The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,201

I got away.” She looked at her hand. “Quick, give me a knife!” she cried, holding her hand outstretched. “Those are not my fingers! They are his! He made them grow there! They will obey his will!”

“Hush, my child.” Goda took her in her arms and rocked her as she had done with the infant Sanda. “You are back with us now.”

Sanda coughed. “They are his fingers. I touched the barrier and it opened up for me,” she said abstractedly. “Why else would the screen do that?” Then she gave a long shrill scream. “The evil is now part of me!” With untold strength she tore herself out of her mother’s embrace, grabbed an ax from a startled sentry and had chopped off the fingers before Goda could stop her. “There! I’ve done it!” Sanda trampled on the severed digits, while blood spurted out of the stumps on her hand.

“Vraccas, restore her mind!” cried a horrified Goda, holding her fast. The sentries helped her. They bandaged up the bleeding hand so that Sanda would not die from blood loss and carried the fainting girl up to her chamber. There, her mother undressed her and bathed her.

Sanda’s body showed that she had been tortured. Goda wept tears of fury and hate. “For this I shall put him to death so slowly that it takes him a whole cycle to die,” she vowed. “What he deals out to others he shall suffer himself.” As she dried her daughter’s arms—she was brought up short. There was a mark on the inside of the left upper arm. She had never noticed it before. It was not a result of the torture she had endured. It was the size of a fingernail, red. It looked as if it had grown there.

Instinctively Goda recoiled and studied the dwarf-girl with different eyes. She started to doubt that it was really her own daughter. Had their enemy sent a copy, a clone? The same as he had done with Tungdil?

“Vraccas, rid me of my suspicions,” she prayed in sudden despair. “I’m sure she will always have had this mark but please let me remember having seen it before.” Still holding the towel she rested her hands in her lap and watched her daughter closely. She noted other peculiarities. Was the chin always so soft? Were the cheekbones not normally a little higher? And what about the nose? Even the shape of the eyebrows seemed suspect.

“No,” she said. “It is my daughter! It really is!” Goda dried Sanda’s shoulders and covered them with the sheet. “It is her. I’m not going to succumb to a trick. The enemy is trying to make me doubt her, wanting to sow distrust.” She took a deep breath and stood up to go to the guards to hear what had been happening in the plain by the Black Ravine. She had to force herself to place a farewell kiss on her daughter’s brow.

Girdlegard,

Former Queendom of Sangpur,

Southwest,

Spring, 6492nd Solar Cycle

Ireheart woke up and opened his eyes.

Above him the stars glinted; around him he could hear quiet snores, and then the crunch of sand. This came from Slîn’s boots; the fourthling was on watch, striding up and down. The two Zhadár who shared the guard duty made no sound when they walked.

Apart from that the camp was silent.

What woke me? Ireheart was surprised. While he was pondering, the stars appeared to be growing brighter. Now they were as bright as the sun by day, but they gave off no warmth. What’s…? He sat up.

Day seemed to have dawned.

Their surroundings showed up clear and distinct; he could even see Slîn relieving himself over at the rock; he was writing his name in the sand with dwarf-water. That was easy enough if you had a short name, of course, but it didn’t ever work with Ireheart’s. And if you wanted to put the family name as well, you’d have to drink an awful lot.

He rubbed his eyes but it was still bright, even though the sun had not yet risen. When he looked at his hands he saw a black liquid on his fingertips! It had come from rubbing his eyes.

He was suddenly frightened. What is happening? Is this place cursed?

He got up and Slîn looked over at him at once. Ireheart acknowledged him with a gesture and went over to ask if he had noticed anything strange.

He could see the fourthling clearly. He could discern every single ripple in the sand at his feet and could