lot of work had been done. Besides the brush being cut, he and Tomas had been covered by some of the blankets. A pair of snared rabbits hung near the cave mouth with a row of freshly filled waterskins stacked near the fire. ‘You could have woken us,’ Pug said, a note of worry in his voice.
Kulgan shook his head. ‘The Duke wouldn’t have moved until the storm had passed, and that was only a few hours ago. In any event, you and Tomas weren’t the only tired ones here. I doubt even the hearty sergeant there could have gone more than another few miles with only one night’s rest. The Duke will see how things stand tomorrow. I expect we shall leave then, if the weather holds.’
Kulgan stood and, with a small gesture indicating the boys should return to sleep if possible, went to stand beside the Duke. Pug was surprised that, for someone who had slept the day around, he was again tired, though he thought he would fill his stomach before seeking more sleep. Tomas nodded at his unspoken question, and the two scooted over by the fire. One of the soldiers was busy cooking meat and handed them hot portions.
The boys wolfed down the food and after they were done sat back against one wall of the large cave. Pug started to speak to Tomas but was distracted when he caught sight of the guard by the cave’s mouth. A queer look passed over the man’s face as he stood talking to Sergeant Gardan, then his knees buckled. Gardan reached out to catch him, lowering him to the floor. The big sergeant’s eyes widened as he saw the arrow protruding from the man’s side.
Time seemed suspended for an instant, then Gardan shouted, ‘Attack!’
A howling cry sounded from outside the cave’s mouth, and a figure came bounding into the light, jumping over the low brush, then again bounding over the fire, knocking down the soldier cooking meat. It landed a short way from the boys and spun to face those it had leapt past. It was wrapped in a coat and trousers of animal furs. On one arm it bore a battle-scarred buckler-size shield, and in the other a curved sword was held high.
Pug stayed motionless as the creature regarded the company in the cave, a snarl on inhuman lips, eyes glowing with reflected firelight and fangs bared. Tomas’s training asserted itself, and the sword he had clung to over the long march was out of its scabbard in an instant. With a show the creature swung downward at Pug, who rolled sideways, avoiding the blow. The blade rang out as it struck the ground, and Tomas made an off-balance lunge, awkwardly taking the creature low in the chest. It fell to its knees and gurgled as blood filled its lungs, then fell forward.
Other attackers were leaping into the cave and were quickly engaged by the men from Crydee. Curses and oaths sounded, and swords rang out in the close confines of the cave. Guards and attackers stood face-to-face, unable to move more than a few feet. Several of the Duke’s men dropped swords and pulled daggers from their belts, better for close fighting.
Pug grabbed his sword and looked for an attacker, but found none. In the dancing light of the fire, he could see the attackers were outnumbered by the remaining guards, and as two or three men of Crydee grappled with each attacker, it was quickly down and killed.
Suddenly the cave was quiet, save for the heavy breathing of the soldiers. Pug looked and saw only one man down, the one who had taken the arrow. A few others sported light wounds. Kulgan hurried among the men, checking the wounds, then said to the Duke, ‘My lord, we have no other serious injuries.’
Pug looked at the dead creatures. Six of them lay sprawled upon the cave floor. They were smaller than men, but not by much. Above thick browridges, their sloping foreheads were topped by thick black hair. Their blue-green tinged skins were smooth, save for one who had something like a youth’s beard upon his cheeks. Their eyes, open in death, were huge and round, with black irises on yellow. All died with snarls upon their hideous faces, showing long teeth that came close to being fangs.
Pug crossed to Gardan, peering into the gloom of the night for signs of more of the creatures. ‘What are they, Sergeant?’
‘Goblins, Pug. Though I can’t fathom what they are doing this far from their normal range.’
The Duke came to stand next to him and said, ‘Only a half dozen, Gardan. I have never heard of goblins attacking armed men except when the advantage was theirs. This was suicide.’
‘My lord, look here,’ came Kulgan’s call, as he knelt over the body of a goblin. He had pulled away the dirty fur jacket worn by the creature and pointed to a poorly bandaged long, jagged wound on its chest. ‘This was not made by us. It is three, four days old and healing badly.’
Guards inspected the other bodies and reported three others also bore recent wounds, not caused by this fight. One had a broken arm and had fought without a shield.
Gardan said, ‘Sire, they wear no armor. Only the weapons in their hands.’ He pointed to a dead goblin with a bow slung over its back, and an empty quiver at its belt. ‘They had but the one arrow they used to wound Daniel.’
Arutha glanced at the carnage. ‘This was madness. Hopeless madness.’
Kulgan said, ‘Yes, Highness; madness. They were battle weary, freezing, and starved. The smell of cooking meat must have driven them mad. From their appearance I’d say they’ve not eaten in some time. They preferred to gamble all on one last, frantic assault than to watch us eat while they froze to death.’
Borric looked at the goblins again, then ordered his men to take the bodies outside the cave. To no one in particular, he said, ‘But who have they been fighting?’
Pug said, ‘The Brotherhood?’
Borric shook his head. ‘They are the Brotherhood’s creatures, or when not allied against us, they leave one another alone. No, it was someone else.’
Tomas looked around as he joined those by the entrance. He wasn’t as comfortable speaking to the Duke as Pug, but finally he said, ‘My lord, the dwarves?’
Borric nodded. ‘If there’s been a dwarven raid on a nearby goblin village, it would explain why they were unarmored and unprovisioned. They would have grabbed the nearest weapons and fought their way free, fleeing at first chance. Yes, perhaps it was the dwarves.’
The guards who had carried the bodies off into the snow ran back into the cave. ‘Your Grace,’ one of them said, ‘we hear movement in the trees.’
Borric turned to the others. ‘Get ready!’
Every man in the cave quickly readied his weapons. Soon all could hear the tread of feet crunching through the icy snow. It grew louder as they waited, getting closer. Pug stood tensely, holding his sword, pushing down a churning feeling inside.
Suddenly the sounds of footfalls stopped, as those outside halted. Then the sound of a single pair of boots could be heard coming closer. Appearing out of the dark came a figure directly toward the cave. Pug craned his neck to see past the soldiers, and the Duke said, ‘Who passes this night?’
A short figure, no more than five feet tall, pulled back the hood of his cloak, revealing a metal helm sitting over a shock of thick brown hair. Two sparkling green eyes reflected the firelight. Heavy brows of brown-red hair came together at a point above a large hooked nose. The figure stood regarding the party, then signaled behind. More figures appeared from out of the night, and Pug pressed forward to get a better view, Tomas at his side. At the rear they could see several of the arrivals leading mules.
The Duke and soldiers visibly relaxed, and Tomas said, ‘They’re dwarves!’
Several of the guards laughed, as did the closest
