thought briefly of Bertina and Glynnis, who were both persuaded over their loud objections to help supervise the young dwarves who had been sent to safety in the hills.
Tybalt gave him a casual wave, and Flint chuckled at the constable's cool and easy demeanor. It surprised him to no tice the warm feeling he got from having his family near dur ing these hours of crisis. They're a good bunch, he told himself with not a little pride.
'How soon?' Flint turned as Ruberik asked the question.
The farmer was still standing beside him atop the wall of earth.
'Close,' Flint replied. He looked at the large crossbow in his brother's hands. The weapon's hilt, of weatherbeaten oak, was smoothed by long usage. Its steel crossbar did not shine, but nevertheless tensed with unconcealed strength. It had once been their father's weapon. 'You ready?'
In answer, Ruberik raised the heavy weapon and held it firm, drawing a bead on his target in the field — a target that was not the charging derro, but instead a large clay jar in the
Theiwars' path.
'Can you see well enough?' inquired Flint, dubiously peering into the darkness. Flashes of yellow light rippled across the ground, but quickly died back to shadows. 'This seemed like a better idea in the daylight.'
'No need to worry,' grunted Ruberik, squinting in con centration. 'I did manage to learn a little of what Father thought most important — weaponry.' The farmer crouched, as immobile as a rock, and waited for his broth er's command.
'Another few seconds,' Flint said, his voice taut. He saw the target, standing motionless in the path of the charge.
The derro swept closer. 'Wait a minute… wait…'
Now, shoot!
With a sharp crack, the crossbow released its steel-headed shaft. The missile flashed into the night, then was lost in the darkness.
But in the next instant a sharply defined cloud — a billow of smoke that was so dark it showed clearly against the moderate blackness of the night — erupted from the clay jar.
'Nice shot!' shouted Flint, clapping his brother on the back. Ruberik paid no attention, already concentrating on the laborious recocking of his powerful weapon. He loaded another shaft, sweat popping from his brow as he quickly turned the powerful crank.
Flint growled, unconsciously voicing his delight, as the sludge smoke spread across the field. He saw the rank of the derro split and waver as the dwarves stumbled away from the noxious fumes. He couldn't see their reactions in the darkness, but he took savage pleasure in imagining their dis comfort. The derro swept around the growing cloud, but their advance had been temporarily interrupted.
'Ready the torches!' Flint cried as the Theiwar swept closer. 'And the sludge bombs!' Nearby, Ooz and Pooter hefted their small vials and shook them vigorously.
'Careful!' Flint warned. All we need is to have one of those pop open back here, he thought with a shudder. The battle would be over before it began.
Behind the wall, several dozen hill dwarves held burning torches. They kept the flames hot, but held them low, out of sight of the advancing derro, awaiting Flint's command to put them to use.
Ruberik finally raised his weapon, taking aim at the sec ond of the great pots. This one was much closer than his first target. With another sharp thunk, the weapon fired and the bolt shattered the jar, releasing another cloud of the noxious sludge smoke.
The derro were less than a hundred feet away. Now Flint and Ruberik could see the wrinkles in their grotesque faces, the links of their chain armor.
Flint turned to the Aghar gathered to either side of him self. 'Sludge Bombers, throw!' he cried.
'Eat sludge!' Ooz cried as he tossed his vial up and out ward. It crashed to the ground among the first rank of derro troops and broke, releasing a smaller cloud of the stinking black smoke.
With a volley of exuberant cries, the Aghar in the center of the line pitched their sloshing missiles. The jars were small and the hurlers enthusiastic. As they had practiced, each gully dwarf cocked back his arm and then flung the jar as far as he could in the general direction of the attacking derro. Some could not help but tumble forward from the momentum of their toss.
Several of the vials plopped right on the front of the earthen barrier before rolling into the ditch at the bottom, between the attackers and defenders. Most of the bottles sailed a couple of dozen feet, and some had the forward thrust to soar through the air and burst among the feet of the first rank of approaching Theiwar.
Instantly a thick, black cloud rose from the exploded ves sels. The smoke burst upward from the force of its explosive release, then it hung thickly in the air, a moist, oily blanket of vapor. Some of this smoke rolled up and over the breast work, and Flint caught a whiff of it before he could duck out of the way. Instantly he doubled over, gagging and choking.
He tripped and rolled to the bottom of the sloping wall, the
Tharkan Axe bouncing heavily against his thigh. There he lay, helplessly, retching.
'King not like sludge bomb,' Ooz said, looking sadly down from the redoubt. Some of the smoke had drifted around his boots, rising to tickle his face, but the gully dwarf merely wiped his nose and blinked a few times.
Flint crawled from the last vestiges of the mist that had seeped over the wall. He shook his head a few times to clear it, praying that the derro found the sludge bomb effects as obnoxious as he did.
Indeed, most of the smoke had spilled against the re doubt, and rolled back into the onrushing wave of the
Theiwar. It crept like a living thing along the ground, clutching at skin, pouring into boots and clothes, forcing its way into every available crevice.
Flint's reaction to a small whiff of the sludge bomb, in fact, was mild when compared to the extreme effect of the gas upon the Theiwar. The derro caught the full brunt of the oily, noxious mist. The vapor was so heavy that it spread in a cloud barely higher than the head of a tall dwarf, flowing like liquid across the battlefield.
The first rank in the center of the charging Theiwar dropped like felled pigeons. The next rank staggered and stopped as the sludge gas enveloped it; the dwarves stum bled and fell, senseless, coughing and retching.
The gas dissipated the farther it spread, and its intensity diminished. But it reduced any Theiwar luckless enough to be caught within its oily folds to paroxysms and gagging. As
Flint had intended, the noxious mist spread into a wedge in the center of the Theiwar formation. By the time the king climbed back up to the redoubt — now clear of the heavy gas — he could see that the thane's forces had been split in two by the creeping stench.
Many of the derro stopped, looking around anxiously.
Others behind them stumbled to a halt. Through the dark ness, Flint saw the neat formation of the Theiwar dissolve into a collection of surprised, confused soldiers. The charge had been effectively delayed.
'Flint — over here!' He heard Perian's urgent cry, and saw her running in his direction. He quickly raced along the wall to meet her.
'Pitrick's savants!' she said, pointing to a half-dozen der ro that had worked their way forward from the far rank.
'We're going to get hit by magic in a minute or two.'
Flint saw the savants, clearly illuminated by a nearby bonfire. Their hair seemed bleached almost to white, but it flashed red as the fire flared upward. They wore long dark robes that seemed strangely incongruous among the gleam ing black armor of their fellows.
Flint considered the savants. 'Here come the fireworks.'
'I've got an idea,' Ruberik mused. 'The torches are ready.
What do you say we wait till the derro get a little closer, and then give them something to look at?' He gestured to the oil soaked bales of straw before the breastwork. Privately, Flint hoped that the idea he had had during the calm of the after noon would prove as effective as he'd imagined, now that it was the dark of night amid the raging chaos of battle. 'That's a great idea!' Perian exclaimed, clapping Flint's brother on the back. Ruberik blushed.
'Let's hope it works,' said Flint.
'Of course it'll work,' Perian replied, her tone surpris ingly jaunty. For the first time, Flint became aware of
