“What was it, Talon?” Ewzad asked.
“The childss-.”
“Childs!” Ewzad ignored the despair in Elise’s eyes and focused his magic on her womb. Talon was right. She had sensed them. Children! Two heartbeats. Two perfect little forms. His own children. Ewzad embraced Elise. “Babies, dearest! Yes-yes! Twins!”
“Twins . . .” Elise said, her voice blank. She grew pale. “Two heirs?”
“No-no. Do you see what that means?” Ewzad laughed, the kind of deep throaty laugh he hadn’t laughed in years. “The Dark Voice wants an heir, but that leaves us one. One child is ours alone, Elise!”
“One is ours?” she said, and a hopeful smile spread across her lips.
“Yes!” Ewzad beamed at her. “They are only a few months old. By the time they are born, the academy will be defeated and the Mage School destroyed. We will rule Dremald and conquer the known lands with our child at our side!”
Mellinda chuckled. “Congratulations, Master. The Dark Voice will be pleased.”
Ewzad laughed again. “Yes! I think it is time for a celebration! I am finished waiting. Prepare the troops and bring me your sacrifices. My creations are ready. It is time we end this siege, don’t you think, Mellinda?”
“Yes, Master,” The mother of the moonrats didn’t bother to rebuke him this time. Finally the waiting was over.
Chapter Twenty Five
“Lenui, I can’t agree to these terms without the support of the whole council and I know there would be resistance,” Faldon said, looking miserable.
“Listen here, Faldon!” Lenny said pounding a fist on the stack of papers in front of him. “Yer wantin’ our help now, ain’t you? Well yer the only one here, confound-it! And we ain’t gonna accept a promise that you’ll ‘talk it over after the battle’ as a dag-gum answer.”
Justan looked around the room at the crowd of dwarves bobbing their heads in agreement. He felt bad for his father. Negotiation had never been Faldon’s strong point.
They had been surprised to find that the dwarves of Wobble weren’t alone. Since Ewzad Vriil’s rise to power, the caves had been inundated with a steady stream of dwarf refugees from all over the kingdom. Instead of the fifty or so dwarves they were expecting, there were seven hundred and they had been joined by nearly a hundred human refugees from Pinewood that had made it to Wobble after their town had been overrun by moonrats.
At first, the dwarves had been angry that thousands more outsiders had been brought to their hiding place, but Lenny had somehow convinced them that this was a business opportunity.
“I still can’t believe it,” Justan said to Pall, who was standing right beside him. “Just yesterday the other dwarves were angry with Lenny for letting us in. Now he’s in charge.”
“Lemme tell you somethin’, Edge,” said Pall. “If there ever was a king among dwarves, it’d be Lenui Firegobbler and everybody here knows it. He’s more dwarf than any of the rest of us. Strong, shrewd. He’s a hard worker and he can booze better and cook better and curse better and build a better blasted weapon than any other dwarf I know.”
“Well, he definitely has my father outmatched,” Justan said.
“Lenui’s a businessman. Makin’ contracts comes as easy to him as rippin’ a fart and that’s the honest truth,” said Rahbbie.
The crux of the situation was that the academy needed what the dwarves had. Hidden in the back of the caverns were vast stockpiles of weapons and food that the people of Wobble had been storing away for decades in preparation for just this sort of situation. In addition, they needed the extra troops. There were over five hundred dwarves here with battle experience and an army of armored dwarves that large would be a huge advantage against ground forces on the battlefield.
Justan looked at Jhonate, who was standing on the far side of the room with the other academy students, and gave her an apologetic shrug. She gave him a grim nod in return. His father really had no choice but to comply with the dwarves’ terms. In truth, it was probably for the best.
Their terms were simple. In exchange for the use of their stockpiles and their help in the battles ahead, they wanted a long-term exclusive contract to provide weapons and armor to the Battle Academy. It was something Wobble had tried to negotiate with the academy for years and their lack of success was the main reason Stangrove Leatherbend’s vision for the city had failed.
Faldon understood the reasons why as well as anyone. “Lenui, if the Battle Academy were to accept these terms, we would have a difficult time keeping our regular contracts. Many of them pay us partially in weapons. If that option was taken away, some of them may not be able to afford us. We could lose the contracts to other battle schools.”
“C’mon, Faldon. They pay you in apprentice work and gall-durn castoffs and you know it. Any contracts you lose would just mean you end up with a smaller junk heap,” Lenny said and the crowd laughed.
It was a long running joke that the academy threw away more weapons than they kept. In truth, much of Forgemaster Stanley’s job consisted of reforging and repurposing the inferior work pawned off on the academy. It was a constant complaint of his.
Lenny continued, “If you had Wobble-built weapons and armor on every soldier, and magic weapons fer each of yer commanders, you’d be worth lots more to any kingdom that wanted to hire you. I’m tellin’ you, yer contracts would go up.”
Justan found himself agreeing. Their clientele would adapt. Instead of weapons, the clients without the gold to pay would come up with different kinds of goods to pay with. Perhaps things that the academy could really use.
“You make some valid points, Lenui, but how is Wobble supposed to provide for the academy’s needs?” he asked. “You have fifty townspeople and not even all of them are weaponmakers.”
“I got signatures from four hunnerd dwarves that plan to stay in Wobble after the war if’n the academy signs the contract,” Lenny said. “Dag-nab it, once word spreads, we’ll have hunnerds more! Folks’ll be proud to say they make weapons fer the finest warriors in the known lands. We’ll make Wobble the place it was intended to be!”
“Even with those assurances-,” Faldon began.
“And, I got somethin’ to sweeten the deal,” Lenny interrupted. He motioned to Rahbbie, who gave a quick nod and ran over to hand him a long leather-wrapped bundle.
Lenny sat it carefully down on the table beside the stack of papers and unrolled it, inside were a dozen arrows, each one with its own individual sleeve. He slid one out and showed Faldon the tip. It was in the shape of a half moon and looked dull and pitted.
“What is it?” Faldon asked, giving it a dubious stare.
“It’s an explodin’ arrow,” Lenui said proudly.
“Exploding?” Faldon said and Justan’s interest was piqued.
“That’s dag-gum right.” The dwarf grinned. “Shoot one of these and whatever they hit gets blown to bits’n pieces!”
“How does it work?” Faldon asked.
“My stupid brother Chugk came up with the recipe,” Lenny said, “I ain’t tellin’ the secrets of how they’re made, but I’ll tell you they’re made from the metal what’s leftover when a magic weapon’s forged. We call it ‘dirty metal’ and it’s charged with whatever element was in the ore. Usually the stuff loses its magic when it cools, makin’ it useless, but Chugk found a way to get it to keep its charge. Problem is, it’s unstable. If you break a piece, things get dag-burned nasty. That’s when he came up with the idear of makin’ arrows with it.”
“Show us how one works, Lenny!” shouted Zambon from the back of the cave.
“And where’re we gonna shoot it, confound-it? Can’t shoot it in the caves or out in the crevasse. ‘Cides, they’re too dag-gum rare fer target practice.” Lenny pounded the stack of papers again. “But I tell you they work! I seen it with my own eyes years ago; the first time Chugk made one. My ears rang fer hours.”
“All this sounds impressive, Lenui,” said Faldon. “But how many do you have?”
>
“Just over eight hunnerd,” he said. “Any time over the last ten years that any dwarf in Wobble made somethin’ magic, Chugk’s been makin’ arrowheads with the leftovers. While we’ve been runnin’ around tryin’ to gather fighters, the folks of Wobble have been sittin’ in these caves busy puttin’ ‘em on arrows.”
“That is a substantial number if they are as powerful as you say.” Faldon ran a hand through his hair, glaring down at the contract in front of him.
Justan was thinking about the exploding arrows. The one Lenny was holding glowed an intense yellow to his mage sight. An explosion caused by air magic was a fascinating concept in and of itself. But what kind of effect would they have when shot by his dragon hair string?
Faldon sighed, knowing how badly this would be received by the rest of the council members, but he finally nodded. “It seems I have no choice, Lenui. But there are still many details to be worked out.”
“We’cn work that out when the academy’s freed. But there is one more thing,” Lenny slid another sheet of parchment on top of the pile. “Since we’ll be yer sole supplier, and since you’ll be our sole client, we’ll be dependant on yer treatin’ us fair. That means we’ll need a seat on yer council.”
Faldon’s jaw dropped. “I-I can’t. This is asking too much.”
Justan there may be trouble, Deathclaw sent.
No kidding, Justan replied, shocked by Lenny’s request. He could understand why the dwarves would want a presence on the council. But one of the biggest regrets in academy history was allowing Dremald to have a seat. They didn’t even allow the Mage School on the council anymore and the wizards had requested one multiple times.
Not there. Out in the town of the short dwarves, Deathclaw said.
What is it? At Justan’s request, the raptoid had gone to make sure that there were no enemy troops in Wobble. The dwarves had left the village as soon as the siege began and they didn’t even have scouts posted there. This was an oversight that Lenny had raged about as soon as he heard.
There are people approaching, Deathclaw replied. Four of them. And one is very big.
Justan frowned. Show me. Deathclaw had kept his distance, so he could not make out the figures’ faces, but what he saw was enough to cause Justan concern. I’m coming. He asked Fist and Gwyrtha to meet him, then made his way towards the back of the crowd. He felt a little guilty for leaving while his father was in such a difficult position, but in all truth, there was nothing he could do to help. This situation was far more urgent.
Jhonate saw him leaving and followed him out of the crowd. She caught up to him as he reached the cave mouth and grasped his hand. “What is it, Justan?”
“Deathclaw sees a group approaching and I think one of them is a rock giant,” Justan said. “I’m going to check them out.”
“I will accompany you,” Jhonate said firmly and Justan smiled.
The last two days had been wonderful. Jhonate wanted their relationship to be discreet so their time together had been limited somewhat, but in a way, that had made their brief moments holding hands or embracing that much sweeter. Knowing that Jhonate returned his feelings had been an enormous weight off his shoulders. The only bad thing had been breaking the news to Vannya.
When he told the mage that Qyxal had died, she had been very distraught. Justan had held her briefly, but when her needs had become more intense, he had been forced to back away and tell her that he was courting Jhonate. Vannya didn’t take the news well. The mage had disappeared into her tent and he had not seen her since. That had left Wizard Locksher with the responsibility of comforting her, something the wizard seemed ill-equipped to handle.
Fist and Gwyrtha were waiting just outside. As soon as Justan came into view, the ogre asked, “Do you think it’s Charz?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen any other rock giants, but this one seems to be about the right height. If it’s him, that means he has made amends with his bonding wizard,” Justan said. “Perhaps that’s who he’s traveling with.”
“I hope so,” Fist replied. “I do not wish to fight him again.”
“If it’s Charz you shouldn’t have to. If it is another rock giant . . . well, you have your mace now,” Justan said.
“What are you speaking about?” Jhonate asked.
“I’ll tell you on the way.” Justan closed his eyes and dove through the bond to Gwyrtha. She was quite excited when he asked if he could increase her size again. The changes came much easier to him now and she was soon twice her usual size once more.
I’m big! she said, prancing about happily.
“I’ll get going,” Fist said with a sigh. He grasped his mace and ran down the chasm, getting a head start.
Justan sent the ogre some extra energy and turned to Jhonate. “Would you like to ride with me?”
She was staring at Gwyrtha with wide eyes. “How . . . did . . . you?”
“Oh, right. You didn’t know we could do that. I’ll explain later. Come on.” Gwyrtha squatted down so that Justan could climb into the saddle.
He pulled Jhonate up behind him. She laid her staff between them and wrapped both arms around his waist. “I must admit this is frightening.”
“Wait until we get going,” Justan said and grasped two handfuls of Gwyrtha’s mane.
Gwyrtha leapt off at a run and Jhonate let out an uncharacteristic yelp. She buried her face against his back and her arms tightened until Justan found it hard to breathe. Can you slow down just a bit, sweetie? He asked. I don’t want Jhonate to be afraid to ride you.
He could feel the rogue horse huff out a chuckle beneath him, but she backed off just a bit. The ride smoothed out and Jhonate’s grip loosened. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She lifted her head and cleared her throat, “I am fine. Tell me about this giant.”
They caught up with Fist and Justan asked Gwyrtha to keep pace with him as he told Jhonate the important details about their encounters with Charz. “I am not sure if his abilities were totally unique to him or if other rock giants have similar healing rates. Hopefully they are not enemies, but we should be prepared nonetheless.”
She gave a quick nod. “I have fought giants and I have fought armored creatures. I know what to do.”
Justan checked in with the raptoid. Deathclaw, what do you see now?
I am closer to them. Look at-! The raptoid hissed. Somehow one of them saw me and fired an arrow. Justan sensed that he hadn’t been hit, but the raptoid had been startled. I moved in time but that arrow . . . I think it tried to bite me.
Show me what you saw.
The giant was accompanied by two humans on horses, one male and one female. Another person that also looked to be female sat on the giant’s shoulder. Justan recognized the man on horseback at once and smiled. Are they coming after you, Deathclaw?
They have stopped and are looking this way. The female that shot at me has another arrow cocked.
Stay back. They are not enemies. We’ll be right there.
“Jhonate, Fist, I don’t think we need to worry,” Justan said. “The giant does look a lot like Charz but the man that’s with him is Sir Hilt!”
“Sir Hilt? I wonder what he is doing here.” Jhonate said in surprise. “And why is he traveling with a giant?”
Justan reigned Gwyrtha in and asked Fist to stop. “I don’t know, but he’s also traveling with a woman that is quick with a bow, so once we reach the exit, you and I need to walk on alone. The woman might see Gwyrtha or Fist and fire.”
I’m not scared of arrows. Gwyrtha said.
But these arrows seem to be magic, Justan said remembering Deathclaw’s alarm. It is better to use caution.
The last hundred yards of the chasm sloped upward and curved to the right. They dismounted just before the exit and left Fist and Gwyrtha out of sight as they stepped out into the open.
The four visitors were no more than fifty yards away, staring in Deathclaw’s direction. The rock giant stood with its back to them, a thin female f
igure standing on his right shoulder, her hands raised to her eyes to shade them from the glare of the afternoon sun. Sir Hilt had climbed down from his horse and had his hands on the pommels of his swords, while the woman with the bow still had an arrow pulled back and aimed unnervingly close to the raptoid’s exact position.
“Sir Hilt!” Justan called out and the four of them turned, the woman’s arrow now targeting his chest. Justan raised his hands. “We came to greet you!”
“You do not want to fire on us,” Jhonate added.
Hilt laughed. “Well what a surprise! The infamous Sir Edge!” He walked over to them and gave Justan a warm embrace. “I must admit, I have been thrilled to hear the stories of what you’ve accomplished since I saw you last.”
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 37
