The dark creatures were slow to recover with the Forsworn no longer there to rally them. Order among them soon disintegrated and the battle turned to chaos.
The dwarves advanced from the north. If Belierumar’s army could reach them to join forces, perhaps the city stood a chance.
Iarion’s deadly speed and agility intensified as he turned from one opponent to the next. His knife moved in graceful arcs as he slid it between the ribs of an ogre only to spin and slice the throat of a goblin behind him. He became a living weapon, bringing death to anything that stood in his way. The expression on his blood-spattered face caused the dark creatures to flee before him. The metallic tang of their foul blood filled his nostrils.
The dwarves were near. Iarion pushed himself onward leading the foray that would join the two forces. Even Linwyn was somewhere behind him. Iarion paid the others no heed as he surged ahead. No one could keep up with Iarion in his current state.
“Iarion!” Barlo’s cry of warning was all he had to jar him from his death trance, alerting him to the attack coming from behind.
The hot breath of a large ogre ruffled Iarion’s hair, making him gag. He took a moment to intuit the creature’s position before whirling around. The ogre squealed as Iarion slid his knife between its tusks, under its chin, and up into its brain. He gave his blade a twist before pulling it free. The ogre fell to the ground.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Barlo shouted at him once he had caught up. “Getting that far ahead on your own. You could have gotten yourself killed!”
Barlo likely would have continued his tirade, but there were other problems at hand. Several creatures remained between them and the dwarves, but their resistance was weakening. After several moments of brutal combat, they pushed through to reach their new allies. Now they turned to face the dark army as a single force.
The situation seemed to have turned in their favor. But Iarion could see it would not be enough. The dark creatures were still too many, and the slower trolls were beginning to enter the fray. The corpses of dwarves, and Greater Men and Women littered the battlefield, with more falling every moment. It was too late to retreat. They had been cut off from the gate. This was where they would have to make their stand.
Iarion steeled himself, hoping he and his friends would survive the approaching massacre. The dark creatures sensed their advantage and surged forward once more.
The call of a horn from across the field drew everyone’s attention. It was coming from the south. Iarion turned to look. His eyes pierced the rain and the crowd of enemies to see yet another army approaching. Actually, it appeared to be two armies. The taller force was led by standard bearers. Two familiar pennants flapped in the wind: an oak on a field of green, and a mountain crag on silver.
Iarion let out a whoop. His people had come, and the Earth Elves with them. The second army was composed of shorter warriors who wore tartans of varying patterns. Dwarvenhome had answered Barlo’s summons.
“What is it?” Barlo demanded. “What do you see?”
“Elves and dwarves coming from the south,” Iarion cried. “They must have set out as soon as our messages arrived, and marched day and night to make such good time. Now we’ll see what these foul creatures can do!” Iarion gave a silent thanks to the Lord and Lady of the Linadar for sending their initial warning to make ready for war.
The warriors of Belierumar saw the approach of their new allies and doubled their efforts. Now the two opposing forces were even. The dark creatures did not like these new odds. Some goblins began to flee before the onslaught of the approaching elves and dwarves. They ran for the safety of the Southern Passage.
The newcomers fought their way to the side of the soldiers of Belierumar and Dwarfhaven. Even more of the dark creatures abandoned the battle. The goblins and ogres who had fought for supremacy among their own yelled at the others in the Black Tongue, threatening punishment to those who ran. It did no good. Their morale had finally been broken.
To make matters even worse, the rain stopped and the clouds began to dissipate, allowing the sun to break through. It was more than the creatures could bear. The majority of the dark forces retreated. Those who stayed behind were cut down.
Soon the Lower Daran Nunadan was empty of goblins, ogres, and trolls except those who lay dead or dying on the field. Everyone left standing was battered and bloodied. Iarion leaned against the body of a troll be had slain, trying to catch his breath. Barlo was beside him with his hands on his knees, panting.
“Good fight, eh?” the dwarf said.
“Not bad,” Iarion said. “Even if I did have to save your neck a few times.”
“My neck? If I hadn’t warned you about that ogre, you’d be dead!” Barlo punctuated his words with mock swings of his ax, which Iarion easily dodged.
“Thank you for your concern, but I knew the ogre was there all along. Highly tuned elf senses, you know. I wouldn’t expect a dwarf to understand.” Iarion felt the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Highly tuned elf senses, my arse! I saved you, and you know it!”
Iarion gave his friend a pat on the shoulder. “It’s the thought that counts.”
– Chapter Thirteen –
Making Amends
Although Belierumar had been saved, there was no guarantee the dark army would not return. A council was formed of the leaders of the allied armies. Linwyn, Golaron, and Lord Eranander were all to take part. The council was headed by Lysandir.
Iarion and Barlo had also been invited, but they declined. Both of them were exhausted from the battle, and had no desire to stick their noses into such business when they already had a quest of their own to worry about. Barlo authorized the generals of Dwarvenhome to speak for him. Before the session started, one of the dwarves from his clan handed him a letter, which Barlo tore open.
“It’s from Narilga,” Barlo said in a gruff voice.
The dwarf’s eyes misted over as he began to read. Iarion decided to give his friend some privacy. He found Silvaranwyn, who looked better after getting some rest, but her dimmed coloring remained the same.
They sat together in her chambers, awaiting the end of the council session while trying to make their plans to travel north. Silvaranwyn was not much help. She had never been beyond the borders of Melaquenya before, but Iarion found her good company. Eventually, Barlo joined them. He had little to add to Silvaranwyn’s experience. Although the dwarf had traveled most of the midlands, he had never been north of the Barrier Mountains.
Iarion had traveled north many times in his long life, but he had always used the Southern Passage to do so. He knew of no other way through the Barrier Mountains. If the dark army was still entrenched there, it could take months of battle before the pass was clear, and that was if the allied armies even intended to continue supporting Belierumar. Iarion was unwilling to wait that long. Even waiting for the council to come to a decision seemed to take forever. Hours passed as they waited.
Just when Iarion thought his patience had been pushed to its limit, a page brought word that the council had finished its deliberations. Iarion had made Lysandir promise to bring them news as soon as possible. They did not have long to wait.
The Learnéd One knocked before sweeping into the room. He still looked wan from his battle with the Forsworn. He had been unable to replenish his powers in time to be of any help in breaking the siege. A dwarf with an iron-gray beard followed in his wake.
“I am certainly glad to see all of you in one piece,” the Learnéd One said. “This is Galhalga. He is Chief of Clans for Dwarfhaven.” The dwarf bowed. Barlo scowled at him.
“As you know, the dark army has fled to the refuge of the Southern Passage,” Lysandir continued. “The council has decided it would be too costly for us to try to dislodge them. Instead, they have agreed the allied armies will remain camped here to guard against the dark army’s inevitable move south toward Melaquenya.
“But we still need to find a way through the Barrier Moun
tains if we are to continue our quest. For our small group to try to fight our way past the dark army would be suicide. Galhalga here says he might have a solution to our problem.”
Galhalga stepped forward and cleared his throat. Barlo looked as though he were about to say something rude. Iarion silenced him with a glare.
“The dwarves of Dwarfhaven have made their home in the Barrier Mountains for as long as we can remember,” Galhalga said, speaking slowly in the Common Tongue. “We know these mountains better than anyone. A long time ago, we created a secret tunnel out of our city, should we ever have need to escape. It leads under the mountains to the Hills of Mist.”
“Ha!” Barlo said. “A likely story. You mean to trap us, don’t you?”
Galhalga’s face went deep red at the insult. He took a calming breath before speaking.
“Our heritage has not been a proud one. Grave mistakes have been made, creating a rift between us and the dwarves of Dwarvenhome and Dwarfwatch. Today we have tried to take the first step to remedy those mistakes by joining you in battle.
“Many of my own people are now feasting in the First Father’s Hall for their sacrifice on the battlefield. My offer to you is not false. We wish to move on from the past and make amends with the rest of our kind. This is why we answered Lysandir’s summons. He has said you are the one who must be convinced. Your people will not accept mine until you give your blessing.”
“Your dead are in the First Father’s Hall? Galrin would have none of your traitorous kind.” Barlo snorted in disgust.
Iarion placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and pulled him aside. “Why are you being so pigheaded?” He only spoke loud enough for Barlo to hear. “You didn’t even know why your people have such a grudge against theirs until a few days ago!”
“They can’t be trusted!” Barlo jutted his chin, his beard bristling.
“They came to our aid and arrived before anyone else. They fought and died beside us for a chance at redemption!”
“It’s probably a trick to catch us off guard when they have us in that tunnel of theirs.”
“Barlo, be reasonable. We need to use that tunnel if we’re going to have any chance of continuing our quest. What would Narilga say?”
Barlo scowled at his friend. “What did you have to go and drag her into it for?”
“Because if we were back at Dwarvenhome, it would be her advising you right now. What would she be saying?” Iarion pressed his advantage.
Barlo held his fierce expression for a few moments before blowing out a sigh. “She would want me to try to make peace. She would want me to try to gain a new ally.”
“And she would be right. Lysandir trusts them, and I trust him. Is it that difficult?”
“It is when you’re a stubborn, old dwarf like me. Fine. Have it your way.”
Barlo squared his shoulders and turned to face Galhalga. “As hard as it may be to believe, it seems an elf has shown me the error of my ways. To have all the dwarves united would be a good thing in these dark times.
“Your people fought well today. I apologize for my rude comments. Especially what I said about your fallen. They died well, and I’m sure they’re drinking in a place of honor at Galrin’s table.”
“Thank you.” Galhalga bowed. “I understand it will take time for others to overcome their prejudice toward our people. I am hoping our future deeds will soon outshine the errors of our past. I will arrange for one of my men to escort your group back to Dwarfhaven and send word you are to be shown the secret tunnel.”
“You won’t be coming with us?” Iarion was surprised.
Galhalga shook his head. “We are needed here. We will take every opportunity to prove our integrity. The time for hiding in shame has passed.”
“Perhaps we can also discuss reopening the ancient trade routes.” Barlo’s expression had become sly. “I’ve heard your mountains boast a large deposit of starsilver.”
“It is true. We have had no one to trade with for so long that we have more of it than we know what to do with.” Iarion hid a smile at Galhalga’s words. Dwarves never had more treasure than they knew what to do with!
“I have also heard tales of the gems to be found in the Jagged Mountains,” Galhalga continued. “The diamonds in particular.”
“Then perhaps we do have more to discuss,” Barlo said. “Why don’t we go see if we can find anything decent to drink around here and talk business? They don’t have any ale, but they do have a fine mead from Nal Huraseadro.”
Both Barlo and Galhalga were talking animatedly about precious metals and gemstones in their own tongue as they left the room.
Lysandir sighed and rolled his eyes. “Dwarves!”
A few days after the battle, Lysandir summoned all the members of Iarion’s group to meet with Lord Eranander. The Learnéd One had already told Linwyn and Golaron of their plans to set out for Dwarfhaven. Now he wanted to give the news to their father. Iarion did not think Lord Eranander would be pleased.
They each took a seat in the meeting room. Barlo let out a delicate belch and Iarion covered a smile. The dwarf had been drinking with Galhalga again. Once they had gotten over the ancient enmity of their people, they had become fast friends. Their alliance had been sealed with the promise of new trade opportunities between the two dwarven cities.
Several moments later, Lord Eranander strode in. “I hope this is important,” he grumbled as he took his seat. “I’ve done nothing but meet with people since our victory.” His blue eyes looked tired and his hair was disheveled.
“I would not have requested this audience if it were not important,” Lysandir said. “Allow me to be brief and to the point, so I won’t waste any more of your time. We’re leaving.”
“What? You cannot be serious. You can’t leave now!” Eranander’s face went red. “Those creatures are still out there. Once they have rested and recovered from their losses, they will come at us again. We need you here.”
“You have many new allies, who have promised to stay to ensure the safety of Belierumar. You don’t need us.” Lysandir gave him a look of warning.
“And what if the Forsworn return? You said yourself they cannot be killed. Eventually they will recover and lead their army into battle once more. What then?”
Lysandir sighed. “You are correct. The Forsworn will return. Perhaps in even greater numbers. But I cannot be everywhere at once. You must do what you can against them. Hold back the dark army for as long as possible and delay them from advancing on Melaquenya. We need time to get the Stariquenya and reunite it with the Quenya. My place is with Iarion.”
“Why, so you can lead him to his death?” Lord Eranander sneered. “Perhaps the rumors about you are true. Perhaps you are still in league with the Fallen One. Why else would you abandon us in our time of need?”
“Believe what you wish.” Lysandir shrugged. “But you must realize that if not for my actions, Belierumar would most likely be in ruins.”
“And you all plan to go with him?” Lord Eranander’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Iarion, Barlo, and Silvaranwyn in accusation. “Are you insane?”
“I cannot speak for the others,” Iarion said, “but I must go. It is my task.”
“I go where Iarion goes.” Barlo gave the lord a level gaze that brooked no argument.
“It is the path the Quenya has laid out for me,” Silvaranwyn said in her soft voice.
Eranander snorted in disgust. “Fine. At least my children will stay to lead our army to victory.”
“Father, we have already discussed this,” Linwyn said. “I am going as well.”
“You cannot! I will not allow it. You are needed here, more now than before.” Lord Eranander gave his daughter a fierce look, but Linwyn did not back down.
“I understand the fate of Belierumar is important, but it will not matter whether it is left standing if Iarion does not complete his quest.” She put a hand on her father’s shoulder. “I am going, Father. I told you, I gave them my word. Would
you have me break it?”
“I wish you had never given it in the first place.” Lord Eranander’s expression became sullen.
“But I did, and I intend to keep it. It was mine and Golaron’s promise that brought these people here to fight for us.” Linwyn’s expression softened. “Please Father, do not hate me for doing what I must.”
Eranander’s will was broken. His shoulders slumped as he leaned to cup his daughter’s cheek, suddenly looking old.
“I could never hate you.” He pulled away, regaining his composure.
“Go,” he said. “Help the elf complete his quest and return safely to your people. I can only hope Belierumar is still standing when you return. We will do everything we can without you. Take your brother with you. He gave his word as well, did he not? He has yet to speak. Perhaps he hopes to find some way out of your agreement.”
Golaron bowed his head. “Father, I have always tried to please you. In your eyes I am a coward if I stay and a coward if I go. I intend to keep my word. I will go with them.”
“Fine. Then I hope you can forgive me for not hoping for your safe return. This meeting is over.” Lord Eranander gave his son a cold look before stalking out of the room.
Linwyn reached over and laced her twin’s fingers through her own. Golaron seemed unaware, staring after their father.
Barlo leaned toward Iarion. “I think that went rather well, don’t you?”
– Chapter Fourteen –
Scouting Ahead
Iarion and his companions waited for nightfall before setting out. Despite Lord Eranander’s grudging acceptance of their departure, his servants ensured they were well equipped for their journey. They were even given mounts from the lord’s own stable.
They were to be led by a young dwarf named Lorugo. He had a fair command of the Common Tongue and was Galhalga’s nephew. Lorugo seemed proud his uncle had chosen him to lead them to Dwarfhaven. Iarion suspected it was Galhalga’s way of getting the young and overly enthusiastic dwarf away from the inevitable battle to come.
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