The Dwarves

"A fat lot of use you are," Boпndil growled. "I say we throw him back down again. We've lost half the ingots, so we may as well get rid of the pesky artisan as well."

"So what if we've lost a few ingots?" said Tungdil, determined to raise their spirits. "We're on our way to a dwarven kingdom, remember! We're bound to find enough gold and tionium to make a solitary ax."

"Problem solved." Andфkai nodded, giving her leather armor a final tug.

"Excellent. If we've all recovered sufficiently, we may as well get going. Divide yourselves up between the wagons," ordered Tungdil, who was begi

"Don't worry about that," said the maga. She motioned to Djerun. "Leave it to him." Beroпn's Folk, Secondling Kingdom, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle This time Nфd'o

Dwarven missiles sped toward the approaching siege engines, passing through the moist cladding of human skin, punching holes in the timber and shattering the joists. The sheer scale of the invasion ensured that some of the engines approached unscathed.

At length three wooden towers drew alongside the parapets. As the ramps clapped down, hordes of screeching orcs spewed forth, but the ferocious dwarves stood firm.

Balendilнn proved himself an able commander, defending the stronghold so successfully that not a single assailant made it through the dwarven lines.

"Pour oil on the wood," he shouted as soon as the first wave of invaders had been repelled. Already the next wave of beasts was streaming into the towers.

The plan worked. In no time the siege engines disappeared in a blaze of yellow flames. The wood burned like cinder, the flammable sap fueled the fire, the ropes ignited, and the towers collapsed, raining debris to the ground. The enemy retreated, yelping with fear.

Victory came at a price. Fourteen dwarves were slain by an дlf who concealed himself on the ramp of the third tower and bombarded them with arrows, showing no regard for the hungry flames. At last his cloak caught alight, but the onslaught continued, ending only when his bowstring was consumed in the blaze.

In spite of the casualties, the mood was upbeat. There was no reason to believe that Ogre's Death would fall.

"You fought bravely and well," Balendilнn praised his troops. "Our fallen brothers will live on in our memories and their names shall be etched in gold in the kingdom's great hall." His eyes roamed over the rows of defenders. Their bearded faces gazed back at him, sweaty but smiling; there was plenty of fight in them yet. "Vraccas gave us-"

"Orcs!" The shout came from a sentry who had turned his back to the gates and was listening to the king. "They've got into the stronghold!"

There were hundreds of them. The snarling, roiling brutes were demolishing anything and anyone in their path. In no time they had seized the i

The tu

The dwarves jolted into action, storming up the mountainside to fight their ancient foe. Among them was their one-armed king whose courage and tenacity were an inspiration to them all.

At that moment an ogre emerged from the underground hall, lips pressed to an enormous bugle. His piercing call drew cheers and roars from the troops outside the stronghold. The second assault on the ramparts began.

V

Beroпn's Folk, Secondling Kingdom, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle They shouldn't have got this far. Why weren't they stopped by the guards? Balendilнn had no time to consider what had happened to the warriors who were guarding the entrance to the tu

At last Balendilнn's guards managed to turn the tide of the surprise attack and drive the invaders back to the tu

How many more? Balendilнn's heart sank as he surveyed the waiting beasts. They were trapped in the hall, but by no means defeated, and their numbers were swelling as the tu

A messenger pushed his way through the dwarven ranks, bringing more bad tidings for Balendilнn. "The beasts have outmaneuvered us," he gasped. "They've attacked from the rear. The gates of Ogre's Death are open and the first two ramparts have been taken."

By now Balendilнn was begi

"We can't. They've destroyed the vats."

Destroyed? A moment ago, he had been confident that the enemy would be defeated; now his faith seemed misplaced. To destroy the vats they'd have to know where to find them, in which case… "Give the order to retreat. We'll defend the stronghold from within. Close the gates and abandon the ramparts." He clapped him on the shoulder. "Hurry!"

The messenger nodded and sped away.

Balendilнn was certain that the secondlings' predicament had nothing to do with bad luck. Not only had they been attacked through tu

Someone with intimate knowledge of Ogre's Death had helped them to plan the invasion. What kind of dwarf would do such a thing? Balendilнn could think of no one who would stoop so low as to ally themselves with orcs. Nфd'o

"I need two hundred warriors. The rest of you stay here and hold back the orcs," he commanded, turning and marching away.

He was on course for the High Pass, where he intended to destroy the bridge before the orcs got hold of it and allowed fresh hordes to flood into the stronghold from the Outer Lands. His fury and hatred of Nфd'o

Underground Network, Kingdom of Weyurn, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle Surely he must be tired by now," said Rodario, puzzled. "I'd be exhausted if I had to push both wagons."

"Unlike some people, Djerun is no stranger to hard work," the maga said sternly.

The impresario gave her an injured look and stuck out his chin. "Perhaps the Estimable Maga could tell me what I've done to be treated with such contempt?"

She turned her back on him. "Climb in, Djerun; there's another downward pitch."

The armored giant squeezed into the rear wagon, trying to make himself as small as possible so as not to injure the others or crack his head on any low archways.

"Very well," said Rodario, refusing to give in. "You can ignore me if you like, but prepare for the consequences. I happen to be writing a drama in which you play a leading role. You'll have only yourself to blame if you make a bad impression."

The maga's eyes bored into his. "Perhaps Djerun should attend the first performance. You'll know from his reaction whether I like your play. If he raises his ax, you should run." The impresario held her gaze, but she refused to back down. "It isn't because of anything you've done, Rodario. Quite frankly, I don't like your ma