he had heard that the massive little people were stronger, pound for pound, than humans. But as he watched their craftsmen handle and set huge stones day after day, the Cobar was awed. Time after time he watched a half-dozen dwarves-or sometimes as few as four-roll a ton of square-cut stone from side to side, working its surface with ringing tools, punching reinforcement holes in it with hammer drills, then wrestle the stone onto a sling board for other dwarves to lift from above.
They used winches and wedges, levers and slings, and all manner of other tools, in ways he had never seen such things used. And while some among them were more skilled than others at the cutting or drilling or setting of stone, he had the impression that any one of them at random could have done the job of any other.
'They work as though they were born with tools in their hands,' he remarked to Despaxas as the Tharkas Wall towered overhead, growing tier by tier.
'They almost were,' the elf said casually. 'It is the manner of dwarves. It is said that a dwarf can climb before he can walk, hew stone before he can talk, and delve before he's out of his swaddling.'
'They're an amazing people,' Tuft allowed. 'But can they use their weapons?'
'You will see soon enough,' the elf answered. 'To a dwarf, a weapon is just another tool. The only difference is in its application.'
Now, on the eleventh day of the project, as the last of the stones salvaged from Lord Kane's outpost were hauled upward to be set into place, Tuft stood back to look at the huge construct. The wall was butted into solid stone on each side of the pass, completely filling it from side to side. Stout battlements of carved stone lined its top, protecting a bastion that could be reached by ramps on the south face. The north face of the wall, facing toward Klanath, was solid, almost seamless stone. And low in its center was a single, small opening, tall and narrow, sealed by a gate that looked as solid and massive as the wall itself.
Not an impassable obstacle, the Cobar decided as he studied the wall. Determined men equipped with grapples and lines could scale its north face and get across. But with a good defense on that bastion top, the price of such an attack would be fearsome.
And it had been built in eleven days! Such a project would have taken human craftsmen half a year to complete.
With the wall in place, most of the Chosen Ones moved their camp into the pass, just behind their barricade. And now Tuft saw the builders of the wall become soldiers of Kal-Thax. Putting away their stoneworking tools, the dwarves donned exquisite steel armor and clothing of a variety of bright colors. Fine, dwarven steel weapons were unwrapped, brought out, and buckled or strapped into place. Within a day after the completion of the stone wall, the Cobar found himself surrounded by thousands of stubby, helmed warriors, most of whom looked as fierce and formidable as Derkin Hammerhand himself.
Another thing he noted then, about the dwarves. A hundred pounds or so of steel plate, helmet, slung shield, and weaponry was no burden to a sturdy dwarf. In full battle attire, each dwarf appeared as comfortable and as nimble as though he were clothed only in kilt and smock. Afoot or on horseback, the short, sturdy warriors seemed as at home in armor as though it were part of them.
Tuft was admiring the throngs around him when a cold, deep voice asked, 'What are you grinning at, human? Do you find my people funny?'
Derkin was beside him, hands on his hips, and there was no humor in his wide-set, thoughtful eyes.
'Not at all,' Tuft hastened to reply. 'Quite the opposite. I was thinking how fierce your people seem, and how colorful.'
'Then what were you grinning about?'
The Cobar paused, then pointed at a group of two or three dozen armored dwarves strolling past. 'Even fully armored, your dwarves make no racket. My people have fought the emperor's armies for years now, and our ears are an advantage. When those churls put on armor, they clank so that one can hear them a quarter mile away.'
'If you find that amusing, you'll have plenty of entertainment soon,' Derkin said, turning away. 'The drums spoke this morning. That human battalion that left Tharkas to chase your raiders has returned to Klanath. They'll be on their way here shortly.' As though in afterthought, he glanced back at the man, and now he was grinning, too. 'They're short a few men, by my sentinels' count. And they're short a lot of horses.'
It was the following morning when soldiers of the empire appeared in Tharkas Pass. Remounted and repro- visioned-and thoroughly chastened by Lord Kane himself-Commander Tulien Gart led his Third Battalion out of Klanath, heading for the outpost they had left nearly two weeks before. Above them on the peaks, muted thunders rolled, then died away, and soldiers in the ranks craned their necks, looking upward. But there was nothing there to see.
Entering the pass, the battalion strung itself out, riding at an easy pace, expecting no surprises. Two miles into the gap, though, an outrider swung his mount around and galloped back to salute his commander. 'There's something in the pass, sir. I can't tell what it is,' he reported.
Within a quarter-mile they could all see the something, and they paused, peering. 'What is that?' Tulien Gart demanded. 'First platoon, go forward and see what that thing is!'
About thirty riders spurred their mounts and trotted away up the pass. For long minutes the rest of the battalion waited, then a rider came toward them, moving fast.
Almost losing his seat as he skidded his horse to a haunch-down halt, he snapped a quick, wide-eyed salute and said, 'That thing is a wall, sir! A great big stone wall. It blocks the whole pass, and someone on top of it told us to go away and never come back.'
'Who told you that?' the commander rasped. 'Who was it on that wall?'
'I don't know, sir.' The soldier shook his head. 'The rest of the platoon went ahead for a better look, but the lieutenant sent me to report.'
'A wall!' Tulien Gart muttered. 'Now what?' Impatiently, he signaled and spurred his mount, and the entire battalion trotted forward behind him.
It was indeed a wall-a high, wide wall of solid stone, with battlements at its crest and a single, narrow door that was firmly closed. Just below the wall, the first platoon was spread out, still mounted, with shields and swords at hand. As he neared the wall, Gart could hear his lieutenant shouting, '… can't put a blasted wall in this pass without Lord Kane's orders! Who do you people think you are?'
'We know exactly who we are!' a deep, resonant voice answered from above. 'And we know who you are, too! Now go away!'
With an oath, Tulien Gart reined his mount in beside the lieutenant's and demanded, 'Who is that up there?' When the lieutenant shrugged, Gart straightened himself in his saddle and cupped his hands. 'You on the wall!' he demanded. 'Identify yourselves at once! Who are you?'
A silhouette moved above, a polished helmet glinted in the light, and a deep voice called back, 'Who's asking?'
'I am Tulien Gart!' Gart shouted. 'In command of this battalion, in service to the Lord Sakar Kane, Prince of Klanath by order of Our Illustrious Emperor Quivalin Soth the Fifth! Now, who are you, and why are you here?'
'I'm called Hammerhand!' the deep voice responded, sounding unimpressed. 'I'm here because I choose to be! This is the border of Kal-Thax, and as of now the border is closed! So go away!'
'Border of what?' Gart shouted. 'This land is the fief of Lord Kane! He owns it!'
'No, he doesn't,' the deep voice assured him casually. 'It's ours.'
From the rear of the battalion column came a muttering that traveled forward. A lieutenant turned, listened, and wheeled toward his commander. 'Sir,' he said, 'the men farther back can see better. They say those are dwarves up there.'
'That's right,' the voice from above called. 'We're dwarves. This wall marks the boundary of Kal-Thax. Kal- thax is dwarven land. It has always been ours, and it always will be. It begins right here, at this wall. Now, for the last time, turn around and go away!'
Muttering a curse, Tulien Gart shaded his eyes against the bright sky. Now there were many helmed heads visible between the stone battlements above, and he could see the bristle of weapons. Turning in his saddle, he called, 'Archers forward!'
Immediately, a company of mounted bowmen advanced at his bidding. Above, the deep voice rang out, cold and deadly. 'Be careful, Commander Gart! You are about to make a serious mistake!'
Ignoring the dwarf above, Gart commanded, 'Archers! Clear that wall!'
