The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,197

Even if it came to a battle and you penetrated the ravine, your daughter would not be there. You will only get her back if the one who bears many names and who is our master receives Balodil’s corpse and the armor he stole.”

Goda turned to the messenger, who was holding his two shields closer now, in order to be able to hide behind them if necessary. “I am a dwarf and would never betray one of my own kind,” she said, her voice quivering. “Tell your master he may expect nothing of me. Apart from a painful death if he touches my daughter.” She strode off abruptly and gave the sentries a sign to close the gate.

“He who bears many names and who is our master accords you three orbits in which to make up your mind. After that time has elapsed you will receive the fingers of your daughter’s right hand,” Goda heard the creature say before the gates thudded shut.

Much as the dwarf-woman tried not to waste further thought on the offer, she could not forget it. “What harm if I were to kill the deceiver?” she said to herself once she had returned to her own chamber. She knelt again at the shrine and prayed to Vraccas. “You know he is not really Tungdil. To exchange his life for Sanda’s would not be a crime, but a doubly good deed.” She shut her eyes and saw her daughter’s countenance before her. She wept.

Girdlegard,

Former Queendom of Rân Ribastur,

In the Southeast,

Spring, 6492nd Solar Cycle

Tungdil had decided not to take the most direct route, which would have involved a long march through the Sangpur deserts, and so their company had set off for the southern part of Rân Ribastur; they would head east later on, to make straight for the Blue Mountains.

They had seen very few humans. Tungdil, using the maps carefully, had led them through the forests, which grew so thick in places that they had to walk in single file, with the head of the column slashing at the undergrowth to carve out a path. They had abandoned the ponies.

They purchased provisions from the smallholdings they passed on the way. Rodario and Mallenia were in charge of buying stores; that way, no one got to see the dwarves.

And things were astonishingly quiet.

There were no wild animal attacks and the legendary enchanted creatures and magic plants left them in peace as well. But they were given dire warnings about not leaving the path and not traveling through the forest by night.

Making a final stop on the territory of the former queendom, they rested one late afternoon in the shadow of towering trees, whose foliage let through hardly any light; the canopy of leaves would give them protection from the heat waiting to hit them a few miles further to the east when they emerged from the forest.

Slîn used his telescope to scan the dunes about four miles away. “The light is shimmering as if it were water.”

“And I’m very glad to know that it’s not,” said Ireheart, who was sitting on the ground, his back against a tree trunk. “I can’t wait to get away from all these creepy creepers but I’m not too keen on burning hot sand, either.”

“Or the icy nights of the desert.” Balyndar filled his drinking pouch with water from the little stream. “Dwarves are mountain people. I don’t mind the cold if I’m where I belong.”

“I couldn’t agree more, fifthling.” Slîn nodded and swung his telescope. “Nothing for miles. No long-uns, no trees, no shade.” He lowered the glass. “It’ll be the first time for me, going into the desert.”

“It’s said to be very beautiful,” said Rodario, trying to see the bright side of what was probably going to be the toughest part of their journey. “A desert isn’t only sand. There’ll be rocks aplenty. That’ll cheer you up, friend Slîn.” He altered his voice and took on the persona of a storyteller. “In the old days the queendom was a mountain region, one peak higher than the next. People say the wind in Sangpur is so fierce that it eroded the mountains into sand inside of seven times seven cycles. Now, this is all that remains.”

“You can tell that to your grandmother,” growled Ireheart.

Rodario beamed. “I did. She believed me.”

“Well it’s nonsense! The only mountains in Girdlegard are our own. The only genuine mountains.”

“Isn’t it amazing what they can find to quarrel about?” Coïra remarked to Mallenia, passing her the salami. “About