"Come here, you cowards," thundered a deep voice from somewhere along the passageway. "It takes more than that to scare a dwarf!" A moment later, blades crashed against shields and high-pitched squeals rent the air. "I may be the last one standing, but I'll slay at least four dozen of you before you cut me down. Vraccas is with me!"

I know that voice, thought Tungdil. He was still trying to place it when someone got there first.

"King Gandogar!" shouted a jubilant Goпmgar. "Stand firm, Your Majesty, I'm on my way!" Discarding his heavy cloak, he grabbed his shield, whipped his sword from its sheath, and stormed forth.

"Such courage!" exclaimed Rodario. "What's got into old Shimmerbeard? I never thought he had it in him."

"Me neither," said Boпndil. "All the same, we shouldn't let him fight alone." The prospect of clashing blades with Tion's beasts filled him with visible euphoria. "As for you," he threatened, nodding at Djerun, "you know the rules. Keep an eye on our undead mason. I don't want him stabbing me in the back." He threw off his cumbersome cloak and looked expectantly at Tungdil.

The company's leader hefted his ax, having already decided that the fourthling monarch deserved their aid. "Stand by our rivals like true children of the Smith," he told them, preparing to charge. "Death to our enemies!"

They barreled along the corridor and found themselves in a small, dimly lit hall filled with hairy, hunchbacked bцgnilim. Clad in armor several sizes too big for them and wielding maces and notched swords, the squawking creatures were shoving their way up a stone staircase at the top of which towered a statue of Vraccas cast in gold.

Blocking their path was Gandogar, as godlike in his heavy armor as the sculpture he was protecting. Gripping his double-bladed ax with both hands, he mowed down the first wave of aggressors with a single swipe. His diamond-studded helmet showered the walls and pillars with dappled light, adding to his heavenly aura.

At the bottom of the steps lay dead or dying beasts that had fallen from a height of ten paces. The stairs dripped with slimy olive and bottle-green blood, which further hindered the bцgnilim's attack.

Yet the enemy showed no sign of retreating. Pushing and shoving, the beasts fought their way to the front, only to be cut down by Gandogar's swooping blade.

Boпndil raced ahead of his companions, sounding his bugle to herald their advance.

"Here's another dwarf who's not afraid of Tion's beasts!" Laughing maniacally he threw himself into the battle, becoming Ireheart the Furious from whom there was no escape. His axes seemed to seek out his enemies instinctively, zeroing in on unprotected flesh and damaged mail. At the end of his first sally, six bцgnilim lay twitching on the floor.

Ireheart powered on, channeling a path through the hordes, with Tungdil and the others following in his wake. Even the usually timorous Goпmgar launched himself into the battle. For the first time he was prepared to fight and even die.

During the commotion Bavragor succeeded in tearing off his leather manacles. Not possessing any weapons, he tore the creatures apart with his hands, thrusting his blood-smeared muscular fingers deep into their flesh to inflict the fatal wound. The bцgnilim fought back with their swords, but the revenant continued undeterred, stopping only to seize two maces and swing them with terrible strength.

Stooping low, Djerun swiped at the knee-high creatures with his club. They crashed down amid their comrades, squashing some of them with their weight.

"To the stairs!" bellowed Tungdil on seeing that Gandogar was overextended. The king seemed to be the only survivor among his group; none of the others were visible amid the mass of heaving bodies.

The company closed ranks to thrash their way forward. Djerun stayed at the foot of the steps and repelled the advancing bцgnilim with murderous force, while the others worked their way up, engaging their enemy from behind until the last beast on the stairs had fallen. The ruler of the fourthling kingdom stood before them on the steps.

Gandogar looked dreadful, his face pale, haggard, and drawn. A mighty weapon had left two deep gashes in his bloodied chain mail.

"My king!" Goпmgar said joyfully. Not even the present danger could prevent him from sinking to one knee.

Tungdil gave him a brief nod. "Where are the others?"

"Dead," he said, struggling to regain his composure. "We need to get out of here before-"

Five figures, broader, uglier, and nastier than orcs, appeared at the far end of the hall. They were four paces tall and looked incredibly strong.

"Ogres!" Boпndil clapped excitedly. "This is where it gets really fun! Hey, Armor-Face, I'm leaving the tiddlers to you." He knocked the butts of his axes together and licked his lips. "This is more like it."

The smaller beasts drew back without a murmur, allowing the ogres to pass.

"The rest of you run," commanded Andфkai. "Djerun and I will keep them busy. We'll see how far my remaining magic gets us. Go!"

Even as she lowered her sword and began the incantation, a thunderous rumble filled the hall and a giant tore itself out of the flesh of the mountain, taking shape beside the statue. Cavernous eyes stared at the maga from a long stony face, and a fist sped down toward her.

Andфkai spotted the danger just in time and diverted her magic toward the unexpected foe. She managed to stop the blow, but was brought to her knees by the effort. "A golem," she coughed. "There must be a wizard controlling it. Find him and kill him before my strength deserts me. I can't hold off the creature for long."

A great cry went up among the surviving bцgnilim when they saw their apparently invincible enemies struggling to repel the new threat. The squawking and shouting grew louder until the creatures resolved to try their luck again, advancing in a wave of arms, legs, teeth, and whirling weapons.

The onslaught of bцgnilim drove Djerun slowly up the stairway until he stopped and opened his visor, steeping his assailants in a beam of purple light. The hall echoed with his terrible, menacing roar and the whimpering bцgnilim fled from the armored giant. Djerun followed them, lashing out with his sword and mace to regain the lost ground.

"He's over there!" Narmora pointed to a man-sized figure in the malachite robes of Nфd'onn's school. He was standing a hundred paces away, flanked by a mob of muscular orcs who served as his bodyguards. It was clear from his gestures that he was responsible for steering the golem's attack.

"They're determined not to let us near the furnace," said Tungdil. Nфd'onn doesn't want us to forge Keenfire. We're on the right track.

Gandogar looked at the swelling ranks of beasts that were piling into the hall. "It's hopeless. The door to the furnace is on the far side of the adjoining hall. It's sealed with dwarven runes so the beasts can't get in. We were almost inside when they ambushed us. They must have known we were coming."

Tungdil's mind whirred feverishly. "Everyone with a role to play in forging Keenfire needs to make it through that door. You or I will go with them. Since I never intended to be crowned high king, I cede my place to you, King Gandogar. My only concern is the safety of Girdlegard and our kinsfolk." He looked his rival in the eye. "Narmora will explain her role in this later, but I need you to promise you'll do everything you can to help her slay the magus."

Gandogar bowed his head. "I swear in the name of Vraccas our Creator and by the memory of Giselbert Ironeye, founding father of this kingdom, that I shall fight the magus to the end." They shook hands. "Which doesn't mean to say you won't be there too," he added.

They turned to face the enemy and raised their weapons. Tungdil placed the bugle to his lips and sounded the attack. Giselbert's Folk, Fifthling Kingdom, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle Djerun led the advance, flanked by the dwarves, with Rodario, torches in both hands, following close behind, shielded by Furgas, who was doing his best to fend off the bцgnilim and protect the precious flames.