by Warhammer
‘Always hall proud, your ma,’ said Nakka. ‘Nothing wrong with wanting to come back to a nice, clean chamber after being away for a bit.’
‘Those that make it mucky can clean it, as far as I’m concerned,’ said Haldora. ‘If you don’t have the time, don’t bring the grime. Gramma Awdie used to say that.’
Nakka looked taken aback and said nothing. Vadlir chuckled quietly and wouldn’t meet his son’s gaze or Haldora’s.
‘Fine,’ said Haldora, slowing down. ‘I’ll talk to folks that appreciate my company.’
They walked for the rest of the day, until they came to the defences of the Lower Gate. The gatehouse itself was set into the eastern side of the valley, an impressive fortification of towers and turrets and ramparts over two immense gates each half a dozen paces thick, bound with gilded iron and studded with bolts as large as a dwarf’s fist. They were open at the moment, a sign to any travellers – and refugees – that they were welcome in Ekrund. Beneath the gatehouse the precincts of the Lower Gate stretched into the mountain, a suburb of Ekrund proper linked only by one great hall. It was to many a distinct city, and was ruled over by the descendant of one of its founders, who always took the inherited title Lord Garudak.
The gate towers were imposing, but not as much as the bastion. This wall stretched the whole width of the valley, with a single smaller gate in its centre. Secondary towers and ramparts jutted out and ran along the road, so that any potential attacker had to run a gauntlet of fire for a thousand paces and more. The bastion was reinforced with great buttresses set a third of the way in from each side of the valley, composed of octagonal towers with outlying turrets that could house dozens of war engines and hundreds of warriors behind reinforced battlements.
It was not yet dusk and the bastion gate was still open, but Haldora noticed there were more guards on the towers and ramparts than when she had gone out on patrol with the rangers. However, they turned away from the bastion and headed to the Lower Gate itself.
Inside were store houses, guard chambers and, of course, several ale halls and hostelries to water and feed travellers. There were a few tired-looking dwarfs clutching rescued belongings and Haldora recognised the look of Varnfolk immediately. With them were others travelling to Ekrund – traders from other holds, rangers and couriers.
The group were met by a silver-haired gatekeeper who, on learning their business, showed them to quarters set aside for the clans coming from and going to the watchtowers. They were staying just the one night and Haldora found herself in a small side chamber with her mother and several other females, while the male dwarfs were billeted in larger dormitories one level below. This seclusion seemed odd but it was only for one night, and it seemed that the king’s declaration to reinstate the outer watches had taken everybody by surprise. More substantial provisions for relocating clans were being made, the hostelry owners assured them.
In the morning they set out eastwards once more, travelling as a large group just after sunrise. By mid-morning there was little sign of the hold, except if they looked back they could see the walls and towers around the peak of Mount Bloodhorn, beneath which most of Ekrund lay. The ramparts and towers that had protected the road before gave way to unspoilt mountains and valleys, though here and there a mine entrance could be seen, or the squat shape of a goat herder’s cottage. By midday they had left the main road and were heading southwards along a track through the foothills, all existence of Ekrund left behind them.
The outer watchtowers were at the very edge of the mountains, beyond the furthest tunnels of the hold. Haldora caught her first glimpse of Undak Grimgazan as the track crested a particularly high hill. The citadel and surrounding towers stood on a shoulder of rock that jutted into the high grass of the wildlands. It looked very much like etchings she had seen depicting the lighthouses that stood on promontories outside the approaches to Barak Varr’s harbour, with the wildlands heaping up against the hard stone like waves crashing on a shore.
They were too far away to make the tower before nightfall and made camp along the track, building fires for cooking. The weather was dry and warm and Haldora did not even need a blanket as she lay down that night and looked up at the stars. In the distance light gleamed from the narrow windows of the watchtower and she could see the tiny flicker of lamps along a buttress of fortification that extended out several hundred paces into the wildlands. She fell asleep with fresh air in her nostrils, and dreamed of the old days during the war with the elves when whole companies of dwarfs patrolled the march towers.
Their fires had been spotted in the night and shortly after dawn the camp was approached by a patrol sent out from the tower. They were from the Gnollanar clan and were happy to find their replacements arriving in timely fashion. After reporting that very little had happened during their enforced sojourn they returned to their families with word that relief was on its way, while the Angboks and the rest of the clan broke camp. By the time Haldora and the others were approaching the gate of the tower the Gnollanars and their extended family were already leaving, wheeling their barrows with them.
‘Who’s in charge?’ asked one of the departing garrison, brandishing a large bunch of brass keys.
‘I’ll take those,’ said Stofrik, emerging from the throng of Grimssons. Gabbik hurried forward to stake his claim but it was too late, the keys were already in Stofrik’s fingers by the time the head of the Angboks arrived.
‘Hope you brought some knitting, dear, or maybe some darning,’ said a grey-haired Gnollanar as she tramped past Haldora. ‘You’ll get ever so bored otherwise.’
‘Not me,’ said Haldora. ‘I can always find something to do.’
‘I’m sure you can, dear,’ the ageing dwarf replied, looking Haldora up and down, evidently irritated that her advice had been dismissed. ‘I’ve heard about the Angboks.’
Fingers closed on Haldora’s arm and dragged her away as she opened her mouth to retort. She turned to confront her assailant and found herself in the grip of Nakka.
‘Best not to say nowt,’ he said. ‘Not with all these folks listening. Your pa would not be best pleased if you start cursing and whatnot.’
‘I wasn’t going to curse.’ Nakka’s eyebrow raised a fraction in disbelief. ‘Well, nothing bad. She should mind her own, that’s all. No business of hers to be telling me what to do with my time.’
Nakka released her and shrugged.
‘I’m looking forward to thirty days of peace and quiet. Let’s start now, eh?’
Haldora couldn’t stay angry, not with Nakka looking at her with a glint in his eye. No matter what, even when he didn’t say the right things, Nakka eased her mind simply by being around. She heard her father calling for attention and the family gathered around the gate.
Gabbik stood beside Stofrik and a few of the other thanes. The last of the previous tower occupants filed out, sparing nothing more than glances for their replacements. Most of them looked happy to be leaving, even the youngsters.
‘We’ll divvy up rooms and kitchens and such when we’ve had a look around,’ announced Gabbik. ‘First order of business is to draw up a plan of action in various circumstances. We need lists of who’s to be on the guard rotas and who’s fit enough to go out on patrols. Stofrik?’
‘Aye,’ said the Grimsson thane. ‘We’ll not be going far out, just a couple of days to the south and back again, but it’s some rough terrain down that way. The greybeards can watch the walls while we’re gone. There’s plenty that can walk the ramparts, so six shifts for guard duty and four shifts for patrols.’
‘And we need to post up to the beacon too,’ said Gabbik. He pointed with hammer along the shoulder of rock, to a tall, thin tower about thirty paces from the main building. ‘Anyone who can strike a flint can do that, so we’ll all take turns in threes. So, who’s putting their names forward for patrols?’
Haldora went with Nakka and waited in line while the Angboks, Troggklads, Grimssons and the rest made their wishes and abilities k
nown. When her father looked up from his list he sighed.
‘You really think you can go on patrol? This isn’t a jaunt with rangers, it’s going to be constant marching, and if anyone gets in trouble it’s likely to be a patrol.’
‘Put her on with me,’ said Nakka.
‘No room for dead weight,’ said Stofrik, looking over from where he was making his own list of willing family members. ‘Sorry, Haldora.’
‘She ain’t no dead weight,’ said Nakka, stepping up. ‘She’s got an eye for axework, she has.’
‘Really?’ said Stofrik. ‘A pickaxe, maybe. Or cutting firewood.’
‘Proper axework, of the neck-cutting kind,’ said Nakka. Before Haldora could say anything, he slapped a hand to her shoulder with a broad grin. ‘Been teaching her meself.’
‘Have you now?’ growled Gabbik. His hands went to his hips, paper in one, charcoal in the other. ‘Nice of you to take that on yourself there, Nakka.’
‘Let’s not cause a fuss, eh?’ said Haldora. She tugged at Nakka’s arm but would have had more chance of shifting a tree than getting him to step away now.
‘She asked,’ said Nakka. He glanced at Haldora and then back at Gabbik. ‘You know that.’
‘I knew no such thing,’ said Gabbik. ‘What do you think I am, soft-headed? No daughter of the Angboks is going to be wasting her time swinging a battleaxe when she could be earning her keep or tending the halls.’
‘You said…’ Nakka’s expression was one of confusion as he looked at Haldora. It became a look of disappointment rather than anger as realisation dawned. ‘That’s not on, Haldora. Not on at all.’
‘What’s this?’ said Gabbik. He glared at Haldora. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘She told me that you knew about the axe lessons, Gabbik,’ said Nakka. He sighed and shook his head. ‘You know I wouldn’t have done nothing without you knowing. She told me.’
‘You better go and see your mother,’ Gabbik said quietly, bobbing his head towards the open tower gates. ‘She needs help getting the cooking fires going.’
‘But Nakka just told you,’ she said. ‘I’m good to fight with. Aren’t I, Nakka?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Nakka. He turned away. ‘You have to trust those that raise their shield next to yours.’
‘Pa?’
Her father was resolute, lips tight, brow furrowed. His words were forced out through gritted teeth.
‘Get. Inside. Now.’
He was visibly shaking, face turning red with the effort of not losing his temper. She had never seen her father so angry before. It seemed like such a small thing to get so worked up about. What did it matter that she had learnt how to fight? She could see that there was no favour to be gained making her case there and then. The other dwarfs were whispering amongst themselves and she heard scattered words of their exchanges: ‘liar’, ‘betrayed her father’, ‘humiliated’ and ‘typical’.
There was no point in making more of a scene. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she trudged through the gates.
‘Stop your sulking, girl,’ said Friedra. Her hands were a blur as she chopped carrots and turnips on the counter. ‘That corn won’t grind itself.’
Haldora sighed as she pulled away from the window of the tower looking out over the wildlands. It had been some time since Nakka’s patrol had moved out of sight, but Haldora could just about make out the faint cloud of dust left by their passage south. She turned back to the large stone bowl of grains and picked up the grinding stone.
‘Have the mills stopped working in Ekrund?’ she asked petulantly.
‘Mind your lip, girl. This is my great-gramma’s recipe and they didn’t have no fancy water mills and windmills back then because all the men was off digging the hold, so just be thankful and don’t start your grumbling. Honestly, you’ve been nothing but a misery since we got here.’
‘It’s so unfair,’ said Haldora. ‘If I had asked pa to let me have lessons from Nakka he would have said no.’
‘And that’s why you should have known better. You lied, Haldora. You lied to Nakka outright, and you went behind our backs. What else haven’t you been telling us? What else have you been getting up to?’
‘Nothing! I haven’t got time to do anything else, between washing and cleaning and mining and then practising with my axe.’
‘So you’ve been shirking too, have you? What jobs haven’t got done because you’ve been playing at warriors?’
‘I’m not playing,’ snarled Haldora. She thumped the bowl down on the wooden butcher’s block at the centre of the kitchen. ‘This is serious. What if Grammi Skraffi is right? What if there are more goblins and trolls about these days?’
‘Then there’s plenty of axes and hammers already waiting for them,’ said Friedra. She scooped up handfuls of the vegetables and dumped them in a pan on the floor, big enough that it came up to her waist. ‘Why are you so bothered about doing something lots of other dwarfs can do? I thought you wanted to be special.’
‘I want to be an axe maiden.’ Haldora said it quietly. It had been on her mind for some time, and now was the time to share it. ‘Like Valaya. And Gramma Awdie.’
‘An axe maiden, is it?’ Friedra made no attempt to hide her disappointment. ‘Awdhelga was great for many things, but she filled your head with stories that have done you no good. You think she wanted to fight goblins? No, they just found her and like always she did what she had to do. That’s what made Awdhelga special. She made do. She made do better than anybody else. When she overcooked the malt she invented blackbeer. Stories, girl, they won’t get you a husband or put food on the table.’
‘There’s got to be more to life than just cooking, cleaning and making babies,’ said Haldora. She picked up the rounded stone and started grinding the corn grains in the bottom of the bowl.
‘There is, but you can’t go telling lies. You know better than that.’ Friedra wiped her hands on her apron and heaved up the pot of water and vegetables to a hook over the firepit. ‘You should have asked your father first.’
‘He would have said no.’
‘He might not. How often has he really told you not to do something? I mean, out and out said that he forbids it? Never. He might scowl and grumble, but he’s never denied you anything. Nothing you’ve really wanted.’
Haldora thought about this and the truth of it just added to her miserable mood. She had been knocking around the watchtower for eight days and Nakka had avoided her for most of that time, saying only what was required when she took the food round at the evening meals they shared with the Troggklads. Now he was gone for two more days and so was her father. The two people she wanted more than anything to say sorry to had flat out refused to see her and now they had left altogether.
Haldora pounded the grains into flour, turning her frustration into something productive. In two days Nakka would be back and so would Gabbik and the time away would give them time to think and maybe forgive her.
‘Do you think I should say I’m sorry again?’ she asked her mother. ‘Maybe bake Gramma Awdie’s treacle cake as a gift?’
‘Yes, dear, that would help. It’s your father’s favourite and I’m sure Nakka’s got a sweet tooth.’ Friedra smiled. ‘Now you’re starting to think like Angbok womenfolk.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Upon the flanks of Mount Bloodhorn the king set his mind to digging a new mine. Much toil had been spent on Ankor-Drakk, but he was determined that he would rule over a hold worthy of a king.
The Angboks were supportive of the king and they abandoned their breweries and farms to help prospect for the site of the future kingdom. They had to fight back more goblins to claim the higher passes and valleys, but they found earth that was rich, in ore and in wood.’
After two more days, Haldora started to understand why her mother spent so much time sweeping, polishing, cooking, pickling, knitting, sewing, gilding and sampling Skraffi’s mead. It helped pass the intolerable hours of nothing between waking u
p and going to sleep. She was amazed by the menfolk plodding along the walls, doing their rounds to the secondary towers further west, sometimes sitting with a pipe and puffing quietly, or quaffing a pint noisily. The simplest thing seemed to provide them with endless distraction, if not outright amusement, for days at a time.
They talked a lot, she realised, when there was nothing much to talk about. They talked about clouds, and sometimes the more adventurous spirits would even try to see shapes and runes in cloud formations. Not that there were many clouds around. It was late summer and the heat was like a furnace at the height of the day, reflected from the bare rocks and the stone blocks of the tower itself. And this in itself was a matter for much remark.
‘Never been a hotter summer since I was born,’ one Troggklad greybeard declared.
‘Hottest summer since the Great Heatwave of oh-four,’ countered Farbrok Grimsson.
‘Could cook an egg on them tiles,’ claimed another, though the day before Haldora had actually tried and it hadn’t worked, despite it being a south-facing turret roof and noon.
She had tried to point out the results of her experiments but nobody paid her any heed. Word had spread concerning her indiscretion with Nakka – as it was being related, though she was sure ‘indiscretions’ were meant to be far more exciting – and dwarfs who would happily have crossed a beer hall to avoid buying Gabbik a drink before were now mysteriously united in his cause and tight-lipped in her presence.
‘They stick together,’ her mother had told her when she asked what could be done. Friedra had relented slightly in her condemnation, through Haldora’s diligent application of hard work and subtle flattery. Going to Friedra for advice made her mother feel important and was the surest way to get on her good side. ‘There’s so few womenfolk they know we’re more important than them, but it’d be a dwarf short in the beard who says such a thing, so they just try to pretend that they could take us or leave us.’
