Jeff Crook: Dark Thane

He was filled with a sadness and loss that knew no bound. He knew that his duty lay with his people still inside the mountain. Yet there was no time for regrets. He must begin at once to plan a refuge for his followers.

“I know what you are thinking,” someone said behind him. Tarn looked over his shoulder to see Ogduan Bloodspike leaning his back against a boulder.

“What’s that you say, old one?” Tarn asked.

“I said I know what you are thinking,” the death skald answered.

“Tell me then. Because I don’t know what I am thinking, myself.”

“You should probably go to Pax Tharkas,” Ogduan said.

“And why is that?” Crystal asked.

But Tarn’s thoughts were already elsewhere. He walked to the edge of the path and looked down toward the exiles. “Where is Mog?” he asked. “Has anyone seen Mog?”

Otaxx shrugged, then turned back to the old dwarf. “I agree. Pax Tharkas is where we should go next.”

“Mog did not choose to come with us,” Ogduan said to Tarn.

“Why not?” Tarn asked in surprise.

“He asked me to tell you, because he knew you wouldn’t approve of his decision,” the old dwarf shrugged. “He’s going feral, plans to lead a guerilla war against Jungor Stonesinger from within the kingdom.”

“That fool!” Tarn snarled. “You bet your beard I wouldn’t have approved. I gave my word that we would all leave.”

“He has to follow his own destiny, Tarn Bellowgranite, just as you must follow yours,” Ogduan said as he pushed away from the boulder. The North Gate had nearly closed. “You don’t have to worry about Beryl anymore—the great dragon is dead. Go to Pax Tharkas. There will be elves waiting for you there, maybe even King Gilthas. There are other, more worthy challenges waiting for you also, Tarn Bellowgranite.”

“How do you know all this, old one?” Tarn scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

“The world has changed since last you poked your beard outside the mountain,” Ogduan laughed. “The gods have returned. Look for them. Meanwhile, make a new home for your wife and child. Crystal will need a safe place to have her baby.” Saying this, he stepped quickly through the narrow gap of the closing gate and vanished from sight. Moments later, the gate silently sealed itself shut, and even those who knew it well could not distinguish its lines from the surrounding stone.

Tarn and Crystal looked at one another in surprise. “A baby?” Tarn whispered. She nodded, her gray eyes pooling with tears.

“But how did he know… ?” asked Crystal. Shaking his head, Tarn enveloped her with one arm and pressed her close, losing himself in both joy and sadness as he looked into the calm, certain eyes of his young son. Tor blinked at him and smiled his toothless grin.

Otaxx slapped Tarn on the back and pummeled his shoulder in congratulations. Then he stole Crystal away from the king and squeezed her to his huge, round belly. “Pax Tharkas is a fine idea,” he shouted happily. “It has seemed more like home to me than Thorbardin for a long time. I can’t remember the last time a dwarf child was born there. It’s a good omen, I say.”

Crystal shrugged out of the Daewar general’s bear hug, complaining that she could barely breathe. “Well, after all, Pax Tharkas is close to my father’s own kingdom,” she said as she smoothed her tunic, “and we will be welcome there.”

“Hill dwarves?” Tarn jibed as they started down the mountainside.