“Yes?” The giant was there, with two dozen of his fellows. They were bandaged and battered, but their grim expressions and ready weapons clearly indicated their willingness to attack.
“As soon as the batteries have cleared a path, I want you to charge into the breach. The rest of us will be right behind-but you need to try and get to the pavilion. Belynda and Darann are in there. We’re going to try and bring them out!”
“It will be a pleasure,” promised the big warrior, his voice an anticipatory growl. “You can count on us.”
“General Natac! Look at this! You’ve got to see!”
The cry came from one of the lookouts still on the balcony overhead. Seeing that his troops were moving into position for the attack, Natac raced up the stairs and looked over the teeming plaza, past the awnings and buildings of the enemy pavilion, to the causeway beyond.
“What is that?” Natac asked, squinting into the distance.
A column of warriors, sunlight glinting off their steel caps and metal breastplates, was marching across the causeway. They seemed to be emerging from the Metal Tunnel, far away on the mainland, and the file was so long that it clearly included many thousands of warriors. His first thought was that the Crusaders were receiving overwhelming reinforcements, but then-seeing the way the enemy troops scrambled to get a line of defense set across the end of the road-he deduced these were not additional allies of the invaders.
“Let us go now!” came the plea from below. He looked down to see Gallupper rearing, pawing the pavement and snorting eagerly.
Natac looked across the front of his army, and knew that the Goddess-or someone-was granting them a unique opportunity. The newcomers were attacking the enemy rear, throwing the large army into utter confusion.
“Bugler-sound the charge!” he cried.
And the Nayvian army surged forward.
D arann and Belynda moved silently through a narrow corridor. The commotion from the rooms beyond was as loud as ever, Delvers and Crusaders hastening to take up defensive positions, to prevent the new attackers from entering the pavilion. Already they could hear the clash of weapons, the shouts of battle as savage melees raged to all sides. A dozen steps later the two women reached a wooden screen which gave them the chance to see into the main hall.
Zystyl’s voice rose above the din, shouting orders, calling for reinforcements at the gate. They could see him standing on a table, directing troops this way and that, sometimes calling out his orders, other times conveying commands with those bizarre nonverbal thoughts. Many giants hastened to follow an order in response to the arcane’s gesture, and Darann shook her head. “I’m astonished they’ll obey him!”
“It’s because of the stone,” Belynda said in a whisper, pointing to the gem clutched in the arcane’s fist. “The power makes his word very difficult to ignore.”
“Then we should take that stone!” Darann declared with a sense of finality. “Do you still have your knife?”
Belynda shook her head. “They took it while I was a prisoner.”
“I owe that bastard a good, deep cut,” the dwarfwoman said grimly. “When I make my move, try and pull the stone out of his hand.”
The sage-ambassador found that she was trembling, but she nodded quick agreement. Darann continued down the corridor until they came to a door leading into the great hall.
Slowly, soundlessly, the dwarfwoman pushed open the portal. Delvers milled around a dozen paces away, but the Unmirrored were focused on Zystyl, apparently ignorant of the intrusion. The arcane climbed down from the table, clomping urgently, ordering his troops to rally. His rolling gait took him within ten feet of the door where the two women were watching.
Darann rushed forward and Belynda came right behind. Zystyl turned, nostrils flaring in alarm, but by then the dwarfwoman’s knife was slashing toward his face. He fell back with a shriek, hands flailing, and Belynda saw the gold chain flash. She grabbed it and pulled, and the Stone of Command was in her hand.
The dagger glanced across the arcane’s nostrils and he tumbled to the floor and scuttled, crablike, away from the women. Other dwarves moved in, forming a protective circle, instinctively gathering to their injured leader.
“Let’s get out of here!” Belynda hissed, as Darann hesitated, obviously ready to pursue the wounded dwarf. But finally, reluctantly, the dwarfwoman turned and accompanied the sage-ambassador toward the wide gate and the bright daylight beyond.
They darted past a Delver who apparently sensed their presence and lashed out with his dagger. The dwarfwoman stabbed with her own blade and, with a groan, the Blind One fell back. A moment later they were outside, facing a long column of warriors marching off the Metal Causeway.
“Who are they?” Belynda asked, as she saw the metal-armored warriors surging onto the plaza.
“They look like… no, it’s impossible!” Darann gasped, then shouted in delight. “It’s my own people, the Seers of Axial-come here from the First Circle!”
E ach of the mobile batteries cast a single silvery sphere, the balls bouncing across the paving stones, rolling into the rank of Crusader elves who formed a barrier before the Nayvian onslaught. Knocking some of the elves out of the way, the spheres abruptly ruptured, spilling a spray of white liquid fire across everything within a dozen feet of the erupting missile. The flames were brilliant, difficult to watch even in bright daylight.
“Now-go!” shouted Natac.
Rawknuckle had already anticipated the command, responding instantly by leading his giants in a rush toward the elves who were scattering away from the lethal fires. Wounds and fatigue were forgotten as these veterans attacked with a fury that stunned and terrified their enemies.
Natac came behind, leading his whole army, riding a wave of savage joy, propelled by thousands of voices joining in a ground-shaking roar. Goblins whooped, gnomes cheered, and more fire bombs clattered and burst as the mobile batteries fired again. The warrior’s steel sword felt hungry in his hand, and he was ready to kill, braced for the shock of imminent battle.
But instead, the enemy troops scattered, breaking away even before the first shock of combat. Many of the Crusaders threw down their weapons and raised their hands, pleading for mercy. Others simply ran away, vanishing into the pavilion, along the city streets, or even splashing into the lake. Natac stopped before two Crusader elves who were looking around in confusion. They stood numb and silent as he took away their swords, and even as he ran on they stayed in place, like heavy sleepers awakening from a long nightmare.
“P apa!” Darann threw her arms around the shoulders of a burly, gray-bearded dwarf. Belynda found herself crying tears of delight as she watched the reunion, saw the rest of the Seer Dwarves pursuing the Delvers who frantically sought shelter in the tunnels under the Mercury Terrace.
Other Seers were looking around in wonder, or coming up to greet the woman from the First Circle. “These are my brothers!” Darann declared, delightedly hugging two muscular warriors who crushed her in a return embrace. The sage-ambassador received a rib-cracking hug from her friend’s father, and only barely heard the snatches of rapid explanation.
“Axial wasn’t destroyed-just cut off by a cave-in? I knew it!”
“… Delvers, here?”
“And we’re here, too! Karkald-Papa, he’s a hero! He brought coolfyre to Nayve, and showed the elves how to make batteries! We’d have lost the war without him.”
“We found the message left by you both,” the patriarch said. His eyes narrowed. “Your husband is well, then… he survived…?”
“He’s alive, somewhere over there,” Darann exclaimed breathlessly. Already the Nayvian troops were coming into view, rushing through the pavilion, rounding up the confused Crusaders who had lost all inclination to fight. “Karkald!”
The dwarf rushed up to them, his eyes frantic. “Darann! By the Goddess, I was so afraid… I though t…” He couldn’t complete his thought, instead wrapping his wife in a long-armed embrace.