BECMI Chapter 40 – Messing with History
“Interesting. Only some two thousand-plus years?” I could see uneasiness ripple across their faces. “Prince Ukker,” I said very formally, “you noticed nobody has touched the till, because it is useless to do so. If you would please walk over to it, remove the seventh gold coin from the top, the third silver coin from the second column on the left, and the fourth copper coin from the bottom of the first column on the left.”
He blinked at me, then looked at the priest, wondering if he should do such a menial task. My coldly serious gaze convinced him of the seriousness of this moment, and he pushed his chair back to wander over to the bar and the rows of coins there ready to be used for change. He counted them down, pulled them out, and then inspected them as he was walking back.
He stopped halfway back, lifting up the coins closer to his eyes to examine. The aghast look he sent the Revered Cruxin made the priest tense.
“Before you say anything, Highness,” I said formally, “know that the coins there in that till are from nearly FOUR thousand years ago, forged during the time of the Empire of Iberon, which your historians should have some knowledge of as a fallen human empire. Specifically, given this Inn’s location, the coins came from the legendary kingdom of Darkmoor, which perished over a thousand years before that time when Clangyr created you.
“Please show those coins to Revered Cruxin.”
The dwarven prince came forward slowly, and very formally handed the coins over to his elder.
The dwarven priest took them, his face as unmoving as stone as he inspected the craftsmanship, the style, the precision and artistry in the cutting… and the very apparent visage of a dwarf on the face of each coin.
A dwarf from before dwarves existed!
“The histories of the shadenelves of the deep places hold many tales and stories forgotten by many races, reaching back many thousands of years,” I went on, dragging their attention from the coins. “Two passages come to mind that I recall from them.
“The first was from the high era, when the shadenelves did not dwell so deep, and they first encountered dwarves below the surface. Elder Drurithyll remarked how it was thought the last of the dwarves they knew had died in Darkmoor, and they wondered how the dwarves had managed to arrive ahead of the elves in the deep places without passing them by.”
I let that fact percolate in both their minds as they stared at me.
“The second is a recollection from truly ancient times on the origin of the sword borne by the favored general of the then Elven King. It was remarked that the star-metal was brought to the dwarven mage-smiths, who wrought their work and wonders upon it with the aid of a powerful mage of the people, and so empowered it back then.”
Now they had expressions like I had grown an extra head.
“Thus, I am saying to you that it is entirely likely that the end point of our time loop is back in the time of Darkmoor, when this Inn was first constructed, and from thence we might return to the future. But in that time there are going to be dwarves, and dwarves who know nothing of Clangyr and who have legends and tales of their own.” And I bent forward slowly, my voice dropping, “And they had mage-smiths among them, or as the Class is known in other times and places, both Artificers and Wizards of their own.”
There was a remarkable mix of colors playing under the weathered skin of both of the dwarves as they struggled to reconcile the history of their people and origins as the favored of Clangyr with what I had just told them.
The coins gleamed on the table, damning all their protests.
“Your ability to make magical items without magic is likely a remnant of this ability of the ancient dwarves. However, from what I have read, this ability is limited to powerful, high-level dwarves, correct?” I inquired in as calm and even a voice as ever, as if their discomfort really meant nothing to me.
“It… yes. Although priests of the Craft-Father can make some minor things with His gifts somewhat sooner,” Revered Cruxin hedged defensively.
I just nodded. “Artificers can make basic Runestones and Runeshards at as low as One.”
Both dwarves gasped in shock. “Runestones? Runeshards?” the prince repeated in confusion.
“Runestones are the carved equivalent of a Scroll. They would be something a fellow Caster could read or interpret to pull the power from. Very minor effects, of course, like the simplest of spells,” I explained calmly. “Runeshards are the carved equivalent of Potions. Instead of drinking them, you break them or crush them to release the magic within. More expensive to make, but not necessarily harder, and again, minor spells. Like Healing Potions and the like.” My eyes turned on the prince intently. “The Wizards could do likewise, of course, but Artificers were focused on the creation of items, since that was basically all they could do. The gifts of Wizards covered a broader spectrum, and they could pursue many areas of interest, frequently leaving basic magical item construction to the Artificers.”
Both of the dwarves were shaking again, especially with the way I was looking at Prince Ukker. “Your tones and stare have hidden meanings,” the priest noted nervously.
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I inclined my head slightly. “Nothing written indicated the gift was common among the dwarves, but they did note there were two aspects to it. The primary aspect was that the Wizard was restricted to spells of the spheres of geomancy. Do you know what those are?” I looked back and forth between them patiently.
The cleric was slow to respond, Prince Ukker out of his depth. “Geomancy deals with rock and stone, crystal and metal.” He hesitated. “Expounding on it is a topic for those who study what Wizards do,” he finally admitted.
“Those are indeed included,” I confirmed by rote, a teacher praising a student. “Other aspects include mass, force, gravity, magnetism, and lightning.”
“Lightning!” both of them blurted out. “Everyone knows that lightning is of the sky!” Prince Ukker further exclaimed.
I considered that. “Ah, yes. Apologies. Lightning is the Elemental aspect of it, and in Dwarven that is precisely ‘sky-power’. More correct would be ‘electricity’, of which lightning is but merely a small and minor aspect of it.”
They blinked at that description. “I do not see how such power is of the earth,” the prince hedged.
I just lifted an eyebrow. “You never walked across a thick bear rug on a cold day, when the air is dry, and touched your sibling on the ear?”
Both of them started. “That…” Ukker muttered in surprise.
“That spark is electricity.” I pointed upwards. “Lightning bolts are the tiny little sparks the air makes when it rubs against the land below. The real voltage,” I inverted to point my hand down emphatically.
The dwarves were duly impressed by that revelation. “We, we never feel or see such power…” Revered Cruxin protested feebly.
“That is because the air is doing it for you. When the energies are not in balance, the air sucks them away and carries them around in its chaotic way. You know the sky is one big mess of hot air, cold air, water that has condensed in clouds, water that has not, and water that is precipitating. This chaotic mess makes the electricity flow all around, and it occasionally discharges.
“Sometimes it is between different parts of the sky or within the clouds. Sometimes it is from heaven to earth. Sometimes it bleeds down the falling water and is drained away in streams and rivers.
“But if you rotate a wire about a magnetic field with sufficient energy, it creates electricity in steady, measurable, tamable quantity.” They both stared at me at mention of the advanced alchemical knowledge, at least the way it was termed in Dwarvish. “Likewise, send electrical current through a carrier, and you create an electromagnetic field.
“If you are poetic, electricity is of geomancy, the unseen and mighty currents of the earth; lightning is of aeromancy, the chaotic build-up and dispersal of the same energies; and thunderbolts are the relationship between air and earth being tumultuous.
“As magnetism and electricity are so closely wed, electricity is a force of geomancy.
“Dwarven wizards were experts with geomancy, and so capable of building wondrous architecture and machinery. It is logical that their wizard-engineers were the most skilled builders of the ancient and mighty works of power that defined Darkmoor, as dwarves are considered the foremost engineers and architects around today.”
The two of them certainly were not going to argue that point. “And the last point you were going to make?” Prince Ukker asked hesitantly.
“Dwarven Wizards were said to have Hearts of the Mountain, or Torhuv. That was the name for their talent with geomancy. There was another, rarer branch of their people, typified by brightly colored hair, be it flaming copper, almost polished silver… or bright gold.” The golden-bearded dwarven prince went beet red in embarrassment. “Those last were the ones who bore a minor affinity with Fire as well, and were the greatest of the mage-smiths thereby.
“Those dwarves were said to the have the Heart of the Volcano, or Chamhuv.”
Prince Ukker swallowed. “And… you believe I might have this gift?” he asked in a low voice. The fact that there were Dwarven words for it was damnable proof.
I held out my hand, palm up. “Your hand, Your Highness. Please set foot on the ground.”
Mystified, he nonetheless did so, before taking my hand.
There was an immediate jolt running through him, and then something like a painful tingling along his bones. This immediately changed to a feeling like his blood was boiling, and he gasped as I released him, steam blowing out his nose visibly.
“You have the power to manipulate the magic, indeed. I can feel it in there. But… the earthpower now bound to your people will not let it remain inside you. It is violently pushing it out of you, so the capacity to carry the power around is simply not there now.” Both dwarves exhaled, although whether they should be happy or not seemed ambiguous. “It is like conducting electricity along a wire. It allows the power to pass, but not to remain. Interesting.” I glanced sideways, and rose to my feet. “One moment, Rockborn, I must Salute the Dawn.”
Concerned but relieved at the mental break, the two dwarves watched as I made my way over to the doorway, opened it, and stood there as the arc of the sun moved down towards the doorway.
Every day might be an old day, as it were, but it didn’t matter, as it was a new day to us, and more things were possible.
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“Behold the new day!’
Behind me, temporal magic kicked over. Hanging cuts of meat refreshed, bread in cupboards refilled, stores of water restocked, barrels refilled, and the middens emptied. Little swirls of magic at the edge of the eye cleaned things up and reset them to what they were, and even the coins on the table in front of Prince Ukker vanished, sent back to the till.
It had no effect on the food already taken and being set out as sustenance for everyone involved, the dwarves especially chowing down the first real meal that they’d had in some time with fervor and gratitude.
Soon enough everyone had drifted back in and either claimed heaped plates for themselves, or were waiting on the same. Good hot food and cool drink was a fine combination, and everyone was in relatively good spirits.
Even Cirruluxul had her own large serving tray of cuts, arranged artfully so she could nip them up one by one and chew thoughtfully. The dragon looked drolly content with her situation, and if the dwarves kept throwing wary glances her way, she ignored them, and soon enough they found other things to look at than an unexpressive dragon.
I rejoined the two dwarves at the table, which was freshly cleaned, even as the floor remained covered in dirt and grime no one was making any effort to change. A plate of fruit and slices of nutty bread lathered in warm butter and sugar was brought for me by Buck personally, for which I thanked him gravely. He trotted off as if I’d bestowed a knighthood on him.
Between bites of fruit and bread, the conversation resumed.