The Revenge of the Dwarves (34 page)

And so it was in the Red Range.

The nine imposing towers and the two mighty ramparts of West Ironhald presented an almost insuperable obstacle even for peaceful visitors. In the area between the defending walls in the chasm that led to the Ironhald gateway and thus to the kingdom of the firstlings, around two hundred people were encamped, waiting for the dwarves to admit them.

For the most part they were traders, but there were also refugees from regions that had been devastated five cycles
beforehand by the so-called avatars and their army. Their homelands were still not habitable.

Queen Xamtys had instructed the guards to let the groups progress forward one section at a time every two orbits. In the whole ten orbits they were waiting, the guards had them under observation and could examine the people, their baggage and wagons and animals, in minute detail, watching out for unusual behavior. Only the ones who conducted themselves well and passed the final interrogation examination at West Ironhald were allowed to enter. They were let into the halls and allowed over the pass.

The guards became increasingly restless. Sometimes there would be the faintest trace of orc in the air, as if maybe a small band of them were in hiding away off in the distance, waiting for the chance to storm the fortress. Maybe one of their spies was inspecting the fortifications.

Amongst the applicants who had got as far as the first gate was a strapping, rough-hewn tradesman who made a great thing of secrecy about his cargo. On his big four-spanned cart he had square blocks, it seemed, that were covered in leather and canvas to shield them from prying eyes and to protect them from the weather.

The wagon jolted its way toward the sentry post, and the man, dressed in light leather from head to foot, halted his oxen. He came over to Bendelbar Ironglow of the clan of the Glowing Irons, superintendent of the guards, and bowed. “My greetings. My name is Kartev and I’ve come all the way from Ajula to speak to your ruler.”

“Why would Queen Xamtys want you to?” responded
Bendelbar, a sturdy dwarf sporting long blond hair, a colorful plaited beard and a military abruptness of manner that combined unfriendliness with surprise. Some self-important merchant. That was all they needed.

Kartev walked back, loosened a few of the ropes securing the tarpaulin, then lifted the cover, behind which cage bars were visible. Then he motioned to the dwarf to come over. “See for yourself.”

Bendelbar approached and took a look. Inside there were three small figures, chained by the ankles and in a miserable state. They were beardless, one and all, and looked, apart from that strange feature, exactly like Girdlegard dwarves. The guard knew at once who it was he had here. The news from the Black Mountains had traveled swiftly: the diamond thieves. “By Vraccas!”

“I call them Ancient Children. I thought your people would be interested. They must be related to you, don’t you think?”

“And why did you take them prisoner?”

“I didn’t capture them, I bought them. I bought them off a judge in Ajula. He had them arrested for robbery,” he explained hastily, so that no one would start to reproach him. “They were very expensive,” he added.

Bendelbar watched the wrinkled naked faces; the sight was new to him. He saw that two of the captives were women, but there wasn’t a single hair on their cheeks. “Let me guess. They were looking for diamonds?”

Kartev looked surprised. “Yes. You’re absolutely right.” His eyes narrowed. “So they’ve already tried it here, too?” He stood up straight. “Pleased to be able to help you. I’ll
hand them over to you. Just need my expenses met.” He dropped the heavy canvas again and the strange dwarflings were back in the dark. “Take me and my captives to your queen, so we can sort out a price.”

Bendelbar wrapped one beard strand round his index finger thoughtfully. He finally agreed. He couldn’t let slip this opportunity to cross-examine the thieves. History would show him no mercy if through his fault a chance to avert disaster were to be missed. He gave the order to open the gate for the man and his laden cart.

Escorted by ten guards they started on their long way, taking several breaks, through the long passageways and halls of the eastern part of the Red Mountains, until the troop finally stopped in a cavern used by the firstlings as a quarry.

“Wait here,” ordered Bendelbar. “I’ll have Xamtys sent for.” He called one of the guards over and gave the instruction. The dwarf-guard trotted off. Bendelbar thought he could sniff orc-ness in the air again, but that was impossible. Not in here. He dismissed it as imagination.

“So, what’s new in Girdlegard?” Kartev was feeling chatty. He undid the buckles to pull the tarpaulins and the leather covers off the cages. “I haven’t been back here for ages. Are the orcs still hanging out in Toboribor?”

Bendelbar got the other soldiers to help. The crates containing these strange dwarves, known in Girdlegard only as undergroundlings, were revealed bit by bit. The trader had two dozen of them. They were huddled together in the middle of their prisons and were staring at their distant relations mistrustfully and in silence.

“In Toboribor? Nothing happening there anymore.” Bendelbar shook his head, unable to take his eyes off the captives. “After the Star of Judgment struck, all the evil went away.”

“That’s not what I hear,” replied Kartev, jumping up to the front of the wagon, where there were five barrels. He opened the left-hand one, took out a few hardened loaves and chucked them into the cages. The undergroundlings grabbed the bread greedily. “There are said to be strange creatures about the place, murdering and pillaging.”

Now Bendelbar did turn his attention to the man. “Rumors spread quickly in the Outer Lands.”

The tradesman smiled at the dwarf. “Don’t forget I’m a merchant. Merchants are quick to panic when their wares might be in danger.” With a powerful leap that Bendelbar wouldn’t have thought him capable of, the trader landed at his feet. “Do these creatures exist or not?”

“They do exist,” he sighed. “But we’re close to catching them.” He placed his hand on the handle of the ax he carried stuck in his belt. “You can set your mind at ease…”

There was a loud crash behind them.

The base of the cage had broken and a dozen of the undergroundlings dropped through onto the stone floor. Initially Bendelbar thought the cart must have given way under the weight, having suffered damage on the long journey, but when he saw the undergroundlings were making off, left and right, unrestrained, he realized they had unchained themselves.

“Stop them,” yelled Kartev, catching the arm of a guard who was about to fell one with a spear-thrust. “Don’t hurt
them! They’re my property, got it? I want them back safe and sound. There’ll be hell to pay if you kill one.”

Bendelbar pushed him to one side. “After them!” he commanded, reaching for his long horn.

Then a whole side fell out on the second cage; loose bolts clattered and rolled away. The dwarf was caught on the head and shoulders by the iron bars of the cage as the remaining dozen undergroundlings made a bid for freedom, rushing the guards. Grabbing the sentries’ weapons and armor they raced to the exits.

Bendelbar could not move. The heavy iron grating kept him pinned to the ground; he couldn’t even move his arms, let alone sound the alarm with a blast on his horn.

“I’ll get help,” said Kartev, taking the dwarf’s ax. “Just in case they attack me on the way,” he explained. “You’ll get it back. Which way do I go?”

“My bugle,” groaned Bendelbar. “Blow the alarm.” But however hard the tradesman tried to sound the horn he couldn’t produce anything more convincing than a damp fart. “They’ll be after our diamond,” grunted the dwarf, nodding to the left-hand passageway. “Run and warn the queen!”

Kartev nodded to him. “Right.” He stood up and ran off, faster than Bendelbar had ever seen a man run before. He could do nothing but wait for help.

It was a long time coming. He heard alarm horns sounding, excited voices, weapons clashing, and now and then the sound of a dwarf in pain and furious. Every fiber in Bendelbar’s being demanded he join the hunt for the intruders, but he was helpless under the iron grating.

At last, steps came near.

Kartev’s coarse face appeared above him. “I’m back,” he said. Many hands helped to move the heavy grid. His shoulder painful and his skull throbbing, Bendelbar slid out from under the metal bars. Someone helped him to his feet. Before him stood the trader and Queen Xamtys. And maybe sixty warriors with blood on their weapons. “What happened?” he asked, bowing to his queen.

“We had to kill most of them, they were so wild,” she said. “They even got as far as the treasure chamber, but I don’t know what the outcome was. Terrible confusion.” Xamtys looked at Kartev. “Two of them fled, but you won’t get them back alive.” She handed him a bag that clinked in the familiar way: gold coins. “Take this as compensation and as my thanks for your attempt to aid us in our fight against the undergroundlings in the treasure chamber.”

The man bowed. “Thank you, noble lady. I am sorry that our commerce should take this form. I would have preferred to hand the captives into your keeping alive.” He pointed to the broken base of the cage. “I would never have thought them capable of breaking it open with a few pieces of iron. And they freed themselves from their chains, too.”

“It is not your fault. My guards should have checked the wagon more thoroughly,” she said, looking at Bendelbar. “From now on I shall expect my gate guards to be three times as watchful.” She spoke the words cuttingly. “Return to your post and let this be a lesson to you. This raid could easily have been successful.” She turned and moved off,
followed by her retinue and surrounded by her bodyguards.

Bendelbar grimaced. He was in pain and was in disgrace with the queen. The last piece of news in particular would not be popular with the chief of his clan. He’d get another dressing-down there, for sure. He looked angrily at Kartev, who was loading the first bits of ruined cage on to his cart. “Leave it.” He gave the order for the rest of the guards to take over.

Not long afterwards Kartev was on his way back to the Outer Lands, accompanied by Bendelbar with what remained of his vehicle. It was a long journey for them both: three sun orbits on the broadest of roads in the dwarf realm, past many wonders, large and small, constructed out of stone, steel and iron. The sight of statues, bridges and murals raised the dwarf’s spirits.

Although the tradesman had received adequate recompense for his trouble, he was not happy about the outcome of his journey. It seemed to Bendelbar the man was mourning the loss of the undergroundlings. At any rate, he wasn’t appreciating the wonders they passed.

Seeing as he did not have the slightest wish to communicate, they were both silent when they went back through the gates of Ironhald. More than a mere “Vraccas keep you” did not cross their lips.

Bendelbar stopped. He ordered the outer gate to be closed and the wall gate to be opened for the trader, then he rushed up to the battlements to follow the progress of the ox-cart with his eyes.

Just as he was wondering why Kartev, after all that long
waiting period at the gates, had not gone into Girdlegard with his gold to buy goods to sell on his way home, the man was doing something even stranger.

When he had left the last ramparts behind him, Kartev stopped to chat to a new arrival who was heading for West Ironhald: he pressed the reins of his oxen into the man’s hand and continued on his way without his cart or belongings.

“Vraccas, what is it with this fellow?” wondered Bendelbar, coming down from his vantage point. He wanted to find out.

He had just commandeered a pony and ordered five mounted guards to accompany him, when a messenger hurried past, storming into the quarters of Gondagar Bitterfist of the clan of the Bitter Fists, the commander of West Ironhald.

“Wait,” said Bendelbar to his companions, guessing that this agitation had something to do with the trader.

It took just about as long as a dwarf needs to draw an ax, take aim and hurl it at an enemy—that’s if you had a second one on you—before the threatening thunderous voice of the stronghold’s main alarm horn sounded. It was powered by huge bellows and activated from inside the commander’s quarters. It sent out its continuous message along the ramparts, up the slopes of the mountain, and all along the ravine.

The door flew open. Gondagar appeared, pulling his helmet on over his black curls, and gesturing at the dwarf next to Bendelbar. “You there, dismount. Let me on,” he ordered, swinging himself up into the saddle. “Let’s go. Stop that
trader!” he yelled, spurring the horse so that it reared up at the pain and galloped off. “In all that confusion he’s replaced the diamond with a false one made of glass.”

Bendelbar ran hot and cold. His guilt was growing by the minute.

The dwarves on their ponies chased along the twists and turns of the ravine, and the gates opened before them in the nick of time.

Every hoofbeat brought them deeper into the Outer Lands. They followed the broad but uneven road; however hard they pushed their mounts they did not catch up with the trader.

Round each corner they expected to see him but were disappointed. There was nowhere he could have hidden. The walls of the chasm either went vertically upwards or there was a precipice down on the other side. The stone was too smooth to give any hand- or foothold.