by JA Andrews
“He didn’t,” Killien answered. “He flew over it on his dragon and landed next to the Sunn Torch. He seems to have developed a taste for the dramatic. Lukas managed to convince the Sunn Torch—or intimidate him—into supporting his cause.”
“Conquering Queensland?”
“What else could unite the clans?” Killien asked. “Lukas also claims he has forces ready to attack Queensland from both Coastal Baylon and Napon.”
Sini’s stomach sank.
“Already?” Alaric asked.
“We’ve seen no sign of any troops,” Roan agreed.
Killien shrugged. “Lukas was convincing enough that the whole Sweep has mobilized.”
“Even the Morrow?” Will asked. “Surely your own clan won’t follow Lukas.”
Killien shifted. “The Morrow are no longer my clan. Somehow our correspondence was discovered, Will. Someone strategically shared parts of it to make it sound like I was a spy for Queensland. A few of my distant cousins incited a riot among my people. I barely escaped with my life.”
“Is Lilit all right?” Sini asked. “And Sevien?”
“My wife and son are fine. We managed to escape to the mountain clans.”
“To Sora?” Will asked sharply.
Killien nodded. “The Morrow have a new Torch, an upstart nephew of mine who must have been bought off by Lukas. He’s groveled before all our enemies, letting them bleed him dry of money and herds, then offered every warrior in our clan to Lukas’s great cause.”
“Killien arrived here five days ago,” Patlon said. “With Horgoth…unavailable, I took the liberty of sending some scouts south and they confirm that more and more Roven forces are funneling into a valley that leads to Gulfind. If they continue to come, a good-sized army will have gathered in the next fortnight.”
“But Gulfind is blocked off,” Roan said. “Our rangers say rockslides block every way into the country, even from the Sweep. There’s no way an army could get through.”
Will frowned. “Why would Lukas lead them into a dead end?”
“Maybe there’s a way through we don’t know about,” Alaric said.
Patlon grunted. “I’ll send more scouts today. We’ll pinpoint where the army is and see where it’s headed.”
Alaric sat back. “If Lukas really has troops from Napon, Coastal Baylon, Gringonn, and the Sweep, Queensland will be overrun.”
Sini’s stomach fell at the words and the room was silent for a moment.
“You have the support of the dwarves,” Douglon stated.
A murmur of dissent rippled down the table. Douglon fixed them all with a glare. “When Mallon came, we hid in our holes and let the humans and elves fight. This time we will not burrow in the dark like cowards. The dwarves will stick their noses out those holes and join the rest of the world.
“I’ve met this newest threat, Lukas. Skinny human. Limps. Likes to kill people. We’re not going to sit by and let him.”
“He can’t get to us,” one of the dwarves protested. “He’s no concern of ours.”
“He has a dragon,” Alaric pointed out.
“Even a dragon can't reach us in here.”
“He doesn't have to reach us,” Douglon said. “All he has to do is raze our planting valleys and massacre our herds. And then what will we eat? Rocks? It’s time that the dwarves stopped pretending they aren’t part of this world.”
“Horgoth still lives,” another dwarf objected. “Our orders come from him.”
Douglon leveled him with a flinty gaze. “As soon as he regains consciousness, he can countermand everything I’m saying. Until then, unless you can produce someone else to stand in his place—and I would kiss you if you could—I’ll be making the decisions.”
Sini glanced down the table. Though there were a good number of scowls, no one objected.
Douglon pointed at Roan. “You speak for Queen Saren?”
Roan straightened and nodded.
“Good. Let’s set up daily runners between Duncave and Queenstown. There is a ridiculously small town halfway there called something stupid like Tall Mountain.” He looked at the humans expectantly.
“High Peak?” Sini offered. That town was so small it only showed on the most detailed maps of the area.
Alaric nodded. “High Peak is about half way.”
“High Peak, Tall Mountain, same thing. Stupid names. Why not just call it Wet Water, or Green Tree?
Sini let out a snort. At Douglon’s irritated look she pointed at Roan. “His father is the Duke of Greentree.”
Douglon sighed. “Humans.” He turned his attention back to Roan. “If you will supply human messengers from Queenstown to High Peak, the dwarves will send one of our own from here to the town. I’ve stayed there often enough that they’re used to dwarves.”
Douglon turned back to Patlon. “Use the Moorwen boys as runners. They’re so proud of winning the tunnel sprints every year, let them put those legs to more use than chasing the Rochkellun girls.”
Patlon raised an eyebrow. “That sounded almost kingly.”
Douglon gave him a dangerous look then turned to face a female dwarf wearing an ornate leather breastplate. “Torgon, how many troops do we have ready?”
“Fifteen hundred,” she said. “A thousand more could be ready within a month.”
“Make it two thousand more. You have two weeks.”
Torgon’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded.
Patlon leaned closer to Douglon. “You would sound more official if you were sitting on the throne.”
Douglon’s brow dropped and he turned toward his cousin. “I’d rather have my beard chopped off. But as soon as you’re in charge, feel free to use it.”
“Me?”
A wolfish grin peeked through Douglon’s beard. “I’m putting you in charge in my place. You, Torgon, and—is Nurthrum around?”
“What do you mean in your place?” Patlon demanded.
Douglon ignored him and waited for an answer.
“Northrum’s here,” Torgon said. “But he’s been retired since returning from the Queen’s court a year ago.”
“Well, rouse the greybeard out of retirement. He’s more hale than the rest of us put together. And smarter. He also knows the humans well enough to not make blockheaded mistakes.
“The three of you will be in charge. Get the troops ready to fight. There’s a storm brewing, and we’ll feel it even here under the mountains. The humans need more fighters, and the elves are…” Douglon blew out a long breath. “The elves aren’t much use at the moment.”
The room fidgeted, the dwarves casting looks between one another.
“I know what you all think of me,” Douglon said. “Trust me when I say that I am the person here who most fervently wishes I was not”—he grimaced—“the next High Dwarf. But you who stay locked up in these tunnels don’t see the world for what it is. It’s time we stepped out and made ourselves useful. At the very least there’s a dragon coming. I can tell you from experience that the Keepers—the best the humans have to offer—are useless against one. Any hope the elves had of beating it died four years ago.” Douglon’s voice didn’t waver, but Sini thought something in him did. “We do not deserve the sacrifice the elves made for the world. Or the sacrifice the humans made trying to protect it. But we bloody well will try to earn some of that now. It’s time the world remembered what the axe blades of the dwarves can do.”
The room stirred with nods and a low rumble of agreement.
“Ah, not to distract from that rousing speech, cousin,” Patlon said, “but what exactly are you going to be doing while we ready the dwarves?”
“I’m going with the Keepers.”
The rest of the room sat in silence for a moment before a roar of dissent rang out.
Patlon raised his hand for silence. “That’s not how being High Dwarf works, cousin.”
Douglon stared at his cousin for a long moment before turning back to the room. “Who here thinks I would run things better than Nurthrum, Pa
tlon, and Torgon working together?”
No one spoke.
“You can’t leave,” Patlon said flatly.
Douglon leveled a gaze at him. “I am breaths away from being High Dwarf. Who’s going to stop me?”
Patlon shifted and glanced at the others. “Your conscience?”
“My conscience is what’s driving all this. You are more than capable of taking care of things yourselves.” Douglon stroked his fingers through his long copper beard. When he spoke again, his voice was resigned. “None of you are any more pleased than I am that I’m about to be High Dwarf. Let it be known there’s a standing reward of a dozen diamonds from the royal vault for anyone who can discover another contender for the throne. I’ll double it if they have a few brains to knock together in their thick skull and have a long, healthy line of children. Until one is found, we all have things to do.
“I’ll stay for a few days until…to see what happens with Horgoth. But those runners better get to Queenstown with news of this entire mess before I do.”
The dwarves stood and headed out of the throne room with a low hum of conversation. Some of them left immediately, some of them congregated into knots. Alaric, Douglon, and Patlon stayed at the end of a table, talking over a map. Will and Killien fell to talking quietly beside Sini.
She leaned her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands.
Lukas had gone back to the Sweep and sought an alliance with the people he’d despised. Her eyes felt gritty from the little sleep she’d gotten. How could he have come to align himself with everything she would stand against? The last hope that she knew him crumbled away. Whoever Lukas had become, it wasn’t someone she recognized.
“You’ve seen Sora?” Will interrupted her thoughts. She glanced over to find the Keeper looking hesitantly at Killien.
Killien nodded. “You’d better go find her soon. She’ll kill both of us for not telling her you’re here.”
Will started. “She’s here?”
Killien laughed. “Of course she’s here. Do you think I could find Duncave on my own? She’s been pining for you non-stop. It’s made her even less fun than usual.”
“I have not been pining over anyone,” Sora said from behind them.
Will spun around.
Sini turned to see the ranger. “Sora!” Like Killien, Sora looked tired, and one of her hands was bandaged.
Despite Sora’s words, a smile creased her face and after a heartbeat of stunned silence, Will shoved himself up from the table and wrapped his arms around her.
She returned the hug and buried her face in Will’s shoulder.
“I thought you’d…” Will said, still holding her tightly. “I was afraid…I didn’t…”
Sora pulled a little away from him so she could see his face, and touched the braids in his beard. “I remember a more eloquent man.”
Will laughed and stepped back. He took her bandaged hand gently. “Are you all right?”
“She’s fine,” Killien interrupted. “I’m the one with the terrible leg wound.”
“You twisted your ankle,” Sora said, not taking her eyes off Will. “The only terrible thing is your constant whining about it.”
Killien grinned at them. “I still don’t really understand you two.”
“I do,” Sini said, standing up.
Sora took her hand back from Will and gave Sini a hug. “I heard a female human was here trying to heal Horgoth,” Sora said. “I was hoping it was you.”
Sini set her hand on Sora’s bandage and cast out. There was a deep cut along the back of her hand. Sini pulled some energy from the fire and funneled it into the wound, drawing it together. The vitalle tingled along her fingers, but it didn’t take much.
Sora stretched her hand and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve gotten better.”
“It’s too bad Horgoth’s problem isn’t a cut,” Sini said quietly.
“So,” Will interrupted, taking Sora’s hand back. “You were pining for me?”
Sora raised an eyebrow. “No.”
It was such a familiar expression and tone that Sini grinned. “Will’s been pining for you.”
“And moping and fretting,” Alaric added. “It’s nice to see you Sora.”
She gave him a nod.
“They have no idea what they’re talking about,” Will said. “How long are you here? Why are you here?”
“I’m finished with my clan,” she answered. “It took a lot longer than I thought. When the old holy woman died, there was no one to take her place. Her replacement was only fourteen, and I just ended up drawn into doing…everything.”
“That’s what happens,” Douglon grumbled. “It’s dangerous to even look at the throne. There are forces waiting to drag you into it.”
Will ignored him. “But how did you and Killien get here?”
“I found them,” Patlon said. “It had been so long since either Sora or Killien had sent any messages that when Horgoth broke his leg a fortnight ago, it seemed like a good reason to make myself scarce.” He sighed. “I thought I’d just be avoiding some work, I didn’t realize I’d be missing his last days.”
“I was chased out of the Morrow,” Killien said, “And they followed me to Sora’s clan. We hid my wife and son there, and Sora and I drew away the Roven who were after me.”
Patlon grinned. “When I found them, they were surrounded by rangers. Got a good scuffle out of it and brought them into Duncave.”
Douglon called Patlon and Alaric’s attention back to his map. Will and Sora drew away slightly from the others.
Still at the table, Killien cleared his throat. “It looks like your time with the Keepers has treated you well, Sini.” The smile he gave her was a little unsure.
“It has,” she answered, sitting back down.
He turned his attention back to his hands, clasped on the table. “You don’t dress in the black robe?”
“Somewhere along the line I developed an aversion to grey”—Killien winced—“that spills over into black.” Unwilling for the topic of her slavery to sour the conversation, she attempted a smile. “I’m working on it.”
Killien didn’t smile back. He ran his fingers along the grain of the table. “This past year has taught me a lot, Sini. For the first time in my life, I have no power at all.” He ran a short, broken fingernail along the wood. “I really thought when I was Torch that I was a good leader. That I cared for and protected the people whose lives were in my hands. But I only cared for them in as much as they served my purpose. I don’t think I really saw them.”
He twitched as though he would look at her, but his gaze got no further than the table in front of her. “It seemed to me that if I treated you well, especially knowing where you came from, that it would be enough to cover the fact that I’d taken your whole life.” He risked a look at her face. “I know it wasn’t enough.”
She looked at the man who had once controlled every aspect of her life. The one who had taken her from her family and raised her among the Roven. The one who’d kept her from becoming a Keeper for years. She wanted to feel angry with him, but there was something too broken in him for her anger to settle on.
“I don’t know if I can forgive the Torch who forced me into slavery,” she said honestly. Killien dropped his gaze and nodded. “But I’m just now realizing that I’m no longer the girl who was a slave. And if you are no longer a Torch, perhaps we can begin there while our pasts sort themselves out.”
Killien looked up at her hopefully.
She motioned to his ankle. “I’d help you if magic worked on you.”
He moved his ankle gingerly, “Sora’s right, it’s just a sprain.”
She paused before her next question. “Did you see Lukas on the Sweep?”
Killien shook his head. “He didn’t come to the Morrow. At least not while I was there. I heard he’d visited the Sunn and the Boan. I honestly don’t know what I would have done if he’d come to us.”
“If he was on his dragon
, probably nothing,” Sini pointed out.
Killien groaned. “I still can’t believe Lukas has that creature. And that he’s controlled it for four years. The more I learn about him, the more I think I didn’t really…know him.”
Sini shook her head. “I feel like I’ve misjudged him at every turn. Maybe neither of us actually knew him.”
A heavy, bitter regret settled on her at the thought, and the darkness of the throne room felt suddenly oppressive. In effort to shift the mood, she said, “Tell me of Sevien. He must be so big.”
Killien launched into a long, glowing account of his son and Sini listened, letting her more leaden thoughts fall to the wayside.
A dwarf ran into the throne room, bowing to Douglon. “The High Dwarf’s condition worsens, my lord. The surgeon bids you come quickly.”
Douglon’s shoulders slumped. He turned back to Alaric and waved a hand at the map. “We’ve discussed as much as we can now, anyway. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll make sure everyone treats you better than they want to treat humans. We’ll leave after Horgoth…”
Without finishing, he followed the messenger out of the throne room.
Will and Sora had disappeared, and Killien joined Roan and Alaric at the map. Pest rejoined Sini from the side of the fireplace and offered to take her back to her room.
Grateful for the chance to escape to somewhere quiet, she agreed. “The quickest way this time, please.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Horgoth did not die quickly. Though the surgeon gave omens of death nearly every hour, the High Dwarf lingered. The surgeon gave him herbs to dull the pain, and he stayed blissfully unaware of his surroundings and how slowly the infection was killing him.
Douglon swung back and forth between despondency and agitation. To avoid a constant stream of dwarven nobility seeking him out, he took the humans on a tour deep into Duncave. Patlon, despite his disapproval of Douglon’s responsibility-shirking, came along as well. The first evening they visited a mining cave where dozens of dwarves were tinking on walls with tiny hammers. Casks full of glittering blue gems lined the walls. Pest, who’d been shadowing Sini, apparently decided the cave was safe enough for him to lurk near the casks.