Instead, he waved the dwarves on toward the canyon but stopped Magnus near the dry irrigation pond. “Can you slow them down?” he asked. “We’re two hundred paces from the canyon, but they’ll cover the distance in ten.”
The windsinger nodded. “I have a powerful song that will give you time,” he said. “Go on.”
“Don’t get yourself-”
“I have no intention of dying tonight,” Magnus replied.
Flecks of dried mud stung the mul’s face as a rock crashed into the irrigation pond just a few yards away, then he heard a crumple as heavy stones crushed the armored forms of several more dwarves. Magnus raised his voice in a thunderous song, summoning a tempestuous wind from the depths of the desert night. It roared down from the mountains in the blink of an eye, bringing with it a thick fog of cold mist. The blast surged across the compound, hurling broken mud bricks and dead livestock high into the air. It slammed the debris into the outcropping with a deafening boom, loosening a slide of rock to come pouring down on the giants’ heads.
Magnus pushed Rikus toward the canyon. “Go! This will hold them for only a few moments. You must show the others what to do when they reach the canyon.”
The mul obeyed, sprinting for cover. Once, he was overcome by dizziness and fell. Nevertheless, with his longer legs and lack of heavy armor, he caught up with the dwarves easily and led the way into the gorge.
The place was really more of a gash than a canyon, a sheer-sided crevice of crumbling rock that twisted its way less than a mile into the base of an enormous mountain. There were no smooth bends or gentle curves in the entire course. It changed directions at unpredictable intervals and at sharp angles. In some places, an entire dwarven company could have stood in dress formation across its breadth. Then, less than a dozen paces later, it grew so narrow that a giant would have to turn sideways to pass between its towering walls.
At last, Rikus came to a bottleneck in the gorge, where the cliffs stood so close together that he could have leaped from the brim of one to the other without a running start. Although it was not possible to see much in the pale moonlight, the mul knew that those cliffs were pocked with dozens of caves, the portals of ancient mines that had been worked, abandoned, and forgotten centuries ago-perhaps even before Kalak had conquered Tyr.
On the other side of the bottleneck, the canyon opened into a large circular valley. It was enclosed on every side by sheer walls of red-stained stone, many times the height of a giant. Like the cliffs of the bottleneck, these were pocked by mine openings. Those near the top could be seen as dark circles on the moonlit rock faces. Rikus knew that there were also several mine tunnels near the bottom of the cliffs, though they were hidden behind huge mounds of waste rock that covered most of the valley floor.
An angry bellow echoed up the stony canyon, then the walls began to shake with the steady crash of heavy footsteps. Rikus looked back down the gorge. The dwarves of the first two companies were beginning to peer nervously over their shoulders. The mul could not see the two companies bringing up the rear, for the gorge took a sharp bend.
Rikus joined Neeva, telling her, “There’s a huge tunnel on the far side. I think it connects to most of the others, so let’s go over there. Once the giants think they have us trapped, we can duck inside, then come out from the other mines and harass them from behind. With luck, we may even be able to circle back and block the canyon.”
Neeva nodded and passed the order back. The mul entered the valley, picking his way between mounds of red-stained waste rock and the stone foundations of several huge buildings. Neeva and the dwarves came close behind him, their armor filling the still valley with a clatter such as had not been heard there in a thousand years.
Finally, upon reaching the back of the gorge, they slipped from between two piles of rubble and came upon a small area of open ground. It was located beneath a towering cliff that seemed to rise straight to the crescent moons. At the base of the scarp, a tunnel ran toward the heart of the mountain. Though the passage was easily broad enough for three dwarves to walk down and high enough that an elf could have stood inside it at his full height, it was not so large that a giant would be able to do more than thrust an arm inside.
From the far side of the valley rumbled Patch’s deep voice. “There they are, Fosk!”
Rikus looked toward the entrance in time to see the giant’s immense form stepping into the valley, his shoulders turned sideways so he could fit through the narrow gap. He was pointing toward the open space in front of the tunnel, where the dwarven companies were gathering.
“Let’s draw them closer,” Rikus said. “Make it look like we’ll fight here.”
Neeva traced a line in front of the cavern entrance. “Form ranks by companies!” she ordered.
The dwarves rushed toward the place she had indicated, milling about purposefully. Although the scene seemed one of utter confusion to Rikus, each of Neeva’s warriors seemed to know exactly what he was doing.
While they arranged themselves, Patch and one warrior-probably Fosk, judging by the name Rikus had heard a moment ago-entered the valley. In three steps, they had already walked more than a quarter of the way across. The mul did not see the other two giants.
At Rikus’s side, Neeva suddenly cried, “Sult? Where in the name of Ral are you?”
The mul looked toward the tunnel entrance, where he saw three ranks of dwarves standing with axes drawn and bucklers guarding their chests. “What’s wrong?”
“Sult Ltak and his Granite Company are missing,” Neeva reported.
Just then, a giant’s angry bellow rolled across the valley, followed by the distant sound of crumpling armor. Rikus looked back toward the canyon. Beyond the lumbering forms of Patch and Fosk, he saw a third titan kicking madly at something on the ground.
“They’re still in the canyon!” Rikus said. “They must have fallen behind!”
“Either that, or stayed on purpose,” said Caelum, coming to the mul’s side. “The yalmus of the Granite Company is a brave man-sometimes overly so.”
“You think he’d hang back on purpose?” Rikus gasped.
Neeva nodded. “If he thought he could kill a giant, he would.”
In the dark shadows of the narrow canyon, the mul could see little, only the silhouette of a huge knee rising and falling as the giant stomped at his attackers. Curt death cries and the creak of folding armor suggested that the brute’s foot found its target all too often, but Rikus could also hear a softer sound: the incessant thump, thump, thump of dwarven axe blades biting into tough flesh.
Looking back to Patch, Rikus said, “Call him back, Neeva. They’ll be wiped out.” Neeva shook her head. “I can’t do that, even if Sult Ltak’s men would obey,” she said. “They’ve declared for honor.”
“Declared for honor?” the mul asked.
“You remember how Yarig fought?” Neeva replied.
Rikus groaned. “They wouldn’t do a thing like that.”
He and Neeva had trained with a dwarf named Yarig during their days in Tithian’s gladiator pits. Before each match, the squat gladiator would make victory over his opponents his life focus.
Neeva nodded. “In Kled, they call that declaring for honor,” she said. “Sult and his warriors must kill the giant or die trying. If they retreat now, it’s the same as breaking their life focus. They’ll become banshees when they die.”
“I thought your militia was disciplined!” Rikus snapped. He cursed and kicked at the ground. He barely noticed as his callused foot sent a melon-sized stone rolling away.