‘Gabbik heard Glorri talking to Haldora, and he wanted her to be safe, wanted her to leave. But the oath bound them to the halls of Ekrund, and to break oath is to be worse than dead. He could not leave that as his legacy to the clan. Now he has taken the Last Oath, Gabbik has freed his family from the bonds that existed before.’

  Skraffi did not know what to say. He wanted to say thank you, and to hug his son, and to celebrate being freed from the oath, but all he could think about was the tattooed figure before him, resigned to a violent death, ashamed and alone until that bloody moment.

  ‘I hope that you… I hope Gabbik realises how thankful we are for what he did.’ Skraffi stroked his beard slowly, looking into that uncompromising gaze. It was spooky, as though he really was talking to someone other than his son. He did not know what was sworn in the Last Oath, what other rites were practised by the Brotherhood of Grimnir, but seeing the effects first-hand on someone he knew made the old dwarf shudder. ‘I hope,’ he managed to say, ‘that Gabbik knew his father was proud of him and that… He knew that his father loved him.’

  There was no reaction from the Slayer, he took this message without even a blink. Gabbik spared them any further torment. He turned away, darting one last look at Haldora, and joined the other Slayers.

  ‘Friedra?’ Skraffi touched her shoulder.

  Her eyes snapped to Skraffi’s as though coming out of a trance. She swallowed hard, wiped a single tear from her cheek and nodded to herself, trying to smooth the creases out of her tunic.

  ‘We can mourn later,’ she said. ‘Let’s get packed up and ready to go. We’ve been here long enough already.’

  Chapter Twenty-six

  ‘Norboron Angbok broke the rock over the largest seam of coal in the Dragonbacks, but unfortunately in his excitement he got drunk and fell down a chasm before he could tell the king. Or so the family legend has it. The claim itself was made by Storrin Goldnose, a remarkably gifted prospector who happened upon Norboron’s little camp a few days later.

  He was called Burlithrom back then, but after the size of the coal seam was confirmed he and all his descendants were granted the title of Goldnose by King Grimbalki and they have served as prospectors and miners to the royal clans ever since.

  And the seam was a whopper. Hundreds of dwarfs could labour on it at a time, going down and down and down into the bowels of the mountains. They built a whole gate just to reach it, not far from the king’s stockade, and it became the most important place in all of the Dragonbacks.

  The First Delve it was called, though some named it after the winding stair that followed its course into the bottom levels – Ekrund. The king liked this a lot and took it as the name for his city, and so eventually the dwarfs whose adventurous ancestors had left Karak Eight Peaks dug a new home and became the Ekrundfolk.’

  They found Glorri where they had left him, nervously chewing grubby fingernails as he sat amongst their things. He looked up sharply as they approached, furtive and restless. Haldora wondered if he had spent so long tracking goblins in the wildlands that he had started thinking and acting just a bit too much like them.

  ‘I told you, I had nothing to do with it,’ Glorri said, standing, hands held up defensively. ‘I didn’t know what he was gonna do, he just said that the Angboks would need my help and I was to come up here this morning.’

  ‘It’s morning?’ Friedra sounded surprised. She had said little on the journey back up from seeing Gabbik. Haldora could sense the tension in her mother, like water held behind a dam. She hoped it stayed in check long enough for them to get away. ‘I thought it might be late afternoon. Are you sure it’s morning? How can you be sure?’

  ‘A ranger knows these things,’ said Glorri, tapping the side of his nose. ‘It’s second nature, it is.’

  Haldora packed up what little remained of their possessions – a few heavily darned blankets, a sack of dry bread and some water canteens. Friedra sharpened her axe and Haldora’s, while Skraffi took a small hammer to the iron rims of their shields, knocking in extra nails, smoothing out the dents. Glorri watched all of this with a rodent-like restlessness, moving from foot to foot and fidgeting with his beard until Friedra fixed him with a stony glare.

  ‘So, where is it you’ll be taking us, master ranger?’ she asked, scraping the whetstone along the edge of Haldora’s axe. ‘Where’s this secret route?’

  ‘It’s not pleasant,’ Glorri warned. ‘There’s goblin tunnels, old ones, some of the way. A bit of crawling on your belly, and we can’t afford no lights.’ He plucked at his clothes and shrugged. ‘And there’ll be some dung.’

  ‘Goblin tunnels?’ said Skraffi. ‘How do you know they’re safe? Why aren’t they guarded, by them or us?’

  ‘Nobody thinks they go anywhere. The goblins is all killed, long time before the attack, years ago. And it looks like they come to a dead end, but there’s actually a crack in the rock, just about big enough to squeeze through on your hands and knees. Hard to find, but I found it. Smelt the air. Rank, but different. I been all the way to the surface, checked it’s clear.’

  ‘And then you just came back?’ Skraffi looked unconvinced. ‘To help us out?’

  ‘It’s not safe overground,’ said Haldora. She looked at Glorri and realised that it must have been quite an ordeal, crawling around in the filth and darkness on his own, hoping that the route led somewhere, wondering if he would be set upon by goblins or worse at any moment. ‘He told me before, didn’t you? Goblins and wolves in the woods to the north, right?’

  ‘That’s right. I don’t think I can make it on me own, not if I run into trouble.’

  ‘We can’t sneak out a whole army,’ said Friedra. ‘But four’s not much better than one in a fight, and more likely to be seen.’

  ‘That’s a good point,’ said Skraffi. ‘We could do with a few extra bodies, just in case we meet trouble.’

  Glorri did not look happy about this but he said nothing.

  ‘What do you think?’ Haldora asked him. ‘Ma and Skraffi are right, we can’t fight off a pack of wolf riders with just the four of us. How many do you reckon we could take, and still be able to slip through the woods without drawing too much attention?’

  ‘That’s a tricky one,’ said Glorri, gnawing his lip. ‘A dozen, I’d say. No more than a dozen. Who you thinking of taking?’

  ‘Fleinn and Durk, of course, if they want to come,’ said Skraffi. He looked at Haldora. ‘And Nakka too. Maybe old Thundred would want to join us.’

  ‘What about Prince Horthrad?’ suggested Friedra. They looked at her, taken aback, and she shrugged. ‘Why not? He might want to come, and if we turn up at Karak Eight Peaks or Barak Varr with a royal prince we’re more likely to get let in.’

  ‘That’s another good point,’ said Skraffi with an appreciative nod. ‘I like your thinking.’

  ‘Be quick and quiet about it,’ said Glorri. ‘We don’t want everyone and their pony following us, causing a racket, do we? And I ain’t sure about bringing the prince. That’ll be noticed, for sure.’

  A rumble caused them to stop what they were doing and look up. It had come from above, towards the South Gate. All around them dwarfs paused and looked to the south, sharing a moment of trepidation. Then came a muffled thudding, punctuated by rapid tapping that echoed through the still halls and tunnels.

  From a city that had once taken several days to traverse north to south and east to west, from the highest pinnacle to the lowest deeps, Ekrund had been reduced to a handful of levels and a dozen or less halls. The noise reverberated from the south to the north, and then it seemed as if there was a reply, a knocking and creaking that came back from the northern galleries behind the collapsed gate.

  ‘The orcs are digging in,’ muttered Glorri. He looked at Skraffi. ‘How long do you reckon it’ll take them?’

  ‘Days, at least,’ said Skraffi. ‘Leastways, it took us seven, eight days to fill up them gateways and tunnels.’

  ‘They’ve got giants, and ogres, and trolls,’ said Haldora. ‘And goblins under the lash.’

  ‘It seems to be coming from everywhere,’ said Friedra, as more thuds and scraping disturbed the quiet of the hold. ‘Will your route still be safe?’

  ‘If we don’t hang around gabbing about it, yeah,’ said Glorri, fidgeting even more than before, like a beardling needing permission to relieve himself but too intimidated to interrupt the conversation of his elders and betters to ask to be excused.

  ‘You fetch Nakka and the other Troggklads and what other lads you think would make good company,’ said Friedra, sounding decisive as she looked at Skraffi. She turned her attention to Haldora. ‘Find Horthrad and speak to him. Sound out what he’s about, but if you’re not sure, don’t tell him we’re going, he might not like that.’

  ‘Are we sure this is what we want?’ Skraffi asked before Haldora could go. He looked at each of them. ‘There’s no surety we’ll be any better off outside than in, and even if we get away from the Dragonbacks, there’s folk that will always think less of us, might not give us sanctuary.’

  ‘You saw what pa’s done, to give us this chance,’ said Haldora. ‘He did that so we could leave with honour and that’s what we should do.’

  ‘We’re leaving,’ Friedra said sternly. ‘I lost too many folks I know and cared for, I’m not losing Haldi too.’

  ‘Haldora,’ she corrected without thought.

  ‘All right, if you’re done with your heart to hearts,’ said Glorri, ‘maybe you’d like to get a shift on before the goblins turn up.’

  Haldora nodded and set off, heading up towards the South Gate. The dwarfs were roused by the noise of the greenskins’ excavation, but a lot of them were milling around, not sure what to do. A steady stream filed up towards the South Gate, mostly out of habit. There was no telling where the orcs might break through first, or how long it would take.

  Others just waited, especially the younger ones. Most of the longbeards they looked to for guidance were dead. The king had been killed and ever since a vagueness had pervaded the Ekrundfolk. Nobody had heard from Prince Rodri or his personal company since they had tried to lead a break out through the West Gate; everybody assumed they had been killed. Horthrad was overwhelmed by the turn of events. He was not more than a year over coming of age and nobody had ever thought he would become king. Most of the council were dead. The loremasters and runelords and guild leaders that would have advised and guided him had been gutted and beheaded and ripped apart by vile monsters.

  Haldora had seen him occasionally, wandering almost ghost-like amongst his people, listening to their praises and complaints, their hopes and fears, saying little in return. She could not imagine how he felt, inheriting the throne of a hold about to be overrun, made lord of a doomed people. They looked to him to be a leader but he did not have it in him to lead.

  She found him alone on a gallery overlooking the First Delve. Even lit by a handful of lanterns, it was still an impressive place, a great hole in the earth that went down five deeps, around its edge a spiral stair wound into darkness. Bridges and tunnels and galleries broke its flanks, but the sheer-sided shaft seemed to suck everything down into it.

  The noises of digging and rocks breaking outside the halls reached even here. The thuds and cracks seemed to spiral down with the steps, all the way into the lowest depths.

  ‘I wouldn’t do it,’ she said, coming up beside Horthrad.

  ‘Do what?’ he asked, not looking at her.

  ‘You know…’ she nodded down into the depths. ‘Ending everything.’

  Horthrad laughed, a bitter sound, and looked at her.

  ‘With our current fortune I would land on something soft,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry, I’ve no intention of ending it like that. My father and brother are already in the Halls of the Ancestors, waiting for me. I would never take the coward’s path.’

  ‘You’ll stay and fight to the very end?’ Haldora asked quietly. ‘With your people?’

  ‘The choice was made for me, back when there were other options,’ he replied, gripping the ornate ironwork rail in both hands. ‘I don’t think my father wanted to stay, but he knew he had to.’

  Haldora looked at the prince, trying to judge what he meant by that. Could she really ask him to abandon his people? To sneak away in the dark and leave them to their doom? Was it even right that she tempted him with such an offer?

  But when she looked at him as Horthrad, she wanted him to be safe, to have a future. He was brave, there was no doubt of that, and exceptionally intelligent. He honoured tradition but was not bound by dogma. He would, when he had grown into the role, become a great leader of the dwarfs. It seemed a waste of a life to have that potential snuffed out for no good reason.

  ‘You still have a choice,’ she told him. He cocked his head and looked at her. ‘There’s still a way out.’

  ‘The way your father found a way out?’ There was a sadness in his voice, not malice. ‘Word travels on swift wheels these days. Not for me, I think, the Brotherhood of Grimnir.’

  ‘No, you daft beggar, an actual way out. We know a ranger, he’s found a route out of Ekrund and into the mountains.’ She dropped her voice, realising that the First Delve could amplify sound in strange ways. ‘We can get away from here. Alive.’

  She watched his face, contorted by a succession of emotions: understanding, hope, confusion, doubt and then finally resignation.

  ‘I should argue,’ he whispered. ‘I should say that it is a king’s duty to stay with his people and that I cannot come with you. I should say that my honour is bound to the doom of Ekrund and is greater than the desires of my heart.’

  ‘You should?’

  ‘I should, but I can’t.’ Horthrad turned to her, hands clasped together, held to his chest. His eyes were moist. They glittered in the dim lantern light. ‘I want to go with you. And, truth is, nothing binds me to this place, not yet. I am not king. I have sworn no oaths, and the crown and sceptre are lost. The throne and the halls are buried, and the vaults and troves and thindrongols are all empty or lost. I’m just one amongst a few thousand Ekrundfolk that has been unlucky enough to survive this long.’

  ‘Unlucky? Why unlucky?’

  ‘Wouldn’t it have been better, don’t you think, to have died earlier, spared this deprivation and slow death? I wonder if the doom of Ekrund was when the Angboks survived that patrol. If you’d been slain, the orcs would have come upon us totally unprepared. It would have been brutal, but swift. Almost a clean end.’

  ‘Never,’ said Haldora, amazed that he would suggest such a thing. ‘Life just is, and no matter how bad it gets, it’s better than being dead.’

  ‘Without honour? Without a home? Is that really the existence we want?’

  ‘I ain’t planning on dying any time soon,’ said Haldora, annoyed and suddenly conscious of the growing noise of the orcs and the passing of time. She grabbed Horthrad’s iron-clad arm, feeling the embossed metal beneath her fingertips, a curling dragon chased in gold along his vambrace. ‘And neither do you, otherwise you’d have just about hit the bottom by now.’

  He looked so sad and alone in that moment, helpless against the troubles of the world. It nearly broke Haldora’s heart to see him like this.

  ‘I have people…’ he whispered. ‘Loyal retainers.’

  ‘A couple, maybe, can come with us,’ Haldora said. ‘We need to be quick and sneaky, not a big throng that’s going to draw in every orc and troll in the mountains.’

  ‘It’s hard, leaving them behind,’ he told her, looking over his shoulder into the hall behind the gallery. ‘Maybe it would be better though.’

  She did not have time for him to work up a list of justifications.

  ‘You’re doing the right thing, but we can’t dally about,’ she said, tugging his arm. ‘Either come or don’t, we don’t have the luxury of being forlorn about it.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said the prince, setting his face stern. Haldora knew herself how odd it was that simply forcing one’s expression to change could also affect the inner mood so easily. Heart cajoled by head, every time. ‘No regrets.’

  He followed her off the gallery and into the tunnels.

  When they met up again with the others, all was ready for the journey. Nakka and a few of his kin were there, though sadly not Vadlir or his mother. They had died defending the tunnels near the East Gate some time before. Fleinn and Durk were there, with Durk’s wife Hildrazeth, and another couple of Haldora’s cousins – Jorgrim and Skolli. Glorri had left a little earlier to make sure that everything was in order, and they waited for his return.

  Fleinn raised an eyebrow at the prince, who stood to one side, keeping his own counsel, and then patted Haldora’s hand.

  ‘Your father always meant well. He was dependable, and that’s the nicest thing he would have wanted anyone to say. I can’t say as I thought I’d see the day he took the Last Oath, but I’m not surprised he did it for his family.’

  There was nothing Haldora felt like saying, so she simply smiled in appreciation of Fleinn’s words. She caught Nakka looking at her oddly and moved down the tunnel to stand with him.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ she asked.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ Nakka said, glancing at Horthrad.

  ‘Ma’s idea,’ Haldora said quietly, in case the prince heard her. ‘Thought it would be good to have some royalty along. Open doors, and suchlike.’

  ‘No other reasons?’ he asked.

  Haldora felt no urge to indulge his jealousy. She tutted, gave him a kiss on the cheek and then left him to his sullen mood to wait with her mother and Skraffi.

  A blue haze spread along the corridor and they turned as Glorri appeared, a rune-lamp in one hand and a small pick in the other. His pack was quite full, and Haldora thought she saw gold glinting beneath the buckled flap.

  ‘All ready?’ asked the ranger. He didn’t wait for a reply before turning back down the tunnel. ‘Follow me.’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

 

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