Markus Heitz - The Fate of the Dwarves

Tungdil laughed. “Off to bed.”

Girdlegard,

Former Queendom of Weyurn,

Lakepride,

Late Winter, 6491st/6492nd Solar Cycles

By the large round window in her mother’s study Coira sat staring out at the lake. The white mourning veil on her hair and the black of her high-necked dress made her look older, Rodario thought.

He was sitting next to her, fidgeting with a quill pen. Mallenia was pacing up and down with her hands clasped behind her back. The carpet muffled the sound of her steps but the regular click-clack of her boot heels could still be heard.

The actor laid the feather quill aside and attempted to look the young maga in the eyes, but noted her fresh tears. He had a thin bandage round his neck, chiefly for decoration and as a souvenir of the wound Sisaroth had inflicted on him. The blade had slipped on the antique pendant he wore and this had taken the force of the blow. “Princess, it was not your fault. The alfar set a trap for you,” said Rodario gently. “If you had been a swordswoman something similar could have happened with your weapon. The alfar know how to deceive and trick. You could not have prevented it.”

“That,” she said, with a sob in her voice, “is your fifth attempt to convince me that my mother did not die as a result of my incompetence. But again you fail to get me to change my opinion of events.” She stared at her hands. “These are what I killed her with. These hands and the wretched magic she taught me herself.”

“You were trying to kill the alf…” he began, but she whirled round.

“But who is it lying in the crypt next to my father? The alf?” she cried in despair. “I must never use magic again.”

“But you saved Mallenia’s life with your magic spell,” he protested, trying a different tack. “And who will protect your subjects against the Dragon if he turns up here? Don’t abandon your skills, Princess!”

“Yes, I must,” she whispered, her anger fading now. She looked out at the lake again. “To be doubly sure, I should destroy the source. Before Lot-Ionan or the alfar can use it.”

“You want to demolish the shaft?” Mallenia had stopped pacing and her eyes were flashing. “I know you are grieving. I, too, have lost many relatives but I’m not using that as an excuse to crawl away and hide and bewail my fate.”

Coira did not even look at her. “Go back to Idoslane, Mallenia,” she advised her in a flat voice. “It was when you arrived here that everything started to go wrong in Lakepride. If only I had not listened to this third-rate actor, the alfar would have caught and killed you. Then everything would have been different.”

“It’s a waste of time going over it again and again,” Rodario said, throwing Mallenia a warning glance to discourage her from making a sharp retort. “You are Weyurn’s new queen…”

“It’s Lohasbrand who is the ruler, in case you had forgotten,” she interrupted coldly. “All I am is an incompetent maga sitting on a rock in the middle of a shrinking lake, having extinguished the life of my own mother.”

Rodario sighed. “It was the alf who decapitated her.”

“But it was me who injured her so badly that she could not defend herself. Can’t you understand?”

“Where did the alfar go? Is there any trace?” Mallenia asked. “I’ve missed a lot. It’s taken me a long time to recover.”

“Sisaroth has left the island. At least he won’t be coming back to try to kill us. And where his sister is, only the waters know.” Rodario sounded impatient. He was keen to be raising Coira’s spirits, not making reports for Mallenia. Coira was Girdlegard’s last maga and must not be permitted to cast her powers aside in this way. But she was so grief-ridden that no one could expect her to listen to reason. Since the death of her mother she had not bathed in the magic source and her inner reservoir must be practically exhausted by now after the combat with the alfar and the effort of saving Mallenia.

He dared to come closer to her. “Princess, how do you think I feel?”

“Did you bring about your mother’s death through your own stupidity?”

“No…”

“Then you have no idea what I’m going through,” she said, her voice wavering. “I can hear her screams when it’s quiet. And when I look in the mirror I can see her face on fire. If someone lays a fire and I smell the smoke it makes me vomit.” She closed her eyes and held her hands in front of her face. “The alf should have killed me in her place,” Coira sobbed.

Rodario cared not a fig for the difference in status between them. He took her in his arms and pulled her to him, pressing her head against his chest. She threw her arms around him and sobbed her heart out.

Mallenia sat near the door and said nothing. She knew the value of such comfort-but to her surprise she suddenly felt jealous.

For some reason she had become besotted by this weakling of an actor. Probably because he was so gloriously un-macho and so different from every man she had ever known. The kiss he had stolen from her had only confirmed what her soul had long known.

She watched Rodario rocking the princess in his arms. I can’t ever tell him. Everyone would laugh at us , she thought unhappily. Look, here comes the warrior maiden with her lapdog rhymester. Anyone her swords cannot conquer he bores to death with the power of his tongue . Despite her unhappiness the very thought made her grin.

She tried to distract herself by thinking about the alfar twins. Mallenia had the corpse of the alfar woman in her mind’s eye. They had found it floating in the lake, but before they could reach it, it had sunk. She had clearly seen that Firusha’s breast and belly had been split open. She had initially survived the extremely serious injuries the maga had inflicted on her, and had died from the impact when she fell.

Probably Sisaroth had gone off to search for his sister, or for her body. Perhaps there was a special alfar ritual he was following; this delay could give them a much-needed respite from attack. And no one knew how the Dragon was going to react. He had not yet sent an answer.

There came a knock at the door: Loytan entered without waiting, and was already in the room before freezing at the sight of Rodario and the princess locked in an embrace. “How dare you, you jumped-up little actor?” he exclaimed, his voice husky with indignation. “Get your hands off the queen this instant! Come outside if you are man enough and I’ll show you how to behave.”

Mallenia coughed to announce her presence. “You’ve chosen the wrong moment for insisting on social niceties, Count Loytan,” she told him. “Calm down.” She saw the letter in his hand. “Is that Lohasbrand’s reply?”

“And what is that to you?”

She frowned impatiently. “When you have collected yourself and can think, you may remember that I am from the high-born race of the Ido, count ,” she retorted boldly. “I am entitled to be addressed as the Regent of Idoslane. If you are as keen on etiquette and the proprieties as you would have us believe, then you will greet me with a sweeping bow every time you come into my presence, and you will call me Your Highness .” She saw him grow red. “Is that the way you want it, count ?”

He was stony-faced with anger. “I have not opened the letter,” he responded. “And yes, it is from Lohasbrand.” He went over to put the missive on the desk.

Coira freed herself from Rodario’s arms and wiped the tears from her face. “Thank you,” she said and opened the envelope. Her eyes quickly scanned the lines and a fragment of dragon scale fell out onto the wooden desk. This was proof that the letter contained authentic instructions from Lohasbrand.