The Swordsheath Scroll

20

By the time the heavy snows began on the slopes north of Tharkas, there was almost no trace of the sprawling city that once had stood there. Every useable stone and timber had been carried away, and the remaining ashes and rubble were plowed into the ground. In the spring, new grass and seedlings would sprout there. Within a few seasons, no trace would be left of the human settlement that had dominated the northern Kharolis Mountains.

Among the thousands of dwarves involved in the project, the work became known simply as "The Tidying," because Derkin the Lawgiver had referred to it so.

The task of burying the Klanath mines was a larger project, but the dwarves tackled it with enthusiasm. Many of them, like their leader, had once been slaves in these mines, and found great satisfaction in obliterating them. The shaft mines, high on the slopes, were caved in and sealed with stone. Then hundreds of delvers with climbing-slings and stone-drills went aloft above the pits. Working in conditions that would have been unthinkable for humans, the hardy mountain people began a series of "punches" in the stone face of the great peak. Master delvers went first, to "reckon" the stone-testing it, tasting it, marking its contours and slants, its seams and cracks, and noting the natural flaws in the granite. They patterned a half-mile's length of mountain with their scratches and marks, their chips and gouges, all the directional runes of delving.

Drillers followed, in teams of two, working on precarious platforms all along the length of the reckoning. From below, the platforms with their two dwarves each looked like a hundred tiny dots, high on the sheer stone. But when they began to punch-heavy sledges ringing on steel drills-the echoes of their efforts were a chorus that could be heard for miles around.

And joining the chorus was the ring of axes, as Neidar foresters worked in the nearby forests to the north. Day after day, they selected, cut, and hauled the timbers from which dwarven woodsmiths and binders were fashioning a fleet of sturdy sleds to be used as stone-boats. The dismantling of the palace compound, and of the partially constructed new fortress which Lord Kane's slaves had been building when the dwarves attacked, had taken only three weeks. Now, with several inches of good snow on the ground, the building stones were being hauled away into Tharkas Pass. As full winter closed on the lands north of Tharkas, the only structure still erect there was Lord Kane's palace. The tall structure served now as headquarters for Derkin's army and for the dismantling of Klanath.

With hundreds of horses, oxen, bison, and elk harnessed to the new sleds, dwarven teamsters were now busily transferring everything except the palace itself to the border of Kal-Thax, four miles away.

The work of hauling the stone was enhanced, the teamsters were forced to admit, by a bargain that Derkin had made-a bargain that most of the dwarves still could hardly believe. Among the countless hundreds of slaves they had found in Klanath there were no dwarves, but there were some of just about every other race the dwarves had ever heard of. Most of the slaves were humans, some were goblins, a few were elves, and two were ogres. On Derkin's orders, all of the slaves-even the goblins and ogres-had been freed and told to go away. But at the last moment, Derkin had called the ogres back. Then, while the Ten hovered near with drawn weapons and hundreds of other dwarves looked on with awe and disbelief, the Lawgiver had calmly invited the hulking pair into his chambers in the palace for a talk.

Their names were Goath and Ganat. Now they worked happily alongside the dwarven teamsters, hauling building stones into Tharkas Pass.

Only Derkin, the ogres, and the Ten knew exactly what had been discussed in that private meeting of the Master of Kal-Thax and two of his people's oldest ancestral enemies. But it was widely rumored among the Chosen that Derkin had made them a deal-fifty milk cows and a good bull from Lord Kane's herds in return for a winter's work.

It was known that the Lawgiver had given the ogres one law by which to govern themselves during their service. Derkin had told Goath and Ganat that if they so much as laid hands on any dwarf, other than to assist him, Derkin would personally tear their hearts out.

The ogres themselves verified that last condition of their employment, and there was no doubt that they truly believed that Derkin would do exactly what he said. The fact that each of them was more than twice as tall as Derkin seemed to matter not at all to them. From the time they came out of Derkin's chambers, it was clear that Goath and Ganat respected-and were somewhat afraid of-their employer.

At first, many of the dwarves were horrified at the idea of working alongside ogres. Dwarves and ogres had always been enemies. Ogres were dangerous, and never to be trusted. But as the weeks passed, the Chosen Ones realized that Derkin had made a good bargain. Each of the huge creatures could move as much stone in a day as two or three of the sled teams driven by dwarves.

The Lawgiver's only comment about the matter-a comment repeated throughout the encampment-was, "Ogres aren't necessarily bad. Dull, of course, but not bad. And they don't stink like goblins."

Goath and Ganat were still shunned by most of the dwarves. At night, the ogres made their own little fire at some distance from the dwarven shelters and ate and slept in isolation. Only Derkin approached them freely, though two or three times, when the ovens had been fired, Helta Gray wood had led a party of women out to the ogres' fire, delivering fresh bread to go with their meat.

Now as midwinter approached, Derkin Lawgiver-he had accepted the name, since everyone suddenly seemed determined to call him that-climbed to the top of the highest tower of the palace and took a long look around at the work that had been done here and the work that remained. His gaze lingered on a distant group of dwarves working with picks and levers on the wide, stone slope just below the entrance to Tharkas Pass. The monument stone was complete-a ten-foot-high, rectangular obelisk of black quartz with the "fourth law of Kal-Thax" etched deeply into each of its faces. The workers out there had dug a hole in the stone of the slope, a socket into which the base of the law stone would be set.

"We will finish here in the spring," Derkin said. "Then we return to Kal-Thax."

"Back to Stoneforge?" Tap Tolec asked. With his broken arm healed, the broad-shouldered warrior had returned to his position as First of the Ten.

Derkin shook his head. "Some of us, but not to stay. Not for a while. We still have work to do at the border."

Tap glanced at the Hylar, wondering what Derkin Lawgiver had in mind now. But he didn't ask. Instead, he listened to the distant chorus of stone-drills high on the peak, to the sounds of axes in the nearby forest, the sounds of hooves and sled runners on the hard-packed snow below, and to the constant, never-ending chorus of voices-the voices of thousands of dwarves-boisterous, cheerful, and thoroughly at work. "You're right about our people," he said. "We don't idle well."

"It's our nature." Derkin nodded.

"I remember how Thorbardin sounded when we went there to try to get their help," Tap said, frowning. "The voices there-most of them, anyway-sounded sullen. The whole place reeked of anger and suspicion. It was an unhappy place. I didn't like it much, though I've thought that I might like to live there someday."

Derkin turned, gazing at his friend with unreadable, curious eyes. "Why?" he asked.

"I don't know," Tap confessed. "I've never lived beneath stone. I know some of my ancestors were Theiwar, but my people have always been Neidar, never Holgar. We have lived under the sun, not the stone. And yet, sometimes I feel a need to be… enclosed. As though maybe I really am Holgar at heart."

"I often have the same feeling," Derkin confided. "Some of my ancestors have been Neidar, but most were Holgar. I was born in Thorbardin. I left because I didn't like what Thorbardin had become, but there are times when I feel I would go back… if I could change things there."

"Change things?" Tap growled. "Those people are so set in their ways, you couldn't budge them with a prybar. How many angry fights did we see, just in the time we were there?"

"Dozens." Derkin shrugged. "They have nothing better to do. They have made it that way. But our people were contentious, too, when there was nothing to do except watch that wall in Tharkas. That's why I tried to send most of them home."

"They're not contentious now." Tap gestured, indicating the thousands of busy dwarves, everywhere one might look. "They're happy. I'm happy, too, except that sometimes I dream of having good stone over my head. Maybe I am Holgar, at heart… like you, Derkin."

Derkin dismissed the conversation with a shrug and headed down the spiral stairs of the tower. He had his own work to do-a thousand details of command, a thousand things to think about, to decide. Ever since his days of slavery in the Klanath pits, people had thrust leadership at him, forced it upon him, conspired to make him be their leader. At first, the idea had been repugnant. But now, he found that he enjoyed the challenges of leadership: to command an army, to plan a settlement like Stoneforge, to negotiate a treaty, to orchestrate the building of a wall-or the demolition of a human city-to think a thing through, to decide a course of action and then lead his people in doing what he had decided. In many ways, it was the hardest work imaginable, to lead. The responsibility he carried was heavier than any stone his workers were wrestling onto sleds. But somehow it had become a comfortable weight.

He recalled a thing he had found in some old scroll, a bit of advice from some forgotten Hylar scribe of long ago: 'To live is to find the thing that one does best, and then to do it thoroughly, and always. To do less than this is to never live at all."

Tap's comments about Thorbardin had brought back old memories and old feelings. For a moment, it had seemed as though the Theiwar-Neidar was speaking his own thoughts. He didn't like Thorbardin. He was disgusted with the ways of Thorbardin life. He had left Thorbardin, never to return. And yet, in his heart, Derkin Winterseed… Derkin Hammerhand… Derkin Lawgiver was as much a part of Thorbardin as the undermountain fortress was of him.

More often than he would admit, Derkin knew the feelings Tap had described. Tap Tolec had always been Nei-dar, but at heart he was Holgar. Derkin had tried to be Neidar, but at heart he remained Holgar. Sometimes he longed to return to Thorbardin, to live again within the living stone.

If only the people there would live as dwarves should live. If only they would live!

At the foot of the tower stairs Helta Graywood waited for him, bringing his midday meal. She fell into step beside him as he walked toward the Great Hall. On impulse, Derkin said, "You've been inside Thorbardin, Helta. Could you live there?"

"I can live anywhere you live," she said matter-of-factly. "When are you going to marry me?"

"But Thorbardin is a sullen, idle place," he pointed out, ignoring her question.

"It wouldn't be," she said, "if you were in command there."

With a snort, Derkin crossed to Lord Kane's throne and sat down. The chair of state was the only item of human furniture that remained in the palace now, and even it was changed. Derkin had taken a saw to the thing, cutting its base down to a height more comfortable for a dwarf. Helta handed him his platter of meat and bread, then perched on a bench beside him with her own.

Derkin ate some of his food, then looked at her. The bandage was gone from her cheek now, and the scar there was as evident as he had known it would be. But, oddly, it did not make her ugly. If anything, it distinguished her. She was still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Tearing his eyes from her, he went back to his dinner. 'That's enough talk about Thorbardin," he said gruffly. "Thorbardin doesn't have a single commander. It never has had a single leader."

"Maybe that's what's wrong with it," the girl said. "Maybe it needs a king."

"Well, I'm not a king," Derkin snapped. "And I don't want to talk about Thorbardin anymore."

"You brought it up, not me," she reminded him. She said no more about Thorbardin, but a sly smile played at her lips when he looked away, a smile that seemed to say, "You aren't my husband, Derkin Whatever, but one day you will be. And who's to say what else you might one day be?"

When all of the stone from the two compounds had been removed to the border of Kal-Thax-huge, neat stacks of cut stone now stood in Tharkas Pass, completely hiding Derkin's Wall-the Lawgiver set his demolishers to work on the palace itself. Through the final weeks of winter, the'towers came down. The entire palace seemed to shrink day by day. As sleeping quarters disappeared, temporary shelters were erected outside. And through all the activity, the distant ring of stone-drilling continued to echo from the peak above.

Then, abruptly and oddly, the weather changed. On a day that had begun clear and sunny, with a northerly breeze carrying promise of spring, it changed. Dark, heavy-looking clouds appeared in the west, and the wind changed to the same direction. By midday, the dark clouds were overhead, blocking the sunlight, turning the day to twilight. Then the wind died to stillness. The dense cover of clouds seemed to settle atop the high peaks, creeping lower and lower as the hours passed. After a time, the ring of stone-drills was stilled, and the delvers came down from above.

"The fog is dense up there," the chief of delvers told Derkin. "We can't see to work."

By the last murky light of evening, the dark clouds floated just overhead, low enough that a sling-stone, flung by a curious dwarf, could reach them. The stone disappeared into murk, then reappeared as it fell. The air was still, and heavy with chill vapors.

Hour by hour, the strange clouds lowered. Beyond the flickering illumination of the dwarves' fires, the night was as dark as any night anyone could remember.

By midnight, the cloud cover had settled to the ground, and dense mist was all around. Even the Daergar were blind in such conditions.

Derkin was awakened from brief sleep by Tap Tolec and the rest of the Ten. They carried hooded candles, but the mists outside had crept inside, and the candlelight was muted and eerie.

"We don't like this weather," Tap said when Derkin was awake. "There's something wrong about it."

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Derkin glared at his friend. "You woke me up to talk about the weather? I can't do anything about the weather. What do you want?"

"It isn't right," Tap insisted. "We've all seen spring storms in these climes, but this isn't one of them."

'Then maybe it's a late winter storm."

"It isn't that, either," Tap insisted. "Put your boots on and come outside. Something's wrong."

"You and your Theiwar intuition," Derkin growled. But he pulled on his boots, wrapped his cloak around him, picked up his hammer, and followed Tap along one of the last hallways in the shrinking palace. Like his sleeping cubicle, the hall was murky with chill vapors. Tap pushed a door open and stepped outside, Derkin and the others following. It was very dark, and very still. The fitful light of the hooded candles carried no more than a few feet.

"It's dark and foggy." Derkin shrugged. "So what?"

"Just wait a minute," Tap said. "Wait and watch."

A minute passed, and then another, and suddenly there was flickering light around them. It was gone in an instant. Tap said, "There. Thaf s whaf s worrying us."

"Lightning?" Derkin puzzled. "Since when are you afraid of-"

"Sh!" Tap hushed him. "Listen."

Patiently, Derkin stood and listened. The others did likewise.

After a full minute, Tap Tolec said, "That's what I mean."

"What?" Derkin demanded. "I didn't hear anything."

"Neither did we," the First explained. "It's been like this for an hour now. Lightning, but no thunder."

Again there was brief, flaring light in the fog, and again it was followed by only silence. Derkin had a sudden intuition of his own and shuddered. "Magic," he muttered. "If s some kind of magic."

"Thaf s what we think, too," Talon Oakbeard said. "But who's doing it? And what's it for?"

"Find a drummer," Derkin ordered. "Alert everyone. It will be morning soon. Maybe this fog will lift then. When it does, I want everyone ready… for whatever is going on out there. Armor, gear, and weapons. And perimeter defense positions, as soon as we can see well enough to move around. If magic is being worked, there's usually a reason." Taking one of the candles, he strode back to his quarters and got dressed.

The candle's muted glow gleamed on the polished breastplate he strapped on, and glistened on his mirror-like horned helm. The kilt he wore was of studded leather, and his cloak was once again bright scarlet. For the taking of Klanath, dark tones had seemed appropriate to the Chosen Ones. But after the city had been taken, they soon reverted to their bright colors. The somber shades then had become depressing.

"If s our nature," Derkin mused to himself, slinging his shield and hammer at his shoulders. "Dwarven nature. We express ourselves with color, the way elves do with their songs."

The fog did not lift with the coming of morning. It simply rolled back as though it had never been there. One moment, the world was a gray, closed-in place. The next moment there was a final, flickering flash of that strange lightning, and the mist began to recede, rolling away on all sides, opening an ever-wider field of vision. Under cold, high clouds in a leaden sky, dwarves scurried everywhere, hurrying from their sleeping shelters and night posts to their assigned places on the perimeters of what had been Klanath.

And as the fogs rolled into the distance all around, Derkin Lawgiver and everyone else could see what the mist had been sent to cover. All around the dwarven encampment were ranks and legions of human soldiers. There were thousands of them, horse battalions and footmen, pikemen and lancers, companies of archers and bolt-men-a full, mighty army in position to attack from all sides. And above each unit were the banners of Daltigoth, of the Empire of Ergoth, of the troops of the Emperor Quivalin Soth V.

Derkin turned full around, trying to count an enemy beyond counting, looking for escape routes that were not there. "Rust!" he muttered. "We're outnumbered. And we're surrounded!"