Dark Thane

But now, Tarn felt the blood well in his heart and burn like the fires of the molten earth bursting up through rents in the stone, searing through reason and sanity. Even his fears of the chaos dragon sleeping in its chamber beneath the city vanished in his lust for revenge. One thought remained to him. He would see Jungor Stonesinger dead for the murder of his wife. He would crush the Hylar thane's skull with the Hammer of Kharas, even if the blood of a fellow mountain dwarf defiled the holy weapon beyond any atonement.

"Death to Jungor Stonesinger!" he roared. "Death to all traitors!" He started toward the gate, outside of which a huge mob of dwarves waited for him to lead them on a rampage of revenge through Norbardin. Forty years of unresolved feuds boiled just beneath the surface, awaiting any excuse to explode.

But Ogduan Bloodspike stepped into his path. The old dwarf laid a restraining hand on the king's arm. And at his touch the red haze of battle evaporated from his vision, as though icy water had been dashed into his face. Tarn stepped back, fear and wonder in his eyes.

"That's not your wife," the old dwarf said. "I've been trying to tell you, but you are possessed."

"Wha… ?" Tarn glanced at the faces of the dwarves around him, noticing that one of the litter bearers was Haruk Mastersword.

"Haruk? What are you doing here?"

"This is not your wife," the young dwarf said. "This is a draconian that she and I killed. It was trying to murder her, and took her form in death."

"Draconian?" Tarn exclaimed. "Then Crystal is still alive?"

Haruk nodded, but his face was etched with lines of grief too deep for someone so young. His eyes, once so youthful, had the look of someone betrayed.

"Where is she?" Tarn demanded.

"Inside the residence."

"With Tor?"

No one answered. Haruk hung his head, his face flushed scarlet with shame. Tarn grabbed him by the shoulders and shook the young dwarf violently. "Tell me. What has happened to my son?" he cried.

40

The Hall of Thanes stood empty, its great echoing dome rising into the shadows high above. Tarn paused at the entrance and gazed around the rows of benches. In all his years, he had never seen this place not filled to capacity, the air thick with torch smoke and the reek of unwashed bodies. Now, the halls and balconies outside were vacant and dark.

A pall of fear hung over Norbardin. Its streets were silent save for the tramp of Jungor's soldiers. Patrols of Hylar and Theiwar warriors were scorning the streets and alleys, enforcing martial law with brutal efficiency. His people cowered in darkened rooms with their families gathered about them, behind bolted doors and shuttered windows, fearful of looking out and violating the laws of the new king of Thorbardin.

Tarn had doomed his people to this fate by agreeing to Jungor's terms. The Hylar thane had wasted no time seizing power, even before the Hammer of Kharas was delivered into his greedy hands. Martial law was ordered, dissenters and troublemakers imprisoned "for their own safety." From the ranks of dwarves still loyal to him, Jungor chose new thanes for the Hylar, Klar, Daergar, and Daewar clans. Dwarves who had always enjoyed the privilege of voting for their thanes or seeing them chosen in trials of combat learned of their new leaders by way of official proclamation.

Tomorrow, Jungor had promised, martial law would be rescinded and the normal daily activities of Thorbardin would resume, but Tarn didn't deceive himself that the new king would be a just ruler, nor that those already imprisoned would ever be released. The Council was filled with his puppets, the streets crowded with his soldiers.

Many of Tarn's own house guards had been "recruited" into Jungor's service. Less than a score of dwarves had volunteered to accompany Tarn to the empty Council Hall to complete the act that would hand over final power to the new king of Thorbardin.

His wife, Crystal Heathstone, was at his side, of course. Her face was stricken with grief and worry, so that he hardly recognized the beautiful young Neidar princess whom he had married not that many years ago. Though Jungor promised that Tor would not be harmed and would be handed over in exchange for the Hammer, she no longer trusted the decency or honor of any mountain dwarf, not after the brutal way they murdered Aunt Needlebone while kidnapping her son.

Mog Bonecutter carried the Hammer of Kharas before him, wrapped in a cloth of gold that had been stained black with the blood of Tor's nanny. Also in Tarn's small party was the ever-loyal Daewar general, Otaxx Shortbeard, whose own fortunes had risen and fallen with his king's. Haruk Mastersword escorted them as the representative of Jungor's new government. The others in their party consisted of a mixed dozen of Klar, Daergar, and Daewar warriors. Shahar Bellowsmoke, former thane of the Daergar and cousin of the king, walked at their rear beside the death skald, Ogduan Bloodspike.