Emerald Dragons: The Dwarf, The Imp, and The Eye

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.
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?
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.
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.
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.

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.
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. "In the name of Pantheon, none shall interrupt these proceedings, so shall I swear." 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.

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. "Grant me this request, God of mine and God of the Afterlife, Hear my plea and save this child's life!" 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.

XXXXXXXX

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. .

Suddenly the strange creature leapt up and ran to Bertram. Bowing deeply he squeaks. "Master the priest is here." 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.

"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?" 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.

Bertram bows then slowly forms a response, letting his mind sort possible answers. "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." 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.

"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."

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...

"For THAT the deal may be struck.
Your soul is mine."

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.

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.

"See Gimp, he will do fine..."

Things suddenly seem . . . . Balanced . . . . . complete . . . . . . . . . At rest.

The Old Man smiles again and speaks. "Bertram Trothgard, You have much to learn, but you have time and I will teach you, after all you are mine now."

Without thinking Bertram stumbles out the only thing he can think of...."Am I, well Lord, am I dead now?"

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.

"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.

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.

Two you will suffer none to elongate their natural life spans by magic or other wise unless granted by me.

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.

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.

Now open your hand and look at my mark and return with the girl.”

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.

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!" Then trying to recall what little he knew of religions beyond his own, Milo looked upon Bertram with respect, "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." Milo sheathed his sword, and sat cross-legged, waiting, hoping to learn from the more experienced cleric.

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. "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." 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. </nowiki>
 

This was originally published February 06, 2006 at [1] by Mark Hammonds