The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,189

murmur, like the babbling of a brook.

The magic screen had disappeared, and none of the smaller beasts were on the plain anymore. They were all heading for the North Gate, taking their half-completed siege towers with them.

“I don’t get it,” Goda said to herself. Why on earth the North Gate? Are they trying to draw our attention away from the South Gate? She leaned over and looked down.

“We thought it was a trick at first, too,” Boëndalin said. “But the other towers report no activity. The beasts are attacking in the north in a mad frenzy and the gate guards are in trouble. I’ve given orders for all the soldiers and ammunition to be sent over.”

“I want to see for myself.” Goda watched the Black Abyss closely as she ran with her son, past the western gate and on to the northern defenses. It was a very long way.

The ravine was in darkness and the paths leading out of it were empty and abandoned. Every single one of the monsters had assembled at the northern gateway.

“Either their reinforcements are hiding, waiting to see what the outcome will be, or else they haven’t got any extra forces,” Boëndalin told her when he saw her enquiring glance. “So the northern gate is not a bad choice for them. It’s the last place we would have expected them to attack.”

“But they must know we can move in extra troops fast along the battlements and through the inside corridors,” she objected. “It’s a false attack, I’m convinced. They’re trying to distract us.” She watched the fighting, which was growing more violent now. “Where is their magus?”

“No sign of him,” replied Boëndalin. “Do you think…?”

“They are carrying out the attack for him,” said Goda. “He’s planning something. He wants to tie up all our efforts on that one side.” She looked over at the south tower and stopped. “I’m going to hurry back. You get to the north tower and take command. As soon as you spot the magus, send me a message.” She embraced him swiftly and departed at speed.

Boëndalin charged off in the opposite direction.

Bandaál tied his boots, threw on his chain-mail shirt, grabbed his ax and hurried into the corridor. Even if no one had given them the call to arms, the young famulus wanted to be part of this. The fortress might be in need of every bit of available help.

“Wait!” The door to Sanda’s chamber was open and his sister came out. She was also wearing armor and carrying an ax. They were both gifted in magic but this did not prevent them using conventional weapons sometimes. Not being the same standard as their mother, they could not rely solely on their magic.

“Didn’t they wake you, either?” Bandaál adjusted her helmet.

She thanked him by correcting the lacing on his chain-mail tunic. “No. Mother wanted to let us sleep.”

He looked at her. “Or do you think it’s because of the failure of the mission?”

“It wasn’t a failure,” she retorted. “We killed lots of the beasts and destroyed masses of their equipment.”

He sighed. “You know what I mean.” He ran off, his sister at his heels.

“You reckon they think more highly of our warlike siblings and brother Boëndalin? That may be so.” Sanda held her ax in her hand; it got in the way in her belt. “That’s why it’s important we are seen.”

They hurried along the corridor that housed their family’s rooms. This was where the dwarves rested, and where they shared their community life. Evildam was nothing but an artificial symmetrical mountain with a system of tunnels and chambers.

They crossed the communal living area where the Doubleblades often met up and sat together in the evenings to discuss the events of the orbit, on past the kitchen, and then they reached the lift shaft that went all the way from the foundations to the highest battlement tower. The lift was a tremendous boon.

Bandaál touched the lever to move the weights and call the lift cage down to their level. “I wonder what the monsters are up to?”

“It must be pretty bad if they sounded the alarm for the whole fortress,” said Sanda, thoughtfully.

“Apart from where we were.” Bandaál decided that, after the attack—or whatever it was—he would have a serious talk with his mother. Even if she did not want any of her famuli near her, he and his sister needed to be told of any danger. How did it look if the fortress commander’s own children slept on in