Utan bristled at Bolrakei’s disrespectful tone.
Skemtun sighed in frustration. “Please, Bolrakei! I Ye’re only doing things to aggravate the situation. Ye’re only makin’ things worse!”
“He’s right,” said Utan. “No one is arguin’ here except you.”
Bolrakei blinked hard, gritted her teeth, and turned her head in defiance. “Humph!” But then she was silent.
“We didn’t come here to fight with you,” said Skemtun. “We came here to talk.”
“Who’s fightin’? It certainly isn’t us,” said Utan. “We’ve been hearin’ rumors about how ye intended to come here and teach us a lesson—how ye planned yer revenge against us. We came here to make a new life for ourselves. All we wanted was to be left in peace, and now ye’ve shown up outside our gates! We assumed that ye planned to attack us. Ye can’t blame us for takin’ precautions.”
Skemtun pointed to the gaunt women and children behind him. “Utan, look at us. Do we look like we’re in any shape to attack anyone? Half our men are dead. All our spellcasters are gone. The greenskins completely destroyed our home.”
Utan shot a sympathetic glance towards the women and children. “I’m sorry about yer losses…I heard that the greenskins attacked Mount Velik, but I never thought the city would fall. I’m also sorry about what yer clans went through, but ye should have been better prepared for the siege. As for yer difficult journey, well, every Vardmiter knows how hard the journey from Mount Velik is. We all had to make that trip ourselves when we left.”
“No one forced ye to leave,” Skemtun said quietly. “Ye decided that all by yerself.”
“Right,” Utan said bitterly. “Just like it was yer idea to treat us like dirt! We didn’t have any choice but to leave! Can’t ye see that? It was either leave or continue to be treated like pests and vermin. So we left, and created a new life for ourselves. And now ye’ve come here, begging for help. What would ye do in my shoes?”
Skemtun answered quietly. “I’m askin’ for help, Utan—that much is true. We need a safe place for our women and children, at least until we can decide what to do next. Is that too much to ask?”
Utan glanced back at his own soldiers. “I’m not sure if my people are ready to forgive how badly they were treated. Why should I make an effort to help ye, after everything that yer clans have done to mine?”
“We’re yer people, too, Utan,” said Skemtun quietly. “If ye leave us to fend for ourselves, more of us will die. Is that what ye want?”
Utan fell silent, his resolve wavering. “Aye, no….ye’re right.”
“Please help us,” Skemtun continued, “I can’t do anythin’ about the past, and I’m sorry about that, but if ye turn us away now, ye’re killin’ us as surely as if ye take axes to our skulls. Ye can see how weak and hungry most of us are. The orcs have been harassin’ us for the entire journey. We were attacked again just yesterday, and if the dragon riders hadn’t come to our rescue, even more of us would ‘ave died.”
Utan paused and sighed deeply. “Alright, alright. I’ll help ye, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let ye inside our mountain. There isn’t enough space for all of ye here; most of our caves are still unfinished, and it’s cramped enough as it is.” When Skemtun looked surprised, Utan snorted. “What did ye expect? Do ye think that all yer clans could just show up outside this mountain and have my clan provide for ye like before? That’s not going to happen! The Vardmiter clan is independent now. If anything, we’re better off without any of ye here.”
Bolrakei clenched her fists. “How dare you speak to us this way!”
Utan’s bottled outrage sputtered to the surface. “Did everyone hear that? That’s exactly the type of response that I would expect from such a shrew! Ye’re beggin’ for us to help, and ye still have the nerve to insult me. After everything that’s happened, ye still think ye’re better than us.” There was a moment of sharp silence as he turned to walk away. “Bah! I’m finished with the lot of ye.”
Skemtun shouted, “Wait! Please, wait!”
Utan turned slightly. “Just what do ye want?”
“Look,” Skemtun pleaded, “Don’t listen to Bolrakei. I’ll admit that I’ve treated yer clan badly in the past. Yes, there are many things we need to talk through, but my people need food and shelter now. If that means beggin’ at yer feet…” The old dwarf battled his pride for a moment. “Then I’ll do it.” Skemtun got down on his knees and clasped his hands.
Utan stared at him with a shocked expression. He paused for a long moment before finally speaking. “Ye can stand up. Beggin’ won’t be necessary. My people will bring out food and blankets for ye. We’ll help yer people construct shelters tomorrow.”
“We can’t come inside?” Skemtun asked.
Utan shook his head. “No. I’ll help ye, and I’ll feed ye, but yer clans are not welcome inside the Highport Caverns. Is that understood? Anyone who doesn’t like it is certainly welcome to leave.” Then he turned and left.
Skemtun sighed and lowered his head. It wasn’t the outcome he’d hoped for, but it was better than nothing.
The rest of the Vardmiters trailed back inside the mountain, with only a few guards remaining posted at the main gate.
Skemtun walked back to his clan and explained the situation. Some were happy that they would have food and blankets, but more than a few dwarves—and most of Bolrakei’s clan—were angry that they hadn’t been invited inside the mountain.
After a moment, Bolrakei went up to Skemtun and poked his chest. “That didn’t go very well. We’re in the same position as when we got here—stuck outside like wild animals.”
“No thanks to you!” Skemtun spat.
“Humph!” she grunted. “It’s obvious to me that the Vardmiters haven’t learned any respect or any ground rules for civilized behavior.”
“Don’t you dare do anything to disrupt things here,” warned Skemtun.
“Oh don’t worry,” Bolrakei said. “I’m not going to start any more arguments, at least not now. They can help us, alright. But afterwards, when we’re stronger, we’ll have to put the Vardmiters back in their proper place.” She turned around and stomped back to her friends.
Once Bolrakei was out of earshot, Kathir muttered angrily, “Life would be a lot easier for everyone if the orcs had killed her.”
Skemtun shot him a look. “Be quiet! Please don’t talk about her like that—someone could overhear ye. Things are difficult enough as it is.”
“She’s intolerable,” said Kathir.
Skemtun nodded. “I know, I know. I’ll have to keep an eye on her. I can’t let her ruin things”
At least they both agreed on that. Whatever nasty tricks she was planning, neither one of them was about to let her get away with it.
7. Negotiations
All the clans agreed to hold a peace talk a few days later. Bolrakei, Skemtun, and the dragon riders were invited inside the Highport Caverns for the first time. Although the smaller caves were unfinished, the main cavern was enormous. Huge stalagmites made for difficult walking, and none of the footpaths were finished. The sound of dripping water in the background followed them wherever they went.
Inside the caves, the temperature was cool, and the air smelled faintly of moss and fertilizer. Torches lined the walls, but only a few of them were lit, in order to conserve fuel. There was also the ever-present odor of pig meal.
“Where is all your livestock?” asked Skemtun.
“We only raise pigs. The pens are outside the mountain, on the banks of the creek. It’s easier to feed and care for them there. Plus, the smell is less bothersome when their pens are outside.”
Utan led them to a small meeting room close to the gates, and they all sat down at a rough-hewn table. The floor of the cave was covered with fine sand.
Kathir leaned against the wall and prepared to watch the proceedings
in silence. As an outsider with no rank, Kathir was barred from speaking. Bolrakei had tried to block Kathir’s entry into the negotiation, But Skemtun had insisted that he be allowed to observe, since Bolrakei insisted on bringing several of her advisors.
The dragon riders, Sela and Elias, were also present, but acting only as observers.
Once they all sat down, it didn’t take long for the dwarves to start arguing.
“…I’m just saying that everyone needs to pull their own weight,” Utan said.
“My clan can’t spend their time doing menial labor,” Bolrakei sniffed. “We’re highly-skilled artisans. We earn more money cutting gemstones. That’s what we’re trained to do. We would be most useful in that role.”
Silence hung in the room for a moment.
Utan shook his head. “I won’t allow that. Ye just want things to go back to how they were before. We have no use for yer baubles and gewgaws here! What we really need is more farmers and laborers.”
“You’re being unreasonable!” Bolrakei said.
“I’m not bein’ unreasonable,” argued Utan. “If ye want to share this mountain with us, Klorra-Kanna must do their share of the hard labor, just like everybody else.”
“That’s ridiculous!” she replied, her voice rising to a shout.
Skemtun sat between them, not responding. He was totally shocked and didn’t know what to say.
“Ye think that shouting will get ye what ye want,” Utan continued. “Well, it won’t work! Not here. My people can wait inside this mountain forever, and we don’t ever have to allow ye inside. Shout until ye’re blue in the face, for all I care. Ye’re the ones who need our help, not the other way around.”
Bolrakei pounded her fist on the table. “You forget yourself! My ancestry is royal—do you even understand what that means?”
Utan’s eyes locked onto hers. “Yer bloodline means nothing to me, Bolrakei, and it never will. There aren’t any princesses here.”
“How dare you speak to me so disrespectfully—how dare you!” Bolrakei cried, springing to her feet. “I come from royal blood. I deserve to be queen by right! I am from the highest family, and your father was nothing more than a lowly peasant farmer!”
Utan gasped. “How dare ye insult my family! I’m done here! This negotiation is over!”
“Wait—are ye sure you want to give up so quickly?” asked Skemtun, finally speaking.
“I’m leavin’,” said Utan. “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”
Skemtun sighed and put his face in his hands. He knew that the negotiations couldn’t continue without Utan. If he wouldn’t agree to a treaty, then they were stuck at a stalemate.
Utan gave the dragon riders a respectful nod and left the negotiation room. “My guards will escort ye all out. The dragon riders are welcome to stay.”
Bolrakei spun on her heel and left, followed by her advisors.
“This is hopeless,” Skemtun muttered. “Bolrakei is ruining everything.”
“We’ll try again in a few days,” said Kathir quietly. “Maybe the dragon riders can talk some sense into her.”
“Maybe,” said Skemtun, but he was doubtful. It was frustrating to have to return to his people without any good news to report. Bolrakei was the problem, but at least half the dwarves supported her unquestioningly—partly because of her high birth, but also because of her unwavering belief in the superiority of the “old ways.”
Even under these difficult circumstances, most of the clans still considered the Vardmiters beneath them, and they expected the Vardmiters to capitulate to their demands.
Old prejudices were hard to break. Skemtun was learning that the hard way.
They walked outside, and Skemtun paused on the hillside to view the camp. The refugee camp sprawled before them on the lower slopes of the mountain. Many dwarves were constructing outdoor shelters with whatever materials they could find. There were a few large tents, wooden lean-tos, and simple shacks. Skemtun didn’t like the idea of living the rest of his life outside a mountain; it just wasn’t the way dwarves should live.
Bolrakei and a few of her advisors had claimed a nicer section of the camp for themselves. She had also bullied other dwarves into building her a large shelter so she could protect her jewel boxes.
“We need to find a way to break this deadlock,” said Skemtun quietly as they headed back toward the camp. “The longer this goes on, the harder it’ll be to change anything.”
“Bolrakei is the main problem,” replied Kathir. “Utan dislikes her intensely, and I can’t say I blame him. Can’t you just overrule her?”
Skemtun shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I can’t oppose her directly without splitting the clans even further. She’s got powerful supporters, and she’s descended from a very important family. Her lineage means a lot, especially to her own clan. Many dwarves who believe exactly as she does—they believe that the Vardmiters are beneath us. I’ll admit that I used to feel the same way myself.”
“You’ll have to work something out soon,” Kathir said. “How long can your people live exposed on this side of a mountain? There’s a blanket of snow on the ground, and it’s getting colder every day.”
“At least we have enough to eat.” Skemtun tried to remain positive, but he knew that things were bad. Two more of his clan had died last night. Even with enough food, Highport was a harsh place.
“I don’t understand what Bolrakei is gaining from this,” Kathir said.
“She’s very prideful, but she isn’t stupid. Klorra-Kanna became the richest clan in dwarvish history under her rule—she’s rich beyond all measure. If there’s one thing Bolrakei knows how to do well, it’s how to make money. ”
Skemtun and Kathir kept walking through the camp. They went silent for a moment as they approached a group of dwarves huddled in a circle. They cooked a freshly skinned rabbit over a small campfire. Skemtun stopped to greet them.
Kathir stepped back a respectful distance and took some time to think. He’d spent a lot of time working for powerful people who manipulated those around them. Once they resumed walking, he asked Skemtun, “What if Bolrakei’s motives are more sinister? Maybe creating obstacles is part of her plan. Could she aggravate things until a final battle occurs?”
“It’s possible, I suppose.”
Kathir looked at his friend. “What happens when your clans are so sick and tired of freezing outside that they attempt to take this mountain by force?”
Skemtun sighed. “Most of our soldiers are dead, and the Vardmiters don’t have any military trainin’. A battle between the clans would be a disaster. Both sides would suffer heavy casualties.”
Kathir frowned. “We know that, but does Bolrakei? Does she even care?”
“She sees the Vardmiters as a bunch of misfits, so deep down, she believes we can beat them. She’s blinded by her arrogance and prejudice.”
“You have to stop her,” Kathir insisted.
The old dwarf sighed. “I know that, but what would ye have me do? I can’t oppose her, at least not openly. Her clan is too powerful.”
“Come on, man! Take charge here. Go talk to Utan. Alone.”
“And what if Bolrakei discovers that I went behind her back?” Skemtun countered. “I’m not a king! I’m just a clan leader. I don’t have more authority than she does. In fact, I have less.”
Kathir shook his head. He said simply, “Don’t be afraid! Don’t be afraid of her. You can strike your own deal with Utan. Negotiate for your people. Her followers can stay outside on the mountain if they want. Anyone who decides to follow you can just join your clan inside.”
“If I try something underhanded like that, Bolrakei will have me stripped of my office.”
Kathir rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Come on! That’s just bloody politics talking! Your people are freezing to death out here!” Kathi
r paused and took a deep breath. “You have to ask yourself which is more important—politics or your people.”
Skemtun flinched, and Kathir could tell that his words had hit a nerve. Skemtun paused and looked up at the mountain. Grey clouds swirled overhead. It was the middle of the afternoon, but dark and gloomy in the woods. The weather would be freezing tonight.
“All right,” he said finally. “Ye’re right…the lives of my people are what’s important. I don’t know how much good it will do, but I’ll talk to Utan. But I can’t be seen going inside the mountain by myself! That will cause too much suspicion. Listen…why don’t you talk to him—as my representative? Go speak to Utan for me.”
“What do you want me to say to him?” Kathir asked.
Skemtun rapped his finger on his chin. “Tell Utan that my people are prepared to do their share of the work. We’ll be farmers, or laborers, or miners—whatever he wants us to do, we’ll do it. We’ll carve our own sleepin’ caves inside the mountain, and we’ll do any work that we need to. In return, we get our share of the food, as well as shelter inside the mountain until our sleepin’ caves are finished.”
“There’ll be other questions,” Kathir said. “Questions about leadership and the way decisions are made.”
Skemtun spread his hands. “Let’s take this one step at a time. We can negotiate the rest of it as we go along. Now go. But go quietly, and try not to call too much attention to yourself!”
Kathir nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m very good at moving through forests without being noticed.” Kathir slipped back through the camp and into a layer of trees. He made his way back toward the front gates, but not directly. He paused for a moment when he spotted a member of Bolrakei’s personal entourage walking nearby. He recognized him as one of Bolrakei’s personal guards, but he was wearing a hooded cloak and scruffier clothing than usual, as if he were trying to blend in with the crowds.
The dwarf moved furtively around the camp and stopped every now and to look back and see if he was being followed. Kathir jogged behind him and ducked behind a tree so that he could continue to watch the dwarf. He would walk a few steps through the camp, pause at a tent or a tree, look back, and then go forward rapidly again. He moved cautiously, studying his surroundings very carefully.
Kathir's Redemption (Book 6) Page 8