Markus Heitz - The Revenge of the Dwarves

“What did you think it would sound like?”

“A heart that’s going to beat for many hundred cycles should sound different. But it doesn’t. It’s not even any slower.”

He sat up and pushed her gently to the ground, then placed his ear on her breast. The scent that rose in his nostrils was arousing, and he felt the warmth of her brown skin on his cheek.

“And what can you hear?”

“Same as with all dwarves,” he said and kissed her throat. A sudden stabbing pain shot through his eye socket and he fell back. Any trace of desire abruptly disappeared. “Damn those atar,” he cursed, clutching at the side of his face, but it only made it worse. “I feel like wishing Ginsgar success with his campaign.”

“It’s the best thing for broka,” nodded Sirka earnestly. “Nobody is going to shed a tear for them. And there’s more harmony among the peoples of Letefora than ever now. No one there thinks they’re above the rest. Just friends or enemies. But no more false friends.” She stood up and went to check on their catch. “Come on, Tungdil. Let’s take the befuns their feed before they start on Rodario.”

They dragged the first load of fish over to their campsite in sacks, leaving the net in place in the stream to catch more. Later, when the befuns were fully fed, the two of them slipped under a blanket by the fire and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

“Ah, love’s young dream,” said Rodario with a yawn. “I wonder what my own darling is up to?”

Flagur looked at him. “You’ve got a girl?”

“Yes.”

“And how many children do you have with her?”

“With her? None, as far as I know.” He gave a dirty grin. “But there may be a few boys and girls in Girdlegard that will do well on the stage.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I am a friend to all women and women all love me. I am incredibly irresistible.”

“And what does your girl have to say about that?”

“Have fun, she says; she’s just the same as me,” he laughed.

“Well, we seem to have more in common with humans than with dwarves,” chuckled the ubariu.

“Don’t jump to the wrong conclusion, my dear Flagur. Most people in Girdlegard are very keen on convention and like to live as married couples.” Rodario smiled. “I make sure that the young wives don’t find life too tedious, and I help prepare the daughters for love.” He took a fish and grilled it over the fire on the end of a stick. “It’s a shame there won’t be much of an opportunity to learn more about your homeland. It would be illuminating to hear a couple of stories.” He blinked. “But I’m far too sleepy to take notes.”

“Why don’t you come along with the diamond’s escort? Then you can see my country,” suggested Flagur.

“Do your people like theater? My repertoire of tales of heroes and their great deeds is enormous. I have the best range of props…” His voice tailed away. “No, I used to have the best props possible. Magister Furgas made them all for me.” He stared into the fire. “My friend is dead. I can’t believe it. Can you? I spend five cycles searching for him; I free him from the clutches of his captors and then he melts away to nothing in a sea of red-hot iron. Killed by the treachery of thirdlings.”

Flagur had been listening intently. “But not forgotten.”

“No, I haven’t forgotten him and I never will.” He pulled the cooked fish off the bones and ate thoughtfully. Occasionally he looked over at Lot-Ionan, who was sitting on the grass some distance away from the fire talking to the ubariu rune master. “I wonder what they’re discussing?”

“I expect they’re talking about the different ways they each use magic.” Flagur retrieved his fish from the fire, strewed some powder on it from a little bag, and started to eat his supper with evident relish.

“Can I try some?” asked Rodario, indicating the yellow spice.

“Of course.”

The actor drizzled a little cautiously onto his fish, sniffed, and tasted it carefully. His expression moved from skeptical to delighted. “I think I should market this stuff,” he enthused. “This mixture is… unique! I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“I’m glad you like it. We used to wage war for it in the old days.”

“Entirely reasonable,” said Rodario. “And what agreement was reached?”

“We eradicated the other side.” Flagur handed him the little bag. “It’s made from a particular stone, milled and ground, rinsed three times in salt water and then rubbed to a fine powder.”

“You killed off a whole people for the spice?” He could not believe it.

“They were only phottor. They have no brains. Not worth worrying about,” the ubari reassured him. “But they were sitting on the biggest natural source of the spice, so we killed two birds with one stone: We had the meat and the spice.”

Rodario lowered his fish. “You don’t mean to say you ate the orcs?”

“Of course. They taste delicious, but the ones you had in Girdlegard were even better. I tried one who got lost and came over to our realm. It was the best ever taste.” He closed his eyes. “Mmm; it’s coming back to me now.”

Suddenly the conversation was taking a frightening turn. There were not many occasions when orcs had managed to get out of Girdlegard through to the Outer Lands. “When was that? Where did you come across him?” Rodario enquired.

“It was ages ago. On the other side of the mountain you call the Gray Range. He was trying to persuade us to take arms against the ubariu… I mean, you dwarves.” He laughed. “He was a stubborn fellow. He kept going on about immortality-something he’d drunk out of a little bottle.”

Rodario put two and two together. It must have been one of the creatures subject to Ushnotz, the orc lord; part of a unit that had got cut off from the others and got through to the empty realm of the fifthlings at the stone gateway. In the early days it had not been guarded.

By Palandiell! The black water, he thought. Worried now, he watched Flagur and measured him up. Ushnotz’s warriors had partaken of the black water and were immortal. What would happen if you ate the orc flesh? If the flesh was evil, would it pull you that way too? Was Flagur only pretending to be a friend? Perhaps he really wanted the diamond for his own rune master. Was he perhaps planning to take over Girdlegard with his hundred-thousand-strong army as soon as he had the stone?

The ubari watched him. “What’s is the matter, Rodario? Why’ve you gone quiet?”

“I’m… tired.” He avoided the question. “I’m sorry if I’m not good company. It always happens when… I eat fish.” Quickly he wolfed down his meal and said goodnight. As if purely by chance he lay down next to Tungdil and tried to wake him gently.

“What is it, Fabuloso?” the dwarf asked, drunk with sleep.

“You’ll never believe this but-”

“Then don’t tell me,” he interrupted, turning over. “I’m in pain.”

“Our friend and ally has a secret. He’s eaten an orc that had drunk from the black water,” he whispered emphatically.

Now Tungdil was fully awake. “What are you talking about? Why would he do that?”

“Because they taste good. Apparently.” Rodario shuddered.

Tungdil digested the news and considered the possibilities. “Even if it were true, Ushnotz and his orc folk are long dead.”

“But before that Flagur ate one of them. He was from the Gray Range, he said.” The actor was insistent and agitated.

Tungdil could just about work out what might have happened. Back then he and Ireheart had attacked a few orc scouts at the Stone Gateway and pursued three of them into the Outer Lands. One of these had escaped and must have run straight into Flagur’s arms. “They eat orcs?”