notice.
'You there! Halt!'
Basalt heard the frantic call behind him, but he just kicked his legs higher and drove himself faster up the twisting gully.'
He was a good climber, and he knew he had some chance of outrunning them over the steep, craggy slopes.
A loud whistle blew. 'The intruder! Get him!'
Basalt did not stop to look back. In the darkness, he was concentrating on finding hand- and toeholds in the dirt and rock, scarcely aware of anything else but his own labored breathing.
He reached a twist in the gully, but instead of following it, he spotted a ledge just above his head that flattened out for a short distance and led into the protection of some man-sized rocks. If he could just get to those rocks, he might have a chance of losing the patrol.
Drawing on strength he did not ordinarily have, Basalt flung himself up and onto the ledge. He broke into a run across the flat, gritty limestone shelf. Legs pumping wildly, he closed with the boulders and threw himself behind one to catch his breath for just a moment. He peered back down to where he had come from and saw no signs of pursuit. Hope blossomed in his heart, but he could not stop yet.
Keeping low, he zigzagged his way through the boulders and on up the mountain. The rocks gave way to a thick grove of pine trees, and he plunged headlong through them over a carpet of dried needles, uncaring of the low, stiff branches that slapped his face, leaving scratches on his cheeks. He could hear nothing but his own footsteps crunching brown needles and his heart pounding in his ears.
The stand of trees ended abruptly, and Basalt ran headlong into a moonlit clearing. He skidded to a halt in the dewy grass, looked around, and then all hope died.
He had burst into a gathering of mountain dwarves.
The armed derro were equally surprised to see a hill dwarf in their midst, but they recovered quickly and surrounded him. Basalt counted eight — a smaller patrol than the one he'd dodged below — but, weaponless himself, he knew even one derro guard was more than he could hope to over power.
'What have we here? said one of them, stepping out of the circle toward Basalt. The derro's corn-yellow hair stuck out at odd angles, and his unnaturally large eyes reminded
Basalt of two pieces of cold black onyx. But the mountain dwarf's skin was what was most disconcerting; its blue pale ness looked translucent in moonlight.
'Well?' The derro poked Basalt in the chest with the point of a spear. 'You're obviously a hill dwarf,' he said, taking in
Basalt's freckle-tanned face, thin leather vest, and muddy old boots. 'We don't like finding hill dwarves near Thor bardin. What are you doing way out here?'
Basalt willed his knees to stop shaking as he ransacked his mind for a response. 'I, uh, I was hunting!' he finished quickly, latching onto the idea. 'I'm near Thorbardin?' He let his eyes go wide with innocence. 'I guess I got so carried away that I didn't notice where I'd wandered off to.'
'What are you hunting at night? You hill dwarves don't see that well in darkness,' the derro said, eyeing Basalt skep tically. 'And no weapons?'
'Raccoon,' the young hill dwarf supplied hastily. 'You have to trap 'coon at night, because that's when they come out of their nests.'
The derro appeared to be considering Basalt's answer, rocking back on his heels, searching the hill dwarf's face for deception. All he detected was fear.
The soldier's eyes narrowed. 'I saw your expression when you came through those trees; something was after you.'
Basalt nodded. 'I was tracking a raccoon when I saw — '
He thought about making up another lie about a bear, but decided to stay close to the truth so he didn't slip up. 'I saw another, bigger patrol of dwarves coming my way, and I panicked and ran.'
'He's lying, Sergeant Dolbin!' said a voice from behind Basalt.
'Who cares? Let's just kill the hill scum and move on!' said another.
'Yeah, we've got a lot of ground to cover tonight!'
Basalt could sense the circle drawing tighter around him.
Suddenly, someone pushed him from behind. The startled hill dwarf stumbled forward only to have the butt of some one's spear jammed into the pit of his stomach. He doubled over, unable to breathe, and another spear shaft thudded across the back of his neck. Gasping, he fell to the ground.
The ring of mountain dwarves erupted in laughter and taunts. 'Look out, farm boy, the raccoons are after youl'
'Oooh, here comes one now!' Basalt saw a shape step for ward and then felt his rib cage crack as the mountain dwarf's heavy boot crashed into him. The force of the blow rolled him over in the damp grass.
'Get him up,' growled another. 'I want to knock him down again.' Basalt's head cleared for a moment as two pairs of hands lifted him to his feet. Someone slapped his face. He looked up just in time to see a hairy fist smash into his nose. Excruciating pain exploded in his skull as he tum bled over backward, landing in a heap on his left shoulder.
The grass was cool and moist, but he also felt something warm and thick running across his ravaged face.
Basalt drew up his knees in an effort to stand, when some thing forced him back to the ground. A muddy, hobnailed boot pressed down on the back of his neck, grinding the side of his face into the earth. The night sky swam with colors before Basalt's eyes as the dwarves pelted him with kicks and hammered his back and legs with the shafts of their spears. He bit his lip to still his screams, but he could not keep from squirming as the blows only increased. And then, suddenly, they halted.
Basalt felt someone grab him by the armpit and jerk him to his feet. He looked up through the blood streaming down his throbbing face and saw that it was the first derro who had questioned him, Dolbin.
'Now that my men have taught you what happens when you wander where you're not wanted,' the sergeant said, holding fast to Basalt's arm, 'we're going to have some real fun.'
Basalt slumped against Dolbin in defeat; he hoped they would kill him quickly, for he had no strength or will to fight left.
Dolbin forced him to stand, then smiled condescendingly.
'You'll like my game — I'm going to give you a chance to get away!' Basalt perked up slightly, which was the response the derro sought. 'Good, now you're ready to listen.
'The rules are very simple,' he began. 'We let you go, and then we try to catch you again. We'll give you a one minute lead, of course, to make it sporting.'
Basalt's right eye was swollen shut, but he looked up through his good one. 'And if you catch me?' he wheezed, agonizing stabs of pain shooting through him from his bruised ribs.
The sergeant shook his head sadly and clucked his tongue. 'You really shouldn't dwell on ugly thoughts. But I will tell you what happened to a hill dwarf spy who got caught in Thorbardin just two days ago.'
Basalt's heart lurched, and he felt near to fainting from his wounds. But he forced himself to listen to Dolbin's next words.
'How shall I say it?' Dolbin tapped his chin in a mock sympathetic way. 'I've got it! He's been relieved of the bur den of being a hill dwarf!' His men hooted with laughter.
Flint's dead. Dolbin could only be speaking of Flint. The news dashed Basalt's last flickering hope and left him more numb than the pounding he'd just taken. He was distantly aware that Dolbin was addressing him.
'— won't ruin the game by giving up already, will you?
We'd make death doubly painful for a poor sport,' he warned. The derro roughly shoved Basalt through the circle of dwarven soldiers. The hill dwarf fell, struggling again to his feet while the soldiers kicked and jeered at him. Dolbin squeezed Basalt's right shoulder hard and pointed him to the edge of the clearing opposite where he'd burst in.
Go! Basalt felt his legs moving with a will of their own, and he found himself half-staggering, half-running toward the trees.
'Remember, we'll be right behind youl' Dolbin yelled, and his men broke into laughter again.
