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own disposal, and the serp used such an advantage with great skill.

“Stay behind the giants,” he ordered his minions. “Let them take on the palace guards. No need for us to take risks. Take your time. We have little to worry about, and much to gain. It seems all the dwarves will soon be dead. I believe that before this day is done, we will have this whole city to ransack.”

Sazar brought up the rear of the sand giant advance. He guided his goblins into the palace only after the passage was cleared of all defenders. He dispassionately watched the death of each palace guard. With the corridors free for pillaging, he ordered the search of every room. The bounty was unimaginable. Diamonds, rubies, jewel encrusted objects of all kind fell into their sacks. Gold was there for the taking. Sazar marveled at the riches which would soon be his to spend on whatever he desired. His greed pressed him further through the palace. He took everything of value that his goblins could carry. He began pulling light gems from the very walls. The corridors grew dark, but such creatures had no aversion to the lack of light.

One last time, he blessed the sand giants as they wrought destruction over the dwarves that would have previously prevented such a windfall. He considered their creators. Sand giants were known to be the work of the algors. He thought of the algors and how they fit into this great conflict. He wondered what might have caused them to send this force to assault Dunop. He reveled in this expansion of hostilities. The humans, the elves, the algors; they were all at war with the dwarves. They would all leave him an opportunity for greater riches. Today, he would have Dunop.

He would also have Burbon. He would not honor his bargain with the human captain. Why should he? He could exit with his treasure now at any point. He did not have to return to Burbon. He could surface in the hills beyond the reach of the captain and his men. He could assemble his forces, entice mercenaries with his new wealth, and attack Burbon after nightfall. He could take Burbon’s supplies as well. Two cities would be his to ravage. Burbon and Dunop. What a great time to be a serp of such power. This is why war was music to his ears.

Yave held the halberd with loose anticipation. She stood firmly on the balcony. A dead end. The abominations would have only one course to reach her. They would have to step forward to take hold of her. She would crush them one at a time. She did not care how long it would take, did not care how many she had to destroy. If necessary, she would leave a mountain of lifeless sandstone before her. In truth, she prayed it would come to that.

“Let them all come.”

In the course of her resolve, she saw shadows ahead of her, heard the rumbling of heavy footfalls. She thought of Tun. She would have her revenge.

Her expression fell blank. The hate dissolved. The anger faded. She became as single-minded as the creatures she intended to destroy. Her emotions accepted this moment as vindication for the memories that haunted her. She would cleanse Dunop of these monstrosities, she would single-handedly defeat the army of the algors.

Lights faded, more gems stolen. She didn’t care. She would fight in pure darkness, if need be. After all, she was a dwarf. She could see in the dark as well as a shag.

She stood ready for her battle of personal redemption when one last distraction caught her attention. Echoing reverberations thundered through the streets behind her, a signal of more upheaval. She considered the prospect of more sand giants.

“Fine. Let more come,” she stated coldly, but the fury of this rumble gave her pause.

Something was different. Something was wrong. The rumblings consisted of foreign sounds, noises like rock battling stone. She turned her head. The source of the upheaval was plainly evident, undeniable in power.

Cliff behemoths!

They rambled through the streets with majesty. They were larger than life, the thing of dreams and legends. No individual could deny their grandeur, not even Yave, no matter how twisted or vengeful. Such was the purity of the behemoths’ physical appearance, such was the simplicity of their inner strength.

In this moment, however, the complexity of what they could become shone evident. They revealed a domination which was theirs for the taking. Their very movement boasted of power. The intrinsic strength of the surrounding dwarf city was impotent in comparison to these titans. In no small words, they could become the very hand of Godson.

Their purpose was clear. They were here not to destroy Dunop, but to save it. They represented no threat to the dwarves, no threat to real life. Their religion prevented such acts. The sand giants, however, defied the cliff behemoths, religion, defied everything the cliff behemoths held dear. These atrocities were an abomination to Godson. They were not bestowed a spirit or a consciousness. They were not gifted life, they were granted animation. They were rock, and only Godson may bestow life upon the lifelessness.

With this temperament toward the tool of the algors, the cliff behemoths set upon the sand giants. They attacked. The peaceful nature of their beliefs dissolved in their intolerance as they crushed the stone creatures with swipes of their mighty arms. They left a trail of sandy dust in their wake, and they moved forward with the conviction to eradicate every imposter.

For the first time in their miniscule period of existence, the sand giants displayed uncertainty. They were here to end the threat of the dwarves. They were not instructed to attack other creatures, unless they were threats to the algors. The cliff behemoths displayed a willingness to protect the dwarves and the sand giants found difficulty in comprehending this action. Their limited instincts left them in a quandary of inactivity.

The cliff behemoths ignored the confused passivity of the sand giants. Massive in size themselves, the behemoths outmatched the algor creations in power. And just as the sand giants crushed the dwarves with detachment, the behemoths crushed the sand giants with disdain.

Yave turned her back upon the sight. She found no relief, no joy in the sight of her city’s saviors. She waited for the sand giants to come for her. They did not. Once more her hate began to boil. She wanted this moment, wanted to face the sand giants on these terms. She would never have the opportunity.

The sand giants within the palace sensed the growing threat of the cliff behemoths. They understood that the newly arrived titans planned to prevent the successful completion of their mission. The queen within the structure would have to wait as the behemoths became the primary danger. The algor protectors went back to the streets to deal with this new menace. They did not return.

Also within the palace, Sazar noticed their departure with growing displeasure. Their exit left him puzzled. Many palace guards remained at posts throughout this rock castle. Uneasily, he faced a reexamining of his situation. He stalked the palace corridors quickly until he found a window to view this unexpected turn. The truth did not please him. To him, the cliff behemoths were an unwelcome sight.

“Why do they intervene?” he mouthed. “This makes no sense. They are not warring creatures. They live by peaceful doctrine.”

Enlightenment hit him with the severity of a falling rock. “Could it be?” he whispered.

He could not deny the facts before him. The cliff behemoths were not acting as invaders. He knew such behavior would be beyond them. They were here to save the dwarf city. The revelation brought an even greater, distasteful realization. Cliff behemoths would not take up one side or another in this war. They would not act as aggressors, but only as peacemakers. They would not escalate hostilities. Any such considerations would be as foreign to them as charity was to him.

His cunning mind understood the complete nature of such actions. Cliff behemoths would not intervene to simply save one city. Such an act was simply out of character. They must have viewed the entire struggle as a threat to their religion. Sazar’s war was coming to a quick, judicious end, preempted by beings beyond his manipulative control.

The limitless opportunities once within his grasp, now evaporated like water in a steaming volcano. There would be no more battles like the one in Burbon, no more assaults by sand giants that allowed him to enter a dwarf palace. A moment before, it seemed the riches of his dreams were in his hands. Now, he wondered about his very safety.

Though the dwarf warriors were decimated, there remained enough dwarf sentries and civilians to capture his goblins. He would lose the treasure already in his hands. His shag would fight to prevent his immediate capture, but even this hairy beast might fall to the strength of angry dwarves looking for vengeance. If he were taken, he would be put to death.

He examined the treasure already procured for his benefit. It would suffice. He recalled his goblins.

“To the shadows with you. Maintain hold over what we have taken. We must move with care. The tide of battle has turned against us. We will find exits in the tunnels, but we will not return to Burbon. The shag will clear a path for us so that we may return directly to the hills.”

One goblin, unaware or incapable of discerning the significance of the cliff behemoths and caught in the thrill of their stolen bounty, ventured to question Sazar about his future endeavors. “Do we now take Burbon?”

Sazar shook his head. “The opportunity is lost. These cliff behemoths have declared an end to the war. We do not know to what extent they might intervene. To attack the humans now would risk our substantial gains. No, we will wait for another day.”

Chapter 21

Heavy footfalls, a pause, and finally, a resounding crash, as if lightning had struck within a hair’s breadth away. The massive stone door crumbled to an ash like substance. Its destruction created a curtain of gray and black dust that swirled about the broken edges of the cell entrance.

Ryson did not expect that much power from a sand giant. He wondered as to how many waited behind the cloud of near microscopic debris. Perhaps as many as four had struck together, but his sharp eyes seized only the silhouette of a single giant crouched over nearly in half in the doorway.

Its colossal shape quickly extinguished any thought that this might have been a dwarf action. Ryson could do nothing else but believe they now faced the threat of the sand giants coming for Jon. His keen hearing had picked up the sounds of battle, even deep within this stone prison. Knowing of the algors intentions, he simply assumed the sand giants were now fulfilling their purpose.

In a heartbeat, he pranced past the giant with a dazzling display of speed and agility. Once beyond the first sentinel that obliterated the door, he scanned the corridors to assess the threat. The halls were empty. No other sand giants appeared. No dwarf sentries, dead or alive. Mystifying. He expected greater signs of a struggle, more sand giants, the battered bodies of dwarf guards.

His bafflement expanded as his own quick instincts forced him to take a second look at the giant he had passed. The double-take proved colossal in revelation. This was no sand giant. Its hide was harder than sandstone, darker in color than the sandy tan, and it wore a tunic of brown and green.

“Dzeb?” Ryson mouthed in weary disbelief.

“It is good to see you well, Ryson Acumen,” the

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