The Revenge of the Dwarves

XVI

Girdlegard,

Queendom of Weyurn,

Southeastern Border, Port of Shale,

Late Summer, 6241st Solar Cycle

The befuns had proved their hardiness and stamina. In just a few orbits Tuagdil and his company had covered the distance to Weyurn-one that would have taken a rider on a horse three times as long.

They had increased their speed after meeting people on the road who spoke of having seen strange creatures ahead of them-or rather, stranger creatures than the ones in their own troop.

But nature was not on their side. Shortly before they reached the port of Shale night fell, bringing a shroud of thick fog. The befuns resolutely settled for their rest as usual, forcing Tungdil and his companions to cover the last four miles at a run. Flagur carried Lot-Ionan, who could not manage the pace.

By the time they reached the town gates of Shale, Tungdil and Rodario were bathed in perspiration and gasping for breath. They were admitted on the authority of Queen Wey, but the guards kept their weapons raised, not trusting the dangerous-looking orcs. How were they to know that the ubariu did not share the orcish appetite for human flesh?

The captain gave them an escort and ensured they were provided with everything they needed for their mission.

“This way to the port,” called Tungdil, hurrying through one of the narrow alleyways that led down to the quayside. A wide range of boats and ships lay at anchor, emerging like ghosts from the mist.

“Take this one,” said the seafarer Sirka, indicating a small anonymous-looking sailing boat. “It’s quite light, with a keel built for speed and a tall mast. We can hoist a lot of canvas and get to the island very quickly.”

“Right. Off we go.” Tungdil sent one of the guards on board the Waveskimmer to rouse the crew. The man ran up the gangway and jumped on deck, then disappeared from view.

They heard him call out and soon a second voice, rough and bad-tempered, answered. A short sharp argument ended with the guard unceremoniously flying over the railings into the harbor. Two fellow sentries helped haul him out.

“Let me guess. The captain said no?” An amused Rodario interpreted the situation.

“And said we could lick his arse,” nodded the watchman, cursing and reaching for his sword. “I’ll show the idiot.”

Flagur made a face. “Let me speak to the captain,” he said and stomped off up the gangway; the ramp creaked under his heavy steps.

“Someone’s going to wish they had cooperated the first time,” grinned Rodario.

There was no discussion. This time the captain was the one sent flying. He missed the corner of the pier, landed on the hard cobbles and lay there, befuddled.

“It’s your own fault, Kordin,” the guard told him, drenching the mariner with a bucket of water.

The cold water woke him out of his daze. With a bloody nose and a few abrasions Kordin stood up and looked out to his ship, where Flagur stood on deck, his stout arms on the rail. “What sort of a creature is that to let loose on an honest sailor? Why didn’t you kill it? That would have been the decent thing to do.”

“A friend,” said Tungdil baldly. “Get the crew up. You have a vital mission for your queen.”

“If she pays, no problem. Otherwise be off with you.” Kordin was not in the least bit impressed, but that was about to change very quickly.

With a loud metallic clanking sound a spherical object comprised of two iron bands came rolling at high speed toward them and swept right through their midst.

The rune master and three of the watch, unable to step out of the way, were run down by the vehicle, crushed between iron and pier.

“That’s the monster that robbed King Nate!” cried Rodario from behind the pillar where he had taken shelter. “At least we know we’ve caught up with them.”

The ubariu drew their swords but quickly realized they were useless against such an attack.

The sphere had stopped rolling; then it changed course, heading for them again.

On the narrow pier there was little room to get out of the way; this time the victims were the captain, one of the ubariu and two guards. The harbor air was rent by their screams.

“Flagur!” Tungdil shouted up to the ubariu leader. “Use the hook on the freight crane, quickly!”

Flagur understood. He swiveled the crane so that it was suspended over the pier, then released the winding mechanism just as the sphere launched its third attack. The rope unrolled with a whirr.

The hook clanged against the metal and the curved end caught in a gap between the iron bands. Creaking, the thick rope brought the huge ball to a standstill.

“Hoist it up!” Tungdil ordered and started for the ramp to help Flagur reel it in. Suddenly there was a loud click.

Some hidden fastenings in the sphere opened and the metal bands, broad as two fingers, slid closer to each other. The hook shot out, losing its grip. Now, instead of disappearing into the rucksack on the creature’s body as they’d done back in Goldensheaf, they transformed themselves into a shield, protecting the monster.

It was the fourth of the bastards, a crossbred mixture of alfar and orc.

Its dark skin shimmered in the starlight, showing black wavy lines; the graceful but repellent features were mostly concealed behind locks of black hair. Opening its muzzle to show sharp teeth it growled aggressively. “I will kill you all,” it vowed, drawing what appeared to be a multi-segmented sword. Abruptly it went into the attack, turning on the ubari standing nearest.

As the weapon swept in a wide curve the sword segments slipped apart. Inside, the weapon was hollow and contained a slender chain connecting the individual parts of the blade, giving the sword twice the normal range.

It struck the ubari unexpectedly and lethally, the flexible blade colliding with his sword, lifted in defense, and the sharp tip coiling round it like a snake and cutting him deep in the face. He fell dying to the ground.

The guards held their halberds ready but lacked the courage to advance on this terrifying enemy, whose lower body seemed to consist entirely of iron. Metal plates decorated with runes were sewn into its flesh to protect the upper body.

The monster moved forward, the iron foot grating against the stone. It was clearly extremely heavy. Again it brandished its cunning weapon and struck again, this time at Tungdil.

He managed to duck under the green-glowing blade, nearly falling off the wet slippery gangway as he did so.

The strange sword swung through the air and sliced through the ramp; the dwarf plunged into the water as the broken gang-plank fell. The waves met over his head and he sank like a stone.

He was overwhelmed with fear. This was Elria’s element and suddenly he was reliving the terrible moment when he had fallen into the torrent that had drowned his young son. A thousand bubbles disorientated him; he could not see which way was up. He paddled around in a panic, splashing out wildly. Then he forced himself to be calm. It was panic that had robbed him of Balodil.

He abandoned trying to swim to the surface; his armor was probably too heavy for that anyway. Instead he felt his way along the wall to get to the quayside where, if his memory served, there were steps he should be able to climb up.

The bottom was soft and he sank into it. He was short of air already, but then his foot met the first step. Elria would not get him this time.

Above his head he heard the sound of metal striking metal; a flickering green light gave a ghostly glow to the stern of the ship. He could hear curses and shouts. This was no time to take a rest.

“There! There he is!” Rodario had leaned over the harbor wall and seen him. “Praise be to Palandiell-he’s not food for fishes yet.” He disappeared again, obviously keen to participate in the fighting.

Tungdil reached the pier; only eight ubariu were left standing now. The guards all lay dead or gravely injured. The creature had formed two small shields from its iron bands, and was using them to protect its flanks while it wielded its snake-sword, forcing the ubariu to keep their distance.

Tungdil lifted a halberd in both hands and ran straight for the creature’s back.

It sensed his approach and whirled round to attack, but Tungdil was too far away to fall victim to the segmented sword. One of the shields was raised to protect the monster’s face, but Tungdil thrust his halberd at the monster’s right foot. The sharp tip penetrated the armor plating, and black blood gushed out of the wound. It wasn’t a deadly wound but that hadn’t been Tungdil’s intention. He had something else in mind. A quick turn and a swift pulling movement and the long hook at the head of the weapon lodged between the armor plates.

“Take the halberds,” he called to the ubariu. “Keep stabbing at its legs, then we’ll have it over and into the water. Hold it fast so it doesn’t escape.”

The iron bands slammed down in an attempt to break off the halberd shaft, but it was sturdy enough to withstand the blow. Tungdil responded by shaking the weapon to and fro.

The ubariu picked up the weapons of the fallen guards and came to assist the dwarf, managing to force the monster ever closer to the edge of the pier. It hit out with the snake sword in fury, slicing through one halberd shaft after another. “I shall kill you,” its clear voice called.

“For Girdlegard!” came a rallying cry above their heads and Rodario swung down on the crane’s rope, feet outstretched, to crash into one of the monster’s shields.

The irreverent assault took it by surprise. Weight and momentum allowed the actor to sweep the monster over the pier edge and into the harbor. As it fell it aimed a final blow at Rodario, cutting the calf of one leg. Then it sank below the surface.

“Oh, ye gods,” groaned the actor, swinging back again, to be helped down by the ubariu. “Oh, that hurts like stink.” He sat down on the pier. “But I was incredibly incredible again, wasn’t I?” he joked, in spite of his injury.

“Yes, incredible,” Lot-Ionan confirmed. There was nothing more he could do for the rune master, so he was kneeling next to the actor to inspect the wound. “That will have to have stitches,” he said. “It will leave a fine scar.”

“It’s a good thing that accursed weapon didn’t get me in the face. My good looks would have gone forever.”

“Well done.” Tungdil was staring into the water, and the ubariu were standing to his right and left, halberds raised, ready to hurl them at the monster should it resurface.

Bubbles came up and there was a glow from the depths.

“Sirka,” called Tungdil, pointing at a heavy ship’s anchor hanging from a nearby vessel. “Drop it. Quick!”

She took a plank, leaned it up against the side of the ship, ran up and along the deck to the bows, and released the anchor. It shot into the water with an enormous splash, and the next bubbles that rose brought black liquid with them.

“Right,” said Tungdil to the waiting ubariu, “heave up the anchor and drop it again.”

They did what he asked, noticing bent strips of iron with scraps of flesh attached to them caught on the tip of the anchor as they hauled it up. When they dropped it a second time, the water quickly changed color as though there were a thunder cloud directly under the surface.

They repeated the procedure a few more times until they could be positive there was no life left in the monster. Even if the injuries had not killed it, it would certainly have drowned by now.

More guards had arrived on the scene; Lot-Ionan described to their leader what had occurred, but he struggled to grasp what had befallen his men. They looked as though a millstone had flattened them.

For the ubariu rune master, too, the encounter with the monster had meant the end. This meant Lot-Ionan was the only being who could confront the unslayable with magic.

“Bring some nets and drag the bottom,” he commanded.

Tungdil shook Rodario by the hand. “Excellently done, Incredible One. Without you it would have gone badly awry.”

“Only a relatively small contribution. And only a slight wound.” His gaze wandered over the bodies lying on the pier. “Compared with the toll of victims.”

Lot-Ionan got to his feet. “We must make haste. I think the unslayable is already on his way to the island.”

“Will you be all right?” Tungdil helped Rodario up.

“I’ll have to be,” he replied through clenched teeth. “Who else could put on a performance like that?” Together they made their way up the gangway and boarded the ship.

Sirka took command without further ado. The sailors were surprised but obeyed without question. There were forty of the royal guard on board now and the Waveskimmer had been commandeered in the queen’s name. Mutiny was punishable by death.

“Here,” called one of the soldiers in a rowing boat, making for the place where the monster had sunk. They threw hooks overboard and came up with a torn-off arm. The ironclad fingers moved with a clicking noise; to produce this monster thin bolts and rivets had forced the flesh to join metal and limb. Shrieking with disgust, the guard threw the find back into the water. Another man pulled up a distorted metal rucksack, lumps of bloody flesh clinging to the bands of metal that had previously transfixed the body of the monster. This catch was likewise tossed back into the waters of the port.

Sirka gave the order to cast off and for all sails to be set. They left harbor, taking course for the island.

“It’s dead,” sighed Rodario with relief. “One less of them.”

“There’s still one at large. And then there’s the unslayable.” Tungdil sat down and was given something to eat and drink. He was completely exhausted. The journey and fighting had taken everything out of him. And his empty eye socket was burning like red-hot coals.

After Sirka had dispensed a dose of pain-killing powder, he dozed. The fog worried him before he fell asleep: it was playing tricks. It looked as though the executioner Bramdal was standing on the quay.

Girdlegard,

Queendom of Weyurn,

Twenty Miles Northeast of Mifurdania,

Late Summer, 6241st Solar Cycle

T he fog refused to lift. On the contrary, it seemed keen to protect the unslayable one.

It was folly to head out over the lake in such visibility with all sails set. A collision with a floating log or rock could scupper them, yet, not knowing how far ahead their enemies were, they took the risk.

“If only I knew how they managed to overtake us.” Flagur was infuriated.

“You saw what strength these creatures possess,” Lot-Ionan consoled him. “And no one knows what an unslayable is capable of.” On his own and about to face an opponent who could use magic, he was feeling apprehensive. There was no Dergard to help him out. And no rune master either. “Will you still be able to put the stone in the artifact?”

“How do you mean, Lot-Ionan?” asked Flagur, noticing that Sirka was getting the sails furled. The helmsman had told her they were approaching the place where the island had last been sighted.

“Your rune master is dead. Wouldn’t you have needed him to activate the artifact?”

“Absolutely. Our rune master is dead. But there is another one. The acronta have one, though it won’t be easy to get him to help.” The ubari looked worried at the prospect. “They like the challenge of facing the Black Abyss beasts in battle. It’s like telling a small child not to fight the older boys. They don’t understand that they can’t win in the long run.” He looked at the wizard. “You are a magus. It would probably be simple for you to implant the diamond.”

“I’m not familiar with these artifacts, you know,” he confessed. “But I will certainly come with you. Otherwise it may be too late for both your homeland and ours.”

Peering out into the mist, the watch called out a warning; then something collided with the sailing ship’s bows.

“What was that?” shouted Sirka. “Any damage?”

“The planks are sound,” came the reassuring reply. “It was driftwood probably. Maybe from another vessel; part of the hull, perhaps.”

Tungdil was glad Sirka had reduced their sail area. If they had been traveling any faster the impact would have holed them.

As they got nearer to the island the Waveskimmer hit more floating wreckage. A troubling thought occurred to Tungdil: What was it they were sailing through?

“Where are Queen Wey’s warships? The ones sent to protect the island?” a worried Rodario asked. “They should have…” He fell silent. “Curse the alfar!” he said, catching sight of Tungdil’s expression. “He’s sunk them?”

“Do you have another explanation, Fabuloso?” Land loomed up through the mist. “The island’s still there. We…”

A column of blazing flame shot out from the mountainside, penetrating the mist; then a second one flashed bright fire into the night. Although they were a good hundred paces from the shoreline a wave of heat rolled over them. Smaller tongues of fire emerged from the main flame, forming a corona round the tip of the island. The light-show caught everyone’s appalled attention.

“It’s going down!” Tungdil could see what was happening. The unslayable was burning off gas and flooding the chambers to sink the island so that it would be out of reach. Would Lot-Ionan be able to magic himself down there to overcome the immortal enemy and the bastard? He thought it unlikely. “We’ve got to get there before it disappears. Full ahead, Sirka. Don’t worry about the ship now.”

The mariners looked at each other fearfully, uncertain what to do.

Tungdil went up to the nearest of them. “We must take this risk or else be blamed for all the misfortunes Girdlegard will suffer,” he insisted. “We can only defeat the evil by landing on the island.”

The sailors started to move, acting on his orders although aware it could mean the end for their ship. Tungdil recalled how the initial capture of the island had cost two ships. It must not happen again.

The Waveskimmer increased speed and with each new bump they feared they might be taking in water. Prayers to Elria were offered ceaselessly; the sailors would do nothing without asking the goddess for her protection.

The island sank quickly, flames extinguished now that the gas had been burned off.

Under Rodario’s direction the helmsman maneuvered them close enough for the ubariu, Tungdil and company to jump onto the slowly submerging island. The flat shoreline was already under water.

Rodario gasped in pain when he landed. His injured leg hurt hellishly. “That way,” he said, indicating a narrow rock chimney. “Climb down there. It ends in a chamber leading inside.”

The last bit they had to jump. It was a good twenty paces down but there was already enough ballast water at the bottom to make it safe for them to do so.

“What have I let myself in for?” sighed Rodario. Lot-Ionan nodded in silent sympathy.

One by one they dropped into the foaming water, then climbed the stone steps to get through a hatch to the passageway. Water was pouring from their clothing and shoes, the drops leaving a dark trail. A trail that could betray them.

“I know where we are.” Tungdil had used his dwarf instincts well on his first visit: he pointed to the right. “That leads to the furnace, I think. If we go through it we come to the operating room for the boilers, don’t we?”

Rodario nodded. “We should find the unslayable one there. Somebody must be using the controls.”

They advanced cautiously, amazed at the appearance of the cave where once the furnaces had stood.

The molten iron that had cascaded down, threatening to engulf Tungdil and his friends, had hardened below into solid blocks like gray ice floes. Above, dripping ore had formed stalactites, or solidified on the rock in sheets of metal. It was a weird and wonderful sight.

“Go on,” mouthed Tungdil, approaching the damaged hatch in the boiler room. It had been struck by a heavy object of some kind; distorted, the round door hung from its hinges.

“Do you think the alfar is still here?” asked Rodario, drawing his sword. “Three to fight would be too many.”

“No, I don’t think he’ll have waited for us,” Tungdil said to allay his friend’s anxiety. He entered the area that had once housed the gigantic furnaces and boilers.

Their first foe was already there.

A huge monster three and a half paces high stood next to the nearest furnace. Its arms were poles of glass and metal bars. On its head sat a tionium helmet formed like a death’s head. It was whimpering and trying frantically to get the valve wheels to work, obviously trying to prevent the island from submerging. So far it had not noticed the intruders. Rune-adorned axes were stowed on its back in a large quiver resting on top of its black armor.

“What a giant,” murmured Flagur, sounding delighted.

“Anyone see the unslayable?” asked Rodario, peering around in the half light.

“Let’s deal with this misbegotten fiend first. Then we’ll find the other one.” Flagur licked his lips in anticipation. “I wonder what it tastes like. Never tried one.”

The monster froze, its huge fingers still on the controls, and it looked back over its shoulder. A large tear slipped down from under the helmet and dripped over the lipless mouth.

“Why did he do it?” it whined. “I was a good son! I was always a good son.” The long pins connecting helmet and skull banged against the iron cauldron above him. “He wants to kill me.”

“No, we want to kill you,” Flagur grinned and motioned his warriors forward.

“Stop!” Tungdil called them back. He approached the monster, recognizing its fear and wanting to turn this to their advantage. “Where is he, your father?” he asked softly.

“Gone,” it sobbed. “He left me here to kill you. But I know he wants me dead. I’m supposed to die at the same time.” It turned round, grabbing different valves now and spinning them randomly in its panic. The pressure indicators shot up and high over their heads came the screech of escaping steam. “I don’t want to drown.”

From where he stood, five weapon lengths away, Tungdil could read the rune on its helmet: eight. “Where did he go?” he asked the creature.

“He promised we’d go through the tunnel together,” it muttered to itself, like a sulky child.

The contrast between its tremendous stature and the way it spoke and acted was almost pathetic, but the sight of the black gums and white fangs in its terrifying mouth made Tungdil shudder in revulsion. “Do you know where the tunnel is? We could take you there.” He swallowed. “I’m a scientist. I know how the machine works.”

The weird creature let go of the controls and swiveled round. “You do?” Under the oversized helmet its eyes sparkled green. “But the originator told me to kill you as soon as you arrive.” It was overwhelmed. It could not reconcile its duty and its wish to survive.

Tungdil read the simple creature’s mind. It intended to accept his suggestion, then kill them all as soon as they surfaced.

“Good. I’ll take you there,” it said, deception obvious in its voice. It stepped to one side and pointed to the controls. “Make it go up.”

“Tell me where the tunnel is and we’ll make the island go there.” Tungdil’s hand was on the lever. “But you must tell me the truth. The machine will know if you lie. It will screech and won’t obey me. It doesn’t like liars. It’ll just let us all drown.”

The creature had not expected that. Anxiously it surveyed the wall of controls, levers, wheels and indicators. “It’s in the… south,” it said, nervously.

Tungdil made the topmost valve expel whistling steam. “You’re lying!” he exclaimed, as if outraged. “Now we’ll all sink and drown.”

“Northwest!” it yelled. “Northwest, I swear! It’s in the cliff just under the giant’s nose! There’s a little sandbank with trees in front to hide the entrance.” The creature dropped to its knees in front of the boiler, its armored legs clanking against the stone floor. “Please, dear machine, don’t be angry. Bring us back up to the light!”

Tungdil was almost feeling sorry for it. “How does your father plan to get there?”

“Does it need to know?” The creature was astonished.

“Yes. The machine wants to get there first so that we can all go to the tunnel together.”

“The originator took one of the warships that were floating round the island.”

“And how did he destroy the other ones? With a diamond?”

“No.” It turned to face the dwarf. “I destroyed them. All five of them.” It lifted its shiny metal and green glass forearms as evidence of its ability. “With my special powers. I can use them whenever I want to.”

“Five,” murmured Rodario in dismay. “Would you credit it?”

The magus did not dare move. “It must be that alloy it has throughout its body. I’ve a feeling this monster may be the most dangerous and powerful of them all.” He glanced over to Flagur. “Whatever you do, don’t upset it. The weapons it’s carrying are the least of our worries.”

The ubari found it hard to do nothing, especially as the enemy seemed vulnerable, kneeling and not expecting an attack.

The island gave a shudder. It had reached the lake bed and the source.

“Make it go up,” begged the terrified hybrid, taking its two axes out. As soon as it clasped the handles in its gloved fists the runes shone out on weapons and armor alike.

“Yes, I’m going to,” Tungdil said calmly. “Watch.” He pushed and pulled a few of the levers.

Just as the creature was about to stand up, Flagur saw his chance. The opportunity must not be missed. He lunged forward with his warriors.

The hybrid acted fast, throwing an ax at its assailants; it split open one of the ubariu down the whole length of his body, spewing blood and guts on the stones. Then the creature raised its free hand, the glass cylinder glowing green.

A beam of light shot from it, knocking Flagur to the ground and hurling him against the back wall by the entrance.

He leaped to his feet with a roar. His breastplate showed a black scorch mark.

“No!” yelled the monster, throwing its second ax, but the ubari dodged the missile. “Not now!”

Tungdil took his own ax and thrust it into the creature’s naked shin while the monster’s attention was elsewhere. He knew why the creature was so horrified. Its magic had been used up. Destroying all five of the warships had exhausted its power store, making the monster considerably less dangerous than they had been assuming.

As black blood sprayed out, it roared and yelled, wrenching an iron bar from the platform railings over its head, and launching it at the dwarf.

Tungdil had to drop his ax and jump out of the way. The massive iron stave missed him and pierced the control wall, smashing dozens of levers and wheels or bending them out of shape, to complete the work of destruction the thirdlings had begun in the previous battle.

“No!” it cried out. “Look what you’ve done! You’ve made me break the machine!” It launched itself from the floor, springing high onto the next platform and leaping away. “I’ll kill you all!”

“Lot-Ionan!” Tungdil called. “Stop it recharging!”

The magician raised his hands and sent out a bright blue ray of light, missing the monster narrowly as it swerved at the last moment. The beam struck the middle of one of the boilers, releasing clouds of scalding steam from a hole the size of a mill stone.

Flagur and the ubariu stormed forward at Tungdil’s command; Sirka, Rodario and Lot-Ionan followed at a slight distance.

The magus continued trying to zap the monster in an effort to prevent it reaching the platform and taking on more magic. He failed. Some invisible power was deflecting the beams.

Tungdil and some of the troop stepped onto the lift, while the others operated the winding gear. He heartily wished he still had Keenfire. “Let us hope it doesn’t see us coming,” he said to Flagur.

The monster climbed nimbly onto the nearest boiler and leaped from there to land on the platform.

As soon as its feet touched down, greenish flames flickered up and surrounded the armored figure; sparks sizzled along the rods on its glass forearms where the magic force was concentrated, and from inside the hollow glass, light blazed like small suns.

The swaying lift cage arrived at platform level, and Tungdil pushed the door open.

“You shall die!” screamed the beast in fury. “It’s your fault I am stuck down here.” It raised both arms toward the exhausted magus.

“Palandiell, give me strength,” Lot-Ionan prayed, somehow managing to cast a protective spell. The enemy responded by shooting energy beams from its fingers.

Hissing, these beams encountered magic resistance. Lot-Ionan had conjured up a mirror spell, one of the simplest to effect. But even this straightforward incantation seemed to be failing in the face of some incomprehensible power. Was the creature tapping into the entire magic source and directing its power against him? His magic mirror cracked and splintered-with devastating consequences.

The beams were diffused into countless slender rays, radiating out as if from the sun, destroying everything in the cave they touched.

“Lie down!” Tungdil shouted to his comrades, throwing himself flat onto the platform and hoping the special alloy it was made from would absorb the swirling fields of energy.

But nothing was able to withstand the rays.

The pressurized combustion chambers exploded, punching holes the size of a dwarf’s fist into the rock walls; water started gushing in. Two of the ubariu fell victim to the sizzling death rays.

The monster itself suffered the same fate: randomly deflected beams hit him, one penetrating through its teeth into its mouth. Black smoke curled up from the impact spot. It uttered a roar of pain, fell backwards and plunged from the platform, several more deadly beams striking it before it crashed to the ground.

Tungdil stood up and surveyed the havoc all around him. Broad cracks were appearing on the cavern walls. The damaged rock would not withstand the pressure much longer. “Quick, everyone, get down again!” He leaped into the lift cage. “There’s only one way to escape death.”

Before they had reached ground level the roof fell in. A torrent of water cascaded in, threatening to engulf and drown them all: dwarves, ubariu and humans.