Slin spoke what was on his mind. “Is the ax trying to warn us about him?” He frowned. “How could he be an enemy to our folk?”
“I knew it,” growled Balyndar, packing Keenfire away again. “I never trusted that dwarf. Just because he claims to be Tungdil Goldhand…”
“Stop it, the lot of you! Brains like a load of gnomes!” Ireheart interrupted. “The blade might be worried about the famulus.” Or me, he added to himself. He did not want them suspecting anything about himself or his friend. “I wouldn’t trust him as much as I trust my Scholar.”
“Hmm,” said Slin, uncertain now.
The three of them had something to eat and shared out the water rations, while each of them examined his own thoughts.
Ireheart looked over at Tungdil as he slept: The face, the deep lines, the golden eye patch and the long brown hair. I’m not going to lose my trust in you. Keenfire is warning us of a different danger. It can’t mean you.
A slim silhouette appeared at the cave entrance, a spear in his left hand.
“Black-eyes,” yelled Ireheart, leaping to his feet and brandishing his crow’s beak. “The Zhadar sentry must have gone blind! I’ll…”
“Slow down, Boindil Doubleblade,” the alf said, striding forward into the light of the campfire. The armor incorporated into his body was unique: Aiphaton! “I am not here to cause you any harm but to inform you what is about to take place.”
Tungdil was on his feet, but looking relaxed. “I have been expecting you, emperor.”
“Oh, you have, have you?” grumbled Ireheart, thumping his crow’s beak down at his feet. “So how did he find us?”
Aiphaton pointed to the entrance. “My scouts reported a small group approaching the Blue Mountains from the west. I guessed it would be you, so I followed your tracks.” He swept his gaze over the assembled company. “Is this all you are?”
“Yes. We lost many Zhadar in battle and the Black Squadron did not join us,” answered Tungdil. “Have you heard anything from Hargorin Deathbringer?”
“No. He’s not with us.” Aiphaton turned his slender alf face to Tungdil. “The attack starts tomorrow. Word has got round that the rebellions in the west of Girdlegard have spread to Gauragar and to my other possessions. It’s said that the thirdlings have left their positions and have withdrawn to their strongholds in the Black Mountains. The alfar want to open the gates to allow reinforcements in, to get the situation under control before the uprising turns into a prolonged civil war.” He sat down, because the low ceiling was making it uncomfortable to stand. “Is it true that Lohasbrand is dead?”
“Yes. And has been for a long time.” Tungdil gave a concise account of their recent experiences, not hiding the fact that they had killed one of the Dson Aklan.
“But there are still two of the triplets alive.” Aiphaton looked at Mallenia, who was cursing under her breath. “Tirigon survived the shot and has been convalescing back in Dson Bhara. I shall kill him for you, Princess. It will be on my way…” he said amiably. “But I have heard nothing more of Firusha. She is apparently at the bottom of the lake.”
“May Elria ensure she sinks further down than the heavi est of stones, to be eaten up by fishes,” murmured Ireheart. “Oh yes, and may Lakepride crash down on her while we’re at it.”
Aiphaton went into detail about his planned attack. It sounded worryingly simple. “We storm them. From three sides at once.”
“He’s got two famuli left for his defense. We killed one of his other two and another is on our side. They’ll bombard you with spells.” Tungdil took a seat opposite the alf. “You’ve got fifty thousand with you?”
Aiphaton nodded. “And if we get only ten thousand of them into the tunnel system, that’s all right with me, as you know. I shall be leading the attack,” he said, his left hand against his armor. “And the spells they cast on me I shall catch and send back, as I did before when fighting Lot-Ionan.”
“They are more likely to send their magic against your warriors.” Tungdil looked at him. “Won’t they take flight when they see the attack is bound to fail?”
“I have told them we must act swiftly if we want to escape death. And alfar can be extremely fast,” said Aiphaton calmly.
“No wonder, with those long legs.” Ireheart played with his beard. “Anyone could run fast with legs like that. But you’ll bang your heads in those low-ceilinged tunnels!”
The emperor grinned at Ireheart. “Still the old Boindil!”
Tungdil had come up with a new concern. “Your soldiers are sufficiently fired up to get into the tunnels. But then you’ll have no control over them. What if they find Lot-Ionan and kill him? You know we need the magus alive.”
“I’ve told them we need him alive to open the gate for us. That’s incentive enough.”
Ireheart cleared his throat. “What if the incentive is so great that they actually do it? How are we going to get the magus out of the clutches of ten thousand alfar?” He stroked his crow’s beak. “Now, don’t think I’m a coward, emperor of the black-eyes. I like a challenge and I like to have a good few opponents. But does it have to be that many? And ones with those… skills?”
“I’ve just been thinking about that,” Tungdil admitted, tapping his left forefinger against his eye patch with an audible clink.
“I’ve made arrangements to ensure that the majority of them will not survive the fighting. There are substances toxic enough to poison a whole lake with one drop.” The alf looked at Tungdil. “The water supplies for my warriors have been treated with this poison. They will all die after two orbits, either in the desert or in the Blue Mountains. That will be the ideal moment for you to get the magus from me.”
“That’s good news!” Ireheart was relieved. Clearly, Aiphaton had had the same idea as Mallenia. “And then you’ll be off to Dson Bhara on your own to eradicate the northern alfar before disappearing forever?”
Aiphaton was amused by the way the dwarves reacted to his plan. He was not offended by the question. “Yes, Boindil Doubleblade. That is what I shall do. I shall leave, taking an evil away from Girdlegard.”
“That’s going to be quite an orbit.” Ireheart rubbed his hands, looking forward to it. “Then, after all that, off to the north!”
The alf stood up and nodded to them. “I shall go back and tell my soldiers that I have encountered and killed some traveling merchants. That way you won’t be pursued by my forces.” He raised his hand in leave-taking before going out of the cave.
“Mallenia scored a bull’s eye with her idea about poison.” Ireheart was glad that the alf had gone. “We’ll get Lot-Ionan sooner or later, Scholar.”
Tungdil nodded. “Indeed.” He put his hand on his friend’s back, his brown eye warm. “Get some rest, my friend. You need your sleep just as much as Rodario and his two women.”
There’s absolutely no trace of eye-swirl or sparks. Ireheart suppressed a yawn. “Yes. But don’t forget to wake me. Putting the Zhadar on watch together is not a good idea. We’ve just seen how they let the most dangerous long-ears in the whole of Girdlegard walk in,” he said, exaggerating wildly. “The legendary Zhadar! Ha! We’ve got two of them left. And what did for the others? Magic creatures.”
“The only things able to defeat the Invisibles,” guessed Tungdil. He considered his options. “I think we should keep them both safely out of the action.”
“What? I can’t be hearing right, Scholar!”
“Troublemaker and Growler, as you call them, know all the secrets of the Dson Aklan,” he said with emphasis. “If Aiphaton were to fail, their knowledge would be vitally important in helping us to defeat the black-eyes. Only then will Girdlegard find peace.”
Ireheart looked dismayed. “Does that mean it’s my job to look after Troublemaker and Growler, and not the other way around?”
Tungdil made as if to applaud and then slipped back down onto his blanket.
“If we go on like this, I’ll be drinking from an alf flask of my own free will.” Ireheart stuck his finger in his ear crossly and stomped off to tell Balyndar and Slin the outcome of their strategy discussion.