The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,191

pain.

The famula sobbed as blood ran down from the cut on her head, dripping down to the floor. She did not know what the dwarf intended to do with her. Why didn’t he just kill her? Or did he… could he… surely not…?

When he pushed her into a side corridor and tugged at her robe, her worst fears proved true.

Goda had reached the south tower when the building shook under her feet—it was only a slight vibration and a human would not have noticed it at all, but dwarves are sensitive.

“I knew it!” She ran to the lift and found only an empty shaft. No matter how she turned the levers, nothing happened. When she looked over to the rollers round which the chains would normally be wound, there was only bare stone.

A dwarf came running up the stairs. “My lady, the lift has crashed!” he said, fighting for breath. “Both chains have broken.”

“Impossible! They can withstand a greater load than would ever fit in the cabin.” She took a jewel in her hand. “Call the guards. They must search the place floor by floor. “I’ll start down in the foundations.”

The soldier asked, “What are we searching for?”

“Intruders.”

“The gate is bolted and barred and no one…”

“Do what I say!” she snapped and flew down the stairs. It would take forever to get down to the basement like this.

To construct a fortress by simply building onto sand or earth would be criminally stupid, because its weight would make it subside, jeopardizing the whole edifice. For this reason Evildam’s foundations were made from huge blocks brought in by dwarf-muscle effort and complicated technology. The foundations were reinforced on the side nearest the Black Abyss in case of an incursion. Bottles of poison, acid and gas; false walls that would collapse; all this and more had been put in place to greet any subterranean invader. No one could undermine a dwarf-stronghold.

Despite falling down seven steps, Goda arrived at the bottom in one piece. She had not noticed the coating of blood on the floor. She stopped and listened attentively.

She heard someone whimpering. It was her daughter’s voice!

The maga slipped quietly through the corridor and the sounds grew louder, coming from one of the side passages.

She looked carefully round the corner and saw the opposing magus about to strip her daughter naked.

Goda pressed the diamond splinter in her hand so hard that she drew blood. She must not let her fear gain the upper hand. Too much was at stake. Vraccas, you hold in your hands your own fate and that of my daughter! She leaped round the corner and hurled a spell against the enemy dwarf.

He noticed too late to invoke a counter-spell. Instead, he threw Sanda into the corridor, pulled back his arms and offered his armored chest to the incoming beams of lava-red light.

The magic hit home and the dwarf’s armor glowed like fiery coals fanned by bellows. The vraccassium changed color to a flaming yellow, sucking the magic in, while the runes turned black as night.

“Kill him, Sanda!” yelled Goda. She had nothing but dust in her hand. She swiftly took out the next diamond splinter to add to her spell or to respond to an attack. But what she had just seen stole any last hope. She would never be able to overcome this dwarf with magic.

The glow vanished and Goda saw Sanda behind the enemy, ax raised. She thrust its blade down, hitting the dwarf in the tiny gap between the side of the neck and the edge of his helmet. But the blow was deflected by a protective layer of chain mail; the dwarf swayed slightly, making a frightful gurgling sound.

“Save Bandaál!” cried Sanda, “He’s at the bottom of the shaft…”

The dwarf hit out behind him and his gauntlet caught Sanda on the temple; she crumpled up.

Goda did not hesitate for a single eye-blink. Her daughter was not now in immediate danger and so she could risk using one of her strongest spells. It was the one she had originally employed to blast away the mountain above the Black Abyss, so it ought to suffice for this dwarf. It would have to!

She concentrated hard and sent out a lightning flash beam toward her adversary.

The dwarf hunched down and stretched out his arms as if appealing for clemency. But the energy streamed into the smoke diamond in his armored fist, turning it into a sparkling turquoise star. As the magic heated the metal there was a smell of