by D. P. Prior
The first guard was up and charging back at him. He flung Paxy and hit her in the helm, catapulting her back against the wall, and making her drop her remaining sword.
“Keep her pinned,” Nameless said, and Paxy swept back and forth in front of the dwarf, checking her every move.
The other guard scrambled for his legs, but Nameless flipped her to her back, held her arm extended, and trod down on her shoulder joint. He could have broken it, but that was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Are we done?” he asked in his most amiable voice, looking back to find Matriarch Gitashan gone.
Nameless craned his neck, scanning the room. When his eyes came back to the archway by the throne, Gitashan stepped through it, this time brandishing her scimitar.
“Oh, lassie,” Nameless said, releasing the guard’s arm and stepping away, “there’s no need for this.”
“Then return my axe,” Gitashan said.
“Your axe? I think Paxy might have a thing or two to say about that.”
“I am the Matriarch.”
“A matter of gender. I’m hardly qualified for the role. And besides, Paxy’s made her choice, and if I know her, it’s for life.”
“Fine, then, if that’s how you want it.”
Gitashan stalked toward him, a wild and dangerous beast. Her eyes narrowed to burning slits, and her scimitar whooshed through the air in powerful, practiced sweeps.
Nameless whistled, and Paxy zipped back to his hand. The guard she had been containing ran to stand in front of the Matriarch. The other scrabbled to her feet, looked like she was about to grapple Nameless, but when he raised an eyebrow at her, she scooted around him and joined her colleague. Ancient Bub grabbed a knife and fork from the table and moved to protect the Matriarch’s side, eyes hard and glittering.
Gitashan ordered the three of them to stay back, and she strode straight for Nameless.
Before she’d crossed half the space between them, Nameless held up a hand. If he risked fighting her now, it was as good as over for the dwarves of Arnoch. He needed a different approach. He only hoped Paxy understood.
“You are afraid to face me?” Gitashan sneered. “And you call yourself an Immortal?”
It was difficult to answer that without further inciting her, or sounding like a worthless coward. Nameless opted for a smile he hoped was enigmatic, rather than patronizing. Instead of answering Gitashan, he spoke to Paxy.
“Do you trust me, lassie?”
You know that I do. It’s her I don’t trust. She calls herself an Immortal, yet she dresses like a whore.
“Lassie, that’s a bit harsh. It’s probably the best they could manage at such short notice.”
“You are talking to the axe?” Gitashan said. She shot a look at Ancient Bub, who answered like a teacher to his pupil.
“The Annals say the Axe of the Dwarf Lords could communicate mind to mind with her rightful wielder.”
“Pah,” Gitashan said.
“One moment, Matriarch,” Nameless said. “Paxy—the Pax Nanorum—is still talking.”
They are nothing like the Dwarf Lords I recall, Paxy said. They were noble, measured in all they did, and utterly dedicated to duty. From what I’ve seen here, these dwarves are brutal, savages under the whip of that bitch’s tongue.
“But they are descended from the Lords of Arnoch,” Nameless said.
Blood doesn’t bestow honor. These upstarts are not worthy of the title of Lord, and that harlot back at Brink has a greater claim to the Immortal line than this trollop.
“Dame Consilia? The only immortality she can lay claim to is as a theatrical legend, and even then it’s for notoriety.”
“What’s that you’re saying?” Gitashan said. She advanced another step.
“We were discussing an old friend, one that you remind Paxy of. Can’t say I see it, myself, the similarity.” If he’d been feeling more brazen, he might have conceded they had the same pedigree of chest, but even the Dame would have slapped him for that. Gitashan would have probably cut his head off.
“Lassie,” he said to Paxy, keeping his voice down, “this is a hard world, a world of death. We must not judge them too harshly.”
Death of the body doesn’t require the death of dignity, Paxy said.
“We don’t know what has happened here,” Nameless said. “How many centuries of hostility Thanatos has thrown at them.”
“No, you don’t,” Gitashan said. “I may not be able to hear what the axe says to you, but it is easy to guess at from your responses. You dare to disparage us? You who have the blood of the Immortals, but the bearing and manner of a goat-rutting commoner!”
Nameless did his best to look affronted. “There were rumors of my pa and a mining canary, but never a goat.”
Gitashan snorted out a laugh, caught herself, and went back to looking stern.
I take it you want me to go quietly into the case? Paxy said.
“It’s for the best, lassie, until we iron things out.”
They are like predators, seeking only to dominate.
“Thanatos has made them so.”
Without me, you’ll be at their mercy.
“I know, lassie.”
And that slut has a one track mind. She’s only after one thing.
“She is?” Nameless couldn’t help glancing at Gitashan. The Matriarch’s amber eyes were smoldering. Her breasts heaved beneath their scarolite covering. He’d assumed it was the heat of battle, but now he wasn’t so sure.
Gitashan saw him noticing. Her pupils widened, and her tightly clenched lips curled into the hint of a smile.
But I’ll go, if you’re sure.
Of course he wasn’t sure, but what other choice did he have? If there was going to be any chance of winning over the Matriarch, and assembling the Dwarf Lords to come to Arnoch’s aid, he was going to have to give her some ground, just so long as it didn’t involve what Paxy thought she was after. Gitashan might have been a statuesque work of art, a woman of iron and stone who could overwhelm the best intentions of any red-blooded dwarf, but Nameless had a streak of loyalty as uncompromising as even Paxy’s was for him, and his heart had already been given.
“I’m sure, lassie. And when we’re done here, I’ll come for you.”
He took Paxy’s silence for her grudging assent. He held her up for the Matriarch to see, then laid her in the scarolite casket on the table.
I trust you, Paxy said, as if she were trying to reassure herself.
“Don’t worry, lassie,” Nameless whispered. “I’ve resisted more beguiling wenches than her.” He hadn’t, but Paxy didn’t need to know that. “And besides, there’s only one woman for me.”
Thank you.
“Other than you, that is.”
I know. About Cordana.
“And you don’t mind?”
If the choice is between her and this Matriarch, you have my blessing.
Nameless gently shut the lid. It took him a moment to realize there was a big, stupid grin on his face. He quickly wiped it off, in case the Matriarch took it for arrogance or trickery. In reality, it was a smile of relief. He’d not given it serious thought, but deep down, he’d been worried about how Paxy would take to his romantic feelings for another, now that they’d come to light. She’d always been a jealous axe, and in the past she’d made no secret of her dislike of Cordana. Nameless was sure it was nothing personal. It was just, Paxy had been alone a very long time when he’d found her beneath the waves in Arnoch. And she’d told him once that she’d been a dwarf herself in the Supernal Realm, before the Supernal-Father had taken her soul and melded it with steel and gold.
“A wise choice, Immortal,” Gitashan said, laying her scimitar on the table. “But the Axe of the Dwarf Lords needs to be taught its place.”
“She means nothing by it,” Nameless said. “She just prefers a dwarf with balls.”
“Are you impugning my courage?”
“Not at all,” Nameless said. “Just your perfectly n
atural lack of dwarfhood. I’m not joking when I say she’s a woman. I don’t know if it’s rivalry, or she’s just being overprotective, but she always thinks women are only after one thing.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Gitashan said. “And guard your tongue. Ignorance of our ways will carry you so far, but already, my patience runs thin.”
Maybe Paxy had been wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d accused a woman of having designs on Nameless. It wasn’t beyond the bounds of reason she was a little paranoid. Centuries in a watery grave would do that to you.
At a nod from Gitashan, Ancient Bub picked up the casket containing Paxy and carried it through the archway by the throne. The Matriarch visibly relaxed, and when Bub re-emerged, she told him to take the scimitar, too. If he objected to all the toing and froing, he didn’t let on. He merely bowed and did as he was told.
“Let us start afresh,” Gitashan said to Nameless. She gestured him over to the stone bench and settled herself beside him.
Nameless shuffled away an inch, but she casually closed the gap. Her scent was heavy in his nostrils. It recalled his one-time visit to The Panting Peacock. Without the disinhibiting effect of a gallon of mead, Dame Consilia would have never gotten to him. Well, probably not. She was, after all, one shog of a strong woman, with the persuasive powers of a hypnotist.
Women, he had always admired, particularly strong women; and whatever else she might have been, the Matriarch was most definitely strong, if not exactly admirable. Not like Cordana, who had a giant’s share of both. He’d had a thing for the shapeshifting assassin, Ilesa, too, but that was on account of her versatility of form. But women who used their charms to beguile, manipulate, and wrest control from a man by way of his passions… He shuddered. In its way, it was as bad as the power the Lich Lord had over his victims. Worse than that, it was akin to the siren call of the black axe.
Gitashan seemed to pick up on his discomfort and slid apart from him. When Bub reappeared through the archway, she told him to bring the onyx flask he’d set on the table, along with the two silver goblets.
Here it comes, Nameless thought: the Dame Consilia maneuver.
As Bub poured an astringent-smelling clear liquid into each goblet, Gitashan said, “It is a shame dinner was ruined by my guard crashing into it.”
“Aye, lassie. A real shame.”
“Bub, prepare us something else.”
Nameless’s guts churned at the thought of it. “No, really, it’s all right. It was my fault the food was ruined, so I deserve to go without.”
Bub sipped from a goblet, swilled the drink around his mouth, and swallowed. His eyebrows shot up under his hairline and stayed there while he waited for something to happen. Ten seconds must have passed before he shrugged and handed Gitashan the goblet. The other he passed to Nameless.
“Distilled creeper vine,” Gitashan said. “It fizzes through the bloodstream. Or at least, that’s how it feels to me. I find it quite… relaxing.”
Nameless sniffed his, and it brought tears to his eyes. He remembered Thumil confiscating a bottle of Rugbeard’s special moonshine once. That had been potent, but this… He touched his tongue to the liquid and recoiled from the burn. Gitashan was watching him with amusement all over her face. She sipped her drink almost nonchalantly, and Nameless, never one to refuse a challenge, took a glug.
Magma scorched all the way down his throat and ignited his lungs. He sucked in rapid snatches of air to cool them. Like Gitashan had said, his veins fizzed, and his skin prickled. As soon as it had come, the sensation passed, to be replaced with a pleasant warming of some indeterminate region of his body or brain he liked to think of as his “cockles”.
“My, lassie, that’s good stuff,” he said, and he drained his goblet. This time, he shook all over and roared like a baresark.
Gitashan’s eyes widened with shock, but then she nodded and knocked hers back.
Bub refilled them both, and Gitashan dismissed him, but before he left, Nameless said, “A moment, Matriarch. With your permission, I’d like to ask Bub here about balloons.”
A flash of impatience crossed her face, but she waved for him to go on, and took another sip.
“Laddie,” Nameless said.
Bub arched an eyebrow at the impudence of a dwarf a quarter of his age referring to him as laddie.
“It’s a personal fault,” Nameless said. “I call everyone laddie.” He turned to Gitashan. “Except for the ladies, whom I call—”
“Your question for Bubanthus?” the Matriarch said, emphasizing her irritation with a roll of her eyes and another sip of distilled creeper vine.
“I assume your Annals tell the story of Lord Kennick Barg,” Nameless said.
Ancient Bub lit up in an instant. He seemed to straighten up, too, and he moved back toward the bench like a dwarf half his age.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Gitashan got there before him.
“The idiot that got himself killed blowing up a dragon?”
“A brave thing, to give your life to save others,” Nameless said.
“What would be the point,” Gitashan said, “if you didn’t live to see the results of your actions?”
Nameless bit back a retort that he hadn’t really thought through. Before he said anything he’d regret, though, he dismissed Gitashan’s comment with a shrug and asked Bub, “What size of balloon and what kind of gas would be needed to take down a dragon big enough to wrap itself around Arnoch? A five-headed dragon.”
Bub looked to the Matriarch for permission to speak, and she nodded, all the while watching Nameless and stroking her lip with a finger.
“First off,” Bub said, “it was my ancestors that made the balloon Lord Kennick went up in, both vertically and in the explosive sense. It was nothing like the black balloon we have here, which relies solely on hot air. House Balloc still hold the patent for hydrogen-filled rigid balloons, for what it’s worth. Used to call them airships. There’s not much call for patents on Thanatos, and the patent ends with me, in any case. But a dragon big enough to encompass the city of the forebears… How much hydrogen, and how big a balloon? Seems a somewhat speculative question. Or is it a riddle?”
“It’s entirely practical,” Nameless said. “I’m here to tell you, Arnoch is quite real.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know,” Bub said, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “But it’s from a past so distant, most dwarves take it for mere legend. The Annals, though, leave little doubt as to the existence of Arnoch. I suspect, also, that King Arios, the last of the line of kings, was also a real historical figure, and not just the mythical demigod he’s sometimes made out to be.”
“Oh, he’s real enough,” Nameless said. “Make no bones about it.” The joke was for himself. Gitashan and Bub had no way of appreciating that the Arnochian king had been a talking skeleton when Nameless had met him.
Bub frowned, his eyes flicking to Gitashan and back to Nameless. “What is it you’re not telling me, son? I wasn’t born yesterday. I can feel the Immortal blood rushing through your veins like a kick in the fruits, but you’re not one of ours. I built a cairn for the last of our male Immortals myself—Lord Haxon Kly, as broad as he was tall, and a fearsome warrior. He was six-hundred and seventy years old when he made his last stand against a swarm of Thanatosians. Gave the rest of our hunting party time to get to the safety the citadel. When I went back for his body, there were four of the shoggers dead with him. Four!”
“Impressive,” Nameless said, and he wasn’t joking. He’d barely survived the assault of one, and that with the Axe of the Dwarf Lords.
“My point is,” Bub went on, but Gitashan interrupted him.
“I was starting to wonder if you had one.”
Bub smiled sycophantically, gave a little cough, and continued. “My point is, you are not from among us. Given what you’ve just said, logic dictates that you are from Arnoch, yet the Annals are quite clear King Arios sunk the citadel.”
“Arx
Gravis, actually,” Nameless said. “At least, originally. And currently, Brink. But there are dwarves once more in Arnoch. It rose from beneath the sea, and though they are few in number, they have settled well there.”
“Dwarves?” Gitashan said. “What dwarves? The Lords survived on Aethir? The Destroyer didn’t kill them all?”
“Three Lords were sent across the Farfall Mountains,” Nameless said. “They founded my home city of Arx Gravis, but they are no more. Well, except for yours truly. My mother passed on the blood to me. The rest are—”
“Commoners?” Gitashan said with evident distaste. “Common bloods have the run of Arnoch?”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Nameless said. “They are good people, and brave. They are governed by a council of—”
“A council?” Gitashan said. “What is that?”
“A body of wise elders,” Bub explained.
“Not necessarily wise,” Nameless said, “although you’d think it would be a prerequisite. And not always old, either.” He could imagine what Cordana would say to that.
“An elected body, though,” Bub said. “Who govern by majority vote.”
“What nonsense is this?” Gitashan said. “Arnoch needs a king. You can’t rule a people with meetings and votes.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Nameless said. “Especially having seen the Council of Twelve in action. Or rather, inaction.”
“But commoners in charge?” Bub said. “It is unheard of.”
“Unthinkable,” Gitashan agreed. “Why are you not king?” she asked Nameless.
“Oh no. They tried that once before. Even came up with a name for me.”
“And what is this,” Gitashan said, “having no name? I thought, in the Annals, that was the mark of a—”
“Criminal,” Bub finished for her. He flinched, obviously expecting a backlash for his interruption, but the Matriarch seemed not to have noticed.
“I told you it was a long story,” Nameless said.
“Well, now’s your chance to tell it.” Gitashan leaned back on the bench and took a gulp of her drink, then held out the goblet for a refill.
Nameless could only stare into his own distilled creeper vine as he wondered how to play this. If he told them what he’d done, what he was, would they ever be able to trust him? Or would they fear him, like his own people had done, and shove him in a cell, or worse? He decided to tell the truth, the whole truth. If he was going to persuade the Matriarch to send the Dwarf Lords to Arnoch’s aid, they needed to start on the right foot. They were an embattled and suspicious people, and with good reason. It didn’t bear thinking about how they would react if they felt they had been kept in the dark or lied to, not when Nameless would be asking them to lay all they had on the line.
