The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,227

know?”

Ireheart grabbed his water flask and moistened his dry throat. “I suspected it,” he replied quietly. “How much do you know about it?”

“Nothing at all. But I can read the symbols. It indicates a pact between the armor and the one who wears it that each will protect the other and that they will never part. Then the day will come when the wearer will never want to take it off at all. Not even to sleep. Not even when he eats. Not even when he defecates. His flesh will be rubbed raw by it, gangrene will set in and Tungdil will die in his own excrement.” Aiphatòn saw the horror in the dwarf’s face. “Make him take it off.” He strode past, toward the door. “I am going to Dsôn Bhará, to finish my mission.”

“Perhaps it won’t be necessary.” Ireheart explained what Vot had vouchsafed to them.

The älf considered the implications. “Then I shall see what the magus has left. If he and I encounter each other I shall overpower him and leave him bound and tethered for you to find.” He winked at Ireheart. “Look after your friend if his life is dear to you.” With these words he left the hall.

The dwarf followed him with his eyes, then looked at Tungdil, who was still seated on the remains of the throne, staring at the wall, one hand stroking his thigh guards, lost in thought.

XXVIII

Girdlegard,

Former Queendom of Sangpur,

At the border with Gauragar,

Late Spring, 6492nd Solar Cycle

The desert was safely behind them now—their journey had been speeded up by the horses they had acquired at an oasis.

If they maintained present progress they would soon be in the central region of the älfar realm and thus near Lot-Ionan. Only short rests were accorded, enough to refresh the horses. Dwarves and humans ate while they rode.

During one of these evening pauses Rodario was sitting opposite the two women, his face indicating that he had an important announcement to make. “I accept,” he stated.

Coïra and Mallenia exchanged glances.

“The clause about not sharing a bed with the two of you at the same time: I accept,” he repeated. “I don’t want to have to do without either one of you. The last few orbits have brought this home to me. And if two such charming ladies make me an offer of the kind you’ve made, I would be mad to turn it down.”

Coïra leaned forward, beaming, to give him a resounding kiss on the left cheek, while Mallenia did the same on the right. A dutiful little gesture to seal an unusual pre-liaison agreement.

Ireheart had been watching the three of them and shook his head. “I’ll never understand these long-uns,” he told Tungdil. “Would you take a look at that constellation over there?”

“If they’re fond of each other and are happy with the relationship, what’s wrong with that?” Tungdil put a large branch on the fire over which their supper was roasting: Slîn had shot them four rabbits. “I’d be the last person to criticize their arrangements.” He put his hand on his back to ease it.

“Shall I help you take the armor off? It must be uncomfortable.” Ireheart stretched out his hand to undo the buckles but his friend evaded him.

“Our mission is dangerous. Anything could occur. I won’t want to lose vital minutes putting my armor on and I can’t risk being injured through only having my normal leather jerkin on just because it’s more comfortable,” said Tungdil, rejecting his offer of assistance.

“When was the last time you took it off?”

“A long time ago.”

“Indeed it was, Scholar.” Ireheart passed him a rabbit thigh. The meat was piping hot and smelled delicious. “Here, eat this. It’ll make you big and strong so that you can continue doing those great deeds we saw in the Blue Mountains.” He started eating the other thigh. “I don’t know how you do it: All that energy and stamina. Even at my wildest I don’t come near.”

“I’ve had a deal more practice than you, my friend,” Tungdil replied. He ate his food but displayed little appetite.

Ireheart pretended to have seen something on the back of the tionium armor. “There you are! There’s dirt on it. And here’s a big dent. How did that happen? We should give it a thorough clean. Or it might get fractious and stop protecting you. It might even go all hard again, like a steel girder, and then I’ll have to bash away at it as though I’m ringing a bell, just