Dark Thane

Fleeing the shrieking Klar charge, the crowd was met on the other side of the plaza by Astar Trueshield, leading a large force of Hylar and Theiwar warriors-the best of Jungor's troops. Swirling in confusion, the crowd coiled upon itself for a moment, then turned and fled back the other way, quickly colliding with Tarn's small group of warriors. In seconds, he and Crystal found themselves separated from their bodyguards. Glint's voice roared about the din of the mob as he was carried away, axe flailing. Crystal clung desperately to Tarn's arm to keep them from being pulled apart, even as he laid about with the flat of his blade, to little avail. Soon, they found themselves swept into a close, cramped alley stinking of garbage, pressed murderously on all sides by the panicked mob and Jungor's troops. While clinging to one another and fighting to keep their feet beneath them, the tide swept them along, but to where, they did not know.

31

Having at last escaped the mob as it dissipated into the maze of streets and alleys of Norbardin, Tarn and Crystal hurried along a darkened street, hand in hand, each encouraging the other to greater speed.

Their fortress home was near enough now that they no longer kept to the shadows. The section of the third level nearest the fortress had remained loyal to Tarn through all the difficulties of the past year. Perhaps it was the inherent nature of neighbors to support their own. Dwarves were fiercely loyal to clan and family, but in Norbardin, many of the families had been forced to live in different sections of the city due to space limitations. There were, for instance, four Klar quarters of Norbardin and seven small enclaves of the Daergar clans. In some places, especially around Tarn's fortress, Klar and Daergar, Hylar and Theiwar lived side by side, shopped at the same markets, drank in the same taverns. Over the course of nearly forty years, they had begun to feel the same fierce loyalty for their neighbors that they had formerly reserved only for clan and family.

This had been Tarn's dream for his people all along, but it had only been manifested thus far in a few scattered portions of the city. Now the dream seemed lost. Jungor had succeeded in polarizing dwarven society into its ancient castes. But more important, he had brought together the disparate clans in a way Tarn could only dream of doing, though not for the mutual good of all. Though Jungor longed to return the Hylar to their place at the top of dwarven society, his followers were united by their mutual hatred. Tarn wondered if the whole world hadn't gone completely mad.

Here in his neighborhood, at least, things still seemed sane. Jungor's revolt had not spread, and the people, worn out with worry over the groundquake, had finally returned to their beds to catch an hour of sleep before the morning watch announced the new day. The street leading to the fortress's main gate was empty, but not completely silent. A child wept behind some door, its mother's soft voice crooning a lullaby. An alley behind a bakery grumbled with the snoring of contented gully dwarves.

Across the way, in the shadow of a tannery wall, something crouched on the ground, mewling pitifully. Tarn and Crystal skirted it warily, hands on their weapons. Probably it was only some drunken gully dwarf crawling home from his beer-mopping job. At the far end of the street they could see the torches burning beside the entrance to the fortress, and the guards in their hauberks and iron helms walking their watches.

A soft cry from the miserable creature stopped them. Tarn peered into the shadows for a moment. "That's no gully dwarf," he hissed. "It's too big. Stay here."

"Call the guards first," Crystal hissed after him.

But Tarn had already approached the creature, sword drawn. He nudged it with the toe of his boot, causing it to writhe like a snake. "What's the matter with you, old one? Too much dwarf spirits?" Suddenly, Tarn dropped his sword and fell to his knees with a cry. Crystal rushed to his side.

Tarn knelt on the walk, hugging Ghash Grisbane to his breast. The Klar warrior's body shuddered with spasms, bloody foam poured from his mouth. He clutched at Tarn's shoulder, finger's digging into the king's flesh. His distended, bloodshot eyes rolled in their sockets. Horrible purple veins streaked the flesh of his throat from beard to breast.

He tried to speak, his words a long tortured groan. "I came back for you, but you had already gone. Someone-"

"What happened, son?" Tarn cried. But Ghash was already gone. His wracked body slowly relaxed, his head sank back, the mouth open in a horrible, silent scream. "Ghash!" the king wailed, rocking back and forth with the corpse in his hands.

"Come, my love. It's too dangerous here," Crystal said softly, gently trying to pry Tarn's hands from the dead Klar's body. "We have to leave. We can come back in force to recover his body. But whoever killed him is probably still around."