arrow range, and the creatures started to dive down. Dram and Sally exchanged frightened looks.
Their objective was the bridge. The flying draconians came to rest along the length of the span, turning the neat stone structure into an organic arch of flapping wings and hissing, clacking jaws.
At the same time a new, dangerous commotion arose from the south. The ogres and their allies were attacking along the entire front, bursting up from the lakeshore, scrambling through the lumber yards, pushing up the main road, and pouring down every side street. Dram immediately saw the peril-retreat was cut off, and the waves of attackers had them trapped on all sides.
“We’ve got to clear the bridge!” Dram cried.
“I’ll go,” Swig shouted back. He was closer by a hundred yards, and with a loud, “You louts, come with me!” he rallied two hundred dwarves to his side. They sprinted for the bridge.
Squinting past them, Dram realized someone was waiting for them on that bridge. A grotesque creature, a withered old hobgoblin dressed in feathers and beads, was waving a club that seemed to be made out of a human skull, dancing and chittering at them. She was perched on the highest arch of the bridge.
“It’s that old hob-witch,” the dwarf said to no one in particular as he was running hard, breathing hard, and surrounded by other dwarves. “She was with Ankhar every step of the way. But she’s not going to stop us, not with a hundred draconians. We’ll cross that bridge and set off the charges and buy ourselves a little time.”
Just then the hob-wench shrieked triumphantly. When she waved her wand, it crackled with flame, green fire sizzling all around her. She howled in exultant glee as sparks flowed onto the paving stones of the bridge, spilled over the sides, and hissed into the water. A wall of fire erupted, completely sweeping across the width of the span, soaring high, searing hot. Gouts of sparks cascaded down, tumbling along the paving stones, making the bridge so hot that even the draconians leaped and scampered to get away.
One of those sparks made swift contact with the fuse of the largest demolition charge, which led to a huge cask full of black powder. The powder exploded in a searing flash, blowing the entire middle arch of the bridge-not to mention the cackling hobgoblin and several dozen draconians-into tiny bits and pieces.
A column of fire spewed straight into the air, shrouded by smoke. A moment later the huge sound of the blast, a single, startling boom, swept over New Compound. The noise echoed off the cliff walls over and over.
And even before the noise faded and the dust settled, Dram knew that their only retreat from New Compound had been cut off. They must stay there and die.
Or they could desperately seek hiding places in the mines with their children.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Selinda didn’t yield to her despair until Lame Hale left her alone, after once more tying her securely. She had never felt so alone, so overpowered and completely helpless. Hale could do whatever he wanted with her, and no one would know. The dam of her emotions burst, and she sobbed until her heart was drained.
At some point she drifted off to sleep, though it was an uncomfortable rest, and she felt constrained by the bonds on her wrists and ankles, tormented by dreams of an unimaginable fate. Sometimes her tormentor was Lame Hale; sometimes it was her husband or father. She was by turns drugged, bound, or imprisoned, but always compelled to move in some direction she didn’t want to go.
When she awakened, she had no idea how much time had passed. She felt better somehow, and her mind was clearer. She found she could think more clearly, though that was little comfort as her only thoughts were questions. Why was Hale doing this? What was to be her fate?
She was frightened but had regained some equilibrium when the door to the room opened and Lame Hale entered. Perhaps she would learn something, though what she learned might be better not to know.
Her captor brought a waterskin and, limping over to the bed, held it up so she could sip some liquid. She lifted her head then fell back and glared at him. She spoke through the fuzz in her mouth.
“Is this water? Or is it another dose of your Red Lotus?”
Hale chuckled, a cold and unpleasant sound. “This is just water. The lotus is far too precious to waste on one who is already a captive.” He looked oddly thoughtful. “I have already been paid very well, but I have to maintain my profit margin.”
Reluctant and distrustful but overwhelmed by thirst, she took a few sips of the water. Insofar as she could make it out, the taste was pure, and though she distrusted Lame Hale, the water felt good.
For the moment it seemed as though Lame Hale were concerned primarily with business. In fact, he suddenly sounded a lot like her father-more concerned with making steel than with her emotional needs.
“We have a schedule to maintain, and I must deliver you on time. Your ship is sailing on the evening tide,” he informed her, speaking as if he were reading from a bill of lading. “You will be taken aboard at the last moment, under careful guard. And you should know that if you raise any sort of alarm, the captain would much rather throw you overboard than have to explain your presence to the authorities.”
“Where is the ship going?” she asked, heart sinking.
“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. Don’t worry yourself about things you can’t do anything about. My mother always told me that,” he said cheerfully. “Some of the best advice I’ve ever received.”
“I’m surprised to hear you even had a mother,” Selinda retorted. “Which plane of the Abyss did she come from?”
The man blinked as though he were offended and she felt a momentary glimmer of satisfaction.
“That’s enough talking,” he snapped, getting to his feet. “It’s time for you to go to sleep!”
“No!” she protested. Sleep was the farthest thing from her mind.
Yet even as she spoke, the word came out slurred, thickened by her clumsy tongue. What was happening? Her eyes flashed to the waterskin then saw the gloating on Lame Hale’s face.
“You… you drugged… drugged…!” She couldn’t even finish the accusing sentence before darkness claimed her again.
Even as the debris from the blown bridge continued to rain down from the sky, splashing into the water, Dram realized the near-hopelessness of their situation. The only path of retreat for the dwarves was gone; if they tried to run through the woods and cross the stream lower down, the ogres could chase them down and slaughter them with ease.
The ogres who had been charging around the lake once again started forward, while the closer wave of attackers-which included the half-giant Ankhar-crowded the road into town. With the enemy closing in on New Compound from two directions, the defenders had only one choice, one place where at least they could hold out for a while-the same place where the elders and children had gone to seek shelter before the battle.
Glancing up the valley at the heights looming over the town, Dram saw the three mine entrances gaping darkly from the mountainside. Each was a large, square hole with a steep approach; a few stout dwarves might be able to hold the gap indefinitely.
“To the mines!” Dram bellowed, waving his arms. He was gratified when dozens of dwarves, hearing him, echoed the call.
“Flee up the ridge and into the shafts! We’ll make our stand at each entrance!”
The cry spread. The dwarves moved as one away from the town, racing up the many steep paths leading to the nearest belt of mine tunnels, carved into the ridge looming directly over New Compound. The healthy helped the wounded, while some of the steadiest warriors-including Dram and, to his chagrin, Sally-fought a desperate rearguard battle against pursuing ogres.
Dram and Sally stood side by side on one narrow trail. They pounded their axe and hammer down into the faces of the few ogres who tried to climb up. One of the brutes tumbled back down the mountain, his face split by Dram’s blade; another dropped like a felled ox when Sally’s hammer connected with his skull. Their ogre companions held back for a moment, but when Dram charged toward them in a frenzy, swinging his axe through vicious circles, their pursuers decided that it would be better to go back down and loot the town rather than chase the crazy dwarves into their holes.
Fortunately, the plunder spread and the pursuit waned-no ogre wanted to leave the best booty to his
