Dan Parkinson - The Swordsheath Scroll

Beyond the compound portal, voices were raised, and a young dwarven soldier poked his head in. "There's a man at the compound gate, Hammerhand," he announced. "He's been wounded, but he approached on his own two feet. He demands to see you."

"What man?" Derkin growled.

"A soldier, Sire. Calls himself Gart."

"Bring him in," Derkin ordered.

The man who came into the room, surrounded by surly dwarves, wore only partial armor and had no weapons. Linen bandages and plasters covered his upper torso. He was pale, and looked severely weakened, but Derkin knew him. He was Tulien Gart.

Without preamble, Gart saluted the dwarven leader and said, "I surrender myself to you, Hammerhand. Do with me as you will, but I ask a boon of you."

"First things first," Derkin said. "Do you know where Sakar Kane has gone?"

"Isn't he here?"

"His clerk says he left right after his return from the betrayal of his pledge… the pledge you brought to me."

"Betrayal," Gart murmured then strengthened his voice. "Yes, it was a betrayal. A thing without honor. Had I known what he intended, I would have resigned my commission rather than be party to it."

"So when you found out, you just disappeared?"

"It might have seemed so. I have been in a house in the town, a place where they dressed the knife wounds in my back… for a price. Wounds delivered by an assassin just this side of Tharkas Pass. The man thought me dead and left me. Then I crawled to where I could find help."

"And who was it who tried to murder you?"

"Another officer," Gart said. 'The captain of His High-ness's household guard."

"Morden?" Derkin asked.

"You know him, then? Is he still alive?"

"We haven't found him yet."

"The boon I ask is the opportunity to settle my score with Morden."

"You don't look like you could settle with anyone right now," Derkin pointed out. "You can hardly stand on your feet."

"I can deal with Morden," Gart assured him. "The man is a coward. It would take a weakness greater than my loss of blood from dagger cuts for him to defeat me."

Derkin turned again to the dwarven search party. "You've looked everywhere?"

"Everywhere a soldier might be."

"But not everywhere a coward might be," Derkin muttered. He turned to Talon Oakbeard and walked across the hall with him while he gave orders in a low voice. While Talon relayed the orders to several others, Derkin returned to the throne and parted its drapings. From beneath the throne he pulled a large stone and dragged it around behind. The wide wings of Sakar Kane's ostentatious chair of state hid the stone from view.

"You can rest here in safety," he told Tulien Gart. "Just stay out of sight."

A half-hour passed before one of the tower doors opened and armed dwarves entered the hall escorting several dozen humans-women, clerks, porters, and servants. At sight of them, Derkin Hammerhand climbed onto Lord Kane's throne and called, "Bring the civilians to me."

The dwarves herded their human charges forward, and Hammerhand's eyes scanned them, then fixed on the clerk he had questioned before. "You people are of no use to me," he said. "You are civilians, and noncombatants.

Therefore, you are free to leave this place. You will be escorted to the outer gate and set free. All I ask of each of you is your pledge that you will leave Klanath and never return, and that you will never take up arms against any dwarf. Do you so pledge?"

The clerk nodded ecstatically. "I most certainly do," he assured the dwarf. "On my father's name. Can I go now?"

"I want the same pledge from each of you," Hammer-hand said to all of them. "Line up and address me, one by one.

Reluctantly, the humans formed a line and stepped toward the throne. A porter at the head of the line knelt when he was near and bowed his head. "I give my pledge," he said.

"Stand up," Hammerhand growled. "I'm no gut-bound human prince."

The porter stood and repeated the pledge. Derkin waved him aside. The next human was a woman, veiled as all the women were. "I so-" she started.

"Remove your veil," Hammerhand interrupted.

"Y-Yes, your… ah… your…" She released her veil and let it fall from her face.

"Don't worry about titles," Derkin said. "Just speak your pledge."

"I so pledge," she said.

Derkin waved her away and raised his voice. "No veils," he said, so all could hear. "I want to see your faces when I hear your promises."

The next human, a male in hostler's livery, was just stepping forward when there was a commotion in the line. A veiled woman near the middle suddenly caught up her skirts and sprinted for the open door to the compound. But Talon Oakbeard had been waiting. With a rush, he caught her around the knees and tackled her neatly, throwing her facedown on the stone floor. Then, with efficient unconcern, he twisted her arms behind her

and sat on her.

"Next," Hammerhand said, as though nothing had happened.

One by one, the remaining humans made their vows and were waved aside. When the last one was done, Hammerhand stood upright on the resplendent throne and planted his fists on his hips.

"You have each given your word to Hammerhand," he announced. "I suggest that all of you be more honorable in such matters than Lord Sakar Kane. Also, as you go through that town out there, tell the people to pack what they can carry and leave. Now, get out."

Escorted by armed dwarves, the humans filed out of the hall toward the outer gate. Only when they were gone, and the door closed, did Hammerhand signal to Talon Oakbeard, who got off the back of the sprawled, kicking woman and backed away. "Stand up," he said. "And quit grumbling. You aren't hurt."

When the human was upright, several dwarves led her to the foot of the dais and pulled away her veil. "Well, well," Hammerhand said quietly. "Not a woman at all. I understand your name is Morden."

The dark, stitched scar across the man's face seemed even darker as the color blanched from his cheeks. "Let me leave," he gasped. "Let me just… go with those other people. I won't bother you, I promise. You'll never see me again."

Hammerhand ignored the plea. "You commanded the catapults in Tharkas Pass," he said. "You sent the stones that killed my people."

"Please!" Morden dropped to his knees. "Please, I was only following my prince's orders. He told me to loft the stones. He told me to!"

"I brought one of your stones back to Klanath," Hammerhand said. "I brought it for you, to drop on you from a high place."

"Please!" Morden sobbed. "Please, I…"

"But before I do that, I want an answer from you. Where is Sakar Kane? Where did he go?"

"H-His Highness only told me that he was summoned by Dreyus. He was to…" Morden's voice trailed away, his mouth hanging open, his eyes bulging as he stared past the dwarf.

"I told you he was a coward," Tulien Gart said, standing beside the throne.

"You're dead!" Morden shrieked. Abruptly he rose to his feet, whirled, and grabbed a javelin from the hand of a nearby dwarf. With a shrill cry, he raised the weapon, aiming it toward the dais… then faltered and seemed to dance as a dozen dwarven blades slashed into him from every side. More blades hit him as he fell to the floor.

Gazing at the butchered assassin, Tulien Gart said, "I wonder whether he meant that for you or for me."

"It doesn't matter now," Hammerhand growled. "I just wish you'd stayed out of sight until he answered my question."

"I'm sorry," the soldier said. "As to Lord Kane, though, if he was summoned by Dreyus, then he probably has gone to Daltigoth. Dreyus speaks for the emperor." With curious eyes, he studied the fierce dwarf still standing on the throne. "Did you really bring back a catapult stone to drop on him?"

"You've been sitting on it," Hammerhand said.