LITMIR.BIZ

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free from stain. Dirt, blood, and all other manner of contamination were refused purchase in its fabric. And the device of the golden dragon gleamed as brightly as when they had first found it. So it was also with the shield he wore in battle. Many times struck, still it was free of any scar. The dwarves were circumspect in this matter, for their race had long ago used magic in the fashioning of weapons of power. But this was something else. They would wait and see what it brought before they would judge.

      As they finished their meager meal, one of the guards on the edge of camp came into the clearing before the cave. ‘Someone comes.’

      The dwarves quickly armed themselves and stood ready. Instead of the strangely armored Tsurani soldiers, a single man dressed in the dark grey cloak and tunic of a Natalese Ranger appeared. He walked directly into the center of the clearing and announced in a voice hoarse from days running through wet forests, ‘Hail, Dolgan of the Grey Towers.’

      Dolgan stepped forward. ‘Hail, Grimsworth of Natal.’

      The rangers were serving as scouts and runners since the invaders had taken the Free City of Walinor. The man walked into the cave mouth and sat down. He was given a bowl of stew, and Dolgan asked, ‘What news?’

      ‘None good, I’m afraid,’ he said, between mouthfuls of stew. ‘The invaders hold a hard front from out of the valley, northeast toward LaMut. Walinor has been reinforced with fresh troops from their homeland and stands like a knife between the Free Cities and the Kingdom. They had thrice raided the main camp of the Kingdom’s host when I left two weeks ago, probably again since. They harry patrols from Crydee. I am to tell you that it is believed they will start a drive into your area soon.’

      Dolgan looked perplexed. ‘Why do the dukes think that? Our lookouts have seen no increase in the aliens’ activity in these parts. Every patrol they send out we attack. If anything, they seem to be leaving us alone.’

      ‘I am not sure. I heard that the magician Kulgan thinks the Tsurani seek metals from your mines, though why I do not know. In any event, this is what the dukes have said. They think there will be an assault on the mine entrances in the valley. I am to tell you that new Tsurani troops may be coming into the southern end of the valley, for there has been no new major assault in the north, only the small raids.

      ‘Now you must do what you think is best.’ So saying, he turned his full attention to the stew.

      Dolgan thought. ‘Tell me, Grimsworth, what news of the elvenfolk?’

      ‘Little. Since the aliens have invaded the southern part of the elven forests, we are cut off. The last elven runner came through over a week before I left. At last word, they had stopped the barbarians at the fords of the river Crydee where it passes through the forest.

      ‘There are also rumors of alien creatures fighting with the invaders. But as far as I know, only a few burned-out village folk have seen these creatures, so I wouldn’t place too much stock in what they say.

      ‘There is one interesting piece of news, though. It seems a patrol from Yabon made an unusually broad sweep to the edge of the Lake of the Sky. On the shore they found what was left of some Tsurani and a band of goblins raiding south from the Northlands. At least we don’t have to worry about the northern borders. Perhaps we could arrange for them to battle each other for a while and leave us alone.’

      ‘Or take up common cause against us,’ said Dolgan. ‘Still, I think that unlikely, as the goblins tend to kill first and negotiate later.’

      Grimsworth chuckled deeply. ‘It is somehow meet that these two bloody-handed folk should run across one another.’

      Dolgan nodded. He hoped Grimsworth correct, but was disquieted by the thought of the Nations of the North – as the dwarves thought of the Northlands – joining the fray.

      Grimsworth wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I will stay this night only, for if I am to pass safely through their lines, I must move quickly. They step up their patrols to the coast, cutting off Crydee for days at a time. I will spend some time there, then start the long run for the dukes’ camp.’

      ‘Will you return?’ asked Dolgan.

      The ranger smiled, his grin showing up brightly against his dark skin. ‘Perhaps, if the gods are obliging. If not I, then one of my brothers. It might be that you’ll see Long Leon, for he was sent to Elvandar and, if he is a’right, may be bound here with missives from the Lady Aglaranna. It would be good to know how the elvenfolk fare.’ Tomas’s head came up from his musing at the mention of the Elf Queen’s name.

      Dolgan puffed on his pipe and nodded. Grimsworth turned to Tomas and spoke directly to him for the first time. ‘I bring you a message from Lord Borric, Tomas.’ It had been Grimsworth who carried the first messages from the dwarves along with the news that Tomas was alive and well. Tomas had wanted to return to the Kingdom forces with Grimsworth, but the Natalese Ranger had refused to have him along, citing his need to travel fast and quietly. Grimsworth continued his message. ‘The Duke rejoices at your good fortune and your good health. But he sends grave news as well. Your friend Pug fell in the first raid into the Tsurani camp and was taken by them. Lord Borric shares your loss.’

      Tomas stood without a word and moved deep into the cave. He sat in the rear, for a few moments as still as the rock around him, then a faint trembling started in his shoulders. It grew in severity until he shook violently, teeth chattering as if from bitter cold. Then tears came unbidden to his cheeks, and he felt a hot pain rush up from his bowels to his throat, constricting his chest. Without a sound he gasped for breath, and great silent sobs shook him. As the pain grew near-unbearable, a seed of cold fury formed in the center of his being, pushing upward, displacing the hot pain of grief.

      Dolgan, Grimsworth, and the rest looked up when Tomas reentered the light of the fire. ‘Would you please tell the Duke that I thank him for thinking of me?’ he asked the ranger.

      Grimsworth nodded. ‘Yes, I will, lad. I think it would be a’right for you to make the run to Crydee, if you wish to return home. I’m sure Prince Lyam could use your sword.’

      Tomas thought. It would be good to see home again, but at the keep he would be just another apprentice, even if he did bear arms. They would let him fight if the keep was attacked, but they certainly wouldn’t let him participate in raids.

      ‘Thank you, Grimsworth, but I will remain. There is much yet to be done here, and I would be a part of it. I would ask you to give word to my mother and father that I am well enough and think of them.’ Sitting down, he added, ‘If it is my destiny to return to Crydee, I shall.’

      Grimsworth looked hard at Tomas, seemed about to speak, then noticed a slight shake of Dolgan’s head. More than any other humans in the West, the Rangers of Natal were sensitive to the ways of the elves and dwarves. Something was occurring here that Dolgan thought best left unexplored for the time being, and Grimsworth would bow before the dwarven chief’s wisdom.

      As soon as the meal was finished, guards were posted, and the rest made ready for sleep. As the fire died down, Tomas could hear the faint sounds of inhuman music and again saw the shadows dance. Before sleep claimed him, he plainly saw one figure stand apart from the rest, a tall warrior, cruel of face and powerful in countenance, dressed in a white tabard emblazoned with a golden dragon.

      Tomas stood with his back pressed against the wall of the passage. He smiled, a cruel and terrible smile. His eyes were wide, whites vivid around pale blue irises. His body was nearly rigid as he stood motionless. His fingers clenched and unclenched on the hilt of his sword of white and gold.

      Images shimmered before his eyes: tall, graceful people who rode on the backs of dragons and lived in halls deep in the earth. Music could be faintly heard in his mind’s ear, and strange tongues. The long-dead race called to him, a mighty race who had fashioned this armor, never meant for human use.

      More and more the visions came. He could keep his mind free of them most times, but when he felt the battle lust rise, as it did now, the images took on dimension, color, and sound. He would strain to hear the words. They came faintly, and he could almost understand

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