But it was different now. This time the intruders were a massive force, and the Theiwar did not have the field to themselves. The Daewar had come, arrogant as always, bypassing the Theiwar encampment without so much as a by-your-leave for trespassing on Theiwar grounds, and now were encamped right out on the promontory—a shoulder of the mountain, in the middle of the pass—as though to take charge of all defenses. A few miles beyond the Daewar camp, Slide knew, were hordes of grim, squinting Daergar, hiding their faces from the bright sunlight that hurt their dark-seeker eyes. They had come from their dimly lit tunnels and their precious mines to join in the defense of Kal-Thax. Here and there also were bands of the wild, erratic Klar, brandishing their bludgeons and waiting for the chance to bash a few human skulls.
In all, it was a grim and deadly array of dwarven fighters, none of the groups on very good terms with any of the others, but all determined that outsiders would not enter the mountain realm.
Slide wondered, though silently, what kind of fighting force they all might be if they could for once get together and act in unison. It was a foolish notion. Never in all the centuries since the Theiwar—and then the Daewar and Daergar and, to some extent, even the Klar—had become organized thanes, never had they acted in unison on any issue except the pact to keep aliens out.
In the distance to the east, the smoke of the human camps was trailing away on the breeze, and Slide, peering through his mesh faceplate, saw the beginnings of movement there. It was what he had expected. Someone in the foothills had taken charge, and now the humans—some of them at least—were on the move, heading up the pass.
He squinted, and Brule Vaportongue edged up beside him, his face hidden by the Daergar mask he wore. Brule was half Daergar and shunned the daylight.
“What do you see?” Brule asked. “Are they coming?”
“They’re coming.” Slide nodded. “By evening, the Daewar out there will be up to their eyeballs in humans.”
“The gold-molders have placed themselves to take the first assault,” Brule rasped. “So let them take it. We can attack from the flank, after they’ve slowed them down.”
To one side, Glome the Assassin turned and spat, “Shut up over there. We have better things to think about than fighting humans.” He turned back to Twist Cutshank, and all the rest turned to listen.
“The time is here to deal with the Daewar,” Glome told the chieftain. “My spies have been on the slopes of Sky’s End, as I told you. The citadel there is poorly guarded. The gold-molders are spending all their time delving into the mountain behind their fortifications. The spies believe they are expanding their city, deeper into the mountain.”
“They can still fight,” Twist Cutshank rumbled. “Don’t forget the beating we took last time we tried an attack, Glome.”
“That?” Glome growled. “That was no attack. That was a fiasco. Your old chieftain, Crouch Redfire, was an idiot, trying to raid Daebardin when Olim Goldbuckle and all his troops were there.”
“So what makes it different now?” Twist glared. “A Daewar patrol on the defense line?”
Glome pointed southward, toward the Daewar camp. “Patrol? That is no mere patrol out there. I got close and looked around. That is Goldbuckle himself, with Gem Bluesleeve and most of his army. That isn’t a hundred or so Daewar out there. That is a thousand or more—right out in the open, on Theiwar territory.”
“So what are you suggesting?” Twist stared at Glome. “That we withdraw and go loot Daebardin while their prince is away?”
“More than that,” Glome said. “First let them get bloodied by the humans. Let the Daewar take the brunt of today’s assault—and tomorrow’s, if there is one. Then, when Goldbuckle is weak, we can easily finish him off. After that, nothing stands between us and the treasures of Daebardin.”
“Treasures none of us have ever seen,” Twist pointed out. “We’re not even sure they have treasures.”
“Of course they have treasures!” Glome snapped. “Look at them! Every Daewar you ever saw wears a fortune in armor alone. And if they didn’t have treasure, why would they have been delving all these years over on Sky’s End? The rubble heaps below their citadel are enormous! They must be building an entire city under that mountain. Why would they do that, except to fortify, to protect vast treasures?”
“I’d like to see that undermountain city,” Twist Cutshank admitted. “Treasures, huh? Maybe so.”
“That place must be huge by now,” Glome nodded. “A fortress for a king, possibly?”
“King? There are no kings in Kal-Thax!”
“But maybe Olim Goldbuckle wants to be one,” Glome purred. “Have you thought about that? About the possibility of bowing before a bloody Daewar? Maybe that is why the gold-molders dig. Maybe when they have their fortress completed they intend to conquer all the thanes. Would you enjoy having that rusty gold-molder’s foot on your neck, Twist Cutshank?” Glome turned, looking at the others. There were dozens of Theiwar on the ledge now. “Would any Theiwar willingly bow to a Daewar king?” he asked. “I say Olim Goldbuckle intends to be king of Kal-Thax, and if we want to stop him, we must strike first!”
It was a powerful argument, and none could deny it. Slide Tolec’s brows lowered, though, as another thought crossed his mind. Maybe someone in Kal-Thax did want to become king. But was it the prince of the Daewar? Or was it, just possibly, someone else?
Twist Cutshank was gazing at Glome. “Are you suggesting we betray a defense, Glome?” he asked. “That would be breaking the pact.”
“We won’t let humans in,” Glome explained. “We’ll just let the Daewar do all the fighting.”
“And if the humans get past them?”
“Then we will turn them back. But either way, this may be our chance to be rid of Olim Goldbuckle.”
“What of the Daergar?”
“What of them?” Glome snorted. “Vog Ironface knows the Daewar threat as well as we do. The Daergar will join us when they see what we are doing.”
Slide Tolec had his doubts about that. The treaty of the thanes was a sacred thing, and the Daergar supported it loyally. It was in their best interests. Should outsiders settle within the mountains of Kal-Thax, the first prizes they would seek would be the Daergar mines.
Still, there was a bond of sorts between the Theiwar and the Daergar. Many times in the past, they had fought each other. But the rise of the powerful, populous Daewar to the north, in their stronghold on Sky’s End, had brought a tenuous peace between Theiwar and Daergar. Each recognized a more dangerous enemy, and hostility between the cliff-cave people and the dark-dwellers was set aside for an uneasy alliance, and for trade. The Theiwar mined the steel-hardening black stone of Cloudseeker’s lower slopes, and in return acquired the swift, dark-metal Daergar weapons, which most of them preferred over anything the Theiwar crafters could forge.
Twist Cutshank squinted out across the bright, high lands, toward the climbing foothills to the east. The smoke had diminished in the distance, but now everyone could see the movement of massed humans pouring over the far crests. Even at such a distance, sunlight glinted on the steel and bronze of weapons. After a time, the Theiwar chieftain hissed, “There are horsemen leading them!”
Slide Tolec’s eyes watered as he tried to make out details in the distance. There were horsemen there—hundreds of them, it seemed, and they were of a type he had seen before. “Cobar!” he said. “The raiders from the northern plains.”
“Very well,” Twist Cutshank decided. “It shall be as Glome says. Instead of flanking the Daewar positions, we hold back. Let the gold-molders take the full brunt of the attack. Maybe the humans will deal with the Daewar for us … but if any get through, then we and the Daergar must turn them back.”
13
The Defenders
Olim Goldbuckle knew very well the threat that Kal-Thax faced in this season of massive migrations. For a month, his Daewar scouts had surveyed the border slopes as more and more humans—and not a few ogres and go
blins—arrived there, some fleeing the dragon war in the east, others taking advantage of the chaos to seek new lands or treasures.
The Daewar prince had huddled with his advisors as the reports came in, assessing what was happening in the human realms beyond Kal-Thax and what it meant for the dwarves. It seemed that displaced people by the thousands or tens of thousands were spilling across the wide, unguardable eastern borders of the human realm of Ergoth and migrating westward toward the sparsely settled southern hills which bordered on the mountain barrier of Kal-Thax. Many of them, the dwarves assumed, would be caught by the patrols of the overlords of the human city of Xak Tsaroth and sold into slavery—either there, or transported to the distant barbarian lands of Istar by trade caravans.
But others—especially the wily Cobar, Sandrunners, and Sackmen of the northern plains—would know about Xak Tsaroth and avoid it, swinging southward through the hills. The Daewar spies confirmed this. By far the most dangerous of the human masses streaming across Ergoth—harried and herded by the knights and by companies of armed citizens—were those closing in on the funnel pass east of Cloudseeker Peak.
Traditionally that was Theiwar territory, and the Theiwar had dealt with outsiders penetrating the borders there. At times they were aided by the Daergar, protecting their mining areas. But now, Olim Goldbuckle knew, the force of the human numbers was far more than the primitive Theiwar—or even the dour, crafty Daergar—could counter.
“The humans must be stopped before they reach Cloudseeker,” the prince of the Daewar told his captain, Gem Bluesleeve. “We are bound by the pact of Kal-Thax to assist our neighbors in the defense of the realm.”
“Especially of Cloudseeker.” Gem nodded, his eyes twinkling.
“Most especially of Cloudseeker,” Olim agreed. “You might say we have a deep interest there.” He chuckled. “Those Theiwar! They claim their mountain and cling to their cliffs, never wondering what might lie beneath their feet. What a waste, if such marvels were to go unused. How goes the delving?”
“Slate Coldsheet estimates another month before we break through into the caverns Urkhan found,” Gem told him. “But you know how the delvemaster is. Always conservative. If he says a month, we might be there in a week.”
“So near,” Olim breathed. “Years of tunneling, Gem. It would be tragic to come so close and then lose everything because the Theiwar failed to hold back a bunch of humans. The Theiwar aren’t inclined to explore, Gem, but humans are. They must be stopped. Get the army ready to move, all except the home guard. We are going to the front passes to help our neighbors keep intruders away.”
“That’s Theiwar territory,” Gem reminded his prince. “They might not appreciate the Daewar army showing up there.”
“We shall try not to be too noticeable,” Olim said. “Possibly we can make many seem like few. But either way, I don’t intend to ask Twist Cutshank’s permission to evoke the Pact of Kal-Thax. It is our right … and our duty.”
So, now, on a bright autumn day, most of the Daewar army was spread along the center rise of the high promontory above the funnel pass, as thousands of human marauders swarmed up the slopes toward them. The promontory was a vast, high meadow flanked by jutting cliffs and broken steeps that narrowed, closing in as the elevation rose toward the level crest that was a jutting shoulder of great Cloudseeker, which stood in the distance behind like a gigantic, three-horned head draped in a sloping cowl.
From the moment the humans—still tiny with distance—began their drive up the pass, it had been apparent that they were led by swarms of riders, roughly clad, fierce-looking men who pummeled their dark horses as they toiled up the grade toward the promontory. There were hundreds of them, and beyond and around them came footmen—a motley assemblage of men from many lands, all with one thing in mind. Their reasons may have been many and varied, but they came on grimly, all determined to break the blockade of Kal-Thax and enter the mountains beyond the midlands.
Gem Bluesleeve watched curiously as the throng came nearer, shading his eyes with the upturned visor of his gold-embossed helmet. It was not the first time he had seen humans making for Kal-Thax. Many times, over the years, Daewar patrols had watched as Theiwar ambushers waylaid travelers coming from the eastern lands. At times, when the groups of trespassers were large, Daewar had even joined in the defense to throw them back. And there had been times when Daewar had even intervened before an ambush, when it was obvious that the interlopers were only poor travelers, lost or outcast, whose only real crime was being in the wrong place.
Some among the Theiwar had fumed and threatened each time a Daewar unit interfered, and there were hard feelings between the thanes because of it. But the Daewar had paid little attention. To the Theiwar, slaughter and looting of trespassers might be a thriving business. But to most Daewar, murder was senseless and embarrassing if there was nothing to be gained by it and if the intruders could be turned away with words.
The mass of humanity coming up the pass now, though, was nothing like the little groups and bands of travelers of past years. This was a massive raid, with the look of a full-scale assault led by mounted looters. Gem stepped to his prince’s side to point out the spreading, tactical maneuvering of the climbing humans.
“These are not here by accident,” he said. “Those horsemen, in the lead, are men of the Cobar plains. The Cobar do not just wander about, as do some tribes. The Cobar are raiders and looters.”
“Mounted intruders,” Olim Goldbuckle mused. “Has there ever been a mounted attack before?”
“Not that I’ve heard of,” Gem admitted. “Many humans have horses, but these mountains are not horse country. Not even the knights of Ergoth would try to enter here on horseback.”
“And yet the Cobar do,” Olim noted. “What do you make of that?”
“They know we’re here.” Gem shrugged. “Those other people with them may intend to invade Kal-Thax and carve out human kingdoms. But the Cobar do not intend to settle here. They come only to raid, to pillage, and then to return to their plains.”
“It will be difficult, fighting horsemen on this level ground,” Olim said.
“Then let’s not meet them here,” Gem suggested. “Let’s go out and meet them on the slopes. If I’m to face horsemen, I’d prefer to have the uphill advantage.”
Olim gazed around, studying the terrain. “The pass is wider over there,” he pointed out. “We will be spread thin. But then, we are not alone.” He gazed northward, at the craggy cliffs which were the Theiwar border camps. “Flash signals to Twist Cutshank of the Theiwar,” he said, “and to Vog Ironface of the Daergar. Signal my greetings and say that we will hold the middle pass. Ask that they position themselves on our forward flanks, the Theiwar to the north and the Daergar to the south. Among us, we should be able to persuade the humans that they are not wanted in Kal-Thax.”
The signals were flashed. Daewar “callers” were positioned on pinnacles of stone using mirrors of polished brass to catch and relay the sunlight in common code. A response and agreement came from the south, from the Daergar placements under the steeps there, but there was no answer from the Theiwar. When his callers reported this to Gem Bluesleeve, he passed it on to Olim Goldbuckle. “There is no question the signal was seen, Sire,” he assured the prince. “With a high sun, and the air clear, the flashes are unmistakable.”
“Twist Cutshank is sulking,” Goldbuckle decided. “He is probably miffed that we came onto his territory without his invitation.”
“But can we count on them to do their part?” Gem asked, worried.
“We’ll have to,” the prince said. “He has seen what is coming, and, savage or not, he knows what it will take to hold this pass. To fail would be to break the Pact of Kal-Thax, and even Twist Cutshank wouldn’t do that.”
With the sun high overhead, the Daewar army broke camp and moved out, cresting the promontory in plain view of the oncoming, quickly spreading human force. In their glistening armor and bright cloaks, the Daewar were
an impressive display of presence atop the long rise, and there was visible hesitation among the bands of footmen climbing among the mounted Cobar horsemen. But not for long. The Cobar rode among them, swinging whips and the flats of blades, and the advance resumed.
By the time the sun was above Sky’s End to the north, the human force was less than half a mile away and could be seen clearly. Most of the humans were on foot—a motley assortment of men from many tribes and homelands, clothed in whatever garb they had brought or had found in their wanderings. The weapons they carried ranged from staffs and cudgels to every kind of blade, and their shields and armor were as varied as their clothing. Some had metal shields and bits of metal armor. Far more wore heavy, studded leathers and even whole furs of various animals. There were shields of braced hardwood, shields woven of reeds, and shields of tanned hide stretched over wooden frames. To the finely equipped Daewar, they wouldn’t have seemed especially dangerous—except that there were thousands of them.
The riders were a different story. As Gem had said, the Cobar were a fierce people, and their raiders knew how to fight. They handled their horses expertly, and the weapons they carried—slim lances, curved swords, and dagger-studded fighting shields—looked deadly.
At Gem’s orders, the Daewar spread into a long, double line along the crest of the promontory. It was a well-tested Daewar strategy for defense. Spreading from center, the dwarves took positions every ten yards, two defenders at each station, one kneeling behind his shield with sling and hammer at hand, the second a step forward and to one side, shield high and sword in hand. At ten-yard intervals, with sling-stones to cover the gaps, the defense was virtually a wall. And, faced with horses, Gem had added an extra touch. Each station was equipped with cable and a throw-net.
The Covenant of the Forge Page 12
