(no subject)
Looking back on it now, Kim thinks--and not without bitterness-- that difficult things are getting to be habit.
Brought by the power of the Baelrath, the three of them had come, together, to stand before the bronze twinned doors that guarded the entrance into the kingdom of the Dwarves-- the kingdom under the twin mountains of Banir Lok and Banir Tal, with Calor Diman, the Crystal Lake, lying sheltered and hidden in the valley behind; the kingdom that had lost its true king forty years before when Matt Soren had left in anger.
He had not returned, not until now; had joined himself in partnership to Loren Silvercloak, source to the mage, and had denied the ceaseless tide of Calor Diman in his heart. Forty years, Kim had thought. Oh, Matt, how could you stand it?.
But he had, and it had been a sign of the greatness of his soul that as they stood there on the threshold of his heart's home, Matt's first words had been for his dearest friend. I regret nothing, Matt had said, his eyes upon the doors. Not a breath, not a moment, not the shadow of a moment, Loren, do you hear me? Nothing. I swear it to be truth. A pause, then, and he had added in a rough, harshly choked tone, I am glad, though, that the threads of my days have brought me to this place again, before the end.
Before the end. It may truly be that now, she knows, and it frightens her somewhat that she cannot see a clear path through the twisting threads. For even as she had turned away to give space to Matt's words, to the shining look on Loren's face, the ambush had fallen upon them.
They should have expected it. Perhaps Matt had, for even as they had fallen he had snatched the Baelrath from her finger and hidden it on his person-- safer there than anywhere else, at the moment. They had been brought to Seithr's Hall, before the council of the Dwarves and the listening ears of all the people there assembled, in order to present their case for judgment.
Things change in forty years, and for most of that time the Dwarves have been led -- although not ruled-- by Kaen. Kaen, who had delivered the Cauldron of Khath Meigol into the hand of Rakoth Maugrim. Kaen, who has even now sent the army of the Dwarves forth in support of the Unraveller. Kaen, whose words as he stood in the Hall and condemned them were pure and shining, beautifully crafted as diamonds... and utterly, utterly poisoned.
Matt's blunt response had torn asunder the webs of Kaen's melodious speech and shown the dark shape of what lay behind it, and an uproar had quickly ensued. The argument had been bitter and full of pain, and in the end Miach, leader of the council, had handed forth its decision.
It is said that Calor Diman never surrenders her kings, Miach had said, into the tense silence of the Hall. The question at issue here is whether a King can surrender the Lake. At sunset, we will go together to the shore and witness the answer, as both Matt and Kaen present an artifice for judgment by the waters. We will leave it to the lake.
That had been six hours ago. With a cold fear in her heart, Kim stands now beside a grimly silent Loren in the gathering darkness, under the sharp diamond-bright gleaming of the stars above this sheltered valley, and watches as the others gather.
Brought by the power of the Baelrath, the three of them had come, together, to stand before the bronze twinned doors that guarded the entrance into the kingdom of the Dwarves-- the kingdom under the twin mountains of Banir Lok and Banir Tal, with Calor Diman, the Crystal Lake, lying sheltered and hidden in the valley behind; the kingdom that had lost its true king forty years before when Matt Soren had left in anger.
He had not returned, not until now; had joined himself in partnership to Loren Silvercloak, source to the mage, and had denied the ceaseless tide of Calor Diman in his heart. Forty years, Kim had thought. Oh, Matt, how could you stand it?.
But he had, and it had been a sign of the greatness of his soul that as they stood there on the threshold of his heart's home, Matt's first words had been for his dearest friend. I regret nothing, Matt had said, his eyes upon the doors. Not a breath, not a moment, not the shadow of a moment, Loren, do you hear me? Nothing. I swear it to be truth. A pause, then, and he had added in a rough, harshly choked tone, I am glad, though, that the threads of my days have brought me to this place again, before the end.
Before the end. It may truly be that now, she knows, and it frightens her somewhat that she cannot see a clear path through the twisting threads. For even as she had turned away to give space to Matt's words, to the shining look on Loren's face, the ambush had fallen upon them.
They should have expected it. Perhaps Matt had, for even as they had fallen he had snatched the Baelrath from her finger and hidden it on his person-- safer there than anywhere else, at the moment. They had been brought to Seithr's Hall, before the council of the Dwarves and the listening ears of all the people there assembled, in order to present their case for judgment.
Things change in forty years, and for most of that time the Dwarves have been led -- although not ruled-- by Kaen. Kaen, who had delivered the Cauldron of Khath Meigol into the hand of Rakoth Maugrim. Kaen, who has even now sent the army of the Dwarves forth in support of the Unraveller. Kaen, whose words as he stood in the Hall and condemned them were pure and shining, beautifully crafted as diamonds... and utterly, utterly poisoned.
Matt's blunt response had torn asunder the webs of Kaen's melodious speech and shown the dark shape of what lay behind it, and an uproar had quickly ensued. The argument had been bitter and full of pain, and in the end Miach, leader of the council, had handed forth its decision.
It is said that Calor Diman never surrenders her kings, Miach had said, into the tense silence of the Hall. The question at issue here is whether a King can surrender the Lake. At sunset, we will go together to the shore and witness the answer, as both Matt and Kaen present an artifice for judgment by the waters. We will leave it to the lake.
That had been six hours ago. With a cold fear in her heart, Kim stands now beside a grimly silent Loren in the gathering darkness, under the sharp diamond-bright gleaming of the stars above this sheltered valley, and watches as the others gather.