The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,67

normal human—and much to the alarm of the älfar siblings.

“A maga,” Sisaroth warned his sister in a whisper. He was aware of the invisible power the unknown figure wielded. She was full to overflowing with it. “And who are you?” he raised his voice to ask.

“That’s no concern of yours,” she replied harshly, with obvious authority, gesturing toward the captive girl. “You will not harm her; you will get back on your nightmares and you will leave Weyurn. Get back to Idoslane or Gauragar or Urgon and do your evil deeds there.”

Firûsha placed her right foot on Mallenia’s breast. “No, she’s going back to Idoslane, too.”

“Just try to take her,” the woman threatened, her expression amused. “The Dragon will be glad to hear of your attempt. He’d finally have an excuse to attack. The last war against the älfar was a long time ago. And I seem to remember your folk did not too well out of it.”

“She is a wanted criminal—” Firûsha retorted, but the woman interrupted her fearlessly.

“Then you would have done better to catch her in Idoslane, not in Weyurn. Get out of here!” She raised her arms slightly. “This is your final warning.”

Behind where the siblings stood the noise of the waves altered, and a man splashed up out of the water. His face was badly grazed and in his hand he held a dagger; he appeared resolute. As resolute as the figure of the woman on the dunes.

“Get away from her!” he commanded them. “Leave Mallenia be, or the maga will burn you to cinders!” He knelt down by the unconscious figure of Mallenia and pulled her away from the dangerous hooves of the grotesque nightmares. One of the animals kicked out at him with a hind leg; he avoided injury by a surprisingly adroit move.

“You are not of the Dragon’s retinue,” Sisaroth said confrontationally. “You wear no dragon-scale pendant at your neck. How is it that you threaten us with Lohasbrand as if you knew him well?”

The woman did not reply—at least not with her voice. Instead, she stretched out her right arm, palm upwards. A brilliant ball shone on her gloved hand and floated slowly toward the älfar, the light growing in intensity the nearer it came.

The nightmares snorted and hissed in fear, recoiling; the bearded young man threw himself over Mallenia to protect her from their hooves. Sisaroth and Firûsha grimaced as the rays hurt their eyes.

“At a word from me the sphere will burst open and blind you forever,” the woman on the dunes told them. “If you can find the way home blind, then do as you wish. If not, I suggest strongly that you leave Weyurn. I shall tell the Dragon that the älfar have violated the agreement. I wonder how he will react.”

Firûsha wanted to pull out her sword, but Sisaroth restrained her. Turning to his agitated nightmare he climbed into the saddle. Then he and his sister rode off east.

The sphere pursued them for a time, as if it were a full moon come down from the heavens. After ten miles or so the ball of light gradually dissolved into glittering dust that fell onto the snow, unnoticeable on the bright crystalline surface.

Immediately, Sisaroth halted the nightmare and Firûsha turned her own mount. The real moon illuminated their furious faces, on which spreading thin black lines were visible. Their tumultuous feelings could not be concealed. They would gladly have transformed their rage into murder, but they stood no chance against a maga. Not in open attack.

Looking over to the island, where numerous lights were burning now, they could make out the shape of the shaft’s iron bulkhead in the middle of the lake.

“That’s where we’ll find what is due to us,” said Sisaroth darkly, glancing at his sister. “Let us bring death to them over the water.”

“I don’t intend to leave without Mallenia,” she agreed. “She is the key to our achieving power in the three kingdoms. I want revenge for Tirîgon!”

Sisaroth noticed a fishing village nearby and turned down the path towards it. “Let us enquire who lives on the Island of the Brave. And then we’ll see if there are humans suitable for a work of art. I feel the need to create something important.”

Firûsha said nothing. But she thought that the tall island would soon be called the Island of the Dead.

VIII

Girdlegard,

Former Queendom of Weyurn,

Lakepride,

Winter, 6491st Solar Cycle

Mallenia opened her eyes to see an awning. It was mainly in orange and red, and had