High Iron Page 22

  “What is it you want to do?”

  “I can share it only if you promise to help us.”

  “Annelle, you chose a very poor way to ask. I will only help Emmervale, and I will do it directly. And I will help these dwarves if I can.”

  “Will you?” she said. “You will help dwarves? If you can forget what they did to your people, you should be able to think of your interest with us and collaborate for your own good. But you have spoken.”

  I realized this was a question to me.

  “I have spoken,” I repeated.

  “Well. You bring up the dwarves. They will soon need all the help they can get.”

  “Why?”

  “The main force of Caranniam marches toward White Mount.”

  “White Mount? Why? What happened to attacking Stenhall?’

  “White Mount is closer to them. And it is more vulnerable, since its leader is gone.”

  “Herrar.”

  “Yes, Herrar. She was captured weeks ago. The dunters have her locked away.”

  I almost said something, to this, but caught myself.

  “How do you know this?” I asked.

  “It was always their plan, and our scouts have seen them moving. Varenlend is not defeated yet, and we have eyes on them.”

  “And what does Caranniam hope to achieve, destroying White Mount?”

  “They gain more time. A respite from steam, and iron, and gunpowder.”

  “And how can they hope to conquer White Mount? To conquer dwarves? I wondered the same thing when the attack on Stenhall was rumored. The dwarves can withdraw into the mountain, who knows how far. Who would want to go in after them? Would you?”

  “They do not plan on gunfire and swords in the tunnels, no,” she said. “The dwarves could collapse tunnels on top of them, if nothing else. Caranniam has other plans.”

  “Such as what? An army could besiege them, and eventually starve them out, but I don’t think Caranniam has the personnel.”

  “No, not that. Their plan is to make the tunnels unlivable.”

  “How would they do that?”

  “I don’t know exactly. They would not share the ideas with us. We believe it has to do with poisoning the air within, in some manner.”

  “Despicable,” I said.

  Now we heard shots closer by, outside. The sound was muffled, where we stood, but still audible.

  “They are pushing us back,” Annelle said.

  “Can you tell me the plan of the dunters?” I asked her. “You were with them, and they are still outside Emmervale. I believe they still intend to attack Stenhall, even without you. And even without their railroad.”

  “I would not be surprised,” she said. “The dunters needed to be led, but once they set their campaign in motion—I think they will continue. They are greedy for Stenhall, for one thing.”

  Now more guns outside. The shots still sounded unreal, in our dream space there, but I knew my companions could be under fire, and under spells as well.

  “I have to leave,” I said. “My group can’t get caught in this fight. Am I able to go?”

  “Just step forward, the way you were heading,” she said.

  I did so. With one step, the stairs became visible again.

  “Go,” she said. “We will see each other again.”

  With one more step, I was out of that plane—whatever it was—and starting down the stairs.

  Once outside the building I glanced left quickly and saw a man from Varenlend trotting toward me sideways. He was looking behind himself as he ran, keeping his musket pointed back at the pursuers from Caranniam. I caught glimpses of them, red forms down the old street. The ruins were filled with smoke and the smell of burnt powder. I hurried around a corner of the building and then headed the other direction.

  There were more gunshots as I ran, and more sounds of magic from the battle. These were mostly rumbles like thunder, but quick and close. There were also shouts as the Varenlenders coordinated their retreat, and the Caranniam force advanced.

  I dashed past buildings and rubble and reached the broken western wall without seeing anyone. The dwarves might have left me, but Jed and Britta, at least, would have waited.

  I found them all on the far side of the last bit of wall. The dwarves were on the verge of breaking away. Jed held the horse, with Hostenback mounted on it.

  Britta asked me: “Where were you?”

  “I entered,” I began to say, but dropped it and started over. “I saw that Varenlend woman I met years ago. Annelle. She is here, with these fugitives.”

  “We leave, now,” Maghran said. The dwarves headed away, and we followed. We ran due west.

  “Did you collar her for invading Emmervale?” Britta asked.

  “I was not able,” I said.

  “I know, I said that in jest. I’m sure she would not stand still for a collaring. Do you think she’ll survive? Will any of them?”

  “She seems like a survivor,” I said. “And she was well concealed.”

  We ran, putting Midwall behind us. Again I was able to watch dwarves attempting to sprint. They all must have done more running in these few weeks than was normal in a lifetime. Hostenback, meanwhile, seemed in pain as he held onto the horse. The animal was only trotting, not very quickly, but he was still jarred.

  Eventually we ran up a gentle hill, partway down the other side, and halted. We looked back at Midwall. There were flashes of light, and a visible cloud of dust had risen around it.

  “Still going at it,” Jed said. “I wonder they haven’t run out of powder, or become worn out with their magic.”

  “They may be at knives soon,” Maghran said.

  “Do you think we are far enough away to turn north?” I asked.

  “I believe so. Do you agree?”

  “I do.”

  “And then we shall soon move east,” he said. “Aiman, we’ve decided to attack that dunter army at the foot of our hill, and outside Emmervale. If it is still there. And if not, we’ll march out there so we can find it. Herrar and I have been speaking. She agrees it is time. And we think this would be a good opportunity, since all the erstwhile dunter allies are busy at each others’ throats, as we see.”

  “But Maghran—” I started.

  “We shall head now to White Mount,” he continued, “gather troops, and then head east. And then Ghranam will not say no when he sees that Herrar is along.”

  I considered withholding what I had just learned, but of course I could not. First, I would not have felt right doing so. Second, had the dwarves ever learned that I knew what I knew and didn’t tell them, that would have made them enemies of Emmervale for a hundred generations.

  “Actually, Maghran, Caranniam is going to attack White Mount.”

  “What?”

  “I just spoke with a leader of Varenlend, back there. That’s why I was detained. I met her years ago.”

  He looked at me, incredulous. I explained:

  “She came to Emmervale years ago and spoke to my family, Maghran. Because of who we are. And she was there just now. Running with the rest of the Varenlend group. I don’t know why she told me, but she did. The main force of Caranniam is on its way to White Mount.”

  “How would she know?” Herrar asked.

  “It had been their plan, she said. They shared it back when they were cooperating. And she says her countrymen have seen the Caranniam army on the move.”

  “I can’t believe they would dare,” Herrar said.

  “For one thing, they think you are not there,” I said. “All of them believe that. Including this woman I spoke to.”

  Herrar exchanged solemn looks with Ferlingas, Shanter, and Hostenback. Hostenback had sat up straight on the horse, again, as he listened to me.

  “You didn’t correct her?” she asked.

  “I did not. I thought it was just as well if they are mistaken.”

  “Indeed,” Herrar said. “Then we go home, now. As we planned. But if this news is true, we wil
l stay there.”

  I nodded at this. The four of them gathered, then, to talk with each other. I took this moment to pull Maghran aside.

  “If what you say is true,” he told me, “we must assist our cousins. And then we’ll likely send to Stenhall for even more help.”

  “Of course. I understand. But Maghran, I have a plan of my own. We can take down Red Gorge City.”

  “Now?” he asked. “What do you mean? That’s the last priority for Stenhall, with what you’ve just told us.”

  “I know. But we don’t have to do it ourselves. I’ve had an idea for some time, and our escape yesterday confirmed it. All we have to do is set allies on the path.”

  “Allies? Who are you talking about?”

  “The kobolds.”

  He blinked. “The dog-men? The servants? To do what—carry manure buckets with their left hands instead of their right?”

  “They can take over that city, Maghran. And they could cripple that expeditionary army as well.”

  He shook his head. “Kobolds? Aiman, I am not sure you are thinking straight.”

  “They could, Maghran. Think of how many of them there are. They could shut down the city, and cut down that expedition, just by all the kobolds walking away from their work.”

  “Stopping work? I don’t think that will give them firepower they need.”

  “It’s not about firepower. The kobolds do everything for the dunters, Maghran. Think about what we’ve seen. They farm. They transport everything. They lay track. They shovel coal. They hold the keys, even; they literally hold the keys to Red Gorge City. And I would be surprised if they don’t clean the muskets, cut the wads, cast the bullets, and mix the gunpowder.”

  Maghran was quiet again.

  “They do seem to do everything,” he said. “And you’re right about the farming. And they keep the livestock. And they do the cooking, such as it is.”

  “They do the cooking,” I repeated, nodding. “In addition to the farming. They could starve the dunters in a week.”

  “The dunters would slaughter them. Or try to.”

  “I don’t think the dunters could, if they’re not having their muskets handed to them and their powder carried for them. And without Caranniam or anyone else to lead them.”

  “So you mean an uprising. All the kobolds working together to take power.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How would they get the chance? How would they put that together?”

  “Think of how empty that city is right now,” I said. “There wouldn’t be enough dunters around to stop them. There are probably not even enough of them to notice anything going on.”

  “I suppose the kobolds might be able, if they wanted to,” he said. “But these kobolds have never thought this way. And it would be up to them to do so; we couldn’t instigate any such thing.”

  “We couldn’t, no. But that clan we saw by the Duchess could.”

  “That clan?”

  “The warren, yes.”

  This made him stop again and think. He was silent a moment as he considered.

  “I remember them well, of course,” he finally said. “Perhaps they could pull this off. If they were here. But they are far away.”

  “That could be fixed.”

  “You mean bring them out here?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How would you do that?”

  “Just tell them how wide open Red Gorge City is. They seem ambitious, and it’s theirs for the taking.”

  “Ride out there and invite them?” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  Maghran lowered his brows and looked painfully consternated.

  “You are serious,” he said.

  “I am. You saw how proud they are. You felt their ambition, didn’t you?”

  “Well. That little warren was well-armed, I agree. And they seemed organized. But there’s no way they have enough arms to win a full battle against these dunters.”

  “It would be kobold guns against dunter knives, if the kobolds took a night to prepare. If the local kobolds are raised up in a rebellion by their free cousins—think of it.”

  “You would ride out to that warren directly?”

  “Yes.”

  “So that’s why you were studying their language. You were planning this?”

  “I had the idea, yes. And now we saw from my jailer that they are willing to take risks for themselves, and even for us. I think they just need a kick, Maghran. And those others we met can give it to them.”

  “You think they’ll be willing?”

  “Willing to set themselves up as rulers of Red Gorge? Yes. And they’ve probably been ranging about, so they’ll know I speak the truth when I tell them the dunters have largely departed, and have left the city weak.”

  “Well. Aiman Marshalson, if this works, you’ll overtake your grandfather in fame.”

  “Fame.” I laughed. “I’d be glad to live my days as an unknown if we can put King Kobold What’s-His-Name on the throne of Red Gorge. Do you remember his name, by the way? Their leader?”

  “Korf.”

  “That’s it, Korf. I’m going to talk to him.”

  “Good luck to you, Aiman. Do your companions know?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good luck convincing them, also. I’ll tell Herrar. I don’t imagine she’ll think it wise.”

  “I would suspect not.”

  “And I’ll get Hostenback off that horse.” He turned away, but then stopped and spoke to me again.

  “And Aiman,” he said. “If this all works, and you put Korf in charge of Red Gorge.”

  “Yes?”

  “And he expresses any gratitude to you.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Try to get my axe back from him, will you?”

  “Certainly.”

  I turned back. Britta and Jed came up to me as Maghran went to speak with Hrond.

  “What was that all about?” Britta asked.

  “I’m going to have to take the horse. You two must head back to Emmervale.”

  “Why?”

  I told them the plan, as I had told it to Maghran. These two accepted it more enthusiastically. This was because of our own history.

  “That Chief Korf can lead his people out of servitude just like the Marshal took us out of ours,” Jed said.

  “Exactly. What we went through looks like a mountain holiday, compared to how these kobolds suffer. But look, you two have to move quickly to Emmervale. And somehow, if you can, you need to make sure that dunter army stays put. I hope they have not moved yet.”

  “Stays put?”

  “We need Red Gorge City empty when I come here with Korf and his clan. We don’t want that army to come back here.”

  “Very well, but what can we do to encourage the dunters to stay camped outside Emmervale?”

  “Well, don’t attack them, for one thing. I hope it hasn’t happened already. I’m sure Thona will not have done anything rash, but who knows. With all the men from Caranniam and Varenlend gone, she may feel confident enough to organize an attack.”

  “There were still many, many dunters without the men,” Britta said. “I doubt we would have struck them.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Perhaps we can send some sheep their way, for lunches,” Jed said. “That might encourage them to stay, and not return home.”

  “That’s actually not a bad idea,” I said. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “I was joking,” he said. “But I assume the dunters will still be waiting for those wagons of supplies we saw ready to leave Red Gorge. I don’t think they’ll have moved.”

  “It will take us days to get there,” Britta said.

  “I know. Just move as fast as you can.”

  “We won’t need to sleep.”

  “Rest as much as you need to stay safe,” I said.

  The Kurtenvold was a long way off, and unfortunately I would have to take a roundabout route, initially, to
get there. The shortest ways would have been due east or due south, but the first would have taken me through Midwall again, where the wizards might still be fighting, or where perhaps victorious Caranniam would be camping. The second route, due south, would have taken me through Red Gorge City. So I headed further west, and then south.

  Once again the horse seemed glad to have a proper rider—as opposed to packs, or a wounded dwarf—and an apparent direction to go. He had looked at me with some anticipation before we began, I thought, and I now patted him on the neck. I rode alone through the grasslands, trying to keep watch around me in all directions at once. I wished that my companions were with me, but we had only the single mount and I needed to get to the kobolds as fast as I could.

  In the afternoon I first noticed, far in the distance, patchwork colors of cultivated fields. I thought of the patient work the kobolds of Red Gorge would put into their wheat crop, so they could eventually harvest it, and ferment it, and make great batches of their awful zhirnga. I turned the horse a bit to the west so as to avoid these outskirts of Red Gorge City.

  Moving around the dunter home in this way took a depressingly long time. I did not want to get within eyeshot of even a single kobold field worker, so I gave the crops a wide berth. I kept them far on my left, barely visible. I thought about chancing a closer approach, and getting around the city forthwith in order to turn more quickly east toward the Kurtenvold; but I remembered I had made enough mistakes already in this adventure. I could not get myself captured again. And even before that particular slip I had almost been taken by dunters, while with Jed, and had lost track of a baron of Caranniam for a few vital minutes. Not to mention getting accosted by surprise by the group of elves by the railroad tracks.

  I rode with caution.

  Gradually I realized that I was indeed turning slowly to the left, making my way around Red Gorge. I wanted to at least get some distance away from it before I rested the horse for the night. After a few more hours I was finally heading due east.

  I kept going into evening. Eventually in the twilight I came to water, a small wet depression in the endless grassland that held some shrubs and, past them, a pool.

  There were no trees, so I tied the horse to the thickest bush I found. I spread a blanket and sat down.

  I had seldom felt so alone. I had monitored sheep for many, many days of my life, of course, but while doing that I was never far from our house and my family. All my travels so far after our eventful spring had been with the company of Jed, at least, and often Britta and others. Even in the dunter prison I had had the sullen dwarves for at least some conversation. Out here there was no one.