The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,262

of dirt and steam still persisted.

The Black Abyss had gone; lava bubbled in its place, the black heart-blood of the mountains sealing up the chasm. Evildam had lost a good third of its walls and, as far as he could make out through the smoke, only a few of the human and ubariu warriors were still alive. The dwarf-fighters, men and women alike, had done better than the others because the kordrion had never reached their ranks.

“He has made the ultimate sacrifice,” he muttered gruffly. “The Scholar knew what would happen and gave his life for us!” Tears filled his eyes. “Vraccas, you have admitted the greatest of your heroes to your eternal forge today.”

“There!” cried Rodario with a happy laugh. “Can you see what I see?”

Ireheart glanced to the left—and gave a shout of joy: Through the smoke and ash a dwarf came swaying and stumbling, clad in battered tionium; he was using Bloodthirster as a crutch and limping over toward them.

“Scholar!” Ireheart rejoiced. “Oh, Vraccas, if I ever strike it rich I’ll offer all my wealth at your shrine! It’ll be worth it! Worth it a thousand times over!”

The armies on the plain and fortress walls had seen Tungdil. The chorus of voices cheering their hero was louder than any shouts of joy Ireheart had heard before. He wept with emotion.

Tungdil was badly burned; lava had cooled and hardened on his chest, and blood was pouring from a gaping wound in his side. But still he had walked smiling out of the inferno and was now waving to the humans, the ubariu, the undergroundlings and his own folk.

“That’s my Scholar,” sobbed Ireheart.

“I knew we’d do it,” said Slîn, shaking hands with Ireheart. “A good job we trusted him.”

The dwarves, injured or otherwise, sank to their knees before the high king: Even Ireheart and Slîn, who was putting a new bolt in his bow to be on the safe side, bowed to show respect.

The wave spread.

Humans, elves, ubariu and undergroundlings bowed before Tungdil Goldhand as the trumpets blared. Tungdil walked steadily onward until he had nearly reached his friend.

I knew it! Ireheart was the first to get to his feet, intending to give Tungdil a hearty embrace, high king or no.

Suddenly Kiras sprang past him and he felt a jerk at his arm as she raced toward the Scholar. He realized too late that the undergroundling had grabbed Keenfire out of his grasp.

“This is not Tungdil Goldhand! This weapon can’t be fooled like you can.” Kiras shrieked, holding the legendary ax in both hands. “See how the diamonds sparkle! What more proof do we need?” She delivered a strike.

Slîn uttered a curse and lifted his weapon, aiming and firing in one smooth movement.

The bolt struck Kiras from behind, finding her heart, but at the same time the ax sliced through the tionium armor, through the ribs and into Tungdil’s heart. They fell dying into each other’s arms, to sink into the swamp.

The trumpeting stopped abruptly and a mass cry of horror resounded on all sides.

“No!” Ireheart ran up. He dragged the undergroundling’s body off Tungdil, levered Keenfire out of the wound and surveyed the horrific injury, which was pouring blood. A conventional healer would be unable to do anything at all.

“Coïra,” he yelled, beside himself. “Come here and save him, maga!”

She stepped forward slowly and shook her head sorrowfully. With a voice thick with tears she said, “I can’t. I have nothing left. I used it all to produce the wind you asked for…”

Ireheart lifted his friend’s head and washed away the mud from his face using water from his drinking pouch. “This must not be allowed to happen, ye gods,” he shouted. “You cannot let the hero of Girdlegard and the Outer Lands die!”

“It… was… not… Tungdil,” breathed Kiras, contorting her body and moaning. “The gems on the ax… I had to do it…” Her eyes dimmed.

“IT WAS HIM!” cried Ireheart, staring at Keenfire. The diamonds were still glowing but Boïndil knew that the cause was him—a result of the elf curse—not Tungdil. “It was him!” he echoed quietly, weeping at the death of his friend.

Goda opened her eyes.

She had heard everything and had only pretended to be in a swoon so that her husband would not be able to demand that she save the creature’s life.

When she sat up she noticed something sparkling in the cuff of her sleeve.

She reached and pulled out the last of the lost diamond splinters. It had been with her all along!

Goda