the unwanted elves 10 cliffie bonus

 

Unwanted Elves

Chapter 10

 

Our procession was taken into a chamber in the royal apartments where the king was waiting seated on a rather plain wood throne, the crown prince standing beside him to the King’s right. They were both dressed in workaday clothing, albeit of fine cloth. The Royal Guard who had escorted us remained having stepped back discretely.

As soon as he saw the king, Babiarz propped himself up on his elbow, thrust the other arm up in a dramatic gesture and shouted,

“Justice, justice your Majesty!” He shouted, “I have been foully attacked on my way to the duel. These miscreants attacked us from behind, encouraged by the outlander.”

Vesolmir opened his mouth to object, but I motioned him to silence.

The king, frowning slightly, turned to me.

“This is a grave charge, Towermaster; how do you answer it?” Asked the king.

“To begin with, your Majesty, for three to attack six seems somewhat unlikely.” I replied as calmly as I could. The accusation could lead to serious consequences.

“They attacked from behind, which is why I am wounded.” Babiarz interrupted.

“If we attacked from behind, why is the wound on the front of your thigh?” I asked, in a very reasonable tone of voice. Babiarz let his mouth fall open foolishly and I continued speaking . “There is some truth in the story your Majesty.” At this the Crown Prince gasped audibly. “However it was Babiarz who waylaid us, and demanded the duel to take place at once in the corridor. The reason for this became apparent when Babiarz began to tire and he signalled to one of his... companions... to intervene.”

“That’s a lie, you filthy outlander!” Babiarz almost screamed.

“If you will ask, that one,” I said pointing at the dwarf who had tried to throw a stone, “to take his right hand from behind his back, you will see the truth of it.”

As the indicated dwarf seemed reluctant, at a signal from the king one of the guards grabbed the wrist and brought the hand into view.

“You will observe Your Majesty, the stone held in his hand which he tried to throw under Vesolmir’s foot so that he would slip and doubtless die in an ‘unfortunate accident’”. I stated, my voice controlled not to let my anger at this treachery out. “I used magic to stick the stone before it could be thrown. I then used magic to hold them in place, and thereafter started to take the treacherous louts to the authorities. I’m sure you’ve been informed about the subsequent events.”

“It’s all lies Your Majesty!” Shouted the one still grasping the stone. “We were threatened with the most vile curse if we didn’t do what he said. He said he would curse us into... into... beardlessness!”

The King and the Crown Prince looked shocked at this revelation.

“Did you indeed threaten this, Towermaster?” The King asked.

“I did threaten this, if they made any trouble, your Majesty.” I said, “The Dwarves are known far and wide for their honourable behaviour, even by their enemies. I was shocked and horrified to discover apparently several dwarves who are dishonourable in the extreme. If they behave without Dwarven honour they should be shown for the dastards they are.”

“Such an insult can only be wiped out in blood!” Babiarz shouted. Really, I wondered if he was capable of speaking in anything approaching a normal volume. “I demand a duel with this outlander, to the death!”

“Very well.” Said the King, “Call the Royal Bard to render a true account of this.”

My blood turned to ice at this pronouncement, even wounded as he was, Babiarz would make mincemeat of me, literally. I had forgotten, in the drama of the moment, that as challenged party I had choice of weapons.

“However, unlike his predecessor, the current Towermaster is not an honorary dwarf,” Said the King, And he must be represented by a champion. As he is my guest, he will be represented by my Champion, Chelloferg. Have him summoned.”

My sigh of relief, had its counterpart from Babiarz who gasped in horror judging by the expression on his face. I’m sure my expression softened as a hand I recognised as Chessina’s slipped into mine.

“But... but, Sire, I’m wounded.” Babiarz managed to stammer out.

“You were quite happy to fight against the Towermaster in that state.” The King sneered at Babiarz lying on his stretcher. “A man who knows nothing of axe combat. However, I won’t have it said that my Champion slew a wounded man.” He spoke to one of the guards, “Summon a healer.”

At this moment a dwarf entered the room. He had brownish hair and beard, and was dressed in relatively plain robes. He wasn’t particularly broad of shoulder and looked almost skinny compared to many dwarves. However, he stalked into the room like a cat, his stance perfectly balanced and ready to move in any direction at any moment. I recalled many years ago, Harmon pointing out a man who moved in an almost identical way to Chelloferg.

“Be wary of men who walk like that, they are consummate warriors and can be very dangerous.”

Chelloferg would have been very scary were it not for his laughter lines and the humour that lurked in his blue-green eyes.

I was concentrating so much on Chelloferg, that I almost missed the Royal Bard entering the chamber.

Chelloferg bowed to this king while, I noticed, never losing his concentration on those around him.

“You summoned me Sire.” Chelloferg spoke in a quiet but firm voice.

“Yes, Chelloferg,” The King replied, “Towermaster Castamir has been challenged to a duel, and being a guest, as well as a non dwarf I ask you to act in his stead. It is a death duel.” The King added.

Chelloferg bowed in acknowledgement and went to stand by the king’s throne, on the other side to the Crown Prince.

“I withdraw the challenge your Majesty!” Babiarz yelled in desperation, “I’m sure the Towermaster was just mistaken.”

“Babiarz, your family has been negligent in your education.” The King said, coldly. “You should know, that such a challenge, once given cannot be withdrawn. Not unless your family wishes to submit to vassalage to the Towermaster.”

Babiarz looked desperately at his cronies, and two of them made surreptitious moves towards their axes. Noises behind them made them turn. I observed, out of the corner of my eye, one of the Royal Guard move his wickedly sharp  halberd from a rest position held in one hand beside him, to a two handed grip with the weapon ready for use. Judging by the noises the other guards had moved likewise. The two who had moved froze.

At this point the tableau was interrupted by the arrival of a middle aged beardless female dwarf in healers’ robes. She moved to the King, bowed to him and looked expectant.

“Priestess Svatimira, Babiarz, lying there on that stretcher, has a thigh wound. He is to fight a duel so please heal it so he may fight.” The King explained.

“Yes, Sire.” The Priestess replied, bowing.

While Priestess Svatimira was tending his wound, Babiarz looked helplessly about him. The only dwarves who didn’t coldly glare at him, were his erstwhile companions who studiously avoided looking at him.

As the Priestess chanted, I felt the surge of magic, and saw the wound on Babiarz’s thigh, now uncovered, heal under the Priestess’ slightly glowing fingers. Shortly thereafter, she stood and nodded at the King.

“Thank you, Priestess Svatimira, you may withdraw.” Said the King. The Priestess bowed and complied.

“Apprentice Chessina, you may also withdraw.” The King added.

“Your Majesty,” Said Chessina, holding my hand tightly, “As you say, I am the Towermaster’s apprentice, not just his wife. As the duel involves my Master, I will remain to support him.”

“Very well.” The King replied.

At a sign from the King, two of his guards pulled Babiarz to his feet. Chelloferg glanced at the King and something passed between them without word. Chelloferg moved to face Babiarz a short distance away.

“Draw axes and begin.” The King intoned the ancient words.

While knowing almost nothing about axe fighting, it was clear that Babiarz was totally outclassed. He desperately tried to hit Chelloferg, but the wiry Champion was never there when the blow would have landed. Even I could tell that Chelloferg was waiting for something. When Babiarz made a particularly wild swing, Chelloferg stepped forward and with a precise stroke that demonstrated the incredible sharpness that dwarven craftsmanship could produce, cut the lower half of Babiarz’s beard away, without touching his clothing. For a moment Babiarz looked down helplessly at the large chunk of his beard on the ground. Then with a despairing cry, he turned and launched his axe directly at my head.

Instinctively, I put up my arm to shield my face. Instead of the axe hitting flesh and bone and then intense pain, I felt it hit my upraised arm, and saw Dragovar’s ring glow briefly and then heard the axe hit the ground, the sound almost drowned out by Chessina’s cry of anguish. I looked down, at the weapon that could have ended my life but for the ring. I do love magic, I thought to myself. I looked up in time to see Babiarz’s headless body start to fall, blood gushing from its neck. Where his head had gone, I neither knew nor cared. I was taking in what had happened when Chessina spoke.

“Master, my love, are you hurt?” Her voice betrayed her concern.

“No,” I replied, “Dragovar’s ring, saved me.”

“We owe him a very great deal.” Chessina said hugging me.

Although it felt like hours, only a short time had passed. Chelloferg cleaned his axe on a cloth handed to him, then he bowed to the King and said, “It is over. The Towermaster’s honour is unsullied.”

“Thank you Chelloferg.” Said the King.

“Indeed, you have my sincere thanks also.” I added bowing in respect to Chelloferg.

“It is my duty, and pleasure to serve my King.” He replied, returning my bow.

“Zbigov, as Royal Bard, did you observe this duel?” The King said in a formal tone of voice.

“I did, your Majesty.” The Bard replied.

“Please compose a song on the death of Babiarz Half-Beard the treacherous.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” He said.

Giving a dwarf the epithet ‘Half-Beard’ was an enormous insult. The King was ensuring that Babiarz’s name would live in infamy.

The King now turned to Babiarz’s cronies. “You have attempted to bring dishonour on Vesolmir and the Towermaster. Instead you have brought it on yourselves.” The King said, his voice dripping scorn. “None of you are henceforth welcome at Court or in the Capital. You have our leave to go. Oh, by the way Towermaster, would you be so good as to remove the stone from that one, it makes him look ridiculous.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” I replied, suiting actions to words.

“We will now withdraw.” The King said, “While this chamber is cleansed. Perhaps you would care to refresh yourselves?” The King indicated Chessina, myself, Vesolmir and Alvarek. We all followed, glad to be out of the rather bloody chamber.

 

oOo

 

We were shown into an ablutorium to wash our faces and do anything else that was needful, and after we had finished, we were conducted into a room that I can only describe as cosy. A table was laid with drinks and dainties and I was glad that the Dwarven Court’s idea of dainties was much more robust that any other court I had been to, not that I’d been to many. As I was eating my third deliciously spiced pastry the king spoke to Vesolmir.

“How did this all come about?”

“It was over my wife, sire.” Vesolmir replied. “Babiarz wants... wanted her. She rebuffed him but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He kept bothering her, so I told him to leave her alone, words were exchanged, and I challenged him to a duel. The rest you know.”

“I see.” Said the king. “Do you think you were forced into a duel?”

“To be honest sire, yes.” Vesolmir said.

“You had little choice.” The king said.

 

As we returned to our suite, we passed a work gang of dwarven miners in their distinctive garb. They wore gray tunics with a leather vest over it, the tunics brightly embroidered with formalised symbols. I knew, as I had been told, that each tunic was distinctive as bore visual identifiers of the owner, as sometimes cave ins made identification difficult. They also wore their miners helmets, although the magical lights weren’t active as the corridor was lit. They appeared to be making a side tunnel safe as they were working in one that was closed off with the crossed axe sign for danger.

Our spirits were lifted by their singing.

 

Oh, I’ll sing you a song of the rock of the face,

[Hey-ya-ho, haul the rocks down]

ʼTis hard or ʼtis soft, as we cut it apace

[Oh swing your pick to haul the rock down.]

 

Here is the granite, as hard as can be

It blunts all the tools, but it will not blunt me

 

Here is the shale that is treacherous soft

Watch that it doesn’t fall down from aloft

 

Here is the slate, cast in layers and beds

It shatters in shards, so watch out for your heads!

 

Here is the quartz with its minerals fine

This is the king of the deep dwarven mine

 

This sounds magnificent in the original Dwarvish, but do any of you speak Dwarvish? No, didn’t think so. If you did you’d be getting at me for not calling it Dwarren.