Finally the swordsman turned the full brunt of the attack against those dwarves who tried to get onto the bridge. The mass of Zhakar disappeared in a howling, smoking inferno, and even when the gouts of fire ceased to belch from the sword, the pile of corpses burned, sending a cloud of black smoke billowing upward into the sky.

Ariakas looked across the valley bottom. He saw a dozen or more Zhakar, still alive, desperately scrambling away from him. Good, he thought. He wanted survivors so that the tale of his might and his brutality would reach the ears of the Zhakar king. Instilling fear within that monarch was a major part of the warrior's plan.

Only then did he look down at the blade. A chill of portent ran through his body as he saw it. When the fires had died and the weapon had performed its deadly work, the steel surface had faded from red, as he had known it would. Now, however, it became a deep, rich blue.

Chapter 20

The Walls of Zhakar

They rested for a full day after the battle, making their camp in a niche on the leeward side of the tall ridge. There they recovered from the exertion and tended their many wounds-all of which, save Lyrelee's, proved to be minor. Though the priestess had been near death during the fight, the regenerative power of Ariakas's healing magic proved astonishingly effective. By the second night there was no sign that her skin had been punc shy;tured.

During this period of rest and recovery, the compan shy;ions kept a careful watch for attackers. The Zhakar knew where they were, they reasoned, since it would have been impossible for them to effectively hide in the open terrain. Still, they saw not a single sign of the stunted dwarves.

"Did we scare them that well?" Ariakas wondered as the sun set that night.

"It's that sword," Tale Splintersteel offered, pointing to the now-azure blade. "I told you-my people know good weapons, and that is one of the best."

"Know them, sure. But do they really fear this sword that much?" The idea that the weapon was all that deterred another attack seemed just a little unsettling to Ariakas. After all, now that the blade had turned blue he was not about to use it for a routine battle demonstra shy;tion. The Dark Queen's prophecy still resounded through his mind, and he vowed not to employ the power until he understood what she meant.

"In the heart of the world, it will set fire to the sky." he murmured, pondering the gleaming weapon.

"What was that?" asked Lyrelee, reclining near the low fire Ferros had built out of dried brush.

"Nothing-just my mind wandering," Ariakas replied hastily.

She looked at him quickly, a glance that seemed to penetrate right through his lie. Still, she settled back onto her rocky pillow and closed her eyes, apparently uncon shy;cerned.

"Keep sharp lookout, tonight," Tale Splintersteel sug shy;gested from his bedroll as Ariakas rose to take the first shift of guard duty. "Zhakar eyes are keen in the dark- and my country folk often favor the early morning hours for an attack."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ariakas retorted scornfully. Just the same, he held his blade out of the scabbard as he climbed to a rocky perch above their camp. From here he could see the slope to all sides of them, as well as the val shy;ley floor stretching to the right and left and the face of the ridge rising opposite them beyond.

The Zhakar made no appearance even through the darkest hours of the night, and when dawn found Ferros Windchisel in the watch seat, there had been not the slightest disturbance or intrusion. They ate a cold break shy;fast and finally returned to the trail, resuming the steep climb that had been interrupted two days before.

Ariakas watched Lyrelee carefully. Though she wore a pack nearly as heavy as his, her steps were firm, her breathing strong. She climbed without speaking, and seemed to show no sign of the nearly fatal wounds she had suffered in the attack.

They crossed three ridges on this day of vigorous marching, and late afternoon found them on a narrow trail that circled the waist of volcanic, looming Mount Horn. Tale Splintersteel had explained that not only did this mountain mark the border of Zhakar's inner realm, it held a watch post garrisoned with a company of dwar-ven guards.

Ariakas didn't like the looks of the trail. As it scaled the steep sides of the slumbering volcano, it provided room for them to walk only in single file. To the right, the sloping shoulder of the mountain swept downward and away for thousands of feet. It wasn't exactly a precipice, but anyone who fell would certainly roll for a long way before coming to a bruised and battered halt.

Even more nerve-racking was the sight of the moun shy;tain's cone-shaped summit rising steeply away to their left. The rocky surface concealed numerous niches and crannies wherein ambushing Zhakar could have con shy;cealed themselves by the dozen.

"The watch post's up there," explained Tale Splinter-steel, pointing to a notch in the trail before them. Ahead, the slope of the mountain rose into a jagged shoulder, and the steep pathway passed between that shoulder and the main summit. The gap was barely twenty feet wide, with rough cliffs of basalt to either side.

"Can we go around it?" wondered the warrior. Yet even as he asked the question, he looked at the moun-

tainside and realized that the watch post had been well chosen.

Below the rough shoulder, a cliff plunged for at least a thousand feet downward, and below that a jagged tumble of large rocks and loose scree offered a time-consuming nightmare of a crossing. The scree slope spilled all the way to a deep, white-water river scoring a channel along the valley floor.

Above the watch post was a slope that was nearly as steep as the lower cliff, here soaring all the way up to the mountain's sharp, angular summit. Though the place could possibly be circumvented by the upward route, any Zhakar lurking in the notch would have no diffi shy;culty moving upward faster than those approaching along the trail.

"They're certain to have already seen us," the dwar-ven merchant said helpfully. "Might as well march right up there and see what they do-just keep your sword handy," he added to Ariakas.

The warrior nodded, not liking this. The steel blade would provide him no more protection than inherent in its design, he knew, for he would not unleash the magic of the blue blade here.

The companions kept their eyes on the narrow notch as they moved steadily upward. With sunset and the coming of dusk, the wind grew chill, and the stony gap, a half mile away, took on an even more sinister appear shy;ance.

"Should we stop here and wait for morning?" asked Ferros Windchisel, mindful of the fading daylight.

"I think we should push on through," Ariakas declared. "This is a damned poor place to sleep, for one thing-no shelter from the wind, no firewood. Not even a flat place to rest besides the trail!" What he didn't say, but knew, was that he couldn't bear the tension of wait shy;ing. Whatever fate awaited them at the watch post of Zhakar, he wanted to find out now.

"I agree," Lyrelee added. "Even if we don't go any far shy;ther tonight-at least up there we'd have a chance for a windbreak.

"Let's go," said Tale Splintersteel with a resigned shrug. "Just make sure they can see that sword," he reminded the human warrior.

They hurried, anxious to reach the notch before dark shy;ness surrounded them. The first star had twinkled into sight by the time they made the approach, but the western horizon still shed pale light across the mountain heights.

"Let me go first" suggested Ariakas, moving past the others. The bare blade extended before him, he advanced cautiously toward the gap. The stone walls to the right and left loomed upward, dark and mysterious. Between them, not more than a dozen steps away, the gap opened out again. Even in the darkness Ariakas saw a wide val shy;ley beyond, much flatter and more gentle than the ter shy;rain they had crossed thus far.