As evening dragged into the middle hours of night, Derkin's scouts and foragers roamed the field between the dwarven encampment and the surrounding army, searching for weak points, for possible avenues of escape. They found none, and their reports only verified what Derkin already knew. If the humans continued their attack tomorrow, his entire army was doomed. They could not escape, and they could not hold out through another day on this barren, defenseless flat.

Near midnight, the Lawgiver entered the ruined palace one last time. He found Helta Graywood and sat with her for a few moments beside a dwindling fire.

"We would have been married when we returned to Kal-Thax," he said. "It is what I was waiting for. I wanted to marry you on dwarven ground, in a land secured for dwarves."

"Are we going to die tomorrow, Derkin?" she asked quietly.

"There is a chance-just a slight chance-that the humans might withdraw," he said. "But if they don't…"

He let his voice trail off, not wanting to finish the statement.

Helta took his hand in both of hers. "As of this moment, you are my husband," she said. "I wish us long life, if that can be. But if it cannot, at least we will end life as one."

Suddenly the ground seemed to shake, and a rolling thunder sounded through the walls. Still hand in hand, they hurried outside. The cold night wind had shredded the clouds overhead, and there was starlight. Beyond the human encampments to the south, and high above them, an entire mountain slope was in gigantic motion. Down and down, gathering momentum with each foot, millions of tons of shattered stone poured down the steep slope, flattening and burying everything in a half-mile-wide path of utter destruction. Within seconds, the avalanche rolled onto the lower slope, a huge wall of moving, churning stone racing toward the firelit pits of Klanath. Even above the thunder, the dwarves could hear humans screaming.

The bounding stones hit the mine pits, filled and covered them, and rolled on for another hundred yards, tearing through rank after rank of human encampments. And as the thunder died, great clouds of dust arose, riding on the wind.

Vin the Shadow had done his work. He and another fifty or sixty Daergar miners had completed the task the delvers had begun. The pits of Klanath were no more.

But even as he watched the dust clouds rise, Derkin Lawgiver knew that Dreyus had survived. Somehow he sensed that the strange, evil man-who might be another embodiment of the emperor Quivalin Soth V-had not been in the path of the avalanche. Dreyus was still alive, and tomorrow his army would finish what it had begun today.

With eyes as bleak and cold as the night wind, Derkin turned to Tap Tolec. "Awaken the camp," he said. "We move at once."

"But there's no way out," Talon Oakbeard muttered. "We're still surrounded."

"We go there." Derkin pointed at the still-billowing dust. "There, with our backs to the mountain, we can make them pay more dearly for each of us they kill."

Darkness and speed now were the dwarves' final allies. Before the soldiers east and west of the landslide's fan could close in, Derkin's entire camp had been moved. Leaving the barren clearing around the ruined palace behind them, they transferred themselves and everything they could ride, herd, or carry into the field of tumble-stone beneath the steep, sheared peak.

But as his people dug in there, in the final hour of darkness, Derkin remembered a debt of honor. At the edge of the avalanche fan, Tulien Gart was struggling with a balky horse, trying to follow the dwarves into the maze of scattered stone. Ordering the Ten to stay and organize their defenses, Derkin hurried down the slope toward the man. As he approached, he held out his hand. "You have done all you can for us, human," he said. "Dreyus lives, and if you stay here you will die. Get on that horse and follow the dust cloud. In the darkness and confusion, one rider might get through."

For an instant, Gart hesitated. Then he nodded. He could do no more here. The dwarf was repaying a debt of gratitude. Derkin was offering him his life. Pulling his horse away from the rocks, Tulien Gart bowed, a bow of true respect. "Farewell, Derkin Lawgiver," he said. "May whatever gods you choose protect you." He mounted then and rode away in the starlit darkness, heading east, following the drifting cloud of dust.

Derkin turned and hesitated. He sensed that he was not alone, but saw no one. Then a starlit face appeared from nothingness, and he sighed. Helta had followed him. "You still have that elf's invisible cloak," he rasped. "I thought I told you to…"

Running feet scuffed the ground, and excited whispers reached his ears. "It's the leader! Get him!"

"Derkin!" Helta shouted. "Watch out!"

But it was too late. Something heavy crashed against the temple of his helm, and the world went dark as the ground rose to meet him.

Stunned, unable to move or even gasp, Derkin saw torchlight flare, and there were humans all around. A patrol of soldiers, searching the field. A sling hummed and spat, a soldier screeched, and the torch fell and went out. In the darkness, Derkin felt something being spread over him. Then the voices came again-guttural, human voices. "Why, it's only a dwarf girl!" one said. "This is no 'leader/ Cooby."

"I swear he was here," another said. "At least, I thought I saw him."

"Well, there's no one here now except her. Whoop! Catch her! Don't let her get away!"

"It's all right. I have her. Ow! Give me a hand here! She's as strong as an ox!"

His mind screaming silently, Derkin could only listen as the humans carried Helta away. Seconds passed, and he felt himself beginning to recover, but already the sounds were fading into distance, and there was nothing he could do.

But then the fading footsteps halted, and a man's voice shouted, "Oh, gods, no!"

Other voices drowned his, shouting and screaming. There were several distinct thuds, and various crashing, clattering noises. With a thrust of iron will, Derkin forced his fingers to move, then his hands, arms, and legs. He rolled over, staggered upright, and the invisible cloak fell away from him. The world seemed to pitch and sway around him, but he forced his vision to steady itself as he saw movement. He squinted in the starlight, then gaped.

Helta Graywood came to him out of the starlit darkness, chattering and caressing. "You're alive!" she said. "Oh, I was so afraid."

He stared past her at the two towering, lurching creatures behind her.

Helta glanced around. "Goath and Ganat were watching," she said. "They saved me."

"Pretty one Derkin's mate," one of the ogres rumbled, sounding almost apologetic. "Nice little dwarf. Humans act bad to her."

"Won't bother her anymore, though," the other added. "We bashed 'em."

First light of dawn brought moments of confusion to Dreyus's forces. The dwarven encampment out on the flats was gone, but it didn't take long to find where they had gone. In the night, a huge avalanche had crashed down on the central section of the army's southern cordon. Where there had been great mine pits, now there was only a sloping field of rubble. And at least one battalion of soldiers camped there was gone as though it had never existed. But the dwarves were found. They had taken shelter among the fallen stones.

Just out of range of crossbows, javelins, and slings, Dreyus and his commanders assembled on the flats, looking up at the remaining dwarves.

"Sire, we have lost nearly two thousand men in a day and a night in this place," one of the senior commanders noted. "These dwarves cannot win, of course. They are trapped where they are, with that cliff at their backs and our units all around. But there are still thousands of dwarves here, and they fight fiercely. We will lose more men today. With the road closed beyond repair, is this place worth such a price to His Imperial Majesty?"