The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,247

and opened it. It contained daggers made of a white metal. “They are made of pure palandium and can cut through anything. They have the power of the elf goddess in them and will equip you for the coming battle.”

Fiëa handed a knife to each of them.

Ireheart had to admit that the workmanship was excellent, even if they could not compare with dwarf-weapons. He could see the elves employed different procedures when tempering and forging metal. Children’s toys. But he did not want to be disagreeable so he thanked them politely for their gift and tucked his new dagger in his belt. It was quite something to have an elf weapon hanging on a dwarf’s combat belt.

“We have also destroyed wide swathes of Dsôn Bhará, as well as Phôseon Dwhamant. The area has been given back its old name of landur. The humans will make sure that nothing remains to remind them of älfar occupation.” Ilahín pointed to his wife. “Fiëa and I will return to the Golden Plain to found a settlement. We are convinced the elves will return to Girdlegard when the news of the victory gets out into the Outer Lands. We want them to find a home waiting when they arrive.” The elf smiled.

“How charming. But there are only two of you,” commented Slîn.

“We live long enough to get a lot done,” was Ilahín’s reply.

“And we shall not die before the other elves have arrived,” added Fiëa determinedly.

“The daggers are not their only gift. They have offered to fight with us against the monsters,” Tungdil explained.

“Isn’t that rather dangerous if you are keen to start a new homeland for your people?” Slîn asked, not noticing until after he spoke that his words could be construed as an insult of sorts. “I’m not doubting your skill in a fight, Fiëa and Ilahín, but… it will be a fierce battle and many will be injured, many will be killed. Of course it is nothing compared to the campaign you fought against the älfar in Girdlegard.”

Fiëa looked at him. “Your concern is touching, but we know how to fight, Slîn.” She bowed. “Permit us to retire. We must rest to be ready for the morrow.” She and Ilahín left the room.

“Well, what do you know?” Balyndar had the dagger on the table in front of him. “The elves have emerged from their forest haunts.” Slîn and Balodil laughed quietly.

“They know when a battle is hopeless and can assess when victory is possible.” Tungdil stared at them sharply, tying his new dagger to his belt. “Ask the fifthlings and firstlings. They have used similar strategies in past cycles, as far as I can make out. There is a difference between strategic withdrawal and the cowardice you seem to be accusing them of.” He walked to the door. “We meet tomorrow. I am not to be disturbed until sun-up, when we attack the beasts.”

Ireheart also took his leave and disappeared.

Slîn studied the model of the ravine and fortress. “Right, so tomorrow it is.” He glanced at Coïra. “You will cope, maga?”

“With Lot-Ionan and Goda’s support there should be no problem getting the mountain to collapse in on the abyss,” she answered. “On my own I would never manage it, but with the three of us I’m sure it’s possible.”

“But what if you have to use up your energy in the battle?” Balyndar tipped over some of the little figures in the evil camp.

“I don’t think we’ll have to. Lot-Ionan is the one who’ll have to cast most of the spells. His magic reserve is incredible. I don’t know how he does it. Even though Balyndar damaged his onyx staff.” She suppressed a yawn. “We’ll attack and defeat the army of darkness. If we run out of missiles for the new catapults, then it’s your turn. Together with the ubariu, the undergroundlings and the humans it should be easier than…” she flicked another of the little figures off the board “… doing that.” With these words she took her leave and left the chamber; the Zhadár disappeared without a farewell.

Slîn looked first at Balyndar, then back to Keenfire. “Don’t do anything silly,” he warned, as he got to his feet. He held his crossbow in such a way that it could be construed as a threat. “I shan’t let you out of my sight on the battlefield and should I see you up to any treachery directed against the properly elected high king…” He left the sentence unfinished and strode out, his