by William King
“We call ourselves that because we kept the faith,” said Verlek.
“When others did not?” Karnea asked.
Verlek nodded.
“Other dwarves?” Karnea prompted.
“Yes,” said Verlek. He was looking away. His beard writhed now as well. Did that signify embarrassment, Kormak wondered.
“Others broke their oaths,” said Utti suddenly. There was a boastful tone in his voice. “We did not.”
“Do you refer to the ones who forged my sword?” Kormak asked.
“They made that which it was forbidden to make,” said Utti. “They marked their blades with the runes of Chaos and Death. They made that which was forbidden by our mistress, by all of the Eldrim.”
“Not all,” said Verlek. Utti glared at him. His beard went rigid and stopped moving altogether.
“Stare all you like,” said Verlek. “But you know I have truth. The Exiles did what they did at the behest of Eldrim.”
“So they claimed,” said Utti. He sounded as if he did not believe that was the case. Karnea chewed her lips as they talked. She desperately wanted them to keep talking so much was obvious. She did not dare interrupt them even to ask a question. “These are not matters to be spoken on before outsiders.”
Verlek shrugged. “I have questions of my own to put to you, if you would answer them.”
Karnea nodded eagerly. Utti felt compelled to say, “If you do not answer them willingly, you will answer them later with your hand in the furnace.”
“I will answer any questions you have truthfully and honestly unless they go against oaths I have spoken,” said Karnea. “And if they do, I will tell you.”
“Fairly spoken,” Verlek said. Utti merely grunted. “Where do you come from?”
“We come from the surface,” said Karnea. “From beyond the City in the Deeps.”
“You dwell among the monsters and Shadow worshippers?”
“We dwell among men.”
“So you serve those who opposed the Eldrim.”
“We serve the Holy Sun,” Karnea said. “We oppose the Old Ones only when they break the Law.”
“Who makes a Law that binds the Eldrim?” Utti sneered.
“The Old Ones did,” said Kormak. “They agreed to it with our masters and the kings of men. It has kept peace between us for a thousand years.”
“You lie,” said Utti. “The Eldrim would not negotiate with their inferiors.”
“They are intelligent,” said Kormak. “They will negotiate with anyone who has the power to destroy them.”
“And you claim you do?”
“You already know the answer to that,” said Kormak. “You have seen the sword. You know what it does. There are hundreds more like it.”
“An obscenity,” said Utti.
“Why do you say that?” Karnea asked.
Utti did not answer. Karnea continued patiently as if Utti had not interrupted her. She seemed to take real pleasure in explaining things. “We come from the surface. We guess you have not had much contact with it since the city was sealed.”
“We have all we need here,” said Verlek. “And we have our duty to perform. We would not desert our post. We keep the faith.” Again he said this as if he were talking about matters of the utmost importance. What could have kept the dwarves here in a city wracked by plague and all but abandoned?
“Things have changed since the days of glory though,” said Karnea. “Your people have changed.”
Verlek made the dwarven equivalent of a nod, a little sadly, it seemed. “Much has been forgotten. Much has been lost. The people are slowly dying.”
Utti glared at him once more. “You talk too much.”
“I speak only truth.”
“It has gotten much worse since Graghur returned, has it not?” Kormak asked. He was guessing but he thought he would throw that out just to see what kind of response it got.
Verlek nodded. “That is so. He is powerful and he is wicked and he seeks to destroy that which we protect.”
“He is an Old One,” said Kormak. He looked at Utti. “Do you revere him?”
Utti looked away. He made a peculiar grimace that Kormak could not interpret. Verlek spoke. He was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of opposing an Old One.
“He has his own shrine,” Verlek said. “You have seen his statue in the Underhalls.”
Utti rose and gestured to Verlek. “We are done talking.”
Verlek looked as if he wanted to defy Utti but he did not. Utti placed his hand on the door and drummed his fingers in a delicate pattern. With a creaking noise, the doorway rose again and the dwarves left.
Karnea stared at Kormak. “There is much that is strange here.”
“What were they saying?” Boreas asked. Karnea explained the gist of it to them, while Kormak studied the door. He wondered whether it had opened in response to the pattern Utti had tapped or whether that had been merely a signal for those outside to open it.
“You are saying that they revere the Old Ones. They think Kormak’s weapon is a blasphemy and yet they are forced to fight against Graghur.”
“It is a fight they cannot win, if they do not use the right weapon,” said Kormak.
“Let’s hope they know that too,” said Boreas.
The storehouse clearly had not been intended to hold living things. The air was close and stale and Kormak found himself wondering if they would suffocate if they remained trapped here too long. They lay on the flagstones and tried to sleep. There was little else for them to do save talk in subdued tones and that had swiftly become depressing.
Kormak stared at the ceiling and tried to plan a method of escape. They could try and overpower the guards when next the cell was opened, but even if they succeeded what then? They were still within the dwarf fortress and surrounded by an undetermined number of the Khazduri. Should they manage to escape, they needed to retrace their steps through the vast goblin haunted maze of the City in the Deeps. And they still would not have found what they came for.
They needed to convince the dwarves not to kill them, and to help them. It was not going to be easy since in the eyes of the dwarves they were heretics and blasphemers. He thought about that. It went against all the things he had been taught about the dwarves since he was a boy. They had rebelled against the Old Ones, just like many of the other Servitor Races. They hated their former masters with a passion. That was why they had created the runeswords for the Order. They were allies of men. Yet the dwarves they had found here did not fit that pattern. They still revered the Old Ones even though one of their ancient masters seemed hell-bent on destroying them.
He pushed all of these thoughts to one side. None of them were helping and none of them made the slightest difference. He needed to find out more. He needed to get out of this prison. He needed to get his sword back. He felt almost naked without it and he experienced a deep sense of shame when he remembered how he had surrendered it. He knew he was going to have to do something to expunge that.
Eventually, sleep came.
The door slid open with a grinding creak. Verlek, Utti and a number of other heavily armed dwarf warriors were there. Only Verlek looked remotely friendly and even his beard twisted agitatedly.
“You are to come with us, strangers,” said Utti. In Dwarvish, Kormak remembered the word stranger and enemy were synonymous. It seemed somehow appropriate. “The Dwarfmoot will judge you before the Wall of Skulls.”
There was a formal note to his speech that masked his dislike, but Kormak sensed some satisfaction in Utti’s manner that made him suspect that things were not going to go well for the humans.
The others picked themselves up. All of them looked dirty and dishevelled. It was clear they had not slept well. Utti gestured towards the door. The humans slowly made their way into the corridor. The dwarves fell into position in front and behind them and they marched back through the Hold.
This time their route took them much further and they emerged into a massive
hall. A fire blazed before them, the first Kormak could recall seeing in Khazduroth. It emerged from a huge pit in the floor and it was not fuelled by coal or wood. He guessed it was volcanic in origin or perhaps fuelled by gas. Around the flame rose three stone rings, each higher than the next, they formed broad steps leading up to the flame.
By the light of the dancing flames he could see how the Wall of Skulls got its name. The hall was hundreds of strides long. Skulls were piled on top of skulls all the way to the ceiling on every wall. There were thousands of them. He could tell by the position of the scaffolding that behind the first layer of skulls were others. It seemed as if a new wall was being built in front of the old one. He could imagine dozens of layers of skulls running back all the way to the stone walls. Even as he watched, a dwarf on the scaffolding was mortaring more goblin skulls into place.
“The skulls belong to our enemies,” said Verlek. Kormak was going to say that he had guessed that but he kept his mouth shut. The young dwarf was the closest thing they had to an ally here and he did not want to alienate him.
“There must be thousands of them,” said Karnea.
“Tens of thousands,” said Verlek proudly, “dating all the way back to Time of Dying. We have killed many foes. Graghur claims to be the Taker of Skulls but we have done far better. We have beaten his people at their own game.” To Kormak it seemed like the dwarves had simply turned themselves into mirrors of their enemy. They had lost themselves in the war and that was a form of defeat.
Around a hundred dwarves were gathered around the fire. All heads turned as the group entered. Beards on the males and hair on the females writhed furiously at the sight of the newcomers. Ferik stood on a stepped dais beside the flame. Above him on an even higher step, stood two more dwarves, one male, one female whom Kormak assumed were the clan leaders.
“All the clan has assembled,” said Verlek. Kormak felt a shock. The Hold they had marched through looked as if it had been built for thousands. All those present looked as if they could fit into one or two of its smaller rooms. It came to him then that if this was every member of the clan, then the dwarves of Khazduroth truly were a dying people.
“And now your fate will be sealed,” said Utti. There was malice in his voice.
The clan parted to allow the prisoners to be brought before the flame. Kormak found himself looking up at the dwarves on the steps. He noticed that Ferik had a silver chain around his neck marked with ancient dwarf runes. The two he thought of as chieftains wore gold torcs and necklaces marked with runes of mastery. He recognised those. The heat from the flames was making him sweat but the dwarves gave no sign of discomfort.
Ferik raised one massive hand. “Strangers, you have been brought before the assembled people of the Hold to be judged according to the ancient laws of our people. You are interlopers here. You have trespassed on sacred ground. The penalty for your transgressions is death.”
Chapter Twenty
“ARE THERE ANY here who would speak for these strangers,” Ferik asked.
Verlek stepped forward. “I would.”
“Then stand before the flame and speak.” Verlek strode up to the steps and took a position just below Ferik on the lowest step. He turned to face the clan, touched his beard, placed a hand over his heart and bowed.
“I owe these strangers blood-debt,” Verlek said. He sounded apologetic about that. “They saved me from the Slitherer and Yellow Eye, leaving both for dead.”
That was a nice, hair-splitting touch, Kormak thought. Anyone who had not been there might have taken that as meaning that Kormak and his companions had killed both monsters. “They warded me through the Underhalls, protecting me to the very gates of the Hold even though the goblins were at their heels. It would be a betrayal of their trust to put them to the stranger-death. They have done nothing but good for me, and our people.”
Utti made a hissing sound. Verlek continued, his voice gathering strength as he spoke. “They stood with us when the goblins were at our gate. The one known as Kormak gave us more than twenty skulls for the Wall.”
Ferik placed a hand upon his shoulder. “The skulls have not been placed there. They may never be.”
Verlek turned and looked up at him. His beard twisted agitatedly. His pointed ears stood erect. Kormak was reminded of an angry cat. “Are the goblins no longer our enemies?”
“If a goblin kills a goblin do we place the dead one’s skull in the Wall?” This came from the female dwarf on the highest stone ring. “Only one of the People may place a skull in the wall, for the glory of his ancestors.”
“Branhilde the Beautiful speaks truth,” said the older male. He glared down at them. His face was stern and looked as if it had been carved from rock. His beard was very white and still. It was quite the longest in the room, reaching all the way to the floor. “Anything else would be in violation of our ancient customs.”
“As you say, Guttri. I bow before your wisdom,” said Verlek. Suiting action to words he did so. A ripple of laughter, not mocking, quite sympathetic, passed through the assembled crowd. There was a touch of formality and respect to Verlek’s action that had pleased the crowd. Kormak sensed a slight relaxation in the tension although he could not tell whether that was caused by Verlek’s action or by Guttri putting the young dwarf in his place.
Verlek turned back to face the crowd. “These people could be our allies,” he said. “They are mighty warriors and they possess great knowledge of the outside world.”
“What need have we of such knowledge,” shouted Utti. “We dwell in the City in the Deeps. Everything beyond her gates is a waste full of demons and Shadow worshippers and enemies. So it has been since the Time of Dying when the city was sealed.”
“Utti,” said Ferik, holding his hand up in what might have been a warning gesture.
“Not so. They have spoken with our kin.”
“Lies!” shouted Utti.
“Utti, you will have your chance to speak, if you so desire,” said Ferik. “Now Verlek holds the third step. Now it is his turn to speak.”
Utti’s ears lost some of their outraged rigour, his beard drooped. “I will hold my peace.”
“Good,” said Ferik. “Now Verlek, pray continue.”
“They claim to have spoken with our kin,” said Verlek, speaking slowly and as if he wanted to state everything with complete accuracy. “At very least the truth of these claims must be weighed and tested before there can be any talk of killing these strangers. And I would say should their claims prove to be true, we would do well to listen and aid them as they might aid us against our enemies.”
With that, Verlek stepped down from the stone ring and stepped back into the crowd. Kormak saw one or two of the dwarves reach out and slap him affectionately on the back.
“Now is your chance to speak Utti,” said Ferik. “If you still desire to.”
Utti walked slowly forward, head downcast, clearly considering his words. The flames danced. Thousands of empty eye-sockets stared down menacingly. It seemed as if legions of the dead watched in judgement. Utti stood looking into the flames for a while, back towards the audience, letting curiosity and tension build. After long heartbeats, he bowed to the others on the steps, and turned to the crowd.
“These strangers came here—we do not know why. They claim to come from the surface world—we do not know where. They appear to have helped Verlek—we do not know their reasons.” He spoke slowly and in a considered manner. His voice was deep and resonant, and compared to him Verlek had sounded like a child.
“If they were spies, they could not have found a better way of infiltrating our hold, taking advantage of the naive and trusting nature of a young dwarf who does not know any better.” The crowd murmured. He raised a hand and said, “I am not saying that is what happened. Let us be fair. I am merely suggesting an explanation of events.”
Kormak wondered what trap Utti was about to spring. He felt certain he was going to. He would not have abandoned his obvious but effective
line of attack otherwise.
“We live in dark times. Khazduroth is fallen almost to ruin. The old seals have been broken. Shadow worshippers have come here to plunder its treasures. Graghur and his spawn assail us. Our numbers grow too few to protect our sacred trust. Verlek holds out the possibility of alliance with these oh so convenient strangers. He forgets the long history of betrayals and treachery that our people have suffered. He is young. He is impressed by tales that these strangers have spoken with our lost kindred.
“Perhaps he forgets why those kindred were lost to us. Perhaps he forgets the ancient betrayal of our people, the bitter, fratricidal war that sprang up between our kin. Perhaps to him these are only old stories. Perhaps he no longer has faith in our chronicles.”
“That is not so!” Verlek shouted. Utti turned and looked ironically at Ferik. Ferik said, “You have had your turn to speak Verlek. Now it is Utti’s.”
Utti smiled. Now the knife was going to go in, Kormak thought. The smile widened slowly. Utti looked at the floor again, as if considering his words. All was silent except for the hissing of the dancing flames. All around, every dwarf strained to hear what Utti was going to say.
“I must apologise to Verlek. I spoke without due thought earlier. I sounded as if I was trying to cast doubt on the claims he has made on these strangers behalf. I did not mean to. I believe some of them to be true. It is certainly possible that they have spoken to our treacherous kin. Why do I say this?”
Again he paused. Kormak found that even he was leaning forward, waiting to hear what the dwarf was going to say. Utti raised his hand, palm outwards and then brought it down in a sweeping gesture. His outstretched finger pointed directly at Kormak. “I say it because they came here—here!—bearing one of the forbidden weapons. They have carried an abomination here—here!—onto our sacred ground, into the most holy place of the People of Stone.”
