Back to Toll Dubh

When I awake, all of my companions are crouched around me, glancing worriedly at my figure. For a moment, I wonder if we are all dead. It feels almost surreal to see them all alive, all still breathing.

    But then I see Tyffeon holding an empty phial, note the scraps of slime over them, and I smile at them. I fail to hold back the tears that roll down my cheeks at the same time.

    The emissary defeated, we can now head back to Toll Dubh, Beluacor guiding us through the depths.

    Once again, it takes us several days to cross the most grim part of Gnog Fontalamh. On the way, Tyffeon’s father tames a few monsters to provide us enough mounts. Luckily so, none of the Knockers we rescued is badly injured. The Mimic King has made sure to refrain from eating them. Something tells me that, in the past, Beluacor might have threatened that he would eat it himself if it were to disobey.

    As for Umbrestio, he barely utters a word on our way back. At least he seems to keep no lasting harm, despite he has been stuck in the emissary’s shadow during part of the fight. Comprehensibly so, when we take pauses, he avoids staying close to the other Knockers. Timoria makes sure, though, that he doesn’t lack anything. I guess she feels responsible towards Umbrestio since she protected him back then.

    At last, we leave the depths behind us, reaching the upper part of the dungeon. Seeing us return with Beluacor and their young ones having lately been sent to the depths, no one dares to stop us. Instead, they hurry to warn their ruler.

    Thus, before even reaching the first level of the dungeon, where the village of Toll Dubh is located, we encounter Gobha. He’s accompanied by other Knockers, mostly the elders. Noting the gear they carry with them, I guess that they were about to head to the depths. It must have taken them long, indeed, before agreeing to break the tradition and go down, afraid of what we would do.

“So you dare to come back by yourself, Saintess.” Gobha eyes me with a passively pissed off expression. Taking then a glance at the Knockers accompanying us. “Wasn’t it enough to destroy our precious eggs? Now you disrupt the unfolding of the rite?”

“They had a reason to do that.” Beluacor begins. “The Saintess dared to do what we all feared to. To put an end to the madness, to all the crimes we allowed to happen, again and again, each time we sent our young ones into the depths.”

“The crimes?” Ghoba frowns.

    The Knockers accompanying the ruler exchange a glance. Some genuinely confused, others more conflicted. Little by little, the dwarfs present in the level we stopped at gather around us.

    As Beluacor tells them the truth about the eggs and the beast lurking in the depths of the dungeon, Gobha’s eyes widen in disbelief. More than one pales.

“That can’t be true…” One of the elders mutters.

“That’s impossible.” Gobha brushes it off. “You’re telling me that this kept happening for centuries? No one ever telling the truth? Watching our young ones leave, one after another, heading to a certain death?! My folk isn’t that coward!”

    Of course. Hard to believe, I guess, for those of them who passed the rite of passage back at a time where the beast didn’t show.

    But, before any of us can say anything, it is Umbrestio who steps forward, holding his Chief’s gaze. Much to Gobha’s surprise.

“Before I went to the depths, there’s something that kept confusing me. For… so many years. I can’t remember when I noticed it for the first time.” Umbrestio pauses, glancing to the crowd now gathered around.

    That’s when he spots a familiar face, breathless, who just made his way through the crowd. Their eyes share that same amber colour while his beard is black. Domiteo.

“My father always gave me the impression that something haunted him.” Umbrestio resumes. “He often seemed worried, and for a reason I couldn’t understand there were some things that could easily make him very scared. Like the lack of light. Were it during the day or the night, he always kept a candle lit in his bedroom. I never really paid attention to it. I thought he just kept forgetting to blow it before falling asleep. But, one night, I heard screams coming from his room. It happened when my mother wasn’t at home, so I went to check on him.” Umbrestio’s eyes turn back to Gobha’s. “When I entered, the room was in the dark. I found my father crouched in a corner, begging me to light a candle.”

    No one interrupts him as he continues in a more pained tone.

“But he never wanted to tell me what was wrong. If he didn’t tell me, how could I guess, how could I help him? I’ve never been a smart dwarf… But I wanted him to be happy. That’s when I thought, there was a thing maybe even I could do. When my time would come to go to the depths, if I could find, if I could bring back with me many, many eggs… there would be more to eat at the festival. I thought that would make my father happy. After all, there’s nothing that makes a Knocker happier than to eat one of these pancakes.” Umbrestio trails off, lowering his head. “But… there are no eggs to be found in the depths. I felt lost… I didn’t want to make him sad. So, when I heard the beast’s voice, I did as it asked. For that is what my father wanted me to do, to obey the beast.”

    A shiver.

    A murmur spreads through the crowd.

“Without the Saintess, I would have come back with these eggs but…” He slowly shakes his head. “Now I understand. That wouldn’t have made him happy.”

    Silence.

    Not even Gobha dares to utter a single thing.

“For centuries, your folk have sought to fulfil your gluttony.” I decide to add. “You have been blinded. More and more among you have been caught in their nightmares, and yet no one noticed. Or… have you chased that thought away as soon as it crossed your mind?” I glance at the elders accompanying Gobha, then at him. “At the end of the golden age, you all organised a banquet, didn’t you? You invited the other races, you fetched oh so many eggs from the depths. Those were the last true ones you ate. Now… Look at your people.”

    Not parting my gaze from his, I address the crowd.

“How many? How many among you heard, how many listened to the voice of the dungeon’s beast?”

    At first, no one answers. But the tension is growing, and at last, a first Knocker steps forward.

    A second.

    A third.

    Tens of them step forward, breaking the silence they kept for so long. Gobha and the oldest Knockers stare at them in dismay.

    At last, Gobha lowers his gaze, forcing himself to admit the harsh reality.

    That’s when they begin to shed tears. Some of sadness, for the sons, for the friends they lost. Some of relief, for they know that no one else will ever hear the beast’s voice, for they know the nightmare they shared has now ended.

***

    We’re no longer criminals in this kingdom. So, now that the emissary of the Taint has been vanquished, we can finally take a few days to rest. The healing potions may heal wounds, but they don’t prevent exhaustion.

“What do you plan to ask Chief Gobha?” Tyffeon asks.

“Mmm…”

    We both stand near the fence behind his father’s cottage, observing Beluacor and Timoria. Inside the enclosure, the Tamer tries convincing her to approach a bunch of Langsdorffolks. Monsters akin to plants roaming around on their grey stem. They have as a head numerous red petals pointed up – slightly yellow at their edges – with a big fuzzy ball in their middle.

“‘Better not to tell her that these monsters usually stick their roots into their victims to suck their Health Points.”

“He granted you any request to thank you for defeating the emissary and apologise for his rudeness.” Tyffeon recalls. “It would be disrespectful to decline.”

“I don’t plan to.” I glance at him with a smile. “I just want to take the time to properly think about it.”

    A squeak.

    Timoria has been circled by the Langsdorffolks.

“You really don’t hold any resentment against your father for what he’s done?” I ask Tyffeon as we witness the torture.

“For?”

“The lies, the crimes. Or simply for not having trusted you enough, not telling you what was going on, I don’t know.”

    A pause. Not for Timoria, though.

“The first time I told my father I wanted to leave this place for Tír-nan-cnocc,” Tyffeon explains, “he didn’t protest. Or not openly, at very least. It bothered me a bit. Back then, being aware of the rejection of the Daoine Sidhes for those of them devoid of Lignum magic, I felt excluded for living here. I felt the urge to join them and force them to recognise my value. But, even if my desire to leave was sincere, when my father began to even encourage me to go, I felt rejected. Not even once did he try to hold me back.” He pauses, turning his back to the fence, leaning against it. “Now that I think about it, I guess he tried to protect me.”

“To protect you?” I prompt, feigning ignorance.

“If I had stayed, I would have passed the rite of passage. He must have thought it was better for me to leave.”

    I glance at Tyffeon, about to say something to that, when I hear footsteps approaching.

    Turning around, I catch sight of Gobha’s silhouette. He walks straight to us. Not a rare sight to see him outside of the castle, though. He is that kind of a ruler who walk casually among his folk.

“Ruler Gobha? What brings you here? I hope it isn’t to send me to jail.” I can’t help but add with a smirk.

    He mumbles something inaudible but, in the end, disregards my words.

“Tomorrow, we will celebrate Gebo. I’ve just come to invite you and your companions to the festival myself.”