In his dreams, Derkin saw a time when the Neidar of Kal-Thax could live securely, where and how they chose, knowing that they had champions to come to their aid if they were threatened. The Chosen Ones would be those champions. They would be the army of Kal-Thax. They would serve the dwarven nation as the Holgar-the people of Thorbardin-had once promised to.
He had little hope that Thorbardin would ever reverse itself, ever again become the vital, central fortress of Kal-Thax. Not enough of the people now living in the subterranean fortress had the spirit their ancestors had once had. There were a few Dunbarth Ironthumbs and people like the Daewar leader Jeron Redleather and his son Luster, but only a few, it seemed.
If Kal-Thax was to be restored as a realm, it would be up to the Chosen Ones to do it.
But this silence was unnerving. Not only had Lord Kane not come with his armies to test the walled border in force… he hadn't done anything at all.
Each evening's breezes, coming through the great pass, were cooler than those the evening before. Each morning now, there was frost. Winter came quickly in these mountains, and it would come soon. Derkin Hammerhand chafed at the silence, and at the waiting.
And then, four weeks to the day after the defense of the wall, the drums told of people coming. A small party, riding toward the border.
When they came into sight, Derkin went to the battlements. The people coming were human soldiers, wearing the colors of the empire and carrying the banners of Klanath. But there were only a dozen of them. As they neared, Derkin recognized the one in the lead. It was the officer he had given his message to, the one named Tulien Gart. With sudden decision, Derkin hurried down the ramp, opened the gate, and went out to meet him. The Ten, as always, went with him, but he ordered everyone else to stay.
Tulien Gart saw the dwarves come out from the gate and halted his escort. Then, holding a hand up, palm out, he rode forward alone. Six paces from the group of dwarves, he drew rein. "I am Tulien Gart," he said. "I have words for Hammerhand."
The dwarf in the lead stepped forward a single pace. Gart recognized the polished helm and the scarlet cape, and now he could see the face that went with them-a wide, stern dwarven face with dark, backswept beard and eyes that seemed to look right through him.
"I know you, Tulien Gart," the dwarf said, in the deep voice the man remembered. "I am Hammerhand." .
"I carried your words to my prince, Lord Kane," Gart said. "He has sent me with his response. Lord Kane directs me to say that he does not recognize your claim to the lands bestowed upon him by His Imperial Majesty, but neither does he wish to expend his forces and his energies in needless combat. He therefore suggests a truce."
"A truce?" Hammerhand scowled, and Gart noticed that the Ten behind him raised their shields slightly, as though preparing to draw their weapons. But Hammerhand eased them with a gesture. "What sort of truce does Lord Kane suggest?"
"Lord Kane asks your word of honor that you and all your people will remain south of your… ah… border, and make no move against Klanath, until such time as Lord Kane and Hammerhand can negotiate their respective claims and possibly arrive at a peaceful solution."
"I will gladly speak with Lord Kane," Hammerhand said. "The ownership of Kal-Thax is not open to negotiation, but there may be agreements by which Lord Kane can be compensated-through trade, for instance, or an alliance."
"May I tell Lord Kane that he has your word of honor that you and your people will not come beyond your border, pending negotiations?"
"What does Lord Kane offer in return for such a pledge?"
"He makes the same promise," Gart said. "His Highness offers you his pledge, upon his honor, that no force will be brought against you, pending negotiations."
"And when will such negotiations take place?"
"Unfortunately," Gart replied with a shrug, "not until spring. Lord Kane has received orders from His Imperial Majesty that will keep him occupied through the winter."
"Orders to build a new fortress in Klanath?"
Gart blinked, then smiled slightly. "Ah, you know about that, do you? Yes, that is part of his task. I can tell you no more."
"If s none of our concern," Hammerhand noted.
"But for you to know of it, you must have spies watching the city. And to see the city, they must be north of here. Lord Kane's request is that your people no longer come north of the border… which you yourself have designated."
"I will stand by my pledge," Hammerhand said, "as long as he stands by his." Hammerhand waved the Ten back and strode toward the mounted man. When he was only a few feet from him, he looked up into his face, studying him carefully. "Can I trust your Lord Kane in this, Commander Gart? Do you trust him?"
Gart hesitated. He felt as though the dwarf were seeing right into his head. For an instant, he suspected magic. But he had never heard of a dwarf using magic.
"I'll ask my question another way, Commander," Hammerhand said. "Do you believe that Lord Kane means to stand by his pledge to me?"
"Yes," the man answered. "I believe he does. He said he would."
Hammerhand nodded. "Thank you," he said. "I think you do not truly trust the man you work for. But I believe that you expect him to keep his pledge, for whatever reason. It is enough. Tell Lord Kane that he has the pledge of Hammerhand, and that I have his. We will negotiate in the spring. Oh, and I will withdraw my observers from the peaks. It really is none of our concern what you people do over there, as long as you don't bother us."
The dwarf turned and walked away, not looking back. For a moment, Tulien Gart watched him, wondering what sort of mind could seem so perceptive, yet so readily trust one who hated him, as he must know Lord Kane di"d. Would Hammerhand really pull his spies back, away from Klanath? If I were him, Gart wondered, would I?
The commander sincerely hoped that Lord Kane would keep his promise. Yet the dwarf was right. Sakar Kane was not a man he himself would trust. As Hammerhand approached his waiting guards, Gart turned his mount and rode away, back to his escort. By the time the dwarves had disappeared behind their wall, the emissaries were filing northward, down the pass.
Calan Silvertoe was aghast when he heard of the pledge Derkin had given. "You aren't really going to call in the sentinels," he demanded. "You'll leave us blind."
"It was a fair request," Derkin said. "By our own declaration, our watchers are four miles beyond our boundary. They are trespassing." He turned to his nearest drummer. "Recall the sentinels," he ordered.
The drums began to speak, but still Calan ranted. "You're making a mistake!" he shouted, his nose inches from Derkin's. "You can't trust humans!"
"If I expect Lord Kane to keep his pledge, then I must keep mine," the Hylar said flatly. "Besides, there's no reason for him to betray us. Winter is coming. This pass would be of no use to him until spring, even if he held it."
With the old one-arm and the Ten trailing after him, the Master of Tharkas Pass strode through his encampment. Everywhere were sullen, irritable dwarves. Thousands of them, and everywhere Derkin looked he saw the signs of their discontent. There were broken noses, blackened eyes, bandaged knuckles, and various, assorted bruises. For a few weeks they had been idle, and they looked as though they had been in a pitched battle.
"Boredom," Derkin muttered. "Our worst enemy is simple boredom. It is our nature." Turning to his escorts, he ordered, "Get the Chosen Ones packed and ready to travel. I want this pass cleared as soon as all the sentinels are in."
"Where are we going?" Calan asked, bewildered.