"As you will, my friend," said Brud, "and I bid you good night." The captain then stepped away, leaving Tip alone… but for the men of the night watch ringing the ramparts all 'round.

And after long moments more, Tip resumed his pacing and fretting, and ever did his eye turn to the south where stood the ridge-Where are Valk and his army? Have they fallen to ill fortune?-but a signal, if any, would come in the deeps ere dawn, awhile from now.

Candlemarks fled, false dawn came and went, and then the fires of the Swarm disappeared completely, as if they had all been… snuffed out.

And about the city, the great Rucken drums began to beat.

What…?

More candlemarks eked by, and then Tip heard What is it?

– under the thud of drums I can almost make out…

– a squeak and rumble, as of axles turned by ponderous wheels.

And peering by starlight he could see… shadow on shadow… motion… something dark in the dark moving… something huge.

Oh lor', the siege engines!

In that moment a bugle sounded within the walls, a bugle answered by another, and another still.

It was a call to arms.

A call to muster.

A call to defend the walls.

And these clarions were answered by the blats of maggot-folk horns and the howls of the Swarm raised in a wordless collective yawl. thwack!

From the darkness a fireball rose up and, whooshing and sputtering, hurtled overhead to crash down in the city, other fireballs from other quadrants raining down as well.

"Modru, you skut, you liar!" shouted Tipperton out through the castellated ramparts just west of the southern gate. "You said we would have a day to decide!"

"He is a deceiver," said a voice beside him, and Tip turned to see Mage Delander at hand. thwack!

Another fireball rose up, and Tip groaned to see by its sputtering light hundreds of Rucks haling on ropes and wheeling the lofty siege towers toward the walls, while other Foul Folk drew a mighty ram across the snow and toward the gate below. thwack!

Men poured through the streets of the city and up the ramps to the walls, while others rushed to and fro below, some to battle the fires, others on errands unknown.

Tip heard the sound of a liquid thickly gurgling, as of a heavy stream runnelling, and odor rose up-reeking of oil-from the walls below.

At Tip's frown, Delander said, "They fill the dry moat with what oil they have to ring the city with fire; as long as it burns it should keep the Rupt from using their scaling ladders, though I'm afraid it will not stop the towers." thwack!

"What about the rams?"

"Flaming oil will be poured down through the murder holes," replied the Mage. "Even so it will stop them but awhile, for the supply is limited."

"How long will it burn, the moat I mean?"

"Wood, brush, whatever will kindle will be cast into the moat to make the fires endure, but even so, as a great flaming barrier to bar the Rupt, it will not last overlong." thwack!

Drums thudding, horns blaring, onward came the howling Swarm, and rumbling in their midst, axles squealing in protest, the great towers trundled forward… and so, too, did the rams. And still the trebuchets cast fiery missiles over the walls and into the city beyond.

"My Lord Mage, look!" cried a voice.

And Tip turned to see a soldier pointing out beyond the walls, beyond the Swarm, where in the darkness to the south an arrow aflame streaked up in the night from the ridge afar.

As the burning arrow arced scarlet high through the dark of the predawn sky, "Swift now," called Mage Delander to the captain of the ward, "send a courier to King Agron. Tell him the Dwarves have come."

Within but heartbeats a runner raced down the ramp and leapt astride a waiting horse, as-thwack!-another fireball sputtered overhead, hurled by a Spaunen catapult, the blazing mass to burst apart upon striking a roof in the city, flaming rivulets of fire splattering outward.

And still the mighty siege engines rolled forward amid the yowling Swarm, the tall towers and massive rams alike, and still the waves of numbing fear beat outward from the Gargon, pulsing to the boom of the drums.

"Hurry with that ballista!" shouted Agron, now among the gathering muster at the south gate.

As the mighty spear-caster was wheeled forward, a distant clarion rang out, and then another. And someone atop the wall shouted down, "My Lord King, they swarm through the moat with scaling ladders, and the ram now crosses the bridge."

As black-shafted arrows whispering of death hissed over the walls to be answered in kind by crossbows, King Agron called back, "Quarrels only at the ram, and sound the call to fire the moat at will."

As the signal rang out, Veran and Ridich came pressing through the back of the muster and toward their fellow Mages.

There sounded a clacking as wood slammed up against the outer stone of the walls, and men above shouted Ladders!

Braving the darts of the Rupt, crossbowmen loosed deadly bolts down into the darkness below, and crews of burly men took up long, forked poles to shove the ladders back and away. Still other men lighted torches to sling over the wall at command.

"Cast fire!" shouted the captain above, and men flung torches through the crenels. phoom! Flames leapt upward from the moat, lighting the sky lurid red, and Tipperton, in the midst of the muster at the gate, heard shrieking coming from the far side, the men on the wall above howling in glee.

"Where are the Dwarves?" panted Ridich as he and Veran came in among the Mages.

Letha shook her head. "The arrow flew not a candlemark past. They've not yet arrived."

"Stand ready," called King Agron.

"But we did not plan our attack to occur when the Rupt were attacking as well," protested Ridich.

Tip barked a laugh. "As my da used to say, 'Life is what happens while you're making plans.' Well, we made our plans, and good plans they were, but it seems Life is running all over us, or perhaps in this case it is Death."

"Sir Tipperton, be it Life or Death," said Agron, "we must make do with what the Fates have cast our way. And e'en though the Rupt assail our walls, our immediate objective is to slay the Gargon, and by Adon, slay him we will!"

"Where is the Gargon?" Alvaron called up to Delander, the Mage peering into the night.

"Yet at the fore of his tent," came the shouted reply. dng!

"What th-?" muttered Tip, then, "Oh, the ram."

Above and from within the embracing walls crossbows twanged, hurling quarrels at the batterers before the outer gate. dng!

"Ready at the bar," Agron commanded the inner gate warders.

"King Agron, do we not wait for the Dwarves?" asked Alvaron. dng!

Agron shook his head. "What better time to attack than in the midst of all. Their forces are spread along the moat. The Gargon stands behind them alone, and can we break through the ring of Riipt we will take him undefended."

Alvaron shook his head. "A Gargon is never undefended, my lord, for the casting of dread shields him from harm."

"Nevertheless," said Agron, and he signed for the gate to be opened. dng!

The great drawbar was pulled away and, squealing, the portcullis was raised.

Delander came rushing down from above and joined his fellow Mages, the six bracing themselves for what was to come.

The inner gate swung open Dng!

– and wheeling the ballista amid them, afoot they entered the twisting way under the wall-King Agron and his handpicked company of men. And among the armed and armored Dendorians strode six Mages, only two of which even bore staffs. And among the Mages walked one wee Warrow, his Elven bow at the ready.

Dng!

When they were all within the dark, twisting confines of the tunnel, with a clang the gates behind were shut, and the portcullis squealed down.