toward the catwalks above the great, hollow chamber of the Tharkadan Wall.
With Gretchan gone, Garn suddenly felt his legs freed. He didn’t know what he should do, though; he was eager to join the pursuit but knew he’d better get his company in position to defend the fortress against attack. Damn the witch! Damn the hill dwarves; surely it was part of their conspiracy! And damn Tarn Bellowgranite, standing there with a dull look on his face, for being too old and foolish and for having left them vulnerable to attack!
Even as the last of the pursuers disappeared, another scout ran into the room with a report from the wall. He addressed Tarn breathlessly, his eyes darting looks at a clearly glowering Garn. Neidar were advancing at a run, the scout said, and had approached to within a mile of the gates. The man had just finished his report when Mason Axeblade, the garrison commander, raced in, also looking for Tarn Bellowgranite.
“What are your orders, my thane?” Axeblade asked.
“Which way are they coming from?” Bloodfist interjected before Tarn could reply.
“The south!” reported the scout excitedly. “They’ve come up the pass from the Plains of Dergoth.”
“It’s the dwarves of Hillhome,” the Klar captain calmly explained to the thane. His heart was pounding in fierce excitement, but he resisted the urge to thump his chest, to shout a battle cry. Instead, he stared into Tarn’s eyes. “They’ve come to seek revenge,” Bloodfist noted pointedly. He couldn’t suppress his grin as he saw Tarn looked dazed, as if he couldn’t find his tongue.
“There are thousands of them, Captain,” said the messenger, darting looks at the two dwarf leaders. “This is far more than the company of one or even five towns. It’s as if all the hill dwarves mustered under a single commander.”
“We’ve got to get the gates closed before they get here,” muttered Tarn Bellowgranite. Then he seemed to wake up, come alive. “Put every available dwarf on the capstans!”
“At once, my liege!” pledged the Daewar, Captain Axeblade.
“No, my thane! Captain Axeblade, stay a moment,” Garn Bloodfist declared in sheer delight. “It is too late. We have made one mistake; let’s not make another, fatal one. Don’t close the gates at all. The circumstances couldn’t be more advantageous!” he exulted. “We can let them into the fortress and kill them all!”
“But-how?” the thane objected. “Once they’re inside the Tharkadan Wall, they can carry the battle to the towers, fight us wherever we try to stand.”
“Not if we move fast, my liege. This is a Reorx-sent opportunity. I pray, we must take advantage of it!” Garn strode to the window, staring out over the narrow valley. The file of hill dwarves, rushing forward in a dense column, was just coming into view around a bend in the valley wall. They moved with surprising speed, and even from a mile away, the hoarse, basso rumble of their war chants could be heard. “Let them come in!”
“What do you mean?” asked Tarn, moving to the window to join his captain. “How could that be to our advantage?”
“Yes-what’s your plan, Captain?” demanded Axeblade impatiently. “Spit it out, man-there’s no time to waste!”
Garn obliged. “We allow them into the wall, through the open gate. Our force is divided in two, and each company backs up to the base of one of the towers. We hold there for as long as we can until the whole Neidar army has packed the hall. Packed, I say, like figs in a crate-just where we want them: caught and doomed.”
“You mean-we drop the trap on top of them?” asked Tarn in disbelief.
“Yes! We can lure them inside the wall then allow our own troops to make a fighting withdrawal, finally taking shelter in the bases of the towers. When only the Neidar are left in the wall, we release the trap we have long prepared. A hundred thousands of tons of rocks will fall on them, and every single one will be crushed.”
“But…” Tarn shook his head, avoiding meeting his captain’s gaze. “But so many deaths… and all the work… the trap just restored. The work would be wasted-”
“Not wasted, my thane!” insisted Garn. “This is the perfect use. We can finally wipe out our enemies with one blow! Think about it: the task just finished, the trap ready to drop. And here come the hill dwarves, right where they can destroyed.
“It can only be the will of Reorx himself!”
Gus and Kondike stood rooted to the spot, watching as Gretchan and Brandon made their escape. Gretchan had whispered good-bye to the little Aghar and told him to take care of the big, shaggy dog… and to get away as best they could, during all the ruckus.
He was momentarily distracted by the sight of dwarves running in and out of the door, cursing, shouting orders, all of them ignoring him and Kondike, fortunately.
He remembered what Gretchan had told him to do-go to Agharhome. Indeed, the memory of Berta was a powerful allure, suggesting safety and a hiding place and good, Aghar food. The deep cellars under the tower would certainly provide a refuge from all the chaos and talk of killing and war.
But he could see that the dwarf maid and the big kisser dwarf were in terrible danger, and he wouldn’t abandon his beloved goddess or-he realized with a gulp-her big kisser friend.
So with Kondike racing at his side, he turned and darted through the door where many of the dwarves had departed, chasing after Gretchan and Brandon. He stopped at the first side door, and after vigorously working the latch, he yanked it open. He didn’t know where it led but heard feet running all around him. So why not?
He found himself up on a high catwalk, teetering above the floor of the vast, hollow Tharkadan Wall. The walkway led to his right and was suspended from the ceiling by wooden supports. It swayed slightly under his weight, and it looked like a very long way down. But again, he heard feet running all around him. Gus bit his lip and took a hesitant step forward.
“Come on, Kondike!” he urged, finding his balance and setting off at a clip.
“Gus!” It was Berta, crawling out of a nearby hole above the catwalk. She dropped down onto the platform, causing it to sway again, and Gus grabbed onto the railing.
“Berta! What you do in this bluphsplunging place? Go home! Be safe,” he barked authoritatively. In truth he was as frightened for her as he was for himself, he realized.
“I no go!” she snapped, planting her fists on her hips. “I come look you. Two days I look you! Where go Highbulp Gus, I say? Now I find you here!” She rolled her eyes. “I no go!”
“Well, come with me, then,” he said in exasperation. “But don’t look down. I gotta find my friend Gretchan and her friend the big kisser. They need help!”
“Who Gretchan?” demanded the female Aghar, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, even as she obligingly jogged along beside her fellow gully dwarf. “What big kisser?”
The walkway was made of wooden boards with a railing to either side. Looking to his left, Gus spotted the big chain extending horizontally above another catwalk. Below the chain was a stone shelf, a notch in the far edge of the wall before the long drop to the floor of the hollow wall. Gus couldn’t see Gretchan and Brandon, but he sure heard a lot of footsteps and stomping around; Gus decided they must be somewhere near that chain.
“She go there probably, I think,” he said, pointing at the heavy links. He spotted a place where the chain passed through another hole in the wall, vanishing into shadowy darkness. “I go there too!” he declared. “You come? I don’t promise but maybe fun!”
“Wait! How?” Berta demanded. “You crazy doofar? You gonna fly?”
“I make big jump!” Gus boasted, sounding more confident than he really felt.
He eyed the gap, not sure if he could make the leap. He’d have to jump over to the chain then lower himself down to the catwalk so he could follow the chain into the next dark tunnel. If he didn’t catch the chain, he might take a bad fall; the catwalk or stone ledge wouldn’t be so bad, but the floor itself was a long way down. At least two feet, Gus guessed.
“I go now!” he said, perched on the edge of the walkway. “Coming or not?”
“No!” Berta screamed. “You get splattered!”
“I gotta try help Gretchan!” he insisted.
Gathering his courage, he vaulted from the catwalk, just managing to cover the distance and grab onto the chain before lowering himself to the walkway below him. “Whew!” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Berta, who had her hands over her eyes but was peeking through her fingers. “Boy, I really brave!” Removing her hands, she smiled proudly.
The entry through the hole in the wall was only about two long steps away from him, and he started toward it at a run.
