As part of the dwarf nation, the colony under Ice Mountain was allowed to take action to address any threat to their realm. It was because of this that the Council of Elders had met several times in recent weeks, even issuing orders to enlist all able fighters into a standing army. A request had been sent to the nearest colony, which was located under White Wolf Mountain to the west, beyond Burthorpe and Taverley. Two hundred additional dwarf warriors were expected to arrive, travelling via the secret passages beneath the earth, away from any spying eyes.
The dwarf council knew of the destruction of the monastery, the siege of Falador, and the burning of Taverley. They knew how the chaos dwarfs had stolen their own technology and delivered it into Sulla’s hands. Such acts were not to be tolerated.
As the council meeting continued, all eyes turned to Kara-Meir and her companions, for she was known to them as a fearsome fighter and an equally skilled smith.
“What say you, Kara-Meir?” an old dwarf croaked from his chair on the plinth. “Should we intervene?”
Kara stepped confidently toward the chairman, and spoke the words she had rehearsed in her head.
“The walls of Falador were not built to withstand such weapons,” she announced. “If Falador falls, then the whole of Asgarnia will become enslaved to Sulla, and he will have far more resources to use in future conquests. How long will he ignore the lure of the wealth that comes from these mines? With the help of the chaos dwarfs he will come for you. He will know your ways and your secrets, and you will be enslaved here to mine coal for his furnaces and gold for his treasury.”
She paused to allow her words to sink in, then continued.
“If we act today, then victory can be ours. If we delay, then Falador will fall, and we will follow.”
A murmur ran through the chamber. Unused to being the centre of attention, she had to force herself to keep her head held high and her expression stern, to show the dwarfs she was sincere in what she had said.
Yet not everyone agreed, and a small cry of disapproval sounded. The chairman called to the leader of the dissenters, asking him to explain his outburst.
“If we fight, then what will the humans of Falador give to us in gratitude?” he demanded. “The earth under their city is rich in resources, but for many years they have opposed any attempt by our kind to exploit them. I say that our efforts and our blood should be rewarded-in an agreement with the city to open our own mine there!”
“And why should we care if Sulla dominates the surface?” a second voice cried. “More likely he will wish to trade with us, rather than engage in another costly war.”
A number of voices rose in heated debate. Leaning in close to Theodore, Kara quietly exchanged a few words with him. Then, as the argument threatened to grow out of control, she held up her hand.
“Listen to me!” she said as the voices eventually stilled. “My companion, Squire Theodore, is highly regarded by the Knights of Falador. He has the ear of Sir Amik himself. He has pledged to recommend your proposal to the highest authority, but this will only be possible if Falador can be saved. You know enough of the knights to know that his word is his bond.”
The members of the council exchanged uncertain glances. Kara knew they needed more.
“Sulla would not trade with you, even if you offered him the fairest bargain. He is a conqueror, a worshipper of chaos! He will permit no other government to exist under his rule-and you will find yourselves slaves to the chaos dwarfs, who will give him whatever he needs to further the goals of their deity.” Kara felt her face redden from the effort of her debate and she had to calm her rising anger before she could continue.
“I know this because I know Sulla,” she added grimly. “He is the man who destroyed my home and killed my family.”
In the sudden silence, an old dwarf priest stepped toward Kara, his quarterstaff bearing his weight and his free hand stretched out to guide him, for he was blind. The reverence the council showed him prevented any from shouting out. All waited for what he had to say.
“Guthix weeps, for the world is in flux and the balance is threatened” he said. “You, Kara-Meir, have been touched by the gods. It is you who must seek his guidance.”
A murmur of surprise ran through the chamber. Never had a human been selected to attempt such a task.
Kara’s eyes widened at the thought. Before she could speak, he continued.
“If you have been chosen by Guthix to lead us, then you must prove your worth. You know how Guthix favours the chosen-his words are spoken in the smith’s hammer and his wisdom is revealed to us by the wielder’s skill.”
Kara knew what the priest referred to. Dwarf culture prized the skill of metalworking above all others, and in dark times it was customary for a leader to demonstrate his skill and thus reveal the will of Guthix.
She had no choice.
“What is the task?” she asked, aware that Falador’s fate now depended on her.
“The amulet of King Alvis’s queen must be repaired. For centuries it has been kept in our sacred care, waiting to reveal the mind of Guthix in a time of great adversity. The hands of a leader must be deft and skilful, for a leader must be a healer and not a destroyer.”
The priest bowed and turned away, his proclamation complete.
Murmurs rippled throughout the chamber. None could doubt the ramifications of what had been said. Finally the chairman raised a hand and spoke loudly, quieting the assembly.
“Go now, Kara-Meir,” he said, “and prepare for your task. When the priests are ready you shall be called. If Guthix so wishes, then you shall lead our armies.”
SIXTY-TWO
At dawn, the southern gate of Falador opened and several wagons rolled out, escorted by thirty men.
“I hope this works, Sir Tiffy,” Ebenezer said as he watched them go.
“One way or the other,” came the reply, “we find out which of the two remaining suspects it is.”
“You are certain Sir Pallas is not the traitor?” Ebenezer asked.
“The traitor who slew Sir Balladish had to be able-bodied. I have watched Sir Pallas discreetly, arranging some tasks for which he has needed to use his strength” Sir Tiffy shook his head. “The old man is not strong enough to be the traitor, and he could not have defeated Sir Balladish. That’s not the case with the other two suspects however-even with one arm, Sir Erical is still a strong man.”
“So you have leaked the story of the gold to just one of them?”
“That is correct” the knight said. “If the wagons are attacked, we shall know who the traitor is.”
Perhaps at the cost of the unfortunate men who drive them, Ebenezer thought, but he held his tongue.
Their attention was drawn by a cry from the sentry above the gate. A hundred Kinshra horsemen had appeared on the crest of a hill, levelling their lances before charging down toward the wagons.
“Send out your riders!” Sir Tiffy barked to Captain Ingrew.
For the second time, the southern gate opened and two hundred armed city guards rode out to defend the wagons.
The skirmish was short and brutal. The Kinshra warriors had expected an escort, but as they rode toward the wagons the covers were ripped off, revealing a dozen crossbowmen in each. Their powerful bolts penetrated armour and felled horse and man alike.
Then, as the surviving Kinshra lancers reached the wagons, they were forced to discard their lances and use their swords, for the wagons had been modified with wooden slats to prevent lances being used effectively.
Captain Ingrew and his two hundred surrounded the attackers, as many of the crossbowmen in the wagons resorted to swords. Swiftly, the Kinshra were overcome. It was a minor victory for the city of Falador.