Several more platters of steamed potatoes, venison steaks and immense sausages went by, and then a hush descended upon the hall. There followed several more speeches, which Alandrian attempted to translate as best he could. Most of them spoke about family honour, great tragedies and valour in battle, and after a while Malekith stopped listening to his lieutenant and allowed his mind to drift.
It was then he felt a sharp dig in his ribs and looked around to see Alandrian looking at him pointedly. Casting his gaze around the smoky hall, the prince saw that all eyes were turned upon him.
“It is your turn to make a toast, I believe,” whispered Alandrian with a mischievous smile. “Shall I translate?”
“I would think it better not to,” said Malekith. “I know that you have learnt well their strange tongue, but I would not have you accidentally call the king a bloated warthog on my behalf. I shall sound so suitably imperious and charismatic, the exact meaning of my words will not be necessary to convey their spirit.”
The prince of Nagarythe stood up, while Kurgrik leaned over and refilled his tankard with a beer that was so thick and black it could have been mistaken for pitch.
“Your good health!” said Malekith, raising the cup to the hall. The dwarfs sat in respectful expectation, hands hovering close to their tankards. They had no idea what the prince had just said.
“What is the matter with them?” Malekith hissed out of the side of his mouth whilst trying to maintain a genteel smile.
“I think they want something a little, well, longer,” said Alandrian. “You will have to go on a bit, I believe, to make them think they have been given a proper oratory.”
“Very well,” said Malekith, turning his attention towards the king of the hold. “Your halls here are mighty, and full of great wonders. I have marvelled at the skills of your people, and I know in my heart that an alliance with you shall bring much benefit to my people.”
A glance towards Alandrian received an encouraging nod, and Malekith continued. Seeing the polite but clueless expressions on the sea of faces before him, the prince decided to indulge himself a little.
“You are very fine people, if a little unwashed and short.”
The elves laughed quietly at this, and taking their cue the dwarfs joined in, chortling uncertainly.
“It has been mostly my pleasure to meet you all, though I have not a clue what your names are, and all of you look pretty much the same to me.”
Another sideways glance at Alandrian was received with a pout of disapproval, but Malekith ignored his aide and carried on with his joke.
“That your mouths produce as much smoke as your chimneys is surprising, and if I do not choke to death before the evening is out, I shall thank the gods for protecting me. I understand that we have only just met, but I hope that in time you will understand the great privilege I have granted you all by allowing you into my presence. There are people of my own homeland who have never been granted an audience with me, and yet here I am, sinking cupfuls of your foul broth and treating you like equals. I am assured that you are an honourable people, and you best well be.”
At this point Malekith stood up and raised his foot upon the table to lean forwards, a feat not difficult for the slender elf, for the table barely came above his knees.
“Know this!” the prince proclaimed, his voice ringing clearly across the hall, focussing the attention of even the most drunkard audience member. “It will go well for you that we should become friends. The Naggarothi do not treat idly with others, even elves of other realms. Should you wrong us, our vengeance will be sure, swift and deadly. We will burn these halls and we will pile your corpses upon pyres so high that they will rival these mountains. We shall be content to let you dwell in these rocky peaks, and we shall take the lowlands and the forests. Should you oppose us, we will have no option but to drive you before us, as we have the orcs and the beasts and the goblins. I look forward to meeting your High King, for he shall hopefully be of an almost equal standing to myself, and of intelligence enough to treat with me. But I warn you, if I am not impressed with him, I may decide simply to slay all of you. In fact, the next one of you that mispronounces my name might just get my blade through his gizzard. While we may deign to learn your crude language, please do not mangle the heritage of my forefathers and the legacy to my descendants with your ugly lips and thick tongues.”
Raising his goblet once again, Malekith grinned broadly.
“Long may Nagarythe prevail over you all!” he declared.
Before the prince could say any more, Alandrian shot to his feet and gave a shout of celebration, his mug upraised. The other elves, some of them clearly shocked, the rest wearing looks of approval, did likewise; the dwarfs then slowly followed their lead until there was a great rousing cheer that filled the hall with a cacophony of shouting and the slamming of cups upon tables.
“Thank you,” said Malekith, holding up a hand for silence. The dwarfs appeared not to understand the gesture for they continued their banging and clapping.
With Alandrian’s hand on his arm pulling him down before he could speak further, Malekith sat, a contented smile upon his face.
This seemed to conclude the round of speeches, and servants came forth bearing great bowls of steaming pudding made from boiled grain and honey, with chunks of stodgy cake to dip into the sweet broth. This was followed by platters of hard cheeses that smelt of diseased goats, as far as Malekith could tell, which were served with small biscuits with the texture and taste of thin slices of dried wood.
Under the stone roof of the hall, Malekith lost all sense of passing time and knew not whether it was midnight or if dawn was fast approaching when the elves were finally allowed to retire to their dormitories. Many of the dwarfs still caroused, though a significant proportion of their number had simply slipped into inebriated stupors at the tables.
For the highest-ranking attendees, the servants brought small pillows, which were carefully placed under the snoring faces of the inebriated lords. The lesser peons were allowed to doze away, their faces in spillages and crumbs.
All Malekith knew was that the banquet had been more tiring than the march, but he went to bed invigorated nonetheless for his overly full stomach, both appalled and yet mesmerised by the strange culture of these people.
On the one hand they were loud, careless and ignorant of any form of etiquette, yet he had seen much evidence that they were also studious, observant, dedicated and loyal. Their attention to detail in matters of craftsmanship equalled that of the elves, and in weapon-making and the construction of mechanical devices their knowledge outstripped that of Ulthuan. That they knew of magic was clear from many of the things Malekith had seen in the hold, yet he had not seen any dwarf openly wielding sorcery, and when Alandrian had enquired on the prince’s behalf, he had been met with polite but stern denials that the dwarfs had wizards of any kind.
—
The High King
Malekith was eager to continue their journey to the hold of the High King, and was grateful that Kurgrik apparently had a schedule of his own to keep. The thane’s shipment of wood was sorely needed for the mines beneath Karaz-a-Karak, and the party, dwarfs and elves, left the city of Karak Kadrin early the next day.
The king came to wave them off, and seemed much more approachable and friendly away from the formality of his court. He shook the hands of each of the elves in turn, and patted Malekith fondly on the arm. He said something in dwarfish, and Malekith smiled and nodded, not bothering to listen to Alandrian’s translation.
Malekith and the party did not travel back to the main gates, but were taken by an underground route to another entrance. Though slightly less grand, this portal was no less impressive to the prince, for it led not to the surface but to a vast passageway dug through the bedrock of the mountain. Due south it struck, paved with flags and large enough for many carts and dwarfs to pass each other by with ease.
Lanterns lit the underground highway, and the wall
s were hewn so smoothly that no shadow darkened them. Great pillars of wood and metal shored up the roof, which was easily four or five times the height of an elf.
For this stage of the journey, they travelled upon the backs of rocking carts. It was not entirely unpleasant, though the lack of night and day began to wear upon Malekith’s nerves. After three days, he wondered just how far this tunnel was. After six, he was longing for a sight of sun or stars, or even a storm-filled sky.
Periodically they came across guard stations, not unlike underground versions of the way-forts they had stayed in on the surface. Warriors with strange-looking, mechanical bows patrolled outwards from these subterranean castles.
Branchways and side tunnels broke off from the main road in clustered junctions, and there was always a steady traffic of dwarfs on wagons and on foot. They carried all manner of goods with them: metal ingots, sacks of coal, bushels of crops, mining tools and all manner of other wares.
By the eighth day, Malekith’s interest had been restored, for he was now fully realising the extent of the dwarfen realm. They had covered no less than fifteen leagues each day, and so had travelled three hundred and sixty miles or more. The highway went pretty much straight and so he guessed that they were still heading south. If the side passages and other exits each led to other holds and settlements, then the mountains were swarming with dwarfs.
Some of the prince’s earlier arrogance dissipated as he pondered the huge implication of an alliance with these people. If the Naggarothi could forge this friendship with speed, then his people would increase the power they already held in the colonies.
Knowing this, he now paid more attention to the dealings the dwarfs had with each other, and tried harder to get a rough grasp of their language from Alandrian. He endeavoured to learn the names of his dwarfish companions: outlandish monikers such as Gundgrin, Borodin, Hagrun and Barrnok. He learned the words for sword, and axe, and that this highway was called the Ungdrin Ankor.
He learned their word for gold, and another, and another, until he was thoroughly confused. During a break, Malekith steered Alandrian into a quiet alcove and confronted his lieutenant on the matter.
“Azgal, churk, bryn, galaz, gnolgen, gorl, konk, thig, ril, skrottiz…” Malekith complained. “All of these hideous words, and I cannot work out which one means gold! How am I supposed to learn this stupid language?”
“They all mean gold, highness,” Alandrian said patiently.
“Gold’s gold!” said Malekith. “Why do they need so many damned words for it?”
“Gold is, indeed, gold, highness,” said Alandrian, pulling a neck chain from under his robe, upon which hung a small dwarfish amulet he had been gifted by Kurgrik. “To a dwarf, however, there are lots of types of gold. The gold on the outer edge, with the reddish tinge, is konk. The inner design is made from a slightly softer metal that they call gorl.”
“I understand,” said Malekith, not understanding at all. Alandrian read the doubt on the prince’s face.
“We see one metal, which we call gold,” the captain explained slowly, placing the amulet back under his robe. “The dwarfs see all sorts of different metals and they have a name for each one.”
“So, each word means a different type of gold?” Malekith said. “Soft gold, hard gold, shinier gold, that sort of thing?”
“That sort of thing, yes, highness,” said Alandrian with a reassuring nod.
“But there can’t be that many types of gold, surely?” said Malekith.
“Not physically, no,” Alandrian said. His face screwed up in consternation as he worked out how to explain further. “To the dwarfs, gold has other qualities, not just physical ones.”
“Such as?” Malekith said.
“Well, there is lucky gold, for a start,” said Alandrian.
“Lucky gold?” Malekith’s brows arrowed into a frown.
“Gold that was found by accident, for example,” replied Alandrian.
“Seems strange, but then they are a strange folk,” said Malekith.
“The type of gold also changes depending on where it came from, where it currently is and its own history,” Alandrian continued under the prince’s demanding stare. “There’s a word for gold that is an ingot and hasn’t yet been made into something. There’s a different word for gold that was once made into something else but has been melted down to make something new. There’s gold that is for spending, what they call impatient, and gold that is for keeping. That’s almost the same word as they use for waiting or patience. Then there’s gold that you don’t own yet, such as ore or a loan. Of course, that also means there are words for gold that you would like to own, or once owned—”
“Enough!” snapped Malekith. “So, they have lots of words for gold. I cannot be expected to learn them all.”
“Oh no, highness,” said Alandrian. “Not even the dwarfs know all the names for gold, apparently. They can make up any name for gold they like and another dwarf will probably understand what they mean.”
Alandrian cast a look over his shoulder at the dwarfs climbing back on the wagons, making ready to leave.
“It’s probably best not to mention gold too much, in any case,” Alandrian said. “Whenever I mention it, they get a queer look in their eyes. Some of them get quite excited. I once mentioned the golden gates of Lothern and Kurgrik almost fainted!”
“So, it is best not to tell them that we have huge treasuries in Athel Toralien?” said Malekith. “Just in case they come over funny and decide to try to take it?”
“Yes, highness, something like that,” said Alandrian.
Malekith nodded knowingly and glanced over his companion’s shoulder to see Kurgrik scowling ever so slightly in the prince’s direction. Malekith smiled cheerily and waved, trying to ignore the picture he had of the thane frothing at the mouth and pawing at a coin.
On the tenth day they turned from the main road, heading west as far as Malekith could judge. Here the traffic increased considerably and Malekith surmised that the capital was not far away. Kurgrik was more animated, and from the comparatively few words that the prince had learned and through the translation of Alandrian, it seemed that they would be at their destination the next day.
Malekith became agitated the closer they came to their destination, and constantly harangued Alandrian to find out more about the dwarfs, and in particular, their High King. On this, Kurgrik proved strangely reticent, saying only that his name was Snorri Whitebeard, and that he was the first to rule over all the holds. The following day, Malekith was to meet this dignitary.
As the caravan readied for the march, Malekith took out his finest cloak from his stores; purple embroidered with golden thread in a design of two dragons coiling about each other. The prince scented his hair with perfumes from his pack, and swept it back over his shoulders with a silver band embellished with five rubies and three diamonds, each cut and polished into an oval as large as a fingertip. Feeling suitably regal, he sat on the wagon at the front of the column alongside Kurgrik. His pride was somewhat punctured by the fact that he had to almost tuck his knees under his chin to fit on the seat.
The gateway from the Ungdrin Ankor to the capital of the dwarf realm was a wide set of golden doors mounted upon a series of gears and cogs that allowed them to be opened effortlessly with a single push despite their immense weight. They were inscribed with many vertical lines of runes, each separated by a sparkling diamond.
The gates were flanked by two pillars of black marble, intricately carved with ancestor faces that glowered at all who approached. The tiles of the floor had an endless array of designs upon them. Kurgrik said something to Alandrian.
“Every clan symbol of the hold is carved into these stones,” Alandrian explained.
Malekith accepted this without word and turned his warrior eye to the gates’ defences. Side chambers with stout iron doors looked out upon the corridor, with shuttered windows and murder holes so that defenders could pour arrows into any attacker from almos
t complete safety. A glance up revealed other openings through which oil could be poured.
Malekith noted all this and, combining it with what he had seen of the great gate of Karak Kadrin, decided that the holds were all but impregnable. With the Ungdrin Ankor to link the cities underground, even protracted siege was impossible, for unless one could control the subterranean highway, there was no way to cut off supplies. Despite these formidable defences, Malekith knew that no stronghold was ever totally secure, but such would be the cost of taking such a city, it was far better to broker a friendship with these people than to anger them.
Dismounting from their carts, Kurgrik and his companions were met with slaps on the back and hearty greetings from their fellow dwarfs as the party passed into the hold. There were curious looks from these dwarfs at the elves, but nothing like the amazement and interest they had raised in Karak Kadrin.
As they progressed into Karaz-a-Karak, the feeling grew more pronounced; these dwarfs already seemed familiar with elf-kind. Recalling Kurgrik’s first reaction to Malekith, it seemed that in retrospect the thane had not been surprised to see the elves in and of themselves, but rather to find them in that place.
Malekith’s fears were confirmed when they were conveyed by an escort of heavily armed warriors to the throne room of the High King. The chamber was even larger and more opulent than that of Karak Kadrin, and was hung with so many shields, banners and gold emblems that barely a patch of rock could be seen between them. The entire floor was tiled with gold and inset with rubies, and the ceiling was awash with lanterns. More than a hundred steps led up to the dais upon which a large throne was set, similarly bedecked with gold and jewels. Dozens of dwarfs of noble dress and bearing were gathered about the hall.
Most notable of all, and to which Malekith’s eyes were immediately drawn, were the two elves stood beside the throne in deep conversation with the king.
[Sundering 01] - Malekith Page 7