“Graghur created the monsters,” said Kormak.
Guttri twisted his head in the dwarf equivalent of a nod. “He is a fleshmoulder. He is the father of the Underlings just as Morloqua is the Mother of Dwarves. He hates her and he hates those who are her children.”
“And if we slay Graghur for you, you will help us?”
“What is it you seek?”
Karnea told him of the runes and the netherium. The old dwarf made a chopping gesture with his broad-fingered hand that indicated a negative.
“You will not help us?” Karnea said. Her voice was plaintive, her eyes downcast.
Guttri again made the chopping gesture. “I would if I could but I have not the skill to make the runes of which you speak. You must talk with Branhilde the Beautiful about such things. It would be her choice whether to share her secrets. If she has knowledge of the things you call Lost Runes. It may be your people know more of such things than we do now. As I said before we have lost much.”
“What about the netherium?” Kormak asked.
Guttri’s smile held grim amusement. “That is a bargain I cannot make in good faith.”
“What do you mean?” Karnea said.
“You will never get the netherium unless you kill Graghur.”
“Why?” Kormak asked.
“Because he controls the mine from which it comes. It is all in Underling territory now.”
A soft scratching came on the door. Guttri raised his head. His beard twitched faintly. His nostrils dilated. A frown creased his features.
“I smell death,” he said. The door opened and Verlek tumbled through it. A trail of blood stained the corridor behind his back. The red fluid pumped from his chest. Agony wracked his features. He was quite plainly dying.
“Treachery,” he groaned and collapsed at Guttri’s feet. The old dwarf bent over him and touched his brow.
“What happened?”
“Utti! Utti!” Verlek said. “He came to me after the moot—told me he was wrong. He had been sent to bring Kormak’s blade to him. He took it and then he stabbed me with it... I am dying.”
“Utti has my sword?” Kormak said. A cold hand gripped his heart.
“Aye,” said Verlek. “I am sorry, Kormak. He took me off guard. I betrayed your trust and I have not repaid my blood-debt.”
He reached upwards in a gesture of farewell then his muscular tattooed arm slumped to the ground. All life had spilled out of him.
Guttri rose to his feet and bellowed. “Find Utti! Have him brought to me. I would have an explanation of this!”
Kormak paused for a last look at the sad, lost face of Verlek before he followed Guttri down the ramp towards the vault into the Dwarfhold. They made for the Wall of Skulls.
A score of dwarves surrounded them. All of them were armed and all of them were wary and more than a few of them threw suspicious looks at Kormak and his companions. The central flame flickered and shadows danced across the rows and rows of skulls.
Ferik stomped in. A look of controlled anger burned in his face. The tendrils of his beard writhed with fury. “Utti is no longer within the Dwarfhold,” he said. “He left by the southern postern gate. I have sent Mankri to track him. ”
He tossed a sack at Kormak’s feet. “He has taken your sword with him. As far as I can tell all the rest of your possessions are there.”
Kormak opened the sack and found his Elder Signs and the other equipment Karnea had brought with her. She took the rune torque up and put it on her arm.
“Why has he taken the blade?” Karnea asked. “What good would it do him?”
“Perhaps he has gone to attempt to slay Graghur himself.” Ferik said. His tone was doubtful.
Guttri shook his head. “Utti is not the sort to seek glory. Nor is he the bravest of dwarves.”
“Then why?” Ferik demanded harshly. “And why slay my only surviving son.”
“You know why,” Guttri said.
Ferik turned and looked away. He squeezed his eyes shut. The muscles in his neck tightened. His fingers went white around the grips of his weapon. “No.”
“He always desired Branhilde. He took it badly when she chose you. And he always hated the boy. You know that.”
“No dwarf would do this though...”
“Verlek is dead. The sword is gone and Utti with it.” Guttri let the words hang in the air.
Ferik let out a howl of terrible rage and grief. “I will rip his head off with my bare hands,” he said. “No forbidden weapon will save him.”
“The question remains why he took it,” Guttri said.
“My son is dead and all you do is ask foolish questions,” Ferik said. Guttri’s response was mild.