Ormazum was overrun. The goblins had come in greater numbers than expected, and they brought strange people with them up the Lonely Ohr; people who looked something like a cross between goblins and dwarves, with skin the color of mud and moss and strong, thick limbs. Their backs were hunched forward and their heads hung threateningly on powerful necks. Their faces were broad and flat with wide flared nostrils, squinted eyes, and tusks like a boar’s jutted out of their mouths. Wild hair of dark colors draped over their thick shoulders, and their skin was scarified and painted with bright ink. Their armor was mostly hardened wood with bits of crude iron, but their hide was thick and they proved difficult to kill. Ror had to bring Malgond down upon one of them three times before it finally lay still.

Two of them were ganging up on Buri, dodging his spear thrusts and striking him with their maces. Ror came up behind the stouter of the two and thrust the spiked point of Malgond’s haft between its shoulders. Buri landed a crippling blow on the other, but it took the two of them to kill the creature.

“What are these things?!” Buri shouted.

“I’ve no idea,” Ror said. The one saving grace was that the creatures were no taller than they. As tough as the new enemy was, the dwarves were on a par in terms of height and reach. All the same, it made it impossible for them to overwhelm the goblins with such durable soldiers bolstering their ranks.

Gund had told Ror of the attack on the citadel, knowing that he would want to be there to help defend his mother and sister. He left the bulk of the Gatebreakers with Gund and took only a hundred men and Buri. They ran as fast as their feet could carry them, almost winding themselves, and when they arrived in the city ten of them were killed almost at once by the stout creatures, which Buri contemptuously called trolls.

They cleared the Armsman’s Square and met with a squadron of Black Helms. The Black helm lieutenant was in a blood fever, but managed to calm himself enough to speak with Ror.

“Trolls? You mean the mud men? We’ve been routing them wherever we see them. We’ve trained to fight our own, and they’re more like us than the goblins. Good thing Chief Yormun detached us here.”

“Have any of them made their way upwards?” Ror asked.

“Those we haven’t caught. They fled up the Royal Tempus, along with a mob of gobbs. There might have been more. It’s hard to say Dread Highness. The fighting’s been thick, and out blood is up.”

“Then go back to your killing. I want everything that’s not a dwarf dead!”

The Black Helms roared and ran through the halls of Ormazum, slaughtering joyfully as they went. Ror and his men followed them for a time, making good speed in their bloody wake, then went to the Royal Tempus. They had a fight on their hands while they waited for the stage to return. A small horde of goblins came upon them, and they were another ten men shy when the stage came. Some of the goblins were so caught up in the fight that they followed the dwarves onto the stage. The Gatebreakers cut them to pieces, venting some of their rage. When they came to the citadel they rushed directly to the Great Hall, where they could hear the ringing of weapons and tortured cries.

A cluster of trolls were gathered outside the main door and were pounding it with their hammers. The hard stone was chipping and buckling where they struck. Inside they could hear the shrieks of goblins dying down, and the angry shouts of dwarven women gathering by the inside of the main door. Ror wasted no time, and called for his men to charge. The trolls turned to defend themselves and met the charge fiercely, felling several of the Gatebreakers, and knocking Buri to the ground. The doors then opened and an army of dwarf maids came upon the trolls. Ror saw his mother crush the skulls of two with her mace. A large one wrapped his arms around her from behind and lifted her off the ground. She kicked him savagely between his legs. The creature howled but would not let go. Another troll had picked a spear up off the ground and raised his arm to throw it at Halfi. Malgond rose and fell, but it was his father who killed the troll. He’d come around the outer passage that ran west and north of the Great Hall with about thirty of the Diamond Born and a few Stone Guard. Their weapons and armor were stained with blood, and sweat poured through the cracks in their aventails.

Ror’s mother had kicked the troll into a stupor, and finished him off with her mace. They had a brief respite when they’d killed the trolls, which Ror’s father used to gather everyone into the Great Hall.

“Where’s Klar?” Ror asked urgently, looking around the room.

“I don’t know. I was giving people tasks to keep them occupied and we were attacked by the drow piled over in the eastern corner. Then these… people came. We fought them off, and I looked for Klar but she’s gone, and so’s the Iron Maiden. Idana’s gone as well. She took the children with her to hide in one of the porter’s houses. We went to search for her but couldn’t find her. Grar, how are they attacking us here? Has Gund fallen? Is our army defeated?”

“No,” his father said, holding his mother in his great arms, “no, my love, our men are fighting still, and Gund is leading them. But there’s been treachery. Where’s Urum and the elders? Are they still hidden?”

His mother nodded. “He took them to the Hall of Warding. Every man and woman too weak and old to fight. Grar, I’m worried about Klar and Idana.”

“Where’s my brother?”

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“He helped us with the first attack, but he left to find his wife and I haven’t seen him since. Sixty of the city guard won’t be enough. These strange men are strong, as strong as us even.”

“The Black Helms are punishing them,” Ror said. “Father, I’m going to find Klar.”

His father nodded, but no sooner than he turned to order his men an army of drow rushed toward them from every direction.His father heaved the doors shut and his mother commanded the Diamond Born to pile tables and trestles in front of them. Ror wanted to protest the retreat, but then he saw how many women had already died, and felt a twinge of sadness that quickly turned to wrath.

When all the doors tot he Great Hall were barricaded, Grar ordered a ring to be made of the remaining furniture and rallied everyone behind it. They chose a remote corner behind the throne, where they would only have two fronts to defend. Ror, Buri and the Gatebreakers hid in dimly lit spaces and behind the corpses of the drow, ready to ambush any does who made it into the Hall. The drow were much more orderly than the goblins. Instead of howls and shrieks, they heard stern voices giving quick orders, and the ringing of hammers on chisels. They focused their chiseling on the center of the doors, and stopped their work when only a small hole was made. The Great Hall was dead quiet for a moment, then he heard a drow woman issue a strange command in a clear and piercing voice.

He grew restless in the following stillness. Not a sound came from outside, and he could feel the tension coming from his men. Buri growled in the dark and gripped his spear tightly. The silence continued, until a faint hissing sound filled Ror’s ears. His eyes began to water, stung by a gritty fog that seemed to be wrapping around him. He heard the echo of a frantic whisper, then nothing. He looked to his men. “Did anyone else see that fog?” he whispered. The soldiers all shook their heads. Buri continued to growl. A blue light shone from behind the ring of tables in the corner, and Ror heard his father crying in sudden pain. Ror stood and vaulted over the pile of dead drow. What he saw stopped his heart.

His father had stood and was struggling with a creature made of pure light. It looked like the skeleton of a dwarf, with glowing hair streaming outward like blue flame from it’s luminous skull. It’s skeletal arms clung to his father’s armor, and it seemed its fingers were going into the mannarim and channeling light into it. His father continued to scream, and desperately clawed at the clasps to his maille, flinging pieces of it across the hall. The hauberk under his plate was glowing orange, and the skin of his face looked burnt and scarred. Smoke came from singed streaks in his beard. His mother swung madly at the creature. Pieces of it seemed to fragment and fly through the air where she struck it, but the shards of its body would only gather back together. “Help him!” his mother cried. Ror and a dozen other dwarves all swarmed over their king and tore his armor off his body. The beast finally stood still when Grar had been stripped to his hose and arming shirt. His skin was red and steaming, and he whimpered piteously while reaching across the floor for his spear.

The dwarves all stood silently and stared at the creature. It stroked the pieces of his father’s armor almost lovingly, all the while growing more luminous. Before long the armor plates were brittle and thin, and the creature looked more like a lightning skinned man than a skeleton of glowing mist. It hovered for a moment on a cloud of spiraling crystals, looking at the dwarves through lidless blue eyes.

“KARNOT!” the woman shouted again. The creature looked towards the doors and extended its arm. It opened its hand, then made a motion of clearing the debris. Ror held Malgond ready and poised himself to attack. The wraith looked at him and its face took on a savage aspect. What was blue turned searing white, and boiling steam sizzled in the air around it. It filled the air with long-drawn wail that shook the entire chamber.

"Affleon!" shouted the drow. Another of the creatures appeared in the middle of the room. It flew like a gale and wrapped its arms around Ror. A blinding white light came from inside his helm and the wraith howled in pain. When Ror’s sight returned he saw the two creature’s huddling together, the first cradling the second in it’s etheric arms. Mannarim, thought Ror. But why was his armor impervious to their attacks, where his father’s was not? Somehow the creature seemed to draw strength from his father’s maille.

The woman shouted again and the creatures rose in the air. “Behind me!” Ror shouted. All the dwarves in the room hurried behind him. His mother paused to lift his father off the ground, and the wraiths attacked her together. Ror lunged toward them but they each took hold of his parents and glowed bright orange. His mother screamed, and his father merely moaned, too weak to cry out again. Ror stepped back and they stopped.

“Ror,” his father said with great effort, “go.”

“What?! Have you lost your mind? They can’t hurt me, I can save you.”

“No, Ror, go. The… children… just… children… go… please…”

“Ror,” his mother said, “you’re father’s right. Go find Idana and the children, and your sister, and Urum and the old ones, and Audun. Please find Audun. They want us as hostages, well, we’ll be more trouble than we’re worth.”

“Children…” his father was rapidly losing consciousness. His burnt body hung limp in the monter’s arms.

Ror gently tapped his foot seven times, and several of the Gatebreakers slowly circled around the wraiths. Ror nodded to his mother and stepped round to leave, then whirled about. The creature holding his mother steamed and she wailed in agony, and the other dropped his father and hurled a blast of lightning into the Gatebreakers. The soldiers flew through the air and fell steaming onto the ground. A dark pool of melted flesh spread across the ground beneath them. The creature looked at Ror, and it seemed there was sorrow as well as rage on it’s etheric face. Ror lowered Malgond and slowly stepped back, then gestured for everyone to hurry to the northern door.

He and his men exited first, forming a wedge through the drow that had gathered to ambush him. Drow were tall and long limbed, and their men were fearsomely quick, but such a terror and fury had taken the dwarves that they fought like crazed animals. The drow killed a few with their spears, but broke and withdrew when one of their number went down. Ror ordered his men to form a circle of shields and maces around the women, and they made their way quickly to the nearest Ohr Tempus. His father’s Diamond Born had remained behind, doubtless to die defending their king. They heard their screams as the engines of the tempus whirred to life, and they stood in shocked silence as they descended to Ormazum. Ror pulled Buri close to him. “I’ll order the men to get the people to safety, then we’re going back for Klar.” Buri nodded and flexed his grip on his spear.