I fulfilled my mission—I had nothing left. My arms compelled me; my legs dragged me. Yes, I went where they wanted. I was so fast that I did not recognize myself. But if not, the scythes I carried would ignite, again reminding me that I was no longer master of my actions.
In that damned tunnel, I ceased to be master. My weapons, which I had so fondly admired, now guided me out of the protection my tribe had. The commander, despite the new strength he gave me with better food, without losing blood, succumbed to the power of that damned woman—an elf, no doubt, but of a different color. Not ashen like our skin; she did not wear her ancestors' protections—they were tanned hides. Her weapons, engraved with runes I did not know, ordered us. I felt them in my bones as before. At that moment, it was to defend, with our lives, those miserable dwarves from the hordes of night monsters. Even though I did not want to, when I realized it, I was facing the enemies, turning my back on whom we were supposed to eliminate.
My body stopped responding to me. For hours, my hands were stained with unholy blood. My eyes saw entrails. My ears bled from my goddess's call, but I could not go. I had to continue, forward, as now I traveled under the orders of one who was not of us. "Breeze of the Forest"—I would spit in your face... if my body allowed it.
I listened in silence. My magic allowed me to enter the walls without problems—I only had to push aside the matter around me, close it behind me. I did not pass through matter; it opened to let me pass. Inside was the dwarf they sent me to watch. As I listened, I knew the new mistress knew what was happening through my ears.
But all was not yet lost. While she listened, my leader, who was at her side, reported the situation by means that only we had. My communication rune was on my mother's chest. I did not have to speak; I only thought, and on her father's boots, there was a way to receive the information, without moving lips. Apparently, much was happening on the other side of the mountain. Apparently, they had arrived safely at the Great Forge. For now, they were activating the lava rivers. He said it was an impressive spectacle, transmitted a sensation of heat, well-being. But the dwarf I was watching—Chypher—left for the main dwarven city. The destination was the meeting hall in a palace. Reluctantly, I disconnected from the connection—it was important; the runes did not work while moving. As I followed him, stuck to the ceiling for days, I wondered: what was so important about a dwarf that the orders to protect him included sending the Drow clan's assassin?
The meeting hall was spacious, and strangely, I saw nothing resembling misery. All the dwarves outside lived on the edge, with their scarce belongings, almost like us. But here, it was evident that much existed—more than what was now visible. The halls looked empty, except for the table and some comfortable-looking chairs. As I hid behind a figure of a dwarf in full armor, carrying a shield and mace—I supposed it was from the previous king—several arrived, introducing themselves as governors of the most important cities in the dwarven kingdom.
I let my ears follow the conference while I connected with my commander. He told me everything was fine—they used the lava channels to weaken the attacking forces, then invaded to secure territories within the security perimeter. The advance was relatively slow, as several security gates had to be opened and where the molten rock had created stone blocks had to be dug. He said our people were eating and recovering little by little.
"Pay attention! "
The shout was so loud it pulled me out of the conversation. The rune went dark. Disconcerted, I looked everywhere. The hall was full, and everyone was shouting. I could only assume that the one who disconnected me from the commander was the elf woman, but I could not lose detail in case she suspected the rune. The one shouting loudest was Chypher. Apparently, they wanted to let the dwarves who were opening the tunnels die.
Typical of the greedy, I suppose. They answered all the support demands of who I supposed was the king and whom I guarded with logistics and benefit arguments. Most of these dwarves were better dressed than who was supposed to be king—jewels, armor with gold plates, and what I could only assume were ornamental weapons, since no one would throw diamond-encrusted axes... they were not practical, not accurate.
Chypher told them the tunnels needed the protection that only those who went to reactivate the central forge could provide. In that contingent went the last master engineers who provided all kinds of mechanized tools for the dwarves' lives. Besides, the chief advisor went, and if not for dwarven law, he would be a ruler equal to his person. They answered mockingly that he was elected because he represented continuity—Caliza was a pariah, received only due to his heroic nature, but that he had no value whatsoever for dwarven society. If he perished in some heroic deed, so much the better, as it would unify all dwarves under the banner of the most important cities they represented.
When the one who was supposed to be king left the hall, the others stayed. There, they spoke of assassinations in the shadows, of poisons in food, in bed, in the ear, and in weapons. All who spoke of removing him were the most ostentatious. The dwarf representatives of artisan cities like Tourmaline and Rocaceleste left angry but with little political power to interfere. Others were removed from the hall—those were small cities, including the one from the one who was on the outskirts fighting for his future. Those who remained, according to what my mistress told me, were merchant cities whose leaders supported the king in everything he sought and joined Chapatrueno's revolution on condition that their position in government and their fortune remain untouched. They were sure they could pretend to follow him for a couple of years, then remove him if he did not adapt to them. That would be easier now that he would have no one to advise him.
Even though it was not my concern, my blood heated. Was this the people saving my brothers and those dwarves? Did they not see that they would perish without their support? They allowed the Chaos agents to prevail, and in the end, no one would support them against the enemy. I heard the elf woman whisper, her perfect teeth clenched with rage. I agreed with her, even though I did not want to—this time, her orders would be a pleasure to fulfill.
The first was the ruler of Nickelhead. When everyone left, he approached where I was—at the feet of the monument. He pressed some hidden buttons that opened a box. After I finished with him, I saw the contents... Poisons! Many of them paralytic, a few lethal like the one that used blood from the mountain black spider. Without being told, I sank my blades into those jars. Their contents disappeared, absorbed by the dragon bone. Now I had work to do.
The work lasted two weeks. During the day, I watched over the king. Frustrated, he requested support from the different cities, but few troops could be sent that were expendable; otherwise, these cities would perish at the hands of the Chaos attackers. At night, I went to each of their houses. First, I paralyzed them; on the second visit, I gave them unbearable pain poisons. If they still did not support the king, they suffered what this last leader of the warrior city Deepdraken did:
When I arrived at his house, I saw it heavily guarded—soldiers everywhere. His son, Durkne, son of Drakeb, guarded his father zealously but advised him in private to support the king. That was why his father had him guarding outside, with the rest of the paid labor. The first wound he suffered was a cut to his garment—no one noticed the paralysis, as he was alone. There, while I watched him move his eyes frantically, I learned of the civilian Drow's recovery. I did not want to admit it, but they looked much better than when we lived in the shadow of the Spider Queen.
The second was a drop in his wine, falling from the ceiling, after his taster tried it. Now he had warriors in his main hall. Watching him writhe without anyone knowing anything was worth it. His son cried but could do no more. Now he was guarded by six warriors, and not even then did he allow poor Durkne to watch him in his chambers. He trusted hired muscles more than his own blood... good for me.
By the time his son entered, the head hung from my hand. The scythe made a clean cut. His guards were on the floor. The mist from one of the jars was a sleeping poison. The young man prepared his weapons, but before he could do anything, my mistress's voice boomed in the room:
"Your father conspired against the king. All who did so are like this. Their sons will take their place, just as you will take his. Caliza will return tomorrow. They have saved the kingdom. If you want your city not to fall, you must go to receive him. They come tired but without enemies. Be a good dwarf for the sake of Deepdraken, or Death in the Shadows will come."
At that moment, something pulled me out of there. I passed through the floor and walls and found myself outside, receiving permission to return. The king was safe. The other leaders' sons would follow him. I had six heads in the throne room awaiting them. There was no compassion from my mistress, and even if I had a little, I had more affection for her than at the beginning... at least until I mastered these weapons and could kill her. Death in the Shadows—that was what she named me. I liked it.