‘Perhaps they will soon outnumber the dawi of the mountains and establish more forts.’
‘Ha!’ Snorri shook his head ruefully. ‘Between the elgi and the skarrenawi, the lands beyond the Worlds Edge will be thronged. It already feels crowded as it is.’
Morgrim nodded, ‘I know many amongst the clans, my father included, who think the elgi have encroached too far into the empire. Some believe we would be better–’
‘Hsst!’ Snorri held up a clenched fist. He stooped, looking up into the sky where the clouds conspired to obscure his view. Thunderheads were boiling and a low rumble echoed dully above them.
‘’Tis a storm, nothing more.’
‘Nah, there is something else…’ His eyes narrowed and he turned his ear to listen. ‘Can’t you hear it, a smack of something hitting air?’ He released his axe, and met Morgrim’s questioning gaze. ‘Wings, cousin.’
Morgrim’s brow furrowed. He heard it too.
‘Something big…’
‘And strong enough to defy the wind.’
Unslinging his hammer, Morgrim searched the sky but the growing storm was thick.
‘Perhaps old Silverthumb was right about that drakk.’
Snorri scowled. ‘Unless dwarfs have learned to fly, we need to leave the road. Now.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Sky Ship
The great rock Durazon commanded an unparalleled view over the lands neighbouring Barak Varr. Below the flanks of the mountain, several miles down, tributaries ran like veins of crystal, bleeding from the nearby Black Gulf in shimmering ribbons of azure. They fed valleys and farmland, filled the wells of the lower deeps and birthed three mighty water lanes – Blood River, Howling River and Skull River.
Heglan Copperfist, so named for his father who had discovered a vast seam of the ore and made his fortune trading it with the other clans, had sailed all three rivers. An engineer, Heglan had constructed the grubark he used to ply these waters himself and travelled as far as Karak Varn and Black Water.
Now his mind was occupied by an entirely different enterprise, one that forced his gaze upwards.
Great birds of prey circled in a platinum sky. Screech hawks and crag eagles, the majestic griffon vultures or talon owls, the red condor or the diminutive flocks of peak falcons, Heglan knew them all by size and appearance. Amongst his studies in engineering and the lessons of his guildmasters was an interest in ornithology. Some in the guild believed it to be an unhealthy one.
For as long as he could remember, ever since he was a beardling and his grandfather Dammin had taken him to look out at the wider world from the Durazon, Heglan had believed a ship could be made to fly. Not by growing wings or some such aberration, but by sailing the clouds.
Here, many hundreds of feet up in the high peaks, he would do just that.
Few dwarfs ventured onto the Durazon. Though it was over a hundred paces across, it ended in a crag which led to a sheer, vertiginous drop that for a people who lived most or all of their lives underground was uncomfortable. Not so for Heglan; he relished the sense of freedom he felt standing on this rock that jutted from the flanks of the Sea Hold.
‘Sun stone’ was its literal name and an apt one at that. The rock was wide and flat, perfect for what Heglan needed, and turned gold in summer when the sun was high and pierced the cloud veil. Winter was ending and the rising sun was obscured by storms rolling in from the south-west. Better days for flying would certainly come but with the guild’s patience almost exhausted, Heglan had no choice but to demonstrate his invention now. Frowning at the spreading path of darkness creeping towards them, he just hoped the weather would hold.
From the lofty heavens and the avian beasts he so envied, Heglan’s eyes were drawn downwards.
Arcing from peak to peak, resolute against the rigours of weather and war, were the skyroads. It was whilst crossing the passage from Barak Varr to Karak Drazh that inspiration first struck like a hammer swung by Grungni himself. Stone-clad bands that crossed the mountains through belts of thickening cloud and raucous gales, the skyroads had stood for thousands of years. Ever since the earliest days of the dwarf empire these lofty conduits had enabled those brave enough or surefooted enough to traverse between the holds.
Few did, because most believed a dwarf’s place was below the earth. Unlike the underway, however, the skyroads were not the lair of monsters. Great eagles and other flying beasts were a menace but stocky watchtowers punctuating the long spans provided warning and protection. Trolls and greenskins couldn’t touch these vaulted pathways.
Some engineers had even built ships to travel across them, great propeller-driven longboats that carried cargo and dwarfs by the score. Wind shear made widespread use of these ‘sky ships’ untenable as many had been torn off the skyroads in a strong gale and dashed on the ground far below. But despite its dangers, upon such a bridge a dwarf could literally walk the skies.
For Heglan it was as close as he could come to doing just that.
Until today.
‘Quite a sight, aren’t they?’ said Nadri, breathing deep as he regarded the monolithic skyroads.
‘Aye, they most certainly are, brother.’
‘I have heard standing upon them a dwarf can see the entire kingdom, from Karak Azgal in the south to Karak Ungor in the north.’
Like his brother, Heglan inhaled a full breath of the high mountain air and closed his eyes, remembering.
‘Indeed he can, but such a magnificent vista will pale compared to what I have in mind.’
Nadri clapped Heglan on the shoulder.
‘Ever with your head in the clouds, eh, Heg?’
Unlike his brother, who wore a leather apron with a belt of tools fastened around his ample waist, Nadri was more finely attired as befitted a merchant guildmaster. His
