Flint saw Perian leap forward and drive her axe down through the iron helmet of a Theiwar. Basalt, too, swung his blade and sent an attacking mountain dwarf tumbling back ward into the ditch. All along the line, the dwarves stood atop the low wall, hacking and chopping at the derro com ing up beneath them.
The Aghar of the Creeping Wedgie surged along the top of the redoubt, bashing their shields onto the heads of climbing Theiwar, causing more confusion. Weapons struck, and blood flowed. Flint's heart lurched as he saw several defending hill dwarves fall and lie still.
The king of Mudhole held his breath, wondering if the line would hold. He saw a derro scramble over the wall, but then Basalt cut him down with a swift blow to the neck. Per ian led a band of dwarves in a sharp counterattack, batter ing and smashing the Theiwar, knocking them off the wall.
He heard her hoarse battle cry, saw the hill dwarves leap to follow her. She attacked like a banshee, laying about with heavy blows, darting away before a return blow could land.
Flint's heart faltered as a derro struck at her back; she sensed the attack with some kind of prescience and whirled to cut the leering Theiwar down.
Finally Flint exhaled, seeing the hill dwarves not only hold, but continue to drive the mountain dwarves back into the ditch. Disorganized, confused, and dismayed, the
Theiwar crowded together at the foot of the redoubt.
"Smoke's still keeping 'em away from here," grunted Ru berik, indicating the oily fog in the center of the battlefield.
Flint looked at his brother in surprise, sensing disappoint ment in his voice.
"You want a chance to shoot a few of 'em, don't you?"
Flint asked.
Ruberik cleared his throat, nodding. "I guess I would like to personally see that a few of 'em don't get back home."
The brothers turned their attention to the left, where the mountain dwarves had resumed their advance. They were swinging wide of the redoubt through the open field. Be cause of the black cloud that still lay across the center of their line, these mountain dwarves could not see their com patriots who had been halted on the right flank.
"Keep an eye on things here!" Flint barked at Ruberik.
"Wait! What do you mean? What should I — " Ruberik shouted as Flint darted away.
Privately, the king felt misgivings about leaving his brother in charge of the rambunctious Sludge Bombers. A quick look at the black smoke gave him assurance, how ever, for it seemed like it would linger for some time, block ing access to the middle of the redoubt.
Flint ran along the top of the breastwork until he reached
Tybalt, who stood among a group of hill dwarves on the left wing of the semicircular barrier. They looked down as the charging Theiwar suddenly veered away, turning and run ning past the front of the breastwork instead of trying to climb it. The open end of the wall beckoned out in the field, offering its easy route past the defenders.
Around the hill dwarves crowded Nomscul and the gully dwarves of his Agharpult wing. They hopped and jumped, attempting to observe the enemy over and around the slightly larger hill dwarves.
"Agharpults, get ready!" Flint shouted as soon as he was in earshot.
"For what?" asked Nomscul, turning to his king in puzzle ment.
"To shoot, you numbskull!"
"Me Nomscul!" beamed the Aghar. 'You king!"
Flint restrained his tongue for a moment, and then was pleased to see Nomscul and his crews quickly spring into action; they even remembered which way to aim!
"Good, good!" he encouraged them, slightly out of breath as he reached Tybalt.
"They're sweeping around quickly," said the constable, with just a touch of alarm.
Flint looked across the field and saw the mountain dwarves advancing at a fast march past the redoubt from right to left. Soon they would be in position to turn and charge into the rear of the fortification, past the end of the wall.
"We can't waste any time!" snapped Flint. He saw that the hill dwarves were ready for the counterattack.
"Agharpults, shoot! Shoot two times!" That command, he hoped, would keep them launching until they ran out of Aghar. Then he turned back to the enemy.
The pyramids of the Agharpult tilted atop the earthen wall as the lone gully dwarves who served as missiles sprinted up the sloping inner side of the barrier. Vaulting onto their comrades, the whole mass of dwarfdom toppled forward, momentum hurling the topmost Aghar into the teeming ranks of the Theiwar. They struck like balls crash ing into tenpins, knocking the derro formations asunder, toppling dozens of mountain dwarves to the ground.
"Hill dwarves, charge!" Flint raised the Tharkan Axe above his head as he shouted, and then stopped in surprise as a cool white light suddenly sprang from the axe, washing over the field. It spilled brightly across the derro ranks, and the mountain dwarves, to a harrn, turned their faces from the painful brightness. Flint stared at the axe for a moment, surprised by the rush of power. Around him the hill dwarves raised a hoarse cheer.
"To victory!" bellowed Tybalt.
With a ragged roar that almost matched their enemy's challenge in volume, the hill dwarves swarmed down and into the side of the mountain dwarf force. Flint saw Hildy, her face a mask of grim determination, race down the earth work. His brother Bernhard and his sister Fidelia were also charging with the frenzied mob, though he didn't know ex actly where they were.
"For the Great Betrayal!" howled Turq Hearthstone. The big hill dwarf flew past Flint and crushed a derro skull with his heavy iron hammer.
The charge came so quickly, and was such a stunning sur prise, that the advancing Theiwar quickly broke in confu sion. Desperately, in ones and twos and threes, the mountain dwarves met the rushing hill dwarves. A con fused melee erupted as weapons clanged against shields and dwarves cried out in the tumult.
Overhead flew the bodies of many brave, tightly bundled gully dwarves. The Agharpults were being launched with remarkably accuracy after the days of training, and the
Aghar were crashing effectively into the tight rows of
Theiwar soldiers.
Flint was surrounded by the mysterious circle of light as he led the onslaught of his kin. He wielded the Tharkan Axe with brutal force, striking to his right and his left as he waded into the Theiwar army. His blade smashed a dent into the black steel of a mountain dwarf's breastplate, felling the fighter in one blow. He parried a barrage of assailants, dropping two more with crushing blows that split their hel mets and shattered their skulls.
A derro screamed and ducked away, his eyes seared by the brightness of the blade. Others squinted and rushed for ward, faces twisted by hatred. But they had trouble facing the light, and Flint killed those that did not turn and flee.
The great din of battle rang in his ears, a constant disso nant clash of metal against metal, mixed more and more with the shrill screams and dull groans of the wounded. Flint saw a dazzling array of bristly-headed derro around him, their faces a constantly shifting pattern of cruelty, hatred, and fear.
He caught a glimpse of Fidelia, wearing an old shirt of leather armor and wielding a long pitchfork with deadly ef fect, pinning a squirming derro to the ground by driving the makeshift weapon through his stomach.
Around him he felt the weight of the hill dwarves crack ing the precision of the mountain dwarves' ranks. In the growing confusion Flint surged ever forward, dragging, as if by the force of his will, those hill dwarves who fought be side him.
He heard Tybalt's throaty roar as the constable slashed to the right and left with a huge two-handed sword. Almost unconscious of the sound, Flint, too, howled a battle cry and jumped forward to drive another Theiwar back. Flint noticed that his axe glowed as brightly as ever, and now the steel haft had begun to grow warm under his palms. The blood of dead mountain dwarves darkened the blade.