Douglas Niles - The Heir of Kayolin

The two black-robed Theiwar arrived unseen, having cast their spells of invisibility before they drank the elixir of teleportation. They could lurk there, unseen, for many hours while they awaited their opportunity. Knowing the Master’s plan, they realized they probably would not even need that much time. They could hear the sounds of excitement and fear from the city streets and understood that events were already in motion.

Facet, however, had provided herself with an additional edge. Back in the laboratory, unknown to her partner, nor even to Willim himself, she had cast a spell that allowed her to detect invisible objects. So though both aspiring assassins were invisible to normal view, Facet remained invisible to her companion, while Gypsum, crouching nearby, revealed himself as a shadowy outline to the female Theiwar.

“Do you hear that?” Gypsum whispered as a rumble of crowd noises billowed from the vast square. Someone shouted commands in a vain attempt to restore order, but from the screams and shouts, it sounded as though a large mob had been seized by panic. Dwarves could be heard scrambling through the square, knocking over tables, jostling and fighting each other as they all tried to flee some unseen disturbance.

“It begins,” Facet replied quietly.

“Be ready to strike at once!” Gypsum ordered haughtily.

“Fear not,” the female wizard replied. “I will be-I am -ready.”

She sat there, still and silent, observing her partner. At the same time, she held the hilt of her knife, gently rubbing her fingers up and down the flat of the silver steel blade.

Though the metropolis of Norbardin lay some six or seven miles from the lake, several winding tunnels and one wide, smooth roadway connected the city to the shore of the Urkhan Sea. Each of the routes was guarded by a small garrison, but the two flanking tunnels lacked any kind of defensive fortifications. Instead, they terminated simply in stone wharves at the shore of the Urkhan Sea. The landings were manned typically by two dozen guards, but the number had been cut in half because of the king’s decision to reinforce his troops in the inner city. Wharf-watching was boring duty, and the sentries at those outposts spent most of their time sleeping, gambling, and drinking; only rarely did one even bother to look out across the dark lake that never changed appearance.

The wide central road had a sturdier protection against attack from the sea. A vast ramp, constructed of timbers brought into the dwarf nation a century earlier, when commerce between the surface and underground worlds was routine, stood like a wall against the shore of the great body of water. Controlled by winches and levers on the landward side, it presented a solid barrier to anyone trying to reach the city from the water.

It was to that ramp that five of Willim’s apprentices had teleported themselves.

Unlike the two side tunnels, the barrier was not garrisoned by the king’s guards, for it was believed that any attempt to breach the ramp would have to be so loud and destructive that a company of defenders from the main gateway, just a few miles away, would have plenty of time to reach the platform before it could be destroyed.

Quickly the Theiwar magic-users went to work, deploying a mixture of spells, magically silenced hammers, and brute strength. They released the locks holding the ramp in place, activated the winches, and, using the weight of the ramp itself to assist them, lowered the huge barrier until the edge dropped right to the surface of the water.

The five apprentices gathered on that ramp, gazing across the Urkhan Sea, straining for a glimpse of movement. Finally they discerned what they were looking for: white wakes trailing away from the bows of a dozen, a score, a hundred boats, all churning toward the city under the power of expertly coordinated oarsmen.

“Here they come,” said the tallest of the magic-users, nodding in satisfaction. The apprentices stood aside and waited for their master’s army to arrive for the assault against Norbardin.

Three Theiwar magic-users, more of Willim’s apprentices, teleported into the middle of the great gatehouse that, after the Urkhan Ramp, was Norbardin’s second line of defense against the potential rampages of a band of feral Klar or any other threat that advanced against the city from the direction of the Urkhan Sea. The displacement of air caused a slight pop of sound, quiet enough that even those guards who were awake didn’t notice anything. Quickly the young wizards-in-training went to work.

One of them descended the long stairway into the largest storage locker, near the front rank of the ramparts. There he found thousands of arrows and crossbow quarrels, casks of oil, bales of tinder to be ignited and tossed from the walls upon enemies, as well as a host of spare armor and weapons. With instant determination, the dark wizard picked out the oil casks and quickly tumbled some of the bales around the large, greasy kegs. When he judged the pile sufficient, he backed off a dozen steps and pointed his finger.

“Igniti!” he hissed, the single magic word bringing a spark to his fingertip. The glowing ember that had materialized drifted through the air and came to rest among the pile of dry tinder. A tiny flame erupted immediately, quickly consuming the fuel, growing in brightness and warmth as it embraced the heavy, flammable casks.

By then, the arsonist was out of the storeroom, scrambling back up the stairs as fast as his short legs could carry him. He met one of his Theiwar companions on top of the ramparts just as a trio of royal guards on routine patrol emerged from a nearby doorway. They gaped in momentary astonishment, startled by the presence of the black-robed dwarves who were lurking just a few paces away.

The second apprentice raised a hand. “Slumbris!” was all he said. The spell of sleep went to work immediately; the guards staggered and dropped to their knees. One was carrying a shield, and the first apprentice leaped forward and caught the metal disk before it could clang onto the floor.

By then, the third of their companions, also operating according to Willim’s instructions, had arrived at the lofty arch over the high gate leading into the city. That gate was currently open, but it pivoted on a pair of massive stone hinges, and could be slammed shut with only brief seconds’ notice.

The last of the apprentices glanced at the hinge and saw that the massive stone slab was poised to turn. He extended a hand and touched the stone.

“Decripis,” he whispered, and immediately that stone began to crumble. As it rotted away, the ten-ton slab of the gate settled onto the ground. It did not move appreciably, but no longer was it ready to be moved easily. Rather, when the gate crew tried to close the gate, they would discover that the entire massive weight of the barrier was resting very comfortably on the ground. It would take about a hundred ogres or a thousand dwarves to budge the gate.

Well satisfied with their work, the apprentice wizards took up their daggers and retired to the shadows of the great gatehouse. They knew that they wouldn’t have long to wait.

The shore of the Urkhan Sea, in most places, rose as a steep slope of rock directly from the waterline toward the looming ceiling above the vast subterranean space. In several places, however, caverns and excavated passages reached the lakeshore and provided access to the large network of tunnels, cities, and food warrens-the living space of Thorbardin’s dwarves. As the fleet of boats approached the shore, General Blade Darkstone divided his army into three groups directed toward three landing sites.

“Row, you worms!” hissed the helmsmen, beating a stealthy rhythm on muted, leather-topped drums. The sound whispered across the lake, almost inaudible beyond a few hundred paces, but the drumbeat kept the boats moving at a steady speed even as the three detachments slowly diverged toward their beachheads.