The Second Generation

“Yes,” answered the dwarf gravely, smoothing his beard. “It’s called Centrifug’s Force or some such thing. The gnomes explained it to me.”

“Great!” Palin muttered. “Gnomes!”

Drawing a deep breath, the young man lifted the hammer. A groan of pain escaped his lips, sweat stood out on his forehead from the strain, and he heard several of the women giggle. Gritting his teeth, certain that he had ruptured something inside him, Palin began to turn in a circle, the hammer in his hands. He was startled to notice that Dougan was right.

The momentum of his motion made the hammer seem lighter. He was able to lift it higher and higher. But the handle began to slip in his sweaty palms....

“He’s losing it! Get down! Everyone!” Tanin called out, falling flat on his face. There was a clattering of spears as the women followed suit.

Even the black dragon—seeing Palin spinning about in the center of the room, out of control, the hammer starting to glow a fiery red—crouched on the floor with a whimper, attempting to fold its wings over its head. Only the dwarf remained standing, his face split in a broad grin.

“I... can’t... hold ... it!” Palin cried and, with a gasp, he let the hammer fly.

The young mage fell to his knees, in too much pain and exhaustion to even bother looking to see what happened. But everyone else in the room, lying flat on the floor, raised their heads to watch the hammer.

Round and round it whizzed, flying over the heads of the women, buzzing over Tanin and Sturm, whisking past the cowering dragon. Round and round it flew and, as it flew, it began to rise into the air. Dougan watched it placidly, his hands laced across his great belly.

Glowing now a fiery red, the hammer circled higher and higher and, as it rose, the Graygem’s light began to waver in sudden fear. The hammer was aiming straight for it!

“Yes, my beauty,” murmured Dougan, watching the hammer in satisfaction. “You forged it. Now, bring it home.”

Desperately the Graygem sought to dim its light, realizing, perhaps, mat it—was its own power that was drawing the hammer to it. But it was too late. The hammer flew to the Graygem it had helped create as a lass flies to her lover’s arms. There was a shattering sound and a blinding flare of red and gray light, so brilliant that even Dougan was forced to shade his eyes, and no one else could see anything for the dazzling radiance.

The two energies seemed to strive together, the red light and the gray, and then the gray began to dim. Peering upward, tears streaming from his eyes in the bright light, Palin thought he caught a glimpse of a gray, sparkling jewel tumbling from the air to land in Dougan’s hand. But he couldn’t be certain because, at that moment, the red glowing hammer fell from the air as well, plummeting straight down on top of them!

Clasping his aching arms over his head, Palin hugged the floor, visions of his head being split open and his brains splattering everywhere coming to him with vivid clarity. He heard a resounding clang. Timidly raising his head, he saw the hammer, glowing red in triumph, lying on the floor at Dougan’s feet.

Slowly, trembling, Palin stood up, as did everyone else in the room. He was hurting and exhausted; Tanin had to come help him or he would have collapsed. But Palin smiled up at him as his big brother clasped him in his arms.

“My magic’s returned!” he whispered. “If s back!”

“I’m back, too,” said a voice. Glancing around, Palin saw the dragon was gone. In its place, crouched on the floor, his hands over his head, was a thin, middle-aged wizard dressed in black robes. The wizard sat up, staring around him as if he couldn’t believe it. “I’m back!” he cried out joy fully, patting his head and his neck and his shoulders with his hands. “No rabbit ears! No dragon’s breath! No minotaur muscles! I’m me again!” He burst into tears.

“And you lost the bet, dwarf!” the dark-haired beauty cried out suddenly, getting to her feet. “The hammer fell!”

“Yes!” shouted the women. “You lost the bet! The men are ours!”

“Dougan . . .” growled Tanin ominously.

The women were closing in on them, eyes burning with the fire of love instead of the fire of battle.

Raising the hammer over his head, Dougan held up his arms. His face stem, his black eyes flashed as red as the glowing hammer. The voice that spoke was no longer the voice of the dwarf with the flashy clothes, but a voice as ancient as the mountains it had carved, as deep as the oceans it had poured.

“Women!” the god called out in stern tones. “Listen to me! The power of the Graygem over you is broken. Remember now your children and your husbands. Remember your brothers and your fathers! Remember your homes and those who love you and need you!”

One by one, the women looked around in dazed fashion, some putting their hands to their heads, some blinking in confusion.

“Where are we?” asked one.

“Why are we dressed like this?” asked another, staring at the tiger skin.

“How dare you?” cried the blonde, slapping Sturm across the face.