Maldred reached Fetch just as another two dwarves appeared. "A half-dozen," the big man growled. "And there'll be more coming if we don't take them out quick. Might be more coming anyway." He immediately sized up his opponents. "Stay down," he told the kobold. Then he was dodging quarrels from their crossbow bolts, bringing his sword around to parry some that «thwanged» off the blade as he scrabbled over the loose gravel and gems. As he neared, he shouldered his sword, bent down, and scooped up a handful of rocks, bringing his arm over his back and hurling them at the closest dwarf. Several found their marks, and one of the dwarves dropped his crossbow and rubbed furiously at his eyes.
The others were loosening battle-axes from their waists and readying to meet Maldred's charge. He shouted as he closed the distance. "You haven't a chance against me! Lose your weapons and I'll spare your lives!"
The thickest of the quartet laughed loud and deep. He stopped only when Maldred was upon them, swinging his massive blade. The sword practically cut the lead dwarf in two, and then Maldred drew back the weapon and brought it down to cleave off the arm of another dwarf. One of the others started scrambling up the hill, calling for support, this being the one who had laughed so heartily. The rest gritted their teeth and one hollered, "Die, trespasser!"
"Life is precious," Maldred said as he drew back his blade again, muscles tensing and veins bulging. "You are very foolish to throw it away."
The dwarves were dead by the time Dhamon reached Maldred. Dhamon sheathed his sword, knelt, and tugged a thong free from one of the dwarves' necks. Dangling from it was a large, beautifully cut diamond, the largest he'd seen. Dhamon hung it around his own neck and started searching the other bodies, retrieving finished stones set in gold and silver and stuffing them into his pockets.
The big man was shielding his eyes from the light of the crystals in the rocks and craning his neck up the mountainside, looking for the dwarf who got away. "Can't see in this glare. But I know we'll have company soon," he told Dhamon.
"Aye. Let's take what we've gathered and get out of here. And let's be quick. We certainly have more than enough to buy the sword. We could buy all of Bloten, I suspect, with what we've gained."
Fetch grabbed his sacks, struggling under the weight and making his way slowly up the mountainside. Mal-dred glanced back at his collecting spot, where four bulging bags waited. "Very quick," he added to himself.
Dhamon whirled and headed toward his own sacks, noting Rikali was continuing to stuff gems into one, her arms practically a blur, her tunic plastered against her back with sweat. He scrabbled over the rocks and spires and was almost at her side when two steel-tipped quarrels shot through the air, one whizzing by his shoulder, slicing through his sleeve, the other lodging itself in his right thigh, finding its way to the scale affixed there.
He shouted from surprise, falling back and clutching at his leg.
"Remove the scale, and you'll die," he heard the long-dead Dark Knight say. Then the Knight was gone and Dhamon was writhing on the mountainside in the Valley of Crystal. A wail escaped him, long and unnerving, one that brought a choked sob from the half-elf.
She threw herself on him, wrapping her slender fingers around the quarrel and tugging gently. "Maldred!" she called, "By my breath, Mai, help me!" She continued to tug, mindless of the dozen dwarves who had loosed the last of their quarrels and were now charging down the mountain toward her and Dhamon. "Maldred!"
Dhamon gasped for air. All he could feel was intense heat and excruciating pain covering every inch of his body, turning him into a human furnace. "Damn this scale!"
Within moments the dwarves were on the pair, gleaming axes raised, intent on slaying the two trespassers. Rikali tried to shield Dhamon. "I said we were gonna die, lover," she muttered, as the first axe came down…
And clanged loudly against Dhamon's upraised sword. Despite the pain, he'd managed to scramble away from her and rise to his feet. "I'm not going to die today," he told the half-elf as he pushed her away. He whipped the blade about and shoved the tip through a dwarf's wrist. Maldred raced to his side, and the big man gave no warning to the dwarves this time. He waded into their midst and began swinging. "Join us, Riki!" he shouted. "Any time, please!"
The half-elf picked herself up and drew her wavy-edged dagger, hurling it deep into the throat of a dwarf coming her way, one who wrongly had decided that fighting her was an easier proposition than taking on Maldred or Dhamon.
All of the dwarves were heavily armored despite the summer heat. The half-elf tugged free her blade and moved on to another one. She had to look for openings in their defenses, jabbing her blade at the joints in the thick plates.
