Eldrur realized his mistake and bowed in apology. “Forgive me, Tungdil Goldhand.”
Tungdil waved his hand dismissively. Even if he remained calm on the surface, the words of the elf were eating into him. He had reached the point where his reports were not being believed! He looked down at himself, noting the belly, the bits of food he had dropped and the dirt on the chain mail shirt that now fitted him as tightly as a sausage skin. His eye fell on the empty tankards. What has become of me? he asked himself in desperation and disgust-and then reached out for the next beer.
“No, I have never heard of any machinery like that, High King Gandogar,” said Eldrur. “Were there not some rumors once of a dwarf people known as the Undergroundlings? Perhaps-?”
The door opened and a messenger hurried in, drenched in sweat. “Excuse my bursting in, sire. My name is Beldobin Anvilstand from the Clan of the Steely Nails.” He made a bow to the high king. “I am sent by my Queen, Xamtys the Second, with this message for you, King Gandogar,” he said, out of breath. “You must read it at once! There are terrible things happening in the Red Mountain Range.”
The leather wallet changed hands and Gandogar broke the seal; he quickly read the lines and raised his eyes from the paper. “My friends, here we have the answer to our riddle.” He read the letter out:
Honored Majesty, High King Gandogar,
I fear we have underestimated the tenacity of our enemies.
After more than five cycles of quiet they have again set out to bring death and renewed destruction to our peoples with methods previously unknown.
I have already lost fifty-four good workers and ten of my warriors to an uncanny machine that travels through our tunnels attacking anything in its path. It has teeth, tongs, blades and other deadly weaponry with which it hacks and stabs. I have enclosed a drawing, in case your people or perhaps the fifthlings with whom you are staying currently, were to come across such a machine.
It is subverting any attempt on our part to repair the tunnel network, because no one dares enter the galleries. I understand the fear only too well. So far we have found nothing with which to combat this malign contraption, as it gives no warning when or where it may strike. We are not able to defend ourselves or prepare for its attacks. Traps we have tried have proved ineffective.
We know nothing about it. Only that it is immensely strong and heavy. It is partly steam-powered. I assume it is of a similar construction to the hoists we use to lift the wagons onto the rails, but it is smaller and it is mobile.
The runes on the armor plating make it clear that a thirdling force is behind it: “Beaten yet not destroyed, we bring destruction.”
I do not want the entire thirdling community blamed for the actions of an individual or of an ignorant and malicious minority. But they must all be interrogated to find out who is capable of constructing something like this.
I have sent warnings to all the other dwarf realms, because I do not know if the danger is targeted solely on us or whether-Vraccas help us-there are similar machines elsewhere.
The dwarf assembly must be called, so that we can decide on action.
May Vraccas bless you and keep you, High King Gandogar.
Queen Xamtys Stubbornstreak of the Clan of the Stubbornstreaks, in the Firstling Kingdom of Borengar’s Folk
“There we are! That’s the explanation. That figure in the tunnel was a thirdling,” Ireheart exclaimed, slamming his hand down so hard that the spoons rattled. “We must have discovered their base in the Outer Lands.”
Tungdil took a deep breath. He was not feeling well. He had swigged that beer far too quickly. “Why would they bother to dig to the outside and send their machines from the Outer Lands into our tunnels?” he objected, mumbling and burping.
“To advance unhindered-much less likely to be disturbed than coming overland from somewhere in the Outer Lands,” said Gandogar, agreeing with the dwarf-twin.
“It would explain why they were making the tunnels collapse behind them, like you said,” Eldrur chipped in. “They want to be sure they’re not found.” He continued the line of thought pursued by the previous speakers. “I think they must be based in the Outer Lands just on the other side of the border. They’re sending the machines in from there.”
Gandogar put the letter down on the table. “Xamtys is right. I’ll call an assembly. All the dwarf folks and the freelings, too, must decide on what to do. We’ll have to send a force out through the Northern Pass to find this fiendish workshop.”
“We’ve seen one at least of these evil bastards,” said Boindil, clenching his fists in anger. “If only we had been quicker… Who knows? Perhaps we could have put a swift end to all this horror.”
Tungdil was no longer in any condition to follow what was being said; the room was going round and his stomach was rebelling. “I must go,” he mumbled, getting up and swaying off toward the door. Boindil sprang to his aid in case he fell. “Leave me alone.” Tungdil pushed his friend away, “I can manage.” He stumbled off through the door and disappeared.
Ireheart watched in distress. He hardly recognized the good friend Tungdil once had been. Sighing deeply he returned to the table to face the disapproving elves and Gandogar’s anger. “It’s a fever he picked up on the journey,” he said in excuse. “It’s affecting his mind.”
Irdosil smiled; his light gray eyes said he believed not a single word yet he did not confront the lie, wanting to spare Boindil’s feelings. A dwarf did not tell lies.
“This is how we shall proceed,” said the high king. “A summons will go out this very day to all the dwarves.” He turned to the elves. “You are also welcome to attend our assembly.”
Boindil was about to object. He thought better of it and put some food in his mouth instead. He did not like the open manner Gandogar used with the elves. Letting the pointy-ears see their customs and way of life was one thing, but to admit them to their innermost decision-making circle was a step too far, he thought. Then it occurred to him that the arrangement went both ways. “So, who will be going to Alandur, Your Majesty?” he asked innocently, looking at Eldrur.
“I don’t understand.” Gandogar was irritated. “What do you mean?”
“Our return visit. Our elf friends are all out visiting at the moment, if I’ve got it right?” he expanded. “They are bound to expect the children of the Smith to send a delegation to Alandur to pay our respects in turn.”
Eldrur’s smile came out crooked. “Prince Liutasil will not be insisting the visit be reciprocated, Boindil Doubleblade. He is aware of the discomfort you face if you have to spend time under the open sky or in forests.”
Ireheart folded his arms over his long black beard. “Not so fast, Friend Elf. If you can cope with spending time underground we can certainly manage to do the reverse. I’m not afraid of any tree.”
Gandogar grinned. “A good idea, Boindil. Why don’t you take on that responsibility?”
“ Me? ” That was hardly the outcome the dwarf-twin had been expecting. “I think it’s better if I stay here, High King Gandogar. If we’re off to the Outer Lands you will have need of me.”
“Of course, there was never any doubt about that. But it will be some time before all the dwarf clan delegates arrive,” said Gandogar unwaveringly. “Alandur is not far away, so I suggest you pay a courtesy visit to the realm of the elves. What more suitable ambassador than one of our greatest heroes?”
“Your Majesty, I…” Boindil attempted to change his sovereign’s mind. He and Eldrur were looking equally unhappy about this.
“No more objections, Boindil,” Gandogar said amicably. “It’s settled. You shall leave at daybreak with gifts for Lord Liutasil to thank him for his efforts to further understanding between our peoples. I shall send for you when our assembly reaches consensus and we are ready to set off for the Outer Lands.”