Markus Heitz - The Revenge of the Dwarves

Tungdil laughed quietly. “You’re right. Vraccas knows why.”

The shock of his salvation gave Tungdil now an extreme clarity of thought he had not known since before the death of his son. He had done everything wrong. For the past four cycles he had done everything wrong.

There was only one way out. He vowed to himself that he would return to Balyndis as soon as he could and beg her forgiveness for everything. The bitter words, the constant drinking, the rejection whenever she had tried to touch him. He could not forgive himself. Deep in thought, he stroked his pony’s soft muzzle.

Ireheart was a few paces ahead. “Coming, Scholar?” he called. “Or is the pony giving you some advice?”

“No,” Tungdil called back. “It’s telling me I’m too fat.”

“You should have asked me. I could have told you that.”

Tungdil took the pony by the reins and started to run. “You are a good friend,” he said and it was not clear which of the two he meant. The exercise would not hurt him, and it was a good few miles still to Alandur. Time to lose a few pounds.

Girdlegard,

Queendom of Weyurn, Mifurdania,

Late Spring, 6241st Solar Cycle

Mind out, Rodario!” He heard Tassia’s warning just in time. He ducked, the slops aimed at his back missing him by inches and hitting the girl instead. She cried out and stumbled backwards into Mifurdania’s floodwaters, which washed the pail’s stinking contents from her dress.

“That’s good luck,” grinned Rodario, punching an injured pursuer full in the face as he was trying to jump onto the walkway from one of the boats. The thug landed in the water. Then the actor spun around, beaming. “Master Umtaschen? You haven’t forgotten me? Delighted to find you still so lively.”

“You foul seducer!” shouted the older man, who had attacked so suddenly with the bucket. “She was promised to the judge’s son. He would have none of her with your bastard in her belly!” He swung the bucket again. “I’ll have your balls off for that!”

“Master Umtaschen, it was your daughter who seduced me,” retorted Rodario, fending off the pail. “And I wasn’t the first. Believe me, I’d have noticed.” He grabbed the bucket and hurled it at the last of the band of pursuers Nolik’s father had sent after them.

The man, who had been balancing precariously debating his next move, was sent flying into the water to join Tassia and his comrade in thuggery.

“At least the others didn’t make her pregnant!” Umtaschen roared, swinging both fists.

“If that is the case, Master Umtaschen, I’ll be happy to meet with her again and show her a good time. It seems I have your blessing as long as I’m careful where I aim this time,” laughed Rodario as he took a sudden step forward.

Umtaschen sprang back out of range inside his house. “We’re not done yet!” he threatened and disappeared as fast as he could when Rodario gave a warning stamp with his foot.

Someone splashed him. He turned round.

A girl’s hand waved from below the edge of the landing stage. “Help me up before the other two get me,” Tassia called and he hurried over to haul her out. As she stood in front of him soaked to the skin, he could see how the water had made her dress transparent.

The two who had been following them had given up and were swimming back to their three colleagues on the other side of the canal.

“What do we do now?” asked Tassia, smoothing back her wet fair hair. In Rodario’s eyes she was temptation itself. “They’re bound to have gone to the Curiosum.”

“They didn’t find the necklace there so they think one of us has it,” Rodario said and nodded. “Hey, you blockheads!” he called out to the men, pretending to be holding something. “You want the necklace? Think again! Tell Nolik’s father we’re going to sell it. He can come to Mifurdania and buy it back.” One of the heavies was about to clamber onto the string of tethered boats, but Rodario moved up to the end of the landing stage. “Stop right there! If anyone follows us we’ll chuck the necklace into one of the canals and you can go diving for it.” A gesture from his leader stopped the man in his tracks. “Well done,” the actor praised him, taking Tassia’s hand and running off. “Stay where you are!” he warned and ran off round the corner with a laugh.

When they were passing under an awning formed by garments drying on a washing line, Tassia stopped. “Wait! Give me a leg up!”

Rodario did as she asked, and she placed one foot on his locked hands and wedged her other foot against the wall; sprightly, as if on solid ground, she filched a dark yellow dress from the line and jumped down again. Without taking any note of her surroundings she stripped off her wet clothing and slipped into the stolen garment; then she gave Rodario a passionate kiss, laughed and ran off.

“This wild creature will be the end of me or the making of me,” he grinned, hurrying after her.

Late in the afternoon they finally arrived at the forge where Lambus worked. Rodario wanted to thank him and to get a few more details about where Furgas might be.

The inner gate to the forge stood open. A fire burned in the furnace and two pieces of metal lay red-hot in the flames waiting to be worked on. They couldn’t see the blacksmith.

“Lambus, you old iron-basher,” called Rodario. “Are you here?” He stepped into the half light but before his eyes could adapt to the dark he tripped over something on the ground. “What the…?” He bent down and saw what had nearly made him fall: a young man’s outstretched legs. In the man’s side there was a gaping hole. Blood had spread over the floor. “Mind out, Tassia,” he warned the girl, who was hot on his heels. “There’s been a murder.”

“Perhaps one of the heavies sent by Nolik’s father?” She peered over his shoulder and went pale. She stepped back, retching, then turned and fled for the door to get fresh air.

Rodario studied the brutal wounds: the work of a very sharp ax. “I don’t think so. Those men didn’t have weapons that could make injuries like these.” Rodario got up and went over to look at the iron objects in the furnace. One of them could indeed have been an ax head. “Lambus?” he called out, taking a poker and moving slowly into the dark recesses at the back of the forge.

At that point a figure jumped out of the shadows at him.

With great presence of mind Rodario stepped to one side and a dagger just missed his throat. “Assassin!” he shouted and took a wild swing with the poker, hitting the dark-clad attacker full in the face so he collapsed in a groaning heap. The knife clattered to the floor. To be on the safe side he gave the man another blow with the poker, then grabbed him and dragged him over to the part of the outbuilding where there was better light. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

He saw a dirty face marked with burns. The man was a good fifty cycles old and looked more like a simple workman than a professional killer. The poker blow had broken his nose and knocked out two of his teeth. There was blood coming out of his nostrils and his mouth. In a daze, he was trying to break away, but couldn’t.

“Tassia, bring me a red-hot iron!” Rodario requested. “We can pierce his tongue with it.”

“No, let me go,” he mumbled, terrified. “He’ll kill them if I’m not back on time.”

“Did you kill this man?” Rodario picked up the glowing metal and held it in the man’s face. His eyes widened in fear. “Who sent you and where is Lambus?”

The man was trembling like a fish on a hook. “I don’t know. Ilgar did it because the boy refused to come along and he threatened to betray us.”

Each answer brought more questions in its wake. “Get the story out, old man, or I swear-by Samusin-I’ll put out your eyes with this iron.” Rodario threatened the man again, putting on his most villainous expression, a face that went down well on stage. Not for a moment did he really intend to harm the old man any further.