Douglas Niles - Circle at center

The Seer woman threw the lamp, hard, against the floor between the two attackers. Instantly the ceramic shattered and a splash of oil swept around the burning wick. Flames leapt onto the legs and bellies of the two Delvers, who screamed and dropped their blades as they desperately swiped at their fiery armor.

Darann was already running, into the water room with its stout door of sheet steel. She slammed the door shut and slapped the lock into place before running out the other side, to find herself in the kitchen. Immediately she stopped, listening, smelling, trying to see through the murky air of the den.

Some light spilled from the fire that had spread to engulf the bedchamber. The brightness was enhanced by the appearance of a burning Delver who stumbled from that chamber to sprawl, flailing and crying out, across the floor of the main room. Another Blind One, cursing the noise and hysteria, slashed his daggers into the burning form of his cohort. The injured dwarf cried out, then groaned as the attacker, locating the neck, drove the blade in a thrust that instantly silenced his shrieking companion.

Darann’s arrival in the kitchen hadn’t been heard or smelled yet. She counted five or six Delvers poking through the main room, grasping at her belongings, jabbing at the walls, finding and breaking down the doors to the storage room and the pantry.

“Silence!”

The command hissed through the room and immediately the Delvers ceased all activity.

For the first time Darann’s attention turned to the speaker, an Unmirrored Dwarf who stood in shadowy darkness in the alcove leading from the portico. She heard a gurgling breath, and knew this was the intruder she had sensed initially. He came forward and in the dim illumination she saw that he did not wear the full-face masks of his underlings. This Delver’s moist red nostrils were exposed, and his jaws, while shiny and metallic, moved flexibly when he spoke.

“There is one Seer here… a female,” said the snuffling Delver. “There!”

She knew that he had found her, was somehow indicating her location to the other Delvers-though she didn’t know how. Two of the armored dwarves advanced toward the wide arch leading into the kitchen. Her fear thrummed between her ears, and Darann knew that she was gasping for breath, making more noise that she should. Yet even if she could have willed herself completely silent, in these close quarters the Blind Ones would be able to find her by scent alone.

Not daring to take her eyes from the archway, but knowing the cooking surface well, she reached back and snatched up a cleaver and a long-bladed knife. One of the blades clinked against the metal oven, however, and a Delver, weapons whirling, charged toward the sound. Darann screamed as she brought down the cleaver, gouging deep into the Blind One’s wrist. The attacker grunted, but ignored the pain to slash the dagger in his other hand toward her face.

Some instinct of preservation had compelled her to raise her own knife, and the two blades clinked together. The strength of the Delver astonished her-the force of his blow knocked Darann backward two or three steps. The wounded dwarf charged after as she swung the cleaver again. This time the blade bit into the gap between the Delver’s helmet and his shoulder plate. With a gasp he collapsed, dragging the weapon from Darann’s hand.

The second attacker came on more slowly, feeling with his feet to avoid tripping over the body of his companion. All the while his triple-bladed daggers whirled before him, effectively blocking any attempt Darann could have made at stabbing him. Instead, she backed up another step, casting around for some avenue of escape.

She found herself staring into a face of unspeakable horror. Wide red nostrils flared wetly as the Delver reached out to pin her arms to her sides. Jaws of fleshless metal gaped into a grin, and he chortled between teeth that were sharpened steel points growing right out of the bloody bone of his gums.

Darann couldn’t help herself-she screamed, a full-throated yell that exploded from her lungs and pierced the air of the den. Panic gave her strength, and she kicked and spat, trying to force herself out of that crushing grasp.

The grotesque Delver only threw back his head and laughed, a wet sound of cruel amusement. Like the others, he had a smooth face-plate over his forehead and the place where his eyes should be, but there the similarity ended. This Blind One revealed his wide nostrils, which flared obscenely as though seeking Darann’s essence. And then there was that horrid mouth, as if a metallic coating had been melted over the creature’s teeth and jaws, then forged into razor-edged fangs. The dwarfwoman sobbed and thrashed, knowing that those teeth could snap forward and tear out her throat at a momentary whim.

“Cease the attack-I, Zystyl, have claimed the prisoner!” cried the Delver captain.

Vaguely Darann was aware that she was still clutching the long-bladed knife. She squirmed, trying to raise her hand. As if he sensed the weapon, the Blind One reached down and twisted her wrist. With a gasp of pain she dropped the blade, then slumped against the counter as he pressed her back.

“Find the male-kill him, however you want!” hissed Zystyl. “This one is mine!”

A bright red tongue snaked from his mouth, licking along Darann’s cheek, probing roughly against her eye. “Cry, wench!” he demanded. “I would taste your tears!”

Darann moaned and tried to turn away, but those hands were too strong. She was sobbing, and felt a fleeting impulse to hurl herself onto a weapon, to end her life before this monster could work his unspeakable tortures. But even if she’d made this choice, Zystyl’s grasp was too firm.

And then coolfyre blazed through the den, sending all the rooms into brilliant relief. Karkald was there, charging in from the portico path. He had thrown a globe of the light onto the floor, and the glass had shattered with a light pop.

“The male!” shrieked Zystyl. “He has lighted us!”

Delvers rushed from the other rooms, but Karkald didn’t wait for them to come to him. He lunged, holding his spear by the shaft and deftly plunging the weapon between the whirling daggers of a Blind One. That dwarf went down, but the Seer was already spinning away, bringing his hammer down on a black-armored skull, then throwing his hatchet through the air. The sharp-bladed weapon punctured the face-plate of another Delver, burying itself in the exposed flesh of his wide nose.

Darann’s captor sniffed at the air, relaxing his grip on Darann as he tried to locate Karkald. She saw her chance and kicked him hard, in the knee. With an oath he stumbled away, and she snatched up the cleaver she had dropped and dashed across the room, hacking the blade into the neck of a Delver who was approaching Karkald from behind. That enemy fell and she stumbled over the body to lean against her husband’s strong arm.

“Are you all right?” he gasped, his eyes wide with fear-for her, she realized. Even as he spoke he used his weapons with deft skill, chopping away another Delver, then sidling forward to stand before his wife.

But now more Delvers spilled through the passage Karkald himself had used-a dozen or more who had pursued him from the portico. Across the den Zystyl limped out of the kitchen. His nostrils sought, opening and closing, tasting the air until that gruesome face fixed itself upon Darann.

“She is there,” the Blind One said quietly. “Bring her to me, and make sure that you spare her eyes until she has watched her mate die.”

Karkald raised his weapons, but now he faced a full circle of Delvers. Grimly, with snorts of triumph, they closed in.