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Blacksaddle, Kingdom of Gauragar, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle Tungdil glanced up and saw Narmora on the walkway.

The sight of her impaled on Caphalor's swords filled him with helpless rage. Meanwhile, Nфd'onn was descending the final steps of the staircase only paces away from Tungdil and the others. They were running out of time. We'll be lost without Keenfire.

"I'll get the ax," he shouted to Balyndis. "Keep the orcs busy and watch out for Nфd'onn. Andфkai will have to take care of him until I get back."

The firstling nodded grimly and felled a beast that was about to lunge at Tungdil. "Hurry!" Tungdil detached himself from the scrum and blew his horn to summon the warriors of the three dwarven folks who were fighting in the other halls. His call was answered by blaring bugles and the sound of dwarven axes on orcish mail. He hoped that the upsurge in fighting would preoccupy the enemy and allow him to slip past unnoticed.

"Vraccas, your name will be worshipped forever if you help me now." He finished his quick prayer, took a deep breath, and charged into the jumble of stinking armor and legs.

No matter how tempting it was to clear a path with his ax, he knew that his safety depended on stealth. Crouching low, he tried to scurry past the beasts without brushing against them. It would have been easy for a scrawny gnome like Sverd, but Tungdil was considerably broader.

Every now and then he was spotted by an orc, but he kept moving to avoid being caught. Twice he was seized by a clawed hand and had to use his ax to slice his way free.

At last he reached the place where Keenfire had fallen to the ground. He scanned the flagstones, but the ax had vanished.

"Tungdil, I've got something for you. Over here!" He turned in time to see the back of a dwarven warrior disappear from view. Keenfire's ax head glittered in his hands. "Come and get it."

This is no time for silly games. Tungdil set off in pursuit, dragging his wounded leg across the floor. He left the muddle of orcish shins and made for the shelter of a pillar. The beasts rushed on, too focused on defeating the dwarven army to notice what was unfolding behind them.

To his surprise, the dwarf turned and held out Keenfire toward him. Tungdil stared at him in bewilderment. "You?"

"Looking for this?" asked Bislipur. His body was twisted out of shape, his face a mass of shattered bone. Judging by his fractured skull, he had fallen from a great height. Tungdil could barely stand to look at him.

"I see you've been punished for your plotting, then," he said grimly, gripping his ax in readiness. He must he a revenant. "I told King Gandogar-"

"I don't give a damn about Gandogar."

"You lowered yourself to all kinds of trickery to have him crowned and now he means nothing to you?"

"All I ever cared about was having a high king who would do my bidding, a high king whom I could control." He swung the ax playfully. "A war against the elves-that's what I wanted. I even murdered Gandogar's father and brother so I could blame the elves and stoke his fury. How was I to know that I wouldn't need the pointy-ears? It's turned out better than I expected." He pointed to the dwarves locked in combat around them and laughed. "Don't you get it, Tungdil?" he said, noticing the other's uncomprehending stare. "I'm a thirdling-and so are you."

"No," whispered Tungdil. The shouts, screams, and ringing metal seemed to fade into nothingness as he stared into Bislipur's knowing eyes. He tried not to remember how he had initially felt drawn to him. "A thirdling? But I can't be. I'm a fourthling, a dwarf of Goпmdil."

"Like me, you mean?" Bislipur laughed in his face. "Tungdil, our destiny is revenge. Lorimbur was scorned by his brothers. They wouldn't share their talents and they mocked the thirdlings because they thought they were better. The gifts they received from Vraccas made them arrogant like the elves. Don't you see how they treated you?" He took a step forward. "Noble Gundrabur and his loyal counselor, Balendilнn, used you to suit their purpose. Why else do you think they were interested in you? If Lot-Ionan's letter had arrived at any other time, they would never have bothered fetching you from the long-uns. That's how much they care! They're worthless, every last one of them. They all deserve to die."

Tungdil felt the words cut into his heart and found himself succumbing to Bislipur's hypnotic stare. "No," he said hesitantly. "Balyndis…"

Bislipur laughed spitefully. "So you've fallen for someone, have you? And how do you think she'll react when she finds out you're a dwarf killer and a traitor? Your future is with the thirdlings, not here. You'll die with the others if you stay."

"A traitor?" Tungdil stared at the battle in sudden understanding. At last he grasped the full meaning of Bislipur's words. "It was you! You betrayed us to Nфd'onn!"

"Nфd'onn is a great ally, the greatest. I promised him that the thirdlings would do nothing to stop him, provided that the other kingdoms were destroyed. It was the perfect opportunity."

Tungdil swallowed and tightened his grip on his ax. "You're crazy. You delivered up Girdlegard just because-"

"No!" the thirdling screeched suddenly. "Not just because of anything! This is our destiny! For thousands of cycles we've been waiting for a moment like this. No deed could be more glorious, Tungdil. Our folk, the dwarves of Lorimbur, will rule all five ranges of Girdlegard once the others are dead!"

"I don't want anything to do with you or your folk! I came here to stop Nфd'onn and save the dwarves. I don't belong to Lorimbur!"

"You're one of us," Bislipur told him fiercely. "I knew it from the moment I saw you. Look inside your heart and embrace your hatred. You're a thirdling, believe me."

"Believe you? Why should I believe a traitor?" Tungdil glared at him scornfully and took a deep breath. "Now give me Keenfire."

Bislipur stared at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"So Nфd'onn can be killed. As for your punishment, I'll leave that to Gandogar and the others to decide."

"It's like that, is it?" He thumped the ax regretfully. "I'm afraid I'll have to kill you, Tungdil. You risked everything for Keenfire, and now the weapon will be your death. It seems a shame to-"

Tungdil raised his ax without warning, but Bislipur countered his blow. From then on, both dwarves fought mercilessly, but neither could win the upper hand.

"So you still think you're not a thirdling, do you?" the traitor asked mockingly. "How else would you have learned to fight so well in such a short space of time? You were born a warrior."

"No!" thundered Tungdil, slashing at him furiously. "I'll never be a thirdling."

The two axes collided, and Keenfire shattered Tungdil's weapon. The ax head spun into the air and struck Tungdil's nose guard with enough force to make him see stars.

Bislipur didn't wait for him to recover, but moved in fast. Tungdil tried to step out of the way and stumbled. At the last moment he pulled Bislipur with him, and they wrestled each other to the ground.

The battle continued on the floor, the two dwarves hacking at each other until Keenfire fell from Bislipur's grasp. He whipped out a dagger and rammed it into Tungdil's arm. Gasping, Tungdil grabbed his knife and plunged it into Bislipur's throat.

"You're wasting your time," Bislipur said derisively. "See what Balendilнn did to me? He couldn't kill me; the Perished Land wouldn't let him." He landed a punch that knocked off Tungdil's helmet, then seized his chance to scramble to safety. A well-aimed kick sent Tungdil's knife flying out of his hand. "It's not a fair fight, Tungdil, and you're about to lose."

His fingers wound their way into Tungdil's hair and hauled him up. "I'll give you one last chance because you're a thirdling," he snarled. "Do you want to die with the other scum, or come back with me and celebrate our victory?"