by Markus Heitz
Ireheart emptied the next tankard; he had forgotten how many he’d already drunk, but the alcohol had managed to suppress his dark burning rage. For now. He was counting on the iron will all dwarves shared, and he hoped to overcome his burden with Vraccas’ help and his own effort. No rages any more, no more unquenchable thirst, no more terrible dreams. Until then he needed his mead. And his black beer.
“The young ward you mentioned,” he turned to Mallenia, “she wouldn’t be the girl they found in the abandoned settlement in the Grey Mountains, would she? What did they say her name was?”
All eyes were on the blonde woman from Idoslane. Word had gone round in Girdlegard about the foundling child, but no actual details were known.
“She is called Sha’taï,” Mallenia replied with a sweet smile. “She’s a good little girl.”
Everyone knew the story. A group consisting of human soldiers, dwarves and an elf had been searching for a deserted village in the Grey Mountains, after surprising descriptions found in älfar records. And they had indeed located the remains of a settlement where in the past, dwarves of the Fifthling tribe must have co-existed with elves.
Ireheart did not know what the purpose of the secret experiment had been or why it had only come to light via the älfar writings. The dwarves had searched their own archives in vain for a mention, and there were none of the original Fifthlings around they could ask.
While there, the group found a little girl from the Outer Lands, only able to speak in the älfar tongue. The dwarves had refused to take the child along, so in the end the human soldiers had brought her to Mallenia.
Since then nothing had been heard of Sha’taï.
“She’s a bright child,” Mallenia told them proudly. “I wanted to introduce her so she could tell us what she knows. There’s a possible threat to Girdlegard from her homeland.” She looked from one to another in turn. “That’s why it’s so important that we do away with suspicion and self-interest amongst us.”
Ireheart pricked up his ears. If the kid could speak the black-eyes’ language, she must have lived with them.
Is that why the älf attacker went to her room first? To silence her? Or was it just for her guard’s uniform? Ireheart would prefer to see the mysterious foundling safely stowed in a prison cell instead of sitting by the side of the queen who ruled two countries, but he was keen to see what the child was like nonetheless.
“So there are still some älfar on the other side of the mountains?” Ireheart muttered. “I pray to Vraccas that Aiphatòn will find them and root them out.” If he can’t, then we’ll be ready and waiting.
He noticed how the blonde Ido woman bit her lip when he said that and decided she must know more than she was admitting.
“Let’s wait till Rodario gets back. In the meantime, let’s talk about some of the positives happening here in Girdlegard,” said Astirma. The wine was having its effect. She now seemed able to put aside the pain and the horror of the recent events. “We mustn’t neglect the good things.” The young queen gave Ireheart a friendly glance. “High King, if you would tell us what’s happening in the mountains.”
“With pleasure.” He slurped a mouthful of beer, drew breath and started his report of how the five dwarf tribes were progressing. Ireheart did not believe that Sha’taï had become a victim of the assassin, because Rodario would have come storming back already.
He was more puzzled that the actor king had not returned.
Girdlegard
Elf realm of Ti Lesinteïl
6492nd solar cycle, early summer
Lying on the floor of the large hall, Raikan Fieldwood heard curt elf commands coming from outside; the sound of arrows had not let up. His friend Tenkil was shouting desperately for Lilia.
We were sent into a trap. He still could not feel his legs. It was taking too long for his circulation to recover and his muscles work again; he could not fight. The elf ruler must have left by a concealed door. “To the door!” he yelled to his two companions, and wriggled his way over the rush matting like a maggot. In his mind’s eye he could see Ketrin and Tenkil ambushed and shot full of arrows. “I must know what’s going on.”
Together, Raikan, Irtan and Lilia reached the large bronze door and used their weapons to prise it open far enough to see out. It was now clear that the arrows had not been intended for their friends.
Her clothing torn to rags, Ketrin lay on the ground, a deep gash in her chest and splintered bones sticking out. Something had dug furiously through her body to get to the soft innards.
What’s happening? Raikan saw four mutilated elf corpses, attacked in the same way.
Tenkil was struggling out from under a fallen horse. His chainmail was torn full of holes; blood gushed from a shoulder wound. Arrows that had missed their targets were stuck in the ground on all sides.
So the guards on the balcony and skulking in the woods were not there because of us at all. Grabbing the door handle, Raikan pulled himself up. They were watching out for whatever has cost Ketrin her life.
Pins and needles took over from the numbness in his legs.
Without taking his eyes off the scene outside, the young king stamped his feet repeatedly to get the circulation going. He could feel his feet again. Now we can fight. “Tenkil! Hang on! We’re nearly there!”
“No!” Tenkil had freed himself from the weight of the horse cadaver and, crouching low, with sword and dagger drawn, he started moving towards the them. “I’ll come where you are. Whatever that is, there’s no hope of confronting it in an open fight.”
Tenkil sprinted over.
Irtan and Lilia flanked the bronze door, weapons at the ready. They, too, had been regaining the use of their lower limbs. We should have been wearing armour. “Shut the door as soon as he’s through.”
Tenkil flew across the ground he had to cover—and then the darkness behind him started to move.
A creature came storming forward, as steely black as night itself. It was like a huge, armoured wolf. Its eyes glowed white, its ears pricked up and the long snout gaped wide, displaying shining, sharp-pointed teeth too numerous to count.
Powerful jaws snapped at the man as he ran for his life, but he swerved instinctively. Raikan heard a loud clack as the jaws sprang shut. The creature snorted and roared.
Its armoured skin deflected swarms of arrows. Others missed their target as the animal zigzagged. One of the arrows hit its snout just as the creature launched another attack on Tenkil. It gave a furious barking sound.
“Run!” shouted Raikan. “Or it’ll have you.”
But the beast had ceased to care about Tenkil. It cast its shimmering eyes up to the balcony and sprang from its powerful hindquarters, disappearing from sight.
Tenkil made it into the hall and Irtan and Lilia slammed the bronze doors shut. The four friends from Tabaîn listened as the metallic echo died away.
They heard steps above their heads and then screams of terror. The archers were being killed one by one. Weapons clanked to the floor. It didn’t seem there was any defence being put up.
“What do we do?” Irtan looked at the others.
“We get out of here while it’s busy with the elves.” Lilia took a step back. “Whatever it is.”
“I didn’t even see it properly. I’ve battled enough monsters in my time, but …” Tenkil was shaking, looking at the dagger in his unsteady hands. “It came out of nowhere, fangs glowing bright. It broke and tore anything in its path.”
Raikan forced down the panic clutching at his heart with an ice-cold hand.
A bold thought occurred to him suddenly, in spite of his fear: if he could manage to protect the elf ruler’s life, there was bound to be something in it for him. Not only an advantage for Tabaîn, but something to benefit the whole of Girdlegard.
“Maybe something the älfar left behind?” Raikan moved towards the side door. “Some creature conjured up by the blackest of arts?”
Tenkil grabbed his arm. “Why didn’t the elf warn u
s and take us with him?”
Irtan’s face grew dark. “We were the unwitting bait!”
Raikan was hoping against hope that there was more to the elf’s behaviour than treachery. “Let’s see what we—”
All of a sudden, the beast burst through the wall and pounced at Lilia in a hail of splinters. The blade she jabbed at the wolf-like animal’s shoulder shattered on impact. The beast’s white fangs flared bright, gaped wide and slammed shut.
She fell with a scream, the beast flailing on top of her, as her severed arm flew up in the air still grasping the weapon. An arc of blood spurted out.
Raikan whirled round, wielding his long sword at its hindquarters, hoping the plating might be less thick there.
But the creature sidestepped neatly, its front claws slashing Lilia’s unprotected throat.
The woman gasped her last and was half-dragged and half-flung to one side, her corpse leaving red trails on the matting.
“Save yourself, my king,” Tenkil yelled, leaping in front of Raikan to protect him. “Get word to Girdlegard—”
“He wouldn’t get far,” came an elf voice from behind them. “We’ve been trying to destroy the beast for over forty orbits.”
Ataimînas pushed past them, placing himself in front of Tenkil. He was now wearing close-fitting armour comprising a large number of tiny metal rods and he held a long, iron spike in his gauntleted hand. “I was hoping it wouldn’t get wind of your visit.”
The bronze doors opened and twenty warriors marched in, all equipped with lances and spears. Faced with a forest of sharp blades, the creature gave a throaty roar and bared its shining fangs threateningly.
Raikan and Tenkil exchanged swift glances. The elf had left them to put on defensive armour and fetch help; it had not been a trap after all. We were victims of our own bad thoughts. “Kill it. Let’s kill it together,” he said, a breath of guilt in his voice.
Ataimînas nodded. “May we succeed.” He advanced with Tenkil and Raikan flanking him and Irtan covering them from the rear.
The warriors drove the beast back up against the wall.
The creature bared its teeth and stared at them all with luminous eyes, flaring its nostrils and snuffling. Their opponent seemed wily enough to know not to charge the wall of spikes; bright blood trickled from a wound on its snout where it must have broken off the arrow piercing the skin.
What is that? Raikan saw a fine chain round its neck with a capsule as big as a child’s fist hanging from it. There was writing but the runes were unclear: strangely familiar but neither of elf nor älfar origin. Could those be dwarf symbols?
When Ataimînas gave the word, his soldiers stormed the beast.
Ten warriors directed their spear tips straight ahead; the others held theirs sloping upwards to prevent the animal leaping over the blades. The Naishïon himself was at the centre of the onslaught, his lance blade polished gold. Tenkil and Raikan were at his sides.
“Let’s get that capsule off the beast,” cried the heir to Tabaîn. “I want to know what’s in it.”
“It won’t be good,” Ataimînas said. “This is bound to be something the älfar set up. They make a point of leaving vicious traps behind them.”
Any further words went unheard in the clash of blades.
The warriors stabbed and slashed at the creature, which was proving surprisingly agile. It jumped around and growled, bit spear shafts to pieces and crunched the metal parts seemingly without damaging its teeth. With its front paws, it made jabs at the row of soldiers: elves were flung injured to the matting. The beast’s long claws cut through chainmail shirts and armour plate and blood streamed out, soaking into the rush matting and filling the air with its metallic scent.
Ataimînas ordered his elves back. “Let’s try and lure it outside. Our new archers should be in place,” he told Raikan.
“Didn’t work just now,” Tenkil said.
“We’ve got some better arrows we can use. We’ll see an end to the beast this night. Your friends’ deaths will be avenged.” Ataimînas nodded at him. “I swear it.”
They attacked the beast once more to provoke it and to distract it from the danger it would be facing outside, and then withdrew backwards through the bronze double doors.
The beast pursued them, now facing a reduced number of opponents. Raikan admired the nobility of the elf-soldiers and their readiness to sacrifice themselves, knowing they had very little chance of surviving the confrontation.
Outside the palace, the creature was challenged only by the Tabaîners, the Naishïon, and three elf-warriors. It crouched, ready to spring at the courageous band.
Ataimînas called out a command and a humming sound came from all sides.
“Get down!” he shouted, throwing himself to the ground.
Raikan and Tenkil immediately did the same, but Irtan was a shade too slow in reacting. There was a scream when he was hit. He and one of the elves who had not moved fast enough fell, their bodies stuck with arrows.
A wave of darkness flooded the scene as arrows and steel balls rained down on the beast.
Raikan saw how the missiles affected the wolf-like creature. The combination of sharp and blunt projectiles seemed to do the trick, with the slingshot pummelling the skin, making it easier for the arrowheads to puncture.
“It’s working!” shouted Raikan excitedly. He got ready to jump up and attack the creature with his sword as soon as the deadly bombardment stopped. I want that capsule.
But the beast was not giving up.
It roared and barked in rage, leaped into the air and ravaged the two elf-warriors crouched under cover, unable to run away. It swung their bodies about like dolls, fangs tearing through their armour. Their corpses were hit by the arrows and steel balls in the air.
Then the creature turned on the Naishïon himself.
Its jaws gaped wide. It seemed nothing could halt its onrush, not even arrows and slingshots. But the thin wire the capsule hung from was not as tough and the mysterious metal object fell under one of the creature’s blood-red clawed feet.
Before Raikan could leap into action to protect Ataimînas, braving the hail of arrows, Tenkil had rolled forward. The sturdy warrior grabbed one of the splintered lances and drove it into the beast’s open maw.
The creature stopped, retching at the wooden lance lodged in its gullet. By now it had so many arrows sticking out of its hide that it looked like a porcupine. It dealt Tenkil a mighty blow with a foreleg, sending him spinning round to end up groaning on the ground. This slight delay served the elf bowmen. Eight arrows to the eyes and through the soft palate brought the animal down, burying the muscular Tabaîner under itself.
The elves abruptly ceased their fire.
“This is an orbit we will remember for a long time,” Ataimînas called out, getting to his feet. He proffered his hand to help Raikan up. “The beast has been defeated. With your help.”
“Sure.” The young monarch sped over to the vanquished monster. “But before we mourn the dead and celebrate our victory in honour of their sacrifice, give me a hand to free my friend. Otherwise he’ll suffocate and add to their number.”
Ataimînas gave instructions Raikan could not understand. Elves emerged from their hiding places, hanging their bows on their backs. “Take care. We might find there’s still a spark of life in it.”
“Where did it come from?”
Ataimînas gestured. “We assume that it dug itself out through the crater we filled in. There may be some narrow pipe or passageway leading up out of the cave system. At one time the Moon Pond used to be here, with the infamous realm of darkness underneath. Full of monsters and beasts.”
“Phondrasôn.” Raikan was aware of the älfar name for the terrible place that reached all the way to the Black Abyss. It had been described in papers found after the fall of the Triplets, written about by an älf called Carmondai. “Hang on, Tenkil. We’re going to pull you out.” Raikan looked at the downed monster. “I understood the underground ha
d been fully sealed off?”
“Evil always finds a way.” Ataimînas gave another command and the warriors stood still. “It is undoubtedly tragic that the young heir to Tabaîn should fall victim to this beast after he saved my life like a true hero.” With that he kicked the astonished Raikan’s feet out from under him, making him fall at the creature’s snout. “A dead hero.”
“Have you gone mad?” Raikan attempted to raise his sword.
The Naishïon stepped back with a smile to allow four of the guards to march up.
The young man struggled and raged as they seized him and shoved his neck between the gaping fangs of the monster. The sharp teeth pierced his skin.
“Let me be,” he demanded. “Ataimînas, what is this?” The elves held his arms fast, rendering him unable to defend himself. An overpowering stench came from the creature’s open mouth and the blood of its victims was everywhere.
The Naishïon came close and placed his right boot on the creature’s snout, increasing the pressure on Raikan’s throat and neck. “You should be pleased you managed to survive so long. We wanted you to die before you ever reached the palace, but the beast did not show in time.” The green eyes showed no sign of mercy.
Raikan was at a loss. “What sort of game is …”
“Your brother and our new Elf Empire have come to an agreement. Your brother, my fine would-be King Raikan”—he bent close, strands of dark brown hair falling over his face—“has no intention of abdicating. And now that you have met your death in this tragic accident, he will have to remain on the throne. That means we get our grain on much more favourable terms.”
“My brother?”
Ataimînas gave a spiteful laugh. “He is devious, of course. So we will check the grain he supplies to see if it’s poisoned. But on the other hand, he is also astute. It was his idea we make this contract; it bears your signature and proves that you went behind his back. Your name will be eradicated from the records, after some initial praise for saving my life.” The elf straightened up and swept back his hair. “Everything has been thought of.”