Tungdil knew it was pointless to argue; the twins had made up their minds. Determination was a virtue, whereas intransigence…Boлndal would rather die than he healed by the maga.
He tiptoed into the chamber and saw Boлndal lying waxen-faced in the bed, seemingly dead but for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. The physicians washed away the dried blood and carefully sewed the gaping flesh together, then applied a compress of moss to ease the pain.
"We'll have to go on without him," Tungdil said softly. "He won't last more than a hundred paces in his present state."
"I'll be fine, scholar," came a faint but determined whisper from the bed. Boлndal looked at him pleadingly and readied for his hand. "Another few orbits, and I'll be back on my feel. It's just a couple of scratches, that's all."
Tungdil glanced at one of the physicians, who promptly shook his head. "It's out of the question. The wounds are deeper than they look and there's the internal damage to consider. Any movement will make things worse and he'll die in agony. He's not fit to go anywhere."
"I'm sorry, Boлndal," Tungdil told him, heavy-hearted, "but you have to stay here and rest. You've done your bit for now; just be sure you're back with us when it comes to the great battle against Nфd'onn."
"I'm coming, like it or not," Boлndal threatened. "Boпndil and I stick together! Forging Keenfire is the most important mission in dwarven history and I won't-" He tried to sit up but had barely succeeded in moving when he gave a low groan, his fresh dressings flushing crimson with blood. "I suppose that settles it," he said through gritted teeth. He looked up at his twin. "It's up to you now to protect Tungdil and the rest of the company."
Boпndil was standing stiffly by the bed, searching for the right thing to say. "All our lives we've been together," he said thickly, "and now I'm leaving you behind. It won't be the same fighting without you." He squeezed Boлndal's hand. "The first hundred runts will be for you."
"You've got great plans, then," said his brother, smiling weakly. "Don't overreach yourself, Boпndil; I won't be there to watch your back." They embraced, tears streaming down their bearded cheeks. Never before had they faced a parting such as this.
"You'll have to keep a better check on your temper when I'm not around. Promise you won't let it run away with you?"
Boпndil gave his solemn word. "Get some rest now, brother." He and Tungdil left the chamber. "When do we leave?"
"As soon as possible. Andфkai has done her best to patch up Djerun with her magic and he's fit to travel. He might be too big for the wagon, though."
"We'll be cramped as it is. There's the three long-uns, Andфkai and her pet warrior, Hammerfist and Shimmerbeard, not to mention the materials for Keenfire-we'll need a couple of wagons at least."
"Don't forget Balyndis," Tungdil reminded him.
"Who?"
"Our new smith."
"A woman?"
"You sound as enthusiastic as Bavragor."
"I've got nothing against women, don't get me wrong. I like a nice well-built lass with plump cheeks and big bosoms, a real woman who you can hold on to and warm yourself against, but-"
"Come on, Boпndil, you know as well as I do that some of the secondling women are excellent smiths. They can be handy on the battlefield as well. Smeralda could fight like a-" He checked himself. Blast.
Boпndil stiffened at the mention of his dead lover's name. "Fine, we'll take the woman. If you'll excuse me, I'm tired." He disappeared along the passageway in the direction of his chamber.
Tungdil watched him go. That was stupid, he remonstrated with himself. I need to watch what I say.
"I'm no stranger to the smithy, believe me," said a high-pitched voice behind him. He whipped round in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Balyndis was still dressed in her mail, and her long dark hair framed her rounded face. "I wanted to tell you that it's an honor to be chosen for your mission."
His heart gave a little leap. He was so taken with the idea of traveling through Girdlegard in the company of the female smith that he almost forgot his worries about the twins. He gazed into her brown eyes, unable to say a single word.
"I can handle an ax as well as a hammer, you know."
Tungdil smiled weakly, still incapable of summoning his voice.
Balyndis didn't know what to make of his silence. "If you don't believe me, I can show you."
"Vraccas forbid!" he cried, raising his arms hurriedly. "I believe you, absolutely. I daresay that women are good at fighting too."
The new smith seemed to take offense at his words. "In that case, Tungdil, I insist," she said, reaching for her ax.
Tungdil's eyes were drawn to the formidable muscles in her arms and chest. "Honestly, Balyndis, I didn't mean it like that," he said, trying desperately to repair the damage. "I was worried you might get hurt."
"I see. So you think you can hurt me, do you?"
I wish she'd stop twisting everything I say! "Of course not," he explained hurriedly while Balyndis hefted her ax belligerently and took a few experimental swipes. "Not unless you weren't paying attention. Really, Balyndis, there's no need to prove anything. I believe you!"
"Well, I don't!" boomed a baritone voice. Bavragor stepped up to the smith, his war hammer at the ready. "It's bad enough that Goпmgar fights like a girl. The firstling must prove that she won't be a burden."
She squared her shoulders menacingly. "For that, mason, your one eye will soon be seeing stars." Already the war hammer and the ax were hurtling toward each other, and Tungdil barely succeeded in leaping clear.
The weapons collided forcefully. It was clear from Bavragor's grunts that he was impressed, but he soon got into difficulties, having failed to allow for Balyndis's strength and speed. By lunging at him from his blind side, she kept forcing him to turn his head. He was so intent on parrying her blade that he didn't notice when she raised her ax suddenly and whacked him on the head. He took a few dazed steps backward and slumped against the wall.
For a moment he looked at the grinning Balyndis in astonishment, then slowly raised his hand and felt his head. His shoulders shook slightly, rising and falling with increasing rapidity until he was roaring with laughter, the passageways echoing with his mirth.
"No one could say I didn't deserve it," he said, still chuckling as he clambered to his feet and extended a rough, calloused hand, which she gladly shook. "You're a fine lass, all right. There's no messing with you."
"Thank goodness we've cleared that up," Tungdil broke in, thankful to have been spared the ordeal. He nodded to Balyndis. "I think everyone agrees that you're an excellent fighter, so maybe we could go to bed and get some sleep before our early start."
The firstling smiled and was about to retire when Bavragor hauled her back. "I've got a better idea. How about taking me to the Red Range's finest tavern so I can taste a draft of your firstling beer? There'll be a song in it for you," he promised. Balyndis didn't need further persuasion and the two of them started down the corridor.
"Aren't you coming, Tungdil?" she shouted as they rounded the corner.
"He's our leader, remember! He's got maps to read, tunnels to check…Of course he's not coming!" said Bavragor, only half joking.
"Don't overdo it," Tungdil warned them. "Those tunnels have got lots of sharp curves!" He saw them off with a wave and retired to his chamber to ponder the events of the orbit. No matter how tempting it was, he knew it wouldn't be wise to fall for Balyndis; the mission required his full attention.
Inside his chamber, the light from the lone oil lamp steeped the polished walls in a gentle glow. It was the perfect ambience for relaxing before the big journey.
"Tungdil?"
He swung round to confront the voice behind him. Ax at the ready, he peered warily into the shadows by the door. "Narmora? Is that you?"