A line of grim, weary elves zigzagged down the chasm wall, bearing swords and spears and bows. Having made the same journey herself, she almost felt sorry for them. Almost. Her compassion had limits. Some of these elves may even be decent people at heart, but they were coming to kill her and her friends, and lay waste to the last refuge of the dwarves.

The view on the screen shifted to the eastern wall, where some of the more adventurous druids hung from conjured vine ropes, abseiling down the waterlogged rocks at—perhaps literally—breakneck speed. That actually looked fun.

Or it did until a sudden, violent gust of wind set the vines swaying. The elves hanging from them cursed and shouted. One lost his grip on his magic and plunged, screaming into the abyss.

The originators of this calamity descended the chasm amidst a whirling vortex of air and water. Five naked mer women floating in a circle, clutching long spears close to their bodies.

“Oh now that’s just cheating,” said Saskia.

“They aren’t your only concern,” said Calbert Bitterbee, gazing up at the screen. “Look there.”

At the flick of his hand, the image on the display shifted to a spot further up the chasm, where stream of motley figures sat astride an assortment of large creatures. Just like the beasts they rode upon, some of the riders had fur and slitted eyes. Others scales and claws.

Saskia’s eyebrows shot up. “Beastmen?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” said Calburn. “Beastmasters take on aspects of their bonded animal companions, but on the inside, they’re still just elves.”

“Another form of druid magic?”

“Nope. Their magic comes from the seed of the hunt, far to the north on the plains of Hraith. The eruption devastated much of their homeland, so these guys are especially pissed.”

Saskia frowned at the reminder, once again, that the elves were in some ways entirely justified in coming down here to exact revenge.

The view shifted again, and now she was looking at a different group marching near the front of the queue. At their head was an oddly-proportioned figure in a billowing grey cloak. He (or she—it was hard to be certain, but he exuded a certain male vibe, so she’d use the that pronoun for now) had a long neck, hunched over head and what might be a short tail swishing back and forth beneath his cloak as he stalked down the wet rocks, steam billowing outward in the wake of his passage. His face—or snout, or whatever it was—remained hidden beneath his hood, but she caught a glimpse of white porcelain beneath.

She let out a gasp. “That’s not…Abellion, is it?”

Calburn laughed. “Don’t expect him to show up in person. That’s just his meat puppet: one of the so-called Chosen.”

“Another Chosen? After what Garrain told me, I thought there was only one of them alive at any given time.”

“Well you’d better dispel that notion. The elves may think they’re the centre of the world, but Abellion’s reach extends far beyond Ciendil. This one came from…further afield.”

“So where’s the scary sword guy? Thiachrin. He must be around here somewhere…”

“I don’t know.”

She stared at him. “You don’t know?”

“I’m not omniscient,” said Calburn. “This would be a lot easier if I were. I don’t know his whereabouts, but I’m sure we can count on him to make an appearance too.”

She sighed. “I can hardly wait.”

“You won’t have to wait much longer. If you insist on trying to save those self-destructive flatlanders living in the city above, the time to begin is…a day or two ago, actually.”

“What? Then why are you just telling me this now?”

It was his turn to sigh. “I had hoped I might persuade you to take a different course. But it seems you’re as stubborn as I was at your age.”

“Well thanks for nothing, Dad. I’d better wake up now.”

He waved at her. “Bye. Try not to die.”

 

Saskia sat bolt upright. She had no time to lose.

It was so early in the morning that even Ruhildi was fast asleep. The dwarf blinked at her, and Saskia flashed her an apologetic smile. It felt strange to be waking her friend. Saskia had always been the late riser.

“Bollocks,” mumbled Ruhildi. “’Tis time, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Past time, actually. They’ll begin their attack within days—barely enough time to get there.”

They hurried to wake up the other dwarves and Rover Dog.

“Are the stone guardians ready?” she asked Kveld.

“I…think so,” he said. “There hasn’t been time to test the new control pattern.”

Saskia sighed inwardly. There hadn’t been time for a lot of things. They’d just have to make do with what they had. “Consider this our test then. Kveld, come with me. Everyone else, you’d better grab all your gear and stand outside, just in case.”

At the control chamber, Saskia pressed her hand against the black monolith, and ordered it to decouple from the facility. It shrank back down to a palm-sized cube in her hand. She handed the keystone to Kveld.

He stood with it for several minutes, eyes glazed.

“Anything?” she asked.

He blinked at her. “What? Och aye. The pattern…’tis weaker, but…seems to be holding. The stone guardians still respond to my will.”

Sparing one last glance over the halls she’d called home for over a month, Saskia stepped out into the crypts, where the others waited. Kveld followed a moment later with the first of the golems.

Waiting as the lumbering stone giants slowly gathered around them, Saskia looked over her companions approvingly. All except Myrna had a new piece of equipment or two, courtesy of Ruhildi and Kveld and the Stone Bastion foundry.

For Rover Dog, Ruhildi had fashioned some pieces of wormhide armour. There wasn’t enough wormhide to make a full set for him, but at least he had enough to cover some of his vital areas. Saskia had begged her friend to make the crotch guard first, because she was sick of seeing that barbed monstrosity flopping around. Rover Dog had also made a simple—but enormous—staff sling for himself. In the hands of a troll, the weapon was essentially a mobile trebuchet. When Saskia had tried using it, she’d somehow managed to smack herself in the face. She’d stick with her magic axe.

Freygi too had received wormhide armour, although because she was that much smaller than the troll, the form-fitting leather covered her whole body. She looked every bit the sexy assassin in that garb. Baldreg’s first comment upon seeing his wife’s new outfit was: “You look so good in that, bonnie, I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

As for Baldreg—he had a stack of exploding crossbow bolts. Ruhildi had been especially proud of those puppies. They’d had a lot of cleaning up to do after testing them.

Kveld wore a set of shiny new armour and carried a matching shield with a ward that could repel arrows. Oh how Saskia wished she could have one of those.

For herself, Ruhildi had carved a little bone spider. Little compared to the dwarf, that is. Not compared to spiders on Earth. When animated (because of course it could be animated), it was one of the creepiest things Saskia had ever seen. And she’d seen her share of creepy things. Her friend hadn’t revealed its intended purpose, but she could be certain it would be something…creepy.

“How’s the, uh, pattern now, Kveld?” she asked as the last of the golems came up the stairs.

“Unchanged.”

“Perfect! So as you predicted, the keystone remains tied to both the Bastion and the expansion nodes. We can take them up into the city, and you’ll be able to adjust their…uh, programming on the fly.” She turned to the others. “I know we’ve discussed this already, but I just want to be clear: once we reveal ourselves, there’s no going back. We might have a huge fight on our hands the moment we poke our heads up. Against your own people, no less.”

“’Tis a chance we have to take,” said Ruhildi. “I hope my Pap will see the light of reason, but if he doesn’t…saving our people is more important than his life, or mine, or anyone’s, ’cept mayhap yours Sashki.”

“My life is not more important than the entire dwarrow race!” objected Saskia. “You’re facing possible extinction here!”

Ruhildi gave a non-committal dwarven shrug. “I don’t ken how many other races you might save in your time on Arbor Mundi, should you topple the tyrant on the amber throne. Mayhap ’tis our fate to save you.”

“No,” said Saskia. “No matter what I am, I’m just one person. There will be no toppling anyone without you at my side. All of you, I hope, and the dwarrows of the Underneath, and maybe even a few alvari too. So let’s get out there, kick some butts and save your people!”

“Butt is inefficacious part to kick, princess,” said Rover Dog helpfully. “Squishy head within easy reach. Kick head instead. Or stomp whole body into ground.”

“Uh…thanks, Rover Dog,” said Saskia. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Shaking her head, she set off into the crypts after the golems. The walls shook with each of their lumbering steps.

“They’re fair slow,” said Ruhildi, drumming her fingers against the wall as she waited behind the queue of stone monstrosities.

“Yeah,” said Saskia. “And I’m afraid there isn’t time for us to place a control highway all the way to the prime passage. We can’t take the stone guardians with us.”

“We?” said Ruhildi, frowning up at her. “You ken, if I can convince my Pap to allow it, mayhap ’twould be best for you to stay back, ready to defend the city if my plan fails. I—”

“Oh no,” said Saskia. “We’ve been over this. I’m coming with you.”

“I also follow,” said Rover Dog. “Protect princess; flick rocks at tree-humping squishies.”

“Well I hope you don’t expect me to leave the city,” said Myrna. “I’m just a matron. You wouldn’t want to be hauling my fat arse where you’re going.”

Ruhildi snorted. “You’re a wee bit more than just a matron, and you ken it. But aye, your place is here. In that, we agree.” Then she turned to Kveld. “If we can’t take the stone guardians with us, you’ll have to remain behind to supervise them, Kveldi. Unless you expect us to hand them over to the shapers.”

“Hell no,” said Saskia. “I agree, he’s needed here. You okay with that, Kveld?”

Kveld looked crestfallen. “I’d rather come with you, but…if this is where I must be…”

Baldreg looked at his wife, frowning. “Bonnie, one of us should remain with the lad. I wouldn’t put it past the shapers to try something. If they do, someone should be there to put holes in them.”

“I don’t need guarding,” objected Kveld. “I can defend myself. And the stone guardians—they’ll be near.”

“Near enough to reach you in time if an assassin strikes?” said Baldreg. “And would you even see one coming? You’ll have your head in the keystone, lad, and you ken it.”

“I’ll stay with him,” said Freygi. “You go with Ruhi and the trows. Those magic arrows of yours could make all the difference out there, but they’d be fair useless in a close quarters fight. I’ll put my daggers in anyone who so much as sneezes at him.”

“Aye, you make a good point,” said Baldreg morosely. “I’m sorry, bonnie. I don’t like this, but ’tis for the best.”

“Alright,” said Ruhildi. “’Tis settled then.”

Eyeing the skeletons inside the alcoves along the walls, Saskia asked Ruhildi, “You gonna raise any of those?”

“Not yet, Sashki. The stone guardians will be enough of a shock for the city dwarrows. Let’s not make things worse.” Ruhildi snorted. “Though I do want to see the look on my pap’s face when he larns what I can do.”

Seeing the gleam in her friend’s eye, Saskia spoke hastily. “You’re right. Let’s not push it. Besides, they’d only slow us down. The crypts will still be here if we need them in the days to come.”

The golems were too wide to fit through the opening to the surface, so her friend had call on her magic to melt a wider hole in the stone ceiling. It took some doing, but they managed to get them all rocking out on the mean streets of Torpend. They made quite the sight; mountains of rock marching down the city street in perfect synchrony. It was only a matter of time until…

Oh yeah, there were the city watch, shouting and drawing their weapons. Horns blasted the still morning air, and guards came running from every direction.

“Stand down!” said Ruhildi, striding out from among the assembled golems. She wore no hood today. “We’re here to help.”

Some of the guards faltered. Several of them kept coming, but when they saw that their fellows were no longer at their sides, they too ground to a halt. Murmurs broke out among the nervous dwarves.

“Who is this dwarrow?”

“Who is she? Are you daft? Don’t you ken?”

“How can this be? Is she really here?”

“Aye, she’s here,” said one the guards, loud enough to drown out the murmurs. “You’ve all heard the rumours, and here’s the proof. Vindica stands before us. She returns to us from the Halls Beyond in our darkest days.”

“Aye, so you heard of me,” said Ruhildi. “If you ken my name, you ken I’d never take up arms against our great city. I’m here to fight the leaf-ears. And these…” She swept her arms over Saskia and Rover Dog and the golems. “These are weapons we’ll use to crush the alvari bastards!”

More mutters. Some of the dwarves eyed her with suspicion, while others looked in awe. Two of them dropped to one knee, blades pointing to the ground, as if offering their allegiance.

“On your feet, you dolts!” shouted a grizzled watchman. “We don’t ken if she’s who she says she is. It could be a trick!”

“Use your head, Borrald!” said another. “There aren’t enough of us here to make a dent in those monsters if they choose to attack.”

“The words of a craven coward,” said Borrald, lips curled in disdain. “You call yourself dwarrows of the watch? On your feet! You’ll stand your ground until we ken the truth of the matter.”

As the watchmen argued, a trio with metal wands, who pushed their way through the circle.

“By all the shapers of old, what’s going on here?” said their leader, a dwarf with an exceptionally tidy beard. Saskia had seen him before, but she couldn’t recall where. His eyes locked on Ruhildi. “You. When the Chancellor told me his daughter had returned, I could scarcely believe my ears.”

“Grindlecraw,” said Ruhildi through gritted teeth.

The dwarf’s gaze flicked to Saskia. “I’ve seen that trow afore.” His eyes narrowed as he locked eyes once more with her friend’s. “So you were the one who came to our aid back in Dwallondorn.”

Ah, so that’s who he was. Now she remembered. She was a little surprised to learn that the Chosen hadn’t killed him when he went after the stoneshapers beneath Wengarlen. Either some of them had escaped—an unlikely prospect, given what she’d seen of the Chosen—or Grindlecraw hadn’t been present at the time.

“Aye, ’twere us,” said Ruhildi.

“You can confirm this dwarrow’s identity, Honoured Rector?” said Borrald.

“Aye,” said Grindlecraw. “This is indeed the Chancellor’s daughter, returned from the slave burrows of Wengarlen. I presume that part of your story is true, Ruhildi. Or should I call you Vindica?”

The name echoed up and down the ranks of the gathered watchmen, until someone cried out, “Och give it a rest, lads! You’re acting like a pack of oddlings.”

Ruhildi snorted. Turning back to Grindlecraw, she pointed at her slave mark. “Most of what I told you were true. The leaf-ears did unspeakable things to me, though that weren’t why I hid my face from you. I’m being completely true with you now. I mean this city no harm. These stone guardians are here to help, as are we.”

“The Chancellor will judge the truth of your words, not I,” said Grindlecraw. “Come back to Spindle with me and meet with him.”

Ruhildi gave a bitter laugh. “I tried that already. No, if he wants to meet with me, he can come to us. We’ll be waiting right here.”

Grindlecraw’s eyes narrowed. “If this is a trick…”

“’Tis no trick,” said Ruhildi. “Do you think I’d hurt my own pap?”

Saskia choked down the urge to bring up all the times Ruhildi had already threatened to maim or murder her father.

“Very well,” said Grindlecraw. “Herolt, go tell the Chancellor what has transpired here. He’ll ken what to do.”

They waited in tense silence while the shaper hurried off toward Spindle. As the minutes ticked by, and with nothing better to do, Saskia called up her minimap and began to hop from person to person through the city, watching as the dwarves prepared for the inevitable siege.

“Look at the trow’s eyes…”

“That’s fair odd.”

The voices came from somewhere close to her own body, not from her remote sight. Only then did she remember that her eyes glowed when she did this. She was putting on a light show for those gathered around her. Whoops.

Trying to ignore the muttered voices, she flitted her view northward out of the city, past columns of marching dwarves, to the fortifications arrayed outside the prime passage, now bustling with activity.

Into the yawning mouth of the vast tunnel, past barricades and trenches and towers of stone, past catapults and ballistas and spiked pits, she reached the vanguard, where armoured dwarves sat around warming their hands over bonfires, eating and drinking, shouting and laughing.

This wasn’t what Saskia had expected to see on the front lines. She’d imagined perfectly formed columns of dour-faced dwarves standing shoulder-to-shoulder in silent vigil. Because that’s what they did in movies and games. But of course, now she thought about it, that was a silly idea. These dwarves had probably been here for days or weeks already, and the battle hadn’t started yet. So why not try to live a little during the long, tedious wait? These weren’t disposable movie extras or video game automatons. They were people.

People who would very likely be dead within the next few days.

From the gloom, a pair of lightly armoured dwarves came riding in on what looked like giant bulls. Saskia shifted into the head of one of the riders as he dismounted and delivered the news to his commander.

“The first of the leaf-ears have reached the base of the passage,” said the scout. “In three days, no less, the tail catches up with the head. That is when the serpent will strike.”

“Sashki,” said a voice beside her. She broke the connection, returning to her own body in time to see a large gathering of stoneshapers approaching from Spindle. At the head of the group strode none other than Mangorn, Ruhildi’s father, Chancellor of the Shaper Guild and de-facto ruler of the city of Torpend.

Taking in the sight of the golems and trolls, Mangorn heaved a loud sigh. Even from this distance, Saskia could hear him muttering. “Och bollocks. As if my day could get any worse. What has she done this time?”

Saskia couldn’t help but notice the tremor in Ruhildi’s legs as she stepped forward to meet her father. “Tell the snipers on yonder spiretop to stand down, Pap. My friends ken what to do should they put a sleeping bolt in me. You do not want to larn what that is.”

Mangorn hesitated, then turned and made a slicing gesture with one hand. On Saskia’s minimap, a pair of orange markers circled around, then stepped away from the building. Turning back to her, he grimaced. “Done. Now I trust you have an explanation for this madness.” His eyes swept over the golems. “What are these monstrosities?”

“Stone guardians,” said Ruhildi. “My friends and I unearthed them, and now we’ve set them to the task of defending this city against the invaders.”

“Or destroying it,” he said.

Ruhildi glared at him. “Think, Pap. If we wanted to destroy Torpend, we wouldn’t have waited here to parley with you.” She flicked her gaze over the golems. “With weapons like these, think of the harm I could have done, had I simply unleashed them upon you without warning. Yet here I stand, talking to you.”

“I wish I could believe you, daughter. But after what the leaf-ears did to you…”

“Aye, they did this to me. He did this to me. But I amn’t under their sway. I were trying to tell you last time, but you wouldn’t listen. I’m still me, Pap. I killed the one who did this to me, and many others besides when I made my escape. I’ll kill many more in the coming days. Just ask the Rector.” She nodded toward Grindlecraw. “He saw mer die by my magic.”

“’Tis true, Honoured Chancellor,” said Grindlecraw. “She and that trow of hers killed many of the fish-ears. Though I wouldn’t presume to guess her motive for doing so.”

“The alvari aren’t always friendly with each other, much less the mer,” said Mangorn. “Who can say she isn’t an agent of a specific enclave? She may not even be aware that her mind has been poisoned.”

“The only one whose mind has been poisoned is yours, Pap,” said Ruhildi. “Poisoned by grief and loss. Look what your actions have wrought. Ciendil bleeds into the skies above. The leaf-ears are at our door, united like never afore. You may very well have doomed us all. And for what? There’s no reason to grieve. I’m right here. Your daughter.”

“If what you say is true…but how can I be sure of it?” Mangorn’s voice cracked. “This world is but a waking nightmare. The fates would never return my daughter to me unharmed. ’Tis too much to hope for.”

Ruhildi drew in a shuddering breath. “I ken how you feel, Pap. I felt it myself after Nadi passed. The fates chose not to return her to me, but they’re not always so cruel. There are good things in this world. Good people.” Glistening eyes flicked between Saskia and her dwarven friends. “They make life worth living. I wish you could see that too.”

Mangorn was silent for a long moment. Uncertainty flicked across his face. He looked from the golems to Rover Dog and Saskia. “And what of these monsters? You think they’re your allies? You can’t ally with a trow. It’ll turn on you the moment you let down your guard.”

Ruhildi’s expression shifted back to a glare. “That’s a load of shite, Pap. These trows are far more than beasts. Sashki is my dearest friend, and our best hope for—well that’s not for you to ken. But ken this. I trust her and this other trow far more than I’ll ever trust you.”

Grindlecraw frowned. “You told me the trow is just your pet. For the daughter of the Chancellor to be consorting with such creatures…’tis unbecoming.”

“Och aye?” said Ruhildi. “Well ’tis unbecoming of you to be such an arse.”

“Watch your tongue, daughter.” Mangorn’s gaze shifted to Baldreg and Freygi and Kveld. “And as for you, I’ve no doubt you’re to blame for the recent unpleasantness within Spindle walls. You’ve some nerve to show your faces after what you did.”

“After what we did?” said Freygi, her voice dripping with scorn. “You kidnapped your own daughter! All we did was free her.”

Mangorn frowned at her. “You murdered two shield-bearers.”

Freygi gave a dwarven shrug. “They should’ve picked a better contract.”

Borrald, the leader of the city watch, stepped toward her, weapon raised. “Vile mistress of the shadows, you’ll pay dearly for what you…”

In a single leap, Saskia landed between them. The ground cracked beneath her feet. Borrald flinched away. Wands and weapons pointed at her. But the Chancellor waved them down. “No-one is to act without my order, understand?”

Saskia turned her head from side to side, addressing everyone. “While you squabble like stupidiots, the alvari are gathering in the prime passage. In less than three days, they’ll begin their attack. Oh, and there’s at least one Chosen with them. So yeah, unless you want to die horribly, stop wasting time.”

The dwarves all stared at her.

“It speaks,” said one of the shapers.

She scowled at him. “Of course I speak. I’m a trow, not a turnip.”

“How could anyone—much less a trow—ken what is transpiring in the prime passage?” said Mangorn.

“It’s quite simple,” said Saskia. “I’m an oracle, and I saw it.”

“A trow oracle?” said the Chancellor incredulously.

“’Tis true, Pap,” said Ruhildi.

At that moment, a distant horn blasted three times. All around her, dwarven faces drained of colour.

“That’s the signal,” said Mangorn. “The beacons have been lit. It seems there may be some truth to your words, trow.” He turned to Ruhildi. “If you truly mean to defend the Underneath, what do you intend to do with these…” He surveyed the golems. “…weapons of yours?”

“The stone guardians will stand with you in defence of the city,” said Ruhildi. “Kveldi here will be in charge of them, so you just let him ken where best to position them. The trows and Baldi and I will be going to the front.”

A ripple of emotions played across Mangorn’s face before he finally spoke. “So ’tis then. I won’t stand in your way. This isn’t over, but we can’t afford to be fighting amongst ourselves at a time like this.” The Chancellor pulled a small jewel from his belt satchel and handed it to Ruhildi.

Her eyes widened as she saw what it was. “A guildstone! But I amn’t of the Shaper Guild, as you well ken.”

“Just take it, afore I change my mind, lass!” said Mangorn. “Most any dwarrows who see it will stay their hands.”

With trembling fingers, Ruhildi took the proffered object.

Mangorn turned to the guards. “See Vindica and her trows safely to the gates, dwarrows of the watch.”

Ruhildi threw her arms around Freygi. “Take care of Kveldi.”

“Don’t you dare die out there,” murmured Freygi, her eyes growing misty. “We’ve been through that one too many times already. And you…” She reeled Baldreg in. “There’ll be more of this waiting for you when you come back. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

A silly grin crept across Baldreg’s face. “Aye mam.”

She jabbed him in the belly. “I amn’t your mam!” Releasing him, she muttered, “Addle-brained fool! Why would you even…”

Mangorn offered Ruhildi a slow nod. “Be safe, daughter of mine. I wish…well, just come back in one piece. And then we’ll talk.”

She returned the nod. “I will, Pap.” Releasing her friends, she turned Saskia. “Let’s move out.”

An escort of ten watchmen accompanied them all the way to the north gate. Once outside the gates, Ruhildi hopped up onto the harness on Saskia’s back. Baldreg, after more than a little hesitation, did likewise with Rover Dog.

“Giddy-up,” muttered Saskia as she dropped onto all fours and bounded away from the startled guards, heading northward. Rover Dog fell into step beside her.

“I don’t ken…” said Ruhildi.

“It’s something people back on Earth say to make their horses—their mounts—move faster.”

“Och I’ll remember that one,” said Ruhildi.

“Actually, on second thought, forget I said anything.”

“Giddy-up, Sashki. Giddy-up!”

Saskia groaned. This was going to be a long journey.

In the far distance, the signal fires burned.