With a ragged roar that almost matched their enemy's challenge in volume, the hill dwarves swarmed down and into the side of the mountain dwarf force. Flint saw Hildy, her face a mask of grim determination, race down the earth work. His brother Bernhard and his sister Fidelia were also charging with the frenzied mob, though he didn't know ex actly where they were.
'For the Great Betrayal!' howled Turq Hearthstone. The big hill dwarf flew past Flint and crushed a derro skull with his heavy iron hammer.
The charge came so quickly, and was such a stunning sur prise, that the advancing Theiwar quickly broke in confu sion. Desperately, in ones and twos and threes, the mountain dwarves met the rushing hill dwarves. A con fused melee erupted as weapons clanged against shields and dwarves cried out in the tumult.
Overhead flew the bodies of many brave, tightly bundled gully dwarves. The Agharpults were being launched with remarkably accuracy after the days of training, and the
Aghar were crashing effectively into the tight rows of
Theiwar soldiers.
Flint was surrounded by the mysterious circle of light as he led the onslaught of his kin. He wielded the Tharkan Axe with brutal force, striking to his right and his left as he waded into the Theiwar army. His blade smashed a dent into the black steel of a mountain dwarf's breastplate, felling the fighter in one blow. He parried a barrage of assailants, dropping two more with crushing blows that split their hel mets and shattered their skulls.
A derro screamed and ducked away, his eyes seared by the brightness of the blade. Others squinted and rushed for ward, faces twisted by hatred. But they had trouble facing the light, and Flint killed those that did not turn and flee.
The great din of battle rang in his ears, a constant disso nant clash of metal against metal, mixed more and more with the shrill screams and dull groans of the wounded. Flint saw a dazzling array of bristly-headed derro around him, their faces a constantly shifting pattern of cruelty, hatred, and fear.
He caught a glimpse of Fidelia, wearing an old shirt of leather armor and wielding a long pitchfork with deadly ef fect, pinning a squirming derro to the ground by driving the makeshift weapon through his stomach.
Around him he felt the weight of the hill dwarves crack ing the precision of the mountain dwarves' ranks. In the growing confusion Flint surged ever forward, dragging, as if by the force of his will, those hill dwarves who fought be side him.
He heard Tybalt's throaty roar as the constable slashed to the right and left with a huge two-handed sword. Almost unconscious of the sound, Flint, too, howled a battle cry and jumped forward to drive another Theiwar back. Flint noticed that his axe glowed as brightly as ever, and now the steel haft had begun to grow warm under his palms. The blood of dead mountain dwarves darkened the blade.
He came upon Garf, one of the Agharpult missiles, sitting on top of an unconscious mountain dwarf and rubbing his head.
'Hard shirt!' complained the Aghar. He thumped the metal breastplate of the warrior to show where he had landed after being fired from his weapon.
'Hard head!' Flint pointed out, patting the courageous gully dwarf on the back and indicating the fallen Theiwar.
Suddenly Garf's eyes widened in surprise. 'No!' Flint cried, seeing the bloody tip of a sword emerge from the
Aghar's chest. Stabbed from behind, Garf fell and Flint stared into the wide, maddened eyes of the sneering derro who had slain him.
Those eyes widened farther as Flint leaped forward, driv ing the still-glowing axe through the mountain dwarf's fore head. The enemy fell across the body of his small victim, and Flint blinked back tears of anguish and anger.
Then a mountain dwarf surged at him, and Flint barely had time to parry the blow. He left Garf's body as he slashed and then backed away, thrown off-balance by the savagery of the axe-wielding Theiwar's assault.
He heard Hildy cry out beside him, but he couldn't break away from the aggressive derro. A small handaxe flew past
Flint's head, embedding itself into the derro's skull. A hill dwarf suddenly stood beside Flint, and he turned to nod his thanks at his brother Bernhard. He turned to help Hildy, only to see that she had dropped her opponent with a sharp stab of her sword.
But the derro pressed all around, and he felt himself back ing up to keep from being surrounded. Bernhard and Hildy fought beside him, desperately holding the renewed derro attack at bay. From somewhere, a swordblade bit into Flint's forearm, and he shouted in pain. Two more derro lunged, their faces twisted by cruel grins.
Before Flint could raise his axe, another form stepped be tween them. He saw Bernhard drop one mountain dwarf with a sharp blow to the neck, but then his brother's weapon stuck in the armor plate of his victim. Desperately Bernhard struggled to pull the axeblade free, but the other derro was too quick.
Flint stared in horror as Theiwar steel sliced into his brother's throat. Blood — more blood than Flint could have imagined — spilled down Bernhard's chest. The hill dwarf spun, giving Flint a look of uncomprehending surprise, and then he slumped to the ground.
'Bastard!' growled Hildy, lunging at the still-grinning derro. The mountain dwarf raised his blade, deflecting her attack, but he could not guard against two at once. Flint, his whole body trembling with rage, attacked. The Tharkan
Axe flashed, and the Theiwar's head flew from his shoulders.
Through his shock, Flint sensed a change in the tangled melee; the elite mountain dwarf fighters were recovering their equilibrium.
'Back!' ordered Flint. 'Back to the wall!'
The order was unnecessary because the defenders of Hillhome were being forced back to the breastwork through no choice of their own. Soon, as the mountain dwarves pushed their renewed attack, it was all Flint could do to pre vent their fallback from becoming a rout.
The hill dwarves desperately scrambled back up the wall and into their redoubt, but the mountain dwarves followed their advantage aggressively.
'Hold at the top!' shouted Flint, turning and bashing one more of the mountain dwarves. Once again his axe crushed metal armor, killing the foe without penetrating the rigid barrier of his steel plate. His victim tumbled back down the breastwork, knocking two of his fellows over as he fell. Flint noticed that the still-glowing Tharkan Axe was growing un comfortably warm to the touch, and the blood of his ene mies now sizzled on its blade.
Along the crest of the wall, Tybalt and other hill dwarves stopped their retreat. Gasping and panting from the exer tion of the combat, the defenders nevertheless stood firm.
The Theiwar, exhausted from their long charge, still dis organized by the disruptive attack, suddenly fell back from the wall to catch their breath and regroup. Flint sensed the near-collapse of the hill dwarves around him and knew that the respite had come none too soon.
Then he looked over his shoulder and saw disaster.
Chapter 23
'Damn your filthy cowardiance!' Pitrick exploded at the two sergeants who stood before him.
At first, things had seemed to develop fairly well. His reg iments had formed with parade-ground precision, and their advance had proceeded with apparently irresistible momen tum. It seemed certain that the hill dwarves would be over whelmed by the first rush!
His eagerness for battle had increased with a conclusion he had gradually drawn over the preceeding day's forced en campment. He had brooded and cursed and schemed, still tormented by Perian's existence, out of his reach. But the more he thought, the more he believed that she would be here, in Hillhome, once again within his
