The blue dragon swooped toward the tunnel mouth as the white tried to pull up and away, but the frost dragon moved too slowly. The trailing coil of its tail struck the blue's wing, sending the creature careening off to the side. The two serpents crashed into the ground with a shudder that Ashtaway felt through his moccasins.

Still another dragon, a white, dove toward the iron doors that gradually inched shut as the last of the fleeing riders disappeared inside. Sir Kamford and Sir Blayne were the only two knights still exposed to danger.

"Go!" cried Blayne, suddenly leaping down from his saddle. The knight drew his monstrous sword and slapped the flat of the blade against the flank of Sir Kamford's horse, sending the animal galloping inward, carrying its cursing rider into the darkness of the tunnel.

Ashtaway leapt to the doors, seeing that they were about halfway closed-still not enough of a barrier to halt a plunging dragon.

"Go, elf!" cried Sir Blayne, stepping away from the doors to face the diving dragon with his upraised blade.

Words caught in the Kagonesti's throat as Ash tried to urge the knight inward. He understood the man's sacrifice, knew that it was necessary, but in that instant wanted desperately to change his mind. Blayne had been an arrogant boor, he remembered with a pang of guilt, but there would be no faulting the man's courage.

Ash dove through the narrowing portal, hearing Sir Blayne's voice rise in a roaring challenge. "For the Oath and the Measure!" he cried, stepping forward and chopping savagely at the white's looming snout.

The serpent reared back, avoiding the blow, and the elf waited for the killing blast of frost, hoping that the deadly chill did not penetrate too deeply into the shelter of the tunnel. Curiously, the beast did not belch its murderous breath. Perhaps the monster had expended all its frigid exhalations against the fleeing knights outside.

In any event, the creature closed on Sir Blayne with wicked talons and crushing jaws. The knight's blade flashed again, and then, finally, the closing of the tunnel doors blocked the scene from view.

Gully dwarves clustered around Ashtaway, clinging to his leggings, grasping for his hands. The little creatures stared upward, horrified, at the snorting horses and grunting, cursing knights, who tried to dismount in the utter darkness of the tunnel.

"Why you bring them here?" Toofer asked in a hoarse whisper-a voice loud enough to resonate through the enclosed tunnel.

"These are my friends-and yours. You helped save them," the wild elf explained.

"But horses, too?"

Ashtaway wasn't listening. He saw Sir Kamford, numb with shock, staring at the huge doors, where the faintest trickle of light spilled through the crack in the center. Somewhere behind the elf another knight groaned as two comrades worked to set his broken arm.

The Pathfinder stepped to Kamford's side and, hesitantly, laid a hand on the man's shoulder. The knight sighed, shook his head in resignation, and turned away from the heavy iron doors.

"Our fight will make the lords proud," declared Sir Kamford wearily.

"And you? Should it not make you proud as well?" asked the wild elf.

"Aye, my friend, but with the pride comes a weighty measure of grief."

"Was this a victory against the Dark Queen?" Ashtaway asked, remembering the great fires, the scattered livestock-and the fallen knights.

"A bloody fight, but a victory indeed," Kamford agreed. He blinked, trying to see into the depths of the stygian tunnel. "At least, a victory if we can get out of here. Do you know? Are we in a trap or an escape tunnel?"

"Come over here. There's someone you have to meet. I think he can show us the way."

"Go out here," Toofer said, pointing to a pair of large iron doors blocking the end of the roughly carved tunnel. The gully dwarf halted in his tracks, arms crossed firmly across his chest, as if he couldn't wait for the elf and his human companions to be gone.

Ashtaway stepped forward, Sir Kamford at his side. The knight held aloft the last of the sputtering torches that had illuminated their world during the long, often confusing march through the tunnels under the great mountain.

The portals before them resembled strongly the doors Ashtaway had discovered in the valley above Sanction- though the elf sensed that their long subterranean march had carried them well south of that dark and smoldering city. They had been underground for approximately three days, Ash guessed, though they had seen no glimpse of the sky in that time and thus had no real grasp of the duration of their sunless trek. The wild elf also deduced, based on long stretches of gradual downhill slope, that the war party had descended a considerable distance from the entrance on the mountainside.

"Go on. Git," urged the Highbulp, all but pushing the knight toward the door.

"What's outside?" Ash asked suspiciously.

"Usual stuff. Air, mountains, sky. Ground where horses can poop and not stink up tunnel."

The latter concern, the elf thought with a smile, was strongly on Toofer's mind. Though the gully dwarves had displayed a remarkable lack of fastidiousness in all aspects of their lives, the presence of the knights' mighty steeds in these enclosed tunnels had apparently proved too much for even their less-than-delicate sensibilities.

Sir Kamford called several of his men forward to work the door-opening mechanisms-capstans, he called them. The first glimmerings of daylight soon crept through the opening portals, causing the men to blink and shield their eyes until they could adjust, once again, to bright illumination.

"Your help has been very valuable," Ashtaway said to the gully dwarf Highbulp, who had begun to tap his foot in agitation.

"Never mind about that. But t'anks for killin' ol' No- Teeth. We never liked him so much."

"You're… welcome, I think," Ash said with a grin. "But to be on the safe side, I wouldn't go right back to Sanction if I were you. No-Teeth might have had some friends, and I bet they're not too happy right now."

"No friends. But still, we go to different tunnel for a while. Was getting boring, just 'open door,' 'close door' alia time. Toofer real Highbulp, gonna get me a tribe. Maybe even make a army, like you got. No horses, though."

The gully dwarf wrinkled his face and held his nose as one of the great warhorses made another contribution to the floor of the tunnel. "Canya open that door faster?" he asked.

The knights ignored him, and in truth the iron portals swung open fairly quickly. No doubt, Sir Kamford's men were as eager to get outside as the gully dwarves were to see them go. Against the brightness of a cloudless day they saw tall, leafy trees, the edge of a forest beginning a few paces beyond the tunnel doors.

"You've been a true ally," Ashtaway solemnly told Highbulp Toofer. "Among my people, we have a term of honor. We bestow it on some of our great warriors, and those leaders who have an impact on our history. We call such a hero 'Pathfinder.'"

The Kagonesti took a tiny feather from his belt pouch, a tuft of ruby-bright crimson fading into an iridescent green. He placed it behind Toofer's ear, entangling it in the loose curls of oily hair.

"Highbulp Toofer of the Smoking Mountain, I name you'Pathfinder.'"

The gully dwarf blinked in surprise. His chest puffed outward as he stood up to his full three-foot height, beaming.

"No worries about ogres chasin' you," he said. "Highbulp Pathfinder gets 'em going on the wrong way!"