Verath the Red (Dragonwall Series #3)

Chapter 50 - Parting Ways Beneath the Mountain

Safuil

Mikkin followed his party into Dubrael's cavernous hall, fidgeting. They had waited three days for Dubrael's council to deliberate. Three days spent hoping the Dwargs would band together and fight Dragonwall's common enemy. In that time, Fik and Gro had shown them all over the city. There was something to be said for Dwargish hospitality.

Safuil's halls abounded with secrets. Mines that stretched to the center of the earth, vaults of hidden treasures—gems, priceless relics, coin enough to make every citizen in Dragonwall wildly rich—markets for trading, stages for plays and reenactments, underground fields of dirt for growing mushrooms and potatoes with light from shafts in the mountain. But most spectacular was the Hall of Memories. Here they found a garden of luminescent plants and statues portraying Dragonwall's history. Giant dragons carved from stone and gems. A stone forest that paid homage to the Sprites. Famous Dwargen lords. Even a few Drengr kings.

Mikkin and the others got lost for hours, wandering its vast depths. Even Unka appreciated it. He asked question after question in his broken language. Fik and Gro took some warming up, but eventually their love for telling stories outweighed their dislike of Gobelins.

And so it was they found themselves awaiting Dubrael's answer.

"Welcome, welcome," Dubrael said as he stood from his stone dais. This time, there were six Dwargs with him, three to each side of the stone steps. "Before you, stands Safuil's most prominent council members." He spread his arms wide.

Lord Averaen was at the head of their group. He bowed in greeting. "Have you an answer for us, Lord Dubrael?"

"I have." Dubrael sat back on his stone throne. "The Dwargs of Safuil have deliberated. While it took some convincing,"—his eyes darted, scowling, down to those standing before them—"we reached an agreement. While we would rather hide in our mountainous city, Dragonwall needs us. We will help where we can."

Lord Averaen's shoulders relaxed. "I am happy to hear it."

"Our fastest bird was selected. A message has been dispatched to King Talon. He will be informed of our allegiance. If he chooses to retaliate, our metalsmiths are at his service. Tomorrow, our forges will begin preparation. The Drengr will have armor as they did in the days of old. What we make for humans will provide the magic necessary to shield against dragon fire."

Lord Averaen nodded. "Armor would be most appreciated. What of weapons?"

"Oh yes. Of that we have plenty." Dubrael's smile was cunning. "Our vaults are well stocked."

"And what of the other Dwargs? Will they take up arms?"

Dubrael hesitated. "As I said before, I cannot answer for my compatriots. However, I think we might have a chance of persuading them. I would recommend those along the Northern Range, from here to Ice Port. Our tunnels connect us." He hesitated, glancing between them. "I will have envoys prepared. Perhaps some of you would like to accompany them? Explain the dire circumstances?"

Lord Averaen glanced over his shoulder and his eyes fell on Mikkin.

Mikkin stepped forward. "Count me in." Jamie did the same. To Mikkin's surprise, so did Berbik and Unka.

Unka had done naught but follow them around like a lapdog. He and the lad had developed an interesting relationship. If Mikkin wasn't mistaken, it appeared that Jamie cared for the poor creature. Something in Unka's willingness to help Jamie rescue him had won Jamie over. He no longer treated the Gobelin with disdain.

"Hm...an unlikely group." Dubrael nodded, but appeared pleased. "Very well. And what of you, Master Drengr?"

"I must return to Fort Edge. We do not know Kane's plans. While the wild dragons are busy at Fort Squall, my own fort could still be in danger."