Markus Heitz - The Revenge of the Dwarves

Tungdil grinned at Ireheart. “Now see what it was like for me with Bavragor. He tricked me just like that,” he said. “I’ll see you inside.” He disappeared into the vaults to look for Balyndis. He wanted to greet her, take her in his arms and surprise her with how he looked now. There would be plenty of time later on for long talks with Goda.

Boindil stared at the dwarf-woman and felt completely at a loss. It was true, he had sworn an oath. “Right,” he sighed. “I’ll quickly show you a few…”

“No,” said Goda. “You’ll teach me properly and you won’t stop until I’m at least as good as you. Same as my great-granny. And then we’ll fight to decide just how good your training has been.” She raised the night star and the blades grated against each other. “A proper fight, master.”

He rolled his eyes, put the crow’s beak on the ground and leaned his weight on the head of the weapon. “Goda, I may have been a good warrior, but I’m out of practice. And just because I’m a good warrior doesn’t mean I’m any good as a teacher.”

“You can say whatever you want, master; I’m not leaving your side until my training is complete.” The face of the dwarf-woman showed the familiar stubbornness of her people, coupled with the determination of all womankind. “Wherever you go, I’ll be there.”

And she stuck to his heels, as he attempted to enter the vaults, following him at half a pace. “You’re going to leave me in peace some of the time, though?” he asked over his shoulder.

“If you need to relieve yourself, master,” she answered, cockahoop that her trick had worked. “When shall we start the training sessions?”

Boindil stared straight ahead, and a broad grin spread across his weathered face. He would be so tough with her that she’d leave of her own accord. And then he wouldn’t be breaking his oath. “The training starts now without a break.” He found a pile of old beams that Tungdil had placed tidily against a wall. “Carry those out, one by one and pile them up outside by the gate,” he ordered bad-temperedly.

“Yes, master.” Goda did not even ask the reason for the order. She put down her weapon and shield and got ready for the task.

Ireheart picked them both up. “Who said you were to put those down?” he said bitingly. “A dwarf never leaves weapons lying about. And certainly never puts down his weapon if he’s only got the one.” He nodded at her. “Carry the wood, then you can start the search of the vaults.”

She wrinkled her brow. “What search?”

Boindil rattled the metal balls of the night star and started to swing it. “Later. I’m going to hide it and you can’t go to bed till you find it.” He stepped round the corner. He was only just out of sight and chuckled to himself. He heard her give a big sigh as she tried to lift the first of the beams onto her shoulder. He was thrilled to bits with his plan. He’d think up some more good ideas soon. He’d be rid of the child within a few orbits, he was sure.

T ungdil stepped quietly into the bedroom.

Balyndis lay under a thick blanket. Her eyes were closed and her face was half hidden in the pillow. The long dark hair made her face look chalk white in contrast: she really did look weak and sick. Cautiously he sat down next to her, thinking through what he had prepared to say; he stretched out a hand to touch her gently on the shoulder.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think I was dreaming,” she whispered. “A fine-looking dwarf has entered my chamber.” She opened her brown eyes and reached for his left hand with her right. “You’re looking good, Tungdil Goldhand. It’s been a long time since I saw you looking like that. What does this change in appearance signify?”

“It’s not just an outward change.” He kissed her fingers. “I’ve been a fool. Boindil forced me to see the error of my ways. I’ve stopped drinking,” he said quietly, looking her straight in the eyes. “I was making you suffer for the pain and the guilt that I was feeling and I behaved like a…” He swallowed.

“… like a stubborn, blind drunkard, self-obsessed and tortured by his conscience,” she completed for him without mercy. “You mean to say you’ve been off on a trip, had a chat with Ireheart and now you’re completely transformed?” Her surprise was obvious and her voice incredulous. “You’ve changed, just like that, in a few orbits?”

Tungdil nodded.

“How? Tell me everything, so that I can believe you.”

He told her what had happened at the edge of the precipice and how his warrior friend had forced him to choose between life and death. “The wall round my mind broke down and I saw things clearly for the first time in many cycles. I can only beg for forgiveness,” he said quietly. “Will you believe that I have changed?”

When she put her arms around him, Tungdil started to cry. He embraced her in return, pressing her to him; he closed his eyes. He smelt her hair, felt the soft down on her cheeks and her warmth against his skin.

They sat like that for a long time, holding each other tightly, each enjoying the nearness of the other-a closeness shared once more. Shared wholeheartedly.

“It’s not just your fault that we grew apart. I withdrew and left you on your own,” she confessed. “It won’t happen again.”

“Never again.”

She hugged him and took a long look at his face. “Give me time to get used to the new old Tungdil. This seems too good to be true.”

“It is true, Balyndis,” he smiled, but then a shadow fell across his face. “You look ill,” he said, his voice full of concern.

“It’s just the remains of a chill,” she answered. “I’m feeling much better now.” She kissed him on the brow. “You’ve met Goda?”

“She was quite a surprise. Especially for Ireheart.”

She grinned. “It will do him no harm if he has to contend with a dwarf-woman.”

Tungdil looked surprised. “You knew about her plan?”

“It was my idea.”

“What?”

Balyndis chuckled and sat back against the pillows. “When she turned up and asked if she could stay, I had no idea who she was. We talked a lot that first evening and I learned that she had been to the Blue Mountains. She had hoped to find you here to ask you where Boindil was. The secondlings refused to tell her.”

“You have set a young child on him, not a dwarf-woman.”

“She’s four and forty cycles old. You can see by her stature that she’s no longer a child,” Balyndis contradicted with amusement. “Ireheart will soon discover her female charms.”

“She’s related to the dwarf-woman he killed. There’s not likely to be any romance blossoming between those two,” he countered. “What was her original plan before you suggested this approach?”

“She wanted to kill him.”

Tungdil stood up, opened the buckles on his chain shirt and let it fall to the ground. Then he hung it carefully on the stand by the door. “She would never have been able to. But by the time her training is over, things might be different.” He slipped off his leather over-garment and stood before her in his shirt, breeches and boots. “She’s a thirdling, Balyndis. She’ll have picked up all the fighting skills and soon be better at it than him. Do you want her to kill him?”

She folded her hands and laid them on the blanket. “It won’t go that far.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Balyndis shrugged her shoulders and kissed him again, this time on the tip of his nose. “I can’t really say,” she admitted. “Call it intuition.”

“You women and your intuition,” he murmured and gave in. “Let us pray to Vraccas that you’re right about this.” He looked at his armor. “Have you heard what’s happening in Girdlegard?” When she shook her head, he summed up all the recent events he and Ireheart had experienced or heard about. “You’re sure that Goda isn’t after the diamond? What does your intuition say on that score?”