Black wizards - Douglas Niles [131]
"Did you learn anything more about her?" inquired Hugh.
"As you suspected, she is a druid. Apparently she flew here all the way from Gwynneth in the shape of an eagle.
Tristan followed the conversation with growing interest.
"I would like to meet this druid. Do you know her name?"
"She didn't tell me – she was very weak. But even so" smiled the cleric, "she was very beautiful. And young, with long, raven-black hair"
Tristan leaped to his feet. "I must see her! Where is she?"
* * * * *
Finellen cursed the underground confines that prevented her from deploying all three of her companies. The duergar had chosen their lair well. It had three points of access, but all of these were controlled by narrow chokepoints. As yet, none of Finellen's dwarves had been able to get inside and scout the place.
They had a rough idea of its size from the placement of the entrances, however. Finellen was certain that it didn't contain more than three hundred duergar – and those were comfortable odds for her own three hundred fighters.
The duergar lair was a complex of central caverns surrounded by narrow tunnels. In one tunnel, a deep gorge blocked the pathway, while in the other two, steep upward climbs were necessary to enter the duergar stronghold. Finellen had one of her companies posted at each entrance.
A shiver ran down her spine as the trumpets blared the call to attack. Each of the companies roared to the attack, and she heard the clash of steel down all three caverns. She cursed the responsibility that kept her out of the fighting, waiting with several messengers at this intersection of caves, but she understood the necessity for it. It was difficult enough to control scattered formations in any battle, but in an underground conflict like this one, visual communication would be impossible. Hence, she had to wait here, listening for word of the progress or setbacks of each of her three companies so that she could send help quickly to wherever it might be needed.
The sounds of battle grew faint – a good sign, as that meant the dwarves had crossed the initial barriers of defense in each tunnel. For an agonizing hour Finellen heard little, and she began to hope that the battle was won.
But then the din of clashing steel grew more distinct. Louder and louder, the noise swelled from the tunnels. Now she heard the cries of wounded, and the horrible battle noise of the duergar all around her. There was no doubt what was happening.
Her companies were being forced to retreat.
* * * * *
Robyn could not go back to sleep. Images of the black, sharp-beaked birds tormented her every time she closed her eyes.
"Robyn?"
"Yazilliclick?" She looked around. "Where are you?"
"Oh, I'm so glad you're awake," cried the faerie, popping into sight on the footboard of the large bed. "I was so worried about you, Robyn. Those men brought you here, and I couldn't stop them, but I hoped they'd help you. I think they did – they did."
She held up her hand, but couldn't help smiling. "Thank you for staying with me," she said. "Where's Newt?"
"F-food! He went to get us something to eat – to eat!"
"We'll be lucky to get anything but the bones," sighed the druid, reassured to have friends beside her in this strange place. Then she laughed as she saw the faerie dragon hovering outside the window, trying to hold his altitude and a large haunch of roast at the same time.
She crossed to the window and opened it, lifting the mutton from the dragon as he dove through the opening and collapsed on the bed. "Boy, is that cook ever a sourpuss! You wouldn't believe the things he threw at me while I was minding my own business, getting a little supper!" The dragon stifled a laugh. "I fixed him, though – you should have seen his face when I used my spell!"
"What did you do?" asked Robyn, a little worried.
"I made it look like maggots were crawling out of all his meat. He was sure upset! It was great fun! Now, can we go home? Or find Tristan, or something? I'm bored!"
"N-Newt! Let Robyn rest!" said Yazilliclick