"What's the plan?" Mayor Holden called to them as he ap proached from the center of town. They turned to see Turq and the mayor climbing the wall.
Holden seemed eager to inspect the fortification. Now that the evidence of mountain dwarf treachery was inescap able, Flint reflected sourly, the mayor had become a devout patriot to the cause of Hillhome. Perhaps I'm being unfair,
Flint chided himself. The mayor only reflected the consen sus of the majority of the hill dwarves. The dwarves of
Hillhome had simply grown comfortable in their good life.
Anyone would be reluctant to rashly reject his prosperity when confronted with claims of an unseen, secret enemy.
And, Flint reminded himself, when the fact of the enemy had been made plain finally, the dwarves of Hillhome had jumped to the defense of their community. The four hun dred harrn and frawl who had taken up arms ranged from young adults to venerable grandfathers, and all were strong and dedicated. And those who were not physically capable of battle had been busy, too.
"Splendid, splendid!" crowed the mayor unnecessarily, looking around the graceful curve of the earthen wall.
"Now, what is our strategy?"
Flint, Perian, Basalt, Hildy, and Turq looked at one an other over the stupidity of the question, as if they were di viding up for a game of luggerball. But the mayor had inad vertently revealed one thing: they had not officially appointed a commander over their force.
"I suggest that Flint Fireforge be given the task of assign ing the plan of defense," proposed Turq Hearthstone quietly.
"Aye," echoed Basalt and Hildy.
"Yes," piped up Perian.
Flint looked around at his companions. He tried ration ally to consider the alternatives. Basalt and Hildy were too young. Mayor Holden was not a harrn of action. Perian was an outsider — a mountain dwarf, to boot — though it did not matter to him in the least. She would fight loyally for the town's cause, but she was not the choice to be its champion.
Tybalt, Ruberik — his brothers — he now sensed, looked to him for leadership.
"We'll meet them here," Flint began, indicating the wall.
He looked self-consciously at the others to gauge their reac tions, but when he saw that they listened unquestioningly, his confidence rose, and so did the strength of his voice.
"I'll manage the Sludge Bombers right in the middle," he decided. "That should break the cohesion of their attack.
Then, we'll try to hold them… where?" He looked at the line, evaluating the ground and finding what he desired.
"There." He pointed at the right side of the horseshoe, where it curved almost to the bank of the river.
"Basalt, you'll command a small company of hill dwarves over there, enough to stop them when they try to climb the redoubt. Perian can back you up with the Wedgies."
His followers listened attentively. He and Perian had al ready explained the gully dwarf formations, and indeed the
Aghar had demonstrated the creeping wedge and the
Aghazpult. They had come dangerously close also to ac quainting the hill dwarves with the dread sludge bomb, but fortunately Perian had come upon the bombers in the nick of time.
"Then, over here," Flint continued, turning to the left, where the wing of the earthwork extended into a field be yond the Passroad. Perhaps a hundred feet beyond the end of the barrier began the tree line, but there was no time to carry the redoubt that much farther. "Tybalt and Hildy will take the rest of the hill dwarves and the Agharpults."
He surveyed the expanse of the line, satisfied. "Then, when the enemy line is broken by the bombs and half of them are occupied over here, Tybalt and Hildy, you charge forward and attack with your company of dwarves. With luck — and lots of that — we can carry half of the thane's forces away before sweeping around to catch the others in the rear. With those trees blocking them from too wide of a movement, we might have the chance to hit 'em hard, cause them some real confusion.
"Now, Ruberik," he said, turning to his brother. "Are you still a dead shot with that crossbow?"
"I've been keeping my hand in," the farmer admitted.
"Good. I have a job for you." Briefly he explained another idea he had, and Ruberik gave his hearty approval. Flint's brother headed into town, seeking the two large, clay jars he needed to put the plan into operation.
"Now, we'll need some bonfires out there in the field.
That'll at least give us a picture of where they are when they're advancing." He stopped to think while Tybalt and
Hildy organized a score of hill dwarves. The group gathered dry wood and quickly started to form several large piles in the field before the redoubt. These bonfires would be lit as soon as the derro came into view, providing the hill dwarves some view of their advancing enemy.
Soon Flint turned to the others. "Now, how are we fixed for straw? Can we get fifty bales? A hundred would be even better."
Tybalt nodded.
"Good. And lamp oil? How many kegs do you have in your store?" he asked Mayor Holden.
"Well, there's not, that is, it's my most expensive item! I can't…"
Conscious of the stares of all the other hill dwarves, the mayor stopped speaking and flushed with embarrassment.
"Well, I guess I've got a couple of kegs. But what on Krynn do you need them for?"
Flint explained his plans, assigning dwarves to gather the necessary ingredients and make the required preparations.
Slowly, the various elements of Hillhome's defense came to gether.
The defensive strategy sounds good, Flint realized with satisfaction.
Even as they were speaking Flint noticed that it grew steadily darker. The sun dipped beyond the western hills, and twilight settled over the town and its valley. They've got to be coming soon now, he told himself.
"If they break the line here, everyone fall back through the town," he added, developing a contingency plan. "We'll make a final stand in the brewery, if it comes to that." Hildy had already offered the building — the largest structure in
Hillhome — for that purpose.
"Look!" cried Perian suddenly, turning toward the south.
The others squinted into the distance. The movement along the Passroad was painfully obvious to them all, even in the fading light. A long column snaked its way through the mud.
The armored mountain dwarf troops of Pitrick's legion.
"They must have started right at sunset," Basalt guessed.
"And they're coming fast."
"They'll be here in an hour," Flint judged, "maybe sooner if they hurry. That doesn't give us a lot of time. Everybody spread out!" Flint ordered. "Pass the word through the town — every dwarf with a weapon should get down here.
The rest should take shelter in the hills if they're not gone al ready!
"Basalt, Hildy — get your crews out there and light those fires. I want them blazing high by the time the Theiwar get down to the field. And then hurry back — remember, the battle's to be fought here, not out there!"
Basalt grinned as he trotted off with the fire brigade. The others, too, turned toward the stations for the imminent battle.
Perian turned to leave, and Flint caught her by the shoul ders. "Not you," he whispered hoarsely. "Not yet." Flint clasped her to him, and tucked her face into his throat be neath his beard.
He smelled of salty perspiration and soap, an honest, good scent. Flint's scent. She nuzzled him for the first time since they had left Mudhole.
"Don't tease me, you heartless wench!" he growled, gath ering her up tightly. He pulled back abruptly, taking her face in his thick, callused hands. "I've grown quite fond of you," he grumbled. "For Reorx's sake be careful!"
Perian tilted her head back slightly and gave him a linger ing, bittersweet kiss that was salty with tears. "I'll be careful — but only if you promise that you will, too." He nodded somberly, and she kissed him on the nose this time, reluctantly wiggling out of his arms.