Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [12]
“This is why I have called the council,” replied Luskag. “It is true that since the Rockfire sundered the underdark, separating us from the known world, we have dwelled in peaceful isolation. We have known no enemies, and the land has given us what we need to live.”
“Aye,” grunted several chiefs, for the history of their people was only a few centuries old, and most had heard the tale from older dwarves who had actually experienced the great war with the drow that had led to the Rockfire. Though that schism, terrifying in its magnitude and violence, had forever separated the desert dwarves from their kin in other parts of the Realms, it had also eliminated their most hated enemies, the drow. Through the centuries, the people of Luskag’s tribe had come to accept, if not praise, this exchange.
“And good years we have had, too,” observed Harl, the most venerable of the chiefs. Though his hair and beard were snow-white, the grizzled dwarf still marched proudly at the head of his tribesmen.
“So they should remain,” Pullog added, “lest we act foolishly and, in our rashness, ruin that which is our blessing. Rashness, such as the idea that we can make war on such monsters! Far better to remain in our villages, secure and hidden, until the scourge passes.”
“Would the years pass in peace, so be it,” Luskag spoke forcefully, and all the dwarves looked to him. “But it will not be so.”
He paused, mildly relieved that none argued with his point. In a moment, he continued. “You all know of the City of the Gods-greater, even, than splendid Nexal. Now it is too dry even to support a family of desert dwarves, yet still
it lies in the desert and continues to taunt us with its mysteries and wonders.”
“Aye,” Traj assented readily. “Oft I have journeyed to its rim, only to sit and gaze in wonder on the pyramid that rises from the desert, lifeless.”
“The gods have given us a blessing, even in that desolate place.” Luskag reached behind himself to pull forth a heavy lump of sandstone. With a grunt, he dropped it to the stone floor before him. Then he slowly removed his axe, so that the others could clearly see its gleaming stone blade, shiny black and as smooth as a mirror. Tufts of red, yellow, and green feathers encircled the haft just below the head.
“I have discovered obsidian in the city of the gods-great blocks of stone that we can craft into weapons.” He raised the axe and brought it down sharply on the block of sandstone. The rock burst apart, showering the dwarves with shards.
The blade, however, stuck clean and unshattered into a newly made crack across the floor.
“It seems that now our time of sanctuary draws to a close. The desert dwarves are once again drawn into the conflicts of the world, and we must be prepared to face this threat together.”
“Do not be hasty,” countered Pullog. “True, your demonstration of weaponry is impressive. Perhaps, armed thus, we could field a strong force. But how do we face this threat?”
“It is for that reason that I have called you here,” answered Luskag. “I ask, nay beg, that you all accompany me in the morning.
“I propose that we climb the great mountain and seek the wisdom of the Sunstone.”
* * * * *
“Don’t try to get up. Just rest.” Halloran tried to keep his voice level, but his concern for his wife emerged as taut fear. Erixitl lay on the soft ground beneath a canopy of cedars. The others, out of respect and worry, gave them space
to be alone. Around them, dawn had given way to full and already scorching daylight
‘I’m all right,” she replied, smiling gently. She reached for him, her fingers feeling cold and weak to Hal.
He clenched her hand as his eyes instinctively dropped to her belly. A slight swelling, unnoticeable to any but him, remained the only outward sign of the life that developed there. When he looked back to her face, his fear for that life as well as hers tightened his voice even further.
“We’ll stay here for a few days. Then, when we leave, you’ll ride a horse. Nothing but harm can come from these long marches, and I will not let