have him down there. He was further pleased by a corollary benefit: having the cleric down there meant that the man was not up here with the half-giant. The sight of that veiled, featureless face never failed to send a shiver up and down his spine.
The Dark Knights, too, seemed inclined to avoid the half-giant in his lofty aerie, and Ankhar was not displeased by their wariness. After all, he had his woman and a cadre of loyal ogres and hobgoblins waiting on him. All was right in his world.
“How long we stay here, Ankhy?” asked Pond-Lily, sidling close.
He shrugged. “You like it here?”
“Yes, I do.” She snuggled against him, sighing blissfully.
“Me too. Maybe we stay for a long time. Live here in winter, with fires on hearths to keep us warm.” With a squeeze of his massive arm, he held her tight.
“I like that. But bad men-what if they come and fight us? What those dwarves doing anyway?”
Ankhar chuckled genially. “Dwarves, hah! We squash them if they come too close. And see little fort down there, pet? Bad men have to fight through that first!”
And right then, before his very eyes, that massive gatehouse simply disintegrated. He saw the explosion before he heard it: the platform where a hundred ogres and a hundred Dark Knights stood blasted straight up into the air, propelled by a gout of flame and smoke that seemed to erupt like a volcano from somewhere deep in the bowels of Krynn. Pieces of stone shot high into the sky, intermingled with lazily tumbling bloody figures of ogres and men.
Next he felt the pressure of the blast, a sickening lurch in the floor beneath his feet. The massive High Clerist’s Tower swayed like a tree in the wind, and for an instant, the half-giant was certain he would be pitched over the low side and fall to certain death. Pond-Lily screamed, and for a moment, that piercing noise, coming from right below his ear, was the only sound he heard.
Finally the sound of the explosion reached him, a boom of noise louder than any blast of thunder he had ever heard. It felt like a punch to the heart and gut and deep inside his brain, knocking all the air out of him, smashing and staggering him. He tumbled back against the interior column, where the tower climbed to its lofty Kingfisher’s nest, then slumped to a sitting position, stunned and staring. The first echo came then, almost as loud as the initial blast, and all he could do was numbly clap his hands over his ears.
Jaymes, Coryn, Dram, and the generals watched the explosion from a mile away. The dwarf let out a whoop as the column of debris-intermixed with smoke and searing balls of fire-spewed high into the air. The blast was tremendous, carrying away the entirety of the south gatehouse and a great section of the adjacent wall. Even the huge spire of the central tower felt the shock, swaying visibly back and forth. Churning upward, the mass of smoke and destruction billowed into the sky. Bursts of fire showed in the darkness of the cloud, and for a splendid few heartbeats, the great scatter of debris poised, almost weightless, in the air.
The smoke kept climbing, but almost immediately stones, rocks, and bodies rained back down across the pass, killing men and ogres of the garrison who had survived the blast but weren’t quick enough to duck under shelter. One slab of wall, a hundred feet wide, smashed every Dark Knight on a nearby rampart above the curtain wall. A huge portcullis, bars twisted but still banded together, crushed three ogres who stupidly had raced outside the base of the main tower to gape in astonishment at the devastation.
Smoke spewed into the sky like a column of ash from an erupting volcano. Bits of wooden debris, much of it flaming, tumbled away from the murk, scattering like small meteors across the road, the mountains, and the interior of the fortress.
“Go now! Give them your steel!” Jaymes roared to the men and dwarves of his assembled, waiting forces.
As soon as the rocks and other shrapnel ceased to rain down, the dwarves of New Compound together with the infantry of the Palanthian Legion and the Crown Army rushed forward into the gap. Shouting and cheering, chanting hoarse battle cries, they erupted into the open. Dwarves banged their axes against their shields, and humans clattered their swords together, adding to the din.
The attackers swept forward in irregular formation-pushing through the choking smoke and dust, scrambling over the piles of rubble left by the shattering of the walls, stumbling and scrambling up the steep slopes. They charged into the gaping courtyards of the fortress. So much of the wall had come down that the attackers had dozens of possible routes leading right into the interior of the fortress. Quickly they rushed up stairs, claiming the tops of the walls to either side of the massive breach, and passed through the vacant courtyards, pressing into the fortress’s interior buildings.
The dwarves, with Dram in the lead, charged to the left, sweeping up onto a standing curtain wall, rushing along the rim, one by one taking the towers that obstructed passage at intervals around the ring-shaped barrier. Axes and hammers smashed against closed doors, splintering the boards. The dwarves crushed ogre skulls and broke ogre limbs with abandon, as many defenders were still stunned by the tunnel blast. Whether the ogres were lying down, fighting, or running away, the dwarves of New Compound gave no quarter.
Following General Weaver, the men of the Palanthian Legion spread out in the middle of the fortress, capturing one courtyard after another. Several companies burst into the base of the great tower before the defenders could recover enough to close their gates, and soon the attackers found themselves in the deep passages where long ago the Heroes of the Lance had lured dragons to their doom with the Orb of Dragonkind.
From there, the attackers worked their way higher, charging up stairways, slaying any Dark Knights or ogres who stumbled into their path. The farther they got from the scene of the blast, the more organized were the defenders, yet the swiftness of the advance continued to carry the day. The knights and foot soldiers swept through a level of temples and shrines, another of garrisons and mess halls. Six ogres tried to hold at the top of a stairway. Weaver’s crossbowmen shot them down with a single well-aimed volley, and again the emperor’s men rushed up and past.
General Dayr led the footmen of the Crown Army to the right, with a large detachment under Captain Franz attacking the separate redoubt known as the Knights’ Spur. They clashed with a line of Dark Knights on the drawbridge to that isolated complex, and again the charge swept right into the spur before the outer gates could be closed. Skirmishes raged in a dozen chambers, but the Crowns threw more and more men into the figh. The Dark Knights could only fall back or die.
Then Jaymes ordered the second rank-mostly heavy infantry-to advance in as close a formation as they could maintain through the rubble and debris. The field commanders would use the second wave as a reserve, concentrating them wherever the enemy seemed determined to make a stand. Some men cleared paths through the rubble, so the follow-up troops could fight more readily.
Then, finally, the emperor and the white wizard advanced, side by side, seeking an end to the matter once and for all.
Pond-Lily was sobbing, and Ankhar cradled her under his big right arm. They leaned against the solid tower wall inside the High Lookout, watching as the attackers ran rampant through the fortress. The southern gatehouse, where the Nightmaster had pledged an epic defense, was simply gone, blasted into pieces by the unimaginable explosion. Those pieces, the half-giant assumed, included the little bits that remained of the black-masked cleric. The gatehouse was merely a gaping hole, a smoky crater crawling with the figures of dwarves and the emperor’s men.
Bakkard du Chagne burst out of the door from the tower’s interior to find Ankhar and his ogress on the parapet.
“The emperor’s men are in the base of the tower!” he cried shrilly. “They’re coming up the steps! Our men can’t hold them back.”
“Coming up the steps of this tower?” asked Pond-Lily, gaping.
“Yes, you stupid bitch!” screamed du Chagne. “They’ll be here any moment!”
Pond-Lily uttered a choking sob and buried her head in the half-giant’s side.
Ankhar shook off his lethargy and shock to glare at the chubby, balding man. The former lord regent, used to obedience and command, nervous of disposition and irascible of temper, had been an annoying presence during their weeks in that confined space. The half-giant had tolerated him only because he had been brought there by and was under the protection of the Nightmaster.
But… he looked at the crater again. No one could have survived that. It seemed safe to conclude the Nightmaster was dead.
