saddle, not bothering with the mounting ladder.
“Sire!” Cale’s eyes glittered with excitement as he pointed westward. “Humans coming this way. Mounted and armed, and in force. Three hundred or more! They know we’re here and are heading for us.”
“Are they hostile?” Colin beckoned, and the Ten hurried off to collect and saddle their horses.
“I’d say so,” Cale nodded. “Gran Molden crept close enough to hear some of them talking. They’ve been in a fight with dwarves, somewhere west of here. They were trying to go up into the mountains, and the dwarves attacked them. Gran says the humans know we are dwarves and are out for revenge, as though they think we’re the same ones who attacked them.”
“They don’t know one dwarf from another,” Colin rumbled, shaking his head. He had known humans who had been friends. People almost as civilized as dwarves. People he had trusted, so much that he had not wanted to believe there were enemies among them. Now, it seemed, humans were usually the enemy. “Just as we sometimes fail to distinguish one human from another,” he muttered. Despite all that had happened, he still found himself clinging to the idea that there were decent humans, humans with a sense of — he sought a word and it came to him — a sense of honor. People like the strange knight among them now.
Like Glendon Hawke. Colin turned to look for the human and found he was already on his way, long legs sprinting, curious to find out what was happening.
“Sir Knight,” Colin faced him, cross-armed, “your kin are coming to call. Where do you stand?”
“What kin? Describe them.”
Quickly, Cale Greeneye described the humans approaching beyond the near hills. “They are dark, hairy men,” he said. “They wear some armor, but it is rough-cut and tarnished. They wear ornaments in their hair and on their helms and braid their beards. Some wear leather cloaks, split at the back. They have many sorts of weapons. Their horses are small, quick, and wiry, and are painted with symbols.”
Glendon listened intently, then shook his head. “No kin of mine,” he said icily. “Not Ergothians, not even from the northern realms. They sound like Cobar. Hill people from the east. No better than Sackmen and Sandrunners, most of them. But they are ferocious fighters, and they take what they want if they can.” He glanced around at the dwarves nearby. “My guess is they want your horses, your arms, and your armor … and any other valuables you have. Cobar are notorious robbers, and you people wear fortunes on your shoulders.”
“Gran Molden says they’re angry,” Cale told him. “They’ve fought dwarves west of here.”
“They tried to enter Kal-Thax, then,” Glendon nodded.
Colin spun toward him. “You know of Kal-Thax?”
“Of course,” Glendon shrugged. “Doesn’t everybody? It’s where the dwarves live. Well, most of them, anyway.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about Kal-Thax?” Mistral Thrax rasped. “That’s the place we’re looking for!”
Glendon shrugged again. “You didn’t ask.”
“Well, we’re asking now!”
“Kal-Thax is in the Kharolis Mountains,” the knight said. “West of here. The dwarves there deny entrance to all outsiders. They are fierce and pretty primitive — except maybe the bright-colored ones. They seem fairly civilized sometimes, though they are as hostile as the rest to anybody trying to cross their borders. If the Cobar tangled with them, I can see why they’d be angry.”
“Two of those coming are different,” Cale said. “They wear full armor, like yours, and there are pennants on their lances. Crossed swords on fields of white.”
“Knights,” Glendon breathed. “And they ride with Cobar?”
“Not with them,” Cale corrected. “They are off to one side. It’s more as though they are watching them than riding with them.”
“Ah.” Glendon nodded. “I thought as much.”
Again, Colin Stonetooth asked, “Where do you stand, human? By your oath, are you with us or against us?”
“By my oath,” the knight said, “I am neither. I pledged to teach your people what I can. I have done that. There is no more that I can teach. I will take no part in your test.”
“Test?”
“The Cobar, Sire. You cannot escape them, and I think they will attack you. It will be interesting to see what you have learned from my efforts.”
“
“I will stand aside and watch,” the knight said flatly. “I have kept my bargain with you. Now will you keep yours with me?”
“What?”
“To release me from service and return my belongings to me.”
Glendon glanced westward. A haze of dust was visible, rising above the nearest hill, and on the hilltop were mounted humans, more and more of them.
“Keep your belongings,” the Hylar chieftain rasped. “You already have them back anyway. I’ll release you when I know more.”
The Cobar men came at a charge, heading for the heart of the dwarves’ camp, and were within a hundred yards when a hail of sling-stones whistled through their front ranks. The charge broke in momentary confusion, then regrouped, the marauders wheeling to continue their attack. But they were met by a solemn rank of armored dwarves mounted high on great horses. Before the men could charge again, a counter-charge bore into them, and men and horses fell before the disciplined fighting dwarves like wheat to the sickle.
Thundering through the ranks of the Cobar, wheeling and driving through again, Willen Ironmaul’s guards pressed the humans, giving them no time to regroup and no room to maneuver. In precision drill the Hylar fighters whirled and swept, this way and then that, cleaving and punishing the marauders. And at each clash, the weapons were different. Lances first, then swords, then one of the tactics that Glendon Hawke had never taught them, a swerving charge on wheeling mounts which seemed to have no riders — until they turned, and the dwarves clinging to the horses’ sides lashed out with deadly hammers and axes.
And through it all, a continuing roil of drums set the pace and called the plays.
Colin Stonetooth and the Ten were everywhere, a separate, compact fighting machine of iron hooves, edged shields, steel blades, axes, and hammers.
Upstream, at a ford on the creek, Glendon Hawke lowered his faceplate and tipped down the point of his lance. “Sirs!” he called to the two bright-armored knights across from him. “This is not a good time to cross this stream, I assure you!”
They hesitated, trying to recognize the blue-plumed figure challenging them. He was not one of them, by his dress, but his posture spoke of great skill and his manner was like their own. One of them raised a hand in careful salute. “You side with dwarves against humans, Sir Freelance?”
“I take no sides here,” Glendon called back. “And do you, Sirs, side with Cobar? Against anybody?”
“Of course not!”
“Then by your leave, Sirs, let us just watch the test … me from here, and you from over there.”
The battle was over in minutes. With splendid precision and great skill the Hylar swept the field until the only humans upright were those running away. At a trumpet call the Hylar regrouped. There were some missing, but only a few.
“Let them go.” Colin Stonetooth waved after the fleeing humans. “They can spread the word that it is best to leave Hylar alone.” He turned to glance at the stream, where Glendon Hawke still held the ford. The strange knights were turning, riding away.
Followed only by the Ten, Colin Stonetooth rode down to the stream and wheeled to face Glendon. “Why did you intervene?” he demanded.
“I did not intervene,” the knight said calmly. “And neither did anyone else. Congratulations on your test. I can teach you nothing more. Do you release me?”
Without answering, Colin Stonetooth wheeled his mount and started back to camp. “Bring that human to me at supper,” he told Jerem Longslate. “And bring the thing the steelmaster has prepared.”
*
In the evening, Glendon Hawke was brought before Colin Stonetooth, and again the entire tribe assembled. The knight looked around him at a sea of solemn, expressionless dwarves and frowned. He had expected the Hylar
