The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,65

if the reports are true.”

Rodario did not warm to the man’s reasoning, because it was based, it seemed, on personal fear rather than on any intent that good should prevail, but support was still support. “Your Highness, please!” He knelt at her feet. “I will be forever in your debt if you save Mallenia!”

Coïra smiled at him—smiled with a totally new expression in her eyes—and touched him on the shoulder. “Get up, Rodario the Seventh. You must not kneel before me. Someone with your noble attitude of mind certainly should not be kneeling.” She climbed up the wall of the shaft—and jumped!

With a shocked cry Rodario rushed forward to stare into the raging water to look for Coïra.

Next moment he saw her racing at incredible speed, suspended above the storm-tossed waves, heading for the shore. A bluish light surrounded her and turquoise-colored lightning flashes carried her along.

“What a woman,” he exclaimed in admiration, and he heard Loytan’s spiteful laughter.

“Don’t give yourself airs, actor!” he said. “Coïra may pay you some attention now but she’ll never respect you. You are beneath her dignity.” His tone grew sharp.

“Listening to you one could presume you had intentions of your own that are not appropriate, sir. You are husband to another,” Rodario said cuttingly as he pulled himself up to his full height. “Let’s be frank: I don’t much like you at the best of times, and that warning you’ve just given me is the last straw.”

The count’s expression lost all its superciliousness. “I see you have a sharp tongue when you need it.”

“Sharp enough to have you in slices if you’re looking to challenge me to a duel.”

“I shan’t need to do that. Coïra will always trust my word over yours. I’ll make sure you leave us soon.” Loytan bared his teeth. “When you’ve dried off, actor. Maybe. In those waters you can easily catch your death.”

Rodario nonchalantly wiped a few drops off his arm. “A bit of spray doesn’t bother me.”

“Who’s talking about a bit of spray?” Without warning Loytan gave Rodario a shove that sent him flying over the wall.

The actor’s damp fingers could get no purchase on the metal. He tumbled down into the lake, crying out as he fell. The waters of the lake had been whipped up by the approaching storm.

He fell head first and the water felt like liquid ice. Every fiber of his being registered the bitter cold; he thought he could hear the blood freezing in his veins.

Underwater currents thrust him mercilessly against the metal wall of the shaft, scraping his face roughly. Then the life force in Rodario awoke. Whirling his arms about wildly, he fought his way up to the light where the surface must be.

Mallenia looked round again and saw only the älf woman, less than one hundred paces behind her, forcing her nightmare onwards with pitiless strokes of her riding crop.

“Faster!” the young woman screamed into the ear of her nightmare mount, drawing her knife and placing it at the animal’s neck. “I swear you will die before me if they catch up.”

Without warning, a black shadow appeared on her right; it had glowing red eyes and was charging down the sand dunes toward her. It collided with the nightmare she rode, hurling horse and rider to the ground. The second älf had overtaken her and thrown her off!

Mallenia and her stallion rolled in a confused heap down the slope of the dune to the shore. The nightmare made a shrill and furious shriek. She managed to keep out of the way of its thrashing legs, but the creature’s vicious incisors grabbed her upper arm. A piece of flesh the size of a fist was gouged out of her, the animal’s teeth grinding against bone as it clamped its jaws on the limb and hurled her toward the water.

Mallenia screamed and thought at first she had lost her arm completely. Blood poured out of the wound, splashing on the pebbles. Even if everything about her hurt she could not lie here. She sat up and was about to get to her feet to run, but her legs gave way beneath her.

Trampling hooves came ever nearer; the älf siblings rode up, closing the gap at their ease. Suddenly there was no longer any need for haste. The race was decided.

“There she is, the murderess and thief,” said the female älf, full of hatred, leaping down from the saddle. She ran up to Mallenia and beat her with her riding stock.

The woman raised