Deciding that the pain of climbing stairs was not nearly so bad as the pain of listening to the kender’s yammering, Flint heaved a sigh, grit his teeth, and once more began to climb.
Chapter 19
Prisoners Of the Theiwar. Tanis Warns The Thanes.
Riverwind regained consciousness when the cold water slapped his face. He sputtered, gasped, then groaned, as the pain twisted inside him. Opening his eyes and seeing himself surrounded by enemies, he clamped his teeth down on the groan, unwilling to let them see how much he was suffering.
Bright light lanced through his aching head. He longed to shut his eyes against it, but he needed to find out what was going on and he forced himself to look.
He was in a large chamber with stone walls, lined with columns, with the feel of an assembly room about it, for there were nine large throne-like chairs arranged in a semi-circle on a dais near where he lay, bound hand and foot, on the floor.
Several dwarves stood over him, arguing loudly in their deep voices. Riverwind recognized one of the dwarves—a skinny little runt who wore a helm with a smoked glass visor, who was doing most of the talking. He’d been the one asking the questions, the same questions, over and over. Then, when he didn’t get the answers he wanted, he had ordered them to make the pain come again.
Hearing another groan, Riverwind turned his gaze from the dwarves. Gilthanas lay beside him. Riverwind wondered if he looked as bad as the elf lord. If so, he must be close to death. Gilthanas’s face was streaked with blood from cuts on his forehead and his lip. One eye was swollen shut, he had a lump on his jaw and a massive bruise on one side of his face. His clothes were torn, and his skin was burned and blistered from where they’d pressed red hot irons into his flesh.
They had treated the elf worse than they’d treated the humans. Riverwind had the feeling that the filthy dwarves had tormented Gilthanas more for the fun of it than because they wanted information from him. A gully dwarf of grandiose appearance was now throwing cold water in the elf’s face and slapping him solicitously on the cheek, but he still remained unconscious. Riverwind lay back and cursed himself. He’d taken precautions. He and his men—six all told—had entered the gate armed and wary, intending to look about, trying to determine if this was, in truth, the fabled gate to Thorbardin. He and his cohorts had never seen the attack coming. The draconians had emerged from the shadows, disarmed them and disabled them swiftly and efficiently.
The next thing Riverwind knew, he woke in pitch darkness, in a dungeon cell, with a hairy and foul-breathed dwarf bending over him, asking him in Common how many men were in the army, where they were hiding, and when did they mean to invade Thorbardin?
Riverwind said over and over there was no army, they weren’t planning to invade. The dwarf told him to prove it, to tell him where the people were hiding so he could go see for himself. Riverwind saw through that ploy and told the hairy little runt to go throw himself off the mountain. They then tried to loosen his tongue, beating and kicking him until he’d lost consciousness, when they woke him up, put a bag over him, and carted him off. He rode first in a wagon, then in a boat, then he’d lost consciousness again and had awakened here. He wondered how his comrades were faring. He’d heard their screams and their moans, and he knew proudly that the other four Plainsmen were not giving the dwarves the answers they wanted. His head was starting to clear, and he decided that he wasn’t going to lie here at the feet of these dwarves like a criminal.
“Paladine, give me strength,” Riverwind prayed and, gritting his teeth, he struggled to sit up. The scrawny dwarf said something to him and kicked him in the side. Riverwind stifled a groan, but refused to lie back down. Another dwarf, this one tall with gray in his beard, said something angrily to the dwarf in the helm. Riverwind took a good look at this dwarf. He had a noble bearing and a proud mien, and though he was not regarding Riverwind with a friendly eye, he appeared to be outraged by the human’s beaten and bloody condition.
This dwarf barked an order and beckoned to one of the guards. The guard left the Court, returning a short time later bearing a mug of some foul-smelling liquid. He held it to Riverwind’s lips. Riverwind looked up at the noble looking dwarf, who gave a reassuring nod.
“Drink it,” he said in Common. “It will not hurt you.” To prove it, he took a drink himself. Riverwind sipped at the brew, spluttering and coughing as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat. Warmth flooded his body, and he felt better. The throbbing pain eased. He shook his head when offered another drink, however.
The noble looking dwarf did not waste time on pleasantries. “I am Hornfel,” he said, “Thane of the Hylar. Realgar, Thane of the Theiwar, the dwarf who took you and the others prisoner, says that you arrived here with an army of humans and elves prepared to invade us. Is that true?”
“No, lord, it is not true,” said Riverwind, talking slowly through swollen lips.
“He lies!” Realgar snarled. “He admitted the truth to me himself not an hour ago!”
“He lies,” said Riverwind, fixing the Theiwar with a baleful stare. “I am the leader of a group of refugees, former slaves of the evil Dragon Highlord of Pax Tharkas. We have women and children with us. We were sheltering in a valley not far from here, but then dragons and dragonmen attacked us and we were forced to flee.”
He watched the Thane’s expression, and when he spoke of the dragons and dragonmen, he saw Hornfel’s face harden into disbelief.
“We have heard such lies before, Hornfel,” Realgar said, “the exact same tale told to us by the other Talls.”
Riverwind lifted his head. Other Talls. That could only mean his friends. He wondered where they were, if they were safe, what was going on. The questions were on his tongue, but he did not ask them.
He would find out more from the dwarves before saying something that might be entirely the wrong thing to say.
The dwarves went back to arguing among themselves, however, and Riverwind could not understand a word. He had the impression the dwarf known as Hornfel did not trust or like the dwarf he called Realgar. Unfortunately, Hornfel did not trust Riverwind either. One other Thane appeared to be siding with Realgar, and another with Hornfel. The rest seemed to be having trouble making up their minds.
Gilthanas stirred and groaned, but the dwarves ignored him. Riverwind could do nothing to help the elf. He could do nothing to help anyone. He sat, watched, and waited.
Tanis had no trouble getting himself apprehended, though he first had to free his captors to do so. He was walking down the street near the inn when he came upon two Hylar guards bound hand and foot, with gags over their mouths. He cut their bonds and helped them stand, then told the guards he needed to speak to Hornfel on a matter of the utmost urgency. The dwarves were clearly furious, but not at Tanis. They, too, wanted to talk to their Thane, and after a moment’s deliberation, they decided to take Tanis with them.
The dwarven guards hustled him into one of the lifts. Other dwarves stared at him and scowled, and several called out, wanting to know what was going on. His guards had neither the time nor the inclination to answer. They kept fast hold of him, though he assured them he wasn’t going to try to escape; he wanted to see Hornfel. When the lift stopped, the guards stopped to question other guards, asking where Hornfel could be found.
“The Court of Thanes,” was the answer.
Tanis was in no very good humor. He’d had little sleep and nothing to eat. He was outraged at the attempt on their lives, deeply concerned about Flint and Tas and the knowledge that draconians were in Thorbardin. He entered the Court of Thanes determined to make Hornfel understand his peril. He planned to have his say first and give the Thanes time to digest his words. When his friends arrived with the draconian prisoner, he would use the monster to emphasize his point. He would demand that he and his friends be allowed to seek out Flint and Tas in the Valley of the Thanes. Tanis was convinced Flint had been, or was going to be, lured into some sort of trap. These words were in his head and on his tongue, and he forgot them all in dismay and amazement when he walked into the Court of the Thanes to find Riverwind bound, bruised, and bleeding, and Gilthanas barely conscious.