Machai nodded his appreciation and sat silently, waiting to hear where the other two stood.
“I be thinking ye all be crazy. Even if he be armed with me best weapon, no caldereth imposter can be getting through the FireFalls protections. I’d be happy to be thrusting me finest blade in his chest if he be trying.” Before Kablis could interrupt with an objection, Phel said, “But if he be seeking to be putting me blades in the hands of animated corpses, I be traveling with ye to the furthest reaches of Archana to be thrusting me blade into ’im there. There be no excuse to be corrupting the good magic of Archana that way.”
“Aye,” Gerbim added. “He be evil, and evil ever be finding a way to be spreading its tendrils afar. Ye be having me support as well, boys.”
Machai and Kablis smiled and released tense breaths. They were overwhelmingly relieved to find that they had support from so many talented dwarves. However, having the pledged aid of friends was only a fraction of what they had come home for. They needed to raise a significant force to join the Aranthians, and they couldn’t do that by convincing two or three dwarves at a time. Machai stood and squared his shoulders, looking around him at the other ten men in the room. He wouldn’t be appealing to Thenar alone, but he wanted to be sure he took the right men with him for the job.
Although Thenar would hold Kablis primarily responsible for the lost shipment, the seasoned dwarf had been one of the clan leader’s most trusted men. That’s why he was given the responsibility of heading up the delivery of weapons in the first place. Even if Kablis’s presence angered Thenar, Machai needed to show that he had the support of such a widely respected dwarf, and Kablis had been there with him at the battles. If Pavyn was already on Thenar’s bad side, he should stay behind. Batrel, Lers, Ieal, and Tagel had been with Kablis on the delivery, and they were the only four of Kablis’s men who had made it through the battles and into FireFalls without being detected. Morgo and Krind would be valuable allies in the discussion, as both commanded a great deal of respect with the clan. Morgo ran the forges where all weapons and armor were made, and Krind was the kiln master. They both oversaw many men, and their opinions would go far in persuading men to aid the Aranthians. However, Thenar would not look favorably upon the two abandoning their posts to discuss taking so many able fighters far from the walls of the clan stronghold. It would probably be best if they returned to work and used the time to get a feel for the minds of their workers on the matter. Just before Machai could announce his thoughts on the matter, a familiar but unwelcome face appeared in the doorway.
“Well, what be this? Do ye be having a reunion celebration while yer companions be rotting in the dungeons?” Threed’s gravelly voice was full of contempt. “Or do ye be recruiting for yer next plot of treason?”
“Ye be out of line, Threed. Yer words be earning ye a thrashing. These dwarves be more loyal to the clan than ye be to anything but yerself,” Krind snarled. “I willn’t be hearing no more of yer accusations.”
“Ye willn’t be having to be listening to me, betrayer. Did ye not be thinking that when we be catching Kablis’s men as they be running with tucked tails that we’d be coming for ye? Thenar be waiting for ye all,” Threed spat back.
Machai could see the confused faces of many armed guards hovering in the passageway behind Threed. Rather than allow the turn of events to lower the conviction of his allies, Machai strode forward and slapped Threed on the shoulder.
“That be fantastic. We be needing to be speaking with Thenar about a few matters. It be good to be seeing ye again.” Machai smiled widely at the dwarves behind Threed, and the tension in their postures seemed to lessen. He turned back toward his companions in the room. “Be ye ready, boys? Thenar be expecting a report, and we be making a few requests, aye?”
“Aye.” The response was hesitant from some and adamant from others, but all ten dwarves rose up together and joined Machai at the door. Machai stared Threed squarely in the eye.
“Will ye be escorting us, then?”
Threed glared at Machai’s implication that he was there to lead the willing party, rather than his own view of having captured nearly a dozen rebels. He turned and marched up the stone corridor without a word. Machai, Kablis, and the others fell into step behind him, saying hello to familiar faces and laughing with the guards as they always had. Even if Thenar wanted them under guard, there was no reason to let the guards think that was necessary. Machai and Pavyn had trained many of the men who were sent to apprehend them, and many had served under Kablis or alongside his men. Machai needed to keep them thinking of him and his companions as friends and clan brothers, rather than letting them be swayed by the rumors of betrayal and treason spread by the likes of Threed.
Thenar was waiting in the Grand Hall, a cavernous but richly adorned meeting hall carved into the stone of the mountain several levels below where the group had been. The ride on the lift sounded as lighthearted and casual as ever, much to the disgust of Threed, as the men jostled and joked with each other. Machai’s confidence had taken all of the bite out of the dwarf, and he made no attempt to chastise the men, for fear of losing even more authority. He was one of Thenar’s favored aides, a bit on the thin side with an unusually neat beard, and he had a small, jingling pouch always lashed to his belt. Threed stood at the entrance to the hall in a victorious pose as the guards led Machai and the others in with more serious expressions than they had worn on the journey from Kablis’s quarters.
Thenar struck an imposing figure on the raised dais at the front of the room. His long, gray beard complemented the silver chainmail that draped his torso. A heavy cape trailed from his shoulders, runes of power embroidered onto the thick fabric in threads of gold along the hem. His hands were still hard from the callouses of daily weapon training, and his aged and wrinkled skin was thickened and greyed, resembling stone more than flesh. His sharp eyes took in every detail of Machai’s confident show and the hesitant dread of most of his party. Though he had tolerated Machai’s arguments the last time they had spoken, Thenar showed no indication that he would allow the same level of insubordination in such a public display as this would be. Machai prepared himself for the oncoming tirade.
Thenar eyed the party silently from his position on the raised platform. As the quiet dragged on, the group grew more uncomfortable and less confident in their convictions. Ieal and Tagel fidgeted slightly, but the others stood still, defiant against the silence. Finally, Thenar spoke with age and authority resonating in his gravelly voice.
“Ye be defying me orders. Ye be sacrificing me men. Ye be engaging in acts of war that I be not declaring. Ye be compromising the security of our home.” He spoke slowly, accentuating each phrase with an angry but controlled snarl. “Ye be treasonous wretches, and ye be earning the name of Betrayer. What say ye”—his eyes pierced like daggers into each of the men in turn before resting on one—“Kablis?”
“Ye be correct that I be defying ye, Thenar.” Kablis stood straight-backed with his head up, meeting the eye of his clan leader directly, but his voice was calm and respectful. “But ye be wrong that I be treasonous. Me actions be in the interest of the clan, and ye be too quick to be naming me Betrayer. Though ye be not declaring the war, it be only a matter of time before the war be declared on ye.”
“Who be ye to be deciding the interest of the clan? Ye, who be losing the largest shipment of weapons we ever be sending through our gate? Ye, who be listening to the sniveling of a soft-hearted sap rather than the iron word of yer clan leader? Ye, who be letting half yer men turn tail and run on an approach to yer own door?”
“Where be me men, Thenar? Threed be saying they be in the dungeons. That be no place for loyal members of yer clan.” Kablis’s tone remained calm, but those near him on the floor could see anger rising in his eyes.
“They be me men, Kablis, not yers!” Thenar’s voice climbed to a roar. “Ye should not be worrying about them.” The implied threat hung heavy in the air between them.
“Aye, Th
enar, they be yer men. Every one of them be loyal to ye and to the clan. As be every dwarf here on the floor before ye. We only be wanting to defeat evil before it be at our door.”
“Ye be speaking of war and of evil as if it be a concern of mine. I be caring little for the petty fighting between humans. The squabbling between those men be nothing to me but gold in me coffers and bread in yer belly. I be fearing no human!” Thenar slammed a fist into his palm for emphasis.
“Aye, but Dredek be no human.” Machai spoke for the first time since entering the room. Thenar’s gaze snapped toward him, fury in his expression at the interruption. Machai continued in a calm, pleading tone, “Thenar, we be needing to be speaking of matters beyond the cost of yer shipment and the blow to yer pride. This man be using magic that we never be hearing of or be seeing before, and it be a terrifying thing that he be seeking. Please, let us be putting aside this conflict and be discussing the necessity of war.”
“Ye be crossing me one time too many, Machai. Be silent, or be paying the price.”
“Thenar, I be willing to be taking any punishment ye be doling out for me failure to return when ye be ordering it, but Machai be correct. We need to be assembling a force to be aiding the Aranthians in their cause. Defeating Dredek be more important than me own desire to be gaining yer forgiveness,” Kablis said, his hands open before him in supplication.
“These doors be standing fast against many forces, and they shall be standing fast against any that be coming against them again. I willn’t be sending me men out to be dying just to be saving the lives of a few humans. Ye be cowards to be doubting the ability of our stronghold so easily.” Thenar’s anger was evident in his volume and tone. Machai could no longer restrain himself from yelling back.
“Ye be mocking Kablis for half of his men being caught by men we be training to be catching them, but ye should be more concerned about the six of us that be making it inside using magic unknown to our clan. If we be using it to be breaching our defenses, what will ye be doing when an enemy be doing the same?”
“Ye be gaining access to FireFalls with yer palm, just as ye always have. Do not be trying to scare me with yer tales of new magic.”
“Thenar, ye must be listening! Six of us be arriving at the door to FireFalls without being seen by our guards. Ye only be knowing we be here because the other six be Kablis’s men, and we be having no reason to be hiding from ye. One dwarf, near death, be all one needs to be getting through the door once he be reaching it. Ye be a fool if ye willn’t be seeing that. And an enemy may be using men he be considering disposable. What be keeping ’em from using the magic to be gaining direct access, the risks be damned?”
“Guards! Be getting this insolent fool out of me sight,” Thenar yelled. The guards on the floor rushed to do his bidding, though none showed any delight in the task. Threed stood back in the doorway with a victorious sneer as Machai was led off at swordpoint.
Kablis and the others watched in shock with varying expressions of disgust and worry on their faces as Machai was led off from the chamber. They were used to Thenar’s heavy hand when it came to protecting the clan and maintaining order and rule, but they found it hard to believe he would go so far as to put their clansmen in the dungeons like criminals when they were only trying to prevent war. Kablis’s expression quickly turned from disbelief to anger and then to acceptance. He stared up at his clan leader on the dais. Never before had he felt so little respect for the old dwarf. Suddenly the chainmail looked duller, and the heavily embroidered cape looked gaudy and pompous. Kablis no longer trusted that this bitter old man had the best interest of the clan in mind, and he couldn’t stand by as he made such important decisions out of spite and anger.
“Thenar,” Kablis called out clearly, his voice echoing off the chamber walls, “I regret to be defying ye once again, but ye be too blinded by yer rage to be deciding this point for the future of the clan. I be declaring a gathering. Will ye be bound by the ancient law and uphold the rites of our ancestors?”
“Aye, Kablis,” Thenar hissed down at him. “Ye shall be having yer gathering, and ye shall be bound by its oaths. I be giving ye three days. With all yer new magic, that should be sufficient, should it not?” Thenar turned his back on the group and exited from the back of the dais as Machai was marched off to the dungeons.
Kablis sighed in frustration, hoping he had not just severed a lifelong friendship with his clan leader. He wasn’t even sure they could accomplish a gathering, never mind win them over, but he would need Machai to pull it off.
* * *
Kablis sat at a large table, along with those who had accompanied him to the hall for the confrontation with Thenar, as well as the six of his men who had been captured on their attempt to enter FireFalls. Thenar had released them from the dungeons after granting Kablis his request to hold a gathering, but Machai still remained in a cell deep within the mountain.
“If we be wanting to have the gathering, we be needing Machai and more time. Do any of ye be having any ideas?” Kablis’s concern was apparent in his creased forehead and constant fidgeting, but none of the dwarves seemed to know how to solve the problems Kablis raised. He glanced around the table at them, hoping someone would be able to think of a way to get Machai released. “Aye, we be facing a mountain of trouble, boys.”
“I be having an idea,” Morgo said. Everyone turned to him expectantly and waited for him to share his thoughts. “Let us be going to the other clans. Perhaps there be a more reasonable dwarf to be hearing our plea than Thenar.” A few of the men laughed softly, but Kablis nodded thoughtfully.
“Ye may be onto something. We cannot be seeking an army from other clans against Thenar’s wishes, but we will need to be traveling to other clans to be raising a gathering. It may be that we can be recruiting a bit as we go.” Kablis turned to Gerbim. “It willn’t be solving our problems, but it may be helping at least. Gerbim, can ye be finding old Agrik? We need to be planning how to be finding our gathering members.”
“Aye, he should be easy to find.” Gerbim rose from the table and left the room. The others sat in silence, pondering the difficulty of their task. Gerbim returned surprisingly quickly followed by a dwarf in patchwork leather clothes. Agrik was an ancient-looking dwarf, with skin more wrinkled and gray than Thenar’s. He shuffled in behind Gerbim and took a seat at the table across from Kablis.
“Ye be summoning me for a purpose, but ye should be knowing I do not like being disturbed.”
“Aye, Agrik, I be knowing. Ye be the wisest dwarf I be knowing, and we be needing yer aid.” Kablis spoke with great respect in his tone. “We be intending to be raising a gathering, and I be needing yer expertise with the codes.”
“Aye.” Agrik’s voice was slow and gravelly, as though his long life had worn away any sense of urgency. “Ye be needing me expertise indeed.”
“Can ye be telling us what ye be knowing of the process? We cannot be failing in our attempt, and ye be knowing more than any dwarf in this clan about the gathering.” Kablis’s words were heartfelt, even in their flattery.
“Aye. If ye be sure a gathering be necessary, I can be telling ye what ye be needing. It willn’t be an easy task, though.”
“Aye, I be assuring ye, it be necessary. And we be prepared to be doing what be needed,” Kablis said.
“The gathering be an ancient tradition.” Agrik settled more comfortably into his seat, and his speech became more animated as he continued. “In the Dwarven Realm, before FireFalls or any other clan be existing, there be only one clan of dwarves. There be no clan leaders then.” Everyone listened intently to the old dwarf’s words, though all had heard the tale at the feet of their elders as children. “When the clan be needing a decision, and the minds be unsettled among the wisest of dwarves, a gathering be called. It be consisting of the nine eldest dwarves in the clan, and they be the ones who be deciding the fate of the matter.
“When the great freeze be coming over the mountains of the north, and the air
be so chilled that it be death to be breathing it in, the clan be calling the last gathering of the unified age. The eldest nine be meeting in the depths of the old mountain home, eyeing the flames of the fire that be keeping their blood from freezing, and they be arguing for seven days. The more they be arguing, the more the ice be building up outside, until every entrance be sealed in by the coldest ice any dwarf ever be feeling. The clan be trapped inside, and the gathering be a failure.” Kablis summoned a mug of mead from a nearby tray and placed it before Agrik. He returned to his seat without a word of interruption. The old dwarf nodded gratefully and took a long draught before continuing his story. “They be finding no means of agreement on how to be saving the clan. The fighting be getting worse, and they be nearly coming to true blows. Soon the clan be breaking into factions. Some men be siding with one elder, and others be siding with others, until the clan be fractured into nine rivaling groups.
“The ice be so thick that no one could be going out hunting, and soon there be too little food for the masses. Great famine be devastating the dwarves, and nearly a third be dying before the ice be starting to thaw. By the time the sunlight be piercing through and granting the dwarves access to the outside world, the one clan be too far severed to be reconciling. The nine elders be leaving the old mountain, and nine clans be forming with them. Before the clans, with their new leaders, could be getting off the slopes of the old home, a Seer be stopping them on the frozen path. She be crying out a prophecy, and her words be echoing off the snowy cliffs.
“Sundered stream of ancient ties, when nine seeds sever strength of one. Fear divided, anger torn, defeated by the ice and stone. If gather ye beyond the gate, beware the breaking of the line. The dwarven fall be imminent, if ye fail to gather each of nine.
“To this day, no dwarf be willing to be risking the fall of the realm. If ye be wanting a gathering, ye need to be gathering the descendants of the nine.”
The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) Page 12