Dennis McCiernan - Into the Forge

– Dwarves! They 're Dwarves! Although Tip had never before seen a Dwarf, there was no doubt whatsoever in his mind.

But they 're outnumbered nineteen to five! Even as the thought crossed his awareness, a Hlok sprang at the back of one of the savagely cleaving Dwarves. Without conscious thought Tip loosed his first arrow, the shaft sissing past the riving Dwarf to slam into the left eye of the Hlok, the Spawn pitching backward and falling dead ere he could deliver the blow.

"Blut vor blut!" shrilled Tipperton in ancient Twyll as he nocked another arrow and loosed, this time felling a backstabbing Ruck.

But the Dwarves were ferocious in their devastation, axes shearing through muscle and gut and sinew and bone alike, tissue and blood and viscera flying wide, limbs and necks and even torsos hacked entirely through with but a single blow. Fully more than half the foe had been felled by these cleaving blades.

Squealing in fear, the surviving Spawn turned to flee, running in panic toward the woods just as a tiny figure bearing a sling burst forth from the trees.

"For Tipperton!" he shrieked, and whipped his arm about, a leaden bullet flying through the moonlight to strike the foremost foe in the head, and the Spawn crashed to the ground, tumbling down as if he'd been hit by a sledge.

And as the slingster reloaded, two sword-bearing Elves lunged out from the shadowy forest, dire steel glinting with the promise of death.

Even as the Elves leapt forward, Aiee! screamed the Rupt and turned aside, but then-Chakka shok! Chdkka cor!-the Dwarves were among them again, severing, riving, slaughtering.

In blood and gore the battle ended, and nineteen scattered Spawn lay dead: three by arrow, two by sling, two by Elven blade, and twelve by Dwarven axe.

"Nevertheless," said Phais, " 'twas a foolish thing to do."

"But I thought they'd got Tip," replied Beau, applying salve to the cut on a black-haired Dwarf's upper arm.

"Even so," countered Phais, "to cast thine own life heedlessly to the winds without knowing the number and makeup of the foe is to court disaster. Had Tipperton merely been captive, then thine action could have led to his demise rather than to his rescue."

"She's right, bucco, and you know it," said Tip. "Were I dead or captive or completely free-as was the case-you could have been killed running out of the woods like that and challenging the whole lot of them." ' The Dwarf cleared his throat, then grated, "Had they slain you, healer, still your honor would have been intact. Like you, I find skulking about in the shadows untasty. Even so, there are times when it is necessary."

Beau ripped a strip of linen from the bandage roll. "Oh, Raggi, I don't mind skulking about. I mean, who better than a Warrow at skulking, eh? But in this case, if I had a thought at all, it was that Tip needed help." Beau turned to Tipperton. "Look, I know the point you're making, and you and Phais and everyone else who's likely to talk to me about this, well, you all are right… yet let me ask you: can you honestly say you'd have done any differently?"

Tip's sapphirine eyes flew wide, and he looked at his friend. Finally he said, "I don't know, Beau, since it didn't happen that way. Perhaps the only difference would have been that I would have come charging out with bow and arrow rather than with bullet and sling."

"Well, then, shut your gob," said Beau, turning again toward the Dwarf, who rocked back and roared in laughter, then glanced over to a companion and said, "De tak au cho va Waeran at cha te og hauk va lok mak au va Grg, ut ven tak dek ba luk der gur."

Now the other Dwarf roared in laughter.

"What did you say?" asked Beau, wrapping muslin about the arm.

"I simply told Bolki what your comrades had said to you, and then I told him your reply."

Only two of the Dwarves had taken cuts in battle- Raggi and Bolki-and finding that Beau was a healer, the captain of the Dwarves, Ralk, had ordered them to follow Beau back to where the horses were tethered. And so Tip and Phais and Beau set out with the wounded, while Loric went with Ralk and Vekk and Born to fetch their ponies.

Upon reaching the encampment, at Beau's direction Phais had built a small sheltered fire and placed a kettle above, and Beau had fetched his medical bag and set about patching up the Dwarves. With tepid water from the kettle, he had thoroughly cleansed their wounds, then stitched the cuts closed: a leg wound on Bolki-who didn't speak Common, but only Chakur, the Dwarven tongue-and a slash high on the arm of Raggi. Then he had applied a salve to each and bandaged them in linen, Bolki first, Raggi now.

Even as he wound the cloth 'round Raggi's arm, Loric stepped from among the enshadowed trees and into the camp, Dwarves leading ponies coming after.

Beau looked up at the Elf and said, "I know, I know, it was stupid, but we've already covered that ground."

As Loric frowned and canted his head in puzzlement, Raggi burst out in laughter again, turning to Bolki and rattling off a string of Chakur, Bolki to laugh as well.

Through the silvery moonlight streaming down among the trees, Tip looked closely at the five Dwarves. But for their heights-ranging from four foot seven to five foot two-and their clothing and hair color, they all seemed much the same to Tip. Come on, now, bucco, that's like Big Folk saying all Warrows look alike just because we're small.

Even so, to Tipperton's eye all the Dwarves were broad-shouldered, half again as wide as Loric, and they all bore double-bitted war axes, the oaken hafts with soft brass strips embedded along their lengths to catch at any foe's blade so it could be twisted aside, and at the axe head the helve was tipped with a cruel iron beak made for stabbing through armor. Each of the Dwarves wore a dark cloak, earthen-colored-brown, deep russet, dark grey-yet under their cloaks they all wore black-iron chainmail shirts, matching the black-iron of their plain helms. They were dressed in leather breeks and boots, and under their armor they wore quilted shirts made of a silken cloth.

As to their features, they all seemed fierce of face, hair down to their shoulders, some braided, others loose. Their beards whether braided or not were forked and reached down to the mid of their chests. As Tip had noted, each had hair of a different color: Raggi's black to go with his black eyes; Bolki's a honey brown, and he had hazel eyes; Vekk had brown hair, too, but darker than Bolki's; Born's hair looked to be ginger; and Ralk's hair was a dark auburn shot through with grey. As to the eye colors of these latter three, Tip did not know, for after the Elves and Warrows had made themselves known to the Dwarves back at the ruins of Annory, Loric had gone off with that trio, and Tip was just now seeing them in a placid setting, where the dregs of battle and dead maggot-folk did not catch at the heart and the eye.

Ralk looked at the fire and said, "It would not do for us to be caught as were the Grg. Even so"-he reached into a saddlebag and withdrew a packet-"ere you quench the flames, we could all use a good mug of tea."

Loric grinned and reached for the packet, and Ralk said, "Vekk and Born and I will stand ward." He turned to the other two Dwarves and hefted his axe and grunted, "Trekant."

They set off in three different directions.

Tip stood and stepped to the ponies and began unloading them. Phais joined him, and soon they were rubbing down the animals with twisted sheaves of grass.

"A mission to Aven."

"Aye," replied Loric, nodding to Ralk.

"Ooo," said Beau, "that reminds me…" Fishing under his collar, Beau removed the thong with its pewter token from 'round his neck and gave it over to Tip. Tip took the disk and sighed, then slipped the leather cord over his head and tucked the coin 'neath his jerkin.