Trolls had begun running everywhere, all sizes and shapes, men, women, and children, entire families and households, charging out of buildings and down roads and alleyways with a single-mindedness that suggested they understood the sounds perfectly. After a moment, Khyber was able to discern a pattern to their movements that suggested what was happening. The women and children were all retreating back through the village toward the cliffs, the biggest scooping up the smallest in squirming bundles. They took nothing else with them, not one single implement or piece of clothing. They went without the slightest hesitation or thought for what they were doing, moving swiftly without seeming to look rushed.

They have practiced this often, Khyber thought.

The men, meanwhile, were all moving in the other direction, down toward the front walls of the village, to the gates and ramparts that served as protection and fortification. Some wore chain mail and plate armor. All carried weapons. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening.

Khyber rushed back inside the house for her short sword. When she came out again, Kermadec was standing with Tagwen, huge and forbidding in a towering iron helmet and a chain-mail chest and shoulder guard.

“We’re under attack,” he advised, his words clipped and hard. She had not heard him sound like that before. All of the heartiness and openness was gone; his voice had gone tight and rough with anger and menace. “Airships fly in from the south bearing Druid insignia. We can assume the reason for their visit.”

Khyber buckled on her sword, then felt for the reassuring presence of the Elfstones in her tunic pocket. She had no idea if she would be required to use them, but she intended to be ready. She glanced at Tagwen, who carried no weapons, then back at Kermadec. “How did they find us?”

The Rock Troll shook his big head. “No idea. The Druids have ways of finding anyone, if they put their minds to it. I don’t think they followed you. If they had done so, they would have been here sooner. I think they found you some other way.”

He turned away from them to yell instructions to a squad of Troll warriors passing by, gesturing toward the south wall, separating out one and sending him in another direction. The village was alive with movement; swarming with Trolls. It felt like controlled chaos.

“We’re preparing a welcome for our uninvited guests,” he said, turning back to them, changing once more to the Dwarf language. “We won’t attack them until we hear what they have to say. We’ll let them talk first.”

“Perhaps they’re friends,” Khyber suggested hopefully, cringing at the loud snort Tagwen gave in response.