Small Beginnings (10)
"Why? What's wrong? Why are you acting like that?"
"The inside of that bastard's skull is charred black... Nothing left inside..."
Ukun slumped to the ground, unconsciously pulling out a floral-patterned handkerchief to wipe the nosebleed streaming from his nostrils.
I roughly wiped the now-dull blade of the Holy Sword on my pant leg and spoke up.
"Don't worry. There's one more."
"What!? You serious!?"
I sheathed the Holy Sword and headed deeper into the forest. Ukun, spotting the dead Gagabur with its jaws agape, yelped in shock and leaped back.
"You killed that thing?! You split the swamp open too—what the hell are you...?"
"Stories later. See if you can harvest the brain fluid first."
Ukun slapped his forehead with a curse and dove headfirst into the creature's maw.
A moment later, his voice echoed from inside, brimming with ecstasy.
"It's here! It's here! I said it's here! Right here!"
We smashed our way into the beast's mouth with the Holy Sword and hammer, pulverizing bone from the inside out until we reached the head. There, its brain revealed itself, giving off a strange, fishy metallic tang.
"This... is the brain...?"
I stared blankly at what I assumed was the brain for a moment. It didn't look like any brain—it resembled a cylindrical mechanical device. About the size of my palm, it was surrounded by thick, black tubes snaking out like veins in every direction.
"Weird-looking thing... Never seen anything like it. How much fluid does it yield?"
"Enough for about one of these vials."
Ukun pulled a small vial from his pocket. Made of copper, it was tiny—barely big enough for a single tomato.
The precious brain fluid from slaying one of these monstrous beasts amounted to just that? No wonder the dwarves hadn't hunted Gagabur to extinction. Valuable as it was, no one would risk the lives it would cost.
"What's it made of, anyway? Copper?"
"Copper and bentonite clay. Doesn't matter how toxic the contents—no leaks."
"That bad, huh?"
"Prolonged exposure kills you."
I let out a sharp yelp at that.
"You're telling me we're running a bathhouse with that shit?! Are you insane?!"
"I'm not! The raw fluid's dangerous, but mix it with other stuff to make Uzarburunt, and it's harmless! You think I'd even consider it otherwise?!"
Hmm... If a dwarf says so, probably true. I dropped it and changed the subject.
"So one vial powers exactly one of those pressure devices you mentioned?"
"Calculations say there might be a bit left over."
"Hm... Yeah... Right..."
I pondered for a second, but my head throbbed too much. "Hurry up and harvest it already."
Being inside the Gagabur's body was making everything ache for some reason.
Ukun pulled a long tool with a pouch attached from his pocket. He prodded and twisted around the brain's edges. Shockingly, the cylinder's top split open like a lid!
"Hmph. Just like the elders described. What a bizarre monster."
"This thing even biological...? Doesn't look it."
At the center of the opened brain sat a small ore, a mix of dark silver and gray.
"That's the fluid...?"
"Technically the core, but we just call it brain fluid. Melts if you take it out."
So that's the stuff that makes Uzarburunt—the perpetual motion liquid. Ukun grabbed tongs from his pocket and glanced at me.
"Step back, Balder. Dangerous."
He carefully extracted it, dropped it into the black vial, and slammed the lid shut. Blood gushed from his nose again as he twisted it tight.
"Hey, your nose."
"Ignore it. Happens every time you handle Gagabur fluid."
"Catching the damn thing sucks, and handling it sucks too. What mad dwarf started this shit?"
"How should I know? Probably stumbled on it mixing fluid with random crap."
"Exactly. Why experiment with brain fluid from a monster that's a bitch to hunt?"
"Same as eating fugu. Fail, fail, fail... until you succeed. That's a dwarf."
Crazy dwarf bastard. Talks shit about his own miners, but damn if the racial pride doesn't pierce the heavens.
"Haha... Show this at the mine, and those smug fuckers who looked down on me'll shut their pieholes. Just you wait, you shits..."
Ukun grinned as he stowed the vial in his bag. I snatched it.
"Hey! What the fuck, you bastard! Careful! It breaks, we're fucked!"
"I killed the Gagabur, and it's for my inn's bathhouse. Mine now. No complaints?"
"Grr..."
Unable to argue logically, Ukun just grumbled.
"So, back to the inn now? Start construction right away?"
"Nah. One more stop."
"Where? The mine?"
"Yep. Uzarburunt needs mixing with other ingredients. And those are all in my workshop."
The sun had passed midday, heading west. Plenty of time before evening.
"Where is it? Can we swing by and make it back for dinner?"
"On the Hell Horse? Should be fine, no detours. Grab the stuff from my workshop and done."
"Then let's move. Late, and the girls'll chew me out."
"Tsk tsk. Innkeeper scared of his own staff..."
Ukun shook his head with a click of his tongue.
"Not scared—considerate, you thick-headed runt. Workshop, huh? Bet it's full of neat stuff."
Ukun's beady black eyes sparkled like a beetle's.
"Damn right! Your jaw'll drop! Stuff you've never dreamed of, kid!"
"Perfect. Wanted to see your skills anyway. I can come in?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah... sure. Come on in. Other dwarves call my shit amateur, but you'll be floored. Heh."
Beaming at the thought of showing off, Ukun urged us on.
"Yeah... let's get out... stomach's churning... Can't stay long."
We escaped the Ulrong Swamp. Leaving the dark, dank, gloomy mire, the summer heat hit us again.
Ukun glared at his filthy clothes and cursed. "Goddamn... Gotta change at the workshop first."
We mounted the Hell Horse and rode for Kazahur Mine.
Kazahur Mine lay in a spur of the Vurn Mountains, northeast from the swamp—a dwarven city. Dwarves cluster in mining cities worldwide, never leaving their birthplace. They only dig new ones if veins run dry or monsters push them out, but that's rare. Their ore-sensing and mining skills are unmatched, and they're ferocious fighters—most monsters don't stand a chance.
Per Ukun, Kazahur was one of the oldest. Meaning it was packed with peak artisans and technicians—the "true dwarven" sort: arrogant, stubborn, deaf to outside views.
Winding through sheer cliffs and rocky outcrops deep into the range, Ukun pointed ahead with a shout.
"There! The mine entrance!"
At the base of a massive crag stood Kazahur's gateway—a perfect square, towering like an ancient temple. The frame brimmed with intricate relief carvings depicting dwarves battling monsters and delving the earth to forge their city.
Broad stairs flanked by ramps bustled with dwarves. Oxen-drawn wagons laden with ore rumbled up the slopes into the mouth. Every dwarf puffed thick pipe smoke.
Easy to forget riding with Ukun, but dwarves were chain-smokers. Yellow teeth, nicotine-stained fingers.
What caught my eye most were the colossal dwarf statues carved into the cliffsides flanking the stairs—one with an axe, the other a hammer. Each big toe rivaled a one-story house.
"Impressive, right? Welcome to Kazahur."
"Incredible... How'd I never know about this place?"
"You do now! Let's go!"
Closer to the entrance, I spotted another detail: holes drilled above the gate. Shooter slits for repelling invaders.
"Plenty more defenses hidden too. Ten thousand troops? A third die approaching, a third at the gate, the rest facing us."
"Three thirds... leaves one guy."
"Ukun Kazahur'll finish him with this hammer. Ha!"
Back in his city with Gagabur fluid (or core) in hand, he was thrilled. Climbing the stairs, he greeted every dwarf he passed.
"Hey, Trakam Kazahur! Where you rushing off to? Hey! Ignoring me? Oh, Umuhr Kazahur! Nice weather, huh? What? Heat fried my brain?"
Most dwarves weren't exactly warm to him. Maybe his obsessive cleanliness made him an outcast. Recalled his rants about mine treatment.
Not outright shunned—just avoided, like a weirdo coworker. Unlike the soap-scented Ukun, every dwarf we met had bushy beards draping their guts, wild tangled hair, and was dust-caked. They reeked of old dust, sweat—gave me a headache.
"They really don't wash... Nose might break..."
"Told you. They think filth's dwarven. Lucky we're tough, or plagues would've wiped 'em."
At the top, burly pipe-smoking dwarves clustered, pointing at the statues and chatting. Ukun waved and called out.
"Greetings, elders."