Rynth: Four Beats

| 5th of Teryusin — Year 362 of the Cycle of Synthesis, Grand Cycle ??? |

The longer Raoul held the prosthetic arm in his hand, the more his mind gawked at the sheer anatomical similarities it possessed to his own left. Both the husk and frame of the metallic apparatus extended into its width and length, and continued to sheen with an unmistakable glow as it reflected back the light from Raoul’s Conjure Flame spell into his eyes.

“Uncanny,” observed Raoul.

With his own arm he held the prosthetic a few feet above him and twisted and pivoted in all manner of directions to get a better look at the parts that made it up. A few taps on the outer frame—tough, but noticeably very hollow. He tossed it upward a few times. Lightweight, it landed back into his grip each time softly. The joint on the elbow bent about just as well as a normal arm could, maybe even with greater flexibility. Each finger was perfectly outlined with carvings to a degree of detail that he knew could only come from someone with a high degree of craftsmanship.

Peering around the wrist and there, nestled in a faintly dug-out round crevice Raoul could just about make out a small bit of metal that was raised a few inches above the rest of the surface. His instincts told him to press onto the projection. With a soft click, the metal slid down into a cylindrical depression, and out of nowhere, four small, thinner see-through glass cylinders extended to form distinct prongs that jutted out and ended just before the hand proper.

Idri’s tone raised, still parsing the prosthetic. “Ooh… What’s that?”

Raoul shrugged. “I have no clue. It’s a prosthetic arm. The glass cylinders are definitely used to carry something, but I’ve got no clue what. Maybe liquids for alchemy? Not that there was any mention of prosthetic arms being used in brewing.”

“Well, it’s gotta contain something!” She started tapping rapidly on his shoulder. “Try something, anything.”

Unfortunately for Raoul, the prosthetic arm did not budge. He continued to scan both the arm and its cylinders in the hopes of garnering more hints, but to no avail. Even when he swung the arm back and forth, the cylinders remained steady, not even cracking slightly when he accidentally bumped it into the stone wall.

“It’s sturdy, I’ll give it that…” Raoul concluded with a shrug, pressing the small button once more. All four cylinders slowly began to retreat into the metal, flipping over once inside to use their steel undersides to perfectly seal in the gaps. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to make use of it. I still have both my arms, and don’t plan on losing my left any time soon.”

“Aww… Fine. At least keep it, then. It’ll be a memento of our first dungeon delving.”

“That’s a good idea. I don’t think we should reveal the dungeon’s location, though. Call me sentimental, but to have ‘Narrow Hallway’ be just another tourist spot doesn’t sound appealing. As narrow and as hallway as it may be, it’s still a relic of our first time dungeon delving, as you said.”

“You’re really calling it that? Pft… Narrow Hallway.”

“A reminder of your shame, and hopefully something that might encourage you to start thinking up new names. Less ‘Narrow Hallway’ and more… ‘Hand of… I don’t know, Steel?’”

She gently kicked at his shin, but that was more than enough to elicit an ‘ow’ from him. “You say that, but you’re no better than I am, Raoul. Can we at least keep the arm?”

Raoul nodded, stuffing the prosthetic into his backpack. He turned, leading Idri over to the door that stood behind them. “We will. But for now, I think it’s time we found our way out.”

The girl hopped over to his side at the mention. “Finally!”

Tracing their paths would not be difficult when north was their only direction. The creaky wooden door squeaked at his push, revealing another dark hallway not too dissimilar to the one they toured a few short minutes ago. Only this one offered a silver lining in the form of a clearly visible light at the end of the tunnel—the very same light they had entered through. Blowing in from the far end was the distinct scent of the open underground, and along with it the flowing waves of the river below.

Raoul immediately clocked the discrepancy in the distance they had traveled and the distance they now had to the entrance. It seemed Idri did as well, but he kept his thoughts to himself and confidently strolled down the hallway.

Before long they were out and standing over the platform, only this time there didn’t need to be any piggyback-jumping over the river anymore. Raoul allowed Idri to backflip onto the cliff’s edge just above them and used her outstretched hand to follow quickly after.

“I have you now,” Raoul said in half-breaths. “If you don’t have any other business in Under Buril, how would you feel about coming up to the surface with me? It’ll be a drastic change from your being used to the dimness of the underground, but I’ll be there to help.”

The last bit was all she needed to hear to be convinced. “I should be fine to leave, but while we’re on our way out, could we make a small detour to some people, and the one who’s been taking care of me this entire time? I want to say goodbye to everyone.“

“It wouldn’t hurt to,” Raoul agreed, gesturing for her to lead. “I figured you probably had someplace to stay all this time.”

And lead she did. Idri quickly skipped off into a bubbly run, waving for Raoul to follow. He resented the impromptu workout, but nonetheless did his best to keep pace. Within a few minutes they had made it onto the main road that led into the village Raoul had passed earlier on, and along the way entire groups of miners—seven to eight working men worth—crossed by in jolly, each one raising a hand to say goodbye to Idri as she explained her departure. A few eyed Raoul with a cautious eye, but their suspicions were shrugged off when the collar of the boy’s hand was effortlessly yanked to make sure he didn’t fall behind.

It seemed the entire underground knew Idri. As news began to circulate about the two trailing the main road, more and more people began to pour out of their stone houses to bid her farewell. Dozens of kids would stand in their path, blocking off their route and lengthening the travel time an extra bittersweet half hour.

“Thank you, everyone…!” Idri said, waving off the entire village in broad motions. “I’ll come visit when I return, promise!”

“You’re really popular,” noted Raoul with a smile on his face. In his own way, he was glad to witness in person how she, despite having temporarily left the life she had, was never alone the entire time. “I’m almost envious.”

“This is nothing,” she replied, grin never wavering all the while. “You should see Auntie Sayli’s family. Can you believe that she takes care of twenty children in one house?”

Their run led them to the far end of the village, already in sight of the railway tunnel Raoul had taken to enter the underground. Idri quickly turned him into a lone stone house that stood at the complete edge of the area. Unlike the rest, it had one large chimney attached to the roof that spewed out jet black smoke. Raoul could make out two sounds from the inside: the repeated clang of steel on steel and the crackling of an open, raging flame.

“This is our last stop. Grandpa Urfrey lives here. He’s the town’s blacksmith, but don’t tell him I told you that. He prefers to be called a metallurgist.”

Idri was at the door the next moment. Thrilled expression on her face, she tapped her fist at the metallic door in four beats and followed with a call. “Grandpa Urfrey! I’m home!”

The hammering ceased almost instantly. Steps that shared her excitement quickly paced to the door, and within seconds it was pulled open to reveal a unique sight. Standing in front of them and just shy of the doorknob was a stout and hardy brown-bearded man with bulky arms almost as wide as Raoul’s thighs. Each one tested the durability of the single plain white tank top that barely concealed his bulging chest and thick neck. His facial hair was a wonder; both moustache and beard so bushy it was almost impossible to see where the two met and ended. The latter hid the entire front of his neck, yet moved with each word he spoke.

It was a dwarf.

“Idri!” the dwarf called out, letting out a loud bellow following it. “Working hard, I’m hoping. How’d the hunting go? Bah, don’t tell me yet, actually. Come in first. And who’s this?”

Even from his position as a bystander, Raoul could tell he was referring to both the Goldstone Gang’s demise and her actual culling of the predators. A slight shiver rang down his spine at the casual tone the dwarf carried.

“This is Raoul,” Idri opened an arm to show him off. “He’s the person I’ve been telling you so much about.”

“Mm! The hishak who up and went for a while, hm? Good to hear you two are back together. Little Idri’s been agrami’g you to the point I’ve already gotten sick of your name. You come in too. I’ve got an extra seat ready.”

Raoul hadn’t polished up on his dwarvish since his last few social studies courses, but he was quite sure ‘hishak’ meant ‘brat’ and ‘agrami’g’ Shaping-era slang for ‘telling me too much about’. He knew dwarves weren’t the kind to mince words and actually preferred to be as blunt as possible, but it was still quite the culture shock meeting one firsthand. Still, he recognized the goodwill he was being offered and meekly stepped his way inside.