Markus Heitz - The Fate of the Dwarves

Ireheart laughed outright. “Yet another of them!”

“I know, they were a real hit with the souvenir shops,” said Balyndar, reaching into the vitrine to retrieve the booklet. “This says how it was found.”

“Let me guess,” called Ireheart, enthusiastic as a young child with a riddle. “Hmm, let’s see… it was found this time on the top of the Dragon’s Tongue? Or in the caves of Toboribor? No, wait… In the lost vaults of Lot-Ionan?”

“No, none of those.” Balyndar cleared his throat and began to read:

Esteemed customers, collectors and experts,

The ax you hold in your hands is made from the purest, most durable of steel; the claws at the end are of stone, the handle is made of sigurdacia wood, the inlays and runes are from all the rare metals to be found in the mountains; the blade, however, is edged in diamonds.

The weapon was forged in the hottest furnace possible. The name of the item is Keenfire.

Forget everything you have heard from the charlatans.

This one is the only true Keenfire. It was found on the dried-up floor of Weyurn’s lakes and was smuggled out of the land under the greatest of perils for the finder.

The location was near the hole from which Lohasbrand emerged. I am not able to say how this occurred.

A fisherman’s son brought the ax to me, saying his cousin had found it. He had shown it to a dwarf, who recognized its true value and killed the man. However, while fleeing, the dwarf needed to cross a river and drowned, when justice and the curse of Elria triumphed.

The fisherman wanted nothing to do with the ax because he feared the dwarves would attack him for it, so he sent his son to me with it. I made him a very good offer and so was able to take possession of Keenfire.

I know it is the legendary ax with which Tungdil Goldhand performed so many valiant deeds for Girdlegard. I was intending to keep it safely against his return, but without him it has no power, so I’ve decided to part with it. For gold.

Should the hero ever return, give him this ax. I am certain he will amply reward you.

Sincerely,

Esuo Wopkat

Ireheart whistled. “That’s the best story so far. At least the facts seem to match up nicely.”

“How do you mean?”

“It sounds genuine. If I remember rightly, the last Unslayable ran off with Keenfire and threw it away en route when we were pursuing him.” Ireheart beamed. “He will have thought a lake would be the last place a dwarf would want to search for it. So he tossed it into the water before he went down the shaft.”

“You don’t really believe it, do you?” Balyndar shut the little book and chucked it back into the broken cabinet. “And anyway, the thing’s been stolen. It could be anywhere by now.”

“Hey there!” said Slin, at the entrance, holding up a dusty ax. “Look what I found outside in the dirt. It was smack in front of my boots.”

Ireheart and Balyndar looked at each other.

The fourthling blew the encrusted sand off. “I don’t know what kind it is, but I’ll have a better idea when I’ve given it a bit of a wash.” He inspected the blade. “Are those diamonds? Who do…?” He noticed the other two were staring at him, then he fell silent, swallowing hard. “By Vraccas!” he croaked in awe, kneeling down and placing the ax reverently on the ground in front of him.

“By Vraccas,” said Balyndar and Ireheart simultaneously, coming over to the doorway and crouching down to look at the weapon.

Ireheart took his drinking flask from his belt and poured some water onto the ax head to reveal some of the fine detail. “I…” His voice died away.

“Charming!” Slin heard a chinking sound behind the two dwarves and raised his crossbow. He saw a dagger slip forward in the cabinet, fall off the shelf and drop on to the counter. He was just drawing breath again in relief when he noticed a sword releasing itself from its fastenings and sailing down to the counter as well. “Something weird is happening here,” he told his companions, who were intent on examining the runes and inlays. “We must warn the others.”

“Just shoot the silly mouse if you’re scared of it,” Balyndar said briskly, misinterpreting the sounds.

“Yes, before Franek’s spell makes it grow the size of an ox,” added Ireheart, completing the thought as he ran his fingers carefully along the ax blade. “Well, I’ll be damned!”

Slin had leaped up, not wanting to believe his eyes: Shields, lances, daggers, swords and other weapons were zooming together from all corners of the room to make a monster with human form. A deadly creation, born from magic.

“Absolutely charming! I fear the maga wasn’t using the right spell when she checked this place out for safety,” he said, speaking very fast.

“Oh, so it is a giant mouse?” the fifthling mocked.

“Turn round and look, you idiots!” snapped Slin, aiming his bow at the creature-well aware this would not help. Franek had told them that only magic itself could overcome one of these creatures.

“Mind yourself, gem-cutter. You can’t talk to me like that just because we let you travel with us. It doesn’t mean I like you. And I won’t be spoken to like that.”

Ireheart was about to tear his eyes away from the newfound ax when it picked itself up and whirled past their noses; an unseen power dragged his crow’s beak from his grasp and Balyndar lost his morning star. “What…?”

At last they turned round and saw their enemy. An enemy they now faced unarmed.

The creature had formed a massive hand composed of knives; it was holding Keenfire up and the handle of the crow’s beak pointing down. The being clattered its way over toward the dwarf-trio.

Ireheart realized now where the marks on the flagstones at the jewelers’ market had come from, and he knew also who had stripped the meat off the bones of the corpses they’d found. He grabbed Balyndar by the sleeve, pulled him up and they walked backwards, very slowly.

“Why didn’t you warn us, fourthling?” the fifthling growled.

Slin laughed mirthlessly. “Good joke. You were both immersed in ax-worship.” He pointed with his crossbow at the creature. “It’s over there if you still want it.”

“I certainly do!” Ireheart nodded, frowning and lowering his head between his shoulders aggressively. “I don’t mind the blades. No one is going to threaten me with my own weapon!” He lifted up a wooden strut from a broken cabinet and whacked the enemy with it.

There was a click and the arm made of spears and lances whirred, rotating like a drill, crashing into the wood.

Ireheart was showered with sawdust and found his hands were empty. “Confounded…” He turned in dismay. “Let’s get out of here.” He ran off, with Slin and Balyndar at his heels. They charged down the street side by side.

“Which way?” asked the fifthling, glancing round at the artificial monster, which was just emerging, doubled-up, from the shop doorway. The weapons that had been lying in a heap in front of the shop rushed up to fuse with all the others.

That was not all.

Clicking and scraping, the steel-and-magic creature changed shape, giving itself three extra pairs of legs and thinning down its core so that it turned into a spider, setting off after them.

“We’ve got to lure Keenfire back to Tungdil. He’ll be able to take it for himself,” panted Ireheart as he ran. “I’m incensed that I’m having to run away from my own weapon.”

They rounded the corner into an alleyway too narrow for the spider creature to fit through.

But when they heard the rattling and clattering come closer nobody had to turn and look in order to know the thing pursuing them had transformed itself again. It was chasing them through the streets as if it were herding stampeding guguls.