Sooty snow flurried and gusted along the streets, and the shacks and sheds became more densely clustered. Here they found more bodies-some in guard uniform and some not. And just ahead, there was the ring of steel on steel. The first footmen had reached the compound gates. But the sounds of combat were brief. A few clashes of steel, then a few more, and a series of muffled shrieks. Then the riders heard the distinct creaking sounds of great weighted gates being opened.

"At the gallop!" Hammerhand roared, and spurred his mount. The great horse, and all those behind it, bunched powerful haunches and leapt forward at a run. For a hundred feet, the three horse companies charged along parallel streets, then the streets converged, and the compound's wall lay just ahead. A pair of wide gates stood open, with thousands of armed dwarves pouring through. As the reunited horse battalion thundered toward them, the footmen spread to each side. Hundreds of charging horses thundered through, each rider shifting to one side of his saddle as a running footman swung aboard and clambered up the other side.

Within the compound, human soldiers were pouring from every barracks and redoubt, many of them only partially dressed, but all wielding shields and swords. But their resistance was puny against the overwhelming might of the dwarven forces. Faster than sleepy human companies could get themselves organized, solid ranks of dwarves swept through them, hacking and slicing. Somewhere a trumpet blared, then another and another, and torches came alive on the battlements of Lord Kane's palace fortress in the middle of the compound.

Leaving the panicked soldiers to the mercies of his footmen, Derkin led his horse company at full charge directly toward the open gateway of the main palace, where torches flared and chains began to rattle as surprised gatekeepers bent to their winches-far too late. The entire horse battalion thundered past the portcullis and into the inner courtyard, sending human guards and gate tenders flying in all directions.

The household guard, the most elite of all Lord Kane's forces, was just issuing from its halls when the courtyard abruptly filled with horses and dwarves. Better trained than the outside companies, these soldiers-led by a man with a scarred face-mounted a fierce defense. For long minutes, the battle swept this way and that through the courtyard, guards grouping and regrouping, fighting desperately while the dwarves thundered about, ranks and disciplined lines of hoofed fury, armored horses with death clinging to each side of their saddles.

Derkin had ridden halfway around the courtyard, shouting commands and wielding shield and hammer, when a human guard appeared from a niche, thrusting a deadly pike. Derkin heard the weapon strike the footman opposite him and felt the saddle shift as the dwarf fell away. With a kick, Derkin swung himself up into the saddle and struck downward. The pikeman didn't even have time to blink before a heavy hammer crushed his helmet and the skull beneath it.

Wheeling his horse, Derkin swung this way and that, searching. Then he saw what he was looking for. Below the tallest corner tower, a clot of humans was retreating slowly toward a stone gate, while dwarven riders hacked away at them. With a shout, Derkin reined toward that place, dropping from his saddle as he neared it. Behind him, the Ten did likewise, landing catlike on sturdy legs as their tall mounts clattered away. "The door!" Derkin shouted. "Secure that door!"

Afoot, Hammerhand and his newly reformed guard, the Ten, raced toward the archway. The soldiers there, concentrating on the pressing riders, weren't aware of the eleven afoot until they were among them, cutting a gory path through their formation. With shield and sword, hammer and axe, propelled by their own momentum, Hammerhand and the Ten plowed completely through the rank of defenders as the oaken door within the archway closed in their faces… but not quite. From somewhere just behind Derkin, a short, sturdy form hurtled forward, throwing itself into the narrowing gap. Stone and oak timbers closed on armor plate and stopped. Through the gap, Derkin saw a blade lash out and downward, and blood spurted.

He had no chance to see who had stopped the door. At full speed, he and the others with him hit the portal, massive shoulders flinging it back. The dwarves burst through into a large, brightly lit hall where men were scurrying about. Most of the men were unarmed, dressed as clerks or servants, and several of them shrieked and dived for cover as the door slammed open. Among them were soldiers, though, and these drew their weapons.

Derkin glanced from face to face, searching. He had seen Sakar Kane only a few times, and always from a distance, but he would know the face of the tyrant if he saw him. But all the faces he saw were strange to him. Backing away a step, Hammerhand knelt quickly at the doorway and looked down at the dead dwarf lying there, still in the portal. It was Wedge Stonecut, the young volunteer who had been so proud to become one of the Ten. Standing, Derkin pulled the body in through the doorway, then turned and closed the door. It muffled the clamor of battle in the courtyard beyond. Its heavy bar, as he dropped it into place, had a hollow, ominous sound.

Holding his shield and hammer, Derkin Hammerhand strode forward. Fourteen household guards, unnerved at his calm, grim appearance, hesitated and backed away a step. He took another long look around the Great Hall, then demanded, "Where is Sakar Kane?"

No one answered him. The guards were edging forward now, raising their weapons. "Which of you killed Wedge Stonecut?" Derkin demanded.

Again there was no answer, but he needed none. Among the guards was one whose blade still dripped with dwarven blood. For only an instant Derkin gazed at the man, then he spun full around, and his arm lashed out. The hammer flew from his hand, made one quick flip in the air, and smashed into the man's face. As the guard sprawled backward, dead, Derkin drew his sword. Flanked by the Nine, he charged the remaining guards.

The Smoke of Klanath

Sakar Kane was nowhere to be found.

By morning, the palace and its walled compound were secure. The attack had been a complete surprise to the humans of Klanath, catching the soldiers off guard, unprepared, and without their leader to rally them. On top of that, the prince's forces were outnumbered by nearly ten to one. Within hours of the first sortie by night-eyed Daergar, Derkin and his forces were all within the fortress and had barred its gates. Many of the soldiers were dead, many more disarmed and locked away in the palace dungeons. The rest of Kane's household-forty or fifty women, clerks, porters, cooks, and warders-were locked into secure quarters high in one of the towers.

With the dawn, Derkin ordered a complete search of the facility. Hundreds of dwarves swarmed everywhere in the fortress, searching every room, every hall, and every stairwell. It was fruitless. The man Hammerhand had come to find was not in Klanath.

A quivering human clerk, brought before Derkin by blood-spattered dwarven warriors, told him that His Highness had returned from his expedition into Tharkas Pass to find a messenger awaiting him with a sealed scroll from the man called Dreyus. Kane had stayed only long enough to promote the captain of the home guards and put him in command of the Third Battalion. Then the prince rode out again, the clerk said.

Derkin perched in Kane's chair of state, his feet dangling six inches above the floor, his dark cloak and dark-painted armor encrusted with the blood of humans. He listened quietly to the clerk, then pierced the man with that cold-eyed gaze which people so often found disconcerting. "Where did he go?" he demanded.