Dan Parkinson - The Covenant of The Forge

“Dwarven maps are like dwarven minds,” Demoth purred. “They claim everything and clarify nothing. Realms are not bound by lines on maps, dwarf. Realms extend to the reach of those who control them and no farther.”

“Dwarves control the lands from the south plains to Tharkas Pass,” Cale explained. “At least, that’s how it is supposed to be.”

“Dwarves are — ” Demoth started, then subsided as Eloeth raised an elegant hand. Cale turned to scowl at Mica Rockreave and put a finger to his lips. The last thing the young Neidar wanted to do, on a scouting mission, was to start a war with the elves.

“Demoth is right,” Eloeth said softly. “Not in a hundred years or more has their been a dwarven patrol exercising presence this far north. You are eighty miles beyond the natural limit of Kal-Thax where people live and use the land. This is all wilderness out here, and just beyond that pass lies the enchanted forest we call home.”

“And beyond that?”

“Beyond?” She shrugged. “All sorts of places. Human realms, mostly. Western Ergoth is nearest and largest. Why?”

“Just curious,” Cale assured her. “But I would still like to see that pass. Do you object?”

“I suppose we can show it to you,” Eloeth said, standing. “It won’t hurt for you to see it.”

“Thank you,” Cale Greeneye bowed slightly in his tall saddle, then turned another frown on Mica Rockreave and those around him. “Just be still and let me handle this!” he whispered.

“But these elves are …”

“These elves are going to show us Tharkas Pass. Come on. Let’s go.”

Cale was astonished at how quickly they covered the miles up to the great pass. Following the hidden ways and traveled trails of the elves, most of which he would never have known were there except for the sight of throngs of silent-footed elves trotting along ahead of him, they seemed to bypass all of the rough places and travel only the best paths. The sun of Krynn was still in the sky when the party climbed the last rise and entered a huge, magnificently walled cleft in the mountain ridge. For a mile they traveled between wide-set stone steeps which climbed into the high mists, then the path angled downward slightly and — abruptly — the walls opened out.

The view was breathtaking. The path curved downward, following natural slopes — downward and away to lose itself in distance. And beyond, spreading to the limits of vision, was a tremendous, forested plateau, a solid carpet of new-greening trees that rolled away toward the horizon. From the mouth of the pass the forests of the elves seemed to begin several thousand feet away and to go on from there forever.

“Beautiful,” Cale breathed, climbing down from Piquin’s high back to stand beside Eloeth. “That’s where you live, huh?”

“That is the place we call home.” She nodded. “From where the forest begins, as far as you can see.”

“From where the forest begins?” Cale pointed. “Down there?”

“That’s right.”

Cale smiled delightedly, then turned, facing his own companions, and raised sturdy arms. “On behalf of the Council of Thanes and the people of Kal-Thax,” he roared, “I hereby claim all the lands we have traveled, to and including this place where we stand, as part of Kal-Thax. Kal-Thax extends to this point!” He unslung his hammer, drew an iron spike from his belt and knelt. With one resounding blow he drove the spike into the stone of Tharkas Pass.

Demoth was beside him then, spinning to face him, his bow raised threateningly. “Stop that!” the elf demanded. “What are you doing?”

Cale stood and gazed at the elf levelly. “I have done what you yourself suggested. I have just clarified what dwarven maps — and dwarven minds — claim. Everything behind us is Kal-Thax, by right of my claim and my stake.”

Demoth stared, still holding his bow tensed. “You can’t do that,” he said.

“I just did,” the Neidar pointed out. “And if you have any doubt of the reach of those who claim the realm, then please notice that we have reached here with your blessing. And if you raise that bow, elf, I swear I will feed you my hammer a pound at a time.”

“Demoth!” Eloeth was there, pushing down the male elf’s hands and his bow. “Let it alone! It’s only a claim, and means nothing unless it is ratified and enforced.” She turned to Cale. “Clever,” she said. “You obtained my warrant that this place is beyond our homeland, so you have taken nothing that we have a right to defend. You are full of surprises, Cale Greeneye of the Hylar.”

“Of Thorbardin and Kal-Thax,” he corrected, “though I — and my friends — are more Neidar than Holgar.”

“What?”

“It is a manner of speech. It means we prefer the outsides of slopes to the insides of them. But I have one more surprise for you, if you will permit. On that pack horse are two kegs of good ale, and we have the haunches of a mountain bison. If you and your company will share a fire with us this night, I’d like to hear how the wars go in the east.”

“But what of this claim business?”

“Oh, that’s all done. I’ve made the claim on legitimate grounds. I suppose it’s up to my leaders, and yours, to get together sometime and decide what to do about it.” He turned again, gazing off across the distant forest. “Western Ergoth lies beyond, you say? Where?”

She pointed northward. “There, and westward beyond the forest.”

“The new road might have to be longer than we anticipated,” Cale said. “But it could serve elven purposes, too, you know.”

Willen Ironmaul felt a touch of elation as he and his personal escort — named the Ten in honor of those who had served Colin Stonetooth — emerged from the first warren into the great cavern of Thorbardin. His mission to the lands of eastern Ergoth had been a success. He knew Tera would be pleased. His immediate desire was to go straight to the new Hylar delvings and see her, but a reception committee was waiting for him at the cable-way.

“The drums told us you had returned.” Olim Goldbuckle grinned. “Business first, Sir Chieftain. How went your visit to the human lands?”

“Very well, I believe,” Willen said. “Not only will they build a roadway to the mountains, following Cale’s route, but the knights have agreed to patrol it at their end to stop the migrations toward Cloudseeker. Lord Charon gave me his oath and his hand on it.”

“Marvelous!” The Daewar slapped the big dwarf on his armored back and started him along the shoreline path to Daebardin. “I have called for the Council to assemble,” he said. “Now, how about trade? Did you discuss trade with the Ergothians?”

“They will trade grain, dyes, and fibers for tools and glass.” Willen nodded. “I agreed to no more than that, but if it goes well we can expand upon the commodities. Oh, and Lord Charon is prepared to discuss more extensive trade with the Overlords in Xak Tsaroth. He feels it will give his people a nice edge there, if their clerks can act as agents for things like woolen goods, embossed plating, leathers, and ironware. Oh, and gemcraft. His exact words were, Those pestilent city-dwellers love anything that sparkles, and if they can’t steal it, then they’ll buy it.’”

“Did you discuss weapons?”

“They know we can make better weapons than they can, but I didn’t discuss trading in weapons. I felt that should be a Council decision.”

The Daewar prince glanced at Willen shrewdly. “A wise notion,” he said. “We should go slowly in providing humans with fine weapons. But that may come later. The more secure we become in Kal-Thax, with Thorbardin as our fortress, the less we shall need to worry about our goods being turned against us.”