The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,117

the rest of your relatives will be joining you this very night.”

Alysante tried to utter a final warning cry, but the double blade rushed down and took her to the land where Fanaríl sat waiting, tear-drenched in his despair.

There was total stillness in the kitchen.

Ireheart was amazed how good a storyteller Lombrecht had been, given his lack of teeth.

“And that,” Lombrecht summed up,” is how the älfar came back into Girdlegard.

“Didn’t Emperor Aiphatòn bring them in from the south?” Slîn asked, indicating to the other two dwarves that he was sounding these simple humans out as to the extent of their knowledge. Ireheart was letting the implications of the story sink in. Barskalín had hinted that the älfar had entered from the north. Lombrecht had told the story of their return. A kernel of truth, then.

Lombrecht replied, “It’s said they came out of the south. But I know this story and I like it. Aiphatòn will have made up the other story to make himself more glorious. We all know the magus cannot be beaten.”

“Does your tale have an explanation for how the black-eyes got out of the water so easily, as if they could breathe underwater like the fishes?” The mere thought of a black pond made him extremely uneasy.

“My grandfather used to tell me there was an underground river that rose in a grotto in the Outer Lands and emerged into the Moon Pond. It brought evil with it and made people frightened if they found the water and wanted to bathe. That must be why it’s got the bad aura and why there are so many legends about it.” Lombrecht used his spoon to scratch a sketch map on the table. “The älfar will have followed the course of the underground river, underneath the Gray Mountains and the fifthlings, and then they got out of the water. Later on they rebuilt Dsôn Bhará and called themselves Dsôn Aklán.”

Ireheart pushed away his empty plate. “But Girdlegard must be overflowing with älfar if that’s the case. That route must still be open.”

“No, the tunnel collapsed. That’s what we think, because the Moon Pond dried up completely. It’s just a rocky hollow now where nothing grows. It’s where the älfar put their town. But there’s no tunnel, it’s said,” said Rilde, relief in her voice.

“We still have too many of them anyway,” said Lombrecht, getting Xara to bring him a jug of beer, which he emptied at one draft. A loud belch ensued.

Slîn applauded. “Well done, old man. Nice quality. Now I know how he lost his teeth,” he chuckled to Ireheart. “We could make him an honorary dwarf, don’t you think?”

Balyndar shook his head. “We should get to bed. We don’t know what we’ll have to do tomorrow.” He got up.

Rilde stood up. “Of course. You can sleep in the barn. Or in the cowshed loft. It’ll be warmer there.”

“The loft for me,” said the fifthling at once. “I’d rather smell of cows and be warm.”

They went to their quarters and Grolf and Lirf brought them a stack of old horse blankets to keep out the cold.

The warmth and smell of cattle came up through the floorboards and Ireheart soon started to doze off, exhausted.

His last thought was that they had forgotten to inform Hargorin where they were staying. That meant they would have to rise early and knock at the door of the fortress. He did not want Rilde or her family to know. They should not connect the honest dwarves of Girdlegard with either the Black Squadron or the Zhadár.

Ireheart, Slîn and Balyndar managed to pack their things and leave the farm without being observed.

They walked along at the edge of the settlement and approached the second gate of the fortress, where they knocked. Even though the guard recognized them at once and, in Hargorin Deathbringer’s name, invited them in, they refused to enter the courtyard. The sentry sent someone to tell the thirdling leader.

It was not long before he reappeared. Behind him came three servants carrying a bench and a table laid with a meal for them.

“You can eat outside if you prefer,” they were told. “But be quick. The troop is about to head for Dsôn Bhará.”

The three dwarves looked at one another and started to eat in silence outside the gates of the fortress. This conflicted with Ireheart’s plan to keep their presence secret. The sun was not yet fully risen, but word would soon get around.

“We should have used false names,” said Balyndar,