Matthew Wuertz

         "The gate has been breeched!"  Sweat dripped from the man's helmet, trickling down his beard.  His breath was stale, which seemed a fitting match for his failing voice.

         I called out to the five men on the wall with me.  "Take to your swords, and follow me!  Drì Anem will not be lost today."

         Stone steps led us to within thirty yards of what was left of the gate.  The massive wood had been battered apart, leaving arm-sized splinters in the destruction.  One of the doors hung on but a single iron hinge, leaning precariously inward and threatening to collapse onto those who stood nearby.

         A hefty ram with a fist-shaped metal head lay dormant outside, its operators slain in the entryway.  As I watched the large fist sway from the chains supporting it, I heard the nearby cheers at its accomplishment.  We could not keep them out any longer.

         Beyond the ram, in the plains before the foothills of the Undain Mountains, the dwarf army charged into a barrage of arrows.  Our supply would not last more than a few rounds, but without the gate, it didn't matter.  "Jodithan," I said to the man who had brought me the news of the breech, "sound your trumpet after the next volley.  We need those men here with us."

         "Yes, sir!"

         Quietly, I prayed for guidance through the battle.  I heard others whispering Onarre's name while we stood still.  He was with me, I knew, even if my fate was to die that day.  In my heart, I felt he was telling me, "Take courage, and fight well."

         Jodithan's trumpet shrilly called out behind me.  Twice it beckoned, and those who answered jogged along the stone wall from the left and the right.  Some had so far to move that they seemed only to run in place. 

         Our numbers swelled into a thick cluster of armored men.  "You have fought well throughout this war," I said, hoping all could hear my loud remarks.  "I could not have mustered a better army in all the lands of men, for no others have your character.  Let us make an end of this army today by such a sound victory that minstrels will sing of our deeds centuries from now.  Falalith tàgâss!"  They echoed my final words, an expression in ìloâ that means, "Let battle come!"

          We gathered near the entrance, forming a semicircle around it.  Solemnly, I drew the two blades that had guarded my life throughout the war.  The men raised swords and clubs; many also held crude wooden shields coated with hides.  We all trusted our armaments, having learned their strengths and weaknesses over the past few years, and we would not fight with anything else, save in the uttermost need to do so.

         Jodithan stood to my right, shaking his head.  "They're starting that noise again."  It had been weeks since our last engagement with the dwarves, but when in larger numbers they would all sing (for lack of a better term) a long "o" sound at the same pitch.  Their breathing was staggered so that the sound remained constant, like a low horn blown by an endless wind.  I had thought the sound was laughable when I had first heard it, but the tactic had effectively silenced our own communications in a key battle, making it difficult to relay orders.

         "You all know what to do," I said to the group.  "Watch for visual cues."

         The lines of their army drew nearer.  I could see distinct faces and stare into their eyes.  By my count, there were seven thousand in their ranks, which outnumbered us more than nine to one.  Some armies might surrender under such odds, but there was never a need to consider the option, as it was not something the dwarves sought from us.

         Their song grew louder with their approach.  One man yelled a taunt and knocked his sword against his shield.  "Steady!" I shouted.

         The speed they moved at changed from a slow march to a run.  I could feel them in the stones beneath my boots as they came.  Some had reached the ram and were heaving it away to clear the path for the rest.  Soon nothing impeded the army's progress but the proud men around me, who had become soldiers by the tempering of war itself.

         Initially, the dwarves pushed against us like a sudden gale, greatly widening our arc and threatening to undo my only defensive strategy.  I had given up thirty yards before I was able to hold my ground.  The dwarf before me was too slow for my attacks, and I killed both him and another who stood behind him in the same advance.

         Crossing my blades, I caught an axe bearing straight for my chest.  Taking two steps forward, I threw the axe back and swung down upon the stunned dwarf.  Now with my third kill, I felt confident and urged those around me to move forward as I had done.

         When we had gained back about ten yards, I twisted my right knife over my head and then turned away from the fight.  Gradually, those who had served at the forefront shifted aside to let others take their places.  We stood behind the ensuing battle, resting but alert.

         "I thought they might knock us over in their first try," Jodithan said hoarsely.

         "Now that we're holding, get some men back up on the battlements," I said.

         "We haven't many arrows left, sir."

         "Use up every arrow we have and then use up anything else available to hurl down upon them, except the vats.  I don't care if we start tearing stones out of the wall, but we need to take this advantage while they lie exposed outside the gate."

         In the third hour of battle, the dwarves ceased their collective vocalization, and the relative quietness that followed took my ears time to get used to.  So loud was their noise that my ears buzzed continually with a high pitch.  Shouts from others were a bit muddled in my head, and I felt somewhat dizzy.

         Our defense was now only two lines of men who switched off every twenty to thirty minutes.  The rest lay dead or dying upon the ground, stacking up as many as four bodies deep in places.  One soldier called out from beneath the corpses of two dwarves, waving his arm limply, but we could not pause the fight to retrieve him.

         The dwarves had also lost quite a number as they tried desperately to break our ranks or push us out of our arc and into a straight line.  It was by Onarre's grace that the dwarves were content to press at us only through the broken gate.  They carried no ladders or other means of scaling the wall around Drì Anem, but as a precaution, I kept fifty men upon the battlements to repel any attempts to go over the wall, no matter how meager those attempts might be.

         It was grueling combat, and my arms and legs felt quite heavy.  There were bodies to trip over (or step on), and we often staggered our positions to adjust for the changing landscape of the dead.  Several times I lost my footing as the paving stones became slick with blood.

         Jodithan slapped my shoulder while I waited in the second rank.  "Where are they?" he asked.  His armor was spattered with dried gore, and his shield was cracked to the point of breaking.

         "They will come," I said.

         "Before or after our deaths?"

         I brought my face near his.  "Before.  Now, let's get into the front and relieve these men."

         One of my knives was lost.  I had thrust it into a dwarf's shield, and he had jerked away, taking the knife out of my grasp.  More pressing fights had stolen me away from the one with my knife, and I never found it.  Now armed with a single blade and a dwarven shield, I rushed to the front with Jodithan at my side.

         During our time in the front, our numbers dropped to the point that there could be no more relief for everyone fighting.  Some could drop back under great fatigue and find others to step forward, but there were at most twenty men (aside from those on the battlements) who were not directly engaged in warfare.  As this realization set in upon us, we became weak in spirit and gave more ground to the dwarves.

         Jodithan shouted, and I saw that an axe had notched his leg.  He slew the axe's wielder and then wrenched the weapon free.  I clambered over a pile of lifeless soldiers to get near him.  He had managed to tie a strip of cloth around the wound before I reached him, but he needed more serious treatment.  "Head to the barracks," I said.

         He shoved me aside, limping as he stepped towards me.  "I'm not heading anywhere!"

         I considered ordering him to leave, but his eyes were intense.  His nostrils flared with each inhale, and his teeth were locked together.  A man with such determination, even with an axe wound, is difficult to find, and I could not send such a soldier away from the battle he longed to fight.  "Then hold your ground, Jodithan."

         More cries went up, and I saw that our arc was losing its form.  As it straightened, additional dwarves poured through the gate, edging along the inside of the wall to broaden their front.  We could not retreat without being killed as we turned away, but even if we held for the moment, the dwarves would eventually encircle us.  Of ourselves, all we could do was to fight well to the end, which I realized was all that Onarre had asked of me.

         Fresh horns burst their notes through the cacophony of weapons striking metal, wood and bone.  I have heard many ballads sung by elves, but none were as moving as those played upon the horns in this dire hour.  It stirred my soul, and I shouted to encourage those near my position.

         I looked over to Jodithan, and he leaned against a mound of the fallen, his eyes towards the mountains.  "They have come!" I called out.  He nodded just enough for me to see his head slowly bob twice.

         What impact the elves were having upon the dwarves outside didn't seem to affect us in the least.  We needed to use anything else we could to turn the dwarves back, and I had but one thought.  "Dump the vats!  Pass the word." 

         My order circulated to the men on the wall, and I could see them working at the great, fire-heated cauldrons above the broken gate.  With deep creaks, the vats tumbled towards the inside, and their contents spilled over the crowd.  Screams rose with the smoke, and the smell of burning flesh combined itself with the other putrid aromas already present; it was a stench so strong that I nearly vomited.

         Three men ran the length of the battlement towards the east, and I wondered at their reason.  These were not men of cowardice, and I trusted that even now they were moving to benefit the rest of us.  "Help them in their task, Onarre," I prayed.

         The area immediately inside the entrance where the oil had been poured was clear.  Whatever skirmish that took place outside had drawn off additional reinforcements.  This offered little hope, though, as the dwarves already inside the fort had almost completely surrounded us and were slowly squeezing us together.

         Men were under pressure and becoming fatigued.  A soldier within my sight swung lazily, not even making contact with the dwarf he fought.  With one final, grand miss, the man waited for the dwarf to counter.  The soldier seemed almost to welcome the blade, succumbing to death as a relief.

         I struggled to keep my eyes open.  After each small victory, I found my head nodding a bit.  My thoughts tried to rationalize a way to sit down and rest.  To counter this, I screamed or slammed the handle of my knife against my helmet.  These were but quick shocks of energy that just as quickly dispersed, and I wondered at times if I had indeed fallen asleep and were merely dreaming of continuing the battle.

         From behind, I heard many feet advancing and believed the dwarves finally had us.  When I turned to look upon what I expected was an end to my mortality, I saw scores of elves.  They were coming from the east like a rush of wind, bringing with them the fury of a true ally.

         "Fall back, humans," one said.  Others repeated this as they took our places against the dwarves.  With each fresh contingent, the shape of the frontline straightened once more and then started bending in the opposite direction.

         The dwarves inside Drì Anem fell within the hour, freeing the elves in the fort to attend the wounded.  We didn't have the healing capabilities of the elves, and even in all my experiences with them, this was a skill I never learned.  The elves picked their way over all of the casualties to find those who could be saved, whether elf, human or dwarf (though the dwarves grumbled threats through their treatments).

         Outside, the battle continued until nightfall.  We took to our horses (what few we had) and helped the elves crush the remains of the dwarves' army.  Thousands had given their lives in the conflict on both sides, sacrificing themselves in the service of their people.  The price of both victory and defeat was hefty indeed.

         Scholars would later record the Battle of Drì Anem on the 21^st day of Tressim as, "a final victory against Uthov and his dwarves," yet this in and of itself did not end the war.  The final events took place days after this battle.  I was there, in the heart of Deřvinâss, when they came to pass.

         "Klevtrìth!"  An elf wearing a silly grin stood before me with his hand held up.  As I touched my fingertips to his, he said, "That beard isn't very fetching.  Aren't they supposed to go all the way up your face, not just over your chin?"

         "We can't all be as handsome as you, Yàrì," I replied.

         "Why, thank you."  Elves don't use sarcasm, and it was apparent that he had forgotten the way I used it occasionally.  Of course, he probably hadn't spoken my language much since I last saw him either, which would make it all the more difficult to recognize a difference of inflection in my voice.

         "How did you sleep?" he asked.

         "Quite well until your pounding upon the doorframe woke us."  My body had rested, but I didn't mention my recurring nightmare of darkness swallowing me up.  Shaking the unsettling thought from my mind, I glanced over my shoulder at the soldiers who still lay in their cots; only a few rose with me while the others attempted to return to their dreams.  "Let's move away from the barracks."

         Yàrì and I walked under a clouded sky that threatened rain.  He told me of the battle from his perspective, and I shared mine.  "Why did you expect us?" he asked.

         "Fairies told me you were in pursuit of the army and that you would arrive yesterday."

         "Fairies are speaking to you now?  They really do think you're an elf, lad.  Oh, I nearly forgot where we were going with all this talking.  I meant to bring you to our leader.  He's the one who sent for you, though I admit I would have found you for myself even if I wasn't on task."

         "It will be good to see Idìlm again," I replied.

         Yàrì shook his head.  "Idìlm is not the one who leads us.  He was slain in the northern campaign many months ago."

         My heart sank.  "I am grieved to hear that."

         The elves had cleared a path through the dead so that we could walk straight towards the permanently open gate and out.  Yàrì led me past the orderly elves who busied themselves with carting away the bodies for burial.  What seemed like grim work to me left no shadow upon their uplifted faces, but then I remembered how subtle their emotions displayed on their faces, and as I studied them closer, I realized the moment was quite difficult for them.

         "My lord, I found him," Yàrì said when we came to a small circle of elves northeast of the gate.

         I lost my breath for a moment as I recognized the one Yàrì addressed.  "Pàpo," I whispered.  Lùthìlm approached and beckoned me to stoop over.  He then kissed my cheek and told me that he loved me in ìloâ (for it was the only language he spoke).  As soon as I could recall the words, I said, "I love you, also."

         When he did not say anything at first, I said, "I have heard about Idìlm."

         Lùthìlm nodded, allowing a tear to fall.  "You are my only son, now," he said, embracing me a second time.

         "Just as you are my only father."

         "I wish this could be a time of reunion, Klevtrìth," he said as he released his grip on my shoulders, "but we must seek an end to this war.  Uthov will more than likely appeal for peace now that his last army has fallen."

         "We will only accept peace on the condition that all slaves are released," I said.

         "I suspected as much.  That is why we will liberate the slaves ourselves."  He began a slow pace.  "We've found a number of ways into Deřvinâss during the past three years, mapping some of the expanses within.  There is a cave about two hundred miles from here along the western edge of the Undains.  It is the most promising entrance we discovered, for it leads straight to the mines where the slaves labor and very near Uthov's palace (if it could be called such)."

         I clutched my hands.  "When do we leave?"  I asked.

         "Surely you are in no condition for such a journey," he said.

         "I have at least two hundred that are strong enough to ride.  I only lack the horses to accommodate so many.  How many do the elves number?  Four, perhaps five thousand?  That should be adequate to invade."

         "Your eyes deceive you, my son.  We have but two thousand who are able to go.  That may or may not be enough.  I don't know how many dwarves await us in that vast underground, but I am willing to take the risk.  If you want us to go in haste, we can be ready by first light tomorrow.  Gather whom you will for the task, and meet us here then."

         There wasn't a man I spoke with who wanted to remain behind, even if he was severely wounded.  We had less than fifty horses, so it was difficult for me to choose my companions.  As I was in the process of my final decision, Jodithan consulted with me upon the battlement, both of us looking towards the northern mountains as we spoke.

         "You've listed forty-five good men so far," he said.  "That leaves you and one other."

         "I was considering Thaddock.  He's not as fast as some of the others, but when he hits with his mace, he seldom needs to swing again."

         Jodithan took a breath.  "Thaddock is a good man, but I was thinking of another."

         I asked him about two or three others that seemed of equal caliber.  He turned in my direction.  "Why not me?"

         "Jodithan," I began, shaking my head, "it's impressive that you can move about at all, even at your slow pace.  You might not have trouble riding, but what pain would you suffer if you were forced to be on your feet?"

         "Walking is a tolerable pain.  Staying is not.  Since the day you freed me from that dwarf cage, I have been at your side."

         "I know that, Jodithan, and I could never have brought the other towns together without your help, much less make an army out of those men.  Your service has been invaluable to me."

         "Then take me with you, sir."  His eyes were wide, and his expression poured numerous memories into my mind.  Jodithan was my closest human friend, loyal without a fault, and I knew that I could not deny his request.

         On the second morning since battle, we said farewell to those of Drì Anem and departed towards the northwest.  The elves moved in front, marching at a rate that the horses easily matched.  Steep hills slowed our travel, offering only slight declinations on their far sides as they gradually built towards the first mountain in the chain.

         Like the previous day, the skies threatened rain, and the clouds would not withhold their contents past noon.  It was a steady drizzle accompanied by cold winds from the north.  Spring seemed to have retreated from us; the season was not a guest of the mountains.

         Day after day the horses splashed through the soaked grass.  The mountains loomed along our right, and we rode in their shadows each morning.  I was content to see the clouds finally roll on to the east, to the point that even the cooler weather seemed insignificant compared with the constant wetness.

         On the sixth day of travel, the elves stopped well before our usual first break.  I rode to the front with Jodithan.  Lùthìlm greeted us and told us the reason for the halt.  When Jodithan looked at me in a puzzled way, I translated for the glìssom.  "He says that we are near the entrance to Deřvinâss.  Ì ogràn thi dìsos ùd im skù?"

         "Sì," Lùthìlm answered.  He extended his arm towards one of the mountains.  "Ol àlt o pìd acloà evum sedâ glatoss."

         "He says the entrance is on that mountain, part-way up," I translated.

         "Well, we're following you, Klevtrìth," Jodithan replied.

         I smiled.  "And I follow the elves.  Crìâs àvoac, Pàpo."

         Up we went for more than two hours, but the snow was still far beyond us.  We followed a path cut through the rock.  This path inclined towards the mountain so that from below, it was concealed (dwarves were masters of hiding their routes).  The elves knew very few of the dwarves' secrets, though, and it was only by Onarre's grace that they were shown this very key trail into Deřvinâss.

         The elves walked at a human pace in rows of five, and we rode behind in single file.  I was glad for Jodithan's sake when we reached the cave because it was tall enough for us to remain on horseback.  This was the nearest I had ever been to the dwarven kingdom, and it was difficult for me to remain calm as I listened to the echoes of my horse's hooves falling upon the stone.

         Beyond, I could see small points of light.  Then, just in front of me, one of the elves retrieved something from a pack he wore.  I heard him striking rocks together, causing small sparks.  A second elf held tinder near, and it soon ignited.  Moments later, this elf raised a torch similar to the other lights I had seen when we had first entered.  It was to my own embarrassment that I realized we had no torches of our own, so we had to borrow from the elves.

         When we had been in the cave for an hour, we came to a tunnel carved into the rock.  The elves began marching four-wide, and I knew long before we came to the round opening that we could no longer ride (due to the low height).  When I made the decision, Jodithan said, "Then we walk."

         One of the elves told me that the cave was natural but that the dwarves had actually constructed this tunnel.  "You can tell their craft by the exactness of its shape and by the supports," the elf said.  Every ten feet, thin metal poles traced the curving walls up to a thick buckle at the roof of the tunnel.  Four of these poles, two on each side, joined together at the buckle, giving the support the appearance of an insect with spindly legs.

         Ahead, I saw fewer and fewer torches, a vision I thought quite strange until we came to the top of a stairway.  Each finely chiseled step left just enough room length-wise for one of my boots, and without a rail to grasp, I moved carefully.  Some of the men had a harder go of it than me, especially Jodithan, but I heard no verbal complaints as we descended the winding stair.

         The company soon stopped, and I leaned against the wall to take a rest.  I realized this was not a planned halt when I heard my name from below.  Moving between the rows of the elves, I followed the steps until they ended at the intersection of three other tunnels.

         "We can't stay together anymore," Lùthìlm said.  "I will lead half the elves in the left tunnel.  Yàrì will take the other half through the right tunnel."

         "I suppose that leaves the center for my group," I said.  "Do you have any idea where these tunnels might lead?"

         "All tunnels eventually lead to the palace.  My fear is that if we stay together, we could be entrapped."

         "Then we will see you at the palace," I replied.  He nodded.

         "Go with Onarre's blessing," Yàrì said, and he clapped me on the forearm.

         At first, I expected the three tunnels to converge once more after a short distance (I was truly naïve about the intricacy of dwarves).  Occasionally we saw passages branching off to the left or right, but I would not take them.  In my heart, I knew we must continue along the straight path, no matter where it might lead.

         "We're going to need more torches soon," Jodithan whispered from behind.

         "Feed them with whatever you can spare – material torn from our apparel, perhaps," I suggested.  "They must last."

         Jodithan set his hand upon my shoulder.  "What's that?"

         I strained my eyes and saw someone fifty yards ahead.  By his stature and manner of walking, I knew it was a dwarf.  He stopped momentarily, no doubt noticing our torches, and then hurried into one of the earthen corridors.

         "Follow him!" I shouted, and off I went, running ahead of the others.  When I darted into the dwarf's passageway, I found him again.  He was quick, but I was gaining ground on him.

         The tunnel opened into a vast area, and the torchlight did little to illuminate the cavern.  The floor ended abruptly not more than a few paces from me, and I heard a surge of water.  I paused to look over the cliff's edge (for I had lost the dwarf), and I could see the swirls of an underground river as it swept through a channel far below.

         To my right, I heard the dwarf grumble and followed the noise.  He was crossing a rope bridge over the canyon.  It wasn't much of a bridge; there were three main ropes: one for your feet and one for each arm.  The three were held together in places by shorter lengths of rope.

         With a silent prayer, I started out along the bridge.  Holding one of the ropes in my right hand and the torch in my other, I side-stepped my way along at a decent pace.  Though tempted to look ahead towards the dwarf or back at the tunnel where I heard the soldiers coming out, I kept moving one pace at a time.

         To my horror, the bridge took a terrible jolt.  On the far side of the canyon, the dwarf was striking the ropes with an axe.  When the first snapped free, I dropped my torch and fell forward, clinging to the rope at my feet.  Twice more the bridge shook until the final strand broke, and all I could do was tighten my hands as I rapidly swung towards one of the canyon walls.  After slamming into rock, my fingers sprang open, and I fell the rest of the way to a hard landing below.

         Water sloshed around me, but it was only a foot or two deep.  With some difficulty, I was able to stand and pick my way over to one of the walls.  From experience, I knew my left arm was broken, but that was the least of my concerns.  I now faced my nightmares; I was alone and in complete darkness, uncertain of where I was or how I would get out.

         "Klevtrìth!"  Looking up, I could see some torches.  It was Jodithan who called out to me.

         "I'm here."

         "Can you tell if there is any way to get back up?"

         "I can't see much from your lights, but I don't think so."

         After a pause, he asked, "What do you want us to do, sir?"

         I couldn't think of a good solution.  "Just go on without me.  I'm going to follow this river to wherever it goes.  Do what you can to stay the course from up there.  Perhaps I can get to you farther downstream."

         The men eventually had to turn back, saying that their path ended at another cliff.  It was difficult to part from them, but I could not easily turn against the current and retrace my steps as well.  I was determined to follow the river to whatever end Onarre led me to.

         My journey was lonely and dangerous.  I slipped and fell numerous times, and my armor did little to cushion my body.  Truly I felt quite abandoned: by the elves, my men and even Onarre.

         When I heard a voice singing, I wondered if I had struck my head and died, but it persisted even as I moved towards it.  There was a soft light just ahead, along the left bank.  In the glow, a delicate figure dipped something into the river for a moment and then stepped away.  Again, it returned to repeat the task.  By the third time, I had come to the water's edge, ready to confront it.

         A young lady, perhaps a few years younger than me, gasped when she saw me.  With a crash, the jug she had been holding broke upon the rocks.  "Who are you?" she asked.  She wore a rugged-looking garment, and her unkempt hair fell about carelessly, but her eyes were full and beautiful.

         I straightened my posture.  "I am called Klevtrìth.  Who are you?"

         "Eldana of Besann."

         "I lived just outside of Besann," I said quickly.  "Are there many of you still alive?"

         "Yes, but not all," she said, turning her eyes away.

         I took her arm, and she cringed.  "I mean you no harm," I said, "but I must ask if you know anyone from my family."

         Her face was blank until I mentioned Nadelle.  "Yes," she said, her eyes opening even wider, "I know Nadelle."

         "Then please take me to her."

         "What about the dwarves?"

         In my excitement, I had forgotten about my adversaries.  "Is there anyone able to fight?"

         "Some have tried in the past but were struck down," she said.  "We are quite strong, though, and if we had a gallant leader, such as yourself, we would take a stand once more."

         As I began to consider how best to organize an uprising, Eldana kissed me.  "For rescuing me," she explained, and she blushed.

         Uncertain as to how to react, I looked away.  A lantern hung from a long rod, casting shadows that blended into the outer darkness.  Near the lantern stood a beast of burden; it was twice as a large as a cow in girth but a little shorter.  I walked to the animal and brushed my hand over its rough skin.

         "I know where to find some weapons," Eldana said.  "Wait here, and I will return."  When I questioned how she could freely acquire weapons without arousing suspicion, she calmly replied that the dwarves trusted her.

         I waited for at least an hour for Eldana's return, sitting in absolute darkness next to the river.  During my solitude, I prayed.  For so many years, I had waited for the opportunity to see my family again, and now that I was close, I feared it would all be taken away.  Only by speaking with Onarre did I feel able to follow through on my mission and not to give in to my worries.

         A light came near, bobbing slowly with the lethargic steps of the dwarf beast.  Eldana motioned emphatically for me to come.  She lifted a blanket that lay across the beast's back, unveiling a collection of battleaxes.  "I've got something for you as well," she said.

         She held a tattered cloak out to me.  I wrapped it around my armor, wincing as I put my left arm through one of the sleeves.  Besides being tight around me, it was also a foot from the ground, revealing my boots.  When I pulled the hood over my helmet, I said, "This will work well enough."

         Eldana guided me away from the river, walking through a wide path edged with tooth-like rocks that rose from the ground.  The roof of the cavern loomed high above, mirroring the floor's structure.  The sight made me think of walking into the mouth of a great creature that would at any moment snap its jaws upon me.

         When we came to a mottled wall, there were three tunnels to choose from, and she chose the one on the right.  Behind us, the beast slipped through the entrance as easily as us, but when I watched its movement, I noticed that there was no more than an inch or two of leeway on either side of it.  It bellowed softly when it became aware of my staring, and I was half-tempted to apologize.

         As the sloshing of the river died away, it became eerily quiet for a noticeable period.  Clicking noises soon became part of the ambience, but these slowly overtook our footsteps, breathing and occasional coughs to dominate my thoughts.  "What is it that I'm hearing?" I whispered.

         "You hear the glory of the dwarven kingdom, Uthov's music of delight; that is the toil of your family and mine, and it is about to cease."  I was enamored with Eldana's spirit when she whispered those words to me.

         We stepped into another cave, but this was amply lit by scores of lanterns.  Several men walked past us, pulling small carts loaded with rocks.  On the exposed surfaces of the ever-expanding cave, slaves picked away, gathering small heaps of rubble at their feet that the cart-bearers would haul away.

         I felt something wisp past my face and heard a tap upon my shoulder.  A dwarf holding a long, wooden rod had come up beside me and was saying something harshly that I couldn't understand.  I responded by pushing him onto his backside.

         Two other dwarves I had failed to notice now moseyed over.  "You'll go in the stocks for that," one of them said to me.  "Come along peacefully, or we'll get rough."

         As soon as they reached out towards me, I kicked the speaker squarely in the chest.  My cloak had spread in the front when I raised my leg, and my armor was fully visible.  The remaining dwarf raised his eyebrows at the discovery and promptly ran away.

         "Men, women and children," I shouted, "in the name of Onarre, the elves and the allied towns of the southwest, I proclaim that you are free!  Come with me, and we shall overthrow Uthov's reign."

         There was not an immediate response to my announcement, and I wondered if I had said anything at all.  Eldana stepped forward and added, "This man speaks the truth!  Rise up against the dwarves."  She then stopped men with carts and handed them each an axe.  They looked over at me, and I discarded the robe to display my war gear.

         In equipping men with weaponry, we were breaking the spell of slavery.  The stockier men were in chains, and their whole countenances changed when we broke the links.  The eyes of these former slaves held a drive to fight and win, no matter the cost.

         The orderly labor had become chaos.  Fifty or so dwarves rushed into the area to quell the revolt, but the men would not relent.  Those we had not armed simply used their mining tools, which proved to be deadly weapons in the hands of the experienced miners.

         Only ten of the dwarves had been killed before the rest surrendered: a thing unheard of in the ranks of their warriors, but these were the slave drivers – too weak or too cowardly to fight in combat.  I helped to keep the men from pouring their wrath upon those who had thrown down their weapons, and we took what rope or chains that could be found and shackled the dwarves together to be dealt with at a later time.

         I was now divided in my mind.  I wanted to find my mother and sisters, but I knew we had but a small window of opportunity for surprising the rest of the dwarves.  When I prayed, the answer was very direct: that we must go on to Uthov's palace.

         To my right, a man with thin, grey hair and beard asked me who I was as we ran together with the rest of the men.  After I told him my name, he said, "Your face reminds me of a man I knew who died a long time ago.  He had a boy that would be about your age by now.  I never found out what happened to that boy.  He should have been taken with the rest of us, and I was the last one to see him alive."

         "You wouldn't happen to be a butcher by trade, would you?" I asked.

         "Why would you ask that, unless..."  He jogged a number of paces and then stopped me.  As men ran around us, he stood on his toes to look more closely at me.  "Narith?"

         I smiled.  "That was my name given at birth, but as I told you, I now go by Klevtrìth." 

         His arms wrapped around me, and he laughed loudly.  "You are alive, then!  I'd always felt responsible for your disappearance and feared the worst."

         I pulled back and nodded.  "Yes, I am alive.  Now, let's hurry on with the others.  Our reunion must wait until we have dealt with Uthov."

         The men knew the layout of the tunnels as well as the dwarves, and in a short time, we were in another spacious cavern large enough to hold two towns the size of Besann.  In the center was a great building, which could only be the palace.  The palace bowled out at the bottom and had a thin tower in the center.  The tower rose to nearly the height of the cavern and had a number of thin portals emitting red light.

         There was much shouting in this expanse but not from us.  Elves fought with dwarves along the left side of the palace, and the unarmored dwarves could do little to hold their ground.  More dwarves ran out of the palace, but few joined the melee.  The men ahead of me ran directly into the fight, and I was quite ready for another bout.

         Before I could join the elves, three dwarves in fine armor ran from the palace.  They paused briefly to look upon the elves and then upon the former slaves who streamed by.  In that still moment, I locked eyes with the one in the center, an older-looking dwarf with a long, silver beard and jeweled cap.  I knew in my heart that this was my longtime nemesis from afar, Uthov, the king of the dwarves.  We were only a few strong strides apart, close enough for me to see his mouth part; though I could not hear the dwarf's voice, I could observe by his tongue and teeth a single spoken word: ‘Klevtrìth.'

         I called many men to follow me, but few could understand my plight when there was already battle at hand.  "We must pursue Uthov!" I shouted.  Seven men, including the butcher, responded to my plea, and we sped to the right of the palace, trailing Uthov.

         We were closing the gap between the three dwarves and us, and we would have certainly had them in a short time if not for Uthov's cunning cowardice.  When we passed other dwarves, the dwarf king shouted orders to them, and they would come at us.  Some dwarves attacked with weapons while others simply smacked into us with all their strength to knock us flat.  Not one of us managed to avoid these aggressors, and though we were not seriously injured by them, they had Uthov's desired effect of hindering us long enough for him to escape into one of the passages.

         At the mouth of the corridor, rubble poured forth along with a choking dust and a long cackle of laughter.  When all had settled, we discovered that the entrance was completely sealed with debris.  I took one of the dwarves that had tripped me during the chase and asked him where the corridor led, speaking first in my native tongue and then in ìloâ.  Surprisingly, the dwarf nodded at the elvish language and replied with it.  "That runs to our treasury," he said.

         "Show us what other ways go there," I said.

         The dwarf shook his head.  "There are no other ways."

         "You're saying that Uthov sealed himself in there with no way out?" I asked.  He nodded slowly.  When I released him, he walked away with his head down. 

         Uthov was never seen alive again.  Whether the dwarves will leave his bones buried with their treasure for all times or not, I do not know.  But after having a sense of their persistent greed, I would be surprised if they do not one day seek to reopen Uthov's tomb and reclaim that which he took for himself on the final day of the war.

         I stared at the blocked tunnel for a long time.  This wasn't how I expected things to end.  My blade was not stained with Uthov's blood as I had imagined it.  In the final confrontation, my enemy had turned and fled.

         "Sir, are you alright?"  I turned towards Jodithan and nodded.  "It took us some time to get here.  I suppose we're late."

         "Have the elves defeated the dwarves?" I asked.

         "I suppose you could call it that," he replied.  "The fighting stopped, anyway.  It looks like there's a good deal of talking going on.  I'm not much for that, you know."

         The fighting had stopped when the dwarves received news of Uthov's departure.  Even the dwarves directly involved with oppressing the slaves had conceded to a momentary truce.  When I returned to the palace, the dwarves, with axes setting upon their closed fists, still looked ready to fight.

         "They are now free," I heard Lùthìlm say.

         A dwarf with a dark and dusty beard spat on the ground.  "Take them."

         "You understand that they will need provisions for their journey home," Lùthìlm said softly.  "Releasing them only to die along the way is not-"

         "Take what food you will for them, but take only what is needed," the dwarf grumbled.  "If you try to loot us, we will fight again."

         "Klevtrìth!"  I walked into a growing crowd, following the sound of Eldana's voice over the murmurs around me.  She stood with a bony, adolescent girl with hair that barely displayed its golden color beneath layers of dust.  "This is Nadelle."

         I pulled my helmet off and dropped it.  My breath came in spasms, and I shook as I spoke.  "Nadelle, it's me, your brother."  She looked at me with a curious expression.  "Do you remember me?  I'm Narith."

         Suddenly, tears flushed from her eyes.  "You used to wake me in the mornings," she said in a low voice.

         I rushed to my sister and held her.  "Nadelle, what happened to Saema and Mother?  Tell me nothing happened to them.  If the dwarves killed them, I'll claw my way into that pit Uthov put himself in with my bare hands."

         "I found them, too," Eldana said.

         A young woman who looked like an older version of Nadelle stepped towards us from the left.  "It is you, isn't it, Narith?" she asked.  "Momma, look.  It's Narith."

         Next to Saema was a woman slightly bent over with a face that hung loosely in places.  Her eyes were down for a moment, but she laboriously raised them to mine at Saema's request.  "Are you my boy?" she asked in a tired, wheezing voice.

         I let go of Nadelle and knelt before the older woman.  "You told me that you would give me a good many kisses as long as I was with you.  It's been a long time, Mother, but I'm with you now, and you can give me those good many kisses if you've still got them."

         Her face turned into the magical smile I remembered.  "Narith, I always prayed that I would see you again.  Onarre promised me that I would, and I never doubted it.  Oh, my son, my son!"  She kissed me a number of times and then held me to her as my sisters converged on either side of me; together again, the four of us simply clung to one another, weeping, laughing and thanking Onarre.

         In the depths of Deřvinâss, our family was only one of many reunions while the dwarves agreed to a lasting peace under a new king.  There were great days of feasts ahead, times in which humans and elves came together to celebrate victory and new friendships.  Much more happened in the years to follow when men of many nations sought to follow one king, but those tales must wait, for I haven't the time to share them now.

 

 

Copyright 2006, Matthew Wuertz

Matthew Wuertz is a computer programmer by day and fantasy writer by night.  The Sword Review is the first magazine in which his works have appeared.  Matthew and his wife reside in Indianapolis, Indiana along with three cats and an ever-changing number of fish.  To learn more about Matthew, please visit his website: www.matthewwuertz.com. 

 

 

Cover: "Butterfly Angel"

Copyright 2006, Kelley Pounds