The War Of The Lance by Michael Williams, Richard A. Knaak, Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman

their good points.” He smiled only briefly. "They're like a bad
     relative. You got a distant cousin you hate. He cheats, lies,
    steals, thinks he owns the world. He's still family, 'long as he obeys the rules o' the
     house. Follow me so far?"
    I nodded and thought about the hobgoblins. “They collect trophies?”
    “Sure do. Ears they like - easier to cut off than fingers. Save 'em up, show 'em to their
     friends. Use 'em to prove their kills. Eat 'em later, maybe. Don't know, don't want to
     know.” He stroked his shaggy beard.
    “Theiwar use crossbows?” It was a long-overdue question.
    “Sure,” he said. He got to his feet, dusting off his trousers and cloak. “Got all sorts o'
     funny weapons, but they do like them crossbows.”
    It made sense that a Theiwar might have been my murderer. I knew a dwarf could see enough
     well in darkness. The Theiwar could have gone right up the cliff after killing me to do in
     the hobgoblin lookouts, then the rest of them. But why would a Theiwar kill me? Did he or
     the hobgoblins kill my cousins? Why would he kill his own allies? It made no sense.
    Orun stomped his feet, then looked at the forest and ruins. He glanced back at his axe,
     still on the log, then shrugged and spat.
    “Never thought I'd see a rev'nant, or talk to one,” he stated, adjusting his cloak. “One
     of my old kin, great uncle, he was one. Lemishite killed 'im out in a field, took his
     steel. Broan came back, blood still on 'im, and called for aid. Two of my kin went with
     'im. Found the Lemishite halfway back to his home. My kin came back, but not Broan. Kin
     never spoke of it much. Hundred, hundred ten years ago.”
    He rubbed at his throat. “Seen others who came back, but not like you. Walkin' dead,
     mindless. Black Robe wizards like 'em. Had one pass through Kaolyn once. Didn't let 'im
     stop. Had a bunch of dead helpers.” Orun's face twisted with disgust at the memory.
     “Wizards,” he sighed.
    “Did you know this Garith?” I asked.
    A muscle twitched in Orun's left cheek, pulling on the side of his mouth. He looked toward
     the road, remembering. "Was his contact with Kaolyn, kind o' to keep an eye on 'im.
     Supposed to have known what he was doing when he was killin' our people off, but he got by
    me.“ The dwarf grunted, pulling the cloak tightly around his shoulders. ”Almost did for
     me, too, but I was lucky. Damn lucky."
    I eyed him for a few moments. “You want him.”
    Orun was silent for a moment more, then slowly turned around and grinned at me in a dark
     way, almost shyly. “Sure do,” he said, eyes like arrow slits in a fortress. “Want 'im bad.
     He killed some good friends o' mine. My fault, really. I know how y'feel. You want to get
     your claws 'round his scrawny neck and squeeze his life out, make 'im feel what you felt.
     That right?”
    I said nothing.
    He grinned more broadly. “Well, you miss 'im, and I'll finish it for you. Lookin' forward
     to it. Our boy's been a busy little runt, killin' everything he can find. Got it in for
     everyone, like the rest o' 'is folk. Thinks he's a bad boy. But he won't like seein' you
     and me together.”
    “Why aren't you afraid of me?” I asked.
    The dwarf looked me over in silence, then snorted as if he'd heard a bad joke. “You want
     me to be afraid there, dead boy? I'll tell you somethin'. In the war, my commander got
     'imself killed by a draconian, sivak type. They're the big silver ones what change their
     shapes when they kill someone, so they look like what they just killed. You heard 'bout
     'em?”
    I remembered sivaks very well from the war. “Yes.”
    “I saw the killin', but I wasn't in a way to do anythin' 'bout it right then and there.
     Had to travel with 'im for two days, pretendin' he was my friend, all the time knowin' he
     was gonna turn on me and my buddies and kill us off or take us to an ambush. Got some help
     in time, though, and we cut that reptile boy