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snagged on a twisted limb beside him. Kith kicked out, then fell back, helpless.
Trapped between two logs, Kith-Kanan couldn't move. Desperately, feeling a rage
that was nonetheless overpowering for its helplessness, he glared at the blade that was
about to end his life. Giarna stood over him, slowly raising the bloodstained weapon, as if
the steel intended to savor the final, fatal thrust.
The crushing blow of a club knocked Giarna to the side before the killing blow could
fall. Stuck behind the deadfall, Kith couldn't see where the blow had come from, but he
saw the human stumble, watched the great weapon swing through his field of vision.
Snarling with rage, Giarna whirled, ready to slay whatever impertinent foe distracted
him from his quarry. He felt no fear. Was he not impervious to the attack of elf, dwarf, or
human?
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But this was no elf. Instead, he stared upward at a creature that towered over his
head. The last thing Giarna saw before the club crushed his skull and scattered his brains
across the muddy ground was a lone white tooth, jutting proudly from the attacker's jaw.
* * * * *
"He's alive," whispered Kith-Kanan, scarcely daring to breathe. He kneeled beside
Vanesti, noting the slow rise and fall of his nephew's chest. Steam wisped from his
nostrils at terrifyingly long intervals.
"Help little guy?" inquired One-Tooth.
"Yes." Kith smiled through his tears, looking with affection at the huge creature who
must have marched hundreds of miles to find him. He had asked him why, and the giant
had merely shrugged.
One-Tooth reached down and grasped the bundle that was Vanesti. They wrapped
him in a cloak, and now Kith rigged a small lean-to beneath the shelter of some leafy
branches.
"I'll light a fire," said the elf. "Maybe that will draw some of the Wildrunners."
But the soaked wood refused to burn, and so the trio huddled and shivered through
the long night. Then in the morning, they heard the sound of horses pushing along a
forest trail.
Kith wormed his way through the bushes, discovering a column of Wildrunner
scouts. Several veterans, recognizing their leader, quickly approached him, but they had
to overcome their fear of the hill giant when they came upon the scene of the savage
fight.
Gingerly they rigged a sling for the youth and prepared to make the grueling ride to
Sithelbec.
"This time you'll come home with me," Kith told the giant. In the thinning mist, they
started toward the east. Not for several days, until they met more survivors of his
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army some who had had word from the fortress did they learn that the home they
marched to had been reduced to a smoldering pile of rubble.
Epilogue
Autumn, 2177 (PC)
Shapeless blocks of stone jutted into the sky, framed by the burned-out timbers that
outlined walls, gates, and other structures of wood. Sithelbec lay in ruins. The tornadoes
and lightning had razed the fortress more effectively than any human attack could have
done. The surviving Wildrunners collected on the plains around the wreckage, nursing
their wounded and trying to piece together the legacy of the disaster.
Only gradually did they become aware that the humans were gone. The Army of
Ergoth had broken and fled, driven by nature to do what forty years of elven warfare had
been unable to accomplish. The surviving humans streamed toward the lush farmlands of
Daltigoth, the war forgotten.
The Theiwar dwarves those who survived headed back to Thorbardin. And the
elves who had fought for the human cause returned to the woodlands, there to strive for
survival in the ruins left by the storms of spring.
Dunbarth Ironthumb organized the ranks of his Hylar legion, most of whom had
been fortunate enough to find riverbank caves that had sheltered them during the worst of
the storm.
"It's back to good, old-fashioned rock walls and a stone ceiling over my head!"
announced the gruff veteran, clasping Kith-Kanan's hand before he embarked on the long
march.
"You've earned it," said the elf sincerely. For a long time, he watched the receding
column of stocky figures until it disappeared into the mists to the south.
Sithas journeyed to the plains once more, two months after the great storm. He came
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to get his son, to bring him home. Vanesti would live, though barring a miracle, he would
never stand on his own legs.
The twins stood before the ruins of Sithelbec. The city was a blackened patch of
earth, a chaotic jumble of charred timbers and broken, twisted stone.
The Speaker of the Stars met his brother's eyes.
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