Black wizards - Douglas Niles [148]
And the water turned black.
XX
Fire
The dwarves emerged from the wide cave mouth, tramping slowly into the light of the sun. Their bodies were bent from weariness, and their grizzled heads were bowed by their defeat. Finellen was the last one to emerge. The dark dwarves hated the sun, but she knew they would not be far behind in pursuit of an ultimate victory.
And this they could earn. The dwarven captain's heart burned with pain as she looked at her warriors. The dwarves had formed into lines, awaiting their captain – but there were less than half of the original three hundred left.
"Let's find a place to finish it," she said loudly enough for them all to hear. None of them had any illusions about their inevitable fate – the thousands of duergar that pursued them would not let them escape.
The cave mouth was near the sea, on the western coast of Alaron. They stood upon a rocky headland with many jutting promontories. In some places, high cliffs dropped to the wavebeaten shore. Finellen did not immediately see a place to make her stand, so she turned to the weary dwarves again.
"Let's march!"
Turning to the north, with the sea to their left, the ragged column began to trudge along the coast.
* * * * *
The companions fled through the forest, following the path that Robyn created, for a day and a night before they rested. Then they collapsed in a dark grove of pines, haunted by the memories of the battle and the rout. For much of their flight, the screams of doomed and dying men had echoed through the woods behind them. They knew that the Scarlet Guard was pursuing the defeated army.
"What are we going to do?" asked Daryth, removing his boots to rub his swollen feet. Pawldo and Fiona had already dropped off to sleep, but Robyn and Tristan sat up on a cushion of needles, resting their aching legs. Canthus stood alert at the edge of the grove.
"I've been thinking about that," said the prince, exhaustion plain in his voice. "Our only chance is to catch as many of the survivors as possible and try to rally them. We'll need to find a town or a crossroads and wait there."
"We've made good time," nodded the Calishite. "I'm sure we've outdistanced most of the men of Doncastle."
Tristan slumped onto his back. Their whole plan seemed so tenuous that he could not dispel a sense of defeat. But the plan was all they had.
They rested for an hour before wearily climbing to their feet to resume the march. Before long they found a track in the woods and followed it to the southwest. Another track joined it, and the primitive road led them into a wide glen in the forest. Here they found a little village surrounded by pastureland. The forest continued beyond, except to the north. There, a lowland of dead trees extended as far as they could see.
"They've been flooded and drowned," Robyn said sadly.
They entered the tiny hamlet. A dozen thatch-roofed cottages clustered, amid their pastures, on the bank of a winding and placid stream. Robyn led the way up the muddy track.
"Where is everybody?" wondered Pawldo. There was not a soul visible. Even the cattle were gone from the fields.
Robyn stopped and listened. Tristan could hear nothing.
"Look!" cried Fiona, pointing to the path from Dernall Forest. A file of men emerged, trudging wearily along the trail. The muddy, broken soldiers fell into the shade of the trees, collapsing in exhaustion. Steadily, the weary men of Doncastle reached the open ground and stopped to rest.
But then a figure emerged from the forest who did not stoop, who did not march bowed by defeat and exhaustion.
"Alexei!" cried the prince, running to meet the sorcerer.
"It is good to see you all – alive," said the mage. "Many were not so fortunate."
"O'Roarke?" asked Tristan.
"I don't know. Maybe he's with