and stops him. He looks up at him from his chair with an unsatisfied look, you had better show me results when you come back or I will kill you where you stand! Do I make myself clear?

Yes sir, very clear, sir. Please, you’re making a scene. We don’t want anyone suspecting anything, the second dwarf said with the hope he’d let go of his arm.

Be gone with you. I have to think of my next move, he said. He released his grip on his arm and the unknown second dwarf briefly rubbed his bicep and walked out of the tavern. The first dwarf stayed back at his table for a while longer gazing out the window while planning what he had to do. He sat there seemingly enjoying his drink all the while thinking that the plan was going almost too smoothly. The person who was controlling everything and funding the entire project had hard, specific instructions and guidelines. They were not about to let a few incompetent dwarves stand in the way of their quest for vengeance.

Unbeknownst to him however, someone had been watching the secret and mysterious conversation. Helkin has had his suspicions for quite a while now of the dwarf still sitting at the table by the window. He had no proof of any misdeeds or witnesses to come forward. Nevertheless, there was something about this particular dwarf that was not along the lines of how a dwarf of stature should be. Something was telling him to be careful of this dwarf. He had seen this dwarf around the city from time to time but thought nothing of him because he would make sure to keep his nose clean. There was just something about him that made the braids in his beard tight ever so slightly.

Helkin turned to his best friend and closest advisor, Ornaaf. He leaned over to him and said, Hey, do you see that old man over there by the window?

Yeah, what’s up with him? asked Ornaaf.

That’s just it, I don’t know what it is, Helkin said. But I want you to keep your eyes open and watch what he does. If there’s anything that is out of the ordinary, do not hesitate to bring it to me. Do not engage them and whatever you do, do NOT let him find out that he’s being followed. I don't want anything to stop them from what they're doing until I know what that might be. Understood?

Aye sir, understood.

Thank you, that’ll be all, Helkin relieved his friend by the wave of his hand and Ornaaf knew what that meant. He waited for the old man to leave while he stayed at the bar. Thirty minutes later, the old man got up, flipped a coin on the table for the drinks and then left the tavern. Ornaaf looked at Helkin who gave him a nod signaling he was to begin trailing the old man.

Hey Jorndog, Helkin said to the bartender, who was that old man? Do you know him?

I do not know his name, Jorndog said. He’s been here a number of times and never leaves any tips. I’d like to throw him out but he pays for everything he orders, so I can’t complain.

Has he ever said anything to you? asked Helkin, still puzzled at who this guy could be.

No. He pretty much keeps to himself, Jorndog said. I only see him talking with one other dwarf. There’s not much else about those guys I can tell you.

Can you do me a favor? Helkin asked. Can you keep your eyes and ears open for me? If you see or hear anything suspicious, let me know right away. That old man gives me a bad feeling. I just hope I find out why that is before something bad happens.

Will do, sir and good luck! replied Jorndog who was only too eager to help a close friend. A perplexed look came over his face right after he uttered those words. Because he has known Helkin for years and his friend said something was bothering him and more often than not, his instincts were correct. He was hoping that this was the one time his gut feeling was wrong.

Helkin picked up his glass from the bar and quickly drank the last bit of liquor left in his glass. He set the glass back down onto the bar, paid Jorndog his two bits then left the tavern. He paused for a moment once outside and looked around the city in admiration. There were orange and yellow flickering lights that took turns bouncing off the walls. The mumbled and distorted sound of conversations could be heard echoing through the city tunnels.

He turned to his left and walked down the carved out foot path. He crossed a bridge with fresh water running underneath it. The dwarves who had built this city made sure to preserve the natural running water they found in some of the caves beneath the mountain. As he walked towards home, he couldn’t get that vision out of his head of the two dwarves sitting at that table plotting something. He put his right hand on the handle of his sheathed sword just to feel it in his grip. The strange encounter at the tavern had Helkin all beside himself with anxiety and worry. Nothing good can come of this, I am certain, was the repeating thought in his head. If they are indeed plotting something nefarious, then he must do whatever he can to stop it. He feared he may already be too late.

Helkin was trying to figure out why they were so unfamiliar to him. He was one of the head dwarves in the king’s armory council. It was his job to know everything about every dwarf living within the city’s walls. So if any new dwarves should arrive in the city to take up residence, he, of all people, would have been informed about it. And yet, he had seen them here and there but just never caught their names. They were fairly new to the Ironhold and he had yet to gather all the information on them. It was his job to make sure that no one came or went through the city without his knowledge because it could pose a threat to its safety.

And because that was his job, that alone would make him to be the guardian of Ironhold. A position he more or less created himself by taking charge and standing out to the king. Whenever there had been an attack or breach of the main gate, Helkin was there leading the troops to victory each and every time. No one dare challenged him for this role. The more this went on, the more comfortable he and the entire city became and after a while, it was merely understood that Helkin would be at the forefront protecting the city.

Ironhold was built more than fifty centuries ago. Stories of those ancient dwarves who had founded this city are still told to this day to the children as they grow up. Everyone knows of the city’s history and they are quite proud of where they came from. Thundrak was the leader back before their city was founded. He had led his small band of rag-tag dwarves across the land in search of a first real home. No one not even Thundrak knew of what lies ahead for them. They were miles and miles away from Ironhold Mountain unaware of the history they were creating.

They would sleep in what would become traveling campsites in the woods or within small caves they quickly dug out during the day that offered them protection from various roaming ogres and other dangers of the land. The cave entrances were of a modest size and hidden from view, only large enough for them to fit inside the temporary housing.

The dwarves were small in comparison to the ogres that their campsite was not visible to them given their large size and poor vision. Thundrak had led his people for years through the valleys and over countless mountains throughout the realm. They encountered dangers and challenges along the way such as huge forest spiders and farming trolls. Battered and beaten down, Thundrak pushed ahead and kept everyone moving in search of somewhere to call home. He wasn't sure where their home would be. He did know that he had to protect those that had survived along with him this long, no matter what. He could sense that they were getting close to their home but not before some minor setbacks along the way.

Ghuri had faith in his leader having come this far but his patience, however, was beginning to wear thin. He had been having second thoughts about his leadership and whether he was up to the task. Ghuri was not one of Thundrak’s biggest supporters and this disdain for his leader would play an integral part in shaping his life later on.

Ghuri, you have to calm down, his friend Yuro said. You're going to get us all killed if you don't let it go."

I cannot sit idly by and let this incompetent fool lead us to our death, Ghuri said.

But Ghuri, we have to keep quiet or our cover will be blown. Thundrak will make a mistake and that will be our chance to take him out.

Yuro, I have listened to you and took your advice for a long time, Ghuri said, and every time that I have listened to you, I am rewarded with nothing. So from now on, I am doing everything the way I should've been doing it all along… my way! You can stand there and oppose me but you will soon regret it. Are you with me or not? It's your choice. Yuro had been like a brother to him for a few years now.

How can you do this to me, Ghuri? asked Yuro. After everything we’ve been through together. I supported you and helped you with all of your worthless plans that always seemed to never work.

I’m sorry you see it that way, Yuro, Ghuri said. I see this situation now going two different ways. Either you’re with me or you’re not which would mean to me that you’re with him and on his side. I’m only going to ask you once Yuro, which side are you on?

I’m on yours you know that, Yuro said, but I’m not going to be a part of this ridiculous plan any longer.

Fine have it your way, Ghuri continued. Just lag behind the group and watch what happens. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right. I only get one shot at it. This plan is going to work, I know it will and once it is set into motion there'll be no stopping the events that happen because of it. I just hope Neykum is in place and has everything ready to go.

What is Nekum doing? asked Yuro with curiosity.

I sent him far ahead of the group a few days ago to set up a trap, Ghuri said. Now I have to lead the group to it myself. I made the trap so that it will kill Thundrak once and for all and then we can get someone else to lead us, anyone but him. I just need to get him into the proper position and everything else will take care of itself.

But why do you have to kill him, Yuro said. Can’t you just make him have an accident or scare him or something like that?

No, Ghuri said, it has to be permanent and I can’t think of anything more permanent than death. I don’t want him to have a chance to regain the throne. He does not know how to lead. He must pay for what happened to my father.

Ghuri's over confidence in his plan might very well be his greatest weakness. There were so many moving parts to all of it and every detail had to be perfect for it to succeed. He could see Thundrak up ahead urging his followers to keep going and that their home wouldn't be much further. His plan for vengeance had to work of only because he was being poisoned by the wrath of another. His sole purpose was to avenge what happened to his father and Thundrak was the unfortunate one to pay the price, or so he thought.

"Oh Thundrak," Ghuri thought to himself. If you only knew that you had mere minutes to live, would you keep taking us on this path? The sun was starting to go down as nightfall approached. The trap would be sprung tomorrow.

Up ahead of the group, there was rustling about on the other side of a small ridge just out of view. The group quickly took up defensive positions amongst the trees and underbrush. Arrows were quietly drawn and their hands were on their sword handles. Everyone was at the ready awaiting orders. The rustling ahead of them began to get louder causing everyone to be more on edge. Thundrak turned around and gave a gesture to the group that was intended to help calm them all down and remain focused. He was poised and ready to strike. He had already convinced himself that whatever it was making all of that noise would not get past him on this day. He would fell the beast with his last dying breath.

A few moments later a dwarf appeared standing atop the ridge feet away

Reviews for The Gem of Zyenar

[Ashley · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

First, I like the idea of this book, a fantasy story from the dwarf's point of view. And technically, it was well written as far grammar and punctuation, but, I found myself giving up the read around the beginning of the second chapter. I just wasn't getting into it.
The kind of fantasy stories I like are those that make me imagine that I am there. This one didn't. There wasn't even any action scenes. At least not in the first chapter. Maybe there are some later. There wasn't much description either, so it all left me feeling a bit out in the cold.