But Belowground was not without perils of its own. The Dwarven environment was far from static; the Belowground breathed and moved as though it was a living creature rather than an inert mass of stone and earth. One such movement – a titanic shift in the plates of rock deep Belowground – destroyed the territory in which Hulm’s people had dwelt for millennia. Only a few had survived, none of them women or children. Those who still lived had no alternative other than to venture Aboveground.
There, they wandered in aimless sorrow, eking out a subsistence living as they attempted to find their way back Belowground. But they were no longer welcome in their old environs. For their fellow Dwarven considered them to be blighted by the disaster they had suffered. And they believed the wanderers carried the curse of that calamity with them. Thus, every time Hulm’s people ventured Belowground, they were met with sharp imprecations and sharper axe-blades.
They were a weary, disconsolate group when Kyroun and the Almovaads met them during their long journey west to Fiadol. When the Seer learned what had befallen them, he gave them more than sympathy. He offered them hope for a new life in a land far away from the disaster and subsequent rejection they had suffered. They needed only to become Believers in Almovaar.
And that is what they did.
During the most harrowing parts of the subsequent journey, the Dwarven had remained steadfast in their faith in Almovaar, and in the Seer’s vision. They had even trusted to their new god when the Almovaad ships took to the sea, an element the Dwarven instinctively disliked, as did the Tokoloshe.
And now ....
“Seer, you told us that every Almovaad would find a home on the other side of the Sea of Storms,” Hulm said, giving voice to what he truly felt rather than reciting the words he had rehearsed.
“Your people – the humans – have found a home among the Matile,” Hulm continued. “But the lands of your people could never be a true home for the Dwarven. It is not like that with the Tokoloshe. They are us; we are them. The Tokoloshe do not believe we are tainted by what happened to us in our lost home. They welcome us. And we accept that welcome.”
Hulm paused for a moment, still holding Kyroun’s gaze.
“Seer, Almovaar has fulfilled his promise to give us a new home,” he said. “And we will take Almovaar with us to the land of the Tokoloshe.”
“We worship many gods and spirits,” Bulamalayo interjected. “Your god saved us as well as you. We are grateful to him. He will be accepted among us.”
“We followed you because you said we were needed here,” Hulm said. “Now, we Dwarven are needed in the land of our friends. Like you, we cannot ignore that need.”
Hulm and the two Tokoloshe were not aware that that Gebrem and Kyroun had slipped momentarily into the Oneness. From the standpoint of an outside observer, the two rulers appeared to be listening intently to what the others were saying. And, to an extent, they were doing exactly that. But only to an extent.
Is this what Almovaar wants? Gebrem asked in the Oneness.
He hasn’t raised any objection, Kyroun replied.
We do not need another war ... yet, said Gebrem.
Then you will not have one.
The last voice was Almovaar’s.
At once, the two rulers departed the Oneness. For a time that stretched over an uncomfortable period, they regarded their visitors, who fought to conceal their growing anxiety as the silence deepened. Finally, the Emperor spoke, directing his words to the two Tokoloshe.
“Your ancestors came freely among us long ago,” he said. “And you may leave freely now. Go in peace.”
Apprehension changed immediately to relief for the three visitors. And they concealed that emotion just as diligently as they made their farewells to the two rulers and exited the chamber.
6
Preparations for the Tokoloshes’ departure from their Embassy had been uncommonly swift, but also orderly. The Tokoloshe gathered food, water and other provisions, all of which they would carry themselves, as they possessed no beasts of burden capable of travelling Belowground. The packs were huge, but they hefted them easily, for only the strongest of humans could come close to matching the physical might of the average Tokoloshe or Dwarven.
The mood was somber; even though many of the Tokoloshe had lived their entire lives in the Embassy and had yearned to visit their ancestral land. Despite that desire, they were still leaving the only home they had ever known.
Even though they had removed virtually all the Embassy’s accouterments as well, the Tokoloshe still felt the need to set potent sorcerous wards to forestall the attention of looters, as well as those who were merely curious about the forbidding, cube-shaped structure that had sat untouched and unvisited in their midst for such a long time. As it was, the Tokoloshe did not know whether or not their kind would ever return to live among the Matile.
Special care was taken with the two-headed drum, which held high sacred significance among the Tokoloshe. Although one of them could easily have handled its weight, it was carried reverently on an ornate litter by two Tokoloshe men.
When all the preparations were done, the inhabitants of the Embassy gathered in a long, double-file line that snaked through the corridor that would lead ever-deeper Belowground. The Fidi Dwarven did not separate themselves from the Tokoloshe, as they might have done when they first arrived in Khambawe. Most of them were beside the Tokoloshe women with whom they had mated. Only Hulm Stonehand stood alone, apart from Dwarven and Tokoloshe alike.
One-by-one, the light-spheres that illuminated the Embassy were extinguished. But the pitch-blackness that descended when the last sphere went dark lasted only a moment.
Standing at the front of the column, Rumundulu whispered a syllable of power, and
