“But that is what we are. We are the mothers calling Girdlegard to order. For the good of all,” the elf princess attempted to explain. She stood up as if to go. “As so often with mothers, their actions are not understood by their disobedient children. Not until many cycles have passed and the seed of New Girdlegard has sprouted and grown will our efforts be acknowledged. Then shall we, the atar, and the wise teachings of the eoil be recognized and praised.”
Gandogar pushed in front of her, growling angrily. “Where are you off to, Rejalin? Face up to your responsibility. You have killed dwarves and humans.”
She looked at him in surprise. “We have eradicated beings that were not pure enough to exist in the new order. They were the chaff.” Her bodyguards fanned out into a protective line to shield her.
“And why the firstlings? What had those dwarves done to hurt you?”
“You poor pitiful high king, with no idea what is happening in your own empire,” she said. “It was a thirdling colony. Dwarf-haters. My spies were watching them and decided to act before they could carry out more evil deeds against you and any dwarves worthy of life.” She smiled. “Only a few of you will remain, I fear. You have many dwarf-haters in your ranks. You do not understand.”
“She is madder than I am,” murmured Ireheart. “We must not let her escape, Scholar. She will destroy Girdlegard instead of vanquishing the unslayables and their bastard freaks.”
Rejalin did not listen but strode off toward the entrance. The human monarchs were too confused by the revelations regarding the elf princess to know what to do.
But Gandogar did not move aside; he laid his hand on his cudgel. “You will stay here and answer for your deeds,” he demanded in a determined voice.
Esdalan came to his side. “It is over, sister. I have warned Girdlegard about your evil plans and intrigues. You can never prevail in open warfare.”
“And now, Highness?” Mallen moved over from the side. “You have brought death to too many. Including Alvaro, whose fears I was foolish to disregard. He was wiser than I.”
“If you had believed him you would have died, too.” She surveyed him from head to toe. “As it seems you are all united with this unpleasant person from the Outer Lands against me, I have no choice but to open your eyes.”
“You surely do not intend to wage war?” Ortger could not take this in, any more than could Isika. “I beg you…”
The elf-woman stared. “It is not your place to beg anything of me, young man. Whoever gets the diamond first will decide what happens in Girdlegard.” She gave a sharp nod.
One of her bodyguards drew his sword as quick as lightning and made to thrust it into Esdalan’s body.
But Gandogar had not missed a thing. His cudgel flew out to deflect the blade. The elf, however, followed through and struck the king in the chest as he tried to protect Esdalan.
The elves and Rejalin hurried out of the assembly. Suddenly, one of her guards turned round with a rapid arm movement and something whirred toward Esdalan.
Ireheart grabbed up a small stool and hurled it to intercept the knife that had been thrown. It fell harmlessly in the corner. In the meantime the princess made her escape.
“Let her go,” said Mallen, seeing Goda setting out after her. “You would stand no chance against them.” He rushed out and they heard him giving hasty orders. Horses whinnied and riders cantered off. The prince returned to the assembly. “My men will cut them off and hold them.” He turned to Flagur. “We may be needing your warriors sooner than we thought. But not to attack the creatures of Tion.”
Isika stood up. “I know when I have made a mistake,” she admitted with humility. Recent events had changed her mind. “I would ask the dwarf people and Tungdil Goldhand to forgive me. The elves’ skill in deception is too perfect. Without you this unthinkable plan would never have come to light. For this my heartfelt thanks.” She looked at all the kings and queens. “I do not exaggerate when I say that once again we are indebted to the dwarves.”
Tungdil was supporting Gandogar, who for some reason was having trouble staying on his feet. Ireheart helped him. “Gandogar, what’s wrong? Did the sword get you in the ribs?” He checked the armor: there was a scratch and slight dent.
“That’s what I call good dwarf armor,” said Boindil proudly.
Gandogar’s eyes rolled back in his head. He tried to speak but his knees gave way and his arms hung limply by his sides.
“Quick, put him on the table,” instructed Lot-Ionan. “Let me see to him.”
They picked the high king up and stretched him out on the conference table. The dwarves took off his breastplate and the magus inspected where the impact had been.
“Nothing,” he said, “no fractures.” He touched a red mark underneath the ribs. “This area here is very vulnerable. It is possible to render someone unconscious with a single blow with one’s hand. It is possible that the blade had a similar effect through the armor.”
Tungdil saw a dark red spot appear on Gandogar’s neck. “Blood!” he exclaimed, touching the dwarf’s throat. At that moment he stopped breathing. Tungdil’s hands explored the thick beard until he found the wound. Directly under the chin his fingers came across a sharp piece of metal. The broken sword blade had bounced up and pierced his skin there. He parted the king’s jaws, fearing the worst.
“He’s dying!” shouted Ireheart in horror, looking to Lot-Ionan. But when the magus began a spell, Tungdil stopped him.
“It is over,” he said darkly and showed them Gandogar’s mouth where the sword fragment had pierced right up into his skull. The high king’s brain was irrevocably destroyed.
“By Vraccas,” whispered a horrified Ireheart. He hung his head; Goda was doing likewise.
Tungdil shut the dead man’s mouth and closed his eyes. “Put his armor back on,” he ordered. “High King Gandogar Silverbeard, of the clan of the Silver Beards of Goimdil’s fourthlings, is on his way to the eternal smithy back into the hands of Vraccas, his creator. Take his body to the Brown Range where he shall find a resting place surrounded by his own clan and the majestic mountain peaks.”
“The elves have slain the high king of the dwarves.” Mallen looked at Esdalan. “This will not end well.”
“Not the elves. It was the atar,” said Tungdil, looking at the blood on his fingers. The death of his monarch suddenly made everything much worse.
“It will be hard to explain that difference to the tribes making their way here, and the dwarves already at Toboribor,” predicted Ireheart. “Both have pointy ears.” He looked over at Esdalan. “Saving your presence.”
A soldier entered. He stared open-mouthed at the body of the high king. “Prince Mallen, the elf princess and her escort have escaped. They have vanished into thin air. Her soldiers have gone off to the caves.”
“When was that?”
“Just after the beginning of the meeting. We thought they were following your orders.”
Mallen uttered a curse. “Rejalin guessed she would be unmasked.”
Lot-Ionan raised his arms. “Terrible though the death of Gandogar is, we have no time to mourn. The elves will try to find the unslayables and snatch the diamond.” He glanced at Tungdil. “Go and tell the dwarves what has happened. Anger makes a dwarf invincible. Speed is of the essence. Vital if we are to survive.” Then, to Mallen: “Send all your warriors into the caves and follow the dwarves. Guard all the entrances. Not a single elf must escape.” Finally he turned to Flagur: “It is your task to defend the caves from without. We are expecting a huge army of atar.”
Flagur nodded. “It will be an honor. We are experienced in stopping the broka and destroying them. Should it be necessary.” He changed into a different language and his companions withdrew. “Shall we have the stone, Lot-Ionan?” he asked.
“Yes,” spoke the magus without hesitating. “It has already caused enough trouble in Girdlegard. Take it and put it where at least it may do some good.”