His warriors should have been reordering themselves, preparing for a new attack, but instead they seemed to be racing in all directions at once. He barely noticed that the Hylar also seemed to have been thrown into confusion by the strange events. Sputtering in helpless rage, he saw that dwarves of both clans were haplessly trying to defend themselves against the fire and shadow creatures.
A flare of brightness crackled across Darkend's field of view, searing his eyes with furious light. For a time the thane could see nothing of what was happening on shore. He felt the heat of the nearby flames and instinctively threw his arms over his head. At the same moment, a crash of thunder shook the great cavern, the echoes ringing in his ears so loudly that he could hear nothing else.
Blinking and shaking his head, Darkend tried to restore his senses. When he had done so, he saw a great, fiery dragon rising up from the water in a hissing cloud of steam. It tore free from the sea and trailed a cloud of vapor in the air behind it. The thane could see the broad wings and feel the heat of unnatural fire on his face. Against the brightness of the wyrm he vaguely saw a figure, coal black and liquidly supple, crouching between the shoulders of the massive creature. The rider was manlike in shape, apparently naked and unarmed. It raised both arms in an unmistakable gesture of exultant triumph.
A gout of water suddenly burst upward from the stern, pouring into the boat and sucking the metal hull down. Another dark dwarf tumbled against Darkend, jostling him rudely. The thane took the offending fellow by the scruff of the neck and pitched him over the side where his scream was quickly drowned by the cold, churning waters. Still clutching the gunwale of the boat, the ruler of the Daergar glared in mute terror at the chaotic onslaught that was throwing his carefully planned attack into confusion.
All around him dark dwarves shrieked in terror as the heavy craft heeled violently to the side, allowing a spill of black water to rush into the hull. In an instant the boat was filled. Just as quickly it plunged beneath the waves, carrying its crew into the depths of the Urkhan Sea.
Baker and Axel were on Level Twenty-eight inspecting the defenses that had been installed in the event of a further incursion by the Klar. Aside from the Ferrust house, the damage from the first attack already had been repaired. Baker could tell from the eyes of every dwarf he met that memories of the onslaught still lingered fresh and hurtful. As he accompanied the venerable warrior through the streets and gardens of Hybardin's highest places, he passed many clansmen who had lost family members. He found he easily could push his chronic gut-pain into the background when he considered the suffering of so many of his clan.
Bands of guards, each troop comprised of ten or twelve armed Hylar, patrolled the streets and checked vacant buildings. They moved uneasily down the lanes and streets, sending advance scouts into the darkest alleys and showing every indication of utmost vigilance. Baker was heartened to see that very few of these patrols had resorted to the characteristic dwarven garrison tactic of making sure every inn and tavern was well-defended while the rest of the city was left to take care of itself. Perhaps the suddenness and brutality of the Klar attack had provided a sobering lesson for all Hybardin.
'It seems damned solid, doesn't it?' Axel asked, lifting his eyebrows toward the ceiling that arched overhead. 'You'd never know by looking that it's honeycombed with tunnels and caves.'
Baker nodded, leaning back and seeing the vaulted roof as if for the first time. Stone arches and balustrades, excavated from the very bedrock of the mountain, formed supports where the mass of stone curved over the road. The walls of each house extended all the way to the ceiling, so that within each structure-which was typically a nest of apartments shared by dozens of dwarves-the natural ceiling of the mountain formed the upper boundary of the site.
'Nearly every house has some kind of route through the rock. And now all those secret tunnels are coming back to haunt us in a big way,' Axel groused bitterly. 'I should have thought of it, by Reorx! What kind of a warrior am I, that my mind has to wither faster than the rest of me?'
'It's not your fault,' Baker counseled. 'I could have thought of it, too-or anyone else could have, for that matter. What's important now is for us to come up with some kind of plan that offers long-term protection.'
A shout of alarm from a nearby house interrupted Baker's next question. The clash of metal against metal punctuated loud cries of fear and anger. Instantly, several of the armed patrols that were posted in the street charged toward the structure. More blows echoed from inside. Hurrying along, Baker heard the sounds of clashing swords followed by the unmistakable keening of berserk Klar.
'They're hitting us again!' growled Axel, his broadsword held in both hands and raised for combat. 'Let's get those bastards!'
More houses echoed with noise. In moments Level Twenty-eight was embroiled in battle once again. Tangles of Klar and Hylar tumbled from the buildings, taking their skirmishes into the streets. Patrols of armed Hylar quickly stormed in from all directions, responding to the alarm with swift counterattacks. Several formed a steel-edged escort around their thane.
Baker stood in the street, surrounded by guards and feeling terribly useless. A small sword dangled at his side, one of the ornaments from his audience chamber wall that he had decided he could probably carry around without cutting off his leg. Now, for the first time he drew the weapon. It felt awkward and ill-balanced in his hand.
The weapon was suddenly forgotten as his attention was drawn to a nearby wall where the rock surface seemed suddenly to shift and sag. It was moving. There was no other way to describe it. The rock melted before him, turning to thick sludge, then flowed away like cream.
And the strangeness, the darkness, the forms of chaos that emerged from that gap, were more terrifying than any onslaught of Klar.
'What do you mean 'escaped'?'
Garimeth's voice was low, but the rumbling menace in her tone was enough to whiten Karc's already pallid features.
'J-just that, my lady. He's gone! The door was still locked, but somehow your son found a way out.'
'How?'
'I don't know,' the servant's voice was shrill and filled with panic. 'By your order we put him in a room with no windows, and the door was securely bolted and locked. It was never opened, I swear!'
'Did he walk through the walls, then?' demanded the matriarch, her tone loaded with sarcasm.
'They're solid stone, lady! And the floor and ceiling as well!'
'You idiot!' screamed Garimeth. 'They can't all be solid or he wouldn't have found a way out! I should have you killed right now for your carelessness!'
Karc cringed. This was not the first time he had heard this threat, but he knew from experience that it was no mere empty phrase.
'Go back and look, you miserable wretch! Search on your hands and knees! Use that pathetic brain that Reorx gave you, or I swear it will cost you your head! And know this: if you fail to find him, your death will not come quickly.'
Before Garimeth could continue her threats, the house was rocked by an earthquake of violent and wrenching force. She screamed as she was thrown headlong on to the hard stones of her floor. Looking up, the dwarf-woman gaped in stunned silence as the rock that formed the ceiling of her house began to ooze downward. It dropped with heavy, liquid plops onto the floor, nearly crushing her before she scrambled out of the way.
Karc was not so lucky. He groaned in pain as a gelatinous mass of rock struck him on the shoulder and knocked him face first to the floor. He reached desperately toward Garimeth, his mouth working on a silent plea for help.
But the matriarch was busy scrambling away. Finally she felt a wall at her back and crouched in the corner of the large room, watching in silent horror as the hole in her ceiling expanded. In moments the liquid rock had solidified, leaving a series of drooping tendrils, like smooth stalactites, dangling down into the room. The blobs on the floor had hardened as well, and now as the servant struggled to move he was anchored by a collar of stone that had clasped his upper body in a granite embrace.
When Garimeth saw the creatures that dropped through the irregular opening, her breath caught in her throat and she shrank into the shadows. Realizing that she was pressed against a large trunk, she quickly scooted behind the obstacle. There she crouched in darkness, peering with one cautious eye around the side of her shelter. Despite her ragged breathing, she forced herself to grow calm, sensing that she could give herself away as easily by sound
