The War Of The Lance (14 page)

the dead rodents there. A final twist to the spell, and rocks moved, somewhere above.
Seconds later, water began to drip from the roof of rubble, a small spring diverted to
flow through the chamber. And a small, crackling fire appeared in mid-chamber.

“Wake up, you detestable creatures,” Verden Leafglow rumbled. “Wake up and make stew. You
are no good to me if you starve.”

*****

“Sure. We find thing for you. No problem. What thing is?” Glitch I stifled a belch and
grinned a reassuring grin at the monstrous face looking at him from its hole.

After the first shock of sharing a closed cave of rubble with a dragon had worn off, and
when it became obvious that the dragon didn't intend to kill them and eat them - at least
not right away - the Clans of Bulp had gotten down to business. First things first. They
were hungry, and there was food.

Within minutes, savory stew was bubbling in their best pot over what - to some of the
ladies especially - was the most remarkable cooking fire they had ever encountered. The
fire seemed to have no fuel, nor to need any, and none of them had ever seen stew become
stew so quickly.

Then, when their bellies were full, the dragon explained to them what she needed. She
seemed, despite her great size and horrendous appearance, to be a pleasant enough dragon.
Her voice was low and comforting, her words simple enough for most of them to understand
and she even managed to seem to smile now and then. Quite a few of them discovered -
without ever considering that there might be a touch of magic involved here - that they
were really quite fond of the unfortunate Verden Leaf glow.

“The thing I need is a small thing,” she told the Highbulp. “It is a sort of stone, about
this big. ...” A huge, three-fingered “hand” with needle-sharp talons a foot long appeared
beside the green face, two talons indicating a size. About an inch and a half.

“Lotta stones 'round here,” Glitch said dubiously, looking around the cavern. "Whole lot
more outside,

though. Oughtta look outside of here.“ ”By all means,“ Verden agreed. ”Outside, of course.

And I am sure that, once you are outside, you wouldn't for a minute consider just going
off and leaving me, would you?"

“Nope,” Glitch shook his head, speaking just a bit too loudly. “Nope, wouldn' do that.
Sure wouldn'.”

“Of course you wouldn't,” Verden said softly. “Because that would be very unwise.”

“Sure would,” Glitch agreed emphatically. Then his face twisted in confusion. “How come
not wise?”

“Because only a few of you will go out to search,” the dragon hissed. Suddenly, as subtly
as the narrowing of her eyes, all hints of the “friendly” dragon were gone and the gully
dwarves saw Verden Leaf glow as she really was. “All the rest will remain here,” she said,
“with me.”

As they cowered away from her, she pointed with a huge talon. “You,” she said, pointing at
old Gandy. “You will search. And you.” This time she pointed at Tagg. “You two, and three
more. The rest stay. The way out is here” - a talon turned, pointing - “just behind my
head.”

Some of them crept closer to look. Just behind the “hole,” on her right side, was a
crevice in the rubble. Tagg grabbed Minna's hand and headed for the opening. Abruptly, the
dragon moved her head, blocking the way. “Not the female,” Verden hissed. “She stays.”

Verden knew her choices were right. The old gully dwarf with the mop handle staff was,
within the limits of Aghar intelligence, the smartest of them all. He would search well,
and he was the least likely to wander off. The young male was the same one who had slid
past her to look into her lair. For his kind, he had a certain courage and a degree of
curiosity. And it was unlikely that he would flee, as long as the dragon had the female he
favored.

She would also keep the one they called Highbulp. The rest had a certain dim loyalty to
him, she sensed - probably more than he had to any of them.

She moved her head again. “Go. Now! Find the disk that cut me. The stone should be nearby.”

Tagg and Gandy darted past the dragon's jaws and through the opening, Tagg glancing back
at Minna with frightened eyes. As soon as they were out, others hurried

to follow them. Verden let three others pass, then blocked the way again.

Verden relaxed. There was a chance the gully dwarves would find the self-stone. It was
somewhere nearby. She could sense its presence, dimly. There was a chance they would
recover it for her. If not . . . well, then she would just have to kill them and try to
find it, herself.

As her eyes closed, the hostages began to chatter among themselves. She ignored them, then
opened one eye in mild curiosity. “Promised place?” she murmured. “What promised place?”

From his refuge behind a rank of his subjects, Glitch peeked out at her. “P . . . Promised
Place,” he said. “Where we s'posed to go. Our de . . . density.”

“Density? You mean, destiny?” “Right. Dest'ny.” “And where is the Promised Place?”
“Dunno,” Glitch admitted. “Nobody know.” She closed her eye again, bored with the
“density” of

gully dwarves. Within seconds she was asleep.

*****

With Clout and two others - Gogy and Plit - following them, Gandy and Tagg made their way
back to where they had found the dented disk. The dragon had said to look there, and they
were in no mood to argue with a dragon.

More than a day had passed. Maybe two or three days, for all they knew. The smoke that had
lingered above the ruined city was gone now, blown away, and only bleak rubble remained.
But otherwise, things were as they had been . . . almost. Rounding a turn in a ravine
among rubble, the five heard voices ahead. Clinging to shadow, they crept forward to see
who was there. Tagg was the first to see, and he almost bowled the others over,
backpedaling. Talls,“ he whispered. ”Sh!"

From the shadowed mouth of a “tunnel” where great stones had fallen across the gaps
between other stones, they peered out.

The humans ahead of them were ragged and scarred. There were two of them, and they were
working frantically at the great, tumbled skeleton of the fallen

discobel, turning its huge crank inch by inch as the long throwing arm rose above them.
Lying on its side, the sidearm thing became a slanted pole, its outward end creeping
toward the sky above the sheer walls of rubble around them.

“No business . . . comin' this way ... in the first place,” one of them grunted, heaving
at the windlass of the crank. “Nothin' here . . . just ruins.”

“Shut up!” the other hissed. “Your fault we ... fell in this - canyon . . . now pull. . .
harder . . . only way to ... get out of here.”

In the shadows. Clout whispered, “What Talls doin'?”

“Dunno,” Gandy shrugged. “Tall stuff don' make sense. Hush.”

Slowly, out in the little clear area (which was, indeed, like a deep canyon among sheer
walls, if one looked at it as a human would, not seeing the many avenues of exit that were
like highways to gully dwarves), the two men labored at the discobel's windlass and the
sling arm rose inch by inch. Several times they had to stop and rest, but finally the arm
stood straight up, its tip only a few feet from the nearest wall of stone.

The men looked up. “That'll do,” one of them panted. “Let's tie it off. I'd hate to have
that thing trigger itself while we're climbing up there.”

The other paled at the thought, and trembled. “Gods,” he muttered. “Splat!”

“Shut up and tie this thing off with something. Here, what's this? The set-pin?” He picked
up a sturdy cylinder of worked hardwood, about three feet long, and glanced from it to the
barrel of the discobel. “Yeah, there's its slot. Hold that windlass 'til I get this in
place.”

With the other bracing the windlass, he set the pin in its slot and tapped it with a rock
to firm it. The other eased off on the crank, eased a bit more, then stood back, sighing
in relief. The pin held. The machine remained motionless.

“Let's get out of here,” one of them said. Gingerly, he stepped to the base of the
cranked-up arm and grasped it. Using its guy-bars as hand- and foot-holds, he began to
climb. The other followed. From below, they looked like a pair of squirrels climbing a
huge tree trunk, except that instead of branches, the trunk had triangles of cable

bracings, held outward by heavy wooden guy-bars. They climbed higher and higher. At the
top they hesitated, then swung from the tip of the arm to the top of the jagged wall, and
disappeared from sight. Their voices faded, and were gone.

“Wonder what that all about,” Tagg muttered. He scratched his head and looked around,
puzzled. There was something he was supposed to do, but he had become so engrossed in
watching the Talls that he had forgotten what it was. The others had, too, but after a
moment old Gandy snapped his fingers. “Find stone for dragon,” he reminded them. “Stone
'bout this big.”

They stepped out from the “tunnel” and peered around. “Lotta stones 'bout that big, all
over,” Tagg pointed out. “Which one?”

“Dunno,” Gandy admitted. “Better take 'em all.”

They set to work gathering small stones - all except Clout, who had lost his bashing tool
somewhere and felt uncomfortable without it. He set about finding a new bashing tool.

With Gandy selecting rocks, and Tagg, Plit, and Gogy collecting them, they had a nice pile
of stones going by the time Clout found what he was looking for. It was a sturdy cylinder
of polished hardwood, resting among the inexplicable vagaries of the great wooden device
lying in the rubble.

It was exactly what he wanted, but it seemed to be stuck. He pulled at it, heaved at it,
and it budged slightly but would not come free. Frowning with determination, he clambered
out of the maze of timbers, found a good, heavy stone, and went back in.

Clout had a philosophy of life - only one, but it had always served him well. His
philosophy was: if a thing won't move when you want it to move, bash it.

From outside, they heard him hammering in there - among the maze of timbers - and looked
up. “What Clout doin'?” Plit asked.

“Dunno,” Gandy shrugged, frowning. “Not gettin' stones, though.”

The hammering went on, and then its ringing took on a new sound. After each thud,
something creaked, and far above - though those below didn't notice it - the great braced
arm began to tremble.

“Almos' got it,” Clout's voice came from the timbers.

He banged again, and again, and abruptly the whole world went crazy. The entire maze of
timbers groaned, crackled and heaved upward, seeming to dance. And the tall, heavy arm
above shot downward, with such force that the air sang around it. It arched toward the
ground, impelled by the released windlass, and smashed into the soil only yards from where
the other gully dwarves were stacking their rocks.

The impact was enormous. Gully dwarves, rocks and surrounding rubble flew upward. Partial
walls that still stood among the rubble teetered and fell, and a cloud of dust rose to
blank out everything from sight. Below the dancing rubble, a deep, cavernous rumble
sounded, and in its echoes came a muted roar of surprise and outrage. The very ground
seemed to fall, resettling several feet lower than it had been.

For a time there was silence, then the dust blanketing the ground shifted and a small head
came up. “Wha' happen?” Tagg asked.

Around him, others arose from the dust, wide-eyed and shaken. Plit and Gogy appeared
first, then old Gandy, coughing and spitting dust.

“Wha' happen?” someone echoed Tagg's question.

Gandy looked around, bewildered. Then he looked up and blinked. “Fling-thing fall down,”
he said.

Not far away, the maze of timbers that had been a discobel was now an entirely different
maze. It had rolled over, its timbers realigning in the process. At first the gully
dwarves could see no movement there, then there were scuffing sounds and Clout appeared,
crawling from a gap between broken spars. He got out, dusted himself off and blinked at
the rest of them.

“Where Clout been?” Gandy demanded.

Clout held up a sturdy cylinder of polished wood. “Got new bashin' tool,” he explained.
“Wha' happen out here?”

The carefully-collected pile of rocks was gone - scattered all over the clearing. Gandy
sighed and began again to pick up stones. The others watched for a moment, then joined
him. And as other gully dwarves appeared, chattering, Gandy silenced them with a glare.
“No talk,” he snapped. “Get rocks.”

Soon there were dozens of them there, all busily

picking up stones. And then more, and then still more. Suddenly, Tagg glanced around and
saw Minna

beside him, gathering rocks. He blinked, frowned and remembered. “What Minna doin' out
here?” he asked. “Gettin' little rocks,” she explained. "Somebody say

to.“ ”Where dragon? Let everybody go?“ ”Hole fall down,“ she said. ”Dragon can't move.
Foun'

new gully, though, for come out.“ ”Oh." He looked around. There were gully dwarves

everywhere, all collecting stones. But to Tagg, that didn't seem quite as important as it
had before. He went and found Gandy, and explained the situation to him. “Dragon don' got
everybody anymore.” he said. “Look.”

It took a lot longer for Gandy to get everyone to stop collecting rocks than it had taken
to get them to start. Inertia is a powerful force among gully dwarves. But finally they
were all gathered around Gandy and someone asked, “What we do now?”

“Dunno,” he said. “Ask Highbulp.” He turned full circle, searching. “Where
what's-'is-name?”

“Who?” “Th' Highbulp! Ol' Glitch. Where th' Highbulp?” None of them knew, so they went
looking for Glitch I.

They found him, eventually, right where they had left him.

Glitch had slept through the “earthquake,” only to wake up and find everyone gone. He sat
up, rubbed his eyes and noticed that the stones had shifted and a new tunnel had opened.
So he headed that way, grumbling. It was just like his subjects to wander off and leave
their leader to catch up when he got around to it.