Even before their boat landed they noticed that the shore teemed with dark dwarves-most thankfully alive. But the none of the troops were making any effort to press the attack. Several hurried forward to take the bow and stern lines or to help the thane climb up to the stone wharf.

"Who's in command here?" Darkend demanded. A captain rushed forward as Garimeth hastened after her brother. "Why aren't you attacking?"

"There are no Hylar within reach, lord. The rockfall has cut off our approach. It collapsed the bottom of the enemy's lift and wiped out the defenders on Level Two."

"What do you mean? What about the higher levels?" Darkend was full of fear, thinking that all of his plans were coming to nothing. There would be no triumph in capturing a ruined slag heap of molten stone!

"Don't know. But the Hylar are sealed off from above. The rock melted right down the transport shaft!" blubbered the terrified commander.

"Then get your men digging!"

"I have, lord. They're making progress, but it will take time!"

"What about our allies, the Theiwar?" asked Darkend quickly.

"Their thane is nearby, sire, mustering his troops just to the west of here."

Darkend turned to his sister. "Go find Pounce Quick-spring and bring him to me."

"Aye, lord," she agreed, more than willing to remove herself from her brother's presence.

Garimeth soon located the Theiwar thane. Pounce Quickspring was shouting angrily at his troops, but his clan also had been stymied by the same solid stone obstacle that was blocking the Daergar advance. He greeted the dwarfwoman suspiciously, but finally agreed to accompany her to Darkend. They joined the Daergar reinforcements on a wide, clear section of the docks. Pounce Quickspring looked expectantly at the Daergar thane.

"Now is the time to reveal our new war partner. Garimeth, summon the Chaos beast!" the Daergar thane ordered his sister. His voice nearly caught in his throat, for he dreaded the humiliation that would result if she failed. Pounce Quickspring and many of the Daergar dubiously looked to the sky.

Garimeth turned her voice and her thoughts to the sky, speaking once again in that strange language enabled by the Helm of Tongues. She called to Zarak Thuul for long minutes, sending forth a message of her own adoration and desire, unaware of the passage of time as her emotions grew and she reached out, pleading and beseeching and cajoling.

A spot of brightness appeared in the subterranean sky, curling around the shoulder of the Life-Tree. The glowing form quickly grew into a blazing ball of fire that spilled toward the Hybardin waterfront.

Primus spread his vast, flaming wings and dipped down, coming to rest before the astonished dark dwarves. The brightness of his fiery visage was exceedingly painful in the eyes of the assembled warriors.

Even dismounted, Zarak Thuul stood as tall as a large man and towered over the dwarves. His face was blank, stony, yet handsome in a perverse sort of way. His crimson eyes flamed, the light an eerie color against that perfect blackness. Making no sound nor showing any expression, the daemon warrior moved over to Garimeth. Then he dropped to his belly, and gently kissed her feet. Finally he rose again to stand tall and magnificent, master of chaos and lord of the underworld.

In that visage Garimeth discerned images of other shapes as well, a vision of unspeakable blackness, and then a great, undead serpent draped in tendrils of festering flesh. An awareness of his awesome power once again made her knees weak, and she was his to command. The Helm gave her the ability to share his consciousness, to thrill to the awareness of his being.

"Please, my daemon, please know me, and grant me the freedom to sail on your power."

She murmured the words as if they were a prayer, too quiet for any of the dwarves to hear. But the flaming eyes of Zarak Thuul flared more brightly than ever, and she knew that he had heard and he was pleased.

She realized the creature's presence greatly exalted her stature in the eyes of Darkend and the other dark dwarves. This knowledge gave her a sudden, powerful thrill.

"All our pieces are in place," Darkend ventured to say, gesturing to the multitude of dwarves amassed along the waterfront to either side. "Let our great attack begin."

Garimeth translated his words into that wretched, profane tongue. The monstrous warrior stood and listened impassively. Then she repeated Darkend's statement, seeking some sign of acknowledgment, all the time feeling the twisting pleasure and longing desire course throughout her being.

"Ask him this," Darkend was saying. "Can he create a route through the stone whereby our legions can climb upward and strike at the very core of Hybardin?"

Garimeth asked the question, following her brother's exact wording. Though Zarak Thuul gave no outward sign that he heard or understood, she sensed his pleasure with the violent command and his intent to obey. She turned back to the thanes and explained. "He agrees."

"I didn't hear anything," Pounce Quickspring declared skeptically.

"He told me alone," Garimeth said, with a meaningful glance at her brother.

"My sister speaks the truth," said Darkend. "She can communicate with him via this magical device. Surely you can see that!"

"Very well. Let the attack begin!" barked the thane of the Theiwar as he turned to lead his troops.

Immediately the dark dwarf companies were mustered away from the waterfront and they began climbing one of the large piles of rubble that had been left when some of the upper portions of the Life-Tree had collapsed. That mound came into contact with a wall of the overhang, and it was there, Garimeth said, that Zarak Thuul would create a passageway.

A familiar figure, robed all in black, emerged from among the Daergar gathered at the edge of the water, and Darkend and Garimeth were quick to recognize the assassin, Slickblade.

"Ah, Slickblade. I assume this means that Tarn Bellow-granite is dead?" The thane shot his sister a look of cruel triumph, pleased to see Garimeth's face tighten, her lips trembling slightly as she made an effort to control herself.

"Sadly, my lord, no."

"My son lives?" demanded Garimeth.

"Aye, for the time being." The assassin's voice was devoid of emotion. "I tried to follow him, and I believe he has come here, to the city of the Hylar."

"Then find him now and kill him!" screamed Darkend.

"I am making every effort, my thane. The half-breed stole a boat from Daerforge with gulley dwarf assistance, and used it to make his way here. I believe that he is somewhere in the vicinity, perhaps skulking around on this very shore.

"Wait." The thane turned to Garimeth. "Where would he go first? Would he come here to the waterfront?"

"I don't know," she lied, certain that Tarn would in fact move mountains to make his way back to the city of his birth at this time of crisis.

"Don't trust her, lord. She deceives you!"

"Be aware that your own trust may be misplaced," she retorted, with a meaningful look at Slickblade.

She could tell by a foray into her brother's mind that he didn't believe her about Tarn, but he couldn't see any way to prove that she was lying either. Slickblade melted away into the shadows, but by then Darkend was distracted by the upcoming battle plans, and Tarn was temporarily forgotten.

The fire dragon rose up on wings dripping flame and spark, scalding dozens of dark dwarves who were too slow to get out of the monster's path. With the daemon warrior riding between its shoulders, the dragon ascended, circled once, then flew into the side of Hybardin's stony pillar. The fiery beast showed no hesitation as it swept against the solid rock.

Immediately some of that stone tumbled away, and Darkend cursed bitterly as dozens more of his force were crushed by the rockfall. Other remnants of the dark dwarf army scattered in confusion. Before they could reform the monstrous attacker was out of sight. Behind, however, it left a wide cave, remarkably smooth-floored, which curved at a gentle angle upward toward the high levels of Hybardin.