"We gotta make that ridge afore 'em!" Thibbledorf Pwent cried to his fellows, pointing ahead to some higher ground.
The dwarves responded by lowering their aching shoulders even more and charging on. They reached the base of the ridge and started up the slope, hardly slowing.
But they didn't get there first.
"The wing is not broken, but it is bruised badly and will not carry Sunset for any distance," Innovindil told Tarathiel when he and Sunrise returned to her in the mountain cave, some miles north east of the place where they had battled the giants.
Even with the glancing hit by the thrown rock, they had managed to outdistance the pursuing giants and had been fortunate to find a cave where they could put up for the time being.
"The giants have given up the chase, I believe," Tarathiel replied. "They will not find us."
"But neither will we get back to the Moonwood anytime soon," Innovindil reasoned, "or at least, not both of us."
Her expression as she finished was as clear a signal to Tarathiel that she wanted him to climb onto Sunrise and fly off for home as if she had spoken the words directly.
"I am not certain that our report to our people would be complete enough to properly prepare them for what is to come," he replied somberly.
"What have you seen?"
Tarathiel's expression held a grim edge.
"They are crawling out of their holes," he told her, "all to the north and the west. The orcs and goblins are rising as one, and we have seen that the giants, too, are with them. I fear that the force that sacked the town of Shallows is but a small portion of what we will discover."
"Then all the more reason for you to fly to our people."
Tarathiel looked to his mount and seemed, for just a moment, to be leaning that way, but then he looked back at his companion and stood resolute.
"I'll not leave you," he said. "The elves of the Moonwood will not be caught off their guard, whether I fly there or not."
Innovindil started to argue but changed her mind almost immediately. She did not want to be left out there alone, however brave she might sound. She did not know the region as did Tarathiel, and she truly feared for Sunrise. Though the pegasus would survive the wound, it had been so valiant in holding its position above the giants through the pain and shock that the elf had no intention of allowing Sunrise to do anything but heal, even if protecting the pegasus was at the cost of her own life. She knew that Tarathiel felt the same way.
"And we have something else to learn, and now may be our only chance to do so," Tarathiel added after a short pause.
"You believe that the dark elf escaped the fight with the giants," Innovindil reasoned.
"It is possible that Ellifain is out there, as well."
"It is probable that Ellifain is dead," said Innovindil, and Tarathiel could only nod.
Initial shock, the adrenaline of an approaching, desperate battle, fast shifted to confusion among the ranks of the battleragers and the others in the fleeing caravan, for there, on the ridge before them, stood dwarves— a host of dwarves—and arrayed with the colors not of Mithral Hall, but with the axe symbol of Mirabar.
"Who are ye, and what're ye about?" the lead dwarf cried, and he lifted his helm back off his face.
"Torgar!" Regis cried, surely recognizing the dwarf.
A perplexed expression came over the dwarf's face, and he motioned to his fellows to spread wide, left and right. He, along with several others, came down to the ragtag group.
"Well, yer King Bruenor's got our weapons, and so's Mithral Hall, whatever his fate," Torgar proclaimed when Wulfgar and the others filled him in on the desperate battle and the retreat to Mithral Hall. "We come out to ask King Bruenor for his friendship, and now I'm thinking we can prove our own to him and his. Ye just keep on yer run and me and mine'll follow ye close."
"Ye let me and me own run with ye, Torgar o' Mirabar," Thibbledorf Pwent cut in as he stepped forward, showing his ridged, bloodstained armor in all its gory glory. "We give them orcs a reason to run!"
"Luck has shone upon us," Wulfgar whispered to Catti-brie a moment later, as the five hundred reinforcements found positions around the retreating caravan.
They both looked to Bruenor and to Pikel, still tirelessly tending the dwarf king and the other wounded. Apparently sensing their looks, Pikel turned to regard them and offered a wink and a hopeful nod.
Catti-brie couldn't help but smile but then couldn't help but look back to the north.
"You're thinking of Drizzt," Wulfgar observed.
"As soon as we get Bruenor back to Mithral Hall, we'll head out to find him," Regis said, joining in on the conversation.
Catti-brie shook her head with even greater resolve. "He will see to himself and trust that we will see to our safety and the security of Mithral Hall. When his job is done out there, he will come home."
Both Wulfgar and Regis looked at her with surprise, but both inevitably agreed. Without information to the contrary, they knew they had to trust in Drizzt, and in truth, who in all the world was better suited to survive in the hostile environment of the orc-infested North? More practically, none of them were really fit to head back out. Certainly Regis was in no shape to be walking a dangerous road anytime soon.
Catti-brie continued to stare to the north, and without even realizing it, she began chewing nervously on her bottom lip.
Wulfgar grabbed her forearm and gave a gentle, comforting squeeze.
"Elastul told you?" Nanfoodle asked Shoudra when the two met up in the corridor of their building a few nights later.
"He instructed me to go with you," Shoudra replied, her tone making it clear that she was none too pleased with the order.
"He has erred and continues to do so," the little gnome said. "First he chases Bruenor off, then imprisons Torgar, and now. ."
"This is hardly the same thing," said Shoudra.
"Is it so different? Will the remaining dwarves in Mirabar be pleased when they learn of our antics in Mithral Hall? Do we even have a hope of succeeding there, given that more than four hundred of Mirabar's dwarves will precede our arrival?"
"Elastul is counting on just that fact to gain us the confidence of Bruenor and his kin."
"To what end? Treachery?" asked the glum gnome.
Shoudra started to respond, but just shrugged. "We will see what we find when we arrive in Mithral Hall," she said after a moment's reflection.
Nanfoodle considered her words and her demeanor for a moment, then his face brightened.
"I plan to follow your lead in the cavern of Clan Battlehammer," he said, "even if that lead diverges from the edicts of Marchion Elastul."
Shoudra looked around cautiously, her expression bidding the gnome to speak no more of such foolishness.
In her own heart, though, the Sceptrana did not disagree. Elastul's edict had been direct and simple; Go to Mithral Hall and check on the traitor dwarves, and while they're there, do some serious damage to their rival's operations.
Better, Shoudra thought, that they go to Mithral Hall to reach out to King Bruenor through Torgar Hammerstriker and the others. After the disaster that had befallen Mirabar, they might find a new and stronger alliance with their fellow mining city, one that would benefit them all.
She could only sigh and wish things were different, though, for she knew Elastul well enough to understand the absurdity of even hoping that she could realize such a outcome.
EPILOGUE
With every stone he turned, Drizzt Do'Urden held his breath, expecting to find one of his friends buried beneath it. The destruction of Shallows had been complete by his estimation. He had no idea what the pile of shaped wood on the field just south of the town might be, but he supposed that the orcs had brought great siege engines with them in the final assault.