Markus Heitz - The Revenge of the Dwarves

“I’m a thirdling, too…”

Bylanta remained as resolute as toughened gold. “You are a hero, Tungdil. Nobody doubts you. You have done great deeds. And Glaimbar makes no secret of his admiration of Ginsgar, so I can’t rely on him.” She smiled. “That leaves Xamtys and myself. Two dwarf queens against unreason a hundred times stronger than we are. We could use a hero at our side.” She pressed his hand and laid her other hand on his arm. “So come back quickly, Tungdil.”

He bowed to her and mounted his pony to catch up with the head of the march. Tungdil wished he had been spared her softly spoken words; they had touched him more than he wanted. They went on working where Bramdal’s from the evening before had left off. Bylanta had appealed to his sense of responsibility, calling on him to accept the duties in Girdlegard that could be expected of a dwarf of his heroic stature.

“Damn,” he cursed out loud and dug his heels so fiercely into his pony’s sides that the animal gave a startled leap, galloping off as if a pack of wolves were at their heels. The heavy scent of the ubariu and their steeds had already spooked it.

“Someone’s in a hurry to see new lands,” Rodario commented as Tungdil rushed up to join his friends. He wrapped the cape Ortger had given him tighter round himself. “My goodness, it was cold enough in Urgon’s mountains, but here it feels like winter.”

Flagur sat up tall in the saddle and gave the trumpeter a sign. The bugle call echoed back from the mountainside and the army set off at once, with the stamp of nailed boots, the sounds of the horses, the bumping and jangling of the baggage train.

“They may fight monsters, but…” said Ireheart, turning back to look at the long column, “but they’re enough to put the wind up anyone.” When he caught Tungdil’s and Sirka’s disapproving looks he quickly added, “But I know they’re all right, of course.”

Goda rolled her eyes. She insisted on riding behind him and to one side, out of respect, as in her view he was still her weapons master, whatever love she bore him and whatever they now shared. She said, “You are hopeless.”

“That’s right, you lot. Have a go at me. I might as well be a snout-faced orc.” He rode off, grumbling. “I do try. Vraccas and Ubar are my witnesses.”

Rodario laughed. “Progress indeed. He actually got the name of the foreigners’ god right!”

“But it took second place to Vraccas, of course. That’ll never change.”

“I’m off to check on my troops. See you later!” Sirka rode back to join the undergroundling ranks.

Tungdil followed her with his eyes then looked ahead. The tension was mounting. Soon he would be seeing things no dwarf had seen before.

Every twist in the mountain roads made him hope for some revelation but it was several orbits before they had left the tortuous chasms behind.

By now he was riding out to reconnoiter with the ubariu scouts, so keen was he to catch a first glance of Sirka’s land.

He was so obsessed by the need to explore that he forgot everything else. He only wanted to get out of Girdlegard, away from a responsibility he now totally rejected.

T hey traveled through the maze of rocks and somber gorges, along giddying precipices, with dank fog swirling round them so that each step was a deadly risk.

The route for their return would have to be located anew, because the mountains refused to accept any guiding marks they tried to set, whether a painted or a chiseled sign. Some of the scouts claimed the rock walls even moved.

Tungdil caught himself wondering about turning back, but without a real reason. It was not that he was afraid. But there was something round him and the scouts that made him nervous. Impatience was getting the better of him. It demanded that he either arrive in Letefora immediately or else that they return to Girdlegard. If he turned round he could clearly see the path inviting him. Turning forward again, there was only fog and vague outlines of cloud and rocks. He must pull himself together.

From time to time the scouts pointed out dark side paths from where perhaps the monsters might have emerged to march off to the pass and toward Silverfast. Probably one of these paths led to the Black Abyss.

Tungdil sensed that he would have got hopelessly lost without their guidance. So it was with enormous relief that after fifteen orbits he noticed the landscape gradually changing.

The mountains became hills and grew broader and greener while bare rock was replaced by verdant slopes studded with windswept trees. A final twist in their road revealed a new world.

They were standing on a plateau, maybe two miles high, and the view took Tungdil’s breath away.

A broad plain spread at their feet and in the center lay a city of gigantic size. He had never seen so many buildings in one place. It was far bigger than any of the human cities in Girdlegard and was threaded through with wide straight streets bustling with activity; concentric rings of thick walls provided defensive ramparts. The highest buildings were in the middle; round, oval, or rectangular. The tallest must have been at least three hundred paces high. You could see the birds circling overhead and diving in great flocks down into the artificial canyons.

“How is that possible?” Tungdil was amazed. “Who lives there? Giants?”

A scout pointed out particular areas in the cityscape. “That is Letefora directly in front of us. There are some humans there, a few of my own kin, but mostly ubariu and a handful of acronta. All in all I’d say there were about two hundred thousand.” His hand was raised toward the west where, close to the horizon, they could see another city. “That one is the largest city this side of the ocean. It’s called Hophoca and it offers shelter to ten times a hundred thousand.” He turned to the east. “Over there is the region of the monsters. They’ve taken over the ruins of old settlements where humans used to live; they were abandoned when Letefora was built. The monsters defend the area stubbornly. We let them live there because the acronta enjoy hunting them.”

Tungdil surveyed the harvested fields, roads and streets running between the cities. There did not appear to be any villages to speak of, but a few extensive farmsteads here and there. Small forest areas ensured a green panorama.

“Where is the acronta army?” asked one of the guides.

“I don’t know. Perhaps they’re taking the mountain route and looking out for more monsters.”

In the far distance Tungdil could make out a silvery shimmer. That must be the sea. Sirka had told him about it: an endless expanse of water with storm winds and waves high enough to make ships and whole islands disappear without trace.

“Our first destination is Letefora,” said the ubari. “From there the road leads straight through monster territory toward the Black Abyss.”

“Why not use the paths you showed me back there? If we march up with all these troops the monsters might be alerted to the fact the artifact is not working.”

The ubari shook his head and patted the neck of his mount. “The paths are dangerous. You can easily get lost-worse than the roads we took-and then you won’t ever find the way out. The ubariu once lost a complete army. So did we. The ones who survived somehow were lucky enough to find their way back with tales of rocks that came alive, evil vapors and the most ghastly creatures that lay in wait for them. That’s why we took the other route. Nobody but the acronta dare go that way.” He grinned. “The monsters whose land we’ll go through are much too cowardly to stand up to us. Nobody challenges an army of one hundred thousand.” He dismounted. “We’ll wait here.” He sent two of his men back to inform Flagur and to guide them through the labyrinth.