Paul Thompson - The Qualinesti

Ten thousand footsteps rattled in the quiet mountain valley. It was early morning, just before sunrise, and mist still clung to the low places between the slopes. Five thousand elves, dwarves, and humans were assembling in this remote mountain pass. Many were warriors, resplendent in burnished armor and flowing capes, who had battled in the long years of the Kinslayer Wars, elf against man, man against dwarf, and elf against elf. So protracted had been the time of bloodshed that sons and daughters of warriors had grown up to bear arms alongside their parents.

This was an army of peace, gathered in the Kharolis Mountains. They had come from the kingdom of Thorbardin and the realm of Qualinesti to seal a bargain and to erect a fortress. Pax Tharkas, it was to be called; the name had already been agreed upon. In the elven tongue, it meant “Citadel of Peace.”

From the southern end of the pass came the delegation of dwarves, led by their new king, Glenforth Sparkstriker. It was he who had led the doughty dwarven armies against the humans of Ergoth, checking their advance in the high mountain passes around Thorbardin. The Battle of Raven’s Hook had cost Prince Glenforth an eye, but it had also put an end to the Emperor of Ergoth’s plan to subjugate the dwarves. Now, with his eye patch of beaten gold and his magnificent coal-black beard rippling across his mailed chest, King Glenforth led his people in an even greater endeavor.

Behind the king came the most powerful thanes, those of Glenforth’s own Clan Hylar. Richly dressed in crimson velvet and glittering with all the jewels they could possibly wear, the Hylar each bore a ceremonial hammer on his shoulder. Close behind the Hylar came the Daewar, for this great occasion wearing midnight blue tunics, yellow sashes, and great wide-brimmed hats of brown leather. The Daewar carried gilded rock chisels, as long as each dwarf was tall.

The thanes of the other clans, the Klar and the Neidar, less richly dressed but still proud, followed in the wake of their more powerful cousins. The Klar carried ceremonial trowels, and the Neidar picks.

Where the valley floor began to slope upward, King Glenforth raised a hand. The councilors and thanes halted and waited in respectful silence.

The delegation from Qualinesti approached the dwarves from the north end of the valley. Most of the delegation were formerly of Silvanesti, and had the chiseled features and light coloring of that ancient elven race. But sharp eyes could see the mingled characteristics of the Kagonesti, the elves of the forest, and even the broad features of humans. The new elven kingdom of Qualinesti had existed for just eighty years, and so far had proven the truth of its founder’s dream: that elves and men and dwarves could live together in harmony, peace, and justice.

The founder himself led his nobles and notables to meet the Thorbardin thanes. In middle age now, as elves reckon time, the Speaker of the Sun was by far the most commanding figure in the valley. Age and toil had sent a few streaks of silver through his white-blond hair, but the clear, noble features of the House of Silvanos were unaltered by all the years of strife.

Kith-Kanan, the Speaker of the Sun, the founder of the nation of Qualinesti, stopped his entourage twenty paces or so from the dwarves. Alone, he went forward to meet King Glenforth of Thorbardin.

The elf met the dwarf near a large boulder that rose up in the center of the path. Glenforth extended his thick, powerful arms.

“Royal brother!” he said heartily. “I rejoice to see you!”

“And I you, Thane of Thanes!”

Tall elf and squat dwarf clasped hands about each other’s forearms. “This is a great day for our nations,” Kith-Kanan said, stepping back. “For all of Krynn.”

“There were many times I didn’t think I would live to see this day,” Glenforth said frankly.

“I, too, have wondered if this new kingdom of ours could have been born without the blood and suffering of the war. My late wife used to say that all things are born that way—with blood and pain.” Kith-Kanan nodded slowly, thinking of days gone by. “But we’re here now, that’s the important thing,” he added, smiling.

“Praise the gods,” said the dwarf sincerely.

Kith-Kanan turned back the folds of his emerald green cape to free his left hand. Looking to his waiting entourage, he smiled and lifted his arm, gesturing two figures forward. Glenforth squinted his good eye and saw that the two were children, a golden-haired boy and a brown-haired girl.

“King Glenforth, may I present my son, Prince Ulvian, and my daughter, Princess Verhanna,” Kith-Kanan said, pushing the children forward. Ulvian dragged his feet and hung back from the unfamiliar dwarf. Verhanna, however, approached the king and bowed deeply to him.

“You do me honor,” Glenforth said, a smile flashing amidst his black beard.

“No, sire. I am the honored one,” Verhanna replied, her high voice ringing clear in the mountain air. Her large, dark brown eyes appraised the dwarf frankly, with no sign of fear. “I’ve heard the bards sing of your greatness in battle. Now that I’ve met you, I see the truth of their songs.”

“Memories of battle are a poor comfort when one grows old and tired. I would trade all of mine for a child like you,” he said gallantly. Verhanna flushed at this praise, stammered a thank-you, and withdrew to her father’s side.

“Go on.” Kith-Kanan said to his son. “Make your greetings to King Glenforth.”

Prince Ulvian took a small step forward and bowed with a quick, bobbing motion. “Greetings, Great King,” he said, running his words together in his haste to get them out. “I’m honored to meet you.”

His duty done, Ulvian stepped back and hovered just behind his father.

With a fond pat on Verhanna’s cheek, Kith-Kanan sent his children back to the ranks of nobles. Turning once more to the dwarf, he said softly, “Excuse my son. He hasn’t been the same since his mother died. My daughter never really knew her mother; it’s been easier for her.”

Glenforth nodded politely. Practically everyone from Hylo to Silvanost knew the tale of Kith-Kanan and his human wife, Suzine. She had died many years before, in one of the last battles of the Kinslayer War. Her children matured at a much slower rate than human children, but not as slowly as full-blooded elven offspring. In human terms, both were still quite young.

The two monarchs exchanged more polite trivialities before returning to the reason for their meeting this morning. At a sign from Glenforth, an elderly dwarf came forward carrying an object covered by a red velvet cloth. It was obviously very heavy, and he held it firmly in both hands. Glenforth took the parcel, holding it easily. The elderly dwarf bowed to his king and was introduced as Chancellor Gendrin Dunbarth, senior thane of the Hylar clan.

“My lord,” Kith-Kanan said, scrutinizing the chancellor, “I once knew a wise dwarf called Dunbarth of Dunbarth. Are you by chance related to him?”

Gendrin mopped his brow with a coarse-looking handkerchief. “Yes, Highness. Dunbarth of Dunbarth, ambassador to the court of Silvanesti, was my father,” replied the dwarf, puffing from exertion.

Kith-Kanan smiled. “I met him in Silvanost many years ago and remember him with esteem. He was an honorable fellow.”

Glenforth cleared his throat. Kith-Kanan returned his attention to the king. In loud, ringing tones, audible to the assembled thanes and Qualinesti, the dwarf king declared, “Great Speaker, on behalf of all the dwarves of Thorbardin, I present you with this special tool. I know you will wield it justly, for the benefit of your people and mine.”