The Blades of Chaos (Slaves to Darkness Book 2) by Gav Thorpe

Author:Gav Thorpe [Thorpe, Gav]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2011-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Warnings

Arabian coast, Early summer 1711

Ursula had heard the expression of having one’s breath taken away, but she had never truly understood its meaning until she entered the King’s Hall of Karak Norn. For three weeks they had been staying in the dwarf hold at King Hunkrik’s invitation. Thane Grundab, who had led the counter-attack against the orcs and goblins, had initially bid them to turn back and return to Middenheim. He had become even more adamant when Lady Halste had made her mission known to him, but in the end grudgingly conceded to escort the survivors of the caravan to his king.

Since then they had been effectively the dwarf’s prisoners – though their every need was attended to. The dwarfs were courteous and, once the stories of the humans’ defeat of the giant began to spread, their hosts became positively welcoming, for dwarfs. However, despite the hospitality of the hold’s inhabitants, the expedition had been restricted to a few chambers close to the great gate by which they had entered. Their weapons, horses, mules, carts, baggage and anything the dwarfs considered even vaguely suspicious had been taken away to be stored elsewhere – though they were each given a neatly written receipt, in khazalid, for the possessions that had been confiscated.

On the twenty-fifth day of their luxurious captivity, Grundab had returned with his personal guard and told them that King Hunkrik, who was very busy by all accounts, could now give them an audience.

So it was that they had followed the greybeard from their chambers onto the main thoroughfare of the hold. It was a corridor wide enough for ten men to walk abreast without touching shoulders, and two dozen feet high. Carved from the rock of the mountain itself, it passed along through vaulted arches inscribed with scenes of mining, smithying, battles and treasure hordes. Smaller tunnels, just as neatly dug and trimmed, branched off at regular intervals, some level, others heading upward or downward or gently spiralling out of sight. Some of the archways led to stone steps and through a few of them Ursula spied wide bridges spanning chasms and deep caverns. On more than one occasion they heard the echoing trickle of underground streams.

They had been led on for several miles in this manner, neither turning nor pausing, until they were brought to a halt. Then, one-by-one, they had to pass through a small opening cut into the side of the main corridor, high enough only for a man to pass through at a stoop. As she passed beyond, Ursula had found herself in a round chamber, a hundred feet across at least, wherein were dotted scores of low chairs in neat rows.

‘Is this the King’s Hall?’ she had asked one of the dwarfs standing to either side of the opening they had been led through. The dwarf’s beard had bristled with indignation.

‘No,’ he had replied gruffly. ‘King’s Hall there!’

His pointing finger directed Ursula’s attention to the far wall. What she had taken for a

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