For many ascended, recallin’ life before ascension can be a hard and daunting task. Memories may flood in at one time, or be choppy at best. Sometimes memories are recalled from the scent of a flower carried in the breeze of the forest, or the touch of cold steel in their ‘hands while others relive their past lives in a flurry of vivid dreams, replayin’ over and over again like a bad case of déjà vu. For me, I’m surprised at exactly how much I do remember of my life cos it’s so clear to me, it’s like I never died but kept living.
I grew up the only daughter of a very wealthy and established dwarven family in a small city deep inside the mountains. Me father was head miner of our little city and was an extremely proud man. His family had lived within the mountains for centuries and was one of the first settlers of the city, helping to establish it into the wonder it was when I was born. Me mum came from a similar family with just as long a history within the mines and mountain. Her family, as the stories were told, found the first cache of precious metals and gems and helped to establish the mining camp into a city capable of more than simply supportin’ life, but providin’ a comfortable and safe haven for us dwarves.
Both mum and Dodda came from large families with many sisters and brothers, so it was natural for them to expect the same for themselves. And they desired to have a house full of children to pass on old, sacred dwarven customs and the art of mining the riches of the land and forging and crafting it into something truly magnificent. Unfortunately, mum was cursed while courting Dodda.
Before agreeing to marry, mum was finishing her studies at the Magician’s College. She was head of her class, a brilliant mage who could perfect the most difficult of spells easily and effortlessly. Her displays were well-known and talked about, which was to be expected of her given her family and status within the city. Being dwarves, our first honor was to Tavril and the Earth for providing us, but as women it was almost a forbidden offense to go into the mines to bring back the ore or gems. A dwarven woman had few options in life: she could marry a good man and support him in the homestead, caring for the hearth and home and bearing him many children, as many dwarven women chose to do. If she did not wish to pursue that future, she was permitted by our customs to enter into a magical arts academy to benefit the people by offering safety, protection and defense. Yet very few women were allowed to do this because they must be able and willing to show they have the Gift.
The Gift is a blessing of Tavril, the sacred god of the dwarves and the Earth. It is said that Tavril made the dwarves of the Earth, molded into their image from the Earth of the mountains. As Tavril worked, she blessed only a few of her creations by placing a special emerald inside their hearts. The emerald was Tavril’s gift to them that would allow them to speak to her and allow them to attune to her through the rock and Earth. When the first dwarves were created, Tavril made them a special promise to never leave them. When the dwarves felt lost or alone, she instructed them to speak with the Blessed, the dwarves she made with the emerald, and they could provide reassurance and guidance. The Blessed were obviously very important to the dwarven people and they were held in high regard. Some became priests within their clans, leading the people in worship to Tavril, while others found the bond with the Earth a tremendous force and used this insight to help the people create a better life through the magical bond as mages. Over time, the Blessed joined clans of dwarves around the lands and passed their gift from Tavril onto their heirs. In our small clan, my mum was a descendent of a Blessed. Though her family claims the ancestor was one of the first made by Tavril, there was no denying mum’s gift and the entire clan knew she was destined for greatness among our people.
While pursuing her studies, she was courted by many young dwarven men. She was as beautiful as she was smart and it wasn’t any wonder why so many dwarven men fell to their knees before her. My mum was a kind soul, and she loved them all, but there were only two who truly captured her heart, Dodda and another, Lovictan. Lovictan was with her in school and was another heir of a Blessed, his family being almost as old as mums. Lovictan was madly, deeply in love with mum, and his passionate advances were powerful. Mum said she loved him, but he was bitterly jealous of any man who would dare to speak with her. He put her onto such a pedestal, she’d explain, that in his eyes there were few who were worthy enough of her attention. Lovictan was an unpopular dwarf by many, mostly due to his belief that Tavril did not seek to interbreed the Blessed with plain dwarves. He was obsessed with the possibility of creating children that were touched doubly by Tavril’s special gift. Mum was scared by his obsession. She also told me once that he smelled and looked funny and wouldn’t have been a good dad, which I thought was a bit funny since Dodda always kind of smelled, too. Anyway, she refused Lovictan over and over again.
When mum wasn’t fending off Lovictan’s advances or busy with her studies, she would spend her downtime at her favorite tavern with her mates from the College. The tavern was a big and busy place in our small city and many dwarves would congregate after a hard day’s work, either in the mines, at the forges or from the school. Many nights were loud, bustling and boisterous. Mum said she caught Dodda off-guard one night as he was bellying up to the bar to buy another round for his mates and she to buy an extra flagon of wine. Dodda was a few year’s older than she, but she said she saw the twinkling sparkle in his gray eyes and she knew then there was something special about him.
I don’t think Dodda really changed much in the time he courted mum to my first memory of him. For a dwarf, Dodda was tall, standing at almost a full 5 feet tall. He always seemed larger than life to me, with the strength of an ox and the heart of a lion. Dodda was like an unofficial politician, but he never aspired to be anything more than a miner who could swing an axe. Whenever the city needed warriors to fight, Dodda was there leading the troops. He was a fine man who had earned a lot of respect from all who knew or knew of him. It’s little wonder, then, that Lovictan was so jealous when he heard Dodda was officially courtin’ mum.
One night, the sneaky-cuss crept through the city and found mum and Dodda alone under the willow tree. Mum said it was a special night, even if it were the night she was cursed. She used to tell me how the stars shined just for her and Dodda, the cool air smelled sweet of fresh honeysuckle and there was a general calm. Just as they were settlin’ in for a nice night together, Lovictan appeared and cursed mum in a jealous rage. Dodda defended her as best he could, but he was no match for Lovictan’s magic. He was a twisted and cruel man, not the same as they both had known, and he blasphemed something terrible onto them.
For years, mum and Dodda tried for a family with no luck. Neither was sure what had happened, whether it were mum who could hold no child, or Dodda who couldn’t give her none. Mum used to always cry when she told me this story and I remember the giant tears would swell in her eyes. Dodda would always look at me and smile warmly. I’m not sure just how many years, but after visitin’ with the priests they were able to have me, but that was all.
Dodda always wanted a boy, but ‘e got me instead. He wanted a miner, someone who could follow innis footsteps and take his ax and pick and mine a name out for ‘isself. But since I was a girl, he couldn’t have none of that. ‘Girls,’ ‘e would say, ‘Are not meant to be in the deep mines haulin’ rocks and dirt!’ But that never stopped me from sneakin’ off into the mines behind ‘im, tryin’ to find what was so special about the earth. I remember me first time I ventured off into one of Dodda’s mines and how frightenin’ it was, yet it intrigued me. But that’s another story for another time, over maybe another pint.
I remember so much of them both, and I miss them so much, too. I could really use them right about now and I wish the Vigil had picked them instead of me. I don’t think I will ever understand what they were meanin’ behind bringin’ me back. I was and maybe still a right prissy little brat! In school, I remember I used to always play pranks on the boys because they was always slower tha’ me and it was a tonna fun ta make ‘em nervous when they’d look down an’ see a giant pair o’ earthen hands clamped ‘round their ankles. Or when we studied lightening, that was my favorite unit, though the teachers probably didn’t think so!
All of that, those memories of that before life, that’s all they is now, memories. I died brutally, and some say a bit too young, tryin’ to defend our lands. Ye kin see jus’ how well I did doin’ that job, eh? It just’ boggles me mind tryin’ ta think of what the Vigil was thinking. Did Tavril ‘ave somethin’ to do with it, since I’m descended from a Blessed? Was it cos I was so young? I don’t know if I will ever find out and I donno if I really want to. I miss me mum and Dodda, more than anything else, but fer whatever reason I’m ‘ere now.
When I think about what the Vigil has prophecied I get chills down spine. I was always the best in class, jos’ like mum, and since the rifts entered the world, the energy is changed and different, sometimes a lot more powerful than before. When I feel it surge in me, it fills me completely, it takes the sad memories away and I think of only the power inside me, ready to bend to me will. I’ve become stronger since I was Ascended, and I think I like it.
