Vadania rapped a sunrod on the floor. Its illumination highlighted a fifth figure in their solemn cluster beside the forge. It was the translucent image of Andaron himself, no longer formed of the pages from his own chronicle. He looked at each in turn, a growing expression of puzzlement creasing his visage.
The earth trembled again, this time shaking loose a huge stalactite from the ceiling to burst upon the floor. The catwalk squealed in protest as it buckled and slumped.
"What are you waiting for, fools?" shouted Andaron's ghost. "I've given you your reward, the deed is done, and I can't hold this place together much longer. Run!"
"Which way?" yelled Tordek.
The ghost shot him a look of supreme annoyance. "The way out, unless you care to join me in eternity." He closed his eyes as if in tortured concentration. His image sank once more into the earth, heralding another jolt of the ground.
"This way," cried Lidda, running toward the mineshaft. Devis was already there, pushing bins of forgotten ore off the remaining sledge.
Vadania hesitated only an instant before chasing after them, and Tordek was hard on her heels.
"This is suicide!" Tordek shouted. "We survived the first time only through a miracle. This time the whole place is coming down. We'll be buried alive."
Despite his complaint, he helped Devis shove off the last of the bins. Together, they spun the sledge around and pushed it to the edge of the shaft through which they had plunged once before. He complained again, "It was a miracle."
"Yeah?" said Lidda, climbing on board. "If anyone's earned a miracle lately, it's us."
Devis jumped on behind her, and Vadania behind him, leaving Tordek to give them a push. He threw his full weight and strength behind the effort, shoving the sledge over the edge and leaping aboard at the last moment.
"Moradin!" he cried. "Please?"
HEROES
Tordek dreamed of Holten. This time his brother was young and hale, not harrowed and broken as he appeared in Tordek's countless nightmares of the past decades. This time the handsome young dwarf smiled at his younger brother, his ten-year twin, before turning to walk down an endless stairway. As he disappeared into the cool darkness, Tordek knew he would rest easy at last.
He slept for what seemed hours after the brief vision. When Devis woke him from this restful slumber, Tordek was not in the least irritated to see the half-elf smiling back at him. He even liked the black smudge that remained on the tip of his nose, resistant to any amount of scrubbing over the past five days. It was good to be alive and among friends.
There had been moments of real doubt in the tumultuous passage through the deep caverns of Andaron's Delve, but eventually Moradin provided that second miracle. After the screaming descent through the shaft and the cold plunge that was no less thrilling for being expected this time, they dragged themselves into the shuddering caverns and searched for Gulo's passage through the underground streams. It was past midnight by the time they swam up and out to the clear eastern stretch of the stream running past Jorgund peak. They did not stop until they were a mile away from the shaking promontory. From the outside and in the bright moonlight, the only sign of collapse was the absence of the trees directly over the foundry. At dawn, they could see the deep cracks in the stained white cliffs and several mounds of rubble at the base of the little mountain. The collapse stifled the stream, whose waters were already pooling to form a new, if small, lake. Lidda worried aloud that all their efforts might have been for naught if the collapsing delve had killed the stream.
"It will find a new path," said Vadania. "Water always does."
The druid mourned for Gulo, but she made no ritual of her grief. When the others offered their condolences, she accepted them with a quiet grace that invited no further efforts at consolation.
"He was a great warrior," Tordek said to her.
"And sometimes a great coward," she said with a wan smile. "I think I loved him best when he was afraid."
Later, as they marched toward Croaker Norge, Devis made a point of walking beside Tordek for a league. He was silent for the better part of an hour, but finally he said, "You know, I meant it as a compliment when I said you were a poet."
Tordek almost choked with laughter, but to Devis it seemed as if the dwarf was stifling a cry of outrage. Tordek did not correct that impression. "Just don't let it happen again," he said.
Devis nodded, smiled uncertainly, and dropped back to walk beside Lidda.
A few hours later, Lidda joined Tordek in gathering firewood. Once they were out of the bard's hearing, she said, "That was kind of mean, you know."
Tordek nodded and shrugged. "What he doesn't realize is that I'm a damned fine actor, too."
"Not all the time," said Lidda. "Right?"
Tordek looked at her and saw that she was not about to let the question pass unanswered. He set aside the fallen branches in his arms and sat on a fallen log. Lidda joined him there, sitting beside him without speaking for a long time. They watched the sun sink lower in the west until its upper edge barely broke the silhouette of the highest trees.
"You felt it, didn't you?" he asked.
"Maybe," she said. "A little bit, right before I threw it into the forge. Everything was happening so fast that I couldn't really tell whether it was the sword or my own fear."
Tordek nodded. "It was difficult," he said, "to resist the lure of the hammer. If I had held it any longer…"
Lidda chucked him on the arm. When he seemed not to notice the gesture, she repeated it with much greater force. "You did great. You were a real-"
Tordek looked down at her with one hairless eyebrow arched, and she squirmed under his gaze.
"Hero. There, I said it. I know you don't like the word, but it's true."
Tordek shook his head and rose to his feet. He gathered up the firewood in his arms, and Lidda did the same. They walked back to the campsite.
Sandrine stirred as they pulled the lid from her coffin.
Her eyes were still closed against the light filtering into her cottage from above. The vampire lay in a grave lined with skulls. Four shadows fell across her pale body.
"Did you think we would forget you?" asked Devis. He held the sharpened stake to her heart.
Either his voice or the pricking point of the stake plucked the vampire fully from her torpor. Her eyes widened as she saw her predicament.
"Kill us by inches, I believe she said," added Lidda.
"Hurry," said Vadania. "The earth cannot abide her poison any longer."
Tordek raised his axe and brought its flat side down against the stake. Sandrine shrieked one last time as her body wracked with the final, hated spasm of true death.
Tordek grunted and raised his axe again. This time he did not strike with the flat. The rest was work for flame.
No festival awaited them in Croaker Norge, but never had Tordek felt more genuine gratitude from people he helped. Granted, this lot had not paid him for his services so they should be doubly pleased with the results. Still, their honest offers of the best they had was more touching than countless free ales and fawning adulation from tavern wenches in towns he'd defended for pay.
Soon Tordek realized the trap of such honest gratitude when he began feeling that he should do more to deserve their accolades. They asked for nothing, but a blind man could see that they needed help repairing and rebuilding homes. Even with the return of the captives, they were left with barely half their previous population. Many of the survivors were injured too severely to be of much help. It would be worse for the families of the slaves who died in the mine, Tordek knew. He wished fleetingly that they had found a way to rescue all the hostages before facing Hargrimm and his henchmen, but he also knew that more evil might have been the result if he carried Andaron's Hammer any longer than necessary.