downward toward the open slopes. 'Attack!' he roared.
Before the scattered, surprised soldiers of the emperor could reform to respond to the elves' attack, they found themselves hit from behind by thousands of howling, chanting dwarves pouring out of the landslide fan. Some of the soldiers responded bravely; some heard a confusion of orders and ran in circles. Some simply ran.
There were no strategies now, no planned assaults and defenses. This was open combat, with many pitched battles going on while horsemen wheeled and clashed among them. Derkin and the Ten-who were only the Six now-waded in, chopping and slashing at anything wearing the colors of Daltigoth. Behind them came the Chosen Ones, a solid wall of stubby, deadly rage, chanting to the rhythm of the drums. And on their flanks ran several hundred Hylar and Daewar, joining the chants. A milling legion of empiremen melted away before them, and Derkin found himself face-to-face with a hooded elf. 'Hail, Lawgiver,' Despaxas said, tossing back his cowl. 'The Wildrunners and the rangers are here.'
'I already noticed,' Derkin growled. 'You might have come a little earlier, though.'
'We'd have been here two days ago if Redrock Cleft had still been open for our Cobar friends.' The elf smiled, a smile that was childlike in its slyness. 'But they had to go around.'
'That's what you always wanted, wasn't it?' Derkin glared at him. 'From the very first, you've used me-and my people-to block the emperor's path to the east.'
'We all use one another.' Despaxas shrugged. 'To use and be used, by choice, is the way of friendship. It's the stuff of alliances. The alternative is domination by emperors, and slavery.'
A random arrow, with the markings of Daltigoth, whisked toward Derkin. Without seeming to take his eyes off Despaxas, the dwarf deflected the quarrel with his shield. Just beyond Despaxas, a buckskin-clad Wild-runner drew his bow and shot, returning the human fire.
All around them, the pitched battle raged.
Talon Oakbeard came then, mounted on his favorite horse and leading other mounts. Derkin's was there, its saddle already occupied. Helta Graywood eased back to make space for Derkin in the saddle, and he climbed aboard.
Derkin looked down, but Despaxas was gone. The elf had said all he had to say, apparently.
Other dwarven horse companies were mounted now, and sweeping here and there through human ranks, dwarves slashing fiercely from both sides of each saddle. Derkin picked out a promising fight and joined in.
Within an hour, the fighting had thinned and scattered. The sun was low, sinking behind distant peaks, and Derkin noticed an odd, dark cloud forming above the place where the old human compounds had stood. He worked his mount in that direction, swerving here and there to get in a hammer-blow at a scurrying soldier, then reined in abruptly. Just ahead, a big man sat silently on a black horse, staring at the dwarf with eyes that burned with hatred.
'Dreyus,' Derkin muttered. With Helta clinging behind him, and the survivors of the Ten following, he spurred his mount toward the man. But the strange, dark cloud above swirled and lowered, a dipping funnel of darkness that reached downward to engulf Dreyus. It paused only an instant, then lifted, and Dreyus was gone. It was as though he had never been there.
Yet, just at the instant of the cloud's lifting, a shadow seemed to join it-a wide-winged bat-fish shadow that seemed more to swim in the air than to fly.
'Magic,' Derkin muttered, turning away.
Then Despaxas was there again, beside him. With wide, wise eyes, the elf was staring at the place where the cloud had been. 'Yes, magic,' he said. 'Of a strange kind, but Zephyr understood it.'
'Zephyr?' Derkin cocked his head. 'Your pet shadow? Did he help do that?'
'No, Dreyus did it, but Zephyr used it to escape the verge. He has gone back to his plane.'
'I'm sorry,' Derkin said, realizing that it was true.
'Be glad for him,' Despaxas said. 'For a long time, Zephyr has sought the path back to his world. I couldn't help him, but he found one who could. It's odd, the one who freed him from the verge was the only person I've ever known of that Zephyr couldn't even see.'
Derkin was ready to fight some more, but it seemed there was no one to fight. All around, soldiers were throwing aside their banners and their heavy armor to flee in panic, while elves, dwarves and Cobar harried them on their way. Among the Cobar, Derkin thought he recognized Tuft Broadland, but the tall warrior was far off, and he couldn't tell for sure. He did see another human he recognized, though. Riding with the Cobar was the former officer of the empire, Tulien Gart.
Tap Tolec reined in beside Derkin. 'We've run out of soldiers,' he said. 'What do we do now?'
'Have the drums sound assembly,' Derkin said. 'We're going home. There's still enough daylight left to see us back to the border of Kal-Thax.'
By last light, the Chosen Ones and the Thorbardin volunteers made their way among great stacks of building blocks, to file through the almost hidden gate of Derkin's Wall. The war north of Tharkas Pass was at an end, and
Derkin Lawgiver left the elves and their allies to clean up the field. It was their land, not his.
The dwarves had gathered up all of their dead and carried them the four miles to the ancient place that a long-ago dwarf named Cale Greeneye had marked as the boundary of the dwarven lands. Tomorrow, the honored dead would be buried in their own land. For now, though, it was enough to simply build a few fires, tend wounds, and rest.
Derkin looked around him at the proud, battered people who had made him their leader and felt humble. For nearly a mile southward from their wall, they filled Tharkas Pass with their little fires, their clusters of bedding, their low, tired voices, and their snores. But they were far fewer than the bold army that had marched from this pass seasons earlier to depose Sakar Kane. For every three dwarves who had gone to war, only two had returned. Derkin found himself wondering if anything-even the fierce pride of a nation-was worth such a price.
As though reading his mood and his thoughts, Helta Graywood appeared beside him and gripped his hand with strong, warm little fingers. 'If you decide to turn around this minute and do it all again,' she said, 'they will follow you. These people are your people, Derkin Lawgiver. They love you.'
'I've never understood why,' he rumbled.
'And I suppose you never will,' she said. 'But I understand.'
Near midnight, guards came from the wall to awaken the Lawgiver. 'There are people at the gate,' they said. 'They ask to speak with you.'
'What people?' Derkin hissed, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. It was the first time in nearly a week that he had slept, and now his nap had been interrupted.
'Not dwarves,' a guard said. 'One of them is that elf, the one who was with us before. There are others with him.'
By the light of a single rising moon, Derkin made his way to the narrow gate, yawning and surly, more asleep than awake. The timber door stood open, but several dwarves were blocking it, denying entrance to those beyond. They stepped aside as Derkin approached, and two of them kindled torches. Despaxas stood just beyond the portal, with other lithe, silent figures behind him. They were all elves.
Peeved and grumpy from being awakened, Derkin glared at the elven mage. 'What do you want?' he demanded.
'We have what we wanted,' Despaxas said. 'The mountain road between the human empire and the central plains is closed. It is likely that Quivalin Soth will continue his insane attempts at conquest, but he can no longer strike swiftly or sustain a siege. For that we thank you, Derkin Lawgiver.'
'Fine,' Derkin growled. 'Then you won't mind going away and letting me sleep.'
'When your great-uncle established this boundary,' Despaxas continued, ignoring the surly dismissal, 'the agreement was between him and my mother, Eloeth. Between a dwarf and an elf.'
'So?'
'So, know that from this day forward, the land north of here is elven land. It will be called Qualinesti.'
'Fine,' Derkin growled. 'So you want me to get my building blocks off of your property, is that it?'
'I suggest you use them as building blocks should be used,' Despaxas said. 'Build a city. Here, where you have your boundary wall, in Tharkas Pass. My leader, Kith-Kanan, suggests that your people and mine consider a treaty to formalize the boundary between our lands. And if the boundary were to be a city, perhaps we could build it
