"Finish her off, and bring the ax to me," she heard the magus order. The clicking of his wooden staff against the flagstones receded into the distance.
Little by little her eyes cleared and she caught a hazy glimpse of the malachite robe disappearing down the staircase. Gasping with pain, she struggled up, intent on running after the traitor and cutting him down. The amulet would protect her.
She was almost on her feet when a shadow hurtled out of nowhere. Whooshing over her head, the dark figure landed lightly on the walkway in front of her. Two short swords pointed menacingly at her chest.
"You should have known that the Perished Land would allow me to avenge myself," said Caphalor.
Narmora stared at the deep wound where her blade had gashed his throat. "If I thought you were a danger, I would have beheaded you," she said coldly. "You're no threat to us." She held the ax on high, knowing that Caphalor would kill her if he sensed she was afraid.
The дlf lunged at her, snarling, and Narmora realized that she would never keep pace with his attack. She retaliated with an offensive of her own and laid open the undead warrior's shoulder. The ax cut into his flesh, but Caphalor was undaunted.
"I'll cut you to ribbons, eat your flesh, and paint a portrait of your ravaged body with your blood," he spat, raising his weapons again. Harrying her with his swords, he maneuvered her closer and closer to the edge of the walkway. Belatedly she noticed that she was only a hand span away from plummeting to her death.
Caphalor dropped down suddenly and swiped at her calves. She leaped over him, whirled around, and swung her ax to finish his undead existence.
But the дlf had thrown himself to the floor and rolled over, ready to thrust his swords toward her as she delivered the final blow.
The ax head scraped along the stone floor, sparks flying everywhere, then sliced sideways into the дlf's neck, settling the matter forever. Caphalor's eyes widened.
But his final maneuver had not been in vain.
His swords had pierced Narmora's armor and embedded themselves beneath her collarbone. The half дlf found herself skewered above his corpse, unable to think or move. Through the haze of her consciousness she saw the amulet fall from her neck, hit Caphalor, and bounce off the walkway. The leather band, sliced in two by the дlf, unraveled onto his chest.
I still haven't… She tried to call to the others, but her gored chest and her ebbing strength turned her shout to a whisper. She could feel herself slipping out of consciousness and there was nothing she could do.
Her legs gave way and she slumped over Caphalor, her chest still propped up by his swords. Suddenly she felt unbearably cold. Incapable of even the smallest movement, she dangled above her foe.
Furgas… She had nothing left to give. Her fingers opened against her will, and Keenfire fell from her grip. Clattering to the walkway, the ax bounced against the flagstones and flew over the edge.
X
Blacksaddle, Kingdom of Gauragar, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle Tungdil glanced up and saw Narmora on the walkway.
The sight of her impaled on Caphalor's swords filled him with helpless rage. Meanwhile, Nфd'onn was descending the final steps of the staircase only paces away from Tungdil and the others. They were running out of time. We'll be lost without Keenfire.
"I'll get the ax," he shouted to Balyndis. "Keep the orcs busy and watch out for Nфd'onn. Andфkai will have to take care of him until I get back."
The firstling nodded grimly and felled a beast that was about to lunge at Tungdil. "Hurry!" Tungdil detached himself from the scrum and blew his horn to summon the warriors of the three dwarven folks who were fighting in the other halls. His call was answered by blaring bugles and the sound of dwarven axes on orcish mail. He hoped that the upsurge in fighting would preoccupy the enemy and allow him to slip past unnoticed.
"Vraccas, your name will be worshipped forever if you help me now." He finished his quick prayer, took a deep breath, and charged into the jumble of stinking armor and legs.
No matter how tempting it was to clear a path with his ax, he knew that his safety depended on stealth. Crouching low, he tried to scurry past the beasts without brushing against them. It would have been easy for a scrawny gnome like Sverd, but Tungdil was considerably broader.
Every now and then he was spotted by an orc, but he kept moving to avoid being caught. Twice he was seized by a clawed hand and had to use his ax to slice his way free.
At last he reached the place where Keenfire had fallen to the ground. He scanned the flagstones, but the ax had vanished.
"Tungdil, I've got something for you. Over here!" He turned in time to see the back of a dwarven warrior disappear from view. Keenfire's ax head glittered in his hands. "Come and get it."
This is no time for silly games. Tungdil set off in pursuit, dragging his wounded leg across the floor. He left the muddle of orcish shins and made for the shelter of a pillar. The beasts rushed on, too focused on defeating the dwarven army to notice what was unfolding behind them.
To his surprise, the dwarf turned and held out Keenfire toward him. Tungdil stared at him in bewilderment. "You?"
"Looking for this?" asked Bislipur. His body was twisted out of shape, his face a mass of shattered bone. Judging by his fractured skull, he had fallen from a great height. Tungdil could barely stand to look at him.
"I see you've been punished for your plotting, then," he said grimly, gripping his ax in readiness. He must he a revenant. "I told King Gandogar-"
"I don't give a damn about Gandogar."
"You lowered yourself to all kinds of trickery to have him crowned and now he means nothing to you?"
"All I ever cared about was having a high king who would do my bidding, a high king whom I could control." He swung the ax playfully. "A war against the elves-that's what I wanted. I even murdered Gandogar's father and brother so I could blame the elves and stoke his fury. How was I to know that I wouldn't need the pointy-ears? It's turned out better than I expected." He pointed to the dwarves locked in combat around them and laughed. "Don't you get it, Tungdil?" he said, noticing the other's uncomprehending stare. "I'm a thirdling-and so are you."
"No," whispered Tungdil. The shouts, screams, and ringing metal seemed to fade into nothingness as he stared into Bislipur's knowing eyes. He tried not to remember how he had initially felt drawn to him. "A thirdling? But I can't be. I'm a fourthling, a dwarf of Goпmdil."
"Like me, you mean?" Bislipur laughed in his face. "Tungdil, our destiny is revenge. Lorimbur was scorned by his brothers. They wouldn't share their talents and they mocked the thirdlings because they thought they were better. The gifts they received from Vraccas made them arrogant like the elves. Don't you see how they treated you?" He took a step forward. "Noble Gundrabur and his loyal counselor, Balendilнn, used you to suit their purpose. Why else do you think they were interested in you? If Lot-Ionan's letter had arrived at any other time, they would never have bothered fetching you from the long-uns. That's how much they care! They're worthless, every last one of them. They all deserve to die."
Tungdil felt the words cut into his heart and found himself succumbing to Bislipur's hypnotic stare. "No," he said hesitantly. "Balyndis…"
Bislipur laughed spitefully. "So you've fallen for someone, have you? And how do you think she'll react when she finds out you're a dwarf killer and a traitor? Your future is with the thirdlings, not here. You'll die with the others if you stay."
"A traitor?" Tungdil stared at the battle in sudden understanding. At last he grasped the full meaning of Bislipur's words. "It was you! You betrayed us to Nфd'onn!"
"Nфd'onn is a great ally, the greatest. I promised him that the thirdlings would do nothing to stop him, provided that the other kingdoms were destroyed. It was the perfect opportunity."