The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,263

saw Ireheart hunched over the corpse of the dead dwarf. It would have been so easy for her to keep him alive…

Epilogue

The Outer Lands,

The Black Abyss,

Early Summer, 6492nd Solar Cycle

Hargorin Deathbringer looked at the sixth of the vraccasium caskets—the one that had the thirdling runes embossed on the side.

Inside were some of Tungdil Goldhand’s ashes from the extremely moving cremation ceremony. In a departure from normal dwarf-tradition, the tribes and freeling dwarves had each been given a commemorative portion of the ashes of this, the mightiest and most worthy dwarf high king who had ever lived, so that they could conserve and honor his memory in their own land. This was the agreement the kings and queens had reached.

Ireheart pushed the box over the table to him, then handed the others to Xamtor, to Balyndis, who had now recovered from her fever, to Frandibar, and to Gordislan the Younger from the freeling city. He did not touch the last box, which had the sign of the secondlings on it.

They had all gathered in the assembly hall of the fortress round a small table to discuss what had happened and what the immediate future might hold for the children of the Smith. All those present were distraught at the recent death of their hero and the atmosphere was distinctly gloomy.

Hargorin looked at the others, then slid the little casket back to Ireheart. “They have chosen you as their king. It is yours. Take it with you to the Blue Mountains and put up a worthy monument to your friend.”

Ireheart looked at the box. Part of him was still refusing to accept the idea that the Scholar was now dead. Another part of him embraced the notion that it had not been Tungdil but his doppelganger who had died. And the third and strongest part of him knew who it was they had committed to the fire while the trumpets had sounded, the dwarf-choirs had sung and prayers to Vraccas had been spoken. Balyndis told them all that it had indeed been Tungdil. Ireheart’s inner being had told him the same thing.

I should have listened to my own feelings right from the beginning. He had allowed himself to be influenced by those like Goda and Kiras who had been led astray. There were still those among the tribes who were secretly waiting for Tungdil’s return. I know better.

He stretched his hand out slowly and placed his fingers on the reddish golden metal. “I shall do that, Hargorin.” He took a long breath. “I shall leave soon, together with those of my tribe who had fled to the freelings. We will put things to rights and will clear the last of the black-eyes’ corpses from the tunnels.”

Balyndis gave him an encouraging smile. “You will be more than capable, Boïndil. I know from our previous acquaintance that you always love a challenge.”

Ireheart gave a faint grin in response. “Let’s hope Vraccas is listening, Queen Balyndis.”

“We still have to settle the matter of appointing our next high king,” said Frandibar thoughtfully.

“Let’s leave that question open. For the next twenty cycles,” suggested Xamtor. “I don’t think it would be fitting to choose a replacement for Tungdil Goldhand in a rush. Let the throne remain empty for now. We shall see who proves worthy of the high office of supreme leader of all the dwarf-tribes.”

“If it were up to me,” Hargorin said, indicating Boïndil, “it would be him.”

Ireheart raised his hand, rejecting the honor. “I thank you for your nomination but I should not want to accept the title. Xamtor’s suggestion is the best. Let us meet once a cycle and report what occurs in each of our dwarf realms. In twenty cycles’ time we will summon the clan leaders and let them decide.” His speech was greeted with applause.

Frandibar looked at the model of the Black Abyss, which still showed the rocks and fortress. “Evildam will be left in the care of the ubariu and undergroundlings, Boïndil.”

“Yes. There is no reason to hold on to the fortress or repair it. They can let the fortress decay or use the materials to build something else. I heard talk about erecting a statue to Tungdil’s memory.” He consulted the lined faces round him. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

Nobody had any new issues to bring to the table and so the assembly broke up, with the delegates taking leave of each other before making their way back to their own realms. Frandibar would have the shortest