by Markus Heitz
Beligata felt the tension lift slightly. She wondered how Hargorin was going to react.
The red-headed dwarf grinned. “There you have it. Once again our races are united in pursuit of a common enemy. You killed it, then?”
“I was just riding to the palace to notify my Naishïon.” The elf thought for a moment. “Do you require somewhere to stay the night? You won’t get through Lesinteïl before nightfall on your way back to the mountains.”
“That’s kind of you,” Hargorin said. “We thought we’d make for the cave this beast must have used as a lair. There’ll be more than two of them.”
“More than two?”
“One of them killed the Tabaîn heir apparent. Plus the one you found and killed. So if there’s two, there could well be a whole pack.”
“I’m not leaving till I get my hunting trophy,” Belogar insisted.
Phenîlas looked disapproving as he drew himself up to his full height. “I cannot allow that. My master would have to be consulted.”
“I quite understand.” Now it was Hargorin’s turn to find a way out.
Beligata placed her hand over her heart. “Our High King gave us further instructions because he is deeply committed to protecting the entire region from danger. And if there proves to be a tunnel from which these beasts are emerging from the evil depths, we are to go down and eradicate them.” She indicated Carâhnios. “That’s why we’ve got him with us.”
“Boïndil Doubleblade sends you?”
“I swear by Vraccas this is so.” Hargorin gave Beligata a look but she could not understand his meaning. “He is concerned that there may still be a way through to Phondrasôn even though you have done so much to fill in and close up the crater. Elves are not adapted to working in tunnels and deep caverns; your element is nature and the forests. But we dwarves are at home in mines and underground. That’s how Vraccas made us.”
“I owe Boïndil Doubleblade a good deal.” Phenîlas was lost in thought. “I could only give you permission to remain right here. I’m off to see my master anyway and I’ll ask him. Of course, if you’re gone when I come back with his answer, there’s not a lot I could do.”
All of them knew the elf ruler would never give his consent to the dwarves’ plan for roaming the tunnels under Lesinteïl. There was too great a risk of evil escaping back into the upper world.
Hargorin nodded. “Understood.”
“If you go further, I would have to hunt you down and force you to turn back. I shall follow your tracks, wherever they lead. Let this be my warning.”
“We understand.” Beligata suppressed a whoop. Whatever Ireheart might have done for this elf, it had certainly saved their mission, even if their task would hardly be made the easier with Phenîlas dogging their every footstep.
“One final thing: tell us where it was these beasts were first sighted.”
Phenîlas pointed to the east. “My feeling is that they will have surfaced near the edge of the crater, but our scouts have failed to come up with any evidence.” He looked at Carâhnios. “But you’ve got a zhadár. He’ll lead you to the best place. Evil always finds evil.” He swung himself up into the saddle. “We are agreed. Give my thanks to Boïndil Doubleblade when you see him next. I hope that all of you will indeed see him again after your hunt.”
Before the dwarves could reply in a friendly vein, the elf had turned his horse and made off at a gallop.
Belogar breathed a sigh of relief. “That was a near thing.”
“We’ve no time to lose.” Hargorin turned to Carâhnios. “Do you think you’ll be able to find where the beasts are crawling through?”
Reminding Beligata of a living shadow, the black dwarf gestured affirmatively and set off at a run. In single file they followed the zhadár at a jog that made their backpacks and armour jingle and rattle. Since this latest encounter there was no need to avoid discovery. Their task now was to find the entrance before Phenîlas came back to throw them out of the elf kingdom.
Beligata knew he would not come alone. And resistance would be hopeless. She was worried about having to fight off more of the beasts. It would be fatal to come across one in the confined space of a tunnel.
Lorimbur, I place my life in your hands. She scrutinised her surroundings in the grove watchfully. She did not want to be leaped on by some sharp-clawed creature.
And certainly not by Carâhnios, her new admirer.
But the zhadár seemed to know exactly where they should be going. He ran on ahead and no long pauses were taken. Their breathing was getting louder with the exertion and sweat poured off them despite the cool air of the shady woodland.
That evening, thoroughly exhausted, they reached the edge of the crater, which formed a gentle embankment at the spot.
Beligata watched with revulsion as Carâhnios sniffed the wind like an animal; she saw him take a sip from a small phial. He began to pant, and groan, then to utter cries of ecstasy and gales of laughter. He went down on his knees and threw his head back to stare at the stars.
“What’s he doing?” Belogar tapped his war club, looking at Gosalyn. “Has he gone completely mad? If so we could kill him now, because he’ll be no further use to us.”
Beligata smiled at the Fifthling. She liked the straightforward way he thought.
Carâhnios suddenly got to his feet and rushed off.
“Follow him,” Hargorin ordered.
“I could really do with some food,” Belogar complained. “My stomach is crying out for something to eat.”
“Mind it doesn’t upset your guts,” whooped Carâhnios. “They can easily get all tangled up. And then we’ll have to cut you open, ha ha.” And off he went through the trees again.
The group had no option but to follow in his tracks; he had deliberately left signs, Beligata knew. The rest of the time the zhadár was quite capable of leaving no footsteps. The uncanny power of his creators.
The band of dwarves struggled through thickets of thorn bushes that tore at their leather and even the padded doublets they wore under their chainmail. Beligata’s legs were badly scratched and all the dwarves got thorns through the soles of their boots. They had to stop and cut each other free when they become hopelessly ensnared in the brambles.
When the undergrowth thinned out they could see where earth had been thrown up in a heap. A shadow the size of a dwarf was waiting for them.
“This is where they came out.” Carâhnios bared his teeth and emitted a screeching laugh. “And this is where we go in.”
And he hopped straight into the hole without further ado.
“Let’s try our luck,” said Hargorin, shrugging off his rucksack. The dwarves all shook hands. “May we find what has been so sorely missed.” He chucked his bag into the shaft and followed the zhadár.
Beligata looked up at the stars in farewell. Let this not be in vain. She was the last one to approach the opening.
“Psst,” she heard behind her.
She stopped dead and took her double axe in her left hand before turning round.
The thick brambles obstructed her view; she normally had excellent night vision.
Beligata said nothing, waiting to see if her senses had tricked her or whether there was indeed someone watching them all go into the shaft. It’ll have to show itself soon.
She heard the faintest rustle to her left.
Now she was sure of it: someone was creeping forward. Why would he first draw attention to himself if he’s going to attack me?
“Come over here,” came the whisper. Was it a man speaking or a woman? Either way she was not going to comply.
Gripping the double axe tight, she turned slightly without moving away from the spot. She wanted the option of jumping into the shaft to avoid trouble. It was her responsibility, as rear guard, to ensure they weren’t attacked from behind.
No more rustling.
“Come this way if you want to go on living,” came the urgent whisper. “The beast is about to spring.”
N
ot half a heartbeat after that warning she heard the roar.
A huge lupine head forced its way out of the hole and the body followed so swiftly that she had no time to land a blow. Then the monster was directly in front of her, its sharp ears erect. Bits of earth and small pebbles rolled off its tough skin when it shook itself.
Beligata went cold: the gaping muzzle was dripping blood, black in the starlight. It had fresh meat fragments between its teeth. And some scraps of leather.
That’s …
The beast launched itself at her.
If a mountain looks too high to climb, dig a tunnel under it.
Dwarf saying
VI
Girdlegard
Elf realm Ti Lesinteïl
6492nd solar cycle, summer
Phenîlas proffered the tionium capsule he had cut from the beast’s neck. “They were deployed as messengers. It is as I feared, Naishïon.”
Ataimînas was sitting back on his heels in the palace’s large reception room, wearing wide, dark blue robes embroidered in gold thread and accentuated with a broad black sash. The sleeves had long silk cuffs from wrist to elbow and his hands were in white gloves.
He took the capsule with his left hand while the right rested on his thigh.
He read out the dwarf runes. “‘For Ireheart.’ Why hasn’t it been opened?”
“It resisted every effort.”
Ataimînas laughed. “Those dwarves and their metalwork.” He studied the symbols closely. “There’s a peculiar flourish to the characters. Whoever engraved it wanted to indicate he is not from Girdlegard.” He raised his green eyes to Phenîlas. “There may be many explanations. But in combination with the beasts that brought them, not one is to my liking.” He placed the capsule down and called a servant to take it to the workshops.
“Find some way of opening it,” came the curt instruction. Turning to Phenîlas he said, “After that we’ll see if the contents mean danger for us.”
“I am curious.”
The Naishïon kept his gaze on the light-haired elf. “Why do you think we’ve had no new arrivals recently?”
“Because the gates have been closed?” Phenîlas said, naming the most likely explanation. He could neither imagine their people had been attacked within Girdlegard, nor that the flow of migrants had dried up.
“I agree. I am sending out messengers at daybreak to the five dwarf kingdoms. I hope very much that the old feud has not broken out again. We thought that was all over.” Ataimînas turned his head to the portraits on the walls and then asked: “Would you be able to sort out the confusion surrounding Tabaîn’s throne?”
“I expect my influence will be helpful.”
“I don’t want any further delay. Our subjects will need grain and I need to source it. Our reserves are almost gone and our neighbours are about to bring in the harvest. It’s essential the king gives us access rights to fields where we can plant and tend our own corn. We had Natenian in the palm of our hands. What do we know about Dirisa?”
“Nothing,” admitted Phenîlas reluctantly. “No one was expecting her to usurp the throne. None of Natenian’s spies had any inkling of what she was planning. Like all the others in the council, she was not thought to be ambitious. But she must have been waiting for an opportunity like this.”
Ataimînas gave a mocking smile. “Yet another unexpected turn of events. Like this foundling girl and Mallenia’s new lapdog.” The ruler kept his eyes fixed on Phenîlas. “Sort it. At once. Before they’ve stopped mourning Raikan. Otherwise Dirisa’s support base will grow. Find out if anyone was behind the coup.”
“As you command, Naishïon.”
“After that we will have to consider how to get rid of the young girl. I share the dwarves’ concern regarding her.” He exhaled sharply. “A pity the älf didn’t kill her.” Phenîlas recalled exactly how swiftly and surely the intruder had spread death amongst the guards at the inn. But an unarmed child had thwarted an attack?
“Come winter, something will have happened to the child.”
“That responsibility, too, I place in your hands.” Ataimînas smiled graciously. “I intend to make you my deputy if you carry out these two tasks successfully.”
“That is most generous. But won’t Ilahín object? He enjoys great popularity now that you’ve sent him to the Golden Plain; he attends to the people’s needs and he is omnipresent. I am merely a warrior doing my duty in secret.”
“An empire needs both secret warriors and those who look after the subjects. He will also be rewarded.” The Naishïon raised his arm, pointing to the exit with his white-gloved hand. “You know what needs doing.”
Phenîlas got to his feet. “There’s one more thing which may be significant. At the Lesinteïl border I encountered a small group of dwarves on the trail of the beast that escaped. They’re determined to track it down and kill it.”
“Was there any mention of the missing Tabaîn soldier?”
“No.”
Ataimînas frowned. “An obvious subterfuge. An excuse for sending a band of dwarves down to Phondrasôn to search for their missing hero. Send one of our crack units after them. Tell them to disguise themselves as älfar.”
As the Naishïon pointed to the door again the fabric of his robes rustled.
No further discussion was needed.
Girdlegard
United Kingdom of Gauragar-Idoslane
Freestone
6492nd solar cycle, summer
“It is an unusual way of proceeding but I can quite understand why the High King wants it urgently and without any public discussion.” Mallenia laid the invitation on the table: a summons to the Council of Kings convened by Boïndil in Freestone. She turned to Rodario. Compared to his extravagant get-up, she could, in her simple armour, have been one of her own bodyguards. “It’s the future of Girdlegard at stake.”
They had taken rooms again at the same guesthouse as a gesture of confidence; no one should think the älfar had intimidated them.
Together with Sha’taï they had the use of two large rooms and had not insisted on travelling with a large retinue. A few servants, a maid, a dozen soldiers: this would suffice.
The meeting was to be held without great ceremony. It was essential the rulers should come together to debate recent events at the Stone Gateway; no pageantry or spectacle was required. Rodario was the exception, given his penchant for showy attire.
“The monarchs will make their way here swiftly, as long as they can all read and have gathered what has happened at the Stone Gateway.” The former actor and chosen king of Urgon was perched on the window seat surrounded by documents.
Most of the papers were extracts from Carmondai’s work. He was an älfar historian and story-teller who had witnessed many things in his long career and had kept records of events going back to before the evil invaded Girdlegard. Troops had found a fraction of his writings in Dsôn Bhará; much of the work had been destroyed during the attack.
“He wrote so much.” Rodario placed his hand on the next pile of papers. He wanted to find any mention of some similarly demonic foe, in the hope of coming up with a means of defeating it.
Certain humans were allowed sight of these papers, which portrayed events from the älfar point of view. Some critics warned that this was tantamount to glorifying evil. Simple souls might become fascinated and fanatical, taking sides with the enemy. This was why the papers were kept under lock and key. Rodario always kept them in a padlocked iron chest when he was not perusing them himself.
“Anything helpful?”
“I haven’t found anything so far. You were quite right.” Rodario looked out of the window, having caught sight of some movement out in the courtyard. “The proud flower of Sangpûr has arrived. So it’s only Ireheart we’re waiting for.”
“Natenian?”
“He arrived earlier and is resting. So he and”—Rodario had to think—“what’s her name again?”
Mallenia grinned. “Dirisa. So she’s come?
”
“Yes. Until it’s absolutely clear who’s in charge she considers herself co-ruler. With equal status.” The ex-actor looked around. “Where did I put my glass of water?”
“You drank it. But Sha’taï can go and fetch you some more.” Mallenia called her ward. The girl came in from the adjoining room wearing a pretty robe in light green and brown, her hair braided in a plait encircling her head. Mallenia was enchanted. “Be a sweet thing and get us a jug of fresh water.”
“Of course,” replied the little one with a charming curtsey before hurrying off.
“How often have you told her she doesn’t have to stand on ceremony?” Rodario levered himself up from the low window seat and crossed the room in a kind of obstacle race past the piles of papers.
Mallenia came over and embraced him in spite of her armour. “She insists; she says it’s only right. I wonder when the shadow of grief will fade from her eyes?”
“We must be grateful to the gods that she can feel any joy at all, after what she’s been through.” Rodario kissed his consort gently on the mouth. “Poor little thing. She’s been driven out of her homeland, threatened by a dwarf, and she’s lost her family. She has no real parents.”
“We’re her substitute parents.” The blonde Idoslane queen stroked his brown hair. “Or we should at least try to give her the stability she would have had in her previous life.” She looked intently at him. “I want you to know that I am naming her as my heir and you as her guardian, should anything happen to me.”
Rodario looked concerned. “How can you think that something …”
She laid a finger on his lips to silence him. “It was a near thing during that attack. If it hadn’t been for Ireheart there would have been many more victims. Especially among the rulers. That was what made me decide to put my affairs in order.”