"Hoist Backwrench, you mean?"
"Yes. I know he was standing in the forefront of the shield wall. I heard he went down in the fight. How does he fare?"
"He'll live," Fortus said, trying unsuccessfully to contain his emotions. "I don't think they'll be able to save his eyes, though."
"I'm sorry." Belicia said no more, but she was touched by the obvious depth of the grizzled dwarf's feeling, and by the heavy toll this day was taking on the brave Hylar all along the waterfront.
" 'Just have yer warriors keep holdin' the line, here'-that was what Hoist told me, when I saw him a little while ago."
"I will. And you save those arrows, all right? I have a feeling we're going to need them pretty soon."
"It's a promise, my lady!" Fortus threw her a rigid salute, a true honorific. "You know, if the Daergar pull back a bit, we can even send a quick sortie down there and bring back some we've already shot."
"Good. Look for a chance, and then go," Belicia agreed, heartened.
She went to a small tower that rose from the rampart over the stairs. From here, she had a wide view of Hybardin's waterfront. Her earlier observation was borne out as the exhausted dark dwarves, who had gained only a small foothold on the steep stairway, finally withdrew entirely to catch their breath on the docks and reorder their decimated companies. From her vantage, the captain could see that many more boats were gathering near the shore, oars stirring the water as they advanced in neat ranks. Apparently, reinforcements were coming from Daerforge-and no doubt from Theibardin as well.
Belicia was about to make another round of her defensive positions when the ground underfoot was rocked by an unnatural tremor. Explosions split the air, thundering and ringing with a dire, ground-shaking force. Spots of unnatural brightness began to glow across the black water. One after another these patches swelled into flaming eruptions like fiery rockets which shot into the air, trailing sparks and leaving hissing trails of steam in their wake.
Battling dwarves on both sides halted their violence, staring in awe, silent and stunned. Beacons blazed through the air overhead, and more forms moved along the docks-shadowy figures that emerged from the water. She had not seen them swimming and dimly realized that the forms were not even dripping.
They slithered along the shore like a silent wave of darkness-touching and surrounding dwarves. And then those dwarves disappeared! The rippling shades moved on, leaving only armor and weapons scattered across the dockside.
"What in Reorx is happening?!" gasped Belicia.
But the wave of darkness only swept closer.
"Hold steady there! Damn you, grab that rope!" Darkend pitched to the side as a sudden surge in the lake's surface rocked his command boat violently. One gunwale dipped below the surface, and a great gush of water poured into the hull.
Crashing onto a bench, the thane of the Daergar struck blindly at the nearest of his oarsmen. That dark dwarf took no notice of the blow as he tried to scramble away from the water sloshing along the keel. Darkend nearly gagged in revulsion as his hands, knees, and feet were all soaked by the chilly stuff.
"Who did that?" he sputtered, climbing to his feet and glaring about. "Who dared to unbalance his thane?"
Immediately he saw that the rocking of the boat was not the result of any careless sailor. In fact, the whole surface of the sea was pitching and surging, lifting the boat and sending Darkend tumbling once more. He heard the terrified shrieking of Daergar all about him. Even as the thane tried to recover his balance, he spat vile curses in all directions.
Grabbing the gunwale with both hands, Darkend pulled himself up, glaring in impotent fury at the scene along the waterfront. There were random explosions and flaming things in the sky. Dark, shadowy creatures were everywhere, feeding on his troops.
His warriors should have been reordering themselves, preparing for a new attack, but instead they seemed to be racing in all directions at once. He barely noticed that the Hylar also seemed to have been thrown into confusion by the strange events. Sputtering in helpless rage, he saw that dwarves of both clans were haplessly trying to defend themselves against the fire and shadow creatures.
A flare of brightness crackled across Darkend's field of view, searing his eyes with furious light. For a time the thane could see nothing of what was happening on shore. He felt the heat of the nearby flames and instinctively threw his arms over his head. At the same moment, a crash of thunder shook the great cavern, the echoes ringing in his ears so loudly that he could hear nothing else.
Blinking and shaking his head, Darkend tried to restore his senses. When he had done so, he saw a great, fiery dragon rising up from the water in a hissing cloud of steam. It tore free from the sea and trailed a cloud of vapor in the air behind it. The thane could see the broad wings and feel the heat of unnatural fire on his face. Against the brightness of the wyrm he vaguely saw a figure, coal black and liquidly supple, crouching between the shoulders of the massive creature. The rider was manlike in shape, apparently naked and unarmed. It raised both arms in an unmistakable gesture of exultant triumph.
A gout of water suddenly burst upward from the stern, pouring into the boat and sucking the metal hull down. Another dark dwarf tumbled against Darkend, jostling him rudely. The thane took the offending fellow by the scruff of the neck and pitched him over the side where his scream was quickly drowned by the cold, churning waters. Still clutching the gunwale of the boat, the ruler of the Daergar glared in mute terror at the chaotic onslaught that was throwing his carefully planned attack into confusion.
All around him dark dwarves shrieked in terror as the heavy craft heeled violently to the side, allowing a spill of black water to rush into the hull. In an instant the boat was filled. Just as quickly it plunged beneath the waves, carrying its crew into the depths of the Urkhan Sea.
Baker and Axel were on Level Twenty-eight inspecting the defenses that had been installed in the event of a further incursion by the Klar. Aside from the Ferrust house, the damage from the first attack already had been repaired. Baker could tell from the eyes of every dwarf he met that memories of the onslaught still lingered fresh and hurtful. As he accompanied the venerable warrior through the streets and gardens of Hybardin's highest places, he passed many clansmen who had lost family members. He found he easily could push his chronic gut-pain into the background when he considered the suffering of so many of his clan.
Bands of guards, each troop comprised of ten or twelve armed Hylar, patrolled the streets and checked vacant buildings. They moved uneasily down the lanes and streets, sending advance scouts into the darkest alleys and showing every indication of utmost vigilance. Baker was heartened to see that very few of these patrols had resorted to the characteristic dwarven garrison tactic of making sure every inn and tavern was well-defended while the rest of the city was left to take care of itself. Perhaps the suddenness and brutality of the Klar attack had provided a sobering lesson for all Hybardin.
"It seems damned solid, doesn't it?" Axel asked, lifting his eyebrows toward the ceiling that arched overhead. "You'd never know by looking that it's honeycombed with tunnels and caves."
Baker nodded, leaning back and seeing the vaulted roof as if for the first time. Stone arches and balustrades, excavated from the very bedrock of the mountain, formed supports where the mass of stone curved over the road. The walls of each house extended all the way to the ceiling, so that within each structure-which was typically a nest of apartments shared by dozens of dwarves-the natural ceiling of the mountain formed the upper boundary of the site.
"Nearly every house has some kind of route through the rock. And now all those secret tunnels are coming back to haunt us in a big way," Axel groused bitterly. "I should have thought of it, by Reorx! What kind of a warrior am I, that my mind has to wither faster than the rest of me?"
"It's not your fault," Baker counseled. "I could have thought of it, too-or anyone else could have, for that matter. What's important now is for us to come up with some kind of p
lan that offers long-term protection."
A shout of alarm from a nearby house interrupted Baker's next question. The clash of metal against metal punctuated loud cries of fear and anger. Instantly, several of the armed patrols that were posted in the street charged toward the structure. More blows echoed from inside. Hurrying along, Baker heard the sounds of clashing swords followed by the unmistakable keening of berserk Klar.
"They're hitting us again!" growled Axel, his broadsword held in both hands and raised for combat. "Let's get those bastards!"
More houses echoed with noise. In moments Level Twenty-eight was embroiled in battle once again. Tangles of Klar and Hylar tumbled from the buildings, taking their skirmishes into the streets. Patrols of armed Hylar quickly stormed in from all directions, responding to the alarm with swift counterattacks. Several formed a steel-edged escort around their thane.
Baker stood in the street, surrounded by guards and feeling terribly useless. A small sword dangled at his side, one of the ornaments from his audience chamber wall that he had decided he could probably carry around without cutting off his leg. Now, for the first time he drew the weapon. It felt awkward and ill-balanced in his hand.
The weapon was suddenly forgotten as his attention was drawn to a nearby wall where the rock surface seemed suddenly to shift and sag. It was moving. There was no other way to describe it. The rock melted before him, turning to thick sludge, then flowed away like cream.
And the strangeness, the darkness, the forms of chaos that emerged from that gap, were more terrifying than any onslaught of Klar.
"What do you mean 'escaped'?"
Garimeth's voice was low, but the rumbling menace in her tone was enough to whiten Karc's already pallid features.
"J-just that, my lady. He's gone! The door was still locked, but somehow your son found a way out."
"How?"
"I don't know," the servant's voice was shrill and filled with panic. "By your order we put him in a room with no windows, and the door was securely bolted and locked. It was never opened, I swear!"
"Did he walk through the walls, then?" demanded the matriarch, her tone loaded with sarcasm.
"They're solid stone, lady! And the floor and ceiling as well!"
"You idiot!" screamed Garimeth. "They can't all be solid or he wouldn't have found a way out! I should have you killed right now for your carelessness!"
Karc cringed. This was not the first time he had heard this threat, but he knew from experience that it was no mere empty phrase.
"Go back and look, you miserable wretch! Search on your hands and knees! Use that pathetic brain that Reorx gave you, or I swear it will cost you your head! And know this: if you fail to find him, your death will not come quickly."
Before Garimeth could continue her threats, the house was rocked by an earthquake of violent and wrenching force. She screamed as she was thrown headlong on to the hard stones of her floor. Looking up, the dwarf-woman gaped in stunned silence as the rock that formed the ceiling of her house began to ooze downward. It dropped with heavy, liquid plops onto the floor, nearly crushing her before she scrambled out of the way.
Karc was not so lucky. He groaned in pain as a gelatinous mass of rock struck him on the shoulder and knocked him face first to the floor. He reached desperately toward Garimeth, his mouth working on a silent plea for help.
But the matriarch was busy scrambling away. Finally she felt a wall at her back and crouched in the corner of the large room, watching in silent horror as the hole in her ceiling expanded. In moments the liquid rock had solidified, leaving a series of drooping tendrils, like smooth stalactites, dangling down into the room. The blobs on the floor had hardened as well, and now as the servant struggled to move he was anchored by a collar of stone that had clasped his upper body in a granite embrace.
When Garimeth saw the creatures that dropped through the irregular opening, her breath caught in her throat and she shrank into the shadows. Realizing that she was pressed against a large trunk, she quickly scooted behind the obstacle. There she crouched in darkness, peering with one cautious eye around the side of her shelter. Despite her ragged breathing, she forced herself to grow calm, sensing that she could give herself away as easily by sound as by sight.
She saw a gaunt, utterly dark shape, crouching over the squirming Karc. The creature reached down to touch the servant with a cold, clawlike hand and immediately Karc's struggles ceased… and more. There was no body, nothing but a pathetic bundle of clothes beneath the shadowy attacker.
And then, as more of the creatures dropped from the hole and started to glide through her house, she was startled by the knowledge that she could not remember who had been in the middle of the floor.
But her thoughts immediately turned to more direct concerns as one of the shadows, oozing like liquid through the air, soundlessly advanced toward Garimeth. There was no substance, no real shape to the bizarre attacker. It seemed to be nothing but utter, consuming darkness. She was stunned as she chanced to look into the deep wells of its lightless eyes and felt a sense of utter, hopeless despair immediately drain the strength from her limbs.
All she could do was stumble backward, falling over the trunk in a nerveless, instinctive retreat. At least that tumble broke the spell of those horrid eyes, and her senses returned. Garimeth trembled in terror and pressed a hand to her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to stifle her fearful moans. Knowing that to look back at the shadow was to die, she scrambled around the barrier, then threw up the lid of the trunk to give her another moment's protection from soundless, lightless death.
And her eyes fell upon the Helm of Tongues.
The bronze artifact lay in the trunk where it had rested since her arrival. In desperation, she snatched it up and set it firmly on her head. She barely noticed the keen, sensory tingle of its magical presence. There was no weapon nearby, nothing she could use to fight, so she fell back another step. Then she was in the corner and saw the murky form of the shadow as it seemed to reach out with tendrils of darkness to enwrap the big trunk in a chilling, lethal cloak.
With nowhere else to look, Garimeth's vision again passed across the front of the thing, but this time she felt no menace in the bottomless eyes. Instead, she sensed that the shadow paused in its approach, hesitant… even confused.
The helm's power focused her thoughts and with those keen senses she reached out, tried to peer inside the mind of the shadow. She recoiled instantly, horrified by the mangled morass of its chaotic being. But at the same time she saw that the formless beast had moved back. Now it writhed in torment, and with sudden perception she saw that it feared her.
"Go away!" she declared, her tone surprising even herself with its firm quality. "Leave me!"
To her utter astonishment, the shadowy attacker slithered backward, then turned and wisped silently out the door.
Chapter Fourteen
Gullywasher
"Golly. That some hot water." Regal admired the blazing vista of the Urkhan Sea, which continued to toss and churn and spume. Periodically another cometlike gout of soaring flame shot forth from the black water. The Aghar shook his head in awe, though he sounded more impressed than frightened.
Tarn couldn't speak, could only stare, struck dumb by a much deeper sense of wrongness. He felt as though he was watching what must certainly be the end of Thorbardin. The feeling of impending doom had gripped him at the very first onslaught when tremors had shaken the ground and magical fire had burst into view from countless sources. Rockslides had rumbled down the slopes for several minutes. Although that initial violence had subsided somewhat, the lingering effects were everywhere, a frightening and bizarre assault against nature and reality.
Tarn had a vague notion about taking cover, but in his heart he knew there could be no shelter from this apocalyptic storm.
Great meteors of fire, finally recognizable as dragons of flame, roared through the sky over the lake. From over the miles of water the sounds of terror and pain and death shrieked of
distant woe. Closer, the waters of the underground sea pitched and rose, surging onto the shore to spatter between the long fingers of Daerforge's solid stone docks. Dark dwarves teemed there in great numbers, some aboard boats, others scrambling to get to higher ground. Many of the watercraft were hurled ashore like matchsticks. The clutching tendrils of churning waves sucked hundreds of Daergar off the docks and into the bay, and then the tide rose to hammer once more against the unyielding terrain of the wharf.
Tarn watched in horror as other waves surged into the lower reaches of Agharhome, roaring through the tight streets and bowling helpless gully dwarves along, many of whom were carried back to certain death in the deep and churning maelstrom of the Urkhan Sea. More water spilled into the hollows, no doubt inundating countless Aghar who had sought the illusory shelter of the underground burrows.
"Wow!" Duck Bigdwarf gaped as a sinkhole formed in the ground near them, rocks and ravines turning to sand and spilling into a widening pit.
"Quick! Get back!" Tarn urged as the street fell away before them. Scrambling desperately, he and the small group of Aghar pulled themselves to higher ground.
One of the fiery projectiles soared closer, veering to pass directly overhead. Tarn saw widespread wings, outlined in living flame and unmistakably draconic in nature. He watched in disbelief as the mighty creature swept close to the cliff wall above the dwarven city. Surely the wyrm would have to turn or dive before impact! Instead the terrifying dragon flew with unwavering speed, striking the smooth, dark rock and sweeping onward as if the barrier was no more than a film of gauze. The creature vanished into the solid stone, and in the monster's wake Tarn saw a gaping hole leading into the cliff face, a tunnel that glowed like a furnace.
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