The sundering, p.12
The Sundering, page 12
‘Go on,’ Malekith said without looking up.
‘It has taken me many years to build what I have with the dwarfs,’ explained Aernuis. ‘Only these last three years have I spent with the High King. Before that, I dwelt within Karak Izril, a city as far south again as you have travelled from Karak Kadrin. When we sailed across the ocean, we looked to find passage eastwards, but storms blew us onto the coast south-west of where we now are. Though most of my crew survived the wreck, the ship could not be saved and we were cast upon this strange shore with little in the way of supplies, and with no knowledge of where we had landed.’
‘Sounds dreadful,’ muttered Malekith, still entranced by his brooch.
‘It was,’ said Aernuis, ignoring the prince’s irony. ‘The lands between the sea and the mountains are infested with orcs, vicious green-skinned beasts intent on slaughter and destruction.’
‘Yes, I know them,’ said Malekith, still feigning disinterest. ‘My sword has met more than a few.’
‘Goblins riding upon wolves assailed us, and we were driven ever eastwards, into the heart of the desolate wilderness that lies south of here,’ Aernuis continued. ‘We fought as best we could, but their attacks were constant and gradually our numbers dwindled. For several months we wandered, ever trying to head towards the mountains, but often finding our route cut off by orc camps or marauding warbands. There was little to hunt, and hunger and thirst stalked us as much as the goblins. When but a handful of my ship’s company were left, the others decided to head back towards the coast in the hope that some other ship may have followed our course. I knew this to be folly, for we had been driven here only by chance, but they would not be dissuaded from their course of action, so I let them go. Only loyal Sutherai stayed with me.’
‘How heart-warming, I’m sure,’ said Malekith, tossing the brooch onto a table beside the bed and swinging his feet to the floor so that he faced the Eataine prince. ‘So tell me, good admiral, what have you been doing for the last forty years?’
‘Sutherai and I made it to the foothills, travelling at night, hiding in stream beds and marshes to avoid detection during the day,’ said Aernuis, and his haunted expression as he recalled those times was a testament to the fear that he had felt. ‘We came upon a strange building, and thinking it abandoned, we took shelter. The orcs did not approach it, and so we made camp there for some time. It was, of course, a dwarf fort, and six days after we came there, the dwarfs returned. At first they were going to slay us out of hand, but I expect that so bedraggled and pitiful we looked, they stayed their axes. Curiosity saved us, and they took us back to Karak Izril, where we lived for many years.’
Aernuis looked at Malekith’s unconvinced expression and sighed.
‘I do not expect you to understand our plight,’ Aernuis said. ‘We were two strangers very far from our own lands. We did not know if there were other elves within a thousand miles, and even if there were, there was no way that we could contact them. Even when we had learned a little of the dwarfen tongue, and they came to trust us more, we could not leave. Where would we go? Out into the wilderness, boldly striking out for friends that in all likelihood did not exist? I felt as if I had stumbled upon all the riches of the world, but had nobody with whom to share them, nothing on which to spend them.’
‘Riches?’ asked Malekith, dropping his pretence of indifference.
‘You have seen how they decorate their halls, the gold and silver they wear, the artisanship of their weapons,’ said Aernuis. ‘It is but a fraction of the wealth of these mountains. Every hold has vast vaults filled with gems and precious metals, I have seen them. They covet gold like no other thing, and hoard it as a squirrel keeps nuts for the winter. Seeing you, I realised that much has changed since I left Ulthuan, and I think that now we must hold all the varied riches of the wide world in our hands. If we can but broker trade with the dwarfs, you and I will become pre-eminent amongst all of the princes.’
‘I am already pre-eminent,’ said Malekith.
‘Your soldiers are perhaps not so sure,’ said Aernuis.
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Malekith, angrily rising to his feet.
‘Sutherai has spoken with many of them, and learned that Bel Shanaar has grown rich and powerful on the proceeds of his empire,’ Aernuis said. ‘Though your claims here grow by the year, who can say how the fortunes of Nagarythe fare back on Ulthuan? Yet if you can reach agreement with the dwarfs, and act as arbiter between their kings and the Phoenix Throne, it is you who shall hold Bel Shanaar’s fate.’
‘Alandrian should learn to control his tongue,’ Malekith muttered.
‘With me by your side, you have a partner ready and willing to speak to King Snorri on your behalf,’ Aernius continued. ‘Without me, it will take you twenty years or more to earn his trust, and in that time many things can happen. It was by chance that we both met with these folk, but as our cities grow and more of our people cross the seas, how long before others encounter them also? If you fear me as a rival, you must fear time more, for we have an opportunity here to create something that will seal our places in history, but it will not last forever.’
‘Perhaps I misjudged you,’ said Malekith, and hope filled Aernuis’s face, but it quickly dissipated when he saw the Naggarothi’s cruel expression. ‘I thought you a coward, but instead you are merely a merchant. I am the prince of Nagarythe, a warrior and general, not a trader to barter deals and haggle with lesser entities.’
‘And how glorious might be the armies of Nagarythe with the wealth of the mountains in your coffers?’ said Aernuis with a smile. ‘Dwarf-forged spears in their hands, and dwarf-made arrows in their quivers? You have seen their buildings, sturdy and strong. Crude in look, but we can learn their techniques and turn them to our advantage, to create beautiful palaces in which to pass away our long days, and soaring castles that will defend our realm for eternity. Much of what they make is rough and functional, but if guided by an elven hand, think what their mastery of stone and metal and wood would bring to our people. It is not just trade that this relationship will herald, but a new era of elven dominion.’
‘I do not think that they will give up their secrets lightly,’ said Malekith.
‘They will not,’ replied Aernuis. ‘But if they will give them up at all, they will give them up to us!’
Malekith sat down again, deep in thought. He imagined the legions of Nagarythe marching upon roads that cut through hills and over bridges that spanned wide rivers and mountain passes. He had seen the odd mechanical bows that many of the dwarfs carried, and wondered what his finest marksmen could do with such weapons.
Only after a while did he remember that Aernuis was still in the room. He looked up at the prince, who was wracked between expectation and dread as he looked at Malekith pondering the future.
‘Very well,’ Malekith declared. ‘You have proved yourself useful to me, and I shall not slay you yet. You may leave me now.’
Aernuis bowed again with as much dignity as he could muster, and then departed. Malekith picked up the brooch from the table and looked at it again, tracing a finger over its entwined patterns. With a smile, he attached it to his robe and stood, calling for Alandrian.
Six
Beasts in the Mountains
What Aernuis had said proved to be true; the dwarfs were reluctant to treat with any outsiders. However, the Eataine prince’s long standing in Karak Izril and his exemplary behaviour in the capital had garnered him a measure of respect, and by association this passed also to Malekith.
The Naggarothi ruler despatched some of his company to return to Athel Toralien, so that proper scribes and diplomats could come to Karaz-a-Karak. The dwarfs laboured likewise, assembling embassies from the many holds across the mountains, for these debates concerned not just Karaz-a-Karak but all of the dwarf empire.
It took the whole of the summer for the preparations to be made, and Malekith was always careful to send regular missives back to Ulthuan so that no suspicion was aroused, whilst conveying as little information as possible so that he would personally remain pivotal to the discussions. This position of influence was helped considerably by the fact that the three elves in the world that had some true understanding of dwarfish were allies of Malekith—Aernuis, Alandrian and Sutherai.
In that time, Malekith also went to great lengths to befriend King Snorri, at first seeking political power but later out of an unexpected but growing affection for the High King. As Malekith’s grasp of the dwarfs’ language improved, he spent more time with Snorri.
‘What is best about Nagarythe?’ the High King asked one day.
The two were alone in a reception room of the king’s chambers. Malekith sat upon a chair the king had personally commissioned for his tall companion, while the king slouched in a deep armchair upholstered in thick elk hide. The servants had left a keg of ale and a large plate of pies on the low table that lay between them.
‘The blue skies,’ Malekith answered without hesitation. ‘The air is cold and crisp and the north wind stirs the senses. Sometimes she sighs through the pine forests, other times she howls over the mountain peaks.’
‘And what do you think of my mountains?’ said Snorri. ‘Do they compare to your homeland?’
‘They are mighty,’ laughed Malekith. ‘Taller than the peaks of Nagarythe and greater of girth. But I travelled beneath them for the most part and have not yet walked upon them.’
‘That will not do!’ declared Snorri, jumping to his feet. ‘What host am I to show you my rooms and keep from you the beauty of my lands? Do you enjoy hunting?’
‘Very much,’ said Malekith. ‘I have tracked and slain many a monstrous beast in the Annulii.’
‘Have you ever killed a troll?’ asked Snorri enthusiastically. ‘A cragwyrm, or a daggerfang?’
Malekith shook his head. Such beasts were unknown to Ulthuan, at least by the names used by Snorri.
‘Then we shall have a troll hunt!’ declared Snorri with a wide grin splitting his beard.
Two days later Malekith found himself stood upon a windswept shoulder of rock looking over a deep mountain valley. He was several miles to the north of Karaz-a-Karak, accompanied by Alandrian, the High King and several dozen dwarf escorts. Though the year was well into spring, the mountain air was still chill and the hunting party were swathed in capes and furs. Only a few clouds scudded across the skies, and when the sun broke free the prince could feel his skin prickling with warmth.
Snorri pointed across the valley to a thick forest. The trees were immense in girth, though not tall, not unlike the dwarfs. Square clearings had been chopped into the edges of the woods by dwarfen woodcutters.
‘Wutruth,’ said the king. ‘The strongest trees of the mountains. This forest is older than Karaz-a-Karak, and we cut only five trees every year so that its descendants have time to grow. It is also a haunt of strange and dangerous beasts.’
‘That is why we are here,’ said Malekith with a smile.
‘It is indeed,’ said Snorri.
The High King was full of energy as he led the party down a winding track that meandered between rocky crags towards the valley floor. He bounded from stone to stone with an agility surprising for his stature, though Malekith had no difficulty keeping pace with his long, graceful strides. As they walked, Snorri gave a running commentary of everything in sight.
‘The peak to the west, with the purple cliffs facing us, is Karag Kazor,’ the king said. ‘It was upon the fires of her belly that Grungni forged the first of Grimnir’s axes.’
A huge flock of dark-feathered birds with bright red beaks swooped overhead and disappeared up the valley.
‘Bloodcrows!’ exclaimed Snorri. ‘That is a good omen! They are scavengers. To see them in such numbers means that there is plenty to eat. Something close by has been killing!’
And so it went on, with Snorri expounding on every type of rock and plant, bird and beast that they encountered. As the sun reached her zenith, bathing the valley in warmth, they reached the well-tended treeline. The forest was dark and clear of undergrowth, the wutruth seeming to claw nourishment from the bare rock.
‘If you would like to take a small repast, I’ll be back shortly,’ said Snorri.
With a handful of dwarf warriors, the High King headed into the woods and was quickly lost in the shadows. The dwarfs that remained sat down on rocks and stumps, and brought forth hard bread and pungent cheeses from their carry-sacks.
Malekith was not hungry and instead watched the dwarfs carefully. They seemed at ease, but every now and then they would glance at their charges. Though the prince considered that they might simply be mindful of their protective duties, he decided that they were present more to protect the High King from any perfidy by the elves.
Snorri returned shortly, a satisfied smile written upon his craggy features.
‘Clawed tracks, big ones!’ said the High King. ‘Not too old either, by my reckoning.’
The king gave the order for the party to get ready to move, which was greeted with quiet, good-natured grumbling. Most dwarfs preferred to stay underground whenever possible, and Snorri’s companions were no different. However, they were now used to their High King’s strange appetites for sky and fresh air, and indulged him with good humour.
They came across the trail a few hundred paces from the edge of the woods. Malekith bent to one knee to examine them. They were indistinct, the soil here being very thin, but the prince could make out a large footprint as long as his arm and exceptionally broad. It was not unlike orc or goblin tracks, though considerably bigger; four-toed with the marks of ragged claws.
‘Troll,’ said Snorri with smug confidence. ‘You are fortunate. Most trolls will have moved further north by this time of year. This one is either exceptionally stupid or brighter than your average troll.’
‘How so?’ asked Malekith.
‘It could be too stupid to realise it will get too hot for it in the summer,’ explained the king. ‘Or it could be clever enough to realise that the other trolls have left and there will be plenty for it to eat without competition.’
‘Does it make any difference?’ said Alandrian.
‘Yes and no,’ said Snorri with a shrug. ‘A stupid troll will be easier to catch, but more likely to attack when caught. A smarter troll might realise it is in danger and try to run away.’
They followed the trail north and eastwards, deeper into the woods. Here and there they found the gnawed remains of an animal carcass or a pile of the foulest-smelling dung Malekith had ever encountered. By this spoor Snorri judged that the troll was close at hand, within a few miles.
‘It is afternoon now, so it is likely hiding somewhere in a shady spot out of the sun’s gaze,’ said the High King. ‘There are some caves not far from here that we should explore. It would be good to catch it before nightfall, otherwise it might move away and we’ll never find it.’
They continued to follow the tracks, which led towards the caves as Snorri had hoped. Quite some time had passed and the sun was now beginning to slide down behind the peaks to the west. Where Malekith spied the sky through a break in the canopy he saw that clouds were gathering again and the light was fading fast.
The short mountain day was nearing its end when Snorri brought them out of the trees onto a high bluff. A white cliff face opposite was dotted with dark caves, and the High King pointed towards numerous troll tracks on the ground.
‘He’s here all right,’ growled the High King.
Snorri gestured to one of his retainers, who brought forth the king’s crossbow. It was a remarkable piece of dwarfish craft, inlaid with gems and silver, its crosspiece and firing lever gilded. As the king loaded his weapon with measured precision, Malekith brought forth his bow from the quiver on his back and quickly strung it. He nocked a black-fletched arrow, casting his gaze towards the caverns only a few hundred paces distant.
‘How does one hunt troll?’ he asked.
‘Some of my lads will go in and flush it out,’ said Snorri. ‘Or it’ll chase them out… One way or another, best to lure it into the open first.’
‘And where does one aim for the killing shot?’ said the prince.
Snorri laughed.
‘This is no bear or stag that can be brought down with a single shaft,’ the dwarf said. ‘Their brains are exceptionally small, and I’ve seen a troll carry on fighting with three bolts through its thick head. Their heart is in the chest behind strong bone. Fire is a good bet, for burnt flesh does not regrow.’
In illustration, the king handed one of his bolts to Malekith and pointed to the tip. A small rune was inscribed into the sharpened iron, flickering with a distant flame.
‘It might take some bladework to finish it off,’ the king added, taking back the bolt.
Malekith pondered this as more than a dozen dwarfs headed across the open ground, flaming brands in their rough fists. He felt no fear, for there was no creature in the world that he could not best. His heart did beat a little faster in anticipation, and the prince could see that Snorri was equally eager to get a sight of their prey.
The High King felt Malekith’s gaze and turned to wink at the elf.
‘Good fun, eh?’ Snorri chuckled.
The torch-bearing dwarfs had now entered the caves and the light from their brands disappeared. Soon enough there came the echo of shouts and three dwarfs came running from a cave entrance to Malekith’s left. They glanced over their shoulders, not in panic but to ensure their quarry was following.
A dozen paces behind them emerged the troll.
It was tall and gangling, easily twice Malekith’s height, with wiry, muscled limbs and a bulbous stomach. Its head was large and ungainly, with a flattened nose and small, unintelligent eyes. Its hide was like a thick grey scale, hairless save for clumps upon its head and shoulders. Large and frayed pointed ears framed its hideous face, and its mouth was wide and filled with cracked teeth. Its long arms ended in club-like hands, its bony fingers tipped with broken, filthy claws.
