As he talked and talked he saw the stars wander above the glittering mosaics and watched as the dark sky turned a deep shade of blue, the moon paling as the horizon glowed red. Finally, as the sun rose above Girdlegard, sending its rays through the banks of snow-laden cloud, he concluded his report.

Liъtasil's blue eyes had not left him for an instant: He had listened to every word. "I see," he said slowly. "So it started as a contest for the succession and became a mission of far greater consequence. I can see from your faces that the journey has been testing."

"Indeed it has, Lord Liъtasil. The dangers were many, but we survived, and now we're here." Andфkai rose, eyes flashing impatiently, her stormy temperament unwilling to tolerate further delay. "We're running out of time. You've heard what we have to say; make your decision while we still have the choice. Girdlegard will be lost if we don't act soon." She took a step forward, knowing full well how imposing she looked. "What have you decided, Liъtasil?" Her eyes searched his handsome face. "What have the elves decided?"

IX

Underground Network, Elven Kingdom of Вlandur, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle Unbelievable!" Boпndil had no intention of letting the matter go. He sat down heavily in a wagon. "How can they need more time? Time to think about what? I've never heard anything so ridiculous! They'll be sorry when Nфd'onn rules Girdlegard and the дlfar chop down their forest to make a bonfire! They won't need time for thinking then!" He thumped the handrail angrily. "I'd like to slice four of those elv-er, orcs-in two!"

What a blow for Gundrabur, thought Tungdil disappointedly. He took a seat beside the warrior. "I know how you feel," he confessed. "I thought Liъtasil would overrule the doubters, but obviously I was wrong."

Furgas, who had been examining the track, took a few steps into the tunnel to assess the condition of the rail. "It looks pretty solid. There's a bit of rust, but nothing serious. It's almost as good as new." Satisfied, he returned to the wagon and sat down beside Narmora. "Let the journey begin."

The company had stayed the night in the forest while the elves were conferring. Вlandur's beds were the softest in Girdlegard, which suited the humans very well. The dwarves, unaccustomed to such luxury, had slept badly and woken up with sore backs. After a simple breakfast, they had packed their things and set out in search of the tunnel. The trapdoor, built into a boulder and camouflaged by a thicket of ferns, had opened without a hitch. Once inside, they had discovered four empty wagons and a ramp.

"Finished," said Rodario, putting away his quill. "You'll be pleased to know that the elves play a none-too-courageous role in this epic." He beamed at them. "Girdlegard will hear how the warriors of Вlandur declined to come to its rescue."

"At least we found the entrance to the tunnel," Balyndis said brightly, trying to lift the mood.

Boпndil ran his finger experimentally along his blades. "I suppose that's something. The question is, will we reach our destination, or end up being ambushed and eaten by a war band of orcs?" A menacing smile crept over his face. "Don't worry, my axes will take care of them. I'm longing to slit their runty throats." As always on such occasions, he glanced sharply at Djerun to remind him not to interfere.

Tungdil turned to Narmora, who seemed calmer now that they were leaving. "How are you feeling?"

She smiled. "Better. It was hard for me in the forest, surrounded by so much elvishness. I've got my mother to blame for that."

He cleared his throat. "Are you nervous?"

"About the showdown with Nфd'onn?" She squeezed Furgas's hand. "No, not really-although once the magus is standing in front of me it will be a different story. Still, I've rehearsed what to do, so it should be all right."

"Of course it will be all right!" roared Boпndil. "We'll pop up behind the army and plow through the ranks. Before the runts know what's hit them, you'll whip out Keenfire and strike the magus in the back. He'll die, and Girdlegard will be saved!"

Narmora smiled. "A fine plan, but I'd like to try something a little more daring. How about I pretend to be an дlf? I can play the part to perfection. I'll be able to get past Nфd'onn's guards and apprentices without arousing suspicion."

"I don't mean to be rude," Andфkai said doubtfully, "but why would Nфd'onn be interested in an ordinary дlf? You'll never get close enough."

Narmora rearranged her head scarf. "I'll think of something."

Of course! Tungdil broke into a grin. He had just remembered a story from one of Lot-Ionan's books. The heroes had used a simple but effective trick that could work for them as well. "He'll be interested, all right, when you deliver the hostages that he's been waiting for."

"What kind of hostages?" asked Boпndil. Then it dawned on him. "What? You want us to give ourselves up?" he protested. "No, we'll fight our way through like I said!"

"My dear fellow," Rodario interrupted sweetly, "I don't wish to reawaken painful memories, but remember what happened in the fifthling kingdom? Your axes made little impression on the hordes of baying beasts."

"Precisely my point." Tungdil nodded. "We'll be outnumbered. That's why Rodario, Furgas, and Andфkai will pretend to be mercenaries who helped Narmora to capture us. Djerun will have to stay here; his presence would give us away."

"It's a risky strategy, but it might just work," Andфkai said earnestly. "I'm in favor."

Rodario tapped his lip pensively. "Haven't I read something like that before?"

"Do you mean The Death of Herengard? In the story the heroes need to kill the evil monarch. They use the same tactic and it works," explained Tungdil, owning up to his source.

"You mean you borrowed it from a book?" Boпndil protested, aghast. "But you can't-"

"Remember what I told you when we met? Reading is important!" Tungdil clapped the warrior on the back. "Maybe you'll believe me now. Let's have a show of hands."

The motion was passed with only one objection. Offended at not being listened to, Boпndil sulked in silence, not even cheering and whooping when the wagon plunged downhill.

Tungdil chose not to mention the end of the story: King Herengard's valiant killers had been slain by his guards. It was a good strategy nonetheless.

Once again their journey took them deep below the surface of Girdlegard. They were headed for the Blacksaddle, where Nфd'onn was mustering his army of orcs and other vile beasts.

Little did they know that the tunnel was preparing to surprise them again.

On rounding a corner, they saw upturned wagons and mounds of orcish corpses piled on both sides of the rail. There must have been at least two hundred bodies in all. They couldn't stop because of the momentum, so they leaned out of the wagon to get a better look.

"By my beard, this is the work of axes if ever I saw it," growled Boпndil. "You can bet they were slaughtered by dwarves. Our kinsfolk must be doing better than we thought."

"It seems funny to be fighting in the tunnels when there's a perfectly good stronghold in the Blacksaddle. Why haven't they ensconced themselves there?" Tungdil dangled over the side to inspect the corpses, which were stacked neatly away from the rail. Someone wanted to make sure that nothing and no one got in our way. He was instantly reminded of the spirits whom they had encountered twice before. "The ghosts! They helped us in the fifthling kingdom, remember?"

Balyndis pointed to a niche in the tunnel, where a small figure lay contorted on the floor. An orcish spear protruded from its side. "That's not a ghost!" she said. "Ghosts don't have corpses."