"Oo," moaned Pikel Bouldershoulder, a round-shouldered dwarf with a green-dyed beard braided halfway down his back and open-toed sandals on his gnarly feet, as he watched the distant spectacle of Tintagel's spell. The longing gaze was plain to see, and Pikel almost toppled out of the tree in which he sat.
"No, ye don't!" his brother whispered harshly from across the way, disdaining Pikel's druidic tendencies. Ivan tucked his yellow beard into his wide belt and shifted his dwarven-hard buttocks about on the tree branch and his deer-antlered helmet about on his head, trying to find a comfortable position in this very undwarveniike perch. In one hand he held a club made from the thick trunk of a dead tree. A heavy rope had been tied about his waist and looped up over a branch halfway across the trail.
Ivan had accepted the high seat, knowing what fun it would bring, but he drew the line at being turned into a tree - above his would-be druid brother's whining protests. Ivan had offered a compromise, enquiring of Tintagel about a variation of his mighty spell, but the elf wizard had declined, explaining that he had no power to turn people into rocks.
Across the path, in a perch opposite Ivan, Pikel seemed much more comfortable, both with his tree seat and tree-trunk club. He, too, sported a rope about his waist, the other end of Ivan's. Pikel's comfort with the perch could not defeat his frown, though, a frown brought on by his longing to be with the elves, to be a tree in Shilmista's soil.
Guttural goblin grumbling down the path alerted the dwarves of the enemy's approach.
"Sneaksters," Ivan whispered with a wide smile, trying to brighten his brother's surly mood. Ivan didn't want Pikel pouting at this critical moment.
Both dwarves tightened their grip on their dubs.
Soon the enemy band passed directly under them, spindle-armed and ugly goblins mixed in with pig-faced ores and larger orogs. Ivan had to force himself not to spit on the wretched throng, had to remind himself that more fun would be had if he and his brother could hold their positions just a short while longer.
Then, as the dryad Hammadeen had told them it would, a giant came into view, plodding slowly down the path, seemingly oblivious to its surroundings. By the dryad's words this was the last giant remaining in Shilmista, and Ivan wasn't about to let the evil thing go crawling back to its mountain home.
"Sneaksters," Ivan whispered again, the title he had chosen for him and his brother, a title he knew that the giant, above all others, would appreciate in just another moment.
The huge head bobbed steadily closer. One goblin stopped suddenly and sniffed the air.
Too late.
Ivan and Pikel leveled their clubs and, with a nod to each other, hopped off their high perches, swinging down at the path. Their timing proved perfect and the oblivious giant stepped between them, its gaze straight ahead, its head bobbing at just the right height.
Pikel connected just a split-second before Ivan, the heavy dwarves sandwiching the monster's head in a tremendous slam. Ivan immediately dropped his bloodied club and tore out his favored double-bladed axe instead.
On the path below, the smaller monsters went into a frenzy, pushing and shoving, diving to the dirt, and running in all directions. They had lost many companions in the last few weeks, and they knew what was to come.
The wizard, Tintagel, cried out the dispelling syllable; Danica and forty elves behind her reverted to their original forms, drew back their bowstrings, and charged with gleaming swords waving high.
The dazed giant wobbled, but stubbornly, stupidly, held its balance, and Ivan and Pikel, dangling nearly twenty feet above the forest path, went to work.
Ivan's axe took off an ear; Pikel's club splattered the monster's nose all over its cheek. Again and again they smacked at the beast. They knew they were vulnerable up there, knew that if the giant managed to get even a single hit in, it would probably knock one of them halfway back to the Edificant Library. But the brothers didn't think of that grim fact at the time; they were having too much fun.
Below the hanging dwarves came the sound of elven bows loosing hail after hail of arrows deep into goblin, ore, and orog flesh.
Creatures died by the score; others cried in agony and terror, and the merciless elves came on, swords in hand, hacking at the squirming forms of these vile invaders, the monsters that had so tainted the precious elven home.
Danica spotted one group of monsters slipping away through the trees to the side. She called to Tintagel and sped off in pursuit, taking up her crystal-bladed daggers, one with a golden pommel carved into the likeness of a tiger, the other, with a hilt of silver, carved into a dragon.
Pikel's club knocked the giant's head backward so brutally that the dwarves heard the sharp crack of the huge monster's neck bone. The giant somehow held its balance for just a moment longer, looking dazed and confused, and then quite dead. It rolled up on the balls of its huge feet and toppled forward like a chopped tree.
Ivan quickly surveyed the path ahead of the falling beast.
"Two!" the dwarf yelled, and the giant's body buried two unfortunate goblins as it landed.
"Ye owe me a gold piece!" Ivan roared, and Pikel nodded happily, more than willing to pay the bet.
"Ye ready for more?" Ivan cried.
"Oo oi!" Pikel replied with enthusiasm. Without a word of warning to his brother, Pikel grabbed a nearby branch and quickly pulled the loop around his waist, freeing his end of the rope.
Ivan did manage to open his eyes wide, but the inevitable curses aimed at his brother would have to wait as he took a more direct descent to the ground. To Pikel's credit, the plummeting Ivan did clobber a goblin beneath him.
The yellow-bearded dwarf hopped back to his feet, spitting dirt and curses. He casually dropped his heavy axe onto the back of the wounded goblin's head, ending its complaints, and looked back up to his brother, who was making a more conventional way down the tree.
Pikel shrugged and smiled meekly. "Oops," he offered, and Ivan silently mouthed the word at the same instant Pikel spoke it, fully expecting the all-too-common apology.
"When ye get down here . . ." Ivan began to threaten, but goblins suddenly closed in around the vulnerable dwarf. Ivan howled happily and forgot any anger harbored against Pikel. After all, how could he possibly stay mad at someone who had dropped him right in the middle of so much fun?
The fleeing band's lead goblin scrambled through the thick underbrush, desperate to leave the slaughter behind. The monster hooked one ankle on one of many crisscrossing roots in this overgrown region, and stubbornly pulled itself free. Then it got hooked again, and this time the grasp was not so easily broken.
The goblin squealed and pulled, then looked back to see, not a root, but a woman, smiling wickedly and holding fast to its ankle.
Danica twisted her arm in a sudden jerk and charged up and ahead from her low concealment, tripping the unfortunate creature. She was atop the thing in an instant, her free hand pushing away the frantic beast's futile slaps while her other hand, holding the golden-hilted dagger, came slashing in for a single, vicious strike.
Danica rarely needed more than one.
The young woman pulled herself up from the slain creature, openly facing its surprised comrades, who weaved in and out of the trees behind and to the sides. The band eyed her curiously and looked all about, not really knowing what to make of the woman. Where had she come from, and why was she alone ? Not another leaf or bush in this area moved, though the fighting continued back on the trail.
With that thought in mind, an orog cried for a charge, eager to claim at least one victim amidst the disaster. The monstrous band came crashing in at Danica from three sides, through the bushes and brambles, gaining confidence and resolve with every step.
Elbereth dropped from a tree limb above Danica, his gleaming sword and shining armor revealing his prominent stature among the elven clan. Some of the monsters halted altogether, and the others slowed, looking back and forth curiously from the elf and woman to their less brave comrades.
A short distance to the side, Shayleigh appeared from behind a tree and set her bow immediately to work, dropping the creature closest to her companions.
The orogs cried out to run away, a command goblins were always ready to follow. Elbereth and Danica moved first, though, catching the nearest goblins in a furious rush, while Shayleigh concentrated her fire on the orogs.
Those monsters not engaged ran wildly, picking their escape routes through the thick trees and brush.
A wall of mist rolled up before them. Terrified goblins skidded to a stop. The orogs, right behind, prodded them, knowing that to halt was to die.
An arrow thudded into the back of an orog; another bolt followed its flight just a split second later, and the remaining two orogs shoved the lead goblin into the fog.
Watching from the boughs above, Tintagel quickly launched another spell, throwing his voice through a rolled-up cone of parchment into the area of the vapors. His fog wall was a harmless thing, but the cries of agony that suddenly emanated from within made the hesitant creatures think otherwise.
Three arrows took down the second orog. The remaining brute scrambled about, seeking cover behind its goblin fodder. It came out the side of the group, thinking to circle around the fog wall ... but it found Elbereth, and Elbereth's sword, instead.
"It's about time ye got here!" Ivan growled when Pikel finally made his way down the towering tree to come to his side. Many yards from the host of elves, and with many monsters between him and them, Ivan had been sorely pressed. Still, the tough dwarf had managed to escape any serious injury, for the bulk of the monsters were more interested in escaping than in fighting.
And it had quickly become obvious to the goblins that any who ventured near Ivan's furious axe swipes would not long survive.
Now, back-to-back, the dwarven brothers elevated the battle to new heights of slaughter. They overwhelmed the nearby monsters in mere minutes, then shuffled up the path to overwhelm another group.
The elves cut in just as fiercely, swordsmen driving the monstrous throng every which way, and archers, just a short distance behind, making short work of those creatures that broke out of the pack. The goblinoids had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Already, more monsters lay dead than those standing to continue the fight, and that ratio came to favor the elves more and more with every passing second.
Tintagel watched as the first goblin that had been pushed into the wall emerged from the other side unharmed. The elf wizard resisted the urge to blast the thing down, for his role in this fight was to contain the monsters so that Elbereth, Shayleigh, and Danica could finish them. He pulled more dried peas from his pouch and tossed them to the ground, perpendicular to the mist wall. Uttering the proper chant, the wizard summoned a second fog wall to box in the monsters.
Danica followed Shayleigh's next three arrows into the confused horde. She whipped her daggers into the nearest targets, killing one goblin and dropping a second in screaming pain, and came in with a fury that her enemies could not match.
Nor could the remaining orog match Elbereth's skill. The creature parried the elfs initial, testing swing, then brought its heavy club across wickedly. Elbereth easily sidestepped the blow and waded in behind, jabbing his fine sword repeatedly into the slower beast's chest.
The creature blinked many times as though it were trying to focus through eyes that were no longer seeing clearly. Elbereth couldn't wait for it to decide its next move. He whipped his shield arm about, slamming the shield - which had belonged to his father not so long ago - against the orog's head. The monster dropped heavily, star-shaped welts from the embossed symbols of Shilmista crossing the side of its piggish face.
Shayleigh, now with a sword in hand, came up beside the elven king and together they waded confidently into the goblins.
With no options readily before them, the trapped goblins began to fight back. Three surrounded Danica, hacking wfldty with their short swords. They couldn't keep up with her darting movements, dips and dodges, though, and weren't really coming very close to connecting.
Danica bided her time. One frustrated creature whipped its sword across in a harmlessly wide arc. Before the goblin could recover from its overbalanced swing, Danica's foot snapped straight up, connected under its chin, and drove its jaw up under its nose. The goblin promptly disappeared under the brush.
A second beast rushed at the distracted woman's back.
Bolts of magical energy flashed down from the tree above, burning into its head and neck. The goblin howled and grabbed at the wound, and Danica, fully balanced at all times, spun a half-circle, one foot flying wide, and circle-kicked it across the face. Its head looking far back over one shoulder, the goblin joined its dead companion on the ground.
Danica managed to nod her thanks to Tintagel as she waded into the lone goblin racing her, her hands and feet flying in from all sides, finding opening after opening in the pitiful creature's defenses. One kick knocked its sword away and, before it could cry out a surrender, Danica's stiffened fingers rifled into its throat, tearing out its windpipe.
Suddenly, it was over, with no more monsters to hit. The four companions, three of them covered in the blood of their enemies, stood solemn and grim, surveying their necessary handiwork.
"Ye know, elf," Ivan said when Elbereth and the others came back to the group on the trail, "this is getting too easy." The dwarf spat in both hands and grasped his axe handle, the blade of his weapon buried deeply into an orog's thick head. With a sickening crack, Ivan pulled the mighty weapon free.
"First fight in a week," Ivan continued, "and this group seemed more keen on running than fighting!"
Elbereth couldn't deny the dwarfs observations, but he was far from upset at what the goblins' retreat indicated.
"If we are fortunate, it will be another week before we find the need to fight again," he replied.
Ivan balked, and drove his gore-stained blade into the earth to clean it. As Elbereth moved away, the dwarf muttered to his brother, "Spoken like a true elf."
Heartfelt
ou sit here and wait while all of our dreams - all of the dreams Talona herself gave you - fall to pieces!" Dorigen Kel Lamond, second most powerful wizard in all of Castle Trinity, sat back in her chair, somewhat sin-prised by her uncharacteristic outburst. Her amber eyes looked away from Aballister, her mentor and superior.
The hollow-featured, older wizard seemed to take no of-fense. He rocked back in his comfortable chair, his sticklike fingers tap-tapping in front of him and an amused expression upon his gaunt face.
"Pieces?" he asked after a silence designed to make Dorigen uncomfortable. "Shilmista has been, or soon will be, reclaimed by the elves, that much is true," he admitted. "But their insignificant number has been halved by all reports - less than a hundred of them remain to defend the forest."
"And we lost more than a thousand soldiers," Dorigen snapped sharply. "Thousands more have fled our dominion, gone back to then- mountain holes."
"Where we might reclaim them," AbalHster assured her, "when the time is right."
Dorigen fumed but remained silent. She brushed a bead of sweat from her crooked nose and again looked away. Sporting two broken hands, the woman felt vulnerable with both unpredictable Aballister and upstart Bogo Rath in the private room, to say nothing of Druzil, Aballister's pet imp. That was one of the problems in working beside such evil men, Dorigen reminded herself. She could never be certain when Aballister might think he would be better off without her.
"Vfe still have three thousand soldiers - mostly human - at our immediate disposal," Aballister went on. "The gob-linoids will be brought back when we need them - after the winter, perhaps, when the season is favorable for an invasion"
"How many will we need?" he asked, more to Bogo than to Dorigen. "Shilmista is but a semblance of itself, and the Edificant Library has been severely wounded. That leaves only Carradoon." The tone of Aballister's voice showed dearly how he felt about the farmers and fishermen of the small community on the banks of Impresk Lake.
"I'll not deny that the library has been wounded," Dorigen replied, "but we really do not know the extent of those wounds. You seem to have underestimated Shilmista as well. Must I remind you of our most recent defeat?"
"And must I remind you that it was you, not I, who presided over that defeat?" the older wizard growled, his dark-eyed gaze boring into Dorigen. "That it was Dorigen who fled the forest at the most critical stages of the battle?" Seeing her cowed, Aballister again rocked back in his chair and calmed.
"I sympathize with your pains," he said quietly. "You have lost Trennek. That must have been a terrible blow."
Dorigen winced. She had expected the remark, but it stung her nonetheless. Tiennek, a barbarian warrior she had plucked from the northland and trained to serve as her consort, had replaced Aballister as her lover. Dorigen didn't doubt for a minute the older wizard's satisfaction upon hearing that the great warrior had been killed. A woman nearly two feet shorter than Tiennek and barely a third of his weight had done the deed. In reporting the incident, the imp Dnizil had purposely downplayed the young woman's prowess, Dorigen knew, just to fan the flames that had come between the two wizards.
Dorigen wanted to fight back, wanted to shout in the wizard's bee that he could not understand the power of that young woman, Danica, the monk escort of Cadderly, and of all the enemies she had met in Shilmista. She looked to Druzil, who had been there beside her, but the imp covered his doglike face with his leathery wings and made no move to support her.
"Wretched, cowardly creature," Dorigen muttered. Since their return to Castle Trinity, Dnizil had avoided contact with Dorigen. He held no loyalty to Aballister, she knew, except that Aballister was in control here, and the prudent imp always preferred to be on the winning side.
"Enough of this bantering," Aballister said suddenly. "Our plans have been delayed by some unexpected problems."
"Like your own son," Dorigen had to put in.
Aballister's smile hinted that Dorigen might have overstepped her bounds.
"My son," the wizard echoed, "dear young Cadderly. Yes, Dorigen, he has proved the most unexpected and severe of our problems. Do you agree, Boygo?"
Dorigen looked to the youngest of Castle Trinity's wizards, Bogo Rath, whom she and her mentor routinely called "Boygo."
The young man narrowed his eyes at the insult, not that he hadn't expected it. He was so very different from his two peers, and so often the butt of their jokes. He jerked his head back and forth, flipping his long, stringy brown hair over one ear, away from the side of his head that he kept shaved.
Dorigen, tiring of Bogo's outrageous actions, almost growled at his ridiculous haircut.
"Your son has indeed proved to be quite a problem," Bo-go replied. "What else might we expect from the offspring of mighty Aballister? If young Cadderly must fight on the other side, then we would be wise to pay attention to him."
"Young Cadderly," Dorigen mumbled, her face locked in an expression of disgust. "Young Cadderly" had to be at least two or three years older than this upstart!
Aballister held up a small, bulging bag and shook it once to show the others that its thickness came from many coins - gold, probably. Dorigen understood the bag's significance, understood what it would buy for Aballister, and for Bogo as well. Bogo had come from Wfestgate, a city four hundred miles to the northeast, at the mouth of the Lake of Dragons. Wfestgate was notable as a bustling trading town, and it was known, too, for an assassin band called the Night Masks, who were among the cruelest killers in the Realms.
"Even your Night Masks will have a difficult time striking at our young scholar, whether he is in Shilmista or has returned to the Edificant Library," Dorigen asserted, if for no better reason than to take some of the bite out of Aballister's icy demeanor concerning his son. For all that she hated Cadderly - he had broken her hands and stolen several magical items from her - Dorigen simply could not believe Aballister's viciousness toward his own son.
"He is not in Shilmista," Bogo replied with a grin, his brown eyes flashing with excitement, "nor in the library." Dorigen stared at Bogo, and her sudden interest obviously pleased the young wizard. "He is in Carradoon."
"Rousing the garrison, no doubt," Aballister added.
"How can you be certain?" Dorigen asked Bogo.
Bogo looked to Aballister, who shook the bag of gold once more. Its tinkling coins sent a shiver along Dorigen's spine. Bogo's assassin connections with West gate, his one daim to any prestige in Castle Trinity, were already on the trail.
Even though her hands continued to throb, Dorigen felt pity for the young scholar.
"One problem at a time, dear Dorigen," Aballister said, a thought he had iterated before, when he had first told Dorigen of his plans for his son. Again the older wizard shook the bag of gold, and again a shiver coursed along Dorigen's spine.
Elbereth and Danica sat atop Deny Ridge, a defensible position that the elves had taken as their base. Few of the elven folk were about this starry night, and there was no longer any danger demanding an alert garrison. Indeed, according to Hammadeen - and the dryad's tree-gotten information had been accurate since Cadderly had pressed her into service weeks earlier - no monsters were within ten miles of the ridge.
It was peaceftil and quiet, not the ring of swords or the cries of the dying to be heard.
"The wind grows chill," Elbereth commented, offering Danica his traveling cloak. She accepted it and lay in the thick grass beside the elf, looking up to the countless stars and the few black forms of meandering clouds.
Elbereth's soft chuckle led her to sit up once more. She followed the elf s gaze to the base of the sloping hill. Squinting, she could just make out three forms - one elven and the other two obviously dwarven - darting in and out of the shadows along the tree line.
"Shayleigh?" Danica asked.
Elbereth nodded. "She and the dwarves have become great friends in the last few weeks," he noted. "Shayleigh admires their courage and is not ungrateful that they have remained to aid in our fight."
"Is the elf long ungrateful?" Danica asked slyly.
Elbereth managed a smile at her good-natured sarcasm. He recalled his first meeting with the dwarves, and how he had come close to trading serious blows with Ivan. How long ago that seemed now! Elbereth had been just a prince then, in disfavor with his father, the king, at a time when the forest was in peril.
"I am not ungrateful," he replied softly. "I will never forget the debt I owe the dwarves . . . and you." He locked stares with Danica then, his silver eyes catching the woman's rich brown orbs in an unblinking gaze.
Their faces lingered, barely an inch apart.
Danica cleared her throat and turned away. "The fighting nears its end," she remarked, stealing the romance from the moment. Elbereth knew at once where her comment would lead, for she had hinted at her plans for several days.
"will be ridding Shflmista of the goblin vermin for the rest of the season," the elf king said firmly. "And I fear that a new attack might begin in the spring, after the mountain trails are clear."
"Hopefully by then Carradoon and the library will be roused " Danica offered.
"Will you help that process?"
Danica looked back down the grassy slope, where the three forms were now steadily approaching.
"Never did care much for trees," they heard Ivan complaining as he nibbed at his nose.
"I would have thought that one as short as a dwarf would be able to avoid low-hanging branches," Shayleigh replied with a melodic laugh.
"Hee hee hee," added Pikel, prudently swerving out of Ivan's backhanded reach.
"The time has come for me, and Ivan and Pikel, to depart," Danica blurted, hating the words but having to say them. Elbereth's smile was gone in an instant. He looked long and hard at the woman and did not respond.
"Perhaps we should have left with Avery and Rufo for the library," Danica went on.
"Or perhaps you should trust them to handle the affairs at the library and in Carradoon," Elbereth put in. "You could remain, all three. The invitation is open, and I assure you that Shilmista takes on an entirely new beauty under winter's white blanket."
"I do not doubt your words," Danica replied, "but I fear I must go. There is - "
"Cadderly," Elbereth interrupted, smiling despite his disappointment that his three friends would soon leave.