Taker Of Skulls(41)

After a few minutes the violent flailing died away. The serpent thing lay still. The dwarf emerged from the archway in which it had been sheltering.





Karnea managed to get to the dwarf before Kormak did. She bounded passed the still-twitching corpse of the serpent thing and picked her way around the jellied remains of the giant to do so. She stood confronting the dwarf who stared back at her.

Kormak got to her side as fast as he could and studied the dwarf. He came only about halfway up Kormak’s chest but he was much broader. His arms were longer than a man’s and as muscular as a blacksmiths. His legs were short in proportion to his size. He was wearing leather britches and boots but his whole massively muscular upper body was naked, revealing detailed tattoos of dwarf runes. His beard was what held Kormak’s attention though. It was long and loose and ran almost to his belt. It swayed even though there was not a hint of a breeze. It reminded Kormak uncomfortably of the movement of the serpent thing.

“You killed the Slitherer,” said the dwarf. His language sounded very much like the tongue of the Old Ones. His voice was as deep and rich. There was a strange undertone to it though. In a man, Kormak would have said, of hysteria, but he did not know dwarves well enough to judge whether this was the case. “You bear one of the forbidden weapons.”

His great blind-seeming eyes focused on Kormak’s sword. His beard rippled, each individual hair like a tiny snake. Now that he was close enough Kormak could see that it was not composed of hairs but of almost translucent tubes.

The dwarf’s face superficially resembled that of a human. The eyes were much larger than a man’s. There seemed to be no whites and the only indication of a pupil and retina was an area darker than the rest. The ears were large and pointed. The nose was massive and broad, flattened against the face with huge nostrils. The mouth was wide. The teeth were like tombstones. A large rune had been tattooed in the middle of the dwarf’s forehead. More had been inscribed beneath his eyes.

“Greetings, Child of Stone,” said Karnea. The dwarf’s mouth fell open. His hand went to the great horn hanging from his neck as if he was considering sounding it and summoning help.

“You speak the Mother’s Tongue,” he said. His accent was strange to Kormak’s ears and the words sounded slurred and mangled. He had some difficulty understanding what the dwarf was saying.

“Not well but I have been taught it,” Karnea said. “Taught it by dwarves.”

She spoke very slowly and very clearly and it came to Kormak that she was having the same difficulty he was, and expected the dwarf to be having the same.

“Why would any of the People teach a Shadow worshipper?” The dwarf’s words were blunt. There did not seem to be any malice in them. It was as if he was unaware that he was making an accusation that could get him killed.

“We are not followers of the Shadow,” Karnea said. The dwarf tilted his head to one side. His grip on his axe tightened.

“All who dwell outside the Hold are worshippers of the Shadow,” he said.

“That is not true,” said Karnea.

“What are they saying?” Sasha asked Kormak. Kormak told her, dividing his attention between speaking to her and listening to what Karnea and the dwarf were talking about.

“He bears one of the forbidden blades,” said the dwarf. A nod of his head indicated Kormak. “One that bears the runes for Chaos and Death. They spell out a sentence of death for the Eldrim.” Eldrim was what the Old Ones called themselves. Their servants did too.

“It is a weapon consecrated to the service of Holy Sun,” said Kormak.

“The Sun was never our friend,” said the dwarf. “Nor the friend of those we once served.”

“Nor was he ever allied with the Shadow,” said Kormak.

“There may be truth in what you say,” said the dwarf.

“Why do you call the sword a forbidden weapon?” Karnea asked. “It was forged by your kin.”

“Not by my kin,” said the dwarf. “I belong to the Faithful. We have kept our oaths.”

Kormak was starting to realise that he did not understand dwarvish history as well as he thought. Clearly this powerful, primitive-looking creature had a different understanding of the world than the dwarves who were allied to his order. He bore no resemblance to the proud warriors the statues depicted either. He looked like a barbarian tribesman, not an artificer to False Gods. Something very strange had happened to the dwarves amid the rubble of Khazduroth.

The dwarf spoke again. “There is blood-debt between us. You saved my life and debts must be balanced,” the dwarf said.