The Revenge of the Dwarves Read Online Free Page A

undead life of Gronsha, the last of the scouting force sent out by Ushnotz, seeped away in the powerful hands of Flagur. The prince threw the cadaver to one side. “Kamdra, get the healer and the rune master,” he said, his voice strong, and he sat himself back onto the cushions, careful to ensure the sword did not snag in the fabric. Only now did he permit himself to show any sign of weakness: he grimaced. The excitement of combat and killing faded away.
    “What happens to him?” asked Kamdra, indicating the corpse.
    Flagur took up his short sword gingerly, sliced off a strip of calf-flesh from the dead Gronsha, and swirled it around in a bowl of water to get the dirt off. Then he put it in his mouth and chewed. The flavor was a strange one. “Delicious,” he said, and invited her to try the meat.
    Kamdra took a taste and her eyes widened. “I’d never have expected that. He stank so strongly I thought we’d have to leave the meat to soak for seven moons.” She bowed and hurried out to fetch the rune master and the healer for her lord.
    “Wait,” he called her back. “Send to the ubariu to say we have news for them. They will be very keen to learn what is happening in Girdlegard.” She nodded and left.
    Flagur couldn’t control his appetite and he ate several more strips of flesh from the delicacy he himself had selected and slaughtered. With prizes like that, Girdlegard held a definite attraction for himself and his followers.
    He stretched out his hand for the leather flask, opened it and sniffed the contents. The smell was appalling, and thefumes made his eyes water. Revolted, he tipped the liquid into the rubbish, throwing the empty flask along with it.
    The weapon piercing his body was torturing him, but he would survive. He put his faith in the help of Ubar, his god, and creator of his people.
    Around him everything started to swim. His pink eyes slid over toward the tent door, whence several vague shapes were drawing near. A voice close to his ear said, “Noble Lord, we are about to start. Be strong and may Ubar be with you.”
    “He will be,” muttered Flagur, tensing his muscles. “Get on with it.”

I
     
    Girdlegard
,
    The Gray Range on the Southern Boundary of the Fifthling Kingdom
,
    Spring, 6241st Solar Cycle
    T he last time I was here everything lay in ruins, Keen-Ears. But this… I’d never have expected
this
.” Tungdil Goldhand ruffled his gray pony’s mane. Amazed, he took the last bend in the mountain track, stopped and looked up to the top of the five-cornered tower that reached, imposing and impregnable, into the sky. “Not after just five sun cycles.” He used the impromptu halt to put his drinking flask, now nearly empty, to his parched mouth, letting the last few drops of brandy trickle down his throat. The alcohol stung his cracked lips.
    Passing the immense building that would have made even an ogre look small, he reached the plain in front of the entrance to the fifthling kingdom, ruled by the descendants of Giselbart Ironeye.
    It seemed only yesterday that he had led the twenty-strong reconnaissance troop here with his friend Boïndil and his current life-partner, Balyndis.
    On that journey they had made their way through a devastated landscape of ruins and moss-covered stones. Most of the fifthlings’ fortifications had been turned to rubble.
    Today a completely different scene met his eyes, a scene to gladden the proud heart of any child of the Smith.
    He was riding now past where they had drowned some of Ushnotz’s orc army. He saw that the pit had been filled in and covered over with black marble slabs bearing inscriptions in gold and in vraccasium to commemorate the glorious battle and honor the fallen dwarves. Each one of them a hero, they lived on in songs about the war.
    Nowhere was there the slightest trace of the weathered ruins Tungdil had once struggled through. All the old stones had been moved elsewhere. Blocks of light-colored granite and dark basalt rock