He aimed a skull-crushing overhand blow at her and over extended slightly. In that moment, she noticed a talisman hanging from a leather cord around his neck. It was a foul thing with red glowing stones for eyes and was also where the demon stench was originating.
She danced away and rather than take his head from his shoulders—although she found the opening—she turned her blade and struck him with the flat of her sword on the side of his head. It was like hitting a tree bole and the shock that ran up her arm nearly numbed it to the shoulder.
The dwarf barely blinked and came straight at her. She hesitated only a moment, then leapt to her left, straight into the dwarf’s next blow, but rather than take it anywhere vital, she couched under it, which was no mean feat against a foe barely taller than five feet, then came up behind him.
Before he could turn, she reached out and snatched at the leather thong holding the talisman in place. She ripped it from him and tossed it away.
It was as if she had struck him between the eyes with the hammer he was holding. He stumbled, half-turned, then fell backwards, landing on his rear. He sat in the dust, blinking as if blinded by brilliant lights, then let out a long sigh. His eyes finally focused on her and he said, ‘What? Who are…?’ He looked around, and Sandreena followed his gaze.
No one on the wall had witnessed their confrontation, but more workers were coming into view. Instead of leaping to his feet and alerting the others of an intruder, the dwarf crawled towards her, grabbed her by the leg and hissed, ‘Get down, for the gods sake!’
Sandreena knelt, but kept her sword pointed at the dwarf. ‘You going to keep trying to kill me?’
The dwarf looked confused. ‘Kill you? Woman, I don’t know who you are, but if you’re not working for them—’—he pointed towards the fortress—‘—then you’re my new best friend.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Keandar, son of Kendrin of Dorgin.’
She nodded, motioning for him to crawl with her back under the shelter of the wagon. Dorgin was the dwarven city closest to their current location, a tiny state on the border of Great Kesh and the Kingdom of the Isles.
‘What is this place?’
‘That’s a long tale, one I would prefer to recount as far away from here as possible.’ He glanced under the wagon and said, ‘Some of my kin are in there, and I mean to get back to Dorgin, tell the king, and return with every war hammer we can raise.’
Sandreena knew it would take more than a small army of dwarves to deal with what was forming here, but she decided that debate could wait. ‘Can you tell me what is going on in there?’
‘Aye, some,’ he said, ‘but only a bit. I was used as a guard, mostly, though those of my people with skills, the engineers, smiths and mongers, and the stone masons, were given jobs inside. But we spoke a little while we ate, when we ate.’
‘Come on,’ she said, glancing at the position of the Little Moon. ‘I have a horse and we can ride double, but it’s some distance from here and we need to reach it by sunrise.’
‘Sunrise?’
‘Or one of my order will be taking it back to Durbin without me.’
‘Ah,’ said the dwarf. ‘You’re not alone?’
‘No,’ said Sandreena. ‘There are two others.’
‘Well, let’s have a leisurely chat when we’re miles from here. You lead, I’ll follow.’
Sandreena nodded once and crouched, then scampered from the wagons to the first pile of rocks and began the long return to the gully that would take her past the guard house. When she reached it, she turned to Keandar and said, ‘We need to slip past that guard.’
‘Why not just go there and quickly kill him? It’s only an elf.’
‘We may have them after us when you don’t return,’ she said, ‘but they’ll send a larger hunting party if they find a dead sentry in that post.’
He sighed, as if he were disappointed, then said, ‘Very well. They don’t keep close track of us, mostly because of those things they make us wear. They sap our freewill and muddle our minds.’
‘Tell me about it later,’ said Sandreena, and Keandar nodded. To herself she muttered, ‘If there is a later.’
Dawn found a very nervous Farson waiting in the designated spot, with all three horses tacked up and ready to ride. He had his sword out as Sandreena hove into view, and was about to strike when she called him by name.
‘Sergeant?’ he asked looking at the dwarf.
‘This is Keandar of Dorgin. If anything happens and I fall, you must get him to Sorcerer’s Island.’
Farson’s eyes widened. ‘Sorcerer’s Island? Sergeant, no one goes to—’
‘Sorcerer’s Island.’
‘But Krondor—’
Firmly, she said, ‘Sorcerer’s Island.’ She looked around, then asked, ‘Jaliel?’
Farson shook his head.