The Mine Lord: A Dwarven Survival Base-Builder

The prospect of striking back against the ürsi stirred them to eager labor, and what Yorvig feared might have been the work of two days proved only the labors of one, so that at sundown all was prepared. Even Onyx ceased her labor on her chamber and chiseled a cover for the chute to the Lower Adit with Khlif while the rest prepared the new chamber doors.

From inside, Yorvig undid the bracings of the Lower Adit door and pushed it ajar, enough that he hoped it would be noticed but only just. They drew up their ladder behind them, slid the cover in place over the chute and ladened it with stones.

Until now the ürsi had always approached from riverwards or from up the dell, so there was no way the dwarves could conceal themselves near the tower. On the southern slope of the dell, not far from where they had once found the beehive, there remained a half-charred old pine trunk lying on its side atop a mound of soil. Arrayed in a row behind it clutching their weapons, the dwarves could not be seen except if the ürsi came over the ridge behind them. There was a gap between the log and stone that would allow one of the dwarves to peer through and spy the Low Adit.

They hoped for a cloudless night, but it was not so—not quite. High rags of cloud scudded across the sky, bringing with them shadows that passed over the dell in quick succession. But if the ürsi came, they would know.

The minutes drew on with excruciating slowness. It was not easy for a group of six dwarves to lie still and silent, without work for hands or labor to focus their minds. They had to elbow first Khlif and then Sledgefist awake to stop their snoring.

Six of them waited, not the eight that had first wanted to come on this attack. Onyx and Greal remained in the High Adit tunnels.

Yorvig had overheard Greal and Onyx arguing in her unfinished chamber. They had gotten loud enough that their voices carried to him as he passed through the main drift.

“You need to stay here,” Greal said with an edge. Yorvig slowed to a halt.

“Am I not stronger than an ürsi?” It was Onyx. “It is not for you to decide.”

“I am telling you to stay.”

“You are not my husband.”

“I’m your eldest brother.”

“The claim of eldest does not seem to have much weight in this claim,” Onyx retorted.

Greal was silent, but Yorvig felt like he could hear his red face from out in the adit.

With a few quick strides, he came to the edge of the chamber entrance and found that there was no actual door yet for him to knock on.

“Chargrim,” he said, announcing himself.

There was a moment of silence before Onyx responded:

“Enter.”

Chargrim rounded the corner of the gap and passed into Onyx’s chamber. He looked around at the work. She’d gotten quite close. He had never checked before, leaving her to her privacy. He didn’t want to be there, now.

“What is it, Chargrim?” Greal asked. His face was flushed, indeed.

“I was looking for you both,” Yorvig asked. “You’re both staying to hold the High Adit. We need to make sure we can retreat if anything goes awry, and we can’t leave the bridge down or it may make the ürsi suspicious. You have to be ready to let us back in if we need to flee, or to hold come what may.”

“Why us?” Onyx asked.

“Everyone wants to strike a blow,” Yorvig said. “Everyone wishes to revenge. And so we will, all of us, by fulfilling our duties.”

“And you pick those duties,” Greal muttered.

“I do."

“Why us?” Onyx asked. There was steel in that tone and in those eyes. Yorvig forced himself to meet her gaze and hold it. He felt like a rank gilke, playacting a hero of old in his family stonehold. He knew what she was asking, and why. The answer was as she thought; it was because of her. He wouldn’t deny it. Nor would he answer her plainly. There was no use in an argument.

“Why not? Are you not a maid of this claim, to carry out duties as given?” He forced himself to raise an eyebrow and yet hold her gaze.

There was a slight movement behind her veil, as if she was setting her jaw, but she did not reply. Yorvig broke the tension by turning to Greal.

“We will leave shortly. Be ready to close the bridge after us.”

With that, he left.

Though he would not say it, he was leaving Onyx precisely because she was a maid. Not that she could not crush an ürsi’s skull. A dwarf-maid was stronger than most human men, for dwarven sinew was built of sterner stuff. In contest with an ürsi, though they were wirey and strong after their fashion, it came more to speed, aim, numbers—to skill and swiftness in battle. And none of them had trained skill at arms. It was not for that reason at all that she stayed.

The real reason was because if Onyx was with them, he would be thinking about her. He would think about her as they rushed across the dell. He would think about her if they fought skull to skull with the foul beasts. If he grappled for his life, he would wonder after her safety. And so would the rest of them.

It was not her fault, but he could not have it. They must go into this battle with her safe above, unable to be a distraction. As for Greal, it was just his sad luck.

Minutes turned into hours. Based on their observations over the previous nights, the ürsi seemed to come around either early after sundown or late before dawn. It seemed it would be late that night, if ever. Khlif chewed on his gnarled fingernail. Shineboot had the best eyes and kept watch through the gap. Hobblefoot kept watch behind them in case the ürsi circled. And Yorvig waited, lying on his back, staring up at the clouds racing across the night sky. There was no wind in the dell, but there must have been up there in that region of vapors beneath the jeweled stars.

Shineboot’s whole body stiffened, and Yorvig knew they'd come even before the dwarf grabbed his shoulder. Yorvig twisted around and only barely kept himself from poking his head up over the log and looking down the dell. The others, also aware of the sudden motion in Shineboot and Yorvig, fought the same urge.

“How many?” Yorvig whispered.

Shineboot held up two fingers. He peered through the gap, not speaking as the others waited in agonizing silence for any news at all.

“Well?” Sledgefist asked. Shineboot waved his hand at him to be patient. At length, he spoke.

“They’ve gone,” he said.

“What?”

“They went up to the door, motioned at each other, and then they left. At least I think so. They went over the embankment.”

“Shit on them,” Sledgefist said. “At least we can go back and sleep, now.”

“No,” Yorvig said. “We wait.”

“Why?”

“There were only two of them.”

“Right.”

“So if I were them, I’d go back and get others.”

Sledgefist thought about it, then shrugged.

“So we wait?”

“If they’re not back by dawn, we go sleep.”

They each went back to their solitary waiting. But it was less than an hour later, still a full hour before dawn, when the ürsi returned. Shineboot waved to them and rolled onto his side so he could use his two hands to hold up eight fingers. Shineboot looked back through the gap. Their whole bodies were taut as harp strings.

“They’re going in!” Shineboot hissed. “Wait. Wait. . . One of them’s stayed out. It’s waiting by the door, crouched down.”

Shit, Yorvig thought. He’d have done the same, leaving one out as a watcher in case something happened. The watcher could call the others back.

“Let’s go!” Sledgefist said, and started to rise, but Yorvig grabbed his shoulder and held him down.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Let them get further in.”

The minutes had dragged before, but now seconds felt like torture. Yorvig’s heart pounded. The others watched him, barely blinking.

How long? How long to wait? He imagined the adit. They’d come to the closed stone doors first. They'd check them somehow. Maybe they wouldn’t pay much attention to the hatch over their heads. They'd continue on slowly and come to the chute with the ladder down to the lower diggings. Would they climb down? Would they be there by now?”

He hesitated one more minute, feeling inexplicably like he had to pee.

“Go,” he said.

He didn’t remember leaping over the log. They were all charging down the dell. Yorvig had told them before not to shout, and somehow they kept their mouths shut, even him. With a shudder up his calf, his leg gave out, and he scraped his knee as he went down on it, but he planted the end of his walking hammer and pulled himself back up, only a few paces behind the others. It felt long and short all at once, but they reached the adit. Warmcoat and Khlif put their shoulders to the stone door and pushed it shut with a thud. Dwarves always made their doors open outward if any sense of defense was on their minds. They set their doors into a stone frame so that it could not swing further inward, leaving grooves for the passage of air as desired. This meant an enemy had to pry it outward to enter, which was much harder than ramming inward. If it was blockaded from without, dwarves inside could always break it or dig another way.

“Where did the kulkur go?” Sledgefist asked, looking around outside the door.

“I think it ran away,” Shineboot said. They were all breathing heavily after their sprint.

“Ran inside or ran away away?”

“I. . . I’m not sure. It was right here before.”

“Keep an eye out,” Yorvig said. “Shineboot and Sledgefist, go to the embankment and make sure nothing comes up.”

“Gah, I smell it,” Sledgefist said as he hurried on. They all could, the foul stench lingering in the night air.

The dwarves had not prepared anything with which to barricade the door, for they did not want to change anything to raise the ürsi’s suspicions, but now, as Yorvig and Khlif leaned against the door in case the ürsi press it from within, Hobblefoot and Warmcoat lifted stones and began to pile them up. After a time, Khlif and Yorvig were able to join and before the grey dawn broke they had a pile of rock before the door such that nothing could force it open from within. Yorvig made sure water could still escape beneath the rocks. If the spring backed up to the chute, the whole lower workings would flood. Pumping a mine like that was difficult and often led to collapses.

“Do you think that they could get it off its hinges?” Khlif asked.

“Not without the right tools,” Warmcoat said. “Not with double-slot hinges like that.”

Getting the door off its hinges meant they might be able to tip the top of the door outward.

“Let's pile more, just to be safe,” Yorvig said. "And keep an eye out."

They covered the door to the very top in loose rock and added even more in the spirit of safety before they all went back to the tower. Onyx and Greal lowered the bridge at their approach. They tramped across the rough timber, weary yet proud.