There were three survivors in total, three lone witnesses, who each claimed to have encountered the odious dwarves in the dark forest. It was not possible to verify these claims, since the dwarves themselves had left behind nothing on the order of concrete evidence; but it was logical to assume that no one would lie under such circumstances. The witnesses all looked dismal and all sounded morose, so even if they had claimed to have come across a demon, they would have still received a few nods. Commander Lyon summoned them to his office one by one, and in the presence of Vance and the Cromish Dawn, he proceeded to listen to their stories.

The first two witnesses were conscripted farmers who had been guarding two separate gold shipments. They had terrible accents and cried half the time. And even when they spoke, they often failed to find the words to describe what they had seen. Perhaps it was their emotional state hampering them; perhaps it was their lack of education. But the last witness was luckily different. He was a trader who had been transporting expensive garments from Cromsville. His papers proved his association with the Mercantile Union and showed that he had paid all his taxes. He seemed to be an upright citizen—or at least he was desperate to show so. Lyon asked him to sit down, and after he had settled and wiped his sweat, he began to tell his tale with composure and eloquence.

“I was traveling with my nephew and three guards when we saw them. Those wicked dwarves appeared out of nowhere. There were four … no, five of them. They stood on the other side of the barrier, outside the Saturn Tunnel, out there in the wilderness where the monsters lurk. I saw them first. Memory fails me a little, but I remember a red-beard and a shaman. They were waving at us and making the strangest gestures. I know nothing about dwarven magic, Amirani forbid, but I suspect the shaman was performing one of their heathen rituals. I ordered Oliver … sorry, my nephew, to drive faster and had the guards protect our rear. But they followed us. Those dwarves had it in for us.”

The merchant stopped to catch his breath—a ghastly expression on his face.

“Before we knew it, the red-beard had hammered the barrier. It was a mighty hammer he had. As big as his own body. And it swung with such force. I don’t know how they crafted such a weapon. They hammered the tunnel and made strange gestures. Shamanism, probably. Then they turned and disappeared into the deep darkness. I thought we’d escaped. I certainly did. But I was naive. The Saturn Tunnel, sir, was no more. Those dwarves had shattered it with their hammer and left us to be devoured by monsters. Oliver was torn into pieces in front of my very own eyes. My guards were ripped apart. And I alone survived by hiding inside one of my cargo chests.”

The merchant held his forehead as if to fight off the worst headache.

“For a whole hour, I lay there in that cramped space. Short of air. In the dark. Feeling death close. I saw my life flashing before my eyes. I thought back on all the days I spent in my tiny shop, and I wondered if I had actually lived. They’re so strange, sir, those thoughts that haunt you when death is close. We live. We work. We spend many days chasing wild dreams. And then we wake up to the sound of monster growls, and everything feels suddenly meaningless … But I’m grateful I survived. Those fiendish monsters couldn’t break the chest, and your men came and found me as I was. I’m grateful, sir. Very grateful.”

The testimony was over. At first glance, it seemed to be a personal account of a tragic event and nothing more. Indeed, as things stood now, the witnesses offered nothing of real use, nothing to track down the dwarves or foil their next attack. But Commander Lyon, with his hot temper and sharp tongue, clutched at every casual detail and began to squeeze more information out of his three guests. By asking the right questions, he first established a timeframe for the tragic encounters, and then he arrived at an interesting fact: It seemed that all three witnesses had crossed paths with the same group of five dwarves.

It was hard to tell individual dwarves apart from a distance, but this group of five were unique enough for identification. Prodded in the right direction, the conscripted farmers mentioned a fearsome hammer, a red-bearded wielder, a wolfskin cloak, and a staff of bird skulls. The dwarven warrior and shaman, whom the merchant had mentioned, were suddenly identified as the common force behind every tragedy. But that wasn’t all. When the timings of the attacks were combined with their locations, an even more interesting pattern surfaced: The dwarves were spotted at the junctions where the current trade route met with an old one.

“The gold wagons used to follow this old route, but it was abandoned in favor of the current one,” Commander Lyon said. “It seems the dwarves are using it to launch their sneak attacks. They travel undetected, and as they go, they make several stops to attack the Saturn Tunnel. Their hammer and shamanism wear the barrier away. And that’s what causes the collapse.”

“Now we know their dirty tricks,” Maxwell said. “If we focus on protecting these junctions, on protecting the points where the old route meets the new one, we should be able to prevent them from bringing down the tunnel again.”

“It’s not that easy,” Commander Lyon said. “They’re always on the other side of the barrier, so it will be hard to get to them. Things can get messy.”

“We need to come up with a strategy.”

“Yes … And to allocate resources with care. Otherwise we will be massacred by monsters as the dwarves gloat in the dark.”

The witnesses were dismissed, and Lyon and Maxwell began to discuss their options. As they debated what was best for the future, however, Vance began to think about the past one more time. At first glance, the commander’s analysis seemed sound, but the more Vance thought about the actions of the dwarves, the more he noticed a stark contradiction. If those five dwarves were really using the old trade route to remain undetected, why did they make all these appearances in front of human wagons? He paused at this difficult question. Why did they choose to hammer the barrier while the humans were passing by?

The dwarves were not bound by a schedule, and they could’ve struck at any other time to maintain their stealth. All the hammering and waving and shaman stuff … It seems like those five dwarves were actually trying to attract attention to themselves. But why? There was no clear reason for such behavior. Are they doing this to lure Lyon and his men into a trap? It was possible that today’s attack was setting the stage for a greater massacre, but even this theory didn’t sound quite right. Lyon is unlikely to take the bait … because he’s short on men and supplies. And even if he did take the bait, even if he concentrated his forces at those junctions, how would that benefit the dwarves? Monsters are less likely to attack a large group.

It seemed that the dwarves had given Lyon too much information for free. If I were in their position, I wouldn’t have revealed this much about my tactics just to set a trap. I would’ve maintained stealth to stretch the human forces thin and increase their casualties to monsters. Vance scratched his head and strived for a better understanding of the saboteurs’ plans. Before he could make sense of anything, however, Kathi put her warm hand on his shoulder and said, “Are you all right? You seem out of it.” She was ready to use a healing spell on him, but he stopped her with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry about me. I just feel a bit tired.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“We should get some rest … It’s getting late.”

“You’re right. It’s already nighttime.”

While Maxwell and Lyon lingered in the office for more discussions, Vance and Kathi left for their rooms. The Commander had ordered his men to prepare four lush bedrooms for the adventuring party. These had been reserved for the traders and merchants who stopped to recuperate at Fort Hamadryad; but since the dead needed neither food nor sleep, others got to enjoy the luxury. A bed with a proper mattress and a harpy-feather pillow, a locked chest to store away valuable possessions, a warm meal to usher in a comfy sleep—everything was suddenly there at hand. Kathi smiled and disappeared into her room, and after he returned the smile, Vance disappeared into his.

He locked the door, ate the meal while it was warm, and rested his weary body. For a while, he continued to think about the dwarves, but then he shifted his attention to his own mission. He had now witnessed the Cromish Dawn in action, and while he didn’t know everything about their skills and abilities, he had gathered enough knowledge to inform his decisions. Kathi is too dangerous. Fairuz is too wary. But Maxwell is within my reach. He looked at the map of the area. The Cromish Dawn will be coordinating with Lyon and his men, so I don’t expect us to leave the fort anytime soon. He traced the map routes with his finger. Tonight I’ll meet with Timathor, and in less than two days, Maxwell should be dead.