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The Fixer's Apprentice Kordo fastened the tent flap and re-joined his master. The canvas didn't block out the sound of the wind, or the distant thunder of war that told them just how near the battlefield they were. Still, it had to suffice. Distractions had to be minimal, for his master would need the utmost concentration. Knelt amongst ruined treasures of the old city - tapestries, furniture, tarnished silver chalices - Dorfgel was examining a large two-handed sword. It was a beautiful weapon, a masterpiece by any standards, and enchanted with magic Kordo could not hope to fathom. Alas, the blade also lay in two pieces. Kordo sat down a few feet away, as his master ran learned fingers along the weapon, aligning the broken edges, and then the apprentice held his breath as the elder dwarf pulled a small container from his pocket. Woldsblood, caught inside a tiny bottle of the finest, the most pure gold Kordo had ever seen. On its own, the bottle was extremely valuable, but compared to what lay inside? Kordo felt the Woldsblood's siren song as soon as Dorfgel pulled the stopper. "Come with me," it said, pulling at the very depths of his soul. "Rest now and flow..." He shook his head, clearing it of lethal whispers, and watched as his master let just one tiny drop fall from the bottle and land upon the broken blade. Dorfgel began to chant softly, and Kordo joined him, picking up the rhythm and cadence of the divine spell. He knew the words. He'd been practicing. One day he would have to do this, once he had learned to conquer the lure of Woldsblood, for that was where the true danger lay. Then, in a moment of pure wonder, the shattered blade fused and came to life. Its own magic sang through it now, empowered by the Woldsblood that had been absorbed and was now part of it. Kordo gave a sigh of relief as his elder put the stopper on the tiny bottle, slipped it back in his pocket, and gave his younger apprentice a wink. "A job well done," grinned Dorfgel, getting to his feet and hefting the blade. "Magnificent Kordo, wouldn't you say?" The younger dwarf had to agree, and nodded vigorously. "Hmm." His master's eyes seemed to bore through him. "Never fear the call of the blood, Kordo. Once you truly know its song, then it can become your servant, and you its master. It will never take your soul until you allow it. And that day is still a long ways off, for both of us." The elder dwarf touched the holy symbol around his neck for a moment. Kordo knew it contained a tiny drop of Woldsblood within it, and knew that his master would have to listen to it constantly calling to him. Dorfgel wrapped the blade loosely in thin cloth. "Right, we'd best get this back to it's owner. I've no doubt there'll be other things to mend, but if not we can start on that tapestry over there. That should keep us busy for days. By Alemi's hand, we'll have everything put to rights in no time!" Kordo's eyes swept around the tent, stacked high with broken treasures of a lost civilization, all crying out to be restored to their former glory. It was something Kordo was looking forward to. He loved restoring beautiful things, finely crafted objects. But, his master wasn't for lingering, and he had to run out of the tent to catch up. Outside, the wind whipped up over the rise, catching both of their long, braided beards, and as Kordo and Dorfgel reached the summit, they could see the plain beyond. There, a terrible battle raged. Kordo gripped his staff firmly and followed Dorfgel down the slope. He had to duck as a howling ball of flame missed their heads by a few feet and exploded behind them. Everywhere was the smell of metal and blood, fire and iron, accompanied by howls of pain and battle rage. Here, elves, dwarves, gnomes, halflings, half-orcs and humans fought shoulder to shoulder in a mighty struggle against a screaming horde of foul beasts that seemed beyond description. It was chaos. Both dwarves were light on their feet however, despite their solid build, and made good progress through the grim arena. Then something made Kordo pause. He felt warmth and energy flow through him, from his head to his tingling toes, to the point where he was positively and completely invigorated. But where was it coming from? Off to his left, a female elf stood, frail, ageless, the wind of battle causing her hair to flow behind her like a stream. Her head was upturned. Her eyes were closed. The aura surrounding her was unmistakable, emanating vitality and wellness that affected all that surrounded her. So that was where it was coming from. Below her, the injured lay, bathing in radiated power, and Kordo watched as more were brought, bloodied and torn from the vicious fighting that raged all around them. He felt a tug on his arm. "C'mon - we've no time to waste!" yelled Dorfgel over the din. "But - who is that?" Kordo was mesmerized. "That's a Paragon!" Dorfgel broke into a grin. "To touch a Paragon is likened to touching Alemi himself! He bestows upon them his greatest gifts. We are blessed to have one with us. Now come on, someone has need of this sword!" Reluctantly, the younger dwarf followed, feeling the power of her aura diminish as they continued on. Eventually, they reached a band of wild-looking human warriors, male and female. Some were wounded, all were covered in blood, but they looked strong enough, and determined. One of them approached the two dwarves as they arrived. Kordo reckoned that if he stood on Dorfgel's shoulder he still wouldn't be tall enough to meet the man eye to eye. The warrior gave them both a formal bow. "Hail Dorfgel, do you have my sword?" "I have, and fully repaired she is. You swear to do Alemi's bidding?" Kordo noticed his master's posture, ramrod straight, his eyes like iron - hard and in judgment of the mighty human stood before him. "I do so swear, on my honor and that of my brothers here, Fixer," answered the warrior solemnly. "May it shatter into a thousand pieces if it is raised even once on behalf of the evil that taints our land." Kordo watched the man carefully, as he had been taught. They had to take the utmost care that their work did not reach the wrong hands. He saw Dorfgel nod, apparently satisfied. The short ceremony over, his master clasped hands solidly with the warrior, and handed over the repaired sword. "Alemi watch over you," uttered the elder dwarf, "And may you bring this sorry battle to an early close." There was no time for any other talk. The humans turned and moved off down the field. Dorfgel beckoned him in the opposite direction. "Come!" yelled his master. "Let's see what else has to be done!" They set off, but hadn't gone more that a few yards, when a hail of arrows whistled over their heads, some of them embedding themselves in the ground. Kordo's breath rushed out of his lungs, and without wishing to - he dropped to one knee. He knew from the blossoming pain in his shoulder that one of the arrows had found a gap in his armor. Instinctively, he reached for the evil thing to pluck it from the wound. But Dorfgel held his other arm and was pulling him up. "We need cover! Come on, over there!" Kordo stumbled to his feet. Somehow the pain seemed to be growing, and he began to feel dizzy. He gritted his teeth, annoyed. Sword and stone, was he to succumb to a mere arrow? His eyes grew misty, and his feet suddenly felt like lead. He smelled the earth, and realized he had fallen again, flat on his face. Dorfgel's voice seemed so far away. "Is there a cleric? We need a cleric here!" As Kordo's thoughts drifted he remembered the Paragon. Merely thinking of her made him feel stronger. Ah yes, if they would lay him nearby, he could bathe in that powerful aura and emerge, rejuvenated. Somehow, his eyes must have closed, and so he snapped them open. He had to tell Dorfgel to take him to the Paragon. But instead his eyes met someone else, startling him into a clearer consciousness than he would have liked. A man hovered above him, hair tied in multiple strands, interwoven with twigs and vines, and bird's feathers decorated his collar. "Poison, and strong - for it to affect a dwarf in this way," the man said, crouched alongside. "Are you a cleric? Can you cure him?" That was his master. "I'm a Healer, and yes - I can. Help me turn him over. I need to touch the wound, draw it from him." The man's voice sounded soft, like footfalls in a meadow. Kordo felt himself being manhandled, and again gritted his teeth as he felt movement in the arm below his wounded shoulder. Poison. How humiliating. But then, after a moment, it seemed as though the tight belt that had gripped his lungs had eased off a little, and he began to breathe more easily. He felt someone pull out the arrow, the accompanying pain minimal, and gradually, the dizziness left him, and he could feel the man's fingers, pushing at the flesh on his shoulder. "There." Kordo shifted around to look, and frowned. For the man's face had turned as gray as a rock! Dorfgel was beside them both. "Healer, what ails you?" For the first time, Kordo noticed a large, shaggy white-furred hound sat nearby. It let out a whine and its gray eyes watched the man closely. "Give me a moment," the Healer croaked. Kordo got to his feet and passed a worried glance toward his master. He felt fresh, and as solid as stone, but had he passed the ill effects of the arrow onto this man? He was about to ask if there was something they could do, when the strange man let out a sigh, and Kordo watched the color return to his cheeks. The man shook his head and got to his feet - he was another tall one, but this time as skinny as a reed.The dog leapt to its feet and joined him, wagging its tail. It looked big enough to ride. Man and dog together looked quite fearsome. The man grinned. It lit up his eyes, which at once gave Kordo a very different impression - one of benevolence, and optimism. "Well my dwarven brothers, now we are all feeling better, I had best move on, for I hear the cries of the injured, and that is a call I can not ignore under any circumstances. I recommend that you stick to the trees, and be mindful of those arrows." And with that, he was gone, before Kordo even had chance to say thank you. "Did he absorb the poison? Take it into himself?" he asked Dorfgel as they began their journey back to the edge of the battlefield once more. The elder dwarf shrugged. "Yes, I certainly thought as much." "But could it have killed him? He said himself that it was strong." "Aye, that he did. But he would have cured you at all costs - even if it meant sacrificing part of himself. That is their way." Kordo looked back, regretting further his missed chance to say thank you. "Come on," chided Dorfgel. "By the time we get back I'm sure there will be lots more to fix. For that is our way. That is our task." "I never thanked him," lamented Kordo, stepping quickly after his master as they set off back to the tent. "Well, if you want to thank someone," the elder dwarf called back, "thank Alemi!" |
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