Disciplined veterans formed the front of the division’s line, and many stood fast in the face of the horror, while others, in displays of exceptional courage, rushed forward to strike at the unholy monster. Dwarves stabbed and slashed with their keen steel blades, but the swords merely bounced off the creature’s sinuous black flesh. The minion swept to the right, kicking with a powerful, taloned foot, and those wicked claws raked through the line, leaving three or four dwarves ripped and bleeding in the wake of the strike.
The dwarves hurled more missiles-arrows and heavy spears-at the creature, but like the first volley, the flying weapons simply soared through the black creature’s body as if the minion were nothing more than smoke. It whirled and charged to the left, clearing out more of Ragat’s frontline warriors and driving the rest of the division back in chaos.
The rebel dwarves wasted no time in exploiting the breach. Charging Hylar, sprinting on the heels of the minion, slammed hard into the broken line, thrusting and sweeping with long swords. Some of the king’s troops tried to rally, only to be smashed by the minion as it pounced, catlike, right into the midst of the knot of brave fighters. The dwarves tried to stumble away from the lethal swiping talons and snapping jaws, only to fall victim to the Hylar skirmishers who relentlessly continued to press forward.
The rest of the rebel force came on quickly, snapping the cohesion of the royal line in many places. The heavy infantry of the Black Cross regiment, clearly desiring to avenge so many fallen comrades, smashed into the line with such momentum that the defending dwarves could only stagger backward in a daze. Here and there the shield line broke, and hulking Daergar axemen thrust themselves into any fresh gap. They hacked and chopped in every direction, splitting shields and smashing helmets, acting with such fury that the king’s troops had no choice but to mount constant counterattacks-and each new gap or melee pulled more strength from the once-impenetrable shield wall.
Then the howling Klar struck the juncture of the regular and militia lines, doing so with such force and frenzy that the defenders, those who didn’t instantly flee headlong from the maniacal berserkers, were simply cut down on the spot. Whooping with shrill cries of triumph, the Klar sprang after the fleeing dwarves, leaping on their backs and bearing them to the ground, where they were summarily dispatched with bloody hacks and crushing blows. The surge of battle was a continuous thunder.
“You men of the Echo company, stand firm there!” shouted the general to one group. General Ragat marched back and forth on the wall above and behind his troops, exhorting them to greater courage, challenging them when they began to waver. “Hold, dwarves! Gainer, look to your left!”
The king watched it all, clutching his scepter, feeling his heart pounding against his ribs. Ragat’s movements had become more urgent, his voice cracking and hoarse as the pressure swelled. A company of young spearmen suddenly broke and ran; another formation of axemen was overwhelmed by the intensity of the enemy attack.
The monster seemed to be everywhere, pouncing upon helpless dwarves, using its wings to carry it along the line, rending with talons, and biting with its terrible jaws. Trailing blood from every limb, it flew up, threw back its horrid head, and uttered an earthshaking howl.
Even the most steadfast of the king’s troops quailed in the face of the unnatural horror. Ragat shouted in vain, trying to stem the growing tide of fear, but even to Jungor Stonespringer it was obvious that his royal troops were breaking in too many places to reverse the tide. Frenzied Klar scrambled over the dead bodies of their foes. The Black Cross survivors, seeking vengeance, burst through a narrow gap in the defense, and a hundred Hylar skirmishers spilled after them, savagely expanding the breach.
“Fall back! Retreat to the palace!” General Ragat finally ordered when the line had been shattered in too many places to count.
The troops of the Royal Division and the hordes of loyal militia dwarves started running for the open gates. A great throng backed up at the entry as the panicked dwarves struggled to get through, to enter the imagined safety of the palace. Others, seeing the bottleneck, turned and fled from the plaza into other escape routes, running down the many streets that led into the crowded quarters of Norbardin.
And the rebel wave came on.
“So when can we do it again?” Peat asked, scooping the diamonds he had just counted-for about the twentieth time-off the worktable and into a small, sturdy lockbox. He turned the key to secure the little chest and muttered a spell of sealing as he touched the lid. That secured the gems against any lock-picking thief, and the box would stay that way until he got the urge to count the stones again.
“I thought you couldn’t wait until we got out of here ourselves,” his wife replied tartly.
“What? Now? No! This is the business chance of our lifetime. Why, we made more steel from that Hylar than we have in twenty years of peddling potions and gadgets!” Peat beamed, thinking of all that treasure in gemstones; he knew there was more, much more, to be made. “So when can we do it again?” he repeated.
Sadie frowned. “I’ve been thinking about that.” She glanced around, confirming that they were alone-a rather extreme precaution since they were in the back room of the shop and the front door was locked with the Closed sign prominently displayed. “We better make sure the king’s men don’t find out that we’ve opened up a magic way out of Thorbardin.”
“Of course I know that!” Peat retorted. “It’s got to remain a secret from the king, sure. But you have made one copy of the spell; make another one, and then you can cast it again as soon as we find another dwarf or two willing to pay for the dimension door.”
“So,” Sadie challenged him. “That’s what’s troubling me. How do we get more customers when we can’t let anyone know what we’re doing? Not the king, and certainly not the Master; you can imagine what he’d do if he found out we’re freelancing!”
Peat frowned, scratching his balding head. “That’s a problem,” he admitted. “We’ve gotta be careful, so we can’t advertise. And those Hylar came right to us. We were just lucky the first time, I guess.”
A loud knock banged against the front door, and both Guilders looked at each other, wide eyed and trembling. Moving toward the front of the shop, Peat was startled to hear a great commotion, shouting and crying and the trampling of many feet, coming from out in the street.
“Well, go see who it is!” Sadie demanded, collecting her wits.
The old dwarf clumped to the front door and opened it a crack. He saw dwarves running past, fleeing from the square, screaming in panic-something about a monster and rebel butchers running wild. Right in front of him stood Abercrumb, his fist raised for another knock on the door. He wasted no time in pushing his way into the shop.
“You know we’re closed!” the Theiwar merchant protested feebly, still gawking at the chaos in the street.
“Who isn’t?” the silversmith replied. “I mean, I was keeping my own place locked and my sword handy, just in case things got worse. And they have! Now look what’s happening!”
“What’s going on?” demanded Sadie, hobbling out of the back room.
“The rebels are storming the palace!” Abercrumb replied indignantly. “There’s some monster afoot too. Those folks out there are lucky to have gotten out of the square with their lives! As for me, I’m just trying to avoid ruin and thought we should stick together in these dangerous times.”
“Yes, stick together,” Peat repeated unenthusiastically. He added rather pointedly, “You’re right about how close we all are to ruin. Why, we haven’t had a customer in weeks!”