Markus Heitz - The Revenge of the Dwarves

She gave a faint smile. “Thank you. So you’re not really surprised?”

“No. Balyndis told me what you two had talked about. I never thought you capable of treacherously killing either one of us.” He turned around to go. “I was worried about maintaining secrecy. I was wrong, I can see that now.” He pointed to the injured dwarf. “When he wakes up, Sirka, Rodario, Lot-Ionan and I will all have left. You stay here with him. Mind he stays in bed and tell him I shall be needing him when I go campaigning in the Outer Lands.” He saw the shock in her face, and smiled reassuringly. “Only as an escort and for company on the way. I don’t want to deprive you of him forever. One last journey, that’s all. He more than anyone deserves to be with a loving companion.” He went out quickly.

Goda laid her forehead on Ireheart’s hand, closed her eyes and prayed to Vraccas. She had only ever once before asked her god so fervently for anything: the death of Sanda Flameheart’s killer.

“Tell me, Vraccas, what you want of me in exchange for the life of your hero Boindil?” she whispered unhappily. “I don’t want him to die. Do you hear me, Creator of all Dwarves? Preserve his life and take mine instead.”

“Vraccas had better not,” grunted Ireheart softly. He pressed her hand. “You make sure you stay alive.”

Goda’s eyes shot open and she suppressed a gasp of delight. “Master!” she whispered ecstatically. The next moment she was wondering how long he had been conscious. She blushed and pulled her hand away, but he would not let go.

“So you came to kill me?” he asked; weakness forced him to speak slowly and carefully. Goda sobbed. “No, don’t cry… I understand why. And believe me, there were times when I toyed with the thought of doing away with myself.” He swallowed hard. “Vraccas knows how many nights I’ve lain awake regretting Sanda’s death. I killed a magnificent dwarf. Like I had done once before.” Ireheart forced himself to describe the painful events. There should be no more secrets from her. “Her name was Smeralda; she was a little younger than you. We were very fond of each other but our love ended harshly. I killed her in the heat of battle at the High Gate. I did not know what I was doing.” Tears flowed. “I mistook her for one of the enemy…” He collected himself and paused. When his voice was steady again he sighed, “I thought I would never find love again after that. Until you came. I know we cannot be together, Goda. Killing your kinswoman is too great a barrier.”

Goda stood up and sat on his bed. “I can see the torture in your eyes, master. The pain is not from your wounds but in your soul. There can be no one in the whole of Girdlegard with more genuine regret than this.” She had not let go of his hand. “I did not want to love you even when you stole into my thoughts. Yet, despite all my complaints about the training, I became fonder and fonder of you. I did not want to admit it. I forbade myself to love the dwarf that had killed Sanda. So I hid behind sarcasm and rejection. Until I thought I had lost you.” Her shoulders shook. “When I saw you fall with all those arrows in you I should have rejoiced.” She looked him in the eyes. “But the opposite happened. I wished I was the one lying there so badly injured.”

Ireheart felt his throat constrict.

“Even if my great-grandmother’s soul spins in fury, I can’t help myself,” she said softly. “With all my heart I long to be more to you than just a pupil, Boindil Doubleblade of the secondling clan of Ax Swingers.” Her gaze was as steady and honest as her words. “If I have not pushed you too far away with my unkindness, I want to ask you to let me remain close at your side. I don’t care if we are fighting together in battle or sharing a home.”

“The same goes for me,” he croaked. “It would make me so very happy.” A wave of joy shot through his body, washing all the pain away as he looked up at Goda’s sweet face. The pale down on her cheeks reflected the candlelight’s shimmer, and the warmest affection shone in her brown eyes. He hardly dared to believe what was happening. Perhaps it was just a feverish dream. If that was the case, he did not wish to be cured of the fever.

Goda lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it gently. “Yes, Boindil. But promise me one thing: Let us fight the duel I demanded of you.”

“What do you mean-?”

“Please,” she interrupted him. “I made a vow to Sanda. I cannot break my promise to her. I’ve already broken my word by telling you of my feelings.” Ireheart nodded and she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll let you sleep now.” And she made as if to leave his side.

Ireheart held her hand tightly. “Stay here,” he begged, stroking her cheek.

She sat down again, and held his hand until he fell asleep.

She smiled, while a tear of despair escaped from her eye. She had betrayed her great-grandmother and yet felt enormously blessed. She had never felt such happiness.

S irka was waiting for Tungdil outside the tent. “Do you feel up to another meeting?”

He nodded and she led him to Mallen’s tent, where the blond Idoslane prince was standing in front of a map of Girdlegard. Around the table sat the kings and queens of the human realms; neither dwarves nor elves were present.

Mallen came over and bowed to Tungdil. “I want to show my gratitude and respect,” he said. All the other men and women rose to their feet and followed suit. For Isika, Ortger and Wey it was also by way of an apology for things they had said in the past. Their consciences were not clear.

Tungdil heard the news about the dwarves’ advance under Ginsgar Unforce. It was of no concern to him. “There’s no time to think about Alandur. The important thing is the diamond. We cannot leave it in alfar hands.” He told them what the unslayable had purportedly said. “I am sure he was not lying. He has made a pact with the thirdlings and presumably he knows very well what is waiting on the far side of the tunnel. When I was fighting the thirdlings Bandilor told me they had been negotiating with the monsters on the other side. In the worst possible scenario there may be an army already waiting for the tunnel into Girdlegard to open.” Tungdil pointed to Alandur on the map. “I don’t approve of what Ginsgar Unforce has done. But I can understand why he has done it. He is acting like any dwarf would who sees no difference between elves and atar.”

Mallen looked at him. “I will have Ginsgar told of your disapproval, Tungdil Goldhand. I hope Xamtys will move soon and recall the rebellious warriors. There’s nothing that I can do.”

Bruron’s expression was similarly rueful. “I am in the same situation. My best soldiers are in Toboribor. I won’t be able to stop Ginsgar.”

“It’s regrettable that some of the elves Ginsgar will kill aren’t actually involved in this atar madness. But it can’t be helped.” Tungdil bit his lip. “Don’t get me wrong but you all know what is at stake.”

Flagur entered the pavilion in full armor. “I have heard what is happening.” He did not look happy at all and his light pink eyes reflected his dissatisfaction. “From now on allow us to support you. We shall escort you to the west. Our mounts are better than any of Girdlegard’s horses, so we can get to the island ahead of the alfar. Unless he can fly.”

“No, he can’t do that,” Lot-Ionan confirmed.

“Not yet, anyway,” added Rodario. “As long as he hasn’t accessed the diamond’s power or got to the magic source.”

“Let me have just one night’s rest,” Tungdil requested. “We’ll set off in the morning.”

“How many men should we take?” asked Flagur.

“How many will you need to destroy a creature that did for thirty elves and upwards of a hundred orcs all by itself?” Tungdil would have loved to know exactly what had happened in the caves. And what the diamond had been doing in the hands of that sleeping beauty.