Dark Thane

Jungor reached for the dagger he usually wore at his belt, but he had left it in the royal box in his haste. His sword lay on the ground on the other side of the arena. Weaponless, half blind, and weak with pain, he knew he had little chance of besting an armed foe as determined as Vault Forgesmoke. He had but one tactical choice-to accept a wound in order to come to grips with his opponent.

Jungor steeled his resolve and started to advance toward his opponent when something fell at his feet. At the same time, he heard a voice cry his name over the din of the crowd. He looked down and saw an ornate staff lying before him. He turned toward the voice and saw that once again the Theiwar thane Brecha Quickspring had come to his aid. She leaned over the barrier wall, crying his name and urging him to pick up the staff she had thrown to him.

Jungor had seen the staff in her hands at many meetings of the Council of Thanes. It was a wizard's staff, for Brecha Quickspring was one of the more powerful sorcerers of her clan. The Theiwar had an innate magical ability that allowed them to cast spells, unlike most dwarves, who feared and distrusted magic. The staff was made of some unidentifiable dark wood and mounted with a large round red stone set in gold.

Jungor reluctantly picked up the staff. Although he bore a natural prejudice against magic and doubted that it would prove much use against his Daergar opponent's heavy sword, he had few options. The staff felt surprisingly light in his hands, which only deepened his distrust. Surely it would shatter at the first blow. A staff was no weapon for a true warrior.

Vault Forgesmoke lifted his heavy curved sword and charged across the arena, bellowing a battle cry that eclipsed the deafening crowd. Jungor readied himself, still trying to blink away the last of the acid. Vault switched his blade to his left hand as he closed. Jungor turned to meet him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dagger appear in the Daergar's right hand and dart toward his unprotected left side.

Jungor dived under the Daergar's sword, away from the slashing dagger. At the same time, he swung around, smashing the butt of the staff into his opponent's left leg. Vault Forgesmoke stumbled with the momentum of his own attack, crumpling from a shattered kneecap. Jungor turned the staff and swung it with all his might against the Daergar's back before he had even hit the ground. As the staff slammed into his back, a flash of scarlet light burst from the red stone. Steel scale armor shattered like glass, and his spine sank beneath the blow, a sodden pulp of bone, meat, and nerve. Vault Forgesmoke dropped like a poleaxed hog.

As he fell, he rolled onto his back, his arms thrown wide to either side. He lay before Jungor, panting, paralyzed, his dark violet eyes wide with terror as he looked up at the Hylar thane's acid-stained visage. The crowd fell silent at the suddenness and violence of the attack.

"Mercy!" the Daergar cried weakly.

Snarling, Jungor tossed aside the staff and picked up the dagger his opponent had dropped. He knelt on Vault Forgesmoke's chest and with a violence that shocked even the most hardened warriors among the crowd, plunged the blade into his helpless opponent. Not satisfied, he sliced open the dwarfs body, reached inside, and dragged out his red, still-beating heart.

Jungor rose and approached the silent, horrified crowd, the Daergar's heart dangling from his fist.

"You want blood?" he screamed. "I give you blood!" With a wail of rage, he flung the organ into the stands. Blood spattered the faces of those in the front row, but they barely flinched. They sat mesmerized.

Jungor returned to stand over his vanquished opponent. His fists covered in gore, his right eye a milky ruin, he glared down at the dead Daergar warrior. "As thane of the Hylar, I bar your entrance to the Kingdom of the Dead, Vault Forgesmoke. For your treachery, your ghost shall wander the houseless mountains beyond the doors of Thorbardin forever!"

He turned and stalked toward the exit. As if released from a spell, the crowd erupted in wild cheers. Dwarves poured over the wall and into the arena, some to gather reverently around the Hylar thane, others to drag Vault Forgesmoke's body out of the arena. Astar Trueshield surged past them and raced to Jungor's side, Thane Brecha Quickspring following closely in his wake.

The Theiwar thane stopped only to retrieve her staff. To anyone who would listen, she cried, "I have the sight, and I saw Vault Forgesmoke's ghost obey Thane Stonesinger's command! I saw his ghost bow in obedience."

Those who heard her turned to Jungor with awe written into their features. "The dead obey him!" Thane Quickspring shouted over and over again, gleefully.

7

Jungor slapped the doctor's hand away from his face. "Clumsy oaf!" he spat, then snatched the bloody towel from the doctor's grasp and clapped it to his ruined eye. "Must I do everything for myself?"