“That was given to me by the king to ensure passage into the city. As you know, it bears the royal crest and cannot be obtained falsely.”
The dwarf came forward slowly. He stood not five feet, and he was shod in large brown boots. His clothes were a strange shade of grey that made him blend in well with the surrounding rock. At both his sides he carried hatchets, two on the right one on the left. In his hands he held a great axe, four feet long with two large, half-moon blades at its end. The edges of both blades sparkled even in the faint light. The shaft was well polished and smooth. The handle was wrapped tightly with leather, and at the base there was a sapphire the size of a child’s fist.
The dwarf came within five feet and spoke, not easing his grip on the axe. “What’s yer business in the city?”
“I seek counsel with the king. And we have business of a personal nature for Whill here.”
The dwarf eyed Abram and Whill in turn. His long brown hair was clumped in thick locks, and his brown beard reached his belt. Behind his large, flat nose were watchful green eyes.
“Ye do indeed be friends o’ the king if ye carry such a pendant, but ye must be great fools to bring a horde of Draggard at yer heels to the mountain pass. Quick, now, get yer weapons an’ follow me.”
The dwarf waited as they retrieved their weapons and then walked to the ledge. “There.” He pointed. “They’ve been following ye nigh an hour.”
Whill could faintly make out movement far below. Abram saw them too. “There are at least twenty, damn! Do you think we will make it to the pass in time?”
“Doesn’t matter whether we will or no. We’ll kill ’em before we get there,” he said with a proud voice.
“What!” Whill exclaimed. “You intend to fight them? I am sure you can wield that axe with great skill, but they are too many. Even with the three of us we are outnumbered almost six to one. It would be suicide!”
“I’ll not run from those beasts! This is a dwarf mountain, this is, and I’ll defend her as such. Those foul ones will learn the ferocity o’ the dwarves. We don’t back down, and we don’t run. They be the trespassers, and they will pay for their crimes.”
The dwarf’s face was red and his eyes watered as he spoke. Whill could sense that something very intense fueled this dwarf’s hatred for the Draggard.
Abram spoke up. “You may be proud enough to die taking on that many Draggard, but do not be foolish. We can get reinforcements and return to fight.”
“No!” The dwarf insisted in a deep voice. “If they find the door to the passageway, they’ll send messengers to report it. As ye know, they’ve a keen sense o’ smell-that’s how they track ye still. If they learn o’ the passageway into the city I’ll have failed in me duty, and that will not happen. I will fight! Ye can run like cowards if ye wish, but ye will never see the city!”
Whill stepped forward. “We are no cowards! But we should not run to fight these beasts hastily. We need to have a plan for attack.”
Abram agreed. “He’s right. I have seen one Draggard rip through ten men before falling to the blade. We will not defeat them if we simply stand and fight.”
The dwarf squinted at them, frowning. “I been watching ye and yer pursuers fer an hour now. I have thought o’ a plan for ambush already.” He pointed at the ledge directly above them. “On that ledge are many boulders, large enough to kill those beasts but small enough to push. I’ll wait there; the two o’ ye should wait o’er there.” He pointed in the direction he had come. “Ye can attack with those bows o’ yers once I’ve let loose the boulders.”
Abram looked at the ledge above, and at the boulders he and Whill would use as cover. “It is a good plan, master dwarf, but they will not all be killed by your falling rocks, nor our bows.”
The dwarf smiled mischievously. “I know. The rest will die by our blades.”
Whill laughed nervously. “You’re mad, did you know that?”
The dwarf’s smile faded. “Ye know, boy, men have died fer saying less to a dwarf. But I need yer help fer now, or else we would have to go round. That can be settled later, laddie. I advise ye to watch yer tongue.”
Abram watched the exchange and eyed Whill with a raised brow. Whill let out a frustrated sigh. “I apologize, master dwarf. Perhaps I have mistaken your bravery and cunning for-pardon the expression, insanity.” The dwarf eyed him suspiciously. “Could I know the name of such a fearless dwarf?”
The dwarf eyed him still. Whill assumed he was pondering whether to chop off his head or introduce himself. At last the dwarf, being accustomed to the ways of men, extended his hand. “I am Roakore, son o’ Ro’Din.” Whill shook his hand. It was like a rock. His skin was rough and his grip was crushing. Whill tried not to grimace and instead he manifested his discomfort into an animated look of surprise.
“You are the son of Ro’Din? Fallen king of the Ebony Mountains?”
Roakore released Whill’s throbbing hand. “Aye, but this ain’t no time fer conversation. Let us ready ourselves quickly.” He looked over the ledge once again. “They’ll be here soon.”
Just then Whill had an idea. “What if we bait the Draggard, try to get more of them in range for the falling rock?”
“What do you mean?” Abram asked.
Roakore laughed. “If ye would like to be the bait, boy, go ahead.”
Whill ignored him and produced the bag of diamonds from his pocket. He looked up at the ledge, determined the best spot, and dumped the diamonds onto the ground. They gleamed brightly even in the dim light. Roakore gasped at the sight of the large pile of gems. “How did ye obtain such a wealth o’ diamonds?”
“He defeated Rhunis of Eldalon in competition,” Abram said.
Roakore’s expression of shock did not fade. He looked at the diamonds and to Whill again. Finally he composed himself. “Indeed, if ye can beat the Dragonslayer, ye will be an able ally; though it makes me uncomfortable to leave these diamonds fer those beasts.”
Whill mocked the dwarf’s earlier conviction. “I as well, but they will all die as sure as the sun will set.”
Roakore simply nodded and let out a growling laugh. Abram urged them to go as he peered over the ledge. “They are coming.”
The three started for the boulders they would use for cover. Abram chose a large one about sixty feet from the diamonds. It was nine feet tall and as wide as four men, with a large crevice on the side opposite the ambush site. Abram climbed atop the boulder and squatted within the crevice. It was perfect for his intentions: he could quickly bring his bow over the top, and had a better vantage point from there.
Roakore nodded his approval. “I think that Whill here should come with me. ’Twill be a more effective attack if a bowman was directly above ’em as well. It’ll confuse ’em.”
Though Whill did not like the idea, Abram agreed. From the boulder he put a hand on Whill’s shoulder. “Aim for the neck and eyes.”
Whill nodded and began to follow Roakore. They walked down the trail a few feet before Roakore began to climb the rock face. “Quickly, boy, so we are not seen!”
Whill scrambled to keep up. The dwarf, with his short legs and arms, surprised Whill by how well he scaled the steep rock face. They climbed fifty feet before coming to another ledge. Once on the ledge Whill peered over the side. He could now see the Draggard much better as they advanced up the trail. There were two scouts thirty feet ahead of the main pack. One advanced along the trail, while the other took a different route, continually veering from the trail and stopping often, snout in the air.
“Come,” said Roakore.
Whill followed him along the ledge to the boulders he had spoken of. Once again Whill peered cautiously over the ledge. They were directly above the diamonds. Roakore smacked his back. “Help me, laddie. Gather as many large rocks as ye can.” He walked over to a rock directly behind them. “This size is perfect.”