Interlude - The Sleeper Awakens
The Sleeper Remembers
The Sleeper remembers youth and vitality.
Hammer’s Echo was the only real home I’d ever known. The only home I remember. But, there are other memories…faded memories…I remember. I remember the First Hammer standing over me. "This young one is favored by Moradin. The essence of the Lightbringer shines through him. He must make the journey.”
The prayers continued...but the memory fades.
Did I bid farewell to my parent? I don’t think so. They tell me they died…consumed by flame at the hands of twisted men soon after I took my first steps. What of my sisters and brother? Gone to fight the irresistible tide of the Shadow; never to return. On what forgotten fields do their moldering bones lay? They say Mother promised me to the church...promised me to the service of the light. By her death, she delivered.
The Sleeper Learns
A long journey followed, I think. Only 3 winters I had, but I remember. Ah, the Master Smith - a hard, gruff sort named Garrett. He taught me, molded me and, perhaps, even loved me, after a fashion.
A Stern one he was, but there was gentleness. For years, there were only chores – cleaning and polishing and mopping. Then came the lessons…the secrets of fashioning bronze and iron…the secrets of creating steel. During those years, Garrett fashioned me. I crafted many weapons for him and he taught me to use them all – axe, sword, even bow. But the hammer…oh, what love for the hammer!
It was my favorite. Hard and strong, like me! I miss the hammer. No apprentice could stand before me when I wielded the hammer and I even bested those that were soon off to the wars. I grew strong and fierce. A fire burned in my belly. I wanted to go to war too. I wanted to kill the humans and avenge the death of my father and mother. When I told Garrett, his laughter thundered through the forge. “Your day will come, lad!”
On my 30th name day, he gave me my first tattoo - The Hammer and Anvil. He told me that I was special, and I was to be given over to the Church to learn the Mysteries of Moradin and the Way of the Light. I was reluctant to go, but I had no choice.
I was apprenticed to Brecon MacArto, 2nd Hammer of the Shrine. Garrett had taught me to fight, but Brecon taught me to think and to learn. I remember sullen resentment, gradually overcome by my tutor. I learned my letters, both the runemarks of my people and Imperial script. I learned the Mysteries of Moradin and secrets of Light and Shadow. What began as a hateful chore gradually became peace – the peace of Moradin.
I found my place. I was a Defender of the Light. I didn’t want to kill all the humans…just those tainted by the Shadow. I wanted to defeat the Shadow, to sweep it from the lands; and I could! The Light of Moradin burned strong within me! I was chosen by Moradin to perform miracles. I could heal and smite and cure and bless; the miracles of Moradin were without end. I came to trust, respect and love the Church.
We received sporadic news from the war. It was never good. The war spread…they called it a ‘Race War’, Brecon and the others. Genocide was the word they used, whispering in hushed tones. I think they tried to protect from the news, tried to shelter me, but I heard it all. Every season I asked permission to leave and join the fight above. Brecon merely smiled a sad smile and shook his head. The fire burned hot within me, I knew that I could best the Shadow, if only they would give me the chance!
I remember the year of my 51st name day. A strange traveler came to Hammer’s Echo…a traveler bringing grim news. Volakir he was named by Owain Macvar, the First Hammer. I remember thinking that Volakir was a strange name for a child of stone. His features elude me, save for the eyes. There was fire in those eyes.
The First Hammer welcomed Volakir, yet flinched at the strange traveler’s touch. The First Hammer took counsel with Volakir and remained closeted for three passings of Moradin’s Favor. I remember the First Hammer’s face – pale with worry. He gathered us in the Worship Hall and told us that we were commanded to a dangerous ritual. He commanded that we ask no questions, but accept the Will of Moradin.
The First Hammer and Volakir led us from the Worship Hall; one by one. They bade us arm and armor ourselves for battle, then placed us at various places about Hammer’s Echo, requesting silence and attention. Nearly a score they placed before they came to me. They placed me just beyond the Second Hall of Meditation. I remember Volakir’s words and piercing eyes, “Never forget that you walk in Moradin’s Light.”
A short time later, Words of power echoed through the halls. My mind was filled with fire--and I'm not ashamed to admit it; I knew fear. After the words echoed their last, all was silent. I tried to move, but found I could not. I tried to open my eyes, but found I could not. I was trapped, I couldn't even scream. I was aware, but a prisoner in my own flesh. Stone, I may as well have been stone. Time passed, and I drifted to sleep. How much time, how many dreams?
The Sleeper Dreams
Am I dead? Am I a ghost? Cursed and anchored to my mortal shell? My mind flies and I "see" time and events. Are they visions of what's to come? Are they visions of things past? Are they dreams? More nightmares - is this hell? I see a world at war. I see darkness and bones - skeletons of elves, gnomes, halflings, and humans.
No more Empire. No more treaties. No more walking arm in arm against the Shadow. I dream of darkness and of a world in chaos. Is all the light gone; abandoning the world to its fate? A sense of watching and waiting permeates my being – what am I waiting for? When the chaos ends? When the people stand as one and the darkness is in retreat? The light came and went. The darkness is upon the world again. There is still light and where there is light, there is hope. Like a hammer, the light beats away the darkness. Will it be enough? There is so much darkness and so little hope. I must have faith. I must believe Moradin has a plan. So much time...so many dreams.
How long have I dreamed? Eons? Centuries? Decades? Years? Weeks? Days? Hours? Minutes? Seconds? It matters not. I no longer have a sense of time. If I awoke, would I find that I was asleep for an eye’s blink? If I awoke, would I find naught but dust and ruin and memory?
Faces float before me. Strange faces…faces I have never seen with my now blind eyes. Yet they are familiar all the same. They come again and again, invading my dreams. Are they enemies? I think not, for the taint of the Shadow is absent. Why then, do I see them? It must be Moradin’s Will. Blessed Moradin, Blessed Light, Blessed Dreams and Blessed Sleep. Thank Moradin it has become so hard to think. This sightless, soundless, tasteless, touch less prison, it is enough to drive one mad. Perhaps it already has.
Blessed sleep. The sleeper remembers, learns, dreams, but mostly...By the Hammer's Light, mostly…the Sleeper sleeps.
The Sleeper Awakens
The voice calls to me again…pulling me back from a rare dream. I was dreaming of the faces again…they seemed close enough to reach out and touch. The voice is familiar and I must obey it. Whose voice is it? A voice that belongs to strange eyes…Volakir is calling me home!
!
!
