The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,47

Loytan,” he prophesied. “And I bet you’ll come running to apologize.”

As he spoke, something in the actor’s gaze brought Loytan up short. Was it a sudden manliness? Probably just imagination. “And you’ll probably save my life and then marry the princess, I suppose?” He laughed, startling the seagulls.

“Why not?” The actor grinned at Coïra and rubbed his ungroomed beard. “Do you find me so ugly, or may I dream of a life at your side…?”

She raised a finger in warning. “You are speaking out of turn, Rodario the Seventh! Consider who it is that you are addressing.” She rode down the dune, heading for a narrow quay where a skiff lay moored, its small sail furled.

Rodario looked over to the island. It had to be a good mile from the shore.

But island was not really the expression to use. Ever since the water level in Weyurn’s lakes had started to drop, cycle after cycle, many of the islands stood high above the surface, while others had been left completely isolated, far from the waterline. The inhabitants had installed pulley lifts and built flights of stairs to enable them to leave their islands. Fishermen had been forced to become farmers, turning the lakebed into agricultural land—not always very fertile land, at that.

The situation for Lakepride was not so critical. It seemed to float above the lake maybe sixty paces up, balanced on a stone pillar, resembling a tulip flower on its stem.

Rodario noted seven barges, three ships and eighteen smaller vessels moored at a landing stage below the island; the landing stage was secured by heavy chains and there was a precarious-looking spiral staircase leading up to where the people lived. He could see windlasses and pulleys among the equipment on the landing stage. The residents of Lakepride had made the best of their predicament.

“The island looks as if it might break off at any moment and come crashing down into the lake,” said Rodario to Loytan, who nodded.

“Yes, you’d think so, but the pillar of stone it rests on is volcanic rock. Nothing can bring that down.” He urged his horse onward down the side of the dune, more sliding than walking down. Rodario followed suit. “The people of Lakepride are lucky; at least they can still work as fisherfolk.”

They waited by the low-slung sailing barge for the ferryman to emerge from his little hut. He wore a long dark-blue garment that did not disguise the strong shoulder muscles rippling beneath the fabric. Round his neck he wore the white kerchief of his guild, and his wrists were protected by leather supports to aid in the heavy work of propelling the boat. He recognized Coïra immediately and bowed low. “It will be an honor, Princess, to take you back to your palace,” he said respectfully, inviting her onto his boat.

As always she attempted to pay for his services and as always the payment was declined. She smiled at him. “If any orcs turn up looking for us…”

“I’ll tell them I haven’t seen you,” said the man. “And if they want to cross I’ll tell them the boat has sprung a leak.”

Coïra stepped into the boat and patted her horse’s neck. “Don’t put yourself in danger on my account. Ferry them over if they insist, but I don’t think they’ll dare. The island is my undisputed realm. They know they can’t harm me there.”

Rodario and Loytan dismounted, as she had done, and held their animal’s reins tightly while the ferryman hoisted the sail and started the crossing.

He had to tack against the wind, so they reached the landing stage in a wide arc. It brought huge rusty iron walls into view rising from the water below the island and a little to the east.

Rodario had noticed the structure and craned his neck to see more. “What is that? A groyne to protect the island?”

“No. It’s a bulkhead.” Coïra instructed the ferryman to change course so that they could inspect it.

“Bulkhead? What’s that when it’s at home?”

“It’s to support the sides of a shaft. It’s where we’re heading first, so you’ll have the chance to admire the dwarves’ engineering skill,” she explained. “The fifthlings built it at my great-grandmother’s request.”

“A shaft. In the middle of a lake. But… what for? And how deep does it go?” He was so excited that he walked forward to the bow. The breeze lifted his brown hair and played through his beard.

The ferry headed straight for the structure and Rodario could soon make out the dwarf-runes