Thus, with Banak, Pwent, and their charges—along with the dwarves of Mirabar—making their names in a heroic stand against the pursuing hordes, Brusco, Bill, and the others still in the east just closed their eyes and rested their heads and hoped there'd be orcs enough for them to kill before the war ended.
"Ain't seen Filbedo in a few days," Brusco remarked.
Bill cracked open one sleepy eye and said, "He went through to the west, and out across Keeper's Dale, from what I'm hearing."
"Aye, that he did," said Kingred Doughbeard, who was up above them in the tower, sitting beside the open trapdoor, his back resting along the waist-high wall that ringed the structure's top. "We're not to be relieved fifteen for fifteen no more. Only twenty-five of us left on this side o' the halls, so some'll be pulling shifts two times in a row."
"Bah!" Brusco snorted. "Wished they'd asked. I'd've gone off to the west!"
"So would us all," Kingred answered, and he gave a snort. "Exceptin' Bill there. Bill's just looking to sleep."
"Yep," Bill agreed. "And I'll take the two-times watch. Three times, if ye're wanting. Nine Hells, I'll stay out here all day and all the night."
"Snoring all the while," said Kingred.
"Yep," said Bill.
"Found himself a comfortable spot," Brusco remarked and Kingred laughed again.
"Yep," said Bill.
"Well, if ye're gonna sleep, then switch with Kingred," Brusco demanded. "Give me someone to roll bones with, at least."
"Yep," said Bill.
He yawned and somehow rolled to his side and up on his feet, then wearily began to climb.
The noise below, of Kingred, Brusco, and a couple of others they had coaxed from the tunnels to join in their gambling, did little to inhibit the ever-tired dwarf, and soon he was snoring contentedly.
* * *
Halfway up the outside wall of the tower, nestled in the dark crevice where the shaped tower edge met the natural stone of the mountain wall, Tos'un Armgo heard the entire conversation. The drow paused at one comfortable juncture and waited, cursing silently—and not for the first time! — the absence of Donnia and Ad'non. They were the stealthy ones of the group, after all, whereas Tos'un was a mere warrior. At least, that's what Donnia and Ad'non were always insisting to him.
Kaer'lic had given Tos'un a few enchantments to help him as he ran forward scout for Obould, but still, he wasn't overly thrilled with being so exposed, out alone in a nest of tough dwarves.
Obould wasn't far behind, he told himself. Likely the orc and his minions would overrun the feeble defenses of the encampment to the north within a short time.
That notion made the drow take a deep breath and turn around, picking his handholds. The cursed, burning ball of fire in the sky had moved behind the mountains by this time, thankfully, extended long shadows over all the area on this eastern slope. Still, it was uncomfortably light by Tos'un's estimations.
But it was growing darker.
The time of the drow.
* * *
Brusco blew into his cupped hands, then shook them vigorously, rolling the bones around in the cup of his gnarly fingers and callused palms. Then he blew into them again and whispered a quick prayer to Dumathoin, the god of secrets under the mountain.
He repeated the process, and again, until the other dwarves around the cleared, rolling area began complaining, and one even cuffed him off the back of the head.
"Throw the damned things, will ye?"
Of course, the dwarf's annoyance had an awful lot to do with the fact that most of the silver pieces were set before Brusco by that point, as the dwarf had gotten onto a winning streak since sunset, some hours before.
"Gotta wait for good ol' Dum to tell me what's what," Brusco replied.
"Throw the damned things!" several shouted at once.
"Bah!" Brusco snorted and brought his hands back to roll.
And a horn blew, loud and clear and insistent, and all the dwarves froze in place.
"South?" one asked.
The horn blew again. Expecting it, they were able to discern that it had indeed come from the south.
"What d'ye see, Bill?" Kingred called up.
The others scrambled out of the tower, moving to higher points so that they could look for the signal fires from their watch-outposts in the southland.
"Bill?" Kingred called again. "Wake up, ye dolt! Bill!"
No answer.
And no snoring, Kingred realized, and there had been none for some time.
"Bill?" he asked again, more quietly and more concerned.
"What do ye know?" asked Brusco, running back in.
Kingred stared up, his expression speaking volumes to the other dwarf.
"Bill?" Brusco shouted.
He rushed to the ladder and began a fast climb.
"Trolls to the south!" came a cry from outside, from the distance. "Trolls to the south!"
Brusco paused on the ladder and thought, Trolls? What in the Nine Hells are trolls doing up here?
Another horn blew, from the north.
"Get to the crawls!" Brusco shouted down to Kingred. "Get 'em all to the crawls and get ready to shut 'em tight!"
Kingred scrambled out, and Brusco looked back up the ladder. He could see one of Bill's feet, hanging out over the open trapdoor.
"Bill?" he called again.
The foot didn't move at all.
A nauseous feeling came over Brusco then, and he forced himself up, slowly, hand over hand. Just below the lip, he slowly reached up and grabbed Bill's foot, giving it a tug.
"Bill?"
No movement, no response, no snoring.
And suddenly, Brusco was blind, completely in darkness. Instinctively, he simply let go and tucked, dropping to the stone floor and landing in a bumpy roll. By the time he came out of it, the veteran warrior had his sword in hand, and he was glad at least to find that he was not blind, that the spell that had dropped over him was an area of darkness and nothing that had actually affected his vision.
"Get in here!" he cried to his companions. "Magic! And something's got Bill!"
Other dwarves, led by Kingred, charged back into the tower.
"Set a catch blanket!" Brusco ordered.
He rushed back to the base of the ladder and started up again, moving much more quickly. The other dwarves grabbed a pair of blankets, doubling them up. Each taking a corner, they stretched it wide under the trapdoor.
They heard a commotion above, shouts from Brusco for Bill, and a grunt.
A dwarf came tumbling down, hitting the side of the blanket and rolling off to thud hard against the floor.
"Bill!" the four dwarves cried together, abandoning the blanket and rushing to their fallen comrade, a bright line of blood showing across his throat.
"Get him in to a priest!" one cried, and began to drag Bill away.
The dwarves rolled toward the door, then stopped and shouted for Brusco when they heard another commotion up above.
Brusco fell from the darkness, landing hard on the floor. He tried to stand and staggered to the side and would have fallen had not Kingred rushed over and caught him.
"Damned thing slicked me!" Brusco gasped.
He reached back and brought a blood-covered hand back in front. All strength left him then, and Kingred had to set himself firmly to hold the heavy dwarf up.
"A hand!" he called, and another dwarf rushed to the opposite side of the wounded Brusco.
"To the crawls," Brusco managed to remind them, coughing blood between each word.
By the time they got out of the small tower, two carrying Bill and two supporting Brusco, they caught sight of other companions charging up from the south and heard the calls of those rushing back from the north as well.
In the south, they shouted, "Trolls!"
From the north came the cries of, "Orcs!"