The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,235

my weapon!”

Tirîgon was still smiling and unperturbed, his long sword resting against his shoulder. “Tell me, you short-legged piece of scum: What makes you think it was me that shot those arrows?”

No quiver, no arrows, no bow. Too late Ireheart realized his mistake.

XXIX

Girdlegard,

Älfar Realm of Dsôn Balsur,

Dsôn,

Late Spring, 6492nd Solar Cycle

Through the sphere Balyndar caught sight of Lot-Ionan. The magus was exactly as they had so recently seen him portrayed. The sturdy dwarf needed all his strength to keep hold of Keenfire and brace it against the pressure stemming from the magic attack. Tungdil’s armor, as far as Balyndar could see, was doing its job well in protecting its bearer from lightning bolts delivered by the magus.

“Coïra!” Balyndar shouted in warning to the young woman; conscious, however, this would rob them of the element of surprise. He did not know how long he and Keenfire would be able to maintain their defense.

But there was no sign of their maga.

The assault ended and the magic barrier around him died away. “Vraccas!” he called, to give himself courage as he charged toward Lot-Ionan, blade upraised.

The magus stared at the ax, then looked at Tungdil and executed a swift movement. Above the dwarf’s head the ropes anchoring the lengths of fabric gave way and the banners unfurled about Tungdil’s ears. Balyndar understood: Lot-Ionan wanted to confront his attackers one by one.

An extra burst of speed took him nearly up to the magus.

As Lot-Ionan brandished the onyx-headed staff at him an orange-colored beam shot out, striking the stone panels around him and tearing them out of their fixtures. The magus, having understood that his adversaries were immune to direct magic attack, forced the young dwarf ten paces into the air directly in the path of the falling stone.

And Balyndar was falling now.

He struck out with Keenfire and hit one of the horizontal flag supports. The ax head hooked itself over and he swung to and fro on the banner as if on a rope. Serious injury or death would result from a fall from this height.

Balyndar looked down at Coïra and froze in horror. The wound he saw in her body had to be fatal, surely, but how had it occurred? Too late he remembered that Lot-Ionan had been fighting an älf when they arrived. The älf must have used the chance to escape and have attacked the maga.

However distraught he was about Coïra, he had to act.

Gathering the material in his hands, he locked both arms around it and used the flag to slide safely down to ground level.

On the way down he witnessed Tungdil and Lot-Ionan talking together! He could not hear what they were saying because he was too far away, but they were standing face to face, neither attacking the other. What did it mean?

Tungdil leaped forward and swept Bloodthirster at the magus, who laughed as he made a gesture that had the dwarf suddenly enveloped by one of the flags; then he reached out at full stretch to land a blow on Tungdil with his staff.

Hardly had the onyx stone touched the embroidered material than the fabric turned into a gigantic snake wrapping its coils around Tungdil’s body. Muscles worked feverishly and the armor creaked in protest but the dwarf was unable to move.

Balyndar was on the ground by this time and rushed over toward Lot-Ionan, Keenfire at the ready. The diamonds and inlay pattern shone with inner fire and the heat it gave out was like being in a forge.

Bald-headed Lot-Ionan saw him coming and turned to face him. “So what are the children of the Smith doing, coming to the aid of the älfar?” The ends of his beard waggled and the sharp-featured face was an uncanny picture of malice.

“We’re not here on their behalf.” Balyndar leaped at the magus, swinging Keenfire in a powerful stroke; Lot-Ionan did not have to know that he only intended to hit him with the flat side of the weapon.

The magus sidestepped with surprising agility, raising his own staff to strike Balyndar.

Keenfire and onyx clashed in mid-air.

The explosion that ensued stunned and dazzled Balyndar. He could hear a rattling sound as if pebbles were being dropped. Blinded, he stumbled forward under the impetus of his own attack and staggered into a pillar, which broke his fall.

He ducked and whirled round, holding Keenfire in front of himself as protection. Gradually his sight returned.

Tungdil was still locked in the clutches of the enormous snake.

Lot-Ionan waved the remains of his broken staff accusingly in