Ashtaway acted with the speed of thought, throwing back his head and drawing a deep breath. His lips stretched taut across his mouth as, cupping his hands, he released a piercing shriek. The urgent cry of the eagle keened across the valley, ringing even over the sounds of battle. Several of the knights raised their heads, looking about for the source of the sound. Instead, they saw serpentine death, plunging from the heavy layer of cloud. A white dragon in the lead shrieked in fury, and behind it other white and blue shapes thundered downward from the glowering clouds, horrific merchants of violence and death. Again Ash sent out the cry, drawing his axe and waving it above his head. Would they see him? One of the knights looked in his direction and shouted something, spurring his horse toward the wild elf. Several others wheeled to follow, and he knew that the humans had at least seen the hope he offered. Whether they could reach it in time was another question.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw that the iron doors to the tunnel remained open. He expected that the gully dwarves would have vanished deep into the passageway and was startled to see the group of them clustered at his feet. The little wretches had crept forward soundlessly and now eagerly observed the battle from behind the shelter of the elf's legs.

Quickly Ash sought out Toofer, fastening his gaze on the Highbulp's grimy face. "Go back. Get ready to close the doors when I tell you to! Will you do that?"

"You betcha!" Toofer's head nodded eagerly, though he made no move to return to the tunnel.

Desperately Ash looked back to the battle, where most of the knights had remounted their chargers. In small groups they galloped toward the mountain, where the Kagonesti again waved his axe.

Looking skyward, the warrior saw three white dragons, diving in the lead, and at least a pair of blues coming close behind. The knights separated, scattering not from panic, Ashtaway sensed, but training. This way they presented the fewest targets to the horrific, death-dealing breath weapons of the vengeful serpents.

"Go inside! Now!" Ash repeated, his voice a desperate growl as he saw Toofer and the other gully dwarves still watching the battle.

The Highbulp scowled suspiciously. "You want us to miss best part of fight?" he demanded.

"I want you to stay alive!" Ashtaway snarled, furious. "And just maybe, to save some of my friends! Now, go1." He punctuated the command with a menacing wave of his axe, and that was enough to send the dwarves tumbling like ninepins back toward the tunnel mouth. They took up positions at the great closing-wheels, but fortunately did not yet draw them shut.

"Wait till I tell you to close the doors!" the elf shouted, before turning back to the deadly fight.

The leading white dragon belched a cloud of frigid, killing frost. The white blast exploded downward and out, expanding across the ground, sweeping several riders and their plunging horses into the deadly effect-not to mention a few craven ogres who crouched nearby, apparently having realized they could never outrun the horses.

Dissipating almost as quickly as it had formed, the frost revealed the motionless figures of horses, knights, and ogres in its wake. The victims had not been frozen in the postures of the battle. Instead, the force of the frosty blast had sent the knights tumbling from the horses, smashing the unfortunate steeds to the ground with fatal, crushing power. The dead lay still, rigid, in postures suggesting the extreme agony and horror of their last moments.

More of the riders began to retreat, dodging through the dense clouds of smoke spewing from the coal piles. The white dragons soared after them, breathing their deadly frost, but nowhere could they catch more than two or three victims in any single explosive burst.

Breaking out of the enclosed buildings, the riders lay low across their saddles, lashing every bit of speed from the plunging mounts. The horses needed no encouragement; nostrils snorting, eyes wide with panic, the animals galloped in a desperate lather, keenly aware of the doom that soared just behind their tails.

One of the blue dragons swooped in from the flank, gliding low across the path of the knights. The monster's jaws gaped, and Ash blinked against the bright flash of lightning that burst forth-a killing bolt that seared two riders, instantly killing men and horses. The dragon slashed with its front foot, striking another armored rider from his horse as the azure wyrm swept upward for another pass. The man writhed in the serpent's crushing grip until, a hundred feet in the air, the dragon released its helpless victim. Ashtaway clenched his fists in barely contained fury as he watched the man plunge to his death.

Now the first of the riders neared the tunnel's mouth, and the Kagonesti Pathfinder gestured with his steel- headed axe. "In here! Keep going-get out of sight!"

A white dragon soared low, the cloud of his deadly breath trapping a number of riders as they crowded toward the tunnel entrance. Ashtaway tried to ignore the cries of agonized men as the killing frost embraced them, turning his eyes instead to the dozens of knights still struggling to reach shelter. Lightning crackled through the air, and more clouds of frost swept the ground, but now a steady file of horsemen galloped through the widespread iron gates, disappearing into the shadows below the mountains.

Ash recognized Sir Kamford, with Sir Blayne galloping at his side. A monstrous blue swept toward the two knights and in an eye blink the Kagonesti raised his bow and let a steel-tipped shaft fly. The arrow struck the dragon in its face, and with a roar of irritation the creature jerked its head to the side, spitting a hasty lightning bolt into the rocks before the elven archer.

Tumbling backward, Ashtaway smelled the acrid scent of the lightning strike, but realized that he was still alive. The flying dragons had all swept past, and though they quickly swerved around for another pass, most of the riders had gained the shelter of the tunnel.

Staggering to his feet, the wild elf looked back across the field. Kamford and Blayne waited beyond the gate, holding their wild-eyed, snorting horses in place with firm tugs at the reins. Apparently unconcerned with their own safety, they waited to watch the last of their men flee toward shelter.

"Start closing the gates!" cried Ashtaway, fixing his eyes on Highbulp Toofer's awestruck face. Blinking, the dwarf squinted in concentration, then shouted something to his fellows. Grunting from the effort, but working with surprising unity, the little fellows began to turn the great wheels. Ash saw the doors swivel inward, though he was dismayed by the slow progress of their movement. The gap remained plenty wide enough to allow a dragon, on foot, to press inward after the retreating Knights of Solamnia.

A trio of knights, fleeing from the far end of the camp, seemed like the last of the riders. Ash looked at the doors, which still closed with painful slowness, then back to the three knights. Lying low across their horses' necks, the men kept their eyes fastened on the refuge, refusing to look at the death wheeling through the skies, diving toward their tails. Kamford and Blayne reined in their horses just outside the gate, staring in desperate hope at the last of their fleeing companions.

Ashtaway heard Sir Kamford's groan of dismay as two dragons, a white and a blue, dove toward the three knights. Lightning crackled, the bolt of energy vanishing into a sudden cloud of frost with an intense hiss. The stench of burned flesh rose even above the stink of the lightning, and the cloud dissipated to reveal the garishly frozen, incongruously blackened corpses of the three men and their horses.