Surprise attack

Many thanks to Yaomei for the recommendation on Longkong, and many, many thanks to all the readers for your support. A deep bow of thanks~

When the Bronzebeard Dwarf saw Diago and Masley, he was clearly startled.

"Why did you come back? It isn't safe here!" The Bronzebeard Dwarf glanced back toward the Dark Iron Overseer, who did not seem to have noticed what was happening over here.

"Can I trust you, dwarf?" Diago asked solemnly. He lifted his hood a little so the Bronzebeard Dwarf could see his eyes.

"Lieutenant Tharnok Frosthammer of the Ironforge Dwarven Mountaineers' Nineteenth Company, at your service!" the Bronzebeard Dwarf said with a resolute expression and an unequivocal ring to his voice. "By Khaz'goroth, you can trust me completely, just as you would any stalwart Bronzebeard!"

"As far as I know, a company of mountaineers has thirty men. Where are the others?" Diago asked in some surprise.

"After the battle of Ironforge Peak, all the survivors of the Nineteenth Company are standing before you!" the dwarf said sadly, but he quickly rallied again. "But I can do the work of an entire company. Give me your orders, sir." He had clearly taken the two of them for spies sent by the Alliance on some mission, and was more than willing to help them.

"I'm very sorry to have brought up your misfortune," Diago said apologetically, but offered no further explanation.

"No, there's no need to apologize. If I hadn't been knocked unconscious, I would never have survived alone!" the dwarf said, seemingly in passing. But Diago knew this proud dwarf was offering a tactful explanation. For dwarves, whose courage bordered on recklessness, capture was an utterly unacceptable disgrace. Diago wondered whether this dwarf would have washed away his shame with death if the Forge God's teachings had not forbidden suicide.

"I salute you. You are a true warrior." Diago felt a deep respect for him. The dwarven mountaineers were a force with a glorious history. Whether in the First and Second Wars between humans and orcs or in the battles against the Scourge and the Burning Legion, dwarven riflemen always appeared where the fighting was fiercest. As sharp as steel and as tenacious as solid rock, they were troops any commander would have been happy to lead.

"We need your help, Lieutenant Frosthammer. We want to rescue these poor enslaved people from this sunless place," Diago requested earnestly. His words made the Bronzebeard Dwarf's eyes light up. "You know, the two of us can't possibly do it alone. The task is too difficult."

"I'll do everything I can, sir! I swear in the name of the Frosthammer Family, with the Father of the Dwarves as my witness, that I will give everything I have to help you. If you need my life, take it!" the dwarf said firmly. He was like a blazing torch, impatient to offer up his light and warmth.

"I won't take your life. It's worth far more than you think," Diago said with a smile. Here was a truly admirable Bronzebeard. "On the contrary, I'm giving you this."

Diago pulled the dwarven rifle Jack Rockleg had given him out of the demon backpack. The Bronzebeard Dwarf was astonished and very curious about how such a long rifle had fit inside that tiny backpack. But he also knew this was no time to dwell on it, and deftly took the rifle.

"Know how to use it?" Diago asked. There were some slight differences between this Dark Iron rifle and a dwarven rifle.

"Yes. We've fought the Dark Iron runts more than once and captured a few of these guns." Tharnok Frosthammer expertly cocked the hammer and inspected the action.

"Good, then." Diago took several boxes of ammunition and some copper percussion caps from his bag and handed them over. "Remember, let it cool after every three shots."

The dwarf accepted them with delighted surprise, then carefully hid them beneath a pile of rubble. Astonishingly, throughout all this, he was still swinging his pickaxe with his other hand, striking the rock face with a steady clinking of mining.

Once he had finished, Tharnok Frosthammer pushed the mine cart full of stones toward the ore-processing machinery in the middle of the mine.

"I have to make a trip over there. It's been too long since I last delivered a cartload of ore. If I don't go now, the overseer will get suspicious," he explained quietly before leaving.

Diago and Masley could only wait patiently for him to return. Time seemed especially drawn out as they waited, but Tharnok did not keep them waiting too long. About seven or eight minutes later, the dwarf came into view again. In fact, he could have been faster still if there had not been so much rubble and slag scattered around the mine.

As soon as the dwarf reached the dark shadows, the Night Elf spoke eagerly. "Let me tell you our plan. Our plan is..." He turned to Diago. "Hey, buddy, what's our plan?"

Diago gave him a helpless look, then thought briefly. "We'll sneak up there in a moment and kill their commander-Foreman Maltorius. Then, when we give the signal, you create some chaos down here. We'll fight our way out at the same time and free as many slaves as possible."

It had to be said that this plan was full of holes and would not stand up to scrutiny, but it was the only approach Diago could think of. In fact, the more elaborate a plan was, the less room it allowed for error-without practiced coordination and precise command, any elaborate plan was nothing but theory on paper.

"Anything you'd like to add?" Finally, Diago turned to look at the Night Elf, but the latter clearly had no better ideas either. This oddity among Night Elves preferred acting first to considering how to act.

As for the dwarf, he clearly had not expected the plan to be particularly thorough either. What mattered to him was whether he could cause trouble for the Dark Iron Dwarves. His unyielding nature had left him sick of living like a walking corpse. He was already itching to do something.

"What's the signal?" he asked with concern.

"Well..." Masley looked at Diago again.

"We'll make a lot of noise. You'll know when you hear it. It might be a tremendous roar, or it might be an explosion. In any case, you'll know." That was all Diago could say. He had not even worked out the plan himself yet.

"Should we contact the Gnoll slaves?" the dwarf asked again. Having once served as an officer, every question he asked went straight to the heart of the matter.

"Better not," Diago said after a moment's hesitation. Those Gnolls could not be trusted. In the eyes of those greedy, savage, man-eating beasts, every race other than Gnolls was a potential source of food. Dark Iron Dwarves and Bronzebeard Dwarves held much the same place in their minds, with no distinction between friend and foe.

"Once the chaos starts, they'll follow along. Taking advantage of confusion is bred into their bones. Those hyenas won't pass up such a good opportunity," Diago added.

"You're right. That's exactly the sort they are," the Bronzebeard Dwarf agreed.

"All right, that's settled. We need to get up there," Diago said in farewell. He gave the dwarf one last look. "Pray, buddy. Let's hope the Forger grants us good luck. That's what we need most right now!"

"The Father of the Dwarves is watching over us, sir!" Tharnok Frosthammer replied with a slight bow.

After that, their progress through the darkness met with no further mishaps, and Diago and Masley soon returned to the foot of the rock wall with the stone steps.

"I'll go up first. Follow behind me," Masley whispered. As he finished speaking, the black panther's form began to blur. Within seconds, even that hazy silhouette had vanished.

Although it had already been more than two months since he had crossed over into this world, Diago still found it hard to take such incredible sights in stride. But this was clearly no time for admiration, so he gathered himself and crawled along the side of the steps nearest the rock wall.

To be honest, his stealth skills were far inferior to the Druid's. Although the lava shone up from below, forming a narrow strip of shadow in the corner between the stone steps and the rock wall, anyone looking closely could still make out Diago's movements within it. His Chameleon Cloak could change color, but it could not eliminate the shadow it cast in the light.

Fortunately, however, no one passed along the stairs before he reached the very top and caught sight of the spacious passage.

The passage was not dark. Iron rings were set into the rock walls at short intervals, holding burning torches that brightly illuminated the corridor. Though the Dark Iron Dwarves had darkvision, that did not mean they enjoyed staying in the dark.

There was no one in the passage just then. Diago rose from the ground and tiptoed forward. On either side were rooms hewn into the rock walls. Most of their doors were closed, however, and the off-duty Dark Iron Guards and overseers were probably resting inside.

He stopped beside a door. The wooden door was shut, and Diago did not know whether it was locked from the inside. He was not a Rogue and had little skill at sneaking through doors or picking locks.

But just as he hesitated over whether to try his luck, the opposite door suddenly opened, and a burly Dark Iron Dwarf emerged, pulling up his trousers.

"Who are you? Who gave you permission to come here?" he demanded loudly. This was the Barracks District, and human slaves were rarely permitted here.

But he did not wait for the human to answer. The man's furtive posture had already told him he was an intruder.

"You're dead, human!" the Dark Iron Dwarf shouted as he lunged.

Before Diago could react, the dwarf had wrapped his arms around his waist and was driving him backward.

A second later, Diago felt himself hit something, but the violent collision he had expected never came. Meeting no resistance, the two of them pitched forward and crashed to the floor-the room's door had only been pulled to.

Diago kicked furiously, trying to shake the Dark Iron Dwarf off, but failed. The dwarf clamped tightly around his thighs, continuing to shout indistinctly while ramming his head hard into Diago's lower abdomen. Diago was very glad the dwarf was not wearing armor, or the sharp spike on his helmet alone would have been lethal. He drew his knees up as far as he could and bent at the waist to keep the dwarf from striking his vulnerable parts-a blow down there was no laughing matter.

The dwarf's grip pinned the hand axe at his waist so tightly that he could not draw it. After punching the back of the dwarf's head several times, Diago gave up. His fists did too little damage. He groped along the floor, hoping to find something useful.

He succeeded at once. His sweeping right hand found a cold object, something hard and angular, about the size of a large pomelo. Without hesitation, he brought it crashing down, then struck a second time. He felt some sort of liquid spatter up from below and land on his face. At last, the Dark Iron Dwarf stopped shouting.

To be safe, he struck several more hard blows. Then he stopped and lay motionless, listening for sounds outside. Strangely, however, his fierce struggle with the dwarf had attracted no one's attention. The passage was silent, without a sound.

Diago let out a long sigh of relief and relaxed. Although the silence was deeply uncanny, it was far better than stirring up a hornet's nest.

He had not noticed in the tension of the moment, but now that he relaxed, Diago felt that he had used up the very last of his strength. He lay sprawled on the floor, gulping air and savoring the wonderful feeling of still being alive.

"What a fucking rush!" He could not help swearing, then broke into silent laughter in the dark.

A dozen or so seconds later, he stopped laughing and sat up. He took a small bottle from his pocket and shook it, and soft light immediately spilled from it, illuminating the entire room. This expensive elven creation came from distant Teldrassil and was an essential item for adventurers. Diago had been lucky enough to obtain one from the Ragefang Orcs.

This was indeed a room hewn into the rock wall. Its furnishings were simple, consisting only of a few beds arranged along the walls. To Diago's utter astonishment, people were still lying in them. Judging by their height, they had to be dwarves.

But Diago did not believe these dwarves were asleep. The commotion they had just made should have woken even a sleeping dragon. He drew his hand axe and cautiously approached in a crouch.

By the light of the Bottle of Light, he saw that all these Dark Iron Dwarves lay pale-faced on their beds, with enormous slashes across their throats. Clearly, they were dead-even a Troll could not recover from such a severe, fatal wound. The sweet, metallic smell of blood filled the air. Diago touched the corpses' foreheads and found some lingering warmth. It seemed the Night Elf must have done all this. The dwarf he had encountered might have been one lucky escapee.

Quick work. No wonder that fight didn't alert the dwarves, Diago marveled inwardly. The ruthlessness this Night Elf worshipper of Elune had just displayed made his scalp prickle.

"You're finished, big cat!" Just then, he heard a rough voice bellow, followed immediately by a violent clash of metal. Diago hurried out the door and saw a wooden door burst open at the far end of the passage, some thirty or forty meters ahead. A black shape tumbled out through the stone doorway.