Make a show of considering it, Azriim projected, then agree. Have the mages cast protective wards on the men. It will make the combat last longer anyway.
Dolgan did exactly as he was told, and when the duergar mages had cast a variety of protective wards on many of their guardsmen, the caravan again moved out. They were heading directly into the cavern, where Ahmaergo's ambush awaited.
Here we come, Dolgan projected to Serrin.
* * * * *
When the caravan had crossed half the cavern the ambush was sprung.
Enjoy, Serrin projected to his broodmates.
From four of the side tunnels that opened onto the main cavern, crossbow bolts whizzed. Most skittered harmlessly on the stone floor or thumped off of sturdy duergar armor, but a few found homes in flesh. One sank into Dolgan's shoulder. He grunted and jerked it free, his flesh regenerating the damage almost immediately. Two bolts sank into the pack lizard, causing the creature to rear up and roar in pain. Its sudden movement caused the wagon to lurch forward.
"Ambush!" Dolgan shouted, barely able to contain a grin, partially because of the pain he felt in his shoulder, and partially because Azriim's plan was working well.
He answered the crossbow fire with a trio of magical bolts fired from his wand into the mouth of a side tunnel, where he saw shadowy figures cowering.
True to Kexen's representation that they were veterans, the duergar guardsmen reacted quickly. The mages ducked behind the lurching wagon and began to mouth the words to still more powerful protective wards. The warriors jumped behind the wagon or fell prone, plying their own crossbows.
Shouts and bestial roars erupted from the side tunnels. Huge, lumbering figures formed out of the darkness and loped forward, their great strides eating up the distance.
"Trolls," shouted the duergar in Undercommon, and those nearest the onrushing trolls leaped to their feet.
Calling upon the magical attributes native to their race, several of the duergar grew to twice their normal size, nearly matching the onrushing trolls in stature. Several others vanished from sight, masked by invisibility spells.
Dolgan watched with satisfaction as the combat began to unfold. A force of a score or more human warriors poured from the tunnels, following the charging trolls.
Beams of green energy and swarms of magical darts arced over the onrushing humans and trolls to slam into the duergar force, all fired by Xanathar mages emerging from the mouths of the side tunnels.
"Use your wands!" Dolgan shouted at the duergar mages. "These are Xanathar troops!"
The duergar mages, some of them protected by visible fields of magical force, leveled the wands Azriim had provided to them, and fired lightning bolts into the charging forces. Men screamed, stumbled, and fell. Their comrades leaped over them, still charging.
Duergar warriors met the charge, returning to visibility at the instant their hammers crushed the heads of some of the Xanathar's troops. A fierce melee began halfway between the side tunnels and the caravan. Hammers and axes rose and fell, and swords and shields cut and bashed. Men and dwarves alike screamed in rage and pain.
A globe of brilliant light flared to life, illuminating the cavern, limning the violence. The light-sensitive duergar recoiled and shielded their eyes, temporarily blinded. Trolls and human warriors took the opportunity to press the attack against the gray dwarves, forcing them back with a fierce onslaught. Thinking quickly, one of the duergar mages dispelled the light's sustaining magic, and the dim luminescence of the Underdark again took hold.
Near Dolgan, Azriim plied his own wands, alternately firing lightning and a transmogrifying beam at anything that moved: duergar, human, or troll. Dolgan did likewise. They didn't care which side won the fight, only that it continued for a time and involved powerful magic.
The combat quickly turned into a series of pitched battles scattered all across the cavern floor, with mages and archers supporting from a distance. Spells and counterspells flew. Lightning bolts sizzled from the wands of the duergar mages, leaving a spray of stone splinters, burned flesh, and screams in their wake. Xanathar mages answered, and fireballs blossomed in spherical infernos all over the cavern. Some exploded near the cart, roasting the pack lizard, two duergar, and setting the cart aflame. Giant spiders summoned by the duergar mages prowled the battlefield, pouncing on the wounded and dying.
Wedges of multi-colored magical force ripped through the air, knocking warriors from their feet. Beams of green and red energy laced across the cavern. Globes of darkness formed and were dispelled. Walls of ice and fire appeared from nowhere to burn and freeze. Waves of magic turned stone to mud, set flesh melting and flowing like water.
Throughout, roaring trolls and shambling spiders rampaged across the battlefield, claws and fangs dripping blood and shreds of flesh. Duergar axes and hammers rose and fell as the doughty dwarves fought in isolated groups of two and three. Sword and shield clashed in answer. Archers patrolled the perimeter of the melee, picking targets. Their crossbows twanged again and again. Quarrels sprouted from the flesh of combatants with the suddenness of lightning strikes. Ahmaergo himself stomped through the battlefield, wielding his huge axe and bellowing challenges in the name of the Xanathar.
This ought to serve to draw the Skulls, Dolgan projected to Azriim.
Even as he completed the thought, a series of magical bolts seared into his flesh. He grinned, reveling in the exquisiteness of the pain.
And Cale and his companions as well, Azriim answered, discharging a lightning bolt into a troll. It's nearly time to take our leave. Be ready Serrin. You know the location.
* * * * *
From ahead, Cale heard the shouts of men and the clash of metal.
"A battle?" Magadon said.
"A big one, to judge from the sound," Jak said.
All four of the comrades readied blades, holy symbols, and bows.
"We move quickly and quietly," Cale said. "No one gets involved except on my say-so." He looked pointedly at Riven as he said that last. The assassin made no response and Cale decided to take the silence as agreement. "The slaadi want us caught up in this, and that's reason enough to stay out," Cale continued. "Mark the slaadi as quickly as you can. Mags, I'm going to need you to show me what Azriim sees, so stand ready."
The guide nodded.
"Let's move," Cale said.
Hurrying through the darkness, the four approached the scene of battle. Cale intensified the darkness around them slightly as they drew closer. From the tunnel ahead came the flash of fireballs and lightning. Metal rang on metal. Sounds echoed down the corridor: men shouting, beasts roaring, and stone cracking. It sounded as though the ceiling was falling down.
Stay out of it, Cale reminded them again, and all of them nodded, even Riven. Crouching low and hugging the wall, they hurried forward.
Before them opened a wide, open cavern. All around it, a battle roiled. Trolls, men, and duergar fought in pockets, fierce little battles of horrible violence. Hammers, swords, shouts, curses, and roars rose toward the ceiling. Corpses lay scattered across the cavern like so much driftwood.
The caravan's wagon lay on its side, burning. The pack lizard lay on its side too, still yoked to the wagon and hissing in pain, crossbow bolts protruding from its charred flesh. Magical energies arced across the cavern from the side tunnels, the casters hidden by darkness and distance. Duergar mages answered with shots from their wands or spells of their own. The amount of magic flying in the cavern caused the hairs on Cale's arms to stand. Weaveshear fairly hummed in his grasp, bleeding shadows.
"Follow me," Cale said.
He darted off to the side of the cavern a good distance away from the combat. There, Cale saw a protruding ledge of rock sticking out of the stone about eight paces up on the wall. It would offer a good view of the battle, and some small cover from the missile fire and spells.
"There," he said, pointing.
The others nodded and they raced to the wall and began to climb. Behind them, a troll roared in pain. A ricocheting lightning bolt ripped into the wall near them, sending splinters of stone spraying. They reached the ledge, breathing hard, and crouched low.
"Trickster's toes," Jak said. "This is chaos."
"Find the slaadi," Cale said, scouring the battlefield for any telltale sign of their quarry.
He saw only indistinguishable duergar, mercenaries, and trolls.
"I can't see well enough to find anything," Riven growled.
"There!" Jak said.
Cale followed the halfling's pointing finger and saw a large fat human and a duergar slipping toward the far side of the cavern.
Could be them, Magadon projected. I can confirm.