With eyes as bleak and cold as the night wind, Derkin turned to Tap Tolec. "Awaken the camp," he said. "We move at once."
"But there's no way out," Talon Oakbeard muttered. "We're still surrounded."
"We go there." Derkin pointed at the still-billowing dust. "There, with our backs to the mountain, we can make them pay more dearly for each of us they kill."
Darkness and speed now were the dwarves' final allies. Before the soldiers east and west of the landslide's fan could close in, Derkin's entire camp had been moved. Leaving the barren clearing around the ruined palace behind them, they transferred themselves and everything they could ride, herd, or carry into the field of tumble-stone beneath the steep, sheared peak.
But as his people dug in there, in the final hour of darkness, Derkin remembered a debt of honor. At the edge of the avalanche fan, Tulien Gart was struggling with a balky horse, trying to follow the dwarves into the maze of scattered stone. Ordering the Ten to stay and organize their defenses, Derkin hurried down the slope toward the man. As he approached, he held out his hand. "You have done all you can for us, human," he said. "Dreyus lives, and if you stay here you will die. Get on that horse and follow the dust cloud. In the darkness and confusion, one rider might get through."
For an instant, Gart hesitated. Then he nodded. He could do no more here. The dwarf was repaying a debt of gratitude. Derkin was offering him his life. Pulling his horse away from the rocks, Tulien Gart bowed, a bow of true respect. "Farewell, Derkin Lawgiver," he said. "May whatever gods you choose protect you." He mounted then and rode away in the starlit darkness, heading east, following the drifting cloud of dust.
Derkin turned and hesitated. He sensed that he was not alone, but saw no one. Then a starlit face appeared from nothingness, and he sighed. Helta had followed him. "You still have that elf's invisible cloak," he rasped. "I thought I told you to…"
Running feet scuffed the ground, and excited whispers reached his ears. "It's the leader! Get him!"
"Derkin!" Helta shouted. "Watch out!"
But it was too late. Something heavy crashed against the temple of his helm, and the world went dark as the ground rose to meet him.
Stunned, unable to move or even gasp, Derkin saw torchlight flare, and there were humans all around. A patrol of soldiers, searching the field. A sling hummed and spat, a soldier screeched, and the torch fell and went out. In the darkness, Derkin felt something being spread over him. Then the voices came again-guttural, human voices. "Why, it's only a dwarf girl!" one said. "This is no 'leader/ Cooby."
"I swear he was here," another said. "At least, I thought I saw him."
"Well, there's no one here now except her. Whoop! Catch her! Don't let her get away!"
"It's all right. I have her. Ow! Give me a hand here! She's as strong as an ox!"
His mind screaming silently, Derkin could only listen as the humans carried Helta away. Seconds passed, and he felt himself beginning to recover, but already the sounds were fading into distance, and there was nothing he could do.
But then the fading footsteps halted, and a man's voice shouted, "Oh, gods, no!"
Other voices drowned his, shouting and screaming. There were several distinct thuds, and various crashing, clattering noises. With a thrust of iron will, Derkin forced his fingers to move, then his hands, arms, and legs. He rolled over, staggered upright, and the invisible cloak fell away from him. The world seemed to pitch and sway around him, but he forced his vision to steady itself as he saw movement. He squinted in the starlight, then gaped.
Helta Graywood came to him out of the starlit darkness, chattering and caressing. "You're alive!" she said. "Oh, I was so afraid."
He stared past her at the two towering, lurching creatures behind her.
Helta glanced around. "Goath and Ganat were watching," she said. "They saved me."
"Pretty one Derkin's mate," one of the ogres rumbled, sounding almost apologetic. "Nice little dwarf. Humans act bad to her."
"Won't bother her anymore, though," the other added. "We bashed 'em."
First light of dawn brought moments of confusion to Dreyus's forces. The dwarven encampment out on the flats was gone, but it didn't take long to find where they had gone. In the night, a huge avalanche had crashed down on the central section of the army's southern cordon. Where there had been great mine pits, now there was only a sloping field of rubble. And at least one battalion of soldiers camped there was gone as though it had never existed. But the dwarves were found. They had taken shelter among the fallen stones.
Just out of range of crossbows, javelins, and slings, Dreyus and his commanders assembled on the flats, looking up at the remaining dwarves.
"Sire, we have lost nearly two thousand men in a day and a night in this place," one of the senior commanders noted. "These dwarves cannot win, of course. They are trapped where they are, with that cliff at their backs and our units all around. But there are still thousands of dwarves here, and they fight fiercely. We will lose more men today. With the road closed beyond repair, is this place worth such a price to His Imperial Majesty?"
"My voice is the emperor's voice," Dreyus rasped. "Those dwarves have tampered with the destiny of the empire. They must die. No quarter, and no prisoners. We will put an end to them here."
Up on the rockfall slope, several dwarves appeared atop a wedge of stone, barely sixty yards from Dreyus and his officers. Dreyus recognized Derkin and snarled. The dwarf stood in plain view, fists on his hips, looking this way and that as though counting the human army… as though gloating at the obvious losses they had sustained.
"I want them all to die, here and now," Dreyus hissed. "And I want that one'sliead, to send back to Daltigoth."
"Yes, Sire." The senior commander saluted. "We will regroup, then. Their new position requires some changes in tactic."
"A delay?" Dreyus glared at the man. "How long?"
"Not past noon, Sire," the officer said. "A few hours to realign our troops. Then we can move on the dwarves."
"I want an end to this today!" Dreyus declared.
The officer conferred with his lieutenants for a moment, then saluted Dreyus again. "It shall be as you order, Sire."
Off to the humans' left, just beyond the east slope of the rockfall, a clamor broke out. For long minutes, the peak's sheared face echoed the sounds of furious combat, then a company of lancers and several hundred footmen came racing around the fan, shouting and pointing back. "Dwarves!" a leader shouted. "A thousand or more of them! They hit us from behind!"
The Chosen Ones, up in the rocks, had heard the clamor, too, and tried to see what was happening. A hundred or more of them crept to observation points looking eastward, just as a large party of dwarves piled into the rocks from that point. They were strangers, but where they had been, the rocky ground was littered with fallen humans.
Without ceremony, the newcomers scurried into the stonefall, and one of them, a stocky, gold-bearded young dwarf, shouted, "Where is Hammerhand?"
Derkin and the Ten hurried around a pile of stone. "I'm here," he answered. "Who are you?" He stopped, and blinked. "Luster? By Reorx's rosy red rear! It's Luster Red-leather!"
"Of course it is." The Daewar grinned. "And these are friends of mine." He indicated a burly, dark-bearded young Hylar beside him. "This is Culom Vand. He's Dun-barth Ironthumb's son. He and I sort of take turns leading this crowd. We've been looking for you since last fall. Then, a week ago, Culom had an odd dream."