"There is a way," the high king told him, "a secret way that has faded from memory over the cycles. My predecessor told me of it." He lit his pipe and sucked on it vigorously. "It dates back to the glorious orbits of old. In those happy times traveling was easy. We used underground tunnels that crisscrossed the whole of Girdlegard, linking our kingdoms."
"Tunnels…So we could travel unseen. With ponies we could-"
"You won't need ponies. You'll get there soon enough." Gundrabur pulled his cloak tighter and sent for another blanket. His inner furnace was burning worryingly low.
Tungdil frowned. "I don't follow."
"You've seen the wagons carrying iron ore through the mines?"
"Sure, but…" Then he grasped what the high king was saying. "We can go by wagon?"
Gundrabur smiled. "Indeed. Our forefathers used wagons to travel by the shortest route from the firstling kingdom to the seconding kingdom and the secondling kingdom to the fourthling kingdom and so forth, unimpeded by marshland, wilderness, rain, or snow. They could convey troops wherever they wanted in no time at all. Within a matter of orbits an entire army could cross from north to south undetected by men, elves, or magi."
"That's the answer!" Tungdil cried excitedly. "If the tunnels are still intact, we'll be able to forge the ax before the dark magus has time to defeat the human armies and conquer their kingdoms."
"I can't guarantee what kind of state they're in," warned Gundrabur. "According to the ancient records, some sections of the tunnels have collapsed. Balendilнn, fetch the maps." "Why hasn't anyone come across them since?"
"The entrance lies in an area of the Blue Range that became polluted with sulfurous gas. Our kinsfolk abandoned that side of the mountain and the tunnels were forgotten."
At length Balendilнn returned with two ancient maps showing the path of the tunnels through the secondling kingdom. The tunnels cut straight through the heart of the Blue Range and were well hidden, with numerous mechanisms and traps securing them against intruders. Even if Tion's creatures had known about the tunnels, there was no way of breaking into them, so the forces of darkness were obliged to conduct their invasion overland.
"Well, that's settled," Tungdil told the others. "I'll do it."
"Good," said Balendilнn with a smile. He refilled their tankards. "In that case, you should be the one who tells the assembly of the tunnels' existence. The delegates will be impressed." They clunked tankards and drank.
Vraccas made me party to this knowledge so that the dwarves could liberate Girdlegard from evil," said Tungdil, coming to the end of his impassioned speech. "Why else would he have given me the artifacts and books?"
"Forgotten relics from a glorious era!" Gandogar said scornfully. "Nothing you've stumbled upon is of any practical use. A miracle ax to be forged secretly in a furnace fired by dragon's breath at the heart of the Perished Land-it can't be done! If you ask me, the whole thing's a fiction, a legend that found its way into our archives by mistake!"
"You may not believe it," Tungdil cut in, "but Nфd'onn clearly does. He wiped out a whole settlement to get his hands on the books. He tried to kill me too! Why would he be so worried if it were just an old story? Clansmen," he begged the assembly, "we need to send an expedition. Vraccas will see us through this."
"Of course he will," jeered Bislipur. "If you don't mind my asking, how exactly were you intending to slay the dragon? They're tough old beasts, but tell it one of your stories and the poor thing will probably die of laughter on the spot."
The roars of merriment were enough to convince Tungdil not to put the matter to the vote. The motion would only fail. Common sense had yet to bludgeon its way into the delegates' thick skulls.
"To business," Gandogar said impatiently. He threw off his cloak, revealing a shimmering mail shirt. His adviser handed him his shield and his ax, while another fastened his helmet. "The purpose of this meeting is to decide the succession. Let the contest begin! For the first task I challenge my rival to a duel. Victory will go to whoever draws first blood or forces his opponent to his knees."
In an instant Boпndil and Boлndal were at Tungdil's side, helping him on with his armor. His metal tunic looked cheap and dull compared to Gandogar's glittering mail. "Beware of his shield. He's bound to try to ram you with it," whispered Boпndil. He clenched his fists. "If only I could take your place," he growled. "I'd hammer him into the marble."
"You've been wonderful teachers," Tungdil reassured the twins as he buckled his chinstrap. "And I'm not just talking about the past few orbits; you taught me a great deal during our journey as well. If I lose, it won't be because of you."
The two candidates stepped into the semicircle between the throne and the benches. Balendilнn acted as referee. His eyes smiled reassuringly at Tungdil. "Fight valiantly and honorably," he told them as he backed away. The rivals were alone in the arena.
The fourthling king lost no time in launching his attack. Tungdil parried blow after blow, all the while trying not to be distracted by the twinkling diamonds on Gandogar's ax. He watched the swooping trajectory of the blade from behind his shield, retreating farther and farther until his back came up against a column.
As the next blow swung toward him, Tungdil ducked and struck back. There was a shrill metallic shriek as his blunted ax scraped over Gandogar's hastily raised shield and struck the lower edge of his helmet. Head spinning, the king staggered back.
"Now attack!" yelled Boпndil, caught up in the excitement. Fired on by his success and the encouragement of his tutor, Tungdil rushed forward.
Not if I can help it. Bislipur had no intention of allowing Gandogar to be defeated. Sverd was standing beside him, so he gave him a little shove. The gnome pitched forward and struck his head on a tankard. Beer slopped to the floor.
The incident was Tungdil's undoing. In his haste he didn't notice that the slippery marble floor was as treacherous as an ice rink. His right foot skidded to the side; he struggled to keep his balance and flailed out vainly with his ax.
"Foolish gnome!" Bislipur unleashed a volley of curses, threatening to thrash the hapless Sverd and tighten his collar until it cut off his breath.
"The scoundrel did it on purpose!" protested Boлndal.
"He's just clumsy, that's all. He'll pay for this, believe me!" said Bislipur, still pretending to be furious with the gnome.
None of that was any comfort to Tungdil, who skidded past Gandogar just as the latter straightened up and took aim. The king's ax thwacked his back with enough force to send him spinning out of control. Cursing, he lost his footing and forfeited the task.
A cheer went up from the fourthling corner where Gandogar's supporters were gathered. The jubilation turned to mocking laughter when Tungdil struggled to his feet. The contest wasn't unfolding quite as he'd hoped.
"Now for my task," he shouted above the din. The great hall fell silent.
"What is the nature of the challenge?"
"We shall both transcribe a text. The first to finish wins."
"What?" Gandogar protested. "I'm a king, not a poet!"
"You don't have to be a poet; all you have to do is write. A good monarch must have a steady hand and a smart mind to guide it; how else would he make the laws? But maybe fighting is your only virtue…" Without further ado he sat down at a desk and waited for Gandogar to follow suit.
"What if I refuse?"
"If you refuse," said Balendilнn, "you'll lose the challenge and the tally will be one task each, leaving the succession to be decided by the final three challenges."
"Besides," Boлndal added snidely, "it would be cowardly not to accept. The scholar wasn't afraid to face your ax. I hope the fourthling leader isn't frightened of a quill!"
The gibe and resulting hilarity prompted Gandogar to lay down his shield and helmet and take a seat at the desk.
The referee called for the rolls of parchment and chose one at random. "You may begin."