Oathbreaker (Masters of Stone and Steel Book 3) by Nick Kyme

Author:Nick Kyme [Kyme, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2011-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

‘I can run no further,’ said Gromrund, puffing his cheeks and weighed down by his massive warhelm.

For almost an hour, Uthor’s throng had fled through darkened tunnels, down stairways and shafts, with no knowledge of their destination, desperately trying to put as much distance between them and their foes. They gathered now in some nondescript gallery, not nearly as grandiose as some of their previous accommodations, or as large. Gromrund, for one, was glad of it – it meant less places for their enemies to hide and ambush them.

Uthor turned to regard the hammerer, noting that several other dwarfs were bent over with hands on knees, breathing hard.

‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘We rest for a moment, but then we must move on. It’s possible that the others survived. If we can find a way through to reach them, we might–’

‘We are defeated, Uthor son of Algrim,’ Gromrund snapped. ‘Barely fifty remain out of the two hundred with which we entered. The rat-kin number in the thousands – you know this – and there are the grobi to consider as well.’

‘They may have worn each other down. If we were to take advantage of that…’ Uthor didn’t sound convincing.

‘Your vainglory will kill us all!’ Gromrund raged, squaring up to the thane, making his intentions clear.

‘And your courage deserts you, Karak Hirn dwarf. Why is it that you never remove that warhelm of yours? Is it to hide your shame?’ Uthor snarled.

A deathly hush filled the small gallery as the other dwarfs waited in the charged atmosphere, as the fight they all knew was coming slowly unfolded.

Gromrund bristled at the remark, Uthor near spitting the words at him. The hammerer clenched his fists.

‘Never, in all the generations of Tallhelms has this helmet ever been removed,’ he began levelly. ‘Only upon my death shall it be prized from my cold skull and given to the next in my line,’ he hissed through clenched teeth. ‘It is tradition, and to go against it would disrespect the memory of my father, Kromrund Tallhelm, and besmirch the honour of my clan,’ he concluded, beard bristling.

Uthor fell silent in an impotent rage.

‘Our fallen brothers,’ Gromrund continued darkly, now he had the thane of Karak Kadrin’s attention, ‘the needless death in pursuit of false honour… It ends now,’ he promised. ‘It is over, Uthor. You have brought enough shame to your clan.’

Uthor roared and right hooked the hammerer across the jaw. Gromrund staggered back, but like a prize-fighter, rolled on his booted heels and threw a punishing uppercut into Uthor’s chin. The thane was knocked off his feet, but got up quickly and drew his axe.

Gromrund hefted his great hammer, leather gauntlets cracking as he tested his grip.

‘I will show you the courage of Karak Hirn,’ he promised, with violent intent.

‘Come forward then,’ Uthor replied, beckoning him. ‘And I will knock that warhelm off your foolish head.’

‘Enough!’ A high-pitched voice rang out, shattering the violent mood. ‘Stop this, now.’

Borri, the Everpeak beardling, rushed to stand between the two dwarfs.

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