‘There’s not time to fortify it,’ said Brunkaz. ‘We need to dig in there, or it’ll be a slaughter.’
Belegar laughed. ‘The only slaughter I’ve seen in recent weeks is that of the ratkin! We’ve slain so many I could carpet the east road all the way to the Uzkul Kadrin in vermin fur.’
‘Aye, true enough,’ conceded Brunkaz, although his expression made clear his distaste at covering good dawi stone with ratskin. ‘But these aren’t dregs we’re facing – that part’s done with. Belegar, you know how they work. The Headtaker is sending in his clan warriors and stormvermin. Our lads are worn down, and we’ve lost a good number. They’ll not last until the defences are ready.’
‘They’ll have to,’ said Belegar firmly.
‘There’s no time, my king,’ said Brunkaz.
‘There’ll have to be time, or we’ll not get the other lines finished!’ snapped Belegar.
Drakki cleared his throat, politely interrupting before grudges began to sprout like grobi in a damp cave. ‘And what of the way into Kvinn-wyr?’
‘That at least is in hand,’ said Belegar. ‘Dokki,’ he called over to an engineer hard at work over his own maps.
‘My king?’
‘How’re the preparations at the Arch of Kings going?’
‘Give me three weeks and the dawi I’ve got, or sixty more engineers and two days and I’ll have the fort back in dawr order. Before that…’ He sucked in his breath and clucked his tongue. ‘You’ll be lucky if it’s before the end of the month.’
‘This is the Eternal Realm! Surely we have time,’ said Belegar. ‘What about Kolbron Feklisson’s miners?’
‘Ah! Here we have less dire tidings,’ said Drakki, brightening a little.
‘We’ve retaken the western foundries?’ said Belegar hopefully.
‘Er, no. The miners have lost the foundries, but are still holding the eastern entrance.’
‘That’s good news,’ said Belegar hesitantly, fully expecting the worst. He was rewarded with it.
‘For now, my lord. They’re going to be encircled here and here – it’s only a matter of time,’ said Drakki, tracing a series of halls on the map. ‘We’ve rumour of thaggoraki tunnelling teams at work behind them.’
‘From who?’ said Brunkaz. ‘Half our number are sparsely bearded hill dwarfs or umgdawi.’
‘Sadly not from them, my lord,’ said Drakki. ‘From Kolbron himself. No one knows stone better. If he says there’s something going on in the rock, you can bet your last coin there is.’
Belegar shook his head from side to side, his beard whispering against the parchment. ‘Tell them to withdraw.’
‘They won’t retreat, Belegar,’ said Drakki, a note of pleading in his voice.
‘Tell them it’s a direct command from me. I’ll write it on a bit of paper if it makes them happy. Get them back up here. I want them reporting to Durggan Stoutbelly and helping him fortify the Hall of Clan Skalfdon before sunrise or I’ll be writing grudges against the lot of them, is that clear? With their stonecraft under Stoutbelly’s direction, we’ve a fighting chance of establishing the next perimeter.’
‘It’ll be a hard task,’ said Brunkaz. ‘Not like the old days.’
‘Yes, yes, yes!’ said Belegar tersely, only just reining in his temper and maintaining the appropriate level of respect due to the living ancestor. ‘It never is like the old days, and it never will be again if we don’t give good account of ourselves here. We’re in a tough spot, aye, but we’ll all be dead if we grumble about it.’
Brunkaz’s wrinkled face paled under his beard at Belegar’s lack of deference. Belegar regretted his tone. ‘Have the messengers set out?’ he said, more softly.
‘This morning, my lord,’ said Drakki. ‘Six for each of Zhufbar, Karak Kadrin, Karaz-a-Karak and Karak Azul. No gyrocopters, as you commanded.’
‘We need them here.’ Belegar ground his broad teeth. Going cap in hand to the High King grated on his honour. What choice did he have? ‘The other kings will understand we cannot send their warriors back. They’ve not failed us yet. We’ll just have to dig in. Get Clan Zhudak to the gates of Bar-Kragaz, hold them back at the west tunnel. They’ll be coming through from the foundries that way as soon as they discover the miners have gone.’
‘Aye, my lord.’ Drakki hesitated, words that would not be spoken keen on his lips.
Brunkaz curled his lip at Drakki and made a rumble of disapproval that started deep in his gut and travelled upwards, quivering his moustaches as it came out of his mouth. ‘Drakki’s too good a dwarf to say it, but I will. We’ve got no chance. Half of us are dead already. The skaven are numberless. They’ve never attempted anything like this before. We’d be better off fighting our way out and leaving them to the greenskins.’
‘It’s a bigger attack, I’ll grant you. Nothing we can’t handle,’ said Belegar, his voice stiffening.
‘They’ve blown up Karag Nar! The sunset mountain, gone! Karag Rhyn’s a shadow of itself – half the old farmlands to the south are buried in its rubble. Can’t you see? Has pride blinded you so much? The mountains, Belegar, the mountains themselves are in pieces! If they can’t endure, what chance do we have?’ Belegar stared at his advisor, but Brunkaz had gone too far to stop. ‘There’s only one reason the Headtaker’s done that, and that’s to keep the greenskins off his back while he comes to finish us off. Or have you considered, it may not be long before they do the same to us? The thaggoraki have changed. We are not fighting against rats with sticks any more. Some of their machines make the creations of the Dawi-Zharr seem like toys! Why do you think they’ve left the surface camps alone? Why has Lord Duregar not had so much as a whiff of rat round the East Gate these last months while we’re knee deep in them? The answer’s simple – they’re coming to wipe us out! They don’t care. They’re massing for a final blow right at our heart, right into Kvinn-wyr.’
Belegar’s face grew purple, and his words when they came were quiet, the hiss of rain before the first thunder crack of a storm. ‘You will not mention the eastern kindreds in these halls again.’
‘All your life you’ve asked me for my counsel, from beardling to the king I love and serve gladly. I’ll give you the truth and aye, unvarnished,’ said Brunkaz. ‘This is my sooth, king of Karak Eight Peaks. Leave now, before we’re all dead. We tried our best. Sometimes we have to retreat a little further than we wish. Let the grobi and thaggoraki fight over the scraps. When the world’s troubles die down again, we can come back and take our lands from whoever wins. They’ll be weaker for their victory. More importantly, we’ll still be alive.’
‘Is that all, Brunkaz?’
‘Think of your son, Belegar.’
‘Is that all, Brunkaz?’ Belegar’s shout cut through the quiet muttering of dwarfs at council, so loud the candles and torches lighting the hall wavered before its fury. Only the glimlight of the glowstones was unperturbed.
Brunkaz could not meet his king’s eyes. He worked his cheeks, causing his beard and moustache to move around like a live thing. ‘Aye. That should just about cover it.’
‘Thank you. I suppose you’ll be wanting to leave, then? If you do, I’ll release you from your oaths, but the others’ll not thank you for it.’
Brunkaz went bright red. ‘I’ll not abandon my oaths! Course I’m staying. Why, if you were a few decades younger I’d put you over my knee and–’
‘Very well,’ interrupted Belegar. ‘If you’re staying, I’d appreciate you keeping your words tucked up behind your beard unless they’re something to do with defending the hold. Do you have anything useful to add in that regard?’