The sundering, p.16
The Sundering, page 16
Malekith spent most of those following days with the High King, and was pleased that the heroic display of his warriors and himself had earned much respect in Snorri’s eyes. Snorri was much more talkative, and seemed eager that the coming negotiations went well.
To cheers and great clamour, the throng returned to Karaz-a-Karak and strode through the gates. The dwarfs chanted Snorri’s name and came forwards to congratulate their returning warriors. The elves were greeted with similar enthusiasm and were presented with all manner of small gifts and tokens of the dwarfs’ appreciation by wide-eyed beardlings and smiling dwarf maidens.
That same night, the High King hosted a banquet for the victorious army, and lavished his warriors and the elves with food and beer. He bid Malekith the honour of sitting at his right-hand side, and gave the prince his own royal drinking tankard. There were many toasts raised, and more speeches, though on this occasion Malekith was far more complimentary to his hosts than he had been in Karak Kadrin. He thanked the dwarfs for their hospitality and spoke of their courage and honour. He pledged his lifelong friendship to their people, and swore an oath of brotherhood with the High King.
This last was a great occasion and marked the dwarfs’ absolute acceptance of the elves as their comrades and friends. Whatever the negotiations and trade talks would bring, Malekith now knew that he would forever be an ally of Snorri, and found himself glad that this was so, not only for the power and prestige this would surely bring, but also because Malekith genuinely liked and admired the dwarfs’ ruler.
The day after the celebratory feast, Alandrian was summoned to Malekith’s chamber. The prince gave him a very personal mission. The lieutenant accepted his orders without question and sought out Aernuis. He found the Eataine prince in one of the upper galleries.
‘There is something important we must discuss,’ Alandrian said with a conspiratorial tone. ‘Come with me.’
Aernuis followed without question as the Naggarothi captain led him out of the hold via one of the many secondary gates, and they walked out onto a windy rampart high up the mountainside.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Aernuis finally, as Alandrian took them up a winding stair that led up to a cliff face.
‘We cannot risk being overheard or seen,’ Alandrian confided.
Saying no more, Aernuis ascended the steps and they stood side-by-side upon a wide ledge. Beneath them a swift river had cut a deep ravine, and gushed over a steep fall into a pool surrounded by jagged rocks some two hundred feet below. Spray filled the air and the roar of the water masked all other sound.
‘What is it that you have to say?’ asked Aernuis.
‘I have a message from Prince Malekith,’ said Alandrian.
‘What is it?’ replied Aernuis.
Swifter than a striking snake, Alandrian stepped behind Aernuis and pulled a curved blade from his belt. Grabbing the prince by the chin, he drove the point of his blade into Aernuis’s back, cutting through his spine. Aernuis struggled as he collapsed to his knees, his cries muffled by Alandrian’s hand.
‘You are no longer useful to him,’ Alandrian hissed in his victim’s ear. ‘Malekith has the ear of the High King now, and he remembers the slights against him. He is not known for his forgiving nature.’
Aernuis writhed and wept, but Alandrian’s grip was as tight as a vice.
‘My prince cannot allow you to live,’ the Naggarothi explained. ‘He would willingly let his light shine upon your life, but he cannot share power with you. You are beneath him, and your petty ambition would undermine all that he hopes to build.’
The Eataine prince flailed at his assassin but Alandrian easily batted away his grasping fingers. Without any hint of pleasure or regret, the Naggarothi drew his knife across Aernuis’s throat and pushed him from the ledge. He stepped forwards to watch the body tumble into the spume. The trail of arterial blood spewing from the wound was soon swallowed up by the fury of the waterfall. Tossing the blade casually after the Eataine prince’s corpse, Alandrian turned back towards the stair. He wondered where he might find Sutherai.
Fifteen days later, the audience chamber of Snorri was filled with a crowd of dwarfs and elves. Though ostensibly mingling and getting to know each other, the two peoples were keeping to their own and only a few brave souls of either race ventured over to talk to the opposite delegation. The High King sat upon his throne and watched all of this with amusement, Malekith stood upon his right.
‘It is a shame that your two companions are not here to witness the culmination of their efforts,’ Snorri remarked.
‘A shame indeed,’ Malekith replied without pause. ‘I cannot comprehend what possessed them to venture from the city without an escort.’
‘Nor I,’ said Snorri.
Malekith detected no hint of accusation in the High King’s voice, though perhaps the prince’s ignorance of the dwarfish language masked some implication in the words.
‘I am glad that their disappearance has not caused problems for the negotiations,’ Malekith said smoothly. ‘It is good that their sudden departure has not formed unfounded suspicions between us. Such an occurrence could have unravelled many months of careful planning.’
‘Do you think there is cause for suspicion?’ said Snorri, turning a questioning eye upon the prince.
‘I think not, but I can see how one might view such matters with suspicion. I do not think that there is any conspiracy at work. Prince Aernuis has long been in self-exile and perhaps the impending talks got the better of his nerve.’
‘Whatever his reasons, he is probably troll-fodder by now,’ said Snorri, returning his attention to the throng below. ‘Or worse.’
‘A regrettable end for a prince of Ulthuan,’ said Malekith.
They both allowed the hubbub of the hall to wash over them for a while until Malekith felt the need to break the silence.
‘Shall we join our parties and bring them together?’ the prince said.
‘Yes, let’s get this pony moving,’ said Snorri, stepping from his throne.
For more than a year the talks between the elves and dwarfs progressed, and there were many treaties signed and oaths sworn on both sides. While the rulers and diplomats haggled, the common people of both races got on with the business of the actual trade, reaching local agreements and personal bargains with their opposites.
Malekith recovered from his wounds in time to see the negotiations concluded. Once fit again, he divided his time between Athel Toralien and Karaz-a-Karak, and led the elves to numerous celebrated victories over the creatures of darkness. Bel Shanaar sent the prince a mighty gift in recognition of his achievements: a white dragon from the mountains of Caledor. As his father had done in the time of the daemons, Malekith led the armies of the elves from atop this mighty beast and his foes fell before him. Many times more over the following centuries did the prince of Nagarythe march forth beside the High King, and their friendship was a symbol of the unity between the races of elf and dwarf.
The alliance with the dwarfs heralded the golden age of the elves; their colonies spread across the globe and the wealth of distant lands flowed into their coffers. Their fleets travelled wherever the elves’ desires took them, and cities of gleaming marble and alabaster rose up in the wildernesses of the world.
From Ulthuan the elves spread to every corner of the world, settling in the steaming jungles of Lustria, the savage forests across the great ocean, and upon volcanic isles in the east. The cities of Ulthuan grew with the empire, so that even the meekest of their kind lived in grand mansions amidst great luxury. Everything from the sea to the mountains became the domain of the elves, and in the peaks the dwarfs reigned supreme, their own empire growing vast upon the spoils of the alliance.
Only one land remained free of elvish influence. Eastwards, beyond the mountains of the dwarfs, lay the blasted wastes of the Dark Lands. No elf wished to venture further east, for there was plenty enough for both peoples to enjoy and the dwarfs warned that there was nothing but death and misery in the barren desert.
Thus the elves named the high peaks Saraeluii: the Mountains at the Edge of the World. Truly they were masters of all that they surveyed. Their armies marched at will under the command of the princes, and the evil orc and goblin tribes, vile beastmen warbands and unnameable Chaos creatures were driven into the far north.
Only here, at the very roof of the world, would the elves not venture. It was here that the Realm of Chaos touched upon the world, disgorging its tide of magical energy, warping and corrupting the lands. Having suffered greatly at the hands of daemons before, the elves had no desire to war against the Dark Powers upon the doorstep of their otherworldly realm, and were content to corral the nightmare mutants and monsters upon the bleak ice and keep them from the cities in the south.
Malekith found that his spirit was not quelled by these battles, for his foes were now of little threat, scattered remnants of the huge tribes and armies that had once made the woods their homes. His dragon was slain by a monstrous giant whilst the Naggarothi fought against the last great horde of orcs to beset the elves’ lands, and with reluctance the prince realised an age had ended. Elthin Arvan had been tamed, and with that his chance for greater renown would ebb away. So it was that Malekith finally turned his attention to the north, and first went into the cold lands of the Chaos Wastes.
Eight
The Passing of an Age
Hoping to regain some of his former passion, Malekith renewed his friendship with the dwarfs of Karak Kadrin, and alongside them took the fight to the monsters and mutants that came south from the Realm of Chaos. On occasion the High King would join Malekith in these conquests, and together they forged along the mountains and across the tundra to bring civilisation to the icy wilderness.
For a while Malekith was content, his turmoil soothed by the comfort of battle and his isolation from the politics of the elven princes. With sword in hand he became master of his own fate once more, and the legends of his exploits grew in proportion so that again his name was spoken of in awe by the high and the mighty of the colonies and Ulthuan.
It was here in the bitter cold of the northlands that Malekith first encountered the tribes of men. Some were savage in the extreme, and either took flight at first sign of the elven and dwarfen host, or sallied forth from their caves and crude huts to wage pointless battle against their far superior foes. At first Malekith took them to be nothing more than another barbarian people, no different or better than the orcs or beastmen.
However, as Snorri and Malekith led an army of dwarfs and elves into the very north of the Saraeluii, a group of humans came forth timidly from their rough dwellings to greet them. The humans brought with them gifts of simple bread and roasted meat. Though they had little more than stone weapons and heavy sticks, they confronted Malekith and Snorri without fear, grunting in their basic language.
The High King took the proffered food and in return gave the human chieftain a golden band from his wrist. The man took it and held it up, admiring the gleam of the metal, and a smile cracked his grimy, bearded face. With a shuffling gait, the tribal leader beckoned for the two to follow him back to their caves.
Malekith at first ignored the man, but Snorri was as inquisitive as ever and followed the elder. Relenting, Malekith walked after them, gesturing for his warriors to stand ready should anything untoward occur. Barriers of crudely split wood and curtains of woven grasses and raw animal hides barred the entrance to the largest of the caves, and smoke billowed out of the entrance from the cooking fires within. Ducking through the skins, Malekith found himself in a high, deep cavern.
Half a dozen human females were clustered within, suckling their young. Older women tended a fire over which roasted half the carcass of an enormous deer. The humans looked at their visitors with curious, intelligent eyes, and immediately Malekith recognised that these creatures were not like the orcs or the beastmen. There was something in their gaze that spoke of wisdom and emotion, utterly unlike the unthinking enmity of an orc’s stare.
Snorri tugged at Malekith’s arm and pointed excitedly to the cave walls. They were painted with many different scenes, interspersed with abstract symbols and crude pictograms. In particular the High King drew the prince’s attention to a painting of a small figure, rotund in form and wielding what looked to be an axe. He had a shock of red hair and a long red beard, and fought against a band of daemon-like stick figures with horns and long claws.
‘Grimnir,’ Snorri said with a grin, and Malekith nodded.
The daubings did look somewhat like the Ancestor God of the dwarfs, who had dyed his hair a fiery orange and wielded a rune axe as he had ventured into the Realm of Chaos to fight the daemons. That had been more than a thousand years ago, but the cave paintings seemed no more than a few years old. Had these humans passed down what they had seen all those centuries ago, Malekith wondered, leaving paintings and tales for the next generation? If it was true, it spoke loudly about their character and intelligence, and Malekith was quietly impressed.
The pair spent a mostly wordless afternoon with the humans, sharing their food and showing them various trinkets and weapons that they carried. The humans were awkward and filthy, but Malekith could see in them a certain nobility of spirit. After they left the camp, promising through signs and gestures that they would return, Snorri and Malekith fell into a long debate concerning what to do with these people.
‘They are children of the Old Ones, just as we are,’ the High King said. ‘They are not creatures of Chaos or darkness, though they are simple and have little civilisation yet.’
‘Yet?’ said Malekith.
‘For sure,’ said Snorri. ‘Without guidance or protection, they have survived the fall of the Old Ones and the coming of the Dark Gods. With but a small amount of education from us, they will no doubt become useful. They are quick to learn, I reckon, and will be attentive to our lessons.’
‘And to what purpose would you educate them?’ laughed Malekith. ‘Would you have them as clever labourers, or is there a greater intent to your proposal?’
‘I would teach them language and writing,’ Snorri replied earnestly. ‘Not the language of the dwarfs perhaps, but a tongue that we can all understand. They are here for a reason; I can feel it in my bones. It is our duty to shield them from the worst perils of the world and ensure that they prosper.’
‘Who are we to judge what should and should not happen?’ countered Malekith. ‘They have survived thus far by their own wit and strength, and perhaps it is right that we leave them to find their own path. We cannot know the will of the gods and the Old Ones, and I agree that they have a purpose here, but we cannot guess at what it might be. Is it our place to interfere, or to let things take their course?’
‘Hmm, there is much in what you say,’ said Snorri. ‘However, whatever their destiny, I cannot see that it was to be consumed by hideous creatures nor swallowed up by the dark legions of Chaos. Does it not strike you as odd that they thrive here, under the very shadow of the Chaos Wastes? I know from kin who have travelled further north that there are many of these tribes, in the mountains and upon the icy plains. Is it not preferable that we guard against their corruption, so that perhaps they might become a bulwark against the armies of the Chaos Gods?’
‘I would sooner see them as backward friends than clever enemies,’ said Malekith. ‘What if they take what we can teach them and turn our own knowledge against us? With stone axes and flint-tipped spears, they are no threat to us, but who can say what would happen if they learned the means to work metals, to grow into a nation that might one day look upon our domains with envy?’
‘There is much we do not know,’ agreed Snorri. ‘This is no matter to be decided in the course of a single day.’
So the two were in accord, and decided that their peoples would wait and watch. There was much promise in the race of men, but also much that could be perverted and turned to darkness. The elves and the dwarfs would treat their barbaric neighbours with a light touch, allowing them the shelter of their two empires but otherwise only guiding and shaping their future with their presence alone.
For an age the world turned and Malekith was content. War and adventure were plentiful and he returned only seldom to Athel Toralien, preferring the wild lands to the increasingly managed and austere realms of his colony. The Naggarothi prince was lauded across all of the colonies, and here he was king in all but name, for even the other princes admired what he had achieved.
Let Bel Shanaar rule over dull Ulthuan, Malekith would tell himself. Let the Phoenix King fill his days settling the arguments of spoilt princes. Glory and renown forever beckoned to the prince of Nagarythe and he grasped his opportunities with both hands.
All was to change.
For more than twelve hundred years the colonies grew and endured, and in that time Malekith’s power abroad knew no rival, except perhaps in Karaz-a-Karak. Then came word that Bel Shanaar, now rich beyond measure upon his trade and taxes, planned to travel to the dwarfen capital to meet his peer, the High King. For most in the cities of the forests this was heralded as an event worthy of much celebration. However, Malekith was not pleased.
‘What is his purpose in coming?’ Malekith demanded of Alandrian. He had just received a letter from Morathi warning of Bel Shanaar’s intent.
The two of them sat in a wide chamber at the heart of the prince’s winter palace, Malekith’s retreat during the season of ice when his armies could no longer march. A fire burned in the dwarf-built grate, and the two elves reclined upon long couches, wrapped in warm woollen robes.
‘I cannot know his intent, highness,’ replied Alandrian.
‘Do not be coy with me,’ snapped Malekith. ‘What do you think he is up to? My mother claims his rule is weakening on Ulthuan and he seeks to bolster his popularity.’
