The Fall of Dorkhun by D. A. Adams

Author:D. A. Adams [Adams, D. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9780976554721
Publisher: Third Axe Media
Published: 2005-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

***

The Kiredurks stood in well-formed lines along a ridge to the north of the gate. Even a few hundred yards away, the stench of the dead was pungent. The first line contained King Kraganere, Roskin, Krondious, Bordorn, and the generals. The second and third lines were infantry, stretching twice as wide as the front, the fourth and fifth crossbow archers, and the final the attendants. The wagons of food and gold were already on a path that led down the ridge and into the ogres’ camp. The king had decided not to include mules to pull the wagons, figuring the ogres could provide their own beasts of burden, so the wagons sat unhitched, guarded by the elite unit.

Across from them and a dozen yards down the ridge, the ogres stood in their lines, facing the dwarves and waiting. Roskin scanned their lines and found Vishghu, who stood in the second row near the center. He hadn’t been certain she would be there but was glad to see her, even under these circumstances. He wanted to speak to her and couldn’t reconcile that just a few months before they had fought together but now stood across from each other like enemies. He owed her his life and vowed one day to see that she was honored.

His father touched his elbow, and the two dwarves, king and heir, walked forward from the lines. Two ogres also walked to meet them. Roskin was dressed in new clothes tailored to fit his thinner frame. His sword was sheathed on his belt, and his axes, freshly polished and glinting in the morning light, were on his back. His father wore his best armor, also polished and shimmering, and carried his most elaborate battle axe. The two ogres wore their thickest furs and carried ornate clubs. As rehearsed, Roskin and his father stopped a few feet away and placed their weapons on the ground before moving closer. The ogres hesitated but then laid their clubs on the still dew-damp grass.

Once all four were within arm’s reach, the king spoke, going through the usual diplomatic etiquette, and the ogre across from him responded in kind. Roskin stood still and silent. Now that he was a little closer, he made eye contact with Vishghu and nodded. She returned the gesture, but neither smiled for fear of offending someone on the other side. Nonetheless, Roskin saw on her face that they were still friends, and that was enough. Once the king and the head matriarch had gone through the tactful routine, Roskin handed his father the final draft of the truce accord that had been signed by both king and heir. The king handed it to the matriarch, and she glanced over it to make sure nothing had been changed. Satisfied, she handed to the copy that had been sent to her earlier and contained her signature.

“You can leave a team here to bury your dead, and we will assist in any way necessary,” the king said, bowing slightly.

“We will send our best people to design and build a suitable monument.

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