“The humans told me this,” Xomhyrk roars. “They said us dwarves were not welcome on the surface. That our gold brings nothing but trouble! Bandits and worse!”

We've made camp on top of the hill opposite the town we planned to visit—translated from this particular region's human tongue, it's called Hillstone. As for this hill, I do not know if it has a name, but Xomhyrk regards it as easily defensible. It's too high, apparently, for arrows to easily reach us.

“Well, I don't care if we're not welcome. We must pass through their lands, and for the humans' own good too! Dragons do not attack only dwarves, after all.”

I can't help wondering, as I stand here in the ranks, if we're going to try and enter the town by force. I don't think it'll be much of a fight. Even from a distance I could easily tell that the humans were badly equipped, wearing what could barely be called armor, made of leather. As for the spears they wielded, they were crooked, and the arrows for their bows looked rather misshapen too.

The rains have cleared, and night has fallen. In the glow of the moon Xomhyrk's blued armor is illuminated in almost ghostly fashion. The tip of Icemite gleams cyan, yet there's no sign of the weapon he killed the horse with.

“So we will not give up," he continues. "We will enter the humans' town, and we will buy the supplies we need. We will show them dwarvish generosity. We will not steal, like the bandits they equate us with, but pay fairly. Those that bar our way we will not slay, if possible.”

So we are going to enter by force! I feel something thrum out from my ruby amulet. A thrill runs through my blood, so strong it makes me slightly queasy.

“We will show them their prejudice means nothing. Get some sleep. After tonight, our packs will grow much heavier.”

I'm assigned guard duty for the first watch, and so now I'm stand on the outskirts of the camp, staring across at Hillstone town. Guthah stands beside me, the moonlight glinting off the silver runes on his spear's tip.

“I can see a lot of hills past here,” he says, quietly. “Some quite tall.”

“Well, this is Tallreach.”

“Yes. You said that was this kingdom's name.”

“It's not really a kingdom. Just a collection of cities and towns that band together sometimes, fight sometimes. Nothing so civilized as our kingdoms. According to a book I read on the subject, anyway.”

“I heard some human cities were quite impressive.”

“Some are. To the south is Hyvaen. I had a friend from there. From what he told me, it's near as impressive as Allabrast. Tall spires all around.”

“It's a shame we won't get to visit.”

“Not on this journey, no.”

“Do you think we're making the right decision, barging into their town like Xomhyrk says we're going to do?”

I shrug. “We need supplies. And more to the point we're willing to pay for them. To my mind the humans don't have anything to complain about.”

“What about what they say about our gold bringing bandits? And worse?”

“If they forged better weapons they wouldn't have anything to worry about.”

“Still, they're only human.”

“I suppose. I don't know. Maybe we are about to make a mistake. But we need supplies if we're going to continue. If we're going to kill the dragon.”

Guthah nods firmly. “And dragons attack humans too. Xomhyrk is right about that. For sure.”

“He is.”

A few hours later, when the moon is as high in the sky as it'll get tonight, two of Xomhyrk's Dragonslayers come to take over our duty. We head back to our tent and lie down. I stare up at the dark canvas, watching it ripple. I don't feel sleepy. My ruby amulet is shivering—not physically, but when I place my hand over it, I can sense power. And Gutspiercer is radiating constant bloodlust.

There's no use wasting this night. I get up and take my armor outside, and use a repair hammer and polishing cloth to clean the ice from it. Though neither titanium nor palladium rust, it's still not good practice to let your armor get coated in water, even frozen water.

Dawn comes, illuminating the hills golden red. Cockerels screech loudly, as surface cockerels are wont to do. White cavern ones rarely make a sound.

I equip myself, then order the tenth degrees to do the same. Then our guild forms up along with the rest of the army and we march back down to the main road.

Once we're on the paving, the order comes for us to form up in quadruple file. We're going to take over the whole road. I wield Gutspiercer, and look up past it at the first city wall. My heart leaps as a line of archers appears on it. They'll be easy to take down once I close in.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Shit! What the hell am I thinking? We're not at war. I ought to be hoping the humans will let us in without the need for bloodshed.

“March!” Xomhyrk shouts from the head of the column.

“March!” His Dragonslayers relay the order down.

We move. The paving shudders under our tread. Some of the larger slabs crack apart. They've never felt the force of dwarven metal before. Our army rumbles and the humans on the wall nock their arrows. I lick my lips. Spearmen hurry out from the gate and form a triple line across the road. All are in leather but for one, their commander. He's in steel. His helm is adorned with a plume of red-dyed animal hair which whips in the wind.

Xomhyrk calls a halt a dozen paces before the spearmen. He strides up the path, which is steep so close to the walls, and stands right in front of their commander.

An arrows flies into Xomhyrk's helm. The metal arrowhead shatters and the shaft bounces, spins, and falls onto the path. Xomhyrk doesn't flinch. The humans look at each other in alarm.

Xomhyrk says something to the human commander, who says something back. I'm too distant to hear what they're saying, but I think they're speaking dwarvish. I know that quite a few humans can speak our language, though poorly, for trade purposes, since we rarely bother to learn their many and ever-changing tongues. I think it unlikely that Xomhyrk has learned the language here, since the black dragon is the first to fly over Tallreach in several centuries.

The conversation grows more heated. I think I hear a couple insults, then the human levels his spear. Xomhyrk does also. The human jabs. Xomhyrk spins Icemite, blocking the blow, and in the next instant drives its frozen point through the human's foot. It pierces the steel with total ease.

The human commander shouts in agony. The other spearmen level their weapons, the archers nock their arrows, begin to draw, but then the commander yells something. His men—human armies are nearly all male—lower their spears and bows. Xomhyrk nods curtly, then turns back to us.

“They'll let us in to do business!” he shouts. “Forward!”

“Forward!” relay his Dragonslayers.

We march forward. I breath a sigh, half relief, half disappointment. I shake my head violently. Relief is what I ought to feel! Xomhyrk has led us into the city with minimal blood spilt, just like he said he would.

The path steepens. Before me are the opened gates. I look sidelong at the humans eyeing us with fear and disgust. One meets my gaze, and he stumbles back as if struck. That's the effect, I suppose, of wearing a helmet shaped like a skull. Probably he can feel some of the cold radiating from me as well.

We form up just past the gate in a small plaza. It's formed of the same stone slabs as the road outside, though it's a little better kept. Grass only sprouts up from a few cracks.

It's only just large enough to fit us all and we're crammed tight. At the center of a plaza is a fountain, and several unhappy-looking runeknights have been pushed into it. They stand in knee-deep water while being drenched from above by the spray, which shoots up from a central pipe, spreads out and hangs in the air for a few moments, before falling down just like rain.

The sight, while somewhat comical, also makes me uneasy. I don't think it's runes making that water act the way it does.

Xomhyrk stands on a low wall at the left side of the plaza and repeats his orders for us to pay properly for the supplies we take. Then he has his Dragonslayers distribute gold. I open up the leather wallet I'm handed and count ten golden wheels—though they're not of Allabrast design, a bit smaller, they're still worth many silvers each.

“Don't you think Xomhyrk's being a little too trusting?” I whisper to Jerat. “I have a feeling a lot of this will vanish into pockets.”

Jerat shrugs. “Might do, might not. Mine's going on beer in either case.”

“You're not touching beer today,” Braztak snaps. “I don't trust you with it. Food only.”

Everyone laughs at this, then before I know it the various guilds are scattering out into the narrow wood-walled streets. Braztak holds up a hand:

“Wait, Association of Steel. Wait!”

I stop myself and turn back around.

“We're going to do this in a proper manner,” he says. “No ransacking. No smashing. This isn't a pillage. No beating up humans either. We're going to follow Xomhyrk's word down to the runes and pay generously for everything we need.”

The guild nods solemnly.

“We will be organized as well. We will travel in groups. No rushing off on your own.”

He divides us up. I'm to be with Pellas and Jerat. Braztak tells me to keep him away from anything drinkable, then we're off.

I lead them up the road. It's already crowded with runeknights battering at doors and shouting at humans to give them food and drink—while they brandish their bags of coins for courtesy's sake. I scowl at them—I don't think this behavior is what Xomhyrk had in mind.

“Let's keep going,” I tell Pellas and Jerat. “Find some place not being ransacked.”

“Damn Braztak,” says Jerat. “Holding us back. All the good stuff will be gone.”

“We're not after beer,” I warn him.

“Sure we aren't.”

Right along the road all the way up to the second gate, all the larger buildings are already in the process of being invaded. We go down a side-road, past two dwarves dragging a human in rags out his building, and into the mess of houses away from the road. They're mostly just huts though, topped with some sort of dried grass that can't possibly keep all the rain out, and I don't think we'll find much good in them.

“Let's start,” says Jerat. “Five huts each. We ought to be able to find something.”

Pellas nods and makes to walk to one of the huts.

“Stop!” I order, and grab her by the shoulder. “And stop being an idiot, Jerat. We stay together. And we won't find anything in these hovels. Let's go up through the second gate.”

“Are we allowed there?” asks Pellas.

“We're not allowed anywhere, really,” I say. “But that's where the best goods will be.”

“Won't the humans try to stop us?”

“They might try. They won't succeed.”

I turn and walk back onto the main road, then turn left and move up it. Jerat and Pellas are following close behind. A few dozen paces uphill and we're facing the main gate. It's made of iron so crude I wince just looking at it. The bars are battered and twisted, uneven in color, and rusted quite obviously in more than a few places.

Two human guards confront us. They wield spears only slightly less badly-made than their gate.

“Back,” one of them says, in barely intelligible dwarvish. “Back. Back!”

“No,” I reply. “We will move forward. We are only here to do fair business.”

“Back!” the guard repeats.

“Forward!” I snap at him, and I raise Gutspiercer.

The guard backs away slightly. He looks at his partner, who's staring at my helmet with an expression of fear on his features. His skin has gone as white as ice.

“Open the damn gates!” shouts Jerat. “I want my beer, humans!”

The human who spoke to me nods, and quickly runs to the padlocks around the gate. He fumbles with a large, crude key, then swing the gates open.

“Thank you,” I say as we pass, and hand him one of the gold coins. “We promise to neither break nor steal.”

He stares at the coin in his palm with disgust, like I've just handed him an animal dropping. I shrug and we move on into the upper town.