‘‘What are you saying, Liallan?’’
‘‘I’m saying you were picked for a role. You were the ideal clan chieftain for this part.’’
‘‘I was allowed to escape?’’
Liallan said, ‘‘Who do you think engineered your escape from Sar-Sargoth all those months ago?’’ After a moment, she said, ‘‘I did. Just as I misdirected Delekhan’s soldiers into the snow plains while Obkhar’s family fled to the mountains near the Lake of the Sky. If they avoided the eledhel and the dwarves at Stone Mountain, they may be safely back in the Green Heart.’’
‘‘Why?’’ asked Gorath.
‘‘To keep Delekhan busy,’’ said Liallan. ‘‘He has his timetable, I have mine. It suits my purpose to delay his assault of the Kingdom a while longer. His stupidity in treating Narab will buy me another month. Once Narab’s head is upon a pole at Sar-Sargoth’s gate, it will take at least a month for Delekhan to bully the fractious clan leaders back into obeying him without question. Delekhan wants an early-spring campaign; I prefer one a little later in the year.’’
Owyn asked, ‘‘Did you help us escape?’’
‘‘This time? No,’’ said Liallan. ‘‘I reap no gain in doing so.
Whatever you may have done, you achieved on your own.’’
Owyn said, ‘‘No, someone else opened that cage.’’
‘‘Then I suspect it may have been Narab. That fit of pique 199
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is what I would expect of him. If Delekhan threatens him for capturing you, then why not release you?’’
‘‘Will you help us again?’’ asked Gorath.
‘‘I will consider such an effort an investment against the future of the Northlands, Gorath. Killing you or turning you over to my husband gains me nothing. Letting you go costs me little, and in the future your help may be useful. I have agents throughout the Northlands, and I will send word to certain of them to aid your travels south.’’
Gorath said, ‘‘I will do what I can to assist you if fate allows.’’
She smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. ‘‘Rest for a while, then I will have horses ready for you. Take to the west and avoid the roads. The best route is by what the humans call the Inclindel gap, south of Sar-Isbandia. But avoid the village of Harlik, for Moraeulf camps there, and he knows you well.’’
She stretched, and Owyn was again struck by her beauty and catlike grace. ‘‘Rest now, for in the morning things will become quite lively outside the city. Narab’s clan answers his call, and Delekhan will no doubt call down the wrath of The Six upon him. It should be over shortly.’’
‘‘Who are these six magicians?’’ asked Gorath.
Liallan’s voice dropped to a near whisper, as if someone might be listening. ‘‘They advise, and more. They scheme into the night with Delekhan. Only a few see them, and no one knows who they truly are. It was they who advised Delekhan to obliterate your tribe.’’
‘‘But why?’’ demanded Gorath. ‘‘We were never among Delekhan’s rivals, even if we served only with reluctance.’’
‘‘Because you were small, and your tribe had long been one to stay aloof. When your father died, you took your people and fled to the cold northern mountains. Wise, but it made you suspect. You avenged yourself, which was expected, but among those you killed were those related to Delekhan by blood. He could not ignore your acts, for he was under scru-tiny, and he was driven by his need for powerful allies. In short, you made a bitter enemy, and your tribe’s destruction was an effective object lesson. As will be Narab’s death.’’
‘‘Did The Six order that?’’
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Liallan shrugged. ‘‘I do not know, but I would not be surprised if my husband didn’t hear warnings over the last few months casting doubts on Narab and Nago. Your slaying of Nago did Delekhan a favor. He was reluctant to move against one brother while the other was alive. Together they were the two most powerful spellcasters of our nation, and their clan is not one that can be ignored.’’
Gorath ate in silence a moment, then said, ‘‘Where did The Six come from?’’
‘‘No one knows. No one even knows what race claims them.
They are Spellweavers far beyond the powers of our race.
Some suspect they may be Pantathians come among us again.’’
‘‘Murmandamus,’’ Gorath said softly.
‘‘Yes,’’ said Liallan. ‘‘The same as those who served the Marked One.’’
‘‘Do they abide in Sar-Sargoth?’’
‘‘When they counsel Delekhan. Presently they are with his son Moraeulf in Harlik. They seek out more fugitives from your clan, those who are trying to win freedom and get south to the Green Heart.’’
Gorath said, ‘‘Then I have even more pressing reasons to carry warning to Prince Arutha. If I cannot get my hands around Delekhan’s throat, I will aid one who will bring him low.’’
‘‘Tread carefully,’’ said Liallan.
To Owyn it sounded as if she were being sincere in her concern.
‘‘Perhaps all our schemes will bear fruit. If I raise my Snow Leopard banner above the walls of Sar-Sargoth, Gorath, you and the surviving Ardanien will be welcome to return to the heart of their people.’’
Gorath’s expression was guarded. ‘‘You are as much to be feared as Delekhan, Liallan.’’
She smiled and again looked dangerous. ‘‘Only by those who seek to harm me or my tribe, Gorath. Return to your Northern mountains in peace if that day comes.’’ She stood, and said, ‘‘Rest. I will have horses outside before sunrise.’’ As she reached the doorway, she looked over her shoulder, and added, ‘‘Hide well, and move quickly, Gorath. If you return 201
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to my sight before Delekhan is overthrown, I must needs present him with your head as a peace offering.’’
‘‘I understand, Liallan. You’ve been generous to one hum-bled by fate.’’
She left, and Gorath said, ‘‘She’s right, Owyn. We need to rest.’’
Owyn lay down next to the fire, content with a full stomach, and glad to be rid of the drugs that had dulled his senses for so many days. Still, it seemed as if only a moment passed between closing his eyes and Gorath’s shaking him, saying,
‘‘It’s time.’’
He rose and forced stiff aching muscles to obey as he wrapped a heavy fur-lined moredhel cloak around him and mounted a waiting horse. If the guards were curious as to who Liallan’s guests were, they said nothing, merely standing aside as the two strangers rode off.
The building was run-down, but there were a dozen horses tied in front of it. ‘‘We can get something to eat inside,’’ said Gorath.
The purse Owyn had liberated contained a few coins, Kingdom, Quegan, and even a Keshian silver piece, as well as some gems. They dismounted, and Owyn said, ‘‘What is this place?’’
‘‘You’d call it an inn. One of the conventions brought to the North by your people. My kind have never created such, but we have come to appreciate their benefits.’’
They went inside to find a dark, small room, with as many as twenty men and moredhel standing around. A bar that was little more than long planks set upon barrels ran along the far wall of the building. Gorath shoved aside two men, and said,
‘‘Ale and something to eat.’’
The human barkeeper produced a platter of cheese and bread, surprisingly good given the shoddy surroundings. They ate, and Owyn trusted Gorath’s instincts on his ability to blend in. ‘‘Where are we?’’ he whispered.
‘‘Near the City of Sar-Isbandia. What you humans call Armengar. There are villages and towns throughout this region.
Much trading with the south.’’
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Owyn said, ‘‘Most of us who live in the Kingdom think of the Teeth of the World as a wall separating our peoples.’’
‘‘It’s a barrier t
o warfare, perhaps, but enterprising men find a way to trade. There are a dozen ways through the mountains south of here.’’
From behind a voice spoke lowly. ‘‘And all are heavily guarded, Gorath.’’
Gorath spun, his hand falling upon his sword hilt. ‘‘Draw steel and die,’’ said the other moredhel. ‘‘Eat your cheese and live.’’
Gorath didn’t smile, but his face relaxed. ‘‘I see you’ve managed to keep your head attached to your shoulders, Irmelyn.’’
‘‘No thanks to Delekhan,’’ said the other moredhel. He indicated with a nod they should move to a small table in the corner. Owyn picked up the cheese, took his ale, and followed.
Sitting in the crowded room, the moredhel named Irmelyn said, ‘‘Delekhan will have the rivers running piss and chickens laying dust by the time this all ends. Drink while you can, my old foe.’’
‘‘Why are you here, Irmelyn? I was told Obkhar’s tribe had fled.’’
‘‘Most have, but a few of us remain behind, in the hope we can free our chieftain.’’
Lowering his voice to a whisper, Gorath asked, ‘‘He’s alive?’’
Irmelyn nodded. ‘‘He’s alive, and close by. He’s being held prisoner in the naphtha mines under the destroyed city.’’
‘‘Prisoner?’’ Gorath looked confused. ‘‘Why isn’t he dead?’’
‘‘Because Delekhan doesn’t know he’s working as a slave in the mines. They think he is a man called Okabun, from Liallan’s Snow Leopards.’’
Gorath said, ‘‘So you linger nearby to free him?’’
‘‘We do. We need help. Would you care to provide that help?’’
‘‘In exchange for what?’’
‘‘For a way south. As I said, the passes are all heavily guarded, but I know a way to get through.’’
‘‘What do we need to do?’’ asked Gorath.
‘‘Come outside.’’
They rose and left the relative warmth of the inn. Once they 203
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were outside, Irmelyn said, ‘‘We have discovered a way out of the mines. Unguarded.’’
‘‘Then why doesn’t Obkhar just walk out?’’ asked Owyn.
With a snarl, Irmelyn said, ‘‘When I want to hear from you, pup, I’ll kick you.’’
Gorath said, ‘‘Then tell me, why doesn’t Obkhar just walk out?’’
‘‘Because of the fumes that hang in the tunnels. When the humans fled after firing the city, several tunnels from the old keep collapsed. One didn’t, but it is small, and the fumes that hang there would explode if a spark was struck, and the fumes would overcome anyone seeking to pass.’’
‘‘But you have a plan?’’ said Gorath.
‘‘We have found masks, used by humans in the old days, constructed of bone and membrane from a dragon’s lungs.
They let air pass through but keep the deadly fumes out.’’
‘‘So you need someone to get inside and get a mask to Obkhar,’’ said Owyn.
The tall moredhel glared at the young human, but said,
‘‘Yes, we need someone to get a mask to Obkhar and escape with him.’’
‘‘Why us?’’ asked Gorath. ‘‘Why not a member of your clan?’’
‘‘There are only a few of us left in the Northlands, and Moraeulf’s soldiers know all our faces. You, on the other hand, while known by name, are not well-known by sight. The Ardanien lived apart for many years; you could claim to be a member of any number of clans and who would say no?’’
‘‘What do you propose?’’ asked Gorath.
‘‘Go to the slaver, a human named Venutrier. He claims to be from the Kingdom City of Lan, but I know him to be a Quegan. Tell him you wish to sell the boy.’’
‘‘What?’’ Owyn was about to object.
Gorath held up his hand. ‘‘Say on.’’
‘‘Venutrier is as venal a human as you could wish to meet.
He will certainly try to capture you. Let him.
‘‘Two of his guards will be alerted and allow you to enter the mines with your bundles and will store them for you.
When you are taken below, they will come to you with your 204
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bundles and leave you unwatched. Obkhar will be somewhere on the level to the west of the great gallery. More than that we can’t tell you. If you agree and get him out, we will see you and your companion safely south.’’
Gorath said, ‘‘Before I say yes or no, tell me: have you word of Cullich?’’
Irmelyn said, ‘‘Yes, she is not far from here. A hut between here and the village of Karne. We can see her on our way south if that is your desire.’’
Gorath was quiet for a moment, then said, ‘‘It is. We will do it.’’
Irmelyn said, ‘‘Go then to the mine entrance. You will be challenged. Tell the guard you wish to speak to Venutrier. I will take your horses and weapons and meet you at a place Obkhar knows.’’
‘‘Care to tell us?’’ asked Owyn.
‘‘If you do not free Obkhar, you have not kept your part of the bargain, human. You can fare as well as you may without our aid.’’
Gorath said, ‘‘Come along, Owyn. We have a distance to walk.’’ Without looking back, he led the human away and set out for the mines.
Venutrier was a huge man, gross fat barely contained by a massive belt he wore around his waist. He looked over at Owyn, and said, ‘‘Where’d you catch him?’’
‘‘I didn’t,’’ said Gorath. ‘‘He’s a runaway kitchen whelp from the Kingdom who thought to come fight for gold. Well, he couldn’t play knucklebones, and it turns out he can’t pay his gambling debts.’’
‘‘He’s a bit scrawny,’’ said the slaver. ‘‘Come with me.’’
Without waiting to see if Gorath followed, he walked toward the mine entrance.
They entered the mine, and Venutrier asked, ‘‘Who are you, warrior?’’
‘‘I am Gorath of . . . the Balakhar, from the Green Heart.’’
‘‘Not from around here?’’ said Venutrier. ‘‘Good. We could use a strapping worker such as yourself.’’
Guards lowered spears and suddenly Gorath and Owyn 205
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were surrounded. ‘‘Had you been from here, my friend, you would have known that no one comes without allies to my mines. Lord Delekhan has ordered an impossible amount of naphtha for the invasion of the Kingdom, and I need workers.
Get them below.’’
Gorath and Owyn were hustled below by the guards and taken to the second level of the mines, as Irmelyn had predicted. Then they were taken to a large empty cavern.
One of the guards lingered as the others walked away, and he whispered, ‘‘Stay here.’’
They remained alone for a period, the darkness cut through by only one faint light, a lantern cleverly fashioned with a thin transparent membrane covering the flame. ‘‘I don’t expect we’re going to see a lot of torches around here,’’ observed Owyn.
‘‘If there are fumes of naphtha in the tunnels, I expect you’re correct.’’
Shortly a guard returned, carrying the bundles taken from Owyn and Gorath. He also carried a third bundle. ‘‘Here, take that tunnel there. You will be facing west. Find your friend and then go down to where you hear water. You must swim out.’’
The guard vanished, and Gorath picked up the new bundle.
It contained three odd-looking devices, obviously designed to wear over the nose and mouth. They gathered up their remaining possessions and departed.
The tunnel to the west went downhill, and abruptly Gorath stopped.
‘‘What is it?’’ asked Owyn.
‘‘We must be under the old city of Sar-Isbandia.’’
Owyn didn’t know what to say.
Gorath continued walking. Soon they came to a large gallery, where the sound of work could be heard. A single guard moved idly around the huge gallery, overseeing the wretches laboring t
o lift buckets of the thick oil that ran through the earth, to bubble to the surface.
Owyn’s eyes teared, and he said, ‘‘I can see why they need the mask if it gets much worse than this.’’
Gorath said, ‘‘Look for one of my people who wears his hair 206
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in a high fall, and who has a scar running down his face from forehead to chin.’’
When the guard was at the farthest point in his rounds, they slipped through the main gallery to another tunnel. Those who labored hardly spared them a glance, intent as they were upon their own miseries.
Not seeing Obkhar, Gorath said, ‘‘Let us continue to the west.’’
They moved down a long corridor that turned into another gallery, and in that one labored a small band of moredhel.
Owyn looked around, and said, ‘‘I don’t see any guards.’’
Wiping away tears, Gorath said, ‘‘I think they linger near the fresher air at the ends of the tunnels. Where would these prisoners flee to?’’
‘‘Nowhere, Gorath,’’ came a voice from behind them.
They spun to be confronted by a large, gaunt moredhel who possessed the scar Gorath had described. ‘‘Obkhar!’’
Looking Gorath up and down, Obkhar said, ‘‘At first I thought the fumes had finally taken my senses, but I see they have not. How is it you are here? I heard that your head had been spitted on a stake outside Sar-Sargoth.’’
Gorath folded his arms across his chest. ‘‘Not all who remain in the Northlands willingly bend to Delekhan’s will. And not all who rebel die. I had help in escaping, as you do now.
Others died so that I might win free.’’
‘‘You have a grave debt to repay.’’
‘‘All the more reason to see Delekhan’s reign ended, Obkhar!
He shall pay blood debt to me and mine.’’
‘‘Most of my kin are now in the Green Heart, but should you raise your banner against Delekhan, Gorath, we will come to your cause.’’
Gorath smiled. ‘‘So you at last forgive me for giving you that scar?’’
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