The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,82

our homeland among themselves for cycles now, but they’ll attack each other at the drop of a hat just because the great Tungdil Goldhand turns up and asks them to?” He got up, looking furious. “My mother was right. You won’t change anything. It’s like being in a battle waiting for the veteran fighters to arrive, only for a feeble old man to turn up instead.”

Hardly had he said that last word when he was hit so hard on the back that he fell forward onto the table. A shadow had grabbed him by the nape of the neck and was rubbing his face against the rune that stood for the realm of the fifthlings.

Ireheart blinked and then saw it was his friend. How did he manage to move so quickly?

“Balyndar Steelfinger! You may have inherited much from your mother, but not her iron will,” said Tungdil angrily. “Take a look at the symbol for your tribe!” He increased the pressure. Balyndar tried to resist and turned to grab his attacker, but he could not. “Look at it, I said,” shouted Tungdil. “The name Balyndis will be the last name of a sovereign in a whole line of queens and kings if we all follow your way of thinking. There’ll be no one at all who can read about the exploits of the dwarves.” He let Balyndar go and went back to his own seat.

Balyndar pushed himself upright and stared at the one-eyed dwarf in fury. On his right cheek and on his temple the rune had left an imprint that was gradually fading. “You dare to…”

“I dare, yes, I do dare!” Tungdil’s voice drowned out the words of the younger dwarf. “I dare to tell you and the others what must be done. It is simple; all it takes is skill, courage and sharp blades. But not an army. Not at first.” He pointed north. “Steal the kordrion’s young and take them to Lot-Ionan. The beast will follow, looking for its offspring. You have to be ready with a small force to overthrow the victor. And the victor will definitely be Lot-Ionan. You need the magus to put a stop to what is being prepared in the Black Abyss.”

Frandibar folded his arms. “What if the kordrion defeats the long-un? Then, according to you, we’d be helpless.”

“He won’t. A kordrion can’t defend itself against magic. It might be able to destroy the wizard’s famuli but it will be powerless faced with Lot-Ionan himself.” Tungdil’s fingers ran along the line of the Red Mountains on the map on the central table. “After that you take the best treasures from the Dragon’s hoard and plant them on the älfar. Lohasbrand will set his humans and his orcs on the älfar in Dsôn Balsur, and because they won’t be able to overrun the black-eyes on their own, he’ll have to get over there himself.” Tungdil’s gaze swept over the assembled dwarves. “Again it will be the task of the children of the Smith to watch and wait. And then to attack the victor, who will be weakened by then, of course, from the battle. You should manage that. And there you are: Girdlegard is free of all tribulation.”

“He’s gone mad,” came the voice of one of the clan leaders. “What kind of expedition would be able to do all that?”

“So do you not have any fresh heroes? Was it just a cheap excuse—let’s do nothing at all until Tungdil comes back?” Tungdil whirled round. “I can see some strong arms and watchful eyes here in this room. Take Balyndar with you. He’s an obvious choice.” He pointed at Ireheart. “Don’t forget my old comrade. He and his crow’s beak will sort out enemy skulls and armor, no problem. Get yourself a skillful cross-bowman and send a handful of brave hearts along with them. When you’ve found them, offer prayers to your god, and send them on their way.”

“And you won’t be with them?” The king of the fourthlings was aghast.

“No.” Tungdil sat down heavily in his chair. “After over two hundred cycles of constant war, battle and combat, enough is enough. I shall find myself a nice little place and shall watch from the sidelines as you eliminate evil. It’s enough for me to know that I have given you the plan.”

Balyndar had swallowed his anger and looked extremely disappointed. “So this is the great hero, whose deeds are so far out of our league. He looks like one of Tion’s warriors and