'When the sun rises tomorrow, it must shine upon Hill home's ruined remains.'
When they finally crested a low ridge and Hillhome lay before them, Flint and Perian anxiously looked for signs of smoke or massive destruction. To their relief, they found neither. Instead, they saw that a large earthwork had been erected along the south border of the town — right across the
Passroad, Flint noted with satisfaction.
'So that's Hillhome,' Perian breathed, picturing a young
Flint in that setting. She squeezed his hand reassuringly. 'It would appear they're expecting an army.'
Flint let his arm fall around her shoulder for a moment, pride making his eyes sparkle. 'The young harrn pulled it off. Basalt actually did it. We did it.
'Double time, you bug-eating, belching bunch of Aghar!'
Flint bellowed, using their favorite pet names, and they started down the long ridge.
At the bottom of the slope, the gully dwarves, sensing the importance of the moment, marched in the precise military formation Flint had dubbed the 'mob of chaos.' Its success could be said to be achieved when the majority of the gully dwarves were moving rather quickly in approximately the same direction.
This was easily accomplished now because the Aghar were universally fascinated by the small community before them. They climbed over each other and pushed one an other in their haste to enter Hillhome.
For all of the Aghar, this was their first experience with a hill dwarf community, or any above-ground community for that matter. As they approached Hillhome, they stared to the right and left, awestruck by the architectural marvels around them.
'What in the name of all the gods is this?' said Mayor
Holden, witnessing the gully dwarf stampede as he stood with a shovel at the outskirts of town. 'Oh, it's you, Fire forge,' he added, recognizing Flint at the lead. He cast a scornful gaze at the whooping gully dwarves. 'What are those slugs doing here, and at a time like this?'
Flint grabbed the mayor, whom he had never really liked, by the lapels. 'Nobody calls my troops slugs except me!
Show some respect to the Aghar who are willing to give up their lives protecting your town!'
'Uncle Flint!' cried Basalt from nearby, throwing down his shovel and racing toward his uncle. Flint released the mayor, who muttered some sort of apology as he skulked back to his digging.
'You really came through,' said Flint. 'I'm proud of you, pup.' He gestured at the wide earthwork, the bustling dwarves extending it to either side.
'We've gathered some weapons, too,' said Basalt, his pride obvious in his voice. 'A couple hundred, anyway — enough for half the town.'
'You mean four hundred hill dwarves are willing to fight for this old town?' Flint said, honestly surprised.
'Yup!' Basalt was clearly proud of his kinsmen, and Flint enjoyed the change in his nephew. 'And even the ones who can't fight are busy sewing leather right now. They're mak ing padded leather breastplates for as many of us as they can.'
'Excellent,' Flint pronounced. 'But what'll they do when the fighting starts?'
'We've got provisions stored in some caves, up in the hills. At first sign of the mountain dwarves, the old folks and youngsters will head out of town,' Basalt explained.
Tybalt, Ruberik, and Bertina joined them, together with an attractive young dwarf maid whom Flint recognized as
Hildy, the daughter of the town's brewer. They greeted him warmly, and even Ruberik unbent his spine — just a little, for a brief moment — to nod his respect toward his brother.
Flint, in turn, introduced them to Perian, who stood at his side. Bertina gave her a scrutinizing glance, but was satisfied enough with the mountain dwarf to give her a cheerful hello.
'What about the mountain dwarves?' asked Tybalt. 'Ba salt told us that they're on the move already. How far have they gotten?'
Flint looked to Basalt in surprise and the young harrn held up his hand, showing the steel-banded ring on his finger. 'It was easy, with this,' he explained. 'I teleported down the road until I saw 'em marching toward the shore of Stone hammer Lake. That was early last night. I was afraid they'd attack this morning, before you could get here.'
'Hey — cut that out!' At the sound of the irate voice, Flint looked around to see another young dwarf chasing a pair of
Aghar who had snatched his shovel while he rested from the rigors of excavation. 'Give that back to me, you little runts, or I'll rip yer ears off!'
Somehow, Flint wasn't surprised to find gully dwarves at the other end of the rebuke. If the Aghar were ever going to work with the hill dwarves, some ground rules had to be established.
'Limper! Wet-nose! Stop that right now!' Flint bellowed.
Each of the gully dwarves actually stopped to look at him before they went on to make insulting gestures at their pur suer with their feet.
Groaning, Flint turned back to his comrades. 'The moun tain dwarves, yes. We lost sight of them before dawn. For all
I know they could be coming around the bend of the valley in ten minutes.'
'I don't think so,' Perian disagreed. 'I'm sure they won't be moving during the day. We have till at least sunset to pre pare, but I'll be surprised if we don't see them right around then.'
'Well, that's something, anyway — a few hours,' said
Flint, pleased both at Hillhome's farsightedness and the fact that his Aghar had marched considerably faster, over rougher country, than had the dwarves of Pitrick's army.
Basalt took the arms of both Flint and Perian. 'Why are we talking in this dusty street? We'll be here by need soon enough. Let's go to Moldoon's — Turq Hearthstone is run ning it now — to discuss the details.'
Everyone agreed. Admonishing Nomscul to behave and make sure his fellow Aghar did the same, Flint and the rest set out through the village and past the brewery to the north edge of town, where Moldoon's Inn beckoned invitingly.
For a moment the dwarf almost believed that his old com panion would come to the door of his inn to greet them. The truth brought a thick lump to his throat, and he made a si lent vow to avenge Moldoon's death tenfold.
It was early afternoon, and Flint and Perian were fam ished. Turq brought them heaping plates of fresh, buttered bread and stew. The innkeeper noted their noses wrinkled in distaste.
'The bread's great, Turq, but have you something other than stew?' At the dwarf's puzzled expression, Flint held up a hand and shook his head ruefully. 'Don't ask; it's too com plicated and not worth the bother to explain. But some meat would be most welcome, if you have it.'
Turq brought two steaks back within minutes. Flint and
Perian dug in like starving dwarves, while the bulk of Flint's family looked on, waiting for them to finish. The pair ate with great relish, with much smacking of lips and licking of fingers. The steak, Flint swore, was the best food he had ever eaten. Finally, some time later, Perian pushed back her chair. 'I'm stuffed,' she admitted. 'And one of us had better check on the Aghar.' She quickly got up to go.
'Mmmph,' Flint agreed, still shoveling in the tender meat.
Only after Flint popped the last bite into his mouth did he even stop to notice where he was. Something about the inn felt different than the last time he'd been here.
'I know what's changed!' he cried, slamming his fist to the bar. 'No derro!' Flint nodded his approval. At the same time, he realized how much he missed Moldoon, and his earlier melancholy returned.
'The ones we caught are still in jail,' Basalt explained.
'Maybe we'll let 'em out after the battle.'
'Yeah,' Flint agreed, suddenly serious. The few hours of peace remaining to Hillhome could be counted in the low angle of the sun to the horizon. 'Well, I'd better check on
Perian,' he said.
The others accompanied him from the inn, and they started back toward the earthen wall defending
