Catti-brie looked down at the water and steeled her thoughts and her heart.
Asa Havel, sitting beside her, put a hand on her shoulder. When she looked at the half-elf, he offered a warm and comforting smile. That smile turned a bit mischievous, and he nodded down to her torn boot. Catti-brie followed his gaze then looked back up at him, her face flushed with embarrassment.
But the elf nodded and shrugged, and lifted his red and black hair by his left ear, turning his head to catch the moonlight so that she could take note of a white scar running up the side of his head. He took her wand and assumed a pensive pose, tapping it against the side of his face, in line with the scar.
“You won’t err like that again,” he assured her with a playful wink, handing the wand back. “And take heart, for your impressive meteor shower gave us the time to complete the floating disks.”
“It wasn’t mine. It came from the ring Lady Alustriel loaned to me.”
“However you accomplished it, your timing and your calm action saved our efforts. You will find a role in the morning.”
“When we avenge Duzberyl,” Catti-brie said grimly.
Asa Havel nodded, and added, “And the dwarves who no doubt fell this dark night.”
The shouting across the river ended soon after, silenced by a resounding bang as Mithral Hall slammed shut her eastern door. But as the wizards and Catti-brie set their camp for the evening, they heard more commotion across the dark water. The orcs scrambled around the towers and the wizards’ previous encampment, tearing and smashing and looting, their grunts and assaults punctuated by the occasional crack of a thrown boulder hitting the bridge abutments, and bouncing into the water.
Others settled down to sleep, but Catti-brie remained sitting, staring back at the darkness, where an occasional fire sprang to life, consuming a tent or some other item.
“I had an extra spellbook over there,” one wizard grumbled.
“Aye, and I, the first twenty pages of a spell I was penning,” said another.
“And I, my finest robes,” a third wailed. “Oh, but orcs will burn for this!”
A short while later, a rustle from the other direction, back to the east, turned Catti-brie and the few others who hadn’t yet settled in for the night. The woman rose and limped across to stand beside Alustriel, who greeted the Felbarran contingent as they rushed in to investigate the night’s tumult.
“We’d set off for Winter Edge to quarry more stones,” explained the leader, a squat and tough old character with a white beard and eyebrows so bushy that they hid his eyes. “What in the grumble of a dragon’s belly hit ye?”
“Obould,” Catti-brie said before Alustriel could respond.
“So much then for the good intentions,” said the Felbarran dwarf. “Never thought them dogs’d sit quiet on the ground they’d taken. Mithral Hall get breached?”
“Never,” said Catti-brie.
“Good enough then,” said the dwarf. “We’ll push ’em back north o’ the wall in short order.”
“In the morning,” said Alustriel. “My charges are preparing their spells. I have ears and a voice in Mithral Hall to coordinate the counterattack.”
“Might be then that we’ll kill ’em all and not let any be running,” said the dwarf. “More’s the fun!”
“Set your camp by the river, and order your forces into small and swift groups,” Alustriel explained. “We will open magical gates of transport to the other bank and your speed and coordination in entering the battlefield will prove decisive.”
“Pity them orcs, then,” said the dwarf, and he nodded and bowed, then stormed off, barking orders at his grim-faced forces.
He had barely gone a few strides, though, when there came a tremendous crash from across the way, followed by wild orc cheering.
“A tower,” Alustriel explained to the surprised stares of all around her.
Catti-brie cursed under her breath.
“We will extend our time at Mithral Hall,” the Lady of Silvery-moon promised her. “Our enemies have exploited a vulnerability that cannot be allowed to hold. We will sweep the orcs back to the north and chase them far from the doors.”
“Then finish the bridge,” another nearby wizard offered, but Alustriel was shaking her head.
“The wall first,” she explained. “Our enemies did us a favor by revealing our weakness. Woe to all in the North if the orcs had taken this ground after the bridge’s completion. So our first duty after they are expelled is to complete and fortify that wall. Any orc excursion back to Mithral Hall’s eastern door must come at a great cost to them, and must provide the time for us to disassemble the bridge. We will finish the wall and then we will finish the bridge.”
“And then?” Catti-brie asked, and Alustriel and the other wizards looked at her curiously.
“You will return to Silverymoon?” Catti-brie asked.
“My duties are there. What else would you suggest?”
“Obould has shown his hand,” Catti-brie replied. “There is no peace to be found while he is camped north of Mithral Hall.”
“You ask me to rally an army,” said Alustriel.
“Have we a choice?”
Alustriel paused and considered the woman’s words. “I know not,” she admitted. “But let us first concentrate on the battle at hand.” She turned to the nearby wizards. “Sleep well, and when you awaken, prepare your most devastating evocations. Join with each other when you open your spellbooks, and coordinate your efforts and complement your spells. I want these orcs utterly destroyed. Let their folly serve as a warning that will keep their kin at bay long enough for us to strengthen the defenses.”
Many nods came back at her, along with a sudden and unexpected shout, “For Duzberyl!”
“Duzberyl!” another cried, and another, and even those Silvery-moon wizards who had settled down for the night rose and joined in the chant. Soon enough, even the Felbarran dwarves joined in, though none of them knew what a “Duzberyl” might be.
It didn’t matter.
More than once that night, Catti-brie awoke to the sound of a thunderous crash from across the river. That only steeled her determination, though, and each time, she fell back asleep with Lady Alustriel’s promise in her thoughts. They would pay the orcs back in full, and then some.
The preparations began before dawn, wizards ruffling the pages of their spellbooks, dwarves sharpening weapons. With a wave of yet another wand, Lady Alustriel turned herself into an owl, and flew off silently to scout out the coming battlefield.
She returned in mere moments, and reverted to her human form as the first rays of dawn crept across the Surbrin, revealing to all the others what Alustriel had returned to report.
Spellbooks snapped shut and the dwarves lowered their weapons and tools, moving to the riverbank and staring in disbelief.
Not an orc was to be seen.
Alustriel set them to motion, her minions opening dimensional doors that soon enough got all of them, dwarf, wizard, and Catti-brie alike, across the Surbrin, the last of them crossing even as Mithral Hall’s eastern door banged open and King Bruenor himself led the charge out from the stronghold.
But all they found were a dozen dead dwarves, stripped naked, and a dead wizard, still standing, held in place by a mighty javelin.
The wizards’ encampment had been razed and looted, as had the small shacks the dwarf builders had used. An assortment of boulders lay around the base of the damaged bridge abutment, and all of the towers and a good portion of the northern wall had been toppled.