Before he could issue further orders, the warriors of the two clans clashed in a barrage of blows. Many Klar tumbled away or writhed on the ground, halted by the stout Hylar defense. But many more frantic attackers pushed through the melee, desperate to stab, to kill. Baker held his little sword ready, standing just behind the dwarves in the front line. A Hylar fell, gouged deeply in the leg, and a leering Klar rushed through the gap to charge the thane. Baker cut down the wild-eyed berserker, surprised at the satisfaction he found in the bone-crushing swing of his weapon. He stepped forward, bashing at another opponent, then tumbled to the floor as something sharp and hot smashed him in the face.
He heard the fight raging all around and feared that he had been blinded-a dread that suddenly struck him as far worse than death. He clasped a hand to his face, wiping away blood and the broken pieces of his spectacles.
And he could see light! Wiping again, he discovered that he could see, though his vision was clouded by the blood that spilled into his eyes. He stood, trying to shake off a feeling of utter helplessness. Squinting, he realized that the Hylar had formed a protective ring around him as more Klar poured around corners to join the fray.
"Axel!" Baker cried urgently. "Come here! I need your eyes!"
"My lord, I can do nothing. May Reorx strike me dead as I stand-"
"Come, damn it! Tell me what you see down those streets!" Baker pointed around the lift station, into the avenues that were ominously silent. Unfortunately, anything more than a short stone's throw away was a mere blur in his vision.
"Down that street I see a mass of those shades-two, maybe three blocks away. The other street is quiet. No sign of dwarf or darkness."
"Up the street toward the shades-can we get away from the Klar by falling back that way?"
Axel looked around in astonishment. "For now. They'll have that side cut off in another minute."
"What if we were to run toward the shadows?" Quickly he outlined his daring idea.
Axel hesitated for only a fraction of a heartbeat, then his teeth flashed in a warlike grin. "Aye, my lord." In another moment his voice was a commanding roar. "Hylar! Fall back on my point! Double time! Break!"
Instantly the defenders swept back from the attacking Klar and poured around the side of the lift station as the pursuers tangled into a mass. A few of the frenzied warriors tried to sweep around the flank, but Baker used his sword and began slashing at the Klar who stood out from the blur. He drove the few maddened dwarves back with cuts and stabs.
The Hylar moved in a mass, following Axel's clumping lead without question. Soon they were running down the street, hundreds of howling Klar in pursuit.
"How far?" the thane gasped to Axel as he strained to breathe over the unfamiliar exertion of a full run.
"Two blocks," panted the venerable captain, keeping up remarkably well despite his gout. "Now one after this lane, here."
Baker spotted the gaps of a narrow alley connecting the right and left of the avenue. Just beyond he now saw the indistinct shapes of utter darkness and knew that the Chaos shades were hungrily awaiting the onrushing dwarves.
"You head right. I'm going left," Axel called.
The rushing Hylar reached the pair of narrow lanes that diverged from the main road. "Split up!" cried Baker, pointing to the right and left. "Half go each way!"
The retreating dwarves quickly veered off, and the Klar kept going straight ahead down the wide street. A few of the crazed attackers tried to turn into the narrow alleys, but their way was blocked by several burly Hylar. The rest of the Klar were happy to charge onward, rushing down the street with howls of bloodthirsty frenzy.
And the shadows met them in dark but exultant silence.
Chapter Seventeen
A Scheme and a Treaty
Accompanied by his assassin and a handful of warriors he had gathered from the returning boats, Darkend started up the long road that climbed toward his sister's house. One of his escort quickly hoisted the thane's banner, and he was startled when, as the pennant of the Smoking Forge passed, he heard hissing and jeers from behind the closed doors of several buildings. Darkend's mission was too urgent to allow him to take time to discipline these traitors, but he took note of the addresses. He would be certain to take appropriate actions later.
Slickblade took matters into his own hand when one citizen dared to hurl a clump of rotten fungus from an upper balcony. The assassin and three Daergar warriors broke down the door to a private inn and went upstairs to grab the young dwarf. They hauled the struggling, barely bearded youth into the street where he was cast to the ground before Darkend.
"Is this the respect you show to your thane?" demanded Slickblade, drawing his short sword and prodding the fellow hard enough to draw blood. "Now wretch, beg for your life!"
"Thane!" the rebellious Daergar said, angry enough to conquer his fear. "Thane of what? My house was destroyed by Chaos. My family, gone! And now I look into a room that shows a woman's hand, and I cannot even tell you the name of that woman!"
"Kill him," snapped Darkend, moving on as the assassin carried out his order with a quick stabbing movement.
He stalked onward with regal dignity but was far more concerned than he dared show. How quickly they had turned against him! Now every doorway seemed to offer an ambush, and each shuttered window concealed conspirators and rebels.
And what was the nature of this new supernatural enemy? How could they steal thoughts and memories, affect the very minds of the survivors? They attacked and destroyed on a level that was almost impossible to comprehend!
The thane's party passed the Second Level and moved steadily higher, toward the twin towers of House Bellowsmoke. One of the thane's bodyguards uttered a sharp gasp and fell forward, the steel dart of a crossbow missile jutting from his back. Others in the band immediately closed around the thane. There was no one who doubted that the arrow had been intended for Darkend himself.
Slickblade led a half dozen warriors off the road, climbing through steep alleys and lanes, searching for the would-be culprit while the rest of the party hastened onward. Soon Darkend heard shouts and a brief clatter of weapons. Shortly afterward, the men-at-arms brought a battered Daergar and cast him to the paving stones before the thane. This one, too, would not grovel or beg. Instead he spit a stream of bloody saliva that very nearly touched Darkend's boot.
"Kill this one, too," ordered the thane. "But make it slow, very painful."
A thrust by Slickblade's silver blade brought forth a long, lingering scream. That mournful wail trailed off into slow gurgling as Darkend and his henchman once more started climbing.
"A deep, twisting belly stab," Slickblade explained smugly. "Inevitably fatal, but terribly slow to finish the job. It will be a good lesson for anyone else who's contemplating another act of insolence."
"Are you sure you got the right dwarf?" asked the thane.
"Not at all," the assassin replied calmly. "But the same purpose is served in any event, don't you agree?"
"Indeed."
For just a moment the thane paused to look over the Urkhan Sea. From here he could see for miles. Explosive lights burst through the darkness in many places. Columns of steam rose from the water, hissing and boiling into the air. Fires still raged on Hybardin, and several of the meteoric dragons, trailing their clouds of smoke and sparks behind them, circled in the air a long way off.
Darkend banged on his sister's entry drum, the sound of his mailed fist pounding through the pillar of stone and echoing in the solid bedrock beneath. Within moments the bridge dropped, and the portal was opened by a servant, who bowed deeply and skipped out of the way as the thane stalked over the drawbridge into the manor's courtyard.