Blind he was then and old beyond measure.  But strong was his voice and carrying.  And as he spoke, his voice seemed to reach into every crevice of the Silver dwellings and every member of the clan—no matter where they were or how old they were—heard him as he spoke.  Motes of light emanated from his lips and settled on the Silver dwarfs, binding them and all their descendants to their Fate. 

Eyes of Gold spoke of two who would come.  One of Dragons and one of Love.  Told he how she of Dragons would rule for a thousand years.  Of how another would come, on wings of horse; trusted friends beside her to show her of Dragons what was, what might have been and what will be.  And spoke he of the Silver Clan’s fate—to find and free the Horse of Wings and to join in the battle against darkness.  And, should the light prevail, one of theirs would be the Dwarven King.  And when he spoke his last word, when the last mote of light settled on the last Silver babe, Eyes of Gold died.

But the Prophecy lived on in the minds and bodies of the Silver Dwarves.  No longer could they stay in their corner of the Dwarven Hills, so compelled were they to search for the Horse of Wings.  And, as a result, silver craftsmen arose amongst them—craftsmen whose names are famous throughout the lands and whose work is sought by all.  Thanks to their fame, the Silver Clan grew in wealth and numbers and power.  And still they searched for the steed of wings.  For they could do naught else.

Finally, in the very bowels of the earth, in an evil place surrounded by curses and creatures most vile, the Silver Clan found the magical beast.  They invaded that wicked place and many of them were slain.  In the last battle; a battle before the very doors of the winged one’s prison, a dwarven maid, her heart breaking to see so many of her people slain, rushed to the door and, not checking for curses, opened it.  As she did so a curse fell upon her—that no child of hers should live past nine summers and nine winters.

Merrygold was the dwarven lady who rushed to the door and this young lad, Diamond, sleeping so peacefully by her side has seen eight summers and nine winters now.  And that is why they were traveling to Crownfell.  For they had heard tell of a wise man there, a human perhaps but a wise man nonetheless.  A man who might be wise enough to break the curse under which they labored.

Silversmith stopped and drew breath, looking at his son.  Gannon and Silversteine sat quietly, both of them lost for words.  Starsunwind looked at the Dwarf in her unblinking way but, thought Silversteine, with great pity in her eyes.

Finally, just to break the silence that had grown too long, Silversteine asked, “Who is this man you are seeking?”

“Derryl the Bard,” Silversmith replied.

The rest of this story is at:

Part One: Be Careful What You Wish For

Part Two: The Journey Begins

Part Three: A Friend of the Forest

Part Four: The First Battle