Markus Heitz - The Revenge of the Dwarves

Esdalan looked at Ginsgar calmly. “I insist on an apology for the cruelties received and for the devastation suffered in Alandur. The grand palaces and temples were laid waste, and this was fitting. But it was not right that settlements were torched and destroyed when the inhabitants had nothing to do with the blinkered obsessions of some of my people. Sincere words of atonement and some redress are essential here.” His gaze wandered over the faces of the assembled dwarves. “With your help we shall reconstruct our elf realm. When that is done, then there shall be forgiveness for the children of the Smith.”

Ginsgar opened his mouth to let out a hearty laugh. “Sure thing, Esdalan. We can build a few houses for thirty-seven elves, no bother. That forgiveness will be winging its way to us.”

If offended by the words and tone, Esdalan chose not to show it. He was too sensible to allow himself to respond in kind. “And how about the words of apology from you, Ginsgar Unforce? You led your troops through our groves, plundering and killing.”

The laughter ceased abruptly. “And your own apology for the poisoning of the dwarves?”

“That was the atar, not the elves.” Esdalan looked past Ginsgar and appealed to Xamtys. “Atar and elves have nothing in common.”

“Hair-splitting,” said Ginsgar with contempt. “If I don’t hear an apology, then you’ll have to wait, too.”

“In that case I don’t want the dwarves’ help in Alandur.” Esdalan nodded to the self-appointed high king. “As soon as you are ready to apologize our two peoples may make a fresh start. But not until then.” The elf leaned back in his seat, making it obvious that he had no more to say. But the door of reconciliation had not been slammed shut.

Lot-Ionan sent a disapproving look Ginsgar’s way. “How can you do this, Ginsgar Unforce?”

“Easily,” he replied curtly. He, too, had no more to add. The gulf between the two peoples had not grown any narrower. The dead heaped in that gulf prevented any peace.

“You will come to your senses,” predicted Lot-Ionan. He addressed the whole assembly. “We have heard that the kordrion has escaped and taken to the hills. It is feared that it will be hiding somewhere between the fifthling and fourthling territories, to lick its wounds. It is vital that the dwarves patrol not only the passes but also the remote mountain regions. As soon as the kordrion is sighted, I must be told.”

“Didn’t Master Rodario say the creature cannot be overpowered?” Isika asked.

“As far as the ubariu and the undergroundlings are concerned, yes.” Lot-Ionan indicated his wand. “I am looking into acquiring new famuli and famulae to train. We shall soon have young people versed in the high art of magic. No one has tried to combat the kordrion with magic. The rune masters of the ubariu used their powers differently from my own ways.” He smiled reassuringly. “You see, Queen Isika, I am optimistic.”

Queen Wey started to speak. “Then let me add something here, venerable magus, to make you more confident still, even if it has been with great concern that I and my subjects have observed it.” She went to the map of Girdlegard and indicated her own realm. “The water level in the lake is sinking all the time. It’s as if someone had pulled the plug out of a bath tub.”

Rodario and Lot-Ionan exchanged swift glances.

“How much has been lost?” the actor asked. He was aware of a possible reason. The force and weight of water gushing in had foiled the magister’s attempt to complete the tunnel. Somewhere in the western part of the Outer Lands a mighty river must be bringing potential devastation.

“My citizens who live on solid islands report the level has fallen by as much as ten paces. Ports and harbors are having to be resited. In some places the lake waters have shrunk so much that people have to walk a whole day to collect fresh water for their homes.” Queen Wey surveyed the assembly solemnly. “The lake is running dry. Soon, my subjects will be living not on islands but on mountain peaks soaring a thousand paces up into the sky. It may be good news for you, Lot-Ionan, because access to the magic source will be easier, but my people are distraught. You can’t make farmers out of fishermen.”

“I think I can guess what has caused the water to vanish,” said the magus. He explained his theory. It coincided with Rodario’s ideas. “We could deal with the cause if we collapsed the tunnels. I would prefer to undertake a dive to the bottom of the lake for the magic before I see a water-based country turned to desert laid bare. Weyurn without its lakes is unthinkable. The whole of Girdlegard would suffer: its lakes give rise to our rivers and streams. The consequences would be dire indeed.”

Mallen asked to be allowed to speak. “In the name of the human kingdoms I suggest the dwarves permit our warriors to share guard duties at each of the passes into Girdlegard.” He stood up. “It is only fair that we don’t leave the defense of the whole of Girdlegard up to the dwarves. We too want to make our contribution to our safety and security. It will be our gesture of acknowledgment and thanks for them having stood guard loyally these thousands of cycles, losing thousands of their people in the course of that defense.”

“No,” interrupted Ginsgar. “We’ll have no humans in our mountains. We are carrying out our duties properly on our own. Humans would get in the way. They understand neither our way of life nor our way of thinking and fighting. If there were an attack our soldiers would be hindered by them, not helped.”

“ You have no kingdom under you,” Xamtys corrected him. “You have appointed yourself high king, that’s all.” She inclined her head toward Mallen. “As for the firstlings, let me say that humans are welcome to join their efforts to our own. We have suffered too many losses recently and would be grateful for more soldiers to help fill the gaps in our ranks, until our own new recruits are trained up.”

Bylanta and Balendilin agreed with her, but Glaimbar and Malbalor refused to cooperate. From the looks exchanged between Ginsgar and Xamtys it seemed the dwarven folks were headed for a massive clash of wills about who should have overall power. Never had their enmity been displayed so openly. In the past they had given outsiders the impression of unity or had formed a common front of silence when disputes occurred.

Mallen expressed his thanks. “Let us discuss numbers tomorrow: how many soldiers the firstlings, secondlings and fourthlings will take.”

The council now moved to the topic of what line to take with the ubariu and the mighty empire in the northeast of the Outer Lands. Against Ginsgar’s will-unsurprisingly-it was decided to invite initial contact, if for no other reason than to tackle the kordrion. The monarchs resolved to leave it in the lap of the gods as to how the relationship developed after that.

As it was already late Bruron closed the meeting. The potentates of Girdlegard were to reconvene in the morning. The kings and queens of the human realms left the hall and the dwarves remained behind to continue negotiations.

Immediately Xamtys slammed her fist down on the table and hissed accusingly at Ginsgar, “How can you dare to appear here as high king?”

“The matter is settled,” he snorted, dismissing her with a smile and gesture.

“You think it is settled. You have a handful of followers, Ginsgar, and they swore loyalty to you when they were high on battle victory. Not more than that.”

“Not in my view.” Glaimbar spoke. “Ginsgar did what we should have done. Elves or atar, what’s the difference? When the next eoil turns up, the thirty-seven pointy-ears will go mad and try to found another empire of purity. We’re better off without the elves.” He pushed back his chair and knelt before Ginsgar, proffering his weapon. He bowed his head. “I acknowledge you as my high king, Ginsgar Unforce.”