Dark Thane

Jungor leaped down from the table and accosted the Hylar merchant angrily. "Who said anything about overthrowing the king?" he shouted. "Did anyone here even mention rebellion? May the gods forgive me for saying so- if Tarn Bellowgranite is behind this murderous attack on me, the evidence will be presented before the full council, in accordance with the law. I am a loyal thane of Thorbardin. My well-known dispute with Tarn Bellowgranite is restricted to the Council Hall. Let no one speak treason before me."

"Forgive me, my lord," Hextor cried, bowing low, almost to the floor.

Jungor turned to the doctor, smiling with his face like a mask of death. "Again, I thank you for your services. Forgive me if I was impatient."

"Not at all, my thane," the doctor answered nervously. He clutched his surgeon's bag to his chest as Astar led him to the door.

When the doctor had gone and the door was shut, Jungor spun back to face Hextor. "Fool!" he hissed. "Do you want to give everything away? Leave us! Astar, clear those people away from the door and await me at the stair."

Grudgingly, the two Hylar departed, leaving the thane alone with Ferro Dunskull.

Jungor returned to the examination table. Kicking over the bucket that still contained his lost eye, he sat down wearily and leaned his head against the leg of the table. A few drops of blood trickled down his face like teardrops from his gaping socket. Ferro came closer and stooped beside him, his hand nervously fluttering over Jungor's shoulder as though he were afraid to touch him.

"Is everything prepared?" Jungor asked in a low, tired voice.

"It is, my lord," Ferro whispered eagerly. "My scouts on the plains report that Tarn has left Pax Tharkas with a small party of guards. Everything is in readiness."

"Be careful," Jungor cautioned. "If anything should go awry, you know what must be done. It cannot be traced back to me."

"Nothing will go wrong, Thane Stonesinger. Tarn Bellowgranite will not reach Thorbardin alive."

8

Captain Ilbars Bleakfell stopped before the tent and muttered a curse as he scraped a clod of clinging black mud from his boot. Around him, half a dozen campfires burned wanly in the misty twilight, each with its company of five or six miserable dwarf warriors huddling near it against the damp and cold. Though still several hours before sunset, the sun had already been swallowed by the thick mist that hung perpetually over this place. Known as The Bog, this swampy region lay on the Plains of Dergoth north of Thorbardin, between the mountain and the ruined magical fortress of Zhaman.

"They call this a road?" Ilbars swore. "If this is a road, I'm a gully dwarf."

"You stand now on a wandering ridgeback of land that stretches from the plains in the north to Thorbardin in the south," Ferro Dunskull said as he exited the tent, wiping his mouth on the back of his dusky hand. The pungent aroma of dwarf spirits wafted before him, and he belched a contented sigh. Waving his hand at their gray, dripping surroundings, he continued, "To either side of this road stretch endless miles of sucking bogs, strangling mud, quicksand, and bottomless pools."

"Bah! Ridgeback of land!" the Daewar captain snorted. "There's a pool of water under my tent. And the flies!" He swatted the air about him, momentarily scattering the humming swarms of tiny bugs that hung perpetually around his head.

"You don't get out of Thorbardin much, do you?" Ferro commented in disgust.

"That's funny coming from a Daergar," Ilbars said with a sneer. "I thought you and your Theiwar were going to melt in the sun this morning."

"We suffer so that we may be the first to greet our king," Ferro answered dryly.

"An honor guard of Theiwar, led by a Daergar, come to welcome a Hylar king back to the mountain!" Ilbars laughed. "Why didn't they send gully dwarves and make a parade out of it?"

"You forget that Tarn Bellowgranite is half-Daergar by his mother," Ferro muttered as he pushed past the Daewar captain and edged close to their fire. Two Theiwar warriors grumbled as they made room for him.

"Now we Daewar, I can understand sending us to welcome the king," Ilbars continued, nodding his shaggy head toward a squad of the doughty warriors squatting around the next fire. "We're loyal and trustworthy. By my mother's beard, I wouldn't trust a Theiwar any farther than I could throw a spear."

Ferro spat into the fire and glanced at the two Theiwar warriors sharing their camp. They glared into the crackling flames, obviously holding their tongues firmly in their teeth. Because Captain Bleakfell had been ordered by the Council of Thanes to meet the king and escort him back to Thorbardin, they dared not challenge him directly. He was well known as a brash and arrogant commander of the Council Guard and a close friend of the Daewar thane, Rughar Delvestone.

"Well, at least we don't have any arrogant Hylar to deal with on this trip," Ilbars said, laughing.