compartment as Flint had related it to him. 'We'll leave the other two here.'
'If we take all of their horses,' Hildy suggested, 'then even the wagons we leave are useless to the derro who ran away.'
'Good idea,' Basalt agreed. They identified and hitched up the two wagons that still held a great many weapons, tossing out the inferior plows on top to lighten the load.
With the eight extra draft horses following along, tied to a single line, they started back to Hillhome.
The rest of Flint's day was spent collecting the secret weapon of explosive sludge into every available glass and clay vessel in Mudhole. More than once, Flint was forced to dive and catch a jug that got knocked over, drag a smoking Aghar to the stream, or haul a frantic subject, kicking and thrashing, from the inside of the carrion crawler's carcass.
By the end of the day, his nerves and patience were com pletely worn out. Even the gully dwarves knew enough to leave him alone that night.
The next two days — all the time remaining to them — were devoted to drilling the gully dwarves in the maneuvers of war. Perian's experience in this regard was invaluable.
Unfortunately, the maneuvers and formations used by the House Guard were completely hopeless for the gully dwarves.
'Get in line,' screamed Perian. 'Get in line!' Eyeing the ragged row of Aghar with disgust, Perian stomped up to the worst offender, who was standing a full four feet in front of everyone else, and walked a slow circle around him.
She stopped in front of him and stared into his eyes.
'What's your name, citizen?'
'Spittul, 0 great and powerful Queen.'
Flint, seated at the end of the line, guffawed.
Perian glowered at him, then turned back to Spittul. 'Are you really trying to be a soldier, Spittul, or are you playing games with me?'
Spittul's eyes lit up. The queen was talking directly to him! 'Oh, yes, Queen Furryend, I want be a solder real bad!'
'And that's what you're doing, Spittul,' shouted Flint.
'Keep up the good work.' The hill dwarf roared at his joke, and roared twice as loud as the muscles in Perian's neck bulged.
Through clenched teeth, Perian ordered, 'Take two steps back and then don't move.' She turned and stomped to where Flint lay in the moss, grabbed him by the belt, and dragged him out of earshot of the troops. 'How do you ex pect me to get any kind of discipline into this rabble when you undermine my authority?' she hissed.
'It's hopeless anyway,' chuckled Flint, wiping his eyes.
'You can't drill these tunnel apes like veterans. They'll never learn. They're just not made to stand in lines.'
Perian turned around to look at the assembled group. 'So what do you suggest? We herd them into a pack and yell
'charge!' at the first opportunity? They'll fry themselves with their own sludge bombs.'
'Probably,' Flint confessed. 'I think we need some new tactics, something more suited to their ability.'
'Be my guest,' snorted Perian.
Flint strolled back past the slowly mingling knots of
Aghar. 'The problem, as I see it,' he said to them, 'is one of getting close enough to the bad guys to lob sludge bombs into them, without getting beaten up first. It's obvious we can't hope to do it as a big group. Maybe we can do it as small groups. Let's try something…
'You harrn over there,' Flint shouted, indicating a group of about ten gully dwarves who actually seemed to be pay ing attention. 'I want you to move, all together in a bunch, over to the wall and then back here again.'
With a good deal of pushing and shoving, they clomped to the wall, turned, and elbowed their way back to where they'd started.
'Very good,' declared Flint. 'Now we're going to try it again, this way.' He positioned the gully dwarves so that those in front were holding their shields in front and those behind were holding their shields overhead, forming good cover.
'OK, walk to the wall and back, and keep your shields where I put them.'
The Aghar stumbled to the wall, turned, and jostled back. By the time they reached Flint, several shields had been dropped and the rest were all askew.
'That was pathetic,' Perian announced. 'This is a dead end.'
Flint shook his head. 'I disagree. By the time they re turned they were all mixed up, but they reached the wall in pretty good order. I think that with some practice, they could do this.'
'Why bother?' Perian shot back.
'I'll show you.' Flint turned back to his test group. 'Eve rybody pick up a rock and then resume your positions.'
General mingling, pushing, rock picking, and swapping broke out until Flint countermanded his order. 'Hold it, let's try one thing at a time. Everybody pick up one rock.
'Now everybody put your shield where I showed you.
'Now everybody walk toward where the monster came into the cavern and when I say 'throw,' everybody throw their rock at the wall.' The Aghar stumbled along a weaving path toward the wall. When Flint hollered, 'Throw!' they dropped their shields and pelted the wall with rocks, then fell on the floor laughing, wrestling, and scratching.
Flint turned back toward Perian. 'Maybe the hill dwarves should flee now, before it's too late. This is hopeless.'
Perian stared at the tangled mob of Aghar on the floor.
'Nonsense! I see lots of progress. What do you call that maneuver?' she asked.
Flint sighed. 'The wedge.'
The wedge — which the Aghar quickly renamed the wedgie — the Agharpult, and general target practice made up the bulk of their drills. Perian was cheered to discover the Aghar were excellent shots with a thrown rock or sludge bomb (a skill developed by stoning rodents for food, she discovered later). The Agharpult they enjoyed, and showed a natural proficiency for distance, if not accuracy.
But the wedgie, Flint was convinced, was their real strength. By the end of their training period they could cross the Big Sky Room in a tight clump at a run, hurl their dummy sludge bombs, and run back, all without being prompted with orders every step of the way.
Still, two days was only two days.
'Why king frown every time when we do our army stuff?' asked Nomscul. 'Him look worse than old gold funger lompchuter.'
Flint only glowered at the gully dwarf shaman. Gritting his teeth, unable to watch the ludicrous marching exhibition for a moment longer, Flint called out, 'Listen up you frawls and harrns!' He clapped his hands. After much pushing, shoving, and eye poking, the gully dwarves stood in a mass, at what vaguely resembled attention.
'What you folks need is something to give your work purpose, some driving rhythm that synchronizes and unites you as an unstoppable force.' Perian giggled behind her hand, and Flint elbowed her in the ribs. He moved away to pace before them, arms linked behind his back, his eyes on the ground. 'That is why I've decided to teach you a very special, sacred, royal dwarven song.' A hush fell over the crowd of assembled Aghar.
'King?'
Flint looked up in irritation to see Nomscul waving his hand above his head.
'We know good song,' the shaman said proudly.
Nods of agreement fluttered through the crowd. Before
Flint could stop them, the gully dwarves launched into a raucous tune.
Big yellow sun,
