‘So you’ve got it then, have you?’ he said, without preamble. He’d heard the Phoenix Guard weren’t allowed to talk, so he was anticipating a short conversation. Or maybe just a nod, or grunt of acknowledgement. ‘Ungrim’s fire?’
Caradryan blinked and looked down. ‘What?’ he said, and his voice crackled like a rising flame. His eyes shone strangely, but Hammerson wasn’t afraid to meet them. He’d got used to eyes like that, on the march from Zhufbar to Averheim. Ungrim had been like a flame caged in metal, sparking and snarling, aching to unleash its power.
‘I thought you lot couldn’t talk,’ he said.
‘We can speak. We simply did not. Asuryan commanded it,’ Caradryan said. The elf’s face twisted, and what might have been sadness filled his eyes.
‘Nice of him to let you talk now,’ Hammerson grunted.
‘Asuryan is dead. And silence is no longer an indulgence we can afford,’ Caradryan said.
‘Just like an elf. Wouldn’t catch a dwarf breaking a vow just because he misplaced his god,’ Hammerson said, bluntly.
Caradryan’s expression became mask-like. ‘What do you want, dwarf?’
Hammerson looked up at him. ‘Got a bit of godfire in you, elf. Don’t deny it. Ungrim Ironfist had it, before he fulfilled his oath. I can feel it from here. Worse than that bird of yours. I’m surprised that horse hasn’t died of heatstroke.’ Hammerson looked away. ‘Godfire or no, if you’re leading us into a trap, I’ll crack your skull.’ He patted his hammer affectionately.
‘Why would I rescue you, only to lead you into a trap?’ Caradryan murmured. Hammerson frowned. He didn’t like being reminded of that. He was no prideful beardling, and he knew that the presence of the elves had been instrumental in turning back the tide of blood-worshippers who had caught up with the dwarfs and their mannish allies in the pine crags. But it was impolite to mention it, and even an elf ought to know better.
‘Who knows why elves do anything? You’re all crooked in the skull,’ Hammerson said, twirling his finger about alongside his head. ‘And you didn’t rescue us. Maybe you helped the manlings, but the Zhufbarak need no aid from your sort.’
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘We didn’t have to offer you our help, you know,’ Caradryan said, frowning.
‘Elves never offer help freely. There’s always a price.’
‘And your people would know all about that, eh, dwarf?’ Caradryan said.
Hammerson looked up at him, and made to retort. But before he could, someone said, ‘There is a price, and it is obvious, Master Hammerson. For we have all asked it, and paid it, in these past few months.’
Hammerson glanced over his shoulder, and saw the human Emperor striding along beside his griffon. Karl Franz had one hand on the beast’s neck, and its striped tail lashed in pleasure as he scratched beneath its feathers. ‘We fight for each other. That is the price and the paying of it, in these times. To fight alongside one another, and for one another, in defence of all that we knew and loved.’
Hammerson grimaced and turned back to the trail ahead. ‘Aye,’ he grunted. ‘Doesn’t mean we have to like it, though.’
The Emperor laughed. ‘No, nor would I ask it of you. Irritable dwarfs fight better than content ones, I have learned.’
Hammerson opened his mouth, ready to deny it. Then he snorted, shook his head and looked up at Caradryan. ‘And what about elves, then?’ he asked.
‘We fight better than dwarfs, whatever their disposition,’ Caradryan said. The elf turned in his saddle and looked at the Emperor. ‘We are drawing near. When we arrive, you will accompany me into the Eternal Glade alone.’
‘Not if I have anything to say about it,’ Hammerson growled.
‘You do not.’ Caradryan didn’t look at him. He spoke disdainfully, as if Hammerson were no more important than a pebble lodged in his horse’s hoof. Then, that was elves for you. They thought the world danced to their tune. Even now, with everything that had happened, elves were still elves. But dwarfs were still dwarfs.
Hammerson stumped around in front of Caradryan’s horse and extended a hand. As the horse drew close, the dwarf reached out and gave the animal a hard flick on the snout with one thick finger. The horse reared and snorted. Caradryan cursed and fought to control his steed. The whole column crashed to a halt behind him. White lions roared in consternation as horses whinnied and men shouted questions. Elves pelted forwards, bleeding out of the forest like ghosts. Hammerson ignored them, and the arrows that were soon pointed at him.
The runesmith crossed his brawny arms and smiled. ‘Seems like I do, lad. Now, before we go a step further, I think we ought to decide who’s going where, and who’s invited to what.’
‘Move aside, dwarf,’ Caradryan said. The air grew hazy around his head and shoulders, and Hammerson could see the faint outline of flames. Hammerson shook his head.
‘No.’ Behind Caradryan, he could see the Emperor watching the confrontation, and Gelt as well. The latter looked as if he intended to intervene, but the Emperor stopped him with a gesture. Hammerson felt his smile widen. Aye, leave it to the dwarfs, manling, he thought.
‘Move aside, or be moved,’ Caradryan growled. He slid from the saddle and approached Hammerson. Flames crawled across his armour and his flesh was growing translucent, his every pore shining with reddish light. Hammerson held his ground, though every instinct he had was screaming for him to run. The elf wasn’t really an elf any more, even as Gelt wasn’t human. There was a power there he didn’t understand, and didn’t want to. But that power was as nothing compared to the weight of the responsibility on Hammerson’s shoulders.
‘No. Whatever happens, from here on out, my people will be heard and will hear all that is said. We’ve earned that right, in blood and iron.’
‘You’ve earned nothing, dwarf,’ Caradryan said, in a voice like the hiss of flame across stone. ‘That you still live, after being allowed so far into the last, most sacred place of my people, should be enough, even for your greedy kind.’
‘If you think that, then you really don’t know much about us. Whatever is said, it likely concerns us, and I would hear it.’ The Zhufbarak, his warriors, his kin, were all that remained of Zhufbar. As far as he knew, they might be all that remained of the dwarf race. He had a responsibility to them, to see that their sacrifice wasn’t in vain. To see that their enemies, at least, remembered them. To see that, whatever else happened, they had a say in how they met their end.
‘I should have left you to die,’ Caradryan growled. Hammerson wondered how much of the anger in his voice was him, and how much was the power that now resided in him. Ungrim had been much the same, in those final days. Angry at everything, and nothing.
‘Would have been convenient for you, aye,’ Hammerson said. He cut his eyes to Gelt, and then added, ‘Without us to caution them, the manlings would fall right into whatever trap you’ve laid out for them. That’s why you don’t want us to hear it, eh?’
Caradryan frowned. ‘You know nothing,’ he snapped. Flames blazed to life around his clenched fists and crawled up his forearms. In their light Hammerson saw strange figures, part wood and part woman, slink through the trees, their bark claws flexing eagerly. More elves had arrived as well, these clad in the colours of the woods, and he felt a chill as he recognised the wild elves and dryads of the forest.
‘Well that’s why I want to hear all about it,’ Hammerson said. He thought of home, of the Black Water, and of the huge waterfall that cascaded down the side of the chasm in which the hold was nestled. If he were to be burned here, he wanted that to be his last thought.