The Last Thane cw-1

by Douglas Niles

  That illumination slowly faded as the blazing dragon tunneled deeper into the rock. Finally the unnatural cave was quite dark. And then the beast abruptly reappeared, bursting out of the cliff face in a different place and demolishing a couple of Daergar apartments as it emerged. The dragon glided overhead for a moment before soaring over the water again and winging powerfully toward the Life-Tree of the Hylar.

  "How they do that?" Poof Firemaker's tone was admiring. Duck Bigdwarf merely stared, awestruck.

  "Just flies everywhere," Regal observed. "Not only in air. Maybe it's swimmin' in the rock?"

  Of the gathered watchers, only Tarn reacted with deep unease. The Hylar part of his mind reached beyond the spectacle of raw destruction to confront the deep and fundamental questions. How could this happen? And what did it mean for the future?

  He had guesses for both questions, but his hypotheses were even more disturbing than the original queries. Tarn tried to deny the growing evidence, to consider any number of logical causes for this bizarre phenomenon. But as he watched the shifting images of light and darkness on the lake, he knew that only one explanation was possible.

  "Chaos." He muttered the word softly, to himself. "Father was right. Chaos has come to Thorbardin."

  "Poor guys," said Regal, watching as a great shelf of Daerforge's second level gave way, tumbling in a crushing landslide, burying a corner of the waterfront below. Rocks tumbled through the streets and a cloud of dust rose to obscure the panic-stricken dwarves-though it did not mask the shrill screams of the injured and dying.

  The collapse swept away the front wall of several crowded dwellings, and Tarn was startled to see directly inside these structures. He spotted some Daergar clinging to the suddenly created precipice, watched in horror as, one after another, they slipped free to plunge onto the broken rubble below. Snatching a quick look up the slope, he felt a surprising rush of relief as he saw that his mother's house remained intact-at least, on the outside.

  "Awful bad stuff," Poof Firemaker declared, shaking his head sadly as more dark dwarves tumbled into the maelstrom of chaos. Even now, Tarn was amazed that the gully dwarves were expressing sympathy for the dark dwarves who tormented them so relentlessly.

  For a brief time fire glowed amid the wreckage, apparently feeding on the bare stone. But soon the blazes faded and died or were masked by the billowing and still-growing dust cloud. Fewer Daergar were visible now. Those who survived had taken cover deep in the bowels of their dwellings. The thunder that had rumbled through this end of Thorbardin also seemed to be fading, although when Tarn looked across the water he saw the Life-Tree racked by blazing convulsions. He clenched his teeth, furious at himself for his absence from home and utterly frustrated by his inability to get back there. Even if it only meant that he would die beside Belicia and his father, it was suddenly very important from him to be in Hybardin.

  "All done for now," Regal declared, looking at the debris settling in the ruined swath of Daerforge. His expression turned hopeful. "Go get some beer?"

  "Wow," Poof said, his tone strangely subdued. "Real bad happening."

  "All killed? AH?" wondered Duck. He sniffled loudly.

  "Agharhome was badly hit. I'm sorry to say," Tarn felt obliged to observe.

  "Not hit like that!" insisted Poof, pointing at the ruined swath of Daerforge.

  "Don't you sometimes think that the other clans deserve the worst that happens to them?" Tarn wondered, "After all, it seems like you Aghar get treated pretty unfairly anywhere in Thorbardin you try to go."

  Regal Everwise squinted, even rubbing his forehead in the effort of his cogitation.. "What you mean?" he asked, clearly mystified.

  "Well, just…" Tarn tried to organize his thoughts. He knew what it was like to be an outsider, to feel scorned and rejected by fellow dwarves. Yet never in his life had he been subjected to the level of abuse that was any gully dwarf's daily lot. "I would think it would bother you. In the rest of Thorbardin there's plenty to eat and drink, lots of gardens and fresh water. There are laws, even, to protect dwarves from other dwarves who don't like them. Yet we all seem to think nothing of kicking a gully dwarf, or keeping you in your own little slum here."

  "Slum?" Regal bristled. "Agharhome fine excellent city! Got friendlier people even than Life-Tree!"

  Tarn laughed in spite of the rising sense of his own indignation-an emotion inspired on the Aghars' behalf, but apparently not shared by those whom he felt had been wronged.

  "Friendly people… you're right about that," he agreed, ashamed by his own pettiness.

  "Come to our inn. We got some good food there. And beer," Regal promised with an expansive wave of his hand.

  Reluctantly, Tarn followed the small dwarves through the ravines and gullies of their rock-strewn home. This far from the sea it seemed that the Chaos storm had done little damage, though in fact it was kind of hard to tell, given the generally crumbled nature of the gully dwarf city. He could see, though, that the waves had swept some of the lower portions of the place quite cleanly, even washing away some of the large rocks that had jutted so characteristically upward. Plodding along, the half-breed periodically stopped and stared, allowing his mind to once again wrestle with his one overriding problem. How was he going to get home?

  They finally ducked under a low entrance, and after a moment's hesitation, Tarn stooped low and followed the creatures into a dingy and lightless hole. Despite the rank smells of unwashed bodies pressed into too tight of a space, the place was alive with cheerful conversation and even giggling bursts of laughter that erupted into a cacophony of hysterical amusement when Tarn stood up and bumped his head on a stone protruding downward from the ceiling.

  "No beer for you!" one jeered. "You not even stand okay now!"

  "Er, right," Tarn grunted, rubbing the tender spot on his skull. As he saw the dark and bubbling grog that filled the dirty communal mug, he was quite willing to forego the pleasure of a draught. The gully dwarves amiably passed the vessel around the group, chatting with apparent unconcern about food and beer. The half-breed tried to suppress a sense of utter disbelief. Didn't they understand what was happening to their world?

  "Why you sulk?" Regal asked, eventually coming to sit beside the half-breed.

  Tarn chuckled ruefully. "I didn't know I was sulking. The truth is, I was thinking about a problem."

  "What problem? Regal Big-Time-Smart help you fix it!"

  "I wish you could, my friend. I really do. But I've got to get to Hybardin, and I don't see how you can get me there any more than I can get there myself!" Tarn declared bitterly.

  "Hybardin? That long way. Why not stay here? Got friends. Got grog. Here." Regal held out the filthy mug, which still contained a splash of mysterious looking dregs. Tarn politely declined. "Why in a hurry to go?" asked the Aghar again.

  "I've got my father there, and a friend… a lady friend. You saw what happened over there, what's happening to all Thorbardin. I'm certain that they need my help," the half-breed declared urgently.

  "You help to fight?"

  "Yes, probably," Tarn agreed. Abruptly his hand went to his belt, where he usually carried his sword. Naturally, the loop was empty. He hadn't seen the blade since he had been drugged at his mother's house. "Although I have to admit I'm in sore need of a weapon."

  "Here! This cutter too big for me," offered the tiny Duck Bigdwarf.

  "Thanks, friend." Tarn took the proffered short sword, wondering how an Aghar had come to possess such a splendid weapon. Only then did he recognize the gem in the pommel, see the crest of white granite in the hilt, and realize that it was his own blade. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. What was the use?

  Meanwhile, the gully dwarves had put their heads together in a murmured council, during which another mug of grog was passed around and several voices had risen in heated discussion. Just when the vile beverage was beginning to look almost palatable to Tarn, Regal Everwise lifted his head from the group and fixed him with a direc
t glare.

  "Can we go to Hybardin too?" Regal asked bluntly. "We never go there before; wanna go now."

  "I don't think this is the time for sightseeing," Tarn replied, his mind distracted. "And I really think you'd be safer here."

  "Safer?" Duck declared indignantly. "We safe alia places. But how you get to Hybardin, you not have our help?"

  "I don't know," Tarn declared with a rueful laugh. "But just for the sake of argument, how would I get to Hybardin if I did have your help?"

  "Easy," declared Poof Firemaker, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We could fly there, or swim!"

  "Or we could ride that fire dragon. Big fun!" added Duck Bigdwarf.

  "Hmmph!" sniffed Regal. "This big dwarf not looking for fun. He gotta go see his pop and his lady love."

  The other Aghar nodded pensively, clearly understanding this high motive.

  "Thanks anyway," Tarn said. "But I don't think I can fly or swim that far. As for the fire dragon, I'd hate to be the one who had to ask him for a ride."

  "No, no, no. Those stupid plans," declared the ever-wise Regal. "We go to Hybardin, we do it right!"

  "And how do you do that?" Tarn couldn't refrain from asking.

  "Easy. We go to Daerforge and steal a boat."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dark Dwarf Decisions

  "Help me, you fools!" Darkend thrashed in the water, clawing over the sinking bodies of his crew. He cursed his gauntlets as his fingers slipped from the metal hull of the swamped lake boat. Panic rose in his gorge, horror of death by water penetrating to the very core of his being. Feeling the cold liquid soak through his beard, rising to his chin, he shrieked desperately at any Daergar in earshot.

  The thane could see nothing beyond the piercingly bright image of that fiery dragon that had been scarred into his mind. His feet were loosely touching the hull of the boat, but that tenuous support was completely submerged and sinking fast. Frigid waters rose past his face, spilling into his mouth, choking, gagging him. He felt himself sinking deeper and deeper.

  And then the boat was gone from underneath him, and he was surrounded by a suffocating presence. His hands broke the surface momentarily, clawed futilely at the air, and then he was sinking faster into the vast and murderous nothingness of deep water.

  Abruptly a hand reached down to seize him by the wrist, and Darkend found himself being hauled roughly into the hull of another boat. He was tumbled onto the deck with an utter lack of ceremony, and for several minutes he could only cough and gasp at the feet of his rescuers. Shivering, retching, he clung mindlessly to life. Finally he caught his breath and sat up, glaring around him with eyes that had begun to regain some semblance of darksight. Each inhalation was still a horrible, bubbling effort.

  He couldn't stand to face the brightness of Hybardin's docks, so he examined the dark dwarves in the boat with him. The Daergar crew that had rescued him was a veteran lot, many scarred from decades of battle. No doubt each of them had seen and worked considerable mayhem and bloodshed during those years. Yet now they glanced uneasily toward the shore, then looked at Darkend with expressions of pleading, of uneasiness… of fear.

  His anger had settled somewhat, stifling his instincts of rebuke and rage with the realization that he was lucky to be alive. There was no sign of his original boat, nor of the dozens of dwarves who had served as their thane's loyal crew. Somehow the crew of this boat must have seen him go down and acted with desperate haste to grab him and save his life.

  He forced himself to look at the shore, squinting against a much greater illumination than had existed when the attack began. Steam in great clouds wafted across the surface of Hybardin. In places the mist swirled away from the bedrock with a churning force and crimson glow. He sensed the raw heat that lay behind these eruptions. With another curl of moving air he saw that a great slab of the overhanging cliff was aglow with inner warmth.

  "It's lava… melting rock," he breathed in awe.

  "Aye, lord, and much has already flowed away." One of the nearby rowers spoke up, his own voice hushed. "Look there, if you please. Them was the docks where we first landed."

  Darkend saw a smooth slab of stone, sweeping evenly to the edge of the water-an edge that was still bubbling and steaming as the liquid contacted superheated rock.

  "A hundred dwarves was standin' there when the heat came. My thane, I swear by Reorx they were burned into ash as I watched!" declared another rower.

  "What was that… that… flying monster?" asked the thane, addressing the gray-bearded coxswain at the rudder of his boat. "The living fire that came out of the water and took to the air like a dragon?"

  "Never saw the like," declared the fellow. "But it sank a dozen boats in the blink of one eye. Then it touched the rock there-" He pointed at the hot surface of the cliff, which had poured away to reveal a shallow, black-walled cave. "-and just vanished. Like it was diving into water, it just flew into the cliff."

  Another wave surged through the water, rocking the boat and reminding Darkend of the peril of his current position. Gusting winds, a strange and unnatural phenomenon in Thorbardin, whipped the water around him into spray. He saw some boats that had capsized and others that were half-swamped. And even with a quick count he guessed that at least a score of his vessels had already plunged to the bottom of the underground sea.

  "You, there-and you!" He stood tall in the hull and pointed to two boats that still had full complements of warriors and were captained by seasoned leaders. "Get to shore and pass the word. I want the docks held! There is to be no retreat!"

  "Aye, Lord Thane!" chorused the pair of warriors, immediately urging their men to press oars.

  Before they got very far, however, the loudest explosion Darkend had ever heard rocked through Thorbardin. A great section at the bottom of the Life-Tree gave way. Massive slabs of rock tumbled downward and smashed across the waterfront and plaza. A cloud of dust swept outward, thick and choking, followed quickly by a surging wave raised by the debris that crashed into the water. Echoes rocked the air, mingled with the screams of crushed, dying dwarves and the exultant braying of the fire dragons that still circled and dove through the fringes of destruction.

  The thane couldn't see the base of the city, but he was certain that hundreds, maybe thousands, of dwarves on both sides had been crushed to death in the collapse. Dark dwarves and Hylar had been locked in battle directly under the massive rockfall, but all sounds of combat had been overwhelmed by the thunder of crashing stone.

  As the dust slowly settled, the watchers on the sea saw that the landscape of Hybardin's waterfront had been drastically changed. What had once been a region of warehouses and docks was now buried under mounds of rubble that jutted like hills and mountains across a landscape of utter destruction. Here and there antlike dwarves scrambled across the wreckage, but these seemed dazed and hesitant, no longer vigorous warriors in the midst of a campaign.

  "Get me back to Daerforge immediately." Darkend didn't recognize his own voice as he directed orders at the coxswain of his own boat. His face was pale with shock and uncertainty.

  "As you command, lord." The dwarf immediately set his crew to rowing. If any of them wondered about the propriety of their leader deserting his army on the crumbling shore of Hybardin, they were smart enough to keep such thoughts to themselves. A temporary retreat made sense to everybody.

  The sea was smoother once they pulled away from the Life-Tree, though high waves rolled past at measured intervals. Such waves were heretofore virtually unknown on the Urkhan Sea, and their surging rhythm added to the growing sense of fear. Fortunately, the crew was skilled and seasoned enough to keep their bearings, and very little water spilled over the gunwales as the boat pitched and churned across the surface. The rowers drove hard, but it was a long voyage, made eerily longer by the group's silence and the flashes of light that regularly pierced the comforting darkness.

  At last they neared Daerforge, and the thane saw with dismay that parts of his own realm h
ad suffered destruction, though not on the scale that had struck Hybardin. There were no longer any signs of the creatures who had caused the damage, and repairs were already under way here and there. As they drew closer he looked up at the cliff, saw that the twin towers of his sister's manor still stood watch, and wondered about his own palace. Had the creatures struck Daerbardin too or just the cities on the lake? He would have to wait to find out.

  As the thane peered at a small section of waterfront buildings, he realized that they had been knocked down by forces of amazing strength and violence. Walls had been flattened and iron beams twisted into knots. He shivered, strangely exhilarated by evidence of such overwhelming power. Who, or what, had invaded Thorbardin?

  He would have to confer with others and ponder his next move before regrouping and returning to Hybardin. In the meantime it was important that he show no signs of indecision or weakness. He was still the thane of the Daegar, after all, and still determined to conquer the city of the Hylar.

  Regaining his composure, Darkend accepted no help as they pulled ashore at the wharf. Instead he scrambled ahead and began to issuing orders.

  "Get back to the Hylarhome. See that our positions are held and the attack pressed while I collect further reinforcements!"

  "Aye, lord," the coxswain assented, but he couldn't help but looking disappointed at his orders. He cast off in haste with a longing look at the shore of his homeland. The other dark dwarf faces were likewise forlorn.

  Once on the dock, Darkend had to wait only a short time before a shadowy figure in a black robe emerged from a pile of rubble and debris. At first Darkend tensed, not recognizing the newcomer and was suddenly aware that he was without his usual phalanx of guards.

  "You should take better care of yourself, my lord." Slickblade's voice was an unmistakable hiss, though Darkend could not recognize the face of the speaker within the deep-hooded robe. "There are known ruffians about."