The Swordsheath Scroll

'Rust and corruption,' Derkin muttered.

Behind him, Calan whispered to the elf, 'He reminds me of his father when he looks like that.'

'He will need to be as strong as his father,' Despaxas replied.

Derkin whirled on them, turning his back on the sad scene below. 'It's high time somebody put a stop to that atrocity,' he said. 'Humans don't belong in Kal-Thax. This land is for dwarves.'

'I couldn't agree more,' the elf said sympathetically.

'One would need an army to reclaim this territory,' Calan pointed out.

'Then I'll go to Thorbardin myself and bring back an army,' Derkin snapped.

'What army?' Calan shook his head. 'We've kept abreast of what's going on in Thorbardin. There is no army. Just a bunch of bickering clans barely kept in check by Jeron Redleather and Dunbarth Ironthumb, with every reliable follower they have working to police the under-mountain. Nobody is coming from there to help. Not until the time comes when Thorbardin has a real leader again, like in the old days.'

'There is an army,' Despaxas said softly. 'At least, there could be. But you won't find it in Thorbardin.'

Derkin frowned at the elf, hard Hylar eyes seeming to pierce him. 'Where, then?'

'Back there.' The elf gestured northward. 'Back where you just came from. The humans have a few hundred dwarves working these mines south of the pass, but there are nearly eight thousand dwarven slaves in all laboring in Klanath. They would make quite an army if they had the right leader.'

'You're crazy,' Derkin snapped. 'I'm free of there. I'm not going back.'

'Thaf s too bad,' Calan said. 'You know, those pit slaves back there are going to pay dearly for the two guards who died so unfortunately when we…'

'You murdered those men yourself!' Derkin spat. 'You cut their throats gleefully, and now you're worrying about who will be blamed?'

The elf pulled his cowl forward, hiding the slight smile that pulled at his cheeks. 'It was your escape, Derkin. Do you want to be responsible for the misery that will befall all those innocent dwarves?'

Derkin stood silent for a moment, looking from one to the other of his odd companions. Then his eyes narrowed. Glaring at Calan Silvertoe, he said, 'I wondered why you killed those guards. It seemed a needless, senseless thing to do. But you had a reason, didn't you, Daewar? I should have known. A Daewar always has a reason.'

'You're Hylar,' Calan said, 'and whatever else they might be, the Hylar do have strong notions of chivalry and honor.'

'And a strong distaste for manipulation,' Derkin snapped. 'I see it now. You planned it all out, the two of you. You want something from me. What is it?'

'We want the same thing you want,' Despaxas said softly. 'We want to drive Lord Kane's human invaders out of Kal-Thax and reestablish the boundary in the pass. To do that will require an army. An army of dwarves. We want you to mold that army and lead it.'

'Why me?'

'Because you can,' the elf said. 'Zephyr has read your soul, and we know your lineage. We know quite a lot about you, Derkin Winterseed. We have studied you for nearly a year.'

Derkin glared at him. 'Why?'

'Have you ever heard of an elf named Kith-Kanan?'

'Not that I remember. Why?'

'Kith-Kanan is a friend of my mother, Eloeth,' Despaxas said. 'Kith-Kanan has been concerned about the human emperor, Quivalin Soth, whose soul is the darkest Zephyr has ever seen. Kith-Kanan asked Eloeth for advice about Kal-Thax, because Klanath is so near to Kal-Thax and because Eloeth has dealt with dwarves. She, in turn, asked me to help, and I asked Calan, because he is my friend. He lost that arm saving my life nearly two hundred years ago.'

'That's fine.' Derkin glared at the elf. 'But it doesn't answer my question. Why all the interest in me?'

'Because of what we have learned about you.' Des-paxas shrugged. 'You are the direct descendant of Colin Stonetooth, who brought the dwarven thanes together when no one else could. You are also descended from Damon Omenborn, who was foretold to be the father of kings. You are kin of Cale Greeneye, and descendant of Willen Ironmaul, who led armies. You are the son of King Hal-Thwait of Thorbardin…'

'His name was Harl Thrustweight, and he was never king!' Derkin said angrily. 'Thorbardin has no king!'

'Oh, we know that,' the elf assured him. 'But it is a useful fiction for the outside world to believe. But you, Derkin Winterseed, you have the blood and the soul of mighty leaders, and those around you recognize that, whether they realize it or not. The slaves of Klanath will follow you. Some of them had decided to follow you already, even if you didn't want them to.'

'This whole thing is preposterous!' Derkin growled. He glared at Calan Silvertoe. 'You yourself told me that the slaves could not escape from the pits en masse. You said such a thing would never work.'

'Not an escape from inside.' The old dwarf shrugged. 'But an assault from outside, that's another thing.'

'An assault? By the three of us, I suppose? It would take hundreds of fighters just to get in, not to mention getting out again.'

Calan shrugged again, stepped to the south ledge of the pinnacle, and pointed downward. 'There are hundreds of dwarves down there, Derkin. And not nearly so many humans to contend with as across the pass at Klanath.'

Again Derkin stared at the two of them, first one and then the other, the one-armed old Daewar and the lithe, hooded elf.

'First mold an army, then lead it,' Despaxas coaxed. 'There is a great deal of difference between a mob of unruly dwarves-escaped slaves or whatever-and a dwarven army. Your Hylar ancestors proved that very well, in a time my mother remembers.'

Derkin stepped directly in front of the elf and reached up-the elf was nearly a foot taller than he was-to fling back the shadowing cowl. 'What's in this for you?' he demanded. 'Skip the part about Kith-Kanan and Eloeth. You're no dwarf, and neither are they. Why do elves care about the dwarven lands?'

Despaxas gazed at him with level eyes. 'A fair question,' he said. 'Lord Kane and his mine claimers are your problem, not ours. But the emperor, whom Lord Kane serves, has vast ambitions. Already he is moving forces onto the plains east of here, and beyond those plains lie elven lands. There will be war between the humans of Ergoth and the elves of Silvanesti, Derkin. It cannot be avoided. It will come, very soon. And it will be a long, hard war.'

'It isn't our war,' Derkin pointed out.

'In a way, it is,' the elf told him. 'The emperor will use Klanath as a base to equip and reinforce his human hordes against the elves, and we may be conquered because of it. Then Lord Kane's reward from the human emperor will be the dwarven lands.'

'I see,' Derkin breathed. 'So to disrupt the humans' supply lines, you plan a backfire here, using a dwarven army for your purposes.'

'For your purposes,' Despaxas said. 'Which will serve ours as well.'

'Devious,' Derkin sneered. 'Devious, but… well, maybe it makes sense, after a fashion.'

'Thank you,' the elf said. 'My mother will be pleased that you approve.'

'Approving is one thing,' old Calan snorted. 'Agreeing is something else. Do you agree to go along with this, Derkin?'

'I don't know,' the Hylar said slowly. 'What would I have to do first?'

'Get into the dwarven mines down there, organize the dwarves, get rid of the humans-there is only one foot company and a dozen or so slave tenders-then train the dwarves as an assault force and march on Klanath.'

'Oh, is that all?' Derkin's chuckle was cold and ironic. 'And exactly how do I do all that?'

'That's up to you,' the old dwarf said. 'You're the leader.'

'And while all this is going on, what's happening at Klanath?'

Despaxas pulled up his cowl again, covering his head. 'A diversion has been arranged there,' he said