"It's not an adventure and it won't be thrilling," Goпmgar contradicted him. "Just wait: Your stomach will turn somersaults, your beard will blow in your face, and you'll want to be sick."

"It can't be that bad," the player said blithely. He fastened the safety rope around his waist. "I'm not as soft as you think."

The wagon reached the end of the ramp and plummeted almost vertically into the tunnel. At that moment Rodario emitted a terrified scream, closing his mouth only when he felt an uncontrollable urge to vomit. For the first time in ages, Goпmgar looked genuinely pleased. Beroпn's Folk, Secondling Kingdom, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle Balendilнn was in his chamber, ax in hand. He raised it tentatively and took a few practice swipes to check if he could swing it one-handed.

"There's more of them coming, Your Majesty," came an anxious shout from outside. "You ought to see for yourself."

Anyone would think Bislipur's warmongering had lured them to our gates, he thought darkly, leaving his chamber and striding past row upon row of grim-faced warriors until he reached the highest battlements of Ogre's Death and surveyed the land below.

The enemy was everywhere. Black figures, some larger than others, were milling about on the ground, and the air reeked of rancid fat. An unwholesome stench of orcs wafted over from their encampment a mile from the gates where they were preparing to attack. The muffled sound of their shouts reached the battlements.

In the distance, gigantic wooden siege engines, each forty or more paces in height, were rolling toward the stronghold. They'll be over the first rampart in no time with the help of those things.

To the dwarf's eyes, the contraptions looked crooked and ungainly, but the beasts cared nothing for the engines' durability or elegance, provided that they fulfilled their purpose, which was to breach the outer defenses so the real invasion could begin. The timber towers had been draped with human skin to protect against firebombs, and the orcs intended to keep them watered for the duration of the assault.

"I didn't expect them to attack so soon," said Bislipur, joining him on the battlements and looking down at the hordes. Dressed in full armor, he looked every bit the dwarven warrior. "There must be ten thousand of them at least. What a blessing I'd already sent word to my kingdom and summoned our troops." He waited for a word of praise, but none came.

"Orcs, bцgnilim, a handful of ogres, some trolls, and a contingent of дlfar," enumerated Balendilнn, surveying the enemy ranks. "Nфd'onn is determined to annihilate us, just as Tungdil said." He watched the combined force of secondlings and fourthlings take up position behind the first rampart and prepare for the attack. The magus would never send an army of such proportions without securing the human kingdoms first. There's something not right about this. "If the ramparts fall, we'll retreat inside the mountain," he decided.

"Then what?"

"They'll be lost if they follow us. We know the territory and they don't."

"Are you saying we might not hold the ramparts?" Bislipur asked, surprised. "With two armies of five thousand warriors apiece, we should be able to defend the stronghold for as long as it takes."

"In these dark times nothing is certain. I'm saying we shouldn't count on it." He sent some of his finest warriors to buttress the troops at the entrance to the underground network. Just in case, he thought bleakly.

On ascending the parapet, he obtained his first full view of the invading hordes, a motley collection of beasts, vile products of Tion's creation, poised to massacre the dwarves and open the High Pass to their foul kinsfolk in the Outer Lands.

The orcs and bцgnilim are wearing armor stolen from Umilante's men. Her soldiers could do nothing to halt their advance. Balendilнn watched as the enemy troopers marshaled themselves into disorderly groups, ready to launch their assault and test the dwarves' defenses. "We need two thousand soldiers behind the main gates," he commanded firmly. "Be ready to fight!"

He waited until the snarling, grunting orcs had almost reached the rampart; then he signaled for the gates to be opened, and his warriors sallied forth.

To his satisfaction, the dwarven axes wrought havoc among the brutes who were caught off guard by the counterattack and tried to flee, only to be rounded up and driven back into battle by the trolls.

By then, the dwarves were safely behind the solid walls of Ogre's Death. Three dozen of their number had suffered minor injuries, while several hundred beasts lay dead or dying on the dry earth before the gates. There was great rejoicing among the united armies of Beroпn and Goпmdil.

"See what a formidable force we are when we fight side by side!" Balendilнn shouted down to them proudly. He glanced around to see if Bislipur had anything to say.

The fourthling was nowhere in sight. Underground Network, Kingdom of Weyurn, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle The wagons shot through the tunnels, tearing cobwebs from the walls and ceilings and stirring up clouds of centuries-old dust. Every now and then a shadow took flight from the rattling, rumbling carriages and scampered out of the torchlight into the darkness of a side shaft. What life there was beneath the surface of Girdlegard was of a harmless, nervous variety that left the travelers well alone.

Tungdil and company were approaching the fifthling kingdom from the west. He kept count of the markers on the walls, calculating that they had traveled 250 miles by the end of the first orbit.

He shared the good news when they stopped for a while and lit a fire. "At this rate, we'll be there in four orbits. We're making excellent progress."

They were in a large chamber that served as a junction between two rails. The ceiling of the cavern was supported by naturally formed pillars and carefully hewn arches engraved with runes that testified to their dwarven origins. The wood now spluttering merrily in the flames had come from a leftover stockpile of moldering timber.

"We'll never be able to outwit the dragon," Goпmgar said dismally. "She'll burn us to cinders with her fire."

"We could always shove a long-un down her throat; that should do the trick," retorted Boпndil through a mouthful. "This is delicious, Balyndis. You firstlings certainly know a thing or two about salting and smoking meat." He plucked dried herbs from the rind of the ham and tasted them experimentally.

Bavragor gave Tungdil a nudge. "Isn't she lovely? I've never seen a more handsome-I mean, beautiful-smith." His chestnut eye gleamed contentedly. "And look at her chain mail! She's a master with a hammer."

"Since when do you know anything about smiths?" teased Tungdil, although he too had been admiring the metalwork. He grinned. "You've changed your tune, haven't you?"

"That was before our duel," Bavragor chuckled. "I took a blow to the heart."

Apparently so. The pair had bonded from the moment Balyndis had conquered the mason with her ax and they seemed to be getting closer all the time. Tungdil couldn't begrudge the one-eyed dwarf his happiness. "I thought she whacked you on the head, not the chest."

"Don't talk so fast," Rodario scolded. "I can barely keep up." Sprawled next to the fire, the impresario had been eavesdropping on their whispered exchange and was frantically transcribing every word. "I want the script to be as authentic as possible."

Meanwhile, Furgas had got up to examine the rail and Narmora was beside him, keeping watch. Djerun was sitting a few paces away from the others, his weapons laid out around him. As usual, he kept completely still.

"I wish she'd thumped him a bit harder," muttered Goпmgar in a voice so low that only Tungdil could hear. "Oh, Gandogar, if you weren't my beloved sovereign, I'd hate you for lumbering me with such insufferable companions." Like most nights, he was the first to pull up his blankets and settle down to sleep.