View source for Emerald Dragons: The Dwarf, The Imp, and The Eye



<p>The girl’s body had been brought to her parents’ home and readied. The 
preparations were done, the magical scroll had been found. The only thing still 
needed was the reluctant cleric. <br>
Under a tree about a hundred feet away from the small cottage, Bertram sat 
hiding from his companions. Anything that would buy him more time. He looked 
down at his dwarven hands. Hands made by the gods to wield hammers and axes as 
if they were toys; hands that could crack stone with little effort. Those hands 
were now trembling and sweaty, as if the priest of Domi was overcome by a fever. 
But it wasn’t a fever that caused such trembling - it was fear. Bertram had 
never attempted to bring anyone back from the afterlife, and he doubted his 
ability to do it. Surely Gargul has no interest in anything I might ask of him?
<br>
He had prayed that another cleric would be found. Someone powerful. Someone 
worthy enough to ask such a gift of the gods. Anyone but a simple dwarf that was 
scared to death.<br>
Hearing his companions draw closer to his place of hiding, the grizzled priest 
wiped at his eyes and brow and tried to look composed; tried to pretend that 
this wasn’t the most important day of his life. Walking out into the clearing, 
Bertram hailed his friends and headed toward the cottage. A smile was pasted 
upon his lips, but his heart lay heavy with doubt.<br>
Bertram stepped into the cottage only to be confronted immediately by the 
parents of the little girl, Bella. They looked toward him, searching for the one 
thing they desperately needed - hope. Bertram groaned inwardly, and then 
embraced them, blessing them both, trying not to let his fear show through. 
Thankfully Lian drew the tearful parents away and outside the cottage. At least 
they would not be inside when he began the prayer to Domi and, of course, Gargul.<br>
<br>
It was mid afternoon and Milo nodded to Bertram that all was ready. Nodding to 
his friend, too nervous for words, Bertram entered the bedroom of young Bella. 
He looked down at her broken body and his spirit quailed. He considered fleeing. 
But he looked back behind him at all of his companions gathered around, smiling 
their encouragement, and knew he had to make the attempt. Laying the scroll upon 
the stand that had been placed by the bed, Bertram prepared to call upon the 
Gods of the Wold. <br>
Bertram looked back once more at Milo and nodded tersely. With a look that could 
stone a basilisk, Milo moved over to where Bertram began preparations to perform 
the prayer, and drawing his short sword, turned, facing away from the dwarf and 
his charge, and stood guard over the proceedings. &quot;In the name of Pantheon, none 
shall interrupt these proceedings, so shall I swear.&quot; The tone was quite 
serious, and the effect was quite ceremonial as the halfling Justicar took a 
knee and propped his short sword, ready for action. <br>
<br>
Shutting out all distractions Bertram laid his hands upon the girl’s torso, 
directly over her heart. He tried to purge out all of the doubts and fears that 
would assure him of failure before he even began. Calming himself he looked back 
at his friends once more then down to the scroll that held the hope of the 
entire group. Keeping his hand upon the child, he read from the prepared scroll, 
the liquid syllables pouring from somewhere inside him, the peculiar words 
surprising him. He felt an odd warmth coming from the hand lying upon the child. 
As the words died away he sent a prayer to Domi and Gargul. &quot;Grant me this 
request, God of mine and God of the Afterlife, Hear my plea and save this 
child's life!&quot; Even as he made the plea he felt a strange pull as if he were 
being drawn away from his companions and the girl. A momentary panic gripped him 
before he realized it was part of the prayer’s power. Those closest to him heard 
him speak, although it was no more than a mumble. His body stiffened and sweat 
broke out on his forehead. He appeared to be speaking to someone very 
emotionally. All the while his hand never left the child.<br>
<br>


XXXXXXXX<br>
<br>
Bertram is surprised to find himself in a small one room cottage. To the side of 
the room a straw pallet sits and a savory soup bubbles over the fire. Near the 
fire, facing away from him was a large man apparently stirring soup. Sitting in 
a huge wooden chair sized to fit the large man is a small being, more troll like 
than anything else except that he is at the most 2 feet tall. He sits playing 
with a wooden child's toy humming contentedly until he notices Bertram’s 
startled stare. . <br>
<br>Suddenly the strange creature leapt up and ran to Bertram. 
Bowing deeply he squeaks. &quot;Master the priest is here.&quot; With that he crosses and 
sits in front of the chair. The large man stands, knees cracking and crosses to 
the chair, with out sitting he looks down at Bertram. The dwarf also used the 
time to examine the man before him He is a most normal looking old man except 
his eyes. His gray eyes look as if all the secrets of the universe have parade 
in front of them and he has found them beautiful and boring. Finally sitting he 
sighs and speaks.<br>
<br>
&quot;You are here to ask for the life of the girl to be extended. Here you are 
having used the magic of the universe to travel here and ask this question but I 
have a question for you, Bertram Trothgard. Why should THIS girl above all 
others be granted more time. What about all the other parents that must bid 
goodbye every single day to their children? What makes this girl so special that 
you wish me to reorder the universe just so she may have more time?&quot; Drumming 
his wrinkled fingers on the edge of the chair Bertram plainly sees the weathered 
tattoo of the open eye on the back of his hand. There is no doubt of who he is 
speaking with.<br>
<br>
Bertram bows then slowly forms a response, letting his mind sort possible 
answers. &quot;My Lord Gargul, I would say that I agree with you about the value of 
the life of the child. She is probably no more special than any other child born 
to this world. Her parents have no special pain that another parent would not 
feel as well, in this I agree with you. With you permission, I would offer a few 
reasons why I feel that her life, and our requests are worthy. Her life was 
taken from her with no wrong-doing on her part. While this is not anything new 
in this world, I do feel it is a circumstance that is truly tragic. I would also 
offer up that we sent her killers to you within moments of the deed. I would ask 
that you consider their foul souls in exchange for the life of this one innocent 
child. Also, while other parents lose children daily, they perhaps did not have 
someone to appeal to you. At least give the child's case some consideration, for 
simply the fact we cared enough to ask. If our sorrow at her death has no 
meaning to you, then at least consider it for our temerity in asking. Boldness 
in this world does not always bode good intentions but I know that you are able 
to see that we do this simply to better an already, pain-filled world. I appeal 
to you to do it, not just because it would make me and my companions happy, but 
two heart-broken parents absolutely beside themselves with joy. They did not 
deserve this to happen to them, no more than the child did.&quot; Bertram looks 
somewhat pale and distraught as he argues his case, he hesitates then the looks 
the god straight in the eye, a tear sliding down his weathered cheek.<br>
<br>
&quot;With your indulgence, God of the Afterlife I have but one other thing to offer 
for the child's life; My own. If the gods will not save this child because it is 
a tragic tale that deserves to be retold, then do it for my soul in the place of 
the child. Surely for a God this is something that can be accomplished? You ask 
why she should be saved? I believe she deserves it, but I am a simple Dwarf, but 
as you can see, one with strong convictions and willing to put his life on the 
line to prove it to you. I know not anything else I may offer Great One, but if 
it is necessary I will bid my friends farewell and smile doing it, knowing I saved that child's life.&quot;<br>
<br>
Bertram bows again signaling he is done and waits for an answer, his mind full 
of worry and doubts that his answers were acceptable. The Old man leans back 
looking Bertram up and down for a moment and then in a deep gravely voice and a 
slight smile says... <br>
<br>
&quot;For THAT the deal may be struck. <br>
Your soul is mine.&quot; <br>
<br>
With lighting fast reflexes he flashes out and grabs the dwarf’s small fist in 
his huge hands. Looking deep into his eyes, Bertram feels the burning of life 
all through his body, but mostly in his clenched fist. Shivering and shaking the 
feeling rushes all through out his body. This is what it must be like to die, 
were his last thoughts as he started to pass out.<br>
<br>
Surprisingly the feeling ended and upon opening his eyes Bertram sees the old 
man leaning back in his chair, ruffling the small creature's hair as it sits and 
plays on the floor in front of the chair. The gravely voice speaks again.<br>
<br>
&quot;See Gimp, he will do fine...&quot;<br>
<br>
Things suddenly seem . . . . Balanced . . . . . complete . . . . . . . . . At 
rest.<br>
<br>
The Old Man smiles again and speaks. &quot;Bertram Trothgard, You have much to learn, 
but you have time and I will teach you, after all you are mine now.&quot;<br>
<br>
Without thinking Bertram stumbles out the only thing he can think of....&quot;Am I, 
well Lord, am I dead now?&quot;<br>
<br>
The Old Man and the small creature stare at the confused dwarf for a moment as 
if he had suddenly sprouted green warts and then they both suddenly begin 
laughing. Long, loud, laughs full of the most pure joy Bertram had ever heard.<br>
<br>
&quot;Oh for the love of destiny..... Will you mortals never learn.... What good are 
you to me dead? If you are on the other side then how will your soul be of any 
use to me what so ever? I am the God of Life and Death. I am the force keeping 
the Shadow Realms from eating the Wold alive. I am the way of life and the path 
of death. I am the gate not the afterlife. This is how you will begin to be of 
use to me. You will return to the Wold and continue to serve my friend the Noble 
Domi. You will also serve me. Should you choose to worship me, well that is your 
choice, but you will do these things.<br>
<br>
One you will serve me in all things dealing with life and death. You will suffer 
no abominations to walk the Wold. The undead, the soul-less, or the troubled.<br>
<br>
Two you will suffer none to elongate their natural life spans by magic or other 
wise unless granted by me.<br>
<br>
Three you will educate the people that I am not the afterlife but the gate to 
that place. I do not keep the souls of the dead but rather make sure that they 
find their ultimate ending place and that they are given the chance to return in 
another life should they wish it.<br>
<br>
Four, this girl you return with is your responsibility. You have bought her a 
life, now you must see that she uses it well. That she is educated in all things 
and that she has all the opportunities she could wish for. You will also see 
that she learns generosity, kindness, humility, and responsibility. She is your 
charge, responsibility, pupil and child. In this you will serve me.<br>
<br>
Now open your hand and look at my mark and return with the girl.”<br>
<br>
Opening his hand, Bertram sees on his palm, the open eye of Gargul tattooed 
there. Red and staring. Endless. Suddenly the priest feels himself being sucked 
back into reality and opens his eyes to see all his friends standing about. The 
girl breathes, once, again, and again. As she opens her eyes, Bertram realizes 
that the girl really lives. He also sees that on the back of her hand is a new 
scar. Turning his head just right it looks like an open, staring eye.<br>
<br>
The rest of the Talons witness Bertram blink a few times his mind returning to 
the here and now, just as the young girl gasps, her lungs filling with air and 
her chest expanding under Bertram's palm. Milo shouted out to the others, “HE 
DID IT!&quot; Then trying to recall what little he knew of religions beyond his own, 
Milo looked upon Bertram with respect, &quot;To whom were you speaking Bertram? Your 
lips formed words, but we could not hear them. Tell me of your experience, for I 
want to understand the ways of the gods better.&quot; Milo sheathed his sword, and 
sat cross-legged, waiting, hoping to learn from the more experienced cleric. <br>
<br>
Bertram looks around, awareness slowly penetrating to his clouded mind. Seeing 
the child breathing he smiles softly, then turns over the hand that was on the 
girl and regards the mark there. As he regards it he nods once as if confirming 
something. Hearing his name called he turns and looks to Milo. At the question 
his brow furrows. &quot;I spoke to the God Gargul, Milo. He allowed us to stop the 
girl's soul from passing on. It is truly a miracle. As for what it was like? It 
was strange beyond the telling, but yet at the same time, the surroundings were 
most mundane. It was truly strange and wondrous, and yes. even joyous. Let me 
start at the beginning.&quot; Bertram holds the hand of the young child as he begins 
to relate the story. He would learn more of Gargul, and he would do what he had 
agreed. He would spread the news of Gargul and what he stood for. Bertram began 
to relate what had occurred and what the Teachings of Gargul meant. &lt;/nowiki&gt;
<br>
&nbsp;</p>

''This was originally published February 06, 2006 at [http://www.harvestersheroes.com] by Mark Hammonds''