The Lady's Man (41 page)

Chapter Twenty Nine.

The party were travelling along the southern road leading through Gerwindar when they came across the dwarf. Actually he came upon them as they were stopped for the evening and doing nothing more than thinking about preparing their evening meal.

He was a trader by the looks of things, riding a wagon being pulled by a pit pony. Given that the sun had set and the sky was darkening it was a surprise to see him travelling. Besides, they weren't yet near the dwarven city of Iron Deep and the dwarves did not trade a lot with the gnomes. They did not have good relations with them. They did not have good relations with many people.

To the dwarves the elves and dryads were tree people; primitives scarcely worthy of recognition. Satyrs were swamp lovers, little more than animals. Humans were savages and primitives but capable warriors and the dwarves respected them for that at least. They also had the best trading markets and plenty of gold to sell. The giants who lived in the mountains above them were their best regarded neighbours. They respected them for their strength. But they still didn't consider them their equals.

With the gnomish the dwarves' dislike was centred on their rivalry. Dwarves survived by trade. They tore the ores from the ground and used them to fashion their wares. And to give them their due dwarves were incredibly capable artisans when it came to metal wares.

But the gnomes were equally capable as artisans and unlike the dwarves they welcomed the use of magic in their wares. In fact they normally enchanted them. And so when the merchants sold their wares in the various markets, the dwarves and the gnomes were bitter rivals, often undercutting each other and deriding the others' wares. Certainly they never traded with one another.

So to see the dwarven trader riding towards them in gnomish lands came as a surprise. But more so than that was the fact that his wagon was empty. If he was passing through Gerwindar heading for the nearer human realms to trade he should have had a wagon loaded down with wares. Instead, even under the darkening sky they could see that the deck of the wagon was empty.

Still, they sat on the side of the road as he approached and waited patiently for him to reach them, knowing that he could only be coming from Iron Deep. Even though he would not be friendly he might at least be able to tell them how to proceed and who they could speak to if they were to enter the dwarven realm. Especially if they could find some coin to throw his way. They didn't have to wait long.

“Out of the way tree rats!”

The dwarf waved his arm angrily at them. But strangely Genivere thought, he didn't sound so much dismissive of them as he did angry. Not with them though. He barely even seemed to notice them. His gesture was simply a habit. There was something wrong.

“We would like to speak Master Dwarf.”

The captain wasn't going to be put off by the dwarf's rudeness. It was after all, only what they'd expected.

“I have no words for your kind.”

At least she'd caught the dwarf's attention and made him look up at her instead of at the back of his pony. He still sounded angry though. But his face spoke of misery and his hand did not go near the pole axe lying on the seat beside him.

Genivere suddenly felt concerned for the dwarf. It was an unusual thing to feel for one of his people. They were angry and insolent, arrogant and always spoiling for a fight. They were dangerous too, inordinately strong despite their small stature, and quick with their tempers and weapons both. But this one carried the weight of grief in his eyes.

“Who do you mourn dwarf?” Genivere asked the question no one else seemed willing to ask and ignored the captain when she turned to look at her.

“My people. My city. My home.”

He stared straight at her and she saw the truth of his words in his stone grey eyes. She saw the anger too in the set of his shoulders and the rigidity of his jaw.

“We too grieve for friends. And for copses torn from the world.”

“Everyone grieves. And many more tears will be shed before that vile creature is finally laid to rest. Rivers will flow and lakes will be filled from them. Mark my words tree rats. I Belabas Coldfist of Iron Deep promise you that.”

He wasn't threatening them; he was stating something that he believed to be true, and that did not settle well with Genivere. Nor with any of the others.

“Vile creature?” Captain Ysabel asked.

“The thane! The thane, you moon addled whelp!”

The dwarf yelled it at the captain as if it should mean something. But it didn't mean much at all to them save to Genivere, and it didn't mean that much to her. She knew the term from somewhere. But she couldn't place it. Not just then. Maybe in time it would come to her.

“You've been fighting a magistrate?”

Captain Ysabel asked the question, completely ignoring the disrespect shown to her. But then Belabas was a dwarf. He would always be expected to be disrespectful to their people, and this wasn't their land. It was the gnome's realm. It would be different if the dwarf had come to them and started calling them names in their own home.

“No!” Something about her question seemed to have incensed the dwarf even more. “Has the green gone to your brain woman?”

“The thane. The destroyer of realms. Leveller of cities. Killer of millions. Bane of the sylph.”

“I don't understand. I've never heard of this thane. Who is he? What is he?”

But even as the captain asked Genivere was finally remembering where she'd heard the word before. It was the dwarf's mention of the sylph that had reminded her.

“Captain, almost a thousand years ago the thane came among the sylph and destroyed their cities, killed millions, and turned their land into a rocky waste. He was said to be a wizard of immense power. One against whom all the others put together could not stand.”

Which, when she thought about it reminded her uncomfortably of another incredibly powerful wizard they'd encountered only a few weeks before. One who had been busy destroying small villages and towns.

“Ahh a dryad.”

The dwarf did not seem impressed by her or her knowledge as he stared at her once more, having apparently noticed her ears. “The only people even more addled than the elves. But for once the stupid tree rat is right.”

“The thane destroyed the Land of The Sky long ago and now it seems he's returned and decided to attack the honest miners of Iron Deep. He has murdered at least fifty thousand.”

“Fifty thousand?” The captain's voice trailed off in shock.

“At least. So many more are still buried in Iron Deep that we'll never know the true number.”

Genivere believed him. She didn't often believe dwarves. They lied a lot. But the truth was written in his face and she could hear it in his voice. It was there in the anger too. He wasn't angry for what had been done to him and his group. He was angry because it covered the grief. He had lost people. Friends and family. And he couldn't yet face that truth head on. So he yelled instead.

“How?”

“Magic. Power. How does a thane do anything?” As quickly as it had come the dwarf's anger vanished to be replaced by bitterness once more.

“Kindly tell us what happened Master Belabas.” Genivere decided to try a more polite approach. Dwarves didn't like it, but they surely hated it less than the captain's almost challenging tone. “We have been riding through the villages of my people that have been destroyed. Ripped from the world while their remains and much of the forest has been covered in disease. An undead disease that will not even burn clean. It may be that this is the same creature's work.”

“Aye fool girl. It is.”

He didn't know that. He had to be guessing she thought. But he sounded certain of his words.

“This thane is busy destroying the world one town and one city at a time. Iron Deep was simply the first city he set his murderous eyes on.”

An entire city destroyed? It was unthinkable. And yet she knew it was true. She knew it because she suddenly understood what he was doing driving an empty wagon north.

“You carry the names Master Belabas?”

And that was the cargo he carried. One of no size and that could not be seen. But one that was yet heavier than all the stone in the world. He was carrying the names of the dead to their kith and kin in the other realms. They would be written in the book sitting on the seat beside him. The book that his pole axe was laid across.

“That is my task.”

He nodded at her, for once not rudely. But then he would not be rude when the names of his clan's dead were on his heart. Dwarves had few decent customs about them, but that was one they did observe. That the names of their dead and insults should not be uttered in the same breath.

“Please tell us what happened that their deaths may be observed.”

“You know our ways girl.”

The dwarf did not seem impressed by that. He would probably have much preferred to simply carry on his way. But custom had to be observed. Even when it was in the company of elves.

“Then you shall hear of the passing of the Iron Deep clan and know of their honour. And of the scourge that destroyed them.”

“It was after the final battle. We had finally been victorious against the plague of walking death that has beset us for months. Five thousand of our best had fallen to it, but at least three hundred thousand of our restless ancestors had been permanently laid to rest. We smashed all their bones until they were little more than powder and no foul mage will raise them again. Not even a dead one.”

“It was a glorious victory after a mighty battle, and we were celebrating. Every house on every street was alive with laughter and song. The ale and mead were flowing like water. Music was in the air and the people were dancing. It was to be a night to remember.”

“And then he came.”

Genivere wished he hadn't said that. It reminded her too much of Mayfall and how he had simply appeared out of nowhere. Wrapped until then behind a curtain of invisibility. And it reminded her of what he had done after.

“He arrived without warning. Without ever having been allowed through the city gates. He was just there. This annoying human. Calling us runts and telling us we'd annoyed him by destroying his army.”

“No one believed him of course. No one really cared about him. A few guards went to arrest him and throw him out. But only because he was upsetting people. In truth we just wanted him gone.”

“And then he shouted. A sound that wasn't at all human. Not when it ran from one end of Iron Deep to the other. When it echoed from the cavern ceiling hundreds of feet above our heads. When we could feel it in the stone under our feet. And we knew then that he was some sort of wizard. Someone with that foul magic your people so love.”

“Dozens of guards ran for him then, but they were without hope. He laughed at them, and they were blown away. Sent flying into the air far faster than any arrow ever given flight, only to smash into the cavern walls. Smashed so hard that their bodies broke. And he laughed as their broken bodies tumbled to the ground.”

Genivere felt sick when she heard him say that. All she could see as he spoke was Yorik's broken body being hurled with frightening power into the temple wall. All she could hear was the sickening sound as his body and his armour had both been broken on it. She guessed the others were thinking much the same as her. Still she said nothing. This wasn't the time or the place.

“Then with the merest flick of his fingers he sent others the same way and soon there were hundreds of my people hurtling through the air.” Master Belabas sighed in pain. “Hurtling through the air until they hit a wall or fell back to earth and hit the stone beneath them.”

“People were running, screaming in panic. The women and children tried to flee. They tried to hide. But he would have none of it. He caught them and sent them flying to their deaths as well, laughing each time as if it was somehow amusing. The men tried to fight, but lasted no longer. All they did was amuse him. But they distracted him while those who could not fight found shelter or distance.”