Chapter 13

 

      The sound of the beats of many wings, both large and small, broke the sound of the rushing air a a large flight of Pegasi kept pace with a mighty gold dragon, soaring between two mountain peaks, wings cutting though surpringly cool, dry air.  Bare rock flanked both sides of the formation as they flew between to towering mountain peaks, the tops of which were still covered with snow, the span between them more than wide enough to support the full formation.

      But it was what was below the flying animals that had the attention of all those who were riding upon them.  Below the flyers was a carpet, a virtual sea of milling, shimmering, undulating humanity.  The valley floor below was covered with humans wearing the red uniforms that marked them as the armies of the One, and there were thousands of them.  They looked up at the majestic Pegasi and the overwhelmingly huge gold-scaled dragon and it caused their neat and orderly marching lines to break up and degenerate into the jumbled mass that was left in the wake of the flyers.  There were other things in that mass, dark things, evil things…Demons.  They watched those Pegasi and that dragon fly over their heads, and they did not try to intervene.  They could feel what that dragon was, sense the radiance of divine power that surrounded the creature; they knew what he was, and they would not oppose him.  Beings such as he were not things that Demons of their limited power took on in small numbers.  They knew that they would stand no chance against him.  They did communicate both ahead and behind that he had passed, but they took no direct action.

      The formation banked along the curve of the valley, and a wondrous sight opened to their eyes.  The horizon came into view with another mountain range far to the north, painted in bright light by the noontime sun, with a huge, surprisingly flat expanse of terrain between to the two mountain ranges.  The southern edges of that territory was covered with thick, brilliantly green and lush hardwood forest, with more and more evergreens mixed in with them as one moved further north, until the trees ended in a large grassy plain that ascended into the foothills of the mountains to the north.  It would be an easy glide the rest of the way, much different than the hard climbing up the mountains, the endless corrections against buffeting crosswinds, and the up and downdrafts prevelant in the mountains.

      But few were looking ahead.  Most were looking down even as the armies below looked up, and they fretted.  There was no way that the hundred or so of them could stand against an army that large.  And unless the Dura had a major army at their disposal, they would not hold against it either.

      They can feel you, Tarrin, Anayi told him as she banked over to fly close to his head, using the telepathic gifts common to her kind.  In fact, the sense of you is so strong I don’t think they can feel me because of it.  I can hear them…they’re afraid of you.

      “Good,” Tarrin answered aloud, as he soared out past the two mountain peaks and saw the pass below plunge away from them.  They were flying out over the slope of the mountain, and the ground retreated from them quickly, as the road through the pass turned to follow the slope of the mountainside.  “Lorak, how far is it from the pass to the stronghold of the Dura?”

      Lorak, who was flying just ahead of Tarrin, referred to a map that he had pinned to a flat board, so he could look at it without the wind tearing it apart.  “It’s about three days on a horse.  We should get there by late afternoon.  We need to turn a little to the east,” he said, urging his mount to correct the course, referring to a compass in his other hand.  Lorak’s ability to navigate using a map and compass had been a surprise.  He would do well on any ship on the twenty seas back home.  But what was more surprising was his quick adaptation to flying on the back of the Pegasus…but then again, the Pegasus was doing most of the work.  He was just along for the ride.

      “Very good.  We’ll land in that open area between the forest and the mountains and eat, then continue on,” he commanded.

      “I see it,” Lorak answered, even as his Pegasus nosed down a little to start descending.

      “Ariana, Anayi,” he prompted, looking at the two winged females in turn.  Anayi was flying by him, Ariana out in front of Lorak.

      “Checking it out,” Ariana called, then she folded her wings slightly and started a steep descent.

      The area was safe, so the host landed, wolfed down a quick meal, and rested for a brief period before taking to the air once more.  They turned back towards the mountains to catch thermals rising in the afternoon air, then returned to the north-northeastern course.

      Tarrin passed that time with the sound of Denai’s voice in his ears.  She was grilling Dolanna, delving as far into Dolanna’s personal life as the Sorceress would allow her to go.  It sounded like she was just being chatty, but in actuality Denai was feeling her out, trying to understand the friendship that he and Dolanna shared, and trying to fathom why he afforded the small woman so much respect.  Dolanna wasn’t a warrior, was physically weaker than a Selani child, yet everyone who had seen her talk to Tarrin could tell exactly where she stood in their relationship…at the very least his equal, at the most the dominant.  The Vendari in the basket held in his paws were completely silent, but it wasn’t fear.  Vendari didn’t talk if there was nothing worth saying, that was all.  They’d already remarked about the flight, made their comments about the two Hellhounds riding with them.  That done, they passed the time in dignified silence unless answering a question or commenting upon what the Selani were talking about.  The Selani with them did talk among themselves and with the Vendari, but they seemed to sense the Vendari’s preference for silence, and kept their chatter to a reasonable level.

      Over the vast forest they flew, a forest with no roads, but there was definitely activity below.  Ariana and Anayi pointed out large concentrations of the One’s forces under the canopy, showing that the men in the pass were just the tail end of a large army marching north to crush the Dura, and Tarrin would bet that a similar army was also marching east to destroy the last of the resistance on the peninsula that brought the Pyrosian continent close to Auromar.  And once they cleared the forest, they saw the One’s armies forming up on the grassy plains, staging there while their members arrived and preparing to march north, and led by major Demons.  Tarrin saw no less than ten Glabrezu, and a large number of lesser Demons scattered among the host, the shock troops meant to blast through the Dura’s lines with their invincibility and allow the forces of the One to destroy the Dura.

      It was a grim sight.

      But now the Demons and the One knew where Tarrin was going, and now they knew that they would have to deal with him when they came for the Dura, that Tarrin’s divine might would stand between them and their prize.  That would either cause them to immediately march to try to get there before the Dura had the chance to prepare for their arrival, or wait until they had an overwhelming army that could swarm the Dura over.

      Either way, it wouldn’t matter.

      They saw no other signs of the One’s forces as they continued north, but they did see patrols of short, stocky individuals either walking on foot or riding on massive, oversized wolves.  Those were the Dura, and they universally turned and charged back towards their stronghold when they saw the dragon and the winged horses soar overhead, moving in a straight line right for their home.

      By late afternoon, they finally came within sight of the Dura’s holdings.  They didn’t have a grand fortress or a bustling city…in fact, unless one was looking for it, they’d miss the Dura completely. There were some farmlands down there, spread out in neat and orderly rows along the base of a large mountain, in a wide valley through which a river that came down from the mountains ran, nestled in the foothills at the base of that jagged mountain range.  Those were Dura farms, and in the side of the mountain itself, a road leading up to it, was nothing but a pair of massive steel doors set into the mountain itself.

      That was the city of the Dura.  They lived underground, only having the farms above ground to grow food.  All of their buildings and their society existed within the mountain itself.

      The farmers of the Dura turned to flee towards their mountain stronghold when they saw Tarrin, and there was a large force of soldiers boiling out of those open doors towards the farms, a response to his presence.  He paid them little mind for the moment, looking down to select the best place to land without destroying any farmland.

      He felt…odd.  He knew he should be excited to meet the Dura, to finally see if they were the descendents of the Dwarves of Sennadar, or knew what happened to them.  But he was not.  He felt almost nothing, only a little relief in that he would be accomplishing part of the task the Goddess had set before him.  That was all it was to him now, the completion of a task.  And the entire task would be complete when the souls of his katzh-dashi brothers and sisters were released from this world and allowed to journey beyond the bounds of this material plane, to join the Goddess in that plane of existence where she truly existed.  When that was done, his task was complete…and there would be nothing more left to do but destroy the One and deal with this Demon Lord.

      With a shudder of the earth, Tarrin landed between two neatly maintained tracts of farmland, growing cabbage on one side and turnips on the other, then set the basket down in which the Vendari, Selani, and the Hellhounds were riding.  He then backed up and laid completely down as much as he could so as not to crush the supplies trapped against his chest and belly, putting his head on the grass to allow those riding on his head to get down and to allow the men to disengage the net and free him of his burden.

      “We’re here,” Var said with quiet amusement.  “Do you wish help getting down, shaida Dolanna?” he asked as Denai lightly dropped to the ground.

      “I should be fine, Var, thank you for asking,” she replied, and he felt her carefully climbing down the side of his head, using some protruding spikes on the side of his head as hand and foot holds as she got back down to earth.

      Anayi and Ariana landed close to him, then came up to report.  “There are a large number of small stocky people running this way,” she told him as Var jumped down much as Denai did.  “I think they’re the soldiers of these people.”

      “Let them come,” he replied calmly.  “But no one raise any weapons to them.  We’re here to talk to them.  Kang,” he called.

      “Aye, I’ll get the people organized, lad,” he called back, then he started barking orders.  In short order, men were checking over their mounts as men moved to get the net off of his body, and things were quickly started getting organized.

      It certainly didn’t take the Dura long to get there.  In just minutes, a squad of about thirty of them came boiling around a hill, rushing towards them wearing heavy plate armor.  Despite all that weight, the short, stocky men moved with a confident pace that showed their strength.  They slowed down when they got within a half a longspan, then stopped when Tarrin raised his head and looked right at them, carefully moved forward to give the men room to pack the gear onto Pegasi, then sedately sat down on the ground and bowed his head slightly in a kind of greeting.  “We do not come as enemies,” he boomed, speaking in Duthak.  “We are here to deliver important news from the southlands.  Approach.”

      The shock on their faces told him two things in that instant.  First, that they spoke Duthak.  Second, that these Dwarves had to be in some way related to the long-lost Dwarves of Sennadar.  There could be no other way, because they spoke Duthak.

      They looked among themselves, then they started advancing at a cautious walk.  It took them about ten minutes to get close enough to shout back, and during that time the mounts were watered and fed and the net holding their gear had been removed from Tarrin’s belly, and those packs and bags and boxes were now being distrubuted among the Pegasi to be carried onward.  “Who ye be, and why ye be here?” one of them shouted back to the host.

      “My name is Tarrin,” he answered, hearing how the Dwarf spoke and instantly correcting some of his pronunciation.  “Among us are members of the Shadows.  Do you know the Shadows?”

      “Aye,” the same dwarf called.  “We be in contact with the Shadows.”

      “Good.  We bring important news concerning the One and his activities against the Dura.  We also come seeking sanctuary.  I don’t know if you know, but the One has destroyed the Shadows in the cities to the south.  The Shadows have come seeking a place of safety.”

      “I wouldn’t have any personal knowledge of that, ye’d have to talk to the Dain and the Elders.”  He turned and talked to one of his men, who immediately ran off towards those doors in the mountainside.  “I be asking ye to stay here while my runner sends word of yer arrival back to me officers.”

      “That’s fine with us,” Tarrin called back.  “We will wait right where we are.”  He glanced back at the others.  “I’ll warn you now, I’m going to use magic to return to my natural shape.  I only used magic to take this form to help get us here.  I wanted to warn you so you wouldn’t be surprised.”

      The dwarf laughed.  “Aye, thank ye for that,” he called back.  “What manner of beast be ye when like that?”

      “A dragon,” he replied.  “A creature not native to this world.”  Immediately, the draconic body melted into living flame, and then evaporated like mist on a sunny day, leaving behind the fire-winged Were-cat.  That form drifted lightly to the ground, then after a quick word to the others to remain where they wer, he advanced on the Dwarves.  He shivered his wings slightly then folded them behind him, and he could tell that the Dwarves were getting a bit intimidated, because he kept getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger.  When he was about twenty spans from them, he stopped, and spent a long moment just looking at them.  They were just as the ancient art described them; short, stocky beings with wide, bold features, and copious facial hair.  Every one of them had thick hair in reds or browns or blacks, one with blond hair, and thick beards that were long and well-tended.  All of them wore heavy plate armor, but the way they moved in it told him that they were both incredibly strong for their size, and they wore the armor so often it was like a second skin.  They were armed with axes and warhammers for the most part, though every single one of them had a shortsword sheathed on his belt.  They were figures right out of history, out of mythology to him, and he had waited so long for this moment, so long that the excitement he thought he hadn’t felt about this moment began to assert himself.  All those years of studying the artifacts left behind by the Dwarves, the determination to find the descendents of that noble race, it had all culminated in this moment, when he stood before the object of his long quest and realized that the Dwarves were truly not extinct.

      “I’d be askin’ how ye speak the Dwarven tongue,” the leader of the squad asked, staring wildly at the Were-cat, a creature that, too him, was probably even more fantastic than the dragon it had replaced.

      Tarrin looked at him, then chuckled ruefully.  “It took years of meticulous research,” he answered truthfully.  “Thanks for correcting some of my grammar.  I didn’t have anyone around to listen to, so I guessed at some of the pronunciation.”

      “Ye learned Dura from a book?” one of the Dwarves asked in surprise.

      “I learned Duthak from a book,” he said pointedly.

      That made the leader of the squad give him a strange look.  “Who are the Duthak?” he asked.

      “You are,” he told the Dwarf.  “Or you were, a very, very long time ago.  That’s why I’m here.  That’s why I’ve come.  Well, one of the reasons, anyway.”

      “If I might ask, what manner of creature be ye?” the squad leader asked.

      “I’m a Were-cat,” he answered.

      “I ain’t never heard of yer kind.”

      “I’d be surprised if you had, since we’re not native to Pyrosia.” He decided not to overload these Dwarves with too many shocks, so he decided to tread lightly around certain fantastic revelations.  “We come from a distant land, a place so different from here that you could call it another world entirely.  A place so distant we’ve never even heard of the One.”

      “Take us with ye,” one of the Dwarves chuckled.

      “I intend to,” he answered bluntly, which made the nine Dwarves stare at him in shock.  “That’s one of the reasons I’m here.  You, the Dura, are the descendents of the Duthak, who used to live where I came from.  I’ve been sent here by your god, Clangeddin, to ask you to return home.  But, given what’s happened recently, it’s now going to be more of a demand than a request.”

      “We ain’t never heard of no Clangeddin,” one of the Dwarves said.

      “Ye got lots of nerve to come and say that, fuzzy,” another called.

      “Men!” the squad leader snapped.  “Well, ye got guts to say that up front, fella,” he chuckled.

      “I’ve learned over the years that putting it on the table immediately stops certain arguments further down the line,” Tarrin said dryly.  “I won’t make any pretenses as to why I’m here.  I originally came here to try to convince the Dura to come home.  But now there’s a new danger stalking Pyrosia, something a thousand times worse than the One, and it’s simply not safe for you to stay here.  I’ll meet with your Elders and your Dain and I’ll tell them exactly what’s coming, then I’ll offer to take them home, to where your ancestors came from.”

      “That sounds unbelieveable,” one of the Dwarves snorted.

      “Five years ago, I would have agreed with you, back before I had these,” he said with such weariness in his voice that it made the Dwarves take notice, as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at his wings.  “While we’re waiting for your runner, I’d like to invite you to come meet the others,” he said, his voice normal once more.  “A few of them have wanted to meet you for a long time.”

      The squad leader pulled back and conferred with his men for a moment, then stepped forward.  “We’d be honored to meet yer friends,” he announced.  “We’re kinda curious about a few of them, like those scaly big ones.”

      Tarrin chuckled.  “They’re Vendari.  Just be polite and they’re very amiable.  Do you speak Penali?”

      He shook his head.  “Nay.  Only the Elders deal with the outsiders.”

      Tarrin pursed his lips.  “Then we have a problem.  I’ll have to fix it.  Would you like to learn Penali, or do you think it would be better if I taught the others Duthak?”

      “Ye can do that?” the squad leader asked.

      “I’m a magician, sir Dwarf,” Tarrin told him calmly.  “I can do both, if it pleases you.  It’s not very difficult.”

      “Well, they won’t be able to understand nobody if they can’t speak the language,” another Dwarf called aloud.

      “True.  Let me go take care of that now.  Wait here, if you please.  If someone who already speaks a langauge gets touched by this spell, it can confuse you.”

      “Aye.  Call us up when ready.”

      Tarrin returned to the others, and realized that he wouldn’t be able to get everyone within six spans of him to cast the language spell…unless he changed his size, that was.  “I’m going to teach all of you the language of the Dwarves,” he called out.  “If any of you already speak it, say so now.”

      Nobody spoke up.

      “Alright then.  Everyone gather up in front of me, and include the mounts.  And don’t be surprised when I expand my wings, I have to have everyone within six spans of me.  There are too many here to do that, so I’m going to change the rules by changing my size.”

      They milled around a second, then gathered up.  “Will this affect us?” Binter asked.  “You know we are resistant to magic.”

      Tarrin nodded.  “It’s not really an invasive spell,” he answered.  “Basicly it’s going to teach your mind a language in such a way that you won’t forget.”

      “Ah.”

      “If you have any problems, let me know afterwards,” he told the Vendari.  “I can fix it.”

      “I will.”

      After they were gathered up, Tarrin recalled the words of the spell he needed to use, then caused his wings to suddenly expand out to over twenty times their normal size, flowing out like the expansion of a summer dawn stretching its light across the eager mountains.  Those sail-sized wings gently yet swiftly enveloped the entire host, encircling them and allowing him to get past the six span restriction by placing the entire hose, Pegasi and all, within the boundaries of himself.  He then chanted the second part of the spell, because he was using his own memory to supply the language.  He chanted it over and over again, until he felt it implant itself in the minds of those within the boundaries of his wings, and then he chanted the final part of the spell, which caused the knowledge to seal itself into the minds of the recipients.

      When he was done, when he retracted his wings away, he saw the look of grave concern on the face of Dolanna.  He saw in her eyes, for the first time, that look of questioning there.  She took several steps towards him, her face sober, but Haley intercepted her, turned her aside with some question or comment or something.  She glanced back at him, her expression promising a long talk in the future, but allowed Haley to spirit her away.

      After he was done, he invited the Dura to come join them, then began introducing them to the host.  He learned that the squad leader was named Jurax, and though the Dwarf was understandably cautious, he was also curious and rather amiable.  He met with the humans and the Elara and the Selani and the Vendari and the other, more exotic races with guarded yet sincere hospitality.  The other Dwarves seemed similar to Jurax, a bit wary of the outsiders, yet sincerely curious about them.  These Dwarves weren’t openly hostile to outsiders as he thought he they might have been, given their war against the One; perhaps even the solitary Dwarves understood the need for allies against such a dangerous enemy, and though they were new, these strangers were obviously allies.  The presence of the Elara proved that much, for they were a race that the Dwarves knew, a race that was also locked in a battle with the One.  It was a bit odd to see them to Tarrin, and he felt a strange satisfaction as Jurax shook Binter’s hand; the Dwarf didn’t even come up to Binter’s thigh.

      The runner returned with three Dwarves with graying beards and hair, wearing odd triangular surcoats over their plate armor.  The had three triangles arranged in a pyarmid, with a red square in the center; it was some kind of crest or symbol with which Tarrin was unfamiliar.  Each of them carried an ornate, heavy warhammer, and shields were strapped to their backs.  Jurax rushed over to them and quickly conferred with them, then they approached Tarrin.  “Lieutenant Jurax said that ye have some critical information for the Dain,” one of them, the tallest who had a scar over his left eye, said to Tarrin.  “He also said ye have some rather wild things to say,” he added.  “But he vouches fer ye.  If’n ye’d follow us, the Dain awaits ye.”

      Tarrin nodded.  “Lead on.”

 

      The mountain fortress of the Dura was nothing like what Tarrin would have imagined.  They’d been led in through the massive doors with about two hundred Dwarven warriors discreetly guarding them, and when they passed through that vaulted passageway, it was like stepping into another world.

      The mountain in which the Dura lived was hollow.

      It was obvious that over centuries, the Dura had systematically dug out the insides of the mountain to create absolutely immense chambers, or galleries, in which the Dura had constructed their city.  And it was a city in every sense of the word, for the Dura had built buildings within the vast open space inside their mountain.  Temples, warehouses, homes, shops, they were all here, lining streets that were neatly paved with meticulously shaped, perfectly square cobblestones.  That they would pave a street which was made of bare rock boggled Tarrin’s mind for a while, but then he realized that they had paved it simply because it should be paved.  That, and cobblestones were easier to replace than a bare rock floor, as the passing of millions of shodden Dwarven feet wore away the very rock floor on which they traveled.

      The city of the Dura was split into four main galleries, each of which was half of the mountain with monstrous pillars and buttresses vaulting up from the floor to support the mountain’s peak above.  Two galleries were on the level with the doors, and two more galleries had been carved out above the first, higher up in the mountain’s peak.  The lower galleries were separated by a massive wall that ran right down the middle of the mountain, which was pierced by a single massive and heavily fortified gate.  Tarrin and his friends got to see all four galleries as they were escorted into the mountain fortress of the Dura, going through both lower galleries, and then ascending a large, gently sloping ramp that curled around the back edge of the second gallery, ascending into the third gallery above.  The top of that ramp didn’t end with a gate, but a monstrous stone block attached to chains in the wall, so huge that it would take an incredible amount of effort just to move it.  That cap would lower onto the floor of the third gallery and block the ramp, which provided an absolutely ingenious and devastatingly simple method to stop any progress past the ramp.  Any attempt to push that cap out of the way would require a herculean effort, and the smooth ramp would force that effort to be applied uphill, causing gravity itself to work in the favor of the defenders.  The buildings in the upper gallery were larger, more ornate, but the presence of fortification here was just as prevelent as it was below, and the buildings of the fourth gallery were all huge, hinting that this was where the Dwarven nobility and the most important members of their society lived.

      It was then that Tarrin understood the layout of the Dura’s city.  Each gallery was a chokepoint, and it was separated from the others by a single gate, which was much easier to defend.  He knew then that the fourth, final gallery would hold all the Dura’s most important people and objects, for it would require any invader to breach all three of the other galleries in order to reach the last.  It gave the Dura three heavily reinforced and defensible chokepoints to stop any invasion, given that an invading force managed to breach the outer door.  And getting past the cap that would block the ramp to the third gallery would take a tactical genius.  A very effective yet simple layout that provided maximum defense with minimum risk to the defenders.  Any invader would have to fight five separate wars to conquer the Dura, one for each area the Dura could defend.  And if these Dura were anything like their Duthak ancestors, any invading force would be facing an army of powerful, tough, and formidable warriors.

      Tarrin could see Kang’s approval of their design all over his face as they moved towards a huge citadel built inside the mountain, made of shining white stone.  He kept looking around and nodding, his mind working as he took in the Dura’s fortifications, and he knew that a part of Kang’s mind was already at work on how he would breach those defenses, were he assaulting this place.  Not that he ever would, but Kang was that kind of general, always thinking, always improving.

      “A question, Lord Tarrin,” Jurax asked politely.

      Tarrin chuckled.  “Just Tarrin, Lieutenant,” he answered.

      “Do only the males of your kind have wings?” he asked.  “I saw your wife and her friend over there.”

      Tarrin glanced at Mist and Kimmie, then chuckled again.  “We’re not supposed to have wings at all,” he answered honestly.  “My wings are the result of what you might call a magical accident.  As I’m sure you’ve noticed, they’re not real wings, but creations of magic.  But they’re a part of me now…and believe me, they’re more of a curse than they are a blessing,” he said in a distant, weary tone.

      “Why is that?  It seems they help you do that magic I saw you do.”

      “They do,” he admitted.  “But they’re not worth the price I had to pay for them.”

      “Ah.”  And Jurax delicately let the matter drop.

      They were led to that citadel, where their Pegasi were taken by young Dwarf men and women wearing livery with that same crest on it, and then uniformed pages guided them into the keep itself.  They walked along a grand hallway lined with detailed sculptures of male and female Dwarves, all in plate armor, all holding the same ornate double-headed battle axe.  These were statues of past Dains, he realized.

      They were brought to an antechamber, where more servants politely demanded that they surrender their weaponry, servants who spoke to them in Penali.  Everyone complied with the request, though a few weren’t exactly thrilled with that idea.  After they were all disarmed, they were brought into a huge chamber which whose walls were lined with swords, axes, hammers, shields, and crests on large tapestries, and a few of them Tarrin recognized…they were the family crests of some of the Dwarven nobles from back home.  The room was filled with Dwarves, all of them wearing either plate armor or mail shirts and all unarmed, but none of them could block Tarrin’s view of the back of the room, which held a dais and a large stone throne chiseled from the dais itself, upon which sat a Dwarf male with coal black hair, and a thick beard tied into two tails under his chin.  He wore a mail shirt instead of plate armor, with black leggings underneath them, and a large battle axe was hanging by a loop on a peg on the side of the throne’s back.

      These were, without any doubt whatsoever, the descendants of the Dwarves of Sennadar.

      The Dwarves in the room stared at them all with unabashed curiosity and suspicion.  Tarrin wasn’t the only one to receive such stares, either.  Ariana and Anayi were scrutinized, as were all the Vendari and the Selani as they filed into the back of the room, awaiting a formal announcement of their presence.  Miranda seemed to attract an inordinate amount of attention, as did his mate and Kimmie, but the humans among them, Lorak, and Haley did not, nor did Camara and Koran Tal, who, despite their height and odd copper coloring, were still humans.  Not only were these visitors not Dwarves, but they were alien races that none of the Dura had ever seen before, and they were the absolute focus of all attention in the room.

      A chamberlain rapped a stone staff on the floor sharply.  “By the will of the Dain, I present emissaries of the Shadows to bring information of the southlands,” the chamberlain boomed in a deep voice, speaking in flawless Penali.  “Lord Tarrin, leader of the complement of Shadows, asks audience with Dain Darax o’ the Dura!”

      “Step forward,” the Dain called in Penali, in a surprisingly young voice.  This Dain wasn’t long on his throne, that was for sure.

      Tarrin immediately stepped forward, as did Lorak.  They walked towards the dais, and when they got within about ten spans of it, at the edge of the Dwarves, who all stared at Tarrin in awe, they stopped.  Lorak bowed.

      Tarrin did not.

      Tarrin’s eyes were locked on this young Dwarf who was the leader of his people, studying him with eyes that could see more than just what was on the outside.  He was young, but he was also wise and cautious.  He had the spirit of a true leader, and would not rush to judgement.  This was a leader that Tarrin felt would listen. He may not act in the way that Tarrin would prefer, but he would listen to what he had to say, he would give his words weight and ponder them.  That would be enough, at least for now.

      Just as Dwarven voices began to mutter in accusing tones at Tarrin’s lack of respect, the Were-cat bent at the waist and put a fist over his heart, then bowed to the Dain ever so slightly.

      “Do you want to start, Lorak?” Tarrin asked.

      “I think you’d better.  I’ll just confirm what you say,” the Elara replied.  “You’ll have better luck getting them to believe us.”

      Tarrin nodded, then turned to look at the Dain, who was now sitting up on his throne attentatively.  “What news do you bring from the southern lands, agents of the Shadows?” he asked.

      “The Shadows are gone,” Tarrin stated flatly, immediately getting that out of the way, which caused a collective gasp through the hall.  “I’m sure you got some fractured communications from them before the end.”

      The Dain frowned.  “As a matter of fact, we did,” he admitted.  “Just a few quick messages stating that the Shadows were moving towards us, seeking a place to regroup.”

      “Forget it.  They’ll never get here,” Tarrin told him.  “Which brings us to the news that matters.”  He shivered his wings, slashing his tail back and forth a few times before continuing, then fixed the Dain with a cold, piercing stare.  “Right now, the One’s armies are marching through the mountain passes, and they’re coming to destroy you, Dain.  We counted at least fifty thousand men, and more are marching north from the lands of the One.”

      The Dain waved his hand dismissively.  “We’ve crushed bigger armies than that the One’s thrown at us,” he told them.  “I can put a hundred thousand men on the field, Master Tarrin.  They’ve yet to reach the mountain gate.”

      “I can see now that you’re feeling contentious, Dain, so let me get to the point,” Tarrin stated bluntly, which made the Dain scowl somewhat at him.  “The One has summoned a Demon Lord into this world.  Do you know what a Demon Lord is, Dain?”

      That caused some nervous whispers to ripple through the hall.  “I seem to recall some schooling on the subject,” he answered.  “The nobles of Demons, if I remember.”

      “That’s putting it very, very mildly,” Tarrin snorted.  “Demon Lords can summon every Demon that they command at any time.  That means that right now, there’s an army of hundreds of thousands of Demons to the south.  As soon as that Demon Lord gets them organized and he destroys the One, he’s going to unleash them upon this world.  When that happens, everything and everyone, even the Dura, will be destroyed.”

      That caused a sudden firestorm of yelling and shouting, mostly curses and statements of incredulity aimed at Tarrin.  The Dain gave him a cold stare, but could not meet the gaze of the Were-cat for long enough to look very intimidating.  “Brash words,” Darax growled at him.  “Be it humans or Demons, my armies can hold the Iron Mountain against any challenge.  And what makes you think that this Demon can destroy the One?”

      Tarrin glanced at one of the Dwarves close to him, sneering at him that he was a gutless pig for insulting the Dura, but a single flat stare cowed the mail-clad Dwarf immediately.

      “Dear one, I think you take the wrong tack,” Dolanna said quickly, stepping forward.  “Please excuse my interruption, Dain Darax, but my large companion tends to speak of conclusion without suitably explaining the conditions.”  She put a hand on Tarrin’s side, and the Were-cat nodded his head to her and stepped back.  “My companion does speak the truth, Dain Darax.  The One, in an act of desperation, has summoned forth a Demon Lord in hopes that the creature can help protect him while he recovers from a battle against an opposing force, who very nearly destroyed him.  What he does not understand is that this creature, this Demon Lord, is even stronger than he is, and its only objective now that it has been brought into the mortal world is to destroy all that stands and conquer this world, to add it to the material planes held by the Demons.  It will pretend to cooperate with the One until it is strong enough to destroy him, and then it will unleash its Demonic horde upon the world with the intent of destroying absolutely everything that lives, even down to the last insect.

      “I fear that there is nothing in this world that can oppose the might of a Demon Lord except for a god,” she told him gravely.  “And because of the One’s crusade to destroy all who oppose him and eradicate all that is not human, there is no god left in this world with the strength to defeat the Demon Lord that the One has so recklessly brought into being.  Unfortunately, right now the success of the Demon Lord in his mission is all but assured.  No one on Pyrosia can stand up to him, and he and his Demons will sweep forth from the ruins of Pyros and devastate the land.”

      She sighed.  “Dain Darax, we have come to warn you of this gravest of threats, and to offer to you a means of escape from this fate.  Among us are accomplished users of magic who can effect a way to transport your entire population to a place of safety.  This offer we bring to you, as we shall also present to the Elara and any humans who seek to flee from this doomed world.  Believe my words or discount them, but know that we are deadly serious about this, and in seven days’ time, we shall flee this world ourselves.  When we are gone, any chance of escape from the Demon Lord once he destroys the One shall not be possible.  Those left behind shall inevitably be doomed.”

      “Ye are right, my Lady,” the Dain said after a long moment of contemplation, which passed as the Dwarves in the hall whispered furiously to one another.  “Yer winged friend does tend to skip the details.  Now I understand your reasoning a bit better, but I still see no danger here to me people.  No force can penetrate the Iron Mountain.  We will simply bar the doors and seal them and wait for the Demons to leave.  I appreciate how serious ye think the threat of this Demon Lord is, but I don’t see how it can be any more dangerous than the One.  The power of Dumathoin protects the Iron Mountain.  So long as our god protects us, we’re all but untouchable within the safety of the Iron Mountain.”  He looked to Lorak.  “Have the Elara yet heard of this?”

      Lorak shook his head.  “I’ve not had the time to warn them, your Majesty,” he answered.  “That’s one of the things we intend to do here.  I can’t speak for my King, but I personally do not wish to leave.  Even if it means my death, I would stand and fight against the approaching darkness.”

      “Honorable,” Binter murmured.

      “Quite,” Var agreed with a nod.

      “You’re being stubborn, Darax,” Tarrin snorted, crossing his arms.

      “Dear one—“ Dolanna began, but Tarrin held up a single finger to quiet her, raised from the crook of his elbow.

      “You shall address the Dain as ‘Dain’ or ‘your Majesty,” the Chamberlain said in a scandalized tone.

      “Why?  I see nothing before me that warrants that kind of respect,” Tarrin stated with narrowed eyes.

      That caused a firestorm of shouting and curses levelled at Tarrin, and the Dain’s strong-boned faced flushed red.  “I could have you executed for that,” he warned with a hiss.

      “You could certainly try,” Tarrin returned, taking two steps forward.

      “Dear one, this is not the time—“ Dolanna urged in a strong voice, but she fell silent when he shot her a withering stare over his shoulder.

      “You have no idea who you are, or how you came to be here, do you?” Tarrin snapped at the Dain.  “Don’t you keep records?  Don’t you know where you came from?  If you did, you certainly wouldn’t blow us off so quickly.  Tell me, Dain Darax, where did the Dura come from?”

      “What kind of senseless question is that?” he demanded.

      “It’s not senseless at all if you know the answer,” Tarrin growled as Dolanna’s eyes lit up, and both Kimmie and Miranda smiled and started nodding emphatically.  They knew exactly where here was going to go.  “Clan Argak.  Clan Mizkun.  Clan Vorxin.  Clan Uthen,” Tarrin began, pointing at the tapestries on the wall and reciting the names those crests represented.  “Clan Twinaxe.  Clan Thorm.  Clan Bloodblade.  All of them ancient bloodlines that stretch back into the mists of antiquity.  Do you know where they came from?  Do you know why every single one carries the triangle in the center of its crest?”

      “I am not a sage of ancient lore,” Dain Darax said quickly.

      “You should be,” Tarrin told him bluntly.  “If you knew where you came from and how you got here, you’d be ordering the immediate evacuation of your Iron Mountain.”

      “Prepostrous,” he said hotly.

      “Is it?  Do you want to know where you came from, Dain Darax of the Stoneaxe Clan?” he asked, switching to Duthak, which made Darax gasp and stare at him in shock.  “Do you want to know how the Dura ended up in the Iron Mountain?  Do you want to know why—“ he said, reaching behind his back—“there’s an imitation of this hanging on a peg from your throne?”

      Tarrin pulled forth the Axe of the Dwarven King from the elsewhere, shining in the lights of the torches hanging from the walls, and he tossed it onto the dais of the Dain of the Dura contemptuously.  It made a sweet, chiming clang as it bounced off the stone, then slid to a stop literally at the feet of the Dain.

      Dain Darax stared at the axe in curiosity, and then, when he looked closer at it, the disbelief started to register in his eyes.

      “That’s right.  It’s the axe of the Dains.  The orginal.  Now ask me how I got it.  Ask me how I speak Duthak.  Ask me where I come from.  And after I give you those answers, look into my eyes and tell me you believe the Dura will be safe within the Iron Mountain.”

      “Holy Dumathoin, it’s real,” one of the Dain’s advisors said reverently after he rushed over and inspected the weapon.  “It’s a mirror image of the Axe of the Dains!”

      “How did you come to possess this, this, this imitation of the axe of the Dains, creature?” Darax demanded in an outraged tone.

      “Yours is the imitation,” he said scathingly.  “This is the original.  Your ancestors simply made a copy of it when you settled here, because this one was lost to you.”

      “I find that hard to believe.  This axe was said to have come to us from Dumathoin himself, a gift laying on the slopes of the Iron Mountain when our ancestors first arrived from our long journey from a distant land, seeking out the song of the stone that drew them to the Iron Mountain.”

      “So you only know a little of the truth,” Tarrin told him, drawing himself up.  “Very well.  I think it’s time for a history lesson.”

      “Carefully, dear one,” Dolanna warned.

      “I’ll be gentle, Dolanna,” Tarrin assured her with a nod.  “Darax, the Dura were originally called the Duthak,” he began.  “Your people came here from my homeland, Sennadar, fleeing exactly what is about to happen here.  You left your homeland over five thousand years ago, and over the march of time, you’ve forgotten where you come from.  Well, I’m here to offer to take you home, to where you began.”

      “Impossible.  The stone of the Iron Mountain forms the bones within us.  We are as much a part of the mountain as the stone under my feet,” he said flintily.

      “Really?” Tarrin asked archly.  “Then how do I know so much about you?”

      “Magic,” he replied.  “Judging from those magical constructs stuck to your back, I’d be marking you as a powerful magician.  Or maybe a Demon, or an agent of a god like the One.  Any one of those could easily use magic to learn those things.  After all, they’re a simple matter of recorded history.”

      “Fine, then,” Tarrin said.  “Do your ancient writings mention the katzh-dashi?”

      That made Darax’s black eyebrow raise.  “The Damned?  Aye, there’s writings about them.  They betrayed the Dura after we came to the Iron Mountain, after the Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain found their hearts impure and commanded us to cast them out.  They tried to turn us away from our god, so we exiled them from us.”

      Tarrin frowned deeply.  “The Duthak turned on the Sorcerers?” he asked in surprise.  “After they brought you to this world, saved your race from extinction?”

      “The Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain doesn’t tolerate blasphemy,” Darax said arrogantly.  “The Damned tried to draw us away from our god.  We did only what needed to be done with heretics.”

      Tarrin’s eyes narrowed.  “Dumathoin, eh?  I can sense him within the bounds of this hall.  He’s afraid to come any closer to me,” he said absently.  “Right now he’s beggin me not to lose my temper and take your head off in a bout of pique.  Usually I try to keep myself from killing the ruler of a group of people I’ve journeyed halfway across the world to visit, but I have to admit, your attitude is making me sorely tempted.”

      “My attitude?” Darax said in surprise.

      “Any mortal who dares to believe he knows the mind of his god is just begging for some remedial education,” Tarrin said flatly.  “Not to mention your god is getting annoyed with your lack of an open mind.  He thinks you’re going out of your way not to allow yourself to consider the possibility that what I’m saying might be true.”

      “And what of ye?  Pretending to hear the song of stone, pretending to hear the voice of Dumathoin?” he retorted.  “Where is that promised punishment?  It would surely come to ye first!”

      Tarrin didn’t listen to him, for his mind was distracted by a different voice, one that Darax could not hear.  “I, see,” he said.  “Dumathoin admits that he caused you to split from the katzh-dashi, but that was because they wanted to leave the mountains, and Dumathoin thought it was safer here.  Humans just weren’t meant to live underground…the katzh-dashi longed for the sunlight and the wind on their faces, and left the Iron Mountain in search of a distant place, away from the One, that they could call their own.  He also says that the parting was amicable, that you and the Sorcerers kept in communication until the One destroyed their colony on Auromar.  It turns out Dumathoin had been right about that, I guess.  After all, they’re all dead, and you’re still alive.”

      “Charlatan!” Darax snapped as an angry wave of muttering passed through the hall.  “Blasphemer!”

      “I don’t worship your god, so it can’t be blasphemy,” Tarrin snorted dismissively.  “Heresy maybe, but not blashphemy.  If you’re going to call me names, at least get it right.”

      Darax spluttered incoherently, then stiffened and stood up, almost stepping on the axe.  “I won’t tolerate any more of this blasphemy!  Guards, take this, thing, into custody immediately!”

      “No!” one of the Dwarves standing to the side of the dais said quickly.  “No, me Dain!  The Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain wishes ye to hear this one out!  I hear his voice singin’ through the stone!”

      “Are ye sure, High Augur?”

      “I’m positive, yer Majesty,” he answered.  “Holy Dumathoin’s voice tells me that yon creature has something important to say, something that ye must hear.”

      “There, if you won’t listen to me, listen to Dumathoin,” Tarrin told him flatly, seeing the play of disbelief on the Dain’s face, which quickly became dubious speculation.  “Dumathoin knows what’s coming.  All the gods do.  None of them would allow any of their followers to ignore me, not over something like this.  Isn’t that right, High Augur?” he asked, looking at the Dwarf.

      The gray-clad Dwarf closed his eyes and almost seemed to rock back and forth for a moment, then he opened his eyes again and nodded vigorously, his face ashen.

      “I, I bow to the word of Dumathoin, then,” the Dain said hesitantly.  “Very well, creature.  Say what ye must say to me, so I might hear these words and understand why they’re so important.”

      Tarrin paused briefly to look at Darax, at the aura surrounding him, and found it more receptive to listening.  So he began.  “We had a war on Sennadar over five thousand years ago, called the Blood War.  It happened when a god summoned a Demon Lord into our world.  That Demon Lord and his horde of Demon servants very nearly destroyed the entire world before all the peoples of the world rose up to defend the land, including the Duthak, the ancestors of the Dura.  During the course of that war, the Duthak were almost entirely destroyed.  We thought they were killed to the last man, woman, and child until we discovered that a small group of Duthak had managed to flee to this place, to Pyrosia, in the company of a small group of katzh-dashi who had accompanied them to protect them.  You, Darax, and all of you here, and the long-lost descendents of the Duthak, lost for over five thousand years.

      “And that is originally why I came here.  I have been sent here by the god you once worshipped, Clangeddin, to find you and to offer you a chance to return to the lands of your ancestors.  But now things are different.  The One has summoned a Demon Lord to this world, and now it’s all happening again.  There’s going to be another Blood War, another war that could eradicate all life on this world, and I will not allow you to simply close up your doors and believe in blissful ignorance that a few hundred spans of solid rock is going to stop the Demons.  They found all the cities of the Duthak on Sennadar, some longspans under the ground, and they totally destroyed them.  Your ancestors sacrificed everything to defend Sennadar, to give you, their last descendants, a chance to flee to Pyrosia and keep the race of the Duthak alive.  You won’t close your eyes to that threat now and refuse to see the obvious.  It dishonors you, and it stains the memory of the great sacrifice your ancestors accepted to give you the chance to live.  The Duthak literally saved Sennadar five thousand years ago at the Battle of the Line, laying down the lives of your entire race to stop the Demon horde and turn them back.  You will not sit there and believe that you’re invulnerable in this paper shell of a mountain fortress and dishonor the memory of that sacrifice by allowing your pride to cause the complete extinction of the Dwarves from the world.”

      He looked around the chamber, and saw that he had everyone’s undivided attention now.  “Now, you have a choice to make Darax, King of the Duthak.  You can hide in this mountain and cause the destruction of your people, you can accept our offer to return you to your homeland, or you can march out of this citadel and fight.  That fight would be a fruitless effort, but as Lorak said, some would rather die defending what’s theirs than simply leave it behind, and I won’t dishonor their decision no matter how much I disagree with it.  That choice is entirely yours.  Our offer will stand.  In seven days, we are leaving, and we will take with us anyone who wishes to go.  And once we are gone, those left behind must choose to either accept fate and allow the Demons to kill them, or fight them to the last breath, as your ancestors once did five thousand years ago.”

      Darax was quiet for a very long time.  “A grave warning ye bring, stranger,” he finally said.  “Is the danger so great that it might bring about the end of all?”

      Tarrin nodded simply.  “Not even an Elder God can directly confront a Demon Lord, Darax.  If they did, the battle between them would reduce this entire world to ash.  But where an Elder God could use his power through the mortals of the world and defeat the Demon Lord, as was done on Sennadar five thousand years ago, there is no Elder God on Pyrosia to do the same.  And the other gods that are present on this world simply don’t have that kind of power.  So your choices are simple, Dain Darax.  Leave with us or stay.  If you stay, you can either hide in this mountain until the Demons kill you, or fight to the death to defend it.  But if you fight, understand that you’re risking the destruction of your entire race.  The Dura are the last of the Dwarves, Darax.  If you die, then your race will be no more.  If you fight, you risk the extinction of your entire race.  If you stay behind and simply hide in this fortress, you assure it.  But if you leave with us, then you ensure that the Dwarves will live on.  I know it’s like I’m asking you to cut off your own leg, but you have to understand the risks you take if you decide not to leave Pyrosia.  In two months, most likely, there won’t be a Pyrosia left.  I can’t make that clear enough.”

      Darax simply stared at him, his face grave.  “Master Elara, do ye confirm what he says?”

      “I can’t confirm with absolute certainty, your Majesty, but I can say this.  What this man says, I believe.  I have seen too much not to take him at his word.  He believes it to be true, and I’ve seen enough with my own eyes to say that I believe it myself.  I cannot say about your origins, but his information regarding the Demon Lord, and the danger it poses, I believe completely.”

      “High Augur?” he asked, looking at the gray-clad Dwarf once more.

      “The Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain’s song is grim, me Dain.  He bids me to tell ye to believe the creature’s words.  He also bids me say to ye that the choice ye must make must be without any guidance from Dumathoin…that this is a matter of mortal concern, and it must be the heart and a mind of mortals to decide the path which ye take.  Dumathoin says that in this decision, ye will find no guidance from him.”

      Darax looked at him for a long moment, sighed, then he reached down to pick up the ancient Axe of the Dwarven King.  Tarrin gestured at the axe laying on the dais, which the advisor who was still standing beside it seemed reluctant to even touch, and it flew through the air, past the startled Dwarf, and into Tarrin’s waiting paw.  Tarrin held it out to the Dain, allowed him to look at it, then he set it again over his shoulder and sent it back into the elsewhere.  “The axe is mine, Darax,” Tarrin told him with a steady look.  “If, over the course of the next seven days, you prove worthy of it, I will give it to you.  But not before.  I won’t dishonor everything that this axe represents by giving it to someone who doesn’t deserve it.  This axe was wielded by the last of the Dwarven Kings, who used it while fighting on the streets of Mala Myrr against the Demons that were overrunning his city.  He died on those streets and laid where he had fallen for five thousand years, until I found him.  This axe,” he said, hefting it, “represents everything that the Duthak sacrificed in order to save Sennadar.  It does not belong in the hands of a man who will not fully appreciate what it is and what it represents.  When you prove you are that man, then I will gladly give to you this axe.”

      Tarrin’s steely words caused quite a few dark mutterings, but the Dain seemed strangely impressed by Tarrin’s declaration, not angry.  “Ye have brought me many things to consider,” he stated.  “I must also find a way to communicate with the Elara, to seek their wisdom to help me make me decision.  Can ye be of help to me in this, Elara?” he asked, looking at Lorak.

      “Not me personally, but we have one among us who can cast the proper spells to put you in communication with the King, your Majesty,” Lorak replied.

      “Aye, very well.  I will withdraw to consider yer warning, Lord Tarrin.  I offer ye the hospitality of the Iron Mountain until I be finished with my ponderings and have a decision to give to ye.  Master Elara, kindly make yerself immediately available to me chamberlain so we can arrange communications with yer King.”

      “As you wish, your Majesty,” Lorak said with a bow.

      “Chamberlain, find rooms for our guests, the best ye have,” Darax commanded.  “This audience is over.  Fare well all, and may the Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain bless yer hearths and forges.”

      Tarrin sighed slightly and folded his wings behind him as the Dwarves around them filed out, staring at him and the others as they passed.  Tarrin had the feeling that he’d impressed upon Darax the gravity of the situation.  He also hoped that he had said what needed to be said to help Darax make the choice that Tarrin needed him to make.

      And that choice would be to fight.  This world would fall if the Dura did not help save it.

 

      “No more evasions,” Dolanna said sharply, standing in front of the door to the chamber he shared with Mist and the children, her arms held out to block that doorway.  The room was nice enough, if not for the fact that Tarrin’s head would hit the ceiling if he stood straight up, roomy and with comfortable furniture made of stone and padded with deep, soft cushions.  Mist was with Kimmie, and the children were with her, which left Tarrin alone in the room with the book of Wizard spells that Kimmie and the other Wizards had finished, a book he had been studying intently when Dolanna came into the room, a book he had been reading over and over to understand more than just the spells written on the page, but the language of the magic, the meaning of the words.  That was also the reason he’d been taking lessons in Priest spells from Camara Tal…not to learn more spells, but to try to comprehend the language of those spells.  Niami had always told him that understanding the why of something was often more important than the what.  He knew what was coming, he knew what he’d be facing when he sought out the One and had to face that Demon Lord, and he’d need every advantage he could get.  If he could comprehend the languages of the gods and of magic, it might be the advantage that would allow him to complete his plan.  But now Dolanna was here, and from the look of her, she wasn’t going to let him get out of certain explanations now.

      And perhaps…perhaps now was the time to give them.

      He closed his book calmly and laid it on the little table in front of the chair he was occupying, in his human form to keep from banging his head on the ceiling.  “What evasions, Dolanna?” he asked mildly.

      “Do not be coy with me, dear one, I know you too well,” she snapped at him.  “What I have seen you do in the last three days says to me that there is much going on which you are trying to underplay.  I know your ways, dear one.  You have something planned, something you obviously intend to carry out by yourself, to protect the rest of us, some half-baked scheme which shall fall apart on you halfway through and cause you to carry it out by the seat of your breeches.  You will not do this to us this time.  We are here to help you, dear one.  You do not have to put us in a steel box and carry us under your arm.”

      Tarrin chuckled ruefully.  “I guess I do have a habit of doing that,” he admitted.

      “Now, you are going to explain to me several things, dear one,” she said adamantly, sitting down on that little table, directly on his book, and putting her feet on top of his in some token act of keeping him from getting up.  “The first of which is your admitting to me that you are not as injured as you would lead us to believe.”

      He nodded.  “I’m fully recovered,” he told her.  “I have been for a couple of days now.”

      “That should not be possible,” she challenged.

      “It is.  It just required me to do something I really didn’t want to do.”

      “What is that?”
      “I made a choice,” he answered.

      “I told you, no evasions,” she said in a stony tone.  “You will explain this to me now, dear one.”

      He closed his eyes and bowed his head.  “I would have thought that you’d understand that if anyone would, Dolanna,” he told her.  “My power has always been locked away from me because I refused to accept it.  The sword is a symbol of that division, at first separated from me because of how I was brought back from the dead, and then it became a willing symbol after I rejected the power it gave to me after the shadow of Val brought it out.  When we came here, it seemed to get stronger and stronger, and granting me more and more power, but actually it was just me starting to rely on power that I had never wanted to touch.  Can you understand that?”

      She was silent a long moment.  “So the choice you made—“ she raised an eyebrow at him.

      “Was admitting what I’ve become,” he told her.   “The instant I did that, the power the sword holds from me accelerated my healing.  It did in hours what would have taken rides.  My pretending to still be wounded just gives me a reason to waste time, at least for you all.  If they knew I was healed, they’d wonder why I wasn’t going after the One immediately.”

      “We will come back to that,” she told him.  “I have noticed that all of my Sorcery works here, dear one, including things that just should not work, like Transmuting objects into living things.  That requires the breath of Ayise to grant life, but she cannot reach here.  How is this possible?”

      “That power is coming through along with Sorcery,” he told her.  “In a way, my presence here is allowing the Elder Gods of our world to break the strictures set forth by the God of Gods.  They’re reaching into this world through me, and I’m reaching back into Sennadar through the sword.”

      “But you said the sword is just a part of you,” she said, switching to Sharadi.  “Doesn’t that mean that you are reaching back into Sennadar?”

      “I guess I am, but I can’t control that,” he told her.  “The sword is a part of me, but it’s separate from me.  I don’t control its power yet.”

      “When can you?  After all, you said you admitted what you are.”

      “For me to control the full power locked inside the sword, I’d have to become what I was when I fought Val,” he told her.  “The sword is simply the power I possessed then.  But I can’t become what I was, Dolanna,” he explained.  “When the Firestaff changed me, it transformed my mind along with my body.  The power in that sword is the power I possessed as a god, Dolanna.  My mortal mind can’t even comprehend that power, let alone control it.  It will remain apart from me until the day I die, because if I tried to command that power, it would destroy me.”

      “It would not destroy you, dear one,” she reasoned.  “It’s a part of you.”

      “So is Sorcery,” he retorted.  “And the ability of Sorcery to kill is well documented.”

      She was silent a moment.  “I…see,” she said, nodding.  “So, in a way, you are now an Avatar of the Elder Gods,” she reasoned.

      “Not really,” he said.  “I really don’t understand how the sword is reaching back into Sennadar to touch the Weave.  I really don’t understand it,” he frowned.  “If anything, I should be able to touch the Weave, not the sword, because Niami recreated my body when she brought me back, and she made certain, modifications,” he said with a grunt.

      “I have heard rumors,” she chuckled.  “Your ability to remain in human form—“

      He nodded.  “She did that.  I guess you can call me an Ancient Were-cat now, like we were before the Breaking.  She did some other things too.”

      “Would it offend you to tell me?” she asked with certain eagerness in her voice.

      “She increased my power in Sorcery,” he grunted.  “Probably some kind of odd need to bring me up to Jasana’s level.  No offense, Dolanna, but Niami seems to favor me over most other Sorcerers.  I think it offended her sensibilities that my daughter is a stronger Sorcerer than I am, so she cheated.  I’ve never told anyone either of those things, and you’d better keep it to yourself.”

      “Mother’s preference for you is common knowledge, dear one,” she told him.  “The entirety of the katzh-dashi knows that you are the favorite of the Goddess.  That is why the order always defers to you.  Alexis and Jenna have even given you a title.  You are the Keeper of Keepers, the one who stands at the right hand of the Goddess, the favored of the sui’kun.”

      “Nonsense,” Tarrin growled.  “She did that, and back when I was on Sennadar, I could always feel her close to me, in a way I hadn’t before.  I think she did something else to me that let her keep closer track of me.”

      “There are rumors,” she said in a sudden whisper.  “Rumors that the Goddess’ feelings for you go beyond the norm, even as a friend.  Some speculate that her love for you is much more than simply the love of a god for a follower.”

      Tarrin blinked, then he paused a moment to consider her words.  “I doubt it,” he told her.  “I know her better than most, at least as well as I can given I’m only a mortal, and parts of her personality I’ll never be able to understand.  I guess I can say that the face she presents to me never hinted at anything like that.  But,” he said, frowning.  “But what she’s doing now might prove that I’m wrong about that.”

      “How she is countering the exile?”

      He nodded.  “She shouldn’t be doing it, she’s risking getting on the bad side of the other Elder Gods over me.  I don’t think she’d do that for any other Sorcerer.  She promised me a long time ago that she’d see to it I was happy after I recovered the Firestaff and destroyed Val.  I’m sure she’s only acting like this to uphold her promise, because I’m certainly not happy here and having them exile me was never part of the deal, but even then, she shouldn’t be doing it, and she knows she shouldn’t be doing it.”  He was quiet a long moment, recalling the way her behavior towards him had changed, how she had tried to change the way he thought of her…was it simply a silly rumor, or was there something to it?  It certainly wasn’t unheard of…T’Kya, the Elder Goddess of the air and wind and weather, had fallen in love with a mortal, Dragor the Industrious, and had had a hand in his ascension to the ranks of the Younger Gods.  But no, he couldn’t believe that Niami would think of him that way.  She had fought for him before, long before he had become close to her, going to great lengths for him.  He had to believe that what she was doing now was simply her outrage at how he had been treated, not a hint of something more.  “No, I’m positive that they’re baseless.”

      “I believe so as well,” she nodded.  “Mother sees you as a son, not in that way.”

      He was quiet a long moment.  Now…now came what he had dreaded having to say.  He knew that it would come to this, because what was coming, what had to be done, it wasn’t something that he could do alone.  Now, now he would find out just how far Dolanna was willing to go.

      “Dolanna,” he began.  “You know what’s out there.  And I’m sure you know that I’ve thought up a way to deal with it.  It’s half the reason you’re here.”

      She nodded.  “As I said, we would come back to that.  I must say, what you have planned in some way must involve me if you were willing to bring it up first.”

      He chuckled.  “You know me too well, old friend,” he admitted.

      “Yes, dear one, but it’s my knowledge of you that makes us such friends,” she told him, putting her hand on his knee.  “Now, explain to me what we must do.”

      “I’m not sure I want to go through with it, Dolanna,” he said, then he sighed.  “But I can’t see any other way.  I don’t want to do it.”

      “Do what, dear one?”

      “What must be done,” he told her grimly.  “That Demon Lord being here is my responsibility, Dolanna.  I failed to kill the One when we fought, and what’s happening now is my direct responsibility.  It’s my fault.  I have to face it, to stop it before it can destroy this world.”

      “Can you do it?” she asked.

      He looked her right in the eyes.  “No one on this world can do that,” he told her.  “But I do have a kind of idea about how I can shackle the Demon Lord and hobble him, which would give the mortals a chance to kill him.  It has a good chance of succeeding, but I absolutely will only have one chance to shackle the Demon Lord.”

      “Why is that, dear one?”

      “Because it will kill me,” he told her bluntly.  “And what’s worse, it’s going to force me to sacrifice one of you.”

      “I don’t understand,” she said.

      “Demons get their power like any other magician, Dolanna,” he told her.  “They were stopped from using them in the Blood War when the Goddess used the Weave to deny them their magic.  All I have to do is what I was born to do, Dolanna.  I just need to form a Weave here large enough to bring the area around Pyros under my control, an area where the Demons can’t use their magic, then seal the borders with a Ward that will trap them inside.  If I get enough of them inside it, I can immobilize the majority of the Demon Lord’s forces at Pyros, which will give the mortals enough time to kill off those outside the Ward, then march into it and destroy the Demons inside.  If I can deny the Demon Lord his power, he can be killed just like any other Demon.”

      “But how will this kill you?  I have seen you do such things before.”

      “Even I have my limits, Dolanna,” he told her.  “What I’d be doing would have nothing to do with my divine power.  It would be nothing but pure Sorcery.  And even a sui’kun can be killed by the power of Sorcery if he reaches beyond the physical limits of his body, it would drain me to the point where my body would die from lack of energy.  I can create the Weave and make the Ward, but it will kill me in the process.”

      She was quiet a long moment.  “And you would need me within your creation,” she reasoned.  “To sustain it if you are right, and it did in fact kill you.  I would need to be there to take your place.  Even a creation such as what you’re describing would follow the same rules as the Weave at home…and the first rule is that the Weave cannot exist without Sorcerers.  If I was not there, it would unravel upon your death, evaporate like smoke.  Which would cause it to come to naught.”

      “And now you understand why it’s a last resort,” he told her.  “I have another option, that’s going to be just as deadly, but has a much slimmer chance of success.”

      “Explain, dear one.”

      “The Elder God of this world is either sleeping, or he doesn’t care, or he’s dead,” he explained.  “I can sense something of him in the All of this world, but it’s too faint to tell which it is…or if he’s actually dead.  Whichever it is, it wouldn’t really matter.  I can reach into the All of this world and use it to do the exact same thing I could do with Sorcery.  After all, nothing is impossible using Druidic magic, because it’s literally nothing but a mortal tapping into the power of the Elder God that created the universe.  I could reach into the All and make this entire universe block the magic of the Demons, but it’ll kill me.  And it would all hinge on whether or not I could get the spell off before I die.  If I do, every single Demon in this world will lose his power, and we win.  If I fail, then our last hope is gone.”

      “That would be too much a gamble, dear one,” she told him.  “The idea of trapping the Demons within a Ward is a much wiser decision.  And despite what you think, I seriously doubt that it would kill you,” she scoffed.  “Your power is such that you could affect such a large area, dear one.  After you completed it, all you would need do is wrap yourself in a Ward that stops Demons and simply remain inside your creation, and there is nothing they could do.  The only wild card is if your power can affect the Demon Lord.  After all, dear one, they do possess certain divine abilities that transcend normal magic.  Just as you can use your powers here without a Weave, this Demon Lord should be able to use his powers inside your Ward.  What we need to do is come up with some way of preventing the Demon Lord from disrupting your Ward after you’ve created it.  The first—“

      Her eyes widened, and she clutched her shaeram in her hand.  “There is a way,” she said.  “It would require us invoking the power of the Goddess through your sword, using Sorcery.  If your presence here allows our Elder Gods to reach into this world, we must call upon them to protect us from the godlike abilities of the Demon Lord.  They can reach into this world through the sword, through you, and shield us from that power.”

      “Us?”

      “Us,” she affirmed.  “You’re right, dear one, in needing me.  If you in some way fail, I must be there to take over, to prevent it from all coming apart.  But I doubt that it would come to that.  All we need to do, dear one, is create a little piece of Sennadar here on Pyrosia, where the usual rules break down, and allow our Elder Gods to reach across the dimensions and assert their power in this material plane.  And you know what the one thing is that separates Sennadar from other worlds.”

      “The Weave.”

      “The Weave,” she nodded.  “Create a new Weave, one linked back to the Goddess through the sword, and you have just shifted the very fabric of Sennadar into a different material plane.  That link will let our gods reach out and protect us so long as we remain within its boundaries.  If Sorcery is allowing them to reach into this world, all we need to do is create a Weave rather than just a spell.  Infuse a portion of this land with the power of the Weave, and we give this entire world hope against the Demon Lord.”

      “I think it just might work, Dolanna,” he said.  “The Demon Lord has the same problem against me that the One did…he can’t use his full power against me.  He can only throw what power at me that can manifest in the material world.  My soul is that of a god’s, but my mind and body are still mortal.  And that protects me from it.  And on that level, with your power, my power, and what divine power I do still possess, it gives us a good chance to hold off the Demon Lord long enough for me to finish off the One…if the Demon Lord even bothers to fight.  When he realizes that the One is what I’m after, he’ll probably just step aside and let me have him.”

      “Probably doesn’t sound very certain,” Dolanna said speculatively.

      “Since when does any of my plans not include grasping at straws?” he asked her.

      She laughed.  “Well said,” she smiled.

      “Well, what do you think?” he asked.

      “It leaves much to chance, but I can’t deny the potential of your idea, dear one,” she answered.  “If we have the chance to neutralize the threat with one well-aimed strike, we should make the attempt.”

      “You know the danger,” he told her seriously.  “You know what it will cost us.”

      “That should not concern either of us in the slightest, my dear one,” she told him.  “I have been placing my life in your hands literally since the day we met.  I trust these hands, in ways that I don’t think you will ever understand,” she told him, reaching out and taking his human hands in her own.  “I understand the danger, Tarrin.  I know the risks.  There is a very good chance that neither of us will survive it.  If you fail, it will kill you.  If what you create is too much for me, or the Demon Lord proves too much for us, then my life will be forfeit as well.  But do you know what?”

      “What?”

      “I don’t care.  I would follow you into Hell, Tarrin,” she told him, giving him a warm smile.  “If that is the risk we have to take in order to save this world, then so be it.  Two lives are more than a fair trade for the lives of every living thing on this world, if it comes to that.  At the very least, we can do so much damage that it gives the others time to escape.  But I don’t share your certainty,” she said with a wink.  “I have faith that we will prevail dear one.  I also believe that the Elder Gods will relent and allow you to return home…and we will be having tea on your front porch very soon.”

      “I pray you’re right, old friend,” he told her.

      “In a way, it only seems fitting, dear one.  Many years ago, you and I and Faalken set out on a long journey.  And though Faalken has fallen along the path, you and I remain.  If what comes truly will be the end of that path, then isn’t it only right that we face that together?” she asked gently, touching his face.

      “It seems so long ago,” he said distantly, patting the hand on his cheek.  “And I’ve changed so much.  So have you.”

      “Only what is outside has changed, my dear one,” she smiled, touching his chest, putting her hand over his heart.  “What I saw here has never changed.”

      “So, you agree to trying it?”

      “Don’t be silly,” she smiled.  “In seven days, we shall journey to Pyros.  I will be there to see you destroy the One, and together we will draw the fangs of the Demon Lord.”  She made a face.  “I do hope you have a plan for getting at the One through the Demon Lord?”

      He snorted.  “Stay away from him, keep focusing on the One, until the Demon Lord realizes that I have no interest in him,” he answered.  “Like I said, there’s a very good chance he’ll just step aside.  It does him much more good for me to destroy the One, as far as he’s concerned.  I’d just be removing the last annoying obstacle in his plan.”

      “And if he does not?”

      “Then we just fight them both,” he answered.  “And if we can’t kill the One, if the Demon Lord protects him and keeps me from getting to him, we seal them all inside the Ward, and turn to the Elder Gods to reach into this world and defend us from their power.  I’ll put the power of the ten Elder Gods against the One and the Demon Lord, even if they are reaching across the planes.”

      “Then our first step is to contact Mother and arrange things with the Elder Gods.  If they won’t help us, then this plan has no chance.”

      He nodded.  “I need to tell her to have the Elder Gods allow Phandebrass to open the gate anyway,” he told her.  “I was serious about that.  I hope that the Dain will decide to stay and fight, but I also don’t want him to commit everyone to the cause.  I’m hoping that he sends some people home.  I’m also hoping that the Elara do the same.  They have to think about protecting their races from destruction.”

      “Hold a moment, dear one.  If we can’t destroy the One, what about the souls of our brothers and sisters trapped on Auromar?”

      “Phandebrass would have to go there and open a gate to the Astral,” he answered.   “Just the way Niami originally wanted us to do it.  It would be easy for him with a Pegasus to fly him out there.  But if we can destroy the One, the souls of the katzh-dashi can escape into the Astral on their own, without any help from us at all.  All we have to do is break the One’s hold over Auromar, and we do that by destroying his icon.”

      “Yes.  Very well then, dear one, bring forth that bell that Sapphire supplied to us and call to Mother.  Let’s make sure the Elder Gods will help us first.  If they will, let us sit down and plan out what we intend to do.  Afterward, I’ll need you to share with me your knowledge of the land around Pyros, and the mountain.  We need to start planning our course of action.”

      “No time like the present,” he said, calling forth his sword from the elsewhere.

 

      The Dura—Duthak as far as he were concerned—had most definitely maintained their mannerisms that Tarrin had read about during his study of the Dwarves.  They were an industrious, serious lot with a near obsession for work, for craftsmanship, and for drink.  The Dura did play, but they played with a single-minded determination that almost made it seem like work, and their senses of humor were rather unusual.  They seemed like a dour, serious lot, but Tarrin could read into that scowling façade and see the vibrancy of the common Dura’s personality.

      One thing that Tarrin saw, that probably impressed him more than most other things, was the Dura concept of self-reliance.  There were no servants in the Dain’s palace in the traditional concept of a royal palace.  None.  Yes, there were maids and butlers, but they didn’t wait on people.  The maids and butlers cleaned the rooms, but not personal chambers, only common areas.  The cooks made food.  The launderers did laundry.  And that was all they did.  There were no personal servants; only the Dain had personal servants in that regard, and even he only had servants who helped him with his schedule or relayed messages.  The Dain dressed himself just like any other Dwarf, he cleaned his own room, and basicly did all the things that any commoner Dura would do.  Every Dwarf took care of his own affairs, looked after himself, and personified the ideal that every Dwarf was responsible for his own well being.  If a Dwarf wanted food in his personal quarters, he went and got it.  If he needed laundry done, he took it down to the laundry himself, and picked it up.  Parents didn’t even order childen to run errands, ingraining into them at a young age the idea that a Dwarf is responsible for his own affairs.

      That earthiness made Tarrin feel that the Dura were a people he could come to like.  Tarrin himself had a towering scorn for the idea of being waited on hand and foot, and he had finally come among people who understood how he felt and left him alone.  It pleased Mist and Kimmie as well, though Haley and Miranda certainly didn’t seem very happy with the way the Dura did things.

      Over the course of that first day with the Dura, the Dain didn’t come back to Tarrin to talk, for he was locked in his study with Lorak, and then with Neh as she was summoned to get him into contact with the Elara.  But Kang and Tsukatta were definitely very, very popular.  They ended up with Dain Darax’s command staff, led by a badly scarred Dwarf named Bragg, who only had one eye and a wicked scar running diagonally from his top right temple, over the black eye patch over his empty right eye socket, and cutting a deep furrow in the his cheek and upper lip.  The right side of the base of his nose was gone, as were all the front teeth in his upper jaw, which gave him a permanent sneer and a rather unpleasant visage to look upon.  Bragg’s face wasn’t much to look at, but he was every bit the general that Kang was, and the two of them had immediately struck up a rather unusual friendship based on contentuous argument over military philosophy.  Kang and Bragg and Bragg’s generals pored over maps of the area around the Iron Mountain and argued about troop positioning in the face of the large army that was marching north from the mountains, an army containing Demons, and how to best go about defending against it, as Tsukatta made suggestions that got him embroiled into the planning and revealed the wandering warrior’s expertise in the arts of warfare, be them on a personal or army level.  That army would get here before Tarrin and Dolanna left, so the Dura would have to meet it and repel it, with the help of the newcomers.

      The Dura certainly had some opinions about the others.  Binter and Sisska and the other Vendari were so huge that the Dura had misgivings about approaching them, but after they started talking, they started warming to the level-headed Vendari.  They had no trouble at all accepting the Selani either, for they were the souls of courtesy.  But the Dura turned a cold shoulder to the Knights and the other humans, even the Shadows, probably because of the impact the One had had on their lives, and they really, really didn’t like Miranda.  Miranda’s cheeky disposition just seemed to rub the dour Dura the wrong way, and they certainly weren’t afraid to make their dislike of her known.  Sarraya too got the rough side of the Dura, reducing her to screaming in frustration and retreating to the sanctuary of Tarrin’s personal chamber.  Ariana was personable enough for the Dura to talk with her, but they would have nothing to do with Anayi because someone let it slip that she was a half-breed Demon.  The Dura were afraid of Camara and Koran Tal, and not just because they were so tall…there was just something about the Amazons that intimidated the Dura.

      Fireflash spent the rest of the day with Tarrin, extricating himself from the sometimes smothering attention that Zyri gave him, for she was the one he was with if he was not with Tarrin.  What surprised Tarrin more was that Forge and Ember also spent the rest of the day with him, lounging at the foot of the chair he occupied.  Tarrin and Forge had always had a rather affable relationship, and Ember also seemed to have an honest affection for him…and Fireflash’s relationship with the Hellhounds was never in doubt.  To the Hellhounds, Fireflash was like a member of the pack. He and Dolanna finalized their plans when he contacted the Goddess, and she informed him that the Elder Gods were more than willing to supply their aid.  Though they had exiled him to Pyrosia and they were afraid of him, not even they could deny that stopping the Demon Lord from destroying Pyrosia was what had to be done.  As gods, it was their duty to oppose the Demons, and denying them the opportunity to conquer another material plane was imperative.  Ayise herself had replied when Tarrin contacted Niami the second time and told him that the combined might of all ten Elder Gods would be there to shield Tarrin and Dolanna from the wrath of the Demon Lord as they ensnared him in their trap.

      After they had that pledge, they pored over maps and decided where and how to approach, where the icon of the One might be, and the best way to go about getting at him with a minimal of an exposure of risk to themselves.  But they stopped soon after that, for Mist returned with the children, and Kimmie came to visit, and then Var and Denai came to his room to visit, and then the three of them left together to explore the Dwarven city.  Before they had a chance to begin again, Haley and Miranda came in to see him, accompanied by Binter and Sisska who had to walk hunched over and dropped to one knee any time they stopped.  The mink Wikuni spent a few minutes complaining about how unfriendly the Dura were, then started giving him the same report she gave to Kang, reporting everything she and Haley had observed about the Dura, from their behavior to their military fortifications.

      “They did a really good job with this place,” Haley said.  “One of Bragg’s generals, Murgak, he showed me around.  They really laid this place out with defense in mind.  The entire city is one big fortification designed to defend the Royal Ward, where we are.”

      Miranda nodded.  “When there’s an attack, they bring everyone into this ward and then seal off the rest of the city, just in case their army gets overrun and enemies breach the outer gates.  Their design isn’t to protect Dain Darax, but to protect the citizenry.  All the Dura are evacutated to this ward, and the rest of the city becomes a huge obstacle between the invaders and the people.  Most of the buildings in this Ward aren’t mansions, they’re really shelters,” she said in surprise.  “Very few people actually live in this Ward, mostly just the Dain and the command staff and most of the clan leaders.  The clans pull their people into this ward and put them in all these buildings, and that makes them virtually untouchable.”

      “Citizen really just means women and children,” Haley said.  “And not all the women either.  It’s kinda hard to tell them from the men because of those beards,” he said with a shudder, “but they have a sizable number of women in their army.  I’d say about eighty percent of the Dura’s population can be put on the field in case of any major action.  In a way, I can understand the Dain’s seeming arrogance about his chances here.  If it was anything but a Demon army, I’d say that their Iron Mountain is all but impregnable.”

      “Aye,” Binter agreed.  “The Dura have done an outstanding job in the design of their mountain city.  The Sashka would be hard pressed to conquer this place.”

      Now that was a complement, if Binter was admitting that the Vendari wouldn’t be able to easily take the Iron Mountain in battle.

      “It’s easy to understand why the Dura have been a pain in the One’s backside all these years,” Miranda chuckled.  “They’re so heavily entrenched here that the One would have to sacrifice virtually his entire army to dig them out.  I found out that the Dura have more farmland deeper in the mountain range, which is all but unreachable by men on foot, which they reach through very small tunnels that can be collapsed in case someone tries to use them to invade the city, so their food and their water sources are completely secure.  They can’t be starved out, they can’t be defeated in battle, and they can’t be tricked with diplomacy, because the One would never resort to espionage.  I think only the Elara are more secure than the Dura, and only just because they live on the moon.”

      “No, the Elara have a gateway that opens to their moon, so they’re not as secure as the Dura,” Tarrin mused.  “There’s no way into this city unless you can literally walk through rock.”

      “How does it look for the Dura concerning the advancing army?” Dolanna asked.

      “The army’s big,” Miranda replied.  “Very big.  Anayi and Ariana got together with Kang earlier and they guessed out how big it is, and it’s not good.  They estimate that maybe around a hundred thousand men are within four days of the Iron Mountain, and however many Demons are included with them.  Kang figures they’ll attack in five days.  Bragg’s intent is to revert to his typical strategy, which is to march out and destroy them in a pass through the foothills south of the farms.  There’s a place between two sharp hills that Bragg calls the Meat Grinder, it’s the only real option for an army on the march, given that the Dura control the hills.  He intends to set up there and turn them away.”

      “I remember seeing that pass when we flew in,” Tarrin mused.  “Bragg’s right, it’s a good place to set up.”

      “If we intend to have Phandebrass cast his spell in seven days, then we’ll be seeing a battle before we go,” Haley reasoned.  “Kang has already pledged the assistance of our people, and Bragg basicly browbeat the Dain into accepting.  So we’ll be marching out with them.”

      “I would have had our people go no matter what this Dain said,” Binter said.  “It is a good chance to feel out the capabilities of our foe.  A wise commander knows his opponent’s forces as well as he knows his own.”

      “Bragg has plans for our Pegasi,” Miranda said with a cheeky grin.  “He wants to put the Wizards and Elementalists on Pegasi and harass the enemy from the air during the battle.”

      “That would work so long as the Demons don’t have any vrock,” Tarrin grunted.  “But they probably will, and a mounted spellcaster is no match for a vrock in the air.  I think what Bragg doesn’t realize is that the enemy can hold back almost all its Demons until just before the battle, then have them simply Teleport in.  He should expect a larger force than what’s coming, and quite a few of them to be very, very powerful.  First thing they should do is start having the spellcasters imbue every weapon they can get their hands on with a magic aura.  That would be all it takes to make them capable of harming Demons.  Add the weapons they can get to those of us from Sennadar, who are carrying weapons that can hurt Demons, and put them all in a reserve force that gets held back specifically to counter any Demons.  The spellcasters themselves should also be held back and reserved just for fighting Demons.”

      “Kang already made those suggestions,” Haley informed him.  “His Empress happens to be a Demon, so he knows how to combat them.  Bragg resisted the idea at first, but once Kang explained what he was going to be up against, he gave over on the idea.”

      “Tsukatta’s going to command that reserve,” Miranda told them.  “The way they’re going to set up is that Bragg handles the normal forces of the One, and Tsukatta and Kang will deal with the Demons and any spellcasters that the enemy might have on their side.”

      “Bragg also has some plans for you, Tarrin.  He heard about how we arrived,” Miranda winked.  “He thinks you’d be quite an impressive surprise to drop on the One’s army at the right time.”

      “That’s fine,” he said.  “As a dragon, I’m sure I could do some damage to the One’s forces.  With sheer weight if anything else,” he chuckled.

      “Expect him to come around soon and ask,” she warned.  “Kang told him that nobody commands you to do anything, and that if he wanted you to participate in the battle, he’d better come ask you.  Nicely.”

      “I’d have to go blue for that,” he mused to himself.  “Demons are immune to fire, but they’re not immune to lightning.  A blue dragon would be a much more effective weapon than a gold against Demons.”

      “Sapphire would be overjoyed,” Haley smiled.

      “She probably thinks it’s sacrelige that I use the form of a gold,” he chuckled in agreement.  “I’ll have to tell her it’s just because I have two breath weapons when I use a gold.  If blues had more than one, I’d probably use a blue.”

      “I’ll let Bragg know that you’d be inclined to the idea, all he has to do is ask,” Miranda noted aloud.  “Well, that’s about all I have to say.  Haley?”

      “Nope,” he answered.  “That covers about everything.”

      “Good.  Thanks for the information.  Now you can go,” he said lightly, yet in a manner that made it clear they were dismissed.  “You too, Dolanna.”

      She nodded and got up.  “Should I intercept Mist?”

      He shook his head.  “You couldn’t do that anyway.  She won’t disturb me, so it’s not an issue.  And the children know better than to bother me when I’m busy.  I’ll be fine.”  He reached down and picked up the Gnomlin Traveling Spellbook, then opened it to the page where he had stopped.  “I’ll see you at dinner.”

      “We’ll be dining in the main hall with Darax and his clan leaders,” Miranda giggled.  “This’ll be interesting, that’s for sure.  Sure you don’t want me to stay, Tarrin?  I can help with whatever that is.”

      “No.  Bye, Miranda.”

      “Aww, come on, I know—“

      “Miranda.  Out,” he commanded, pointing at the door.  “Binter.”

      Binter nodded, and grabbed Miranda by the tip of her bushy tail, then got up and started towards the door as he waddled hunched over in that direction.  “Ow!” Miranda squeaked when Binter pulled all the slack out of her tail, and she literally started being dragged backwards towards the door by her tail.  “Binter!  That hurts!”

      “Disobedience is often painful,” he said sagely as he squeezed through the door, pulling the mink along behind him.