‘Underground, dead, or fleeing. You saw the dwarves who survived the battle; there’s not much left of this proud race.’ My words were unnecessarily harsh, but my worry for Tova was growing with each passing moment.
‘How can anyone do this to their own people?’ Ivar shook his head, but I had no answer for him. Mlot sacrificing his people was something I struggled to comprehend. It felt likethe unshakable dwarf, the warrior who’d fought by my side, had been driven to madness.
We neared the mines’ entrance. The massive carved archway led to a moving platform large enough to fit a horse and cart. The closer we came, the louder my heart hammered, the blood rushing until all I could hear was it roaring in my veins.
‘Please be there, you obstinate fool. Please be there,’ I muttered. The prayer to Svarog, god of the dwarves, slipped from my lips. I would crawl through those bloody mines if I had to, but I would deliver Tova back to her.
Not that I believed any god would listen to me. Those beings rarely granted mercy to praying kings, reserving their blessings for the chosen few. When we found the entrance devoid of any movement, just like the rest of this bloody city, I felt hope trickle away.
‘Ivar, find me men who aren’t afraid of moving through dark tunnels. We’re going down–’ I hadn’t finished the sentence when a shadow in the ornate carving moved. The doors burst open with the loud screaming of rusty hinges, and several people spilled out, startled to a halt at the sight of us.
‘My lord… spare us. Master Tova promised you were a fair man.’ An elderly dwarf dropped to his knees so close that my horse startled. ‘Please, spare us. We didn’t want this war.’
‘Tova? He’s still alive?’ I asked, fighting the relief flooding me at those words.
‘Alive? Yes. He was fighting the king’s men with those he freed from the cells, but we… we are no warriors, sire,’ he said, bowing even lower until I gestured to the soldier to help him up.
‘You worked in the mines?’ I asked.
‘Worked? No, I help the humans to farm the lands – the terraces, I mean. That was my job,’ he said proudly, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that most of those terraces were now a ruin of mud and rock.
‘But you know where these tunnels lead?’ I asked, a plan forming in my head.
‘I know the way to the court and the storage hall. The rest is only known to the miners as they constantly change.’
I turned to Ivar. ‘Gather the men; we found our guide.’ My commander nodded, but even without his orders, several soldiers stepped forward to volunteer. The old dwarf hesitated, but just as I thought I’d have to force his compliance, a younger dwarf stepped forward.
‘I’ll take you wherever you want. I know the mines.’
The clash of steel and fighting rang out even before we arrived at the lower level. Our guide pointed to a large corridor to the left. ‘There. It’s coming from the court.’
I rushed forward, grabbing a fallen axe from a corpse as I passed. My sword was useless in tight spaces, but an axe would work its sharp charm on my enemies.
Even running towards the battle raging in the distance, the beauty of this place took my breath away. The dwarves had created something exquisite that spoke to my warrior’s soul. Walls carved from the mountain gleamed in the flickering torches, the light multiplied by countless gemstones. The floor was granite, polished so smooth that I swore I was running on water.
A heavily blood-stained water, littered with corpses.
We burst into the throne room, stopping at a macabre barricade. Bodies, dozens of them, were piled in front of a small dais, with no thought to the dignity of their sacrifice. Mlot and his guards were making their last stand against Tova and his ragtag army. Each dwarf was so filthy and emaciated that itsurprised me they could lift their weapons, let alone swing them with the ferocity I witnessed. There were picks and shovels, the rare axe – all used with brutal efficiency. Unfortunately, against the better-armed warriors, they could only pin their opponents in place.
It was time to break this impasse. ‘Capture the king alive,’ I said. Instantly, my men joined the battle, but my attention was entirely on Tova. Mlot was fighting several others with the fury of a cornered badger. His face was wrinkled, his usually braided beard wild and bloodstained. The dwarven king, always so flamboyant in his choice of clothing, now wore threadbare and grimy rags. He was already injured. A deep gash split his cheek almost in half, but even now, Mlot was a powerful warrior.
He swung his axe at Tova’s head with a roar, but the tinkerer somehow deflected the blow, the edge scoring his shoulder and knocking him back.
‘Die, you motherfucker!’ Tova screamed, tears flowing down his cheeks. His attacks were wild and clumsy, but the king’s guards still stepped forward to block them, sparks flying when his axe met their armour. ‘You’ll fucking die for what you did to us!’
‘Protect the dwarf,’ I told my personal guards. His fury and grief would see him killed. I would not allow this. With my men joining the melee, the balance shifted. Tova’s men gained the upper hand until there were only a handful of Mlot’s men standing between their king and annihilation.
I called off the attack, helping drag back those too crazed to fall back, and faced the beleaguered enemy. ‘Surrender, and you’ll live,’ I said, facing the bodyguards.
Mlot, axe in hand, hurried to the throne. He sat down with slow deliberation, staring at me intensely, then leaned forward in challenge. His gaze was pure hatred. When I didn’t react, he grabbed his sceptre, hurling it at my head. The heavy gold roddidn’t even reach me, crashing to the floor next to the bodies of his people
‘You’re planning on sparing me as well?’ he spluttered, saliva gathering in the corner of his mouth. ‘It’s all your doing! Your wars! Your enemies! And that witch, that spy you planted in my kingdom…’ he said, pointing a trembling finger at me like he was still in charge.
‘My wars?’ I took a step closer. ‘Must I remind you that the Lich King threatened us all? Or did you forget about the Olgoi worms that feasted on the ore you mine here?’
Mlot’s maniacal laughter echoed around the chamber, blood now pouring from his wounded cheek. As I came closer, one thing became obvious, though it wasn’t the cut from the blade. ‘No, they wouldn’t. The srebrec would stop them. Srebrec will stop you all!’ He shook his head, screaming the last words to the rafters.
His voice faded, and a rattling cough shook his body. Mlot grabbed his collar and yanked it open. Just like his men, his skin was marred by pustules, one ruptured when he scratched his neck, and a foul stench filled the air.
