The Brega path tsc-2

by Dennis McKiernan

  A time passed, and the Seven could hear the Spaunen snarling and cursing, but the Sluk speech was being used, and so the comrades did not understand what was being said. For a moment it became still, and then a spate of black-shafted Rucken arrows hissed through the cleft to strike the far chamber wall and splinter on the stone. Then there came a great shout from the maggot-folk and a rush of booted feet: they were mounting a charge. One leapt in, only to be dropped by Ursor's mace. Three more hurtled through and were slain by Anval, Bonn, and Delk. More charged forward but stumbled over the dead bodies of the slain Rucks and were themselves dispatched. Once more the Rucks withdrew.

  Just as it had been at the rope bridge over the Great Deep, the Spawn could only come at the Seven single file, and thus the Rupt could not bring their great numbers to bear to their advantage. No Ruck had yet reached the third rank of the defenders. Four warders alone could hold off an entire Rucken army, especially since the comrades flung the dead Spaunen one atop another to clog the entrance, forming a grisly but effective barricade.

  An hour went by, and again the maggot-folk charged. Once more the defenders slew all that entered. This time the second rank killed but one Ruck; all the others were slain by Ursor and Anval. The bulwark of dead Spawn grew higher.

  Bonn and Delk then stepped to the first rank, relieving. Ursor and Anval, who stepped back. Lord Kian and Shannon1 took over the second file. Perry, who had yet to engage the foe, felt useless, but he realized that in this battle the others were larger and more effective than a Warrow would be.

  But it was not only a sense of uselessness that disturbed the buccan: most of all, Perry felt a deep sense of guilt over the turn of events. "Lord Kian," the Warrow quietly declared, "I have failed you and my other comrades here; I have failed Durek and all those with him; and I have failed, myself." At the Man's questioning look, the buccan continued: "Back at the Grate Room I did not keep Bane in the open, and we were discovered. Our mission is in dire jeopardy, and I am to blame."

  "Perry, Friend Perry," sighed Lord Kian, "had Bane been left unsheathed, mayhap we would not have been discovered just then. Yet I think we would have fled west on the Brega Path when Bane's flame cried 'Rupt!' And we would have run into the band of Yrm coming up that way. Of course we could have run east on the Path and into the arms of the other Spawn back that way. Perry, Bane is a wondrous Elven-blade, yet it does not tell us where the danger lies, only that it is near or far or not at all. Let me say this: as we came to the Grate Room you remarked that there were no side passages off the Brega Path for the next mile; and the last mile we

  travelled to that place also had no corridors or crevices off to the side. True?"

  "Yes, there are only those passages right at the Grate Room," replied Perry, "four eastward, one westward."

  "And of those ways," continued Kian, "two had Yrm forces in them: one behind us on the path, and one ahead. Heed me: we would have seen Bane's glimmer and run along the Path into one Ruptish band or the other, with no place to hide; and we would have been trapped between the two gangs, overwhelmed by their very numbers in those broad halls." Lord Kian fell silent, and though Perry had to agree with the Man's reasoning, still he felt somehow guilty that the Seven had been discovered.

  "Lord Kian is right," said Shannon to Perry, softly. "He has the wisdom to see that what has befallen would have done so one way or another no matter the circumstance, for we were already trapped yet did not know it. Some who call.themselves leaders would have leapt at the chance to fix the blame on you, Perry, deserved or not; to them, finding fault is more important than finding solutions to their dilemmas. With them it is more important to punish in the name of justice than it is to right a wrong.

  "But 1 stray far afield. Lord Kian knows that our task is to somehow rescue our quest from the jaws of adversity, and it is not our concern to blame one small Waerling for all the Spaunen that teem in these caverns-" Suddenly, with a screeching how! a large, spear-bearing Hlok leapt onto the dead-Ruck barricade, only to be gutted by Delk's axe. Three more Ruck were slain by Delk and Bonn. Again the.attack was shorn off short, the Rucks fleeing back up the notch.

  Two more hours passed without attack, except now and again a black shaft or two would hiss into the chamber to fail with a clatter at the far wall. The guard on the cleft had been rotated, and in turn each of the Seven had walked the chamber-staying out of line of the black arrows, looking for a hidden door or passage-but none had been found, for this was indeed the Lost Prison, the Gargon's Lair: that terrible creature had been sealed in this chamber from the overthrow of Gyphon, at the end of the Ban War, to the year 780 of the Fourth Era; nearly three thousand years in all. The Dwarves had inadvertently set it free while mining silveron, led this way by Modru's evil art; it could be seen that the Dwarves had delved up to the wall of the chamber, but from all appearances, the Gargon had blasted through the weakened wall-whether by spell or by sheer strength, the Squad could not say.

  The old tales told that the Gargon had slain many Dwarves, including a Dwarf King and his son: Third Glain fellin 4E780, and with him Om was killed. After they and others were slaughtered in a bloody day of great butchery, the Dwarves fled Kraggen-cor. Yet Dwarves were not the only ones driven from this region: great numbers of Elves of the bordering Realm of Darda Galion fled from the Dread, as well as steaders of Riamon. The Gargon ruled Black Drimroen-deeve for more than one thousand years, til slain by Tuck, Galen, Gildor, and Brega in a fiery doom. It took all of their efforts to vanquish this terrible foe, and even then it was but by chance circumstance that they slew the Dread, for it was a mighty creature.

  Yet, as mighty as it had been, still it had not been able to break out of this prison until a wall had been weakened by delvers. The Seven were dismayed by this knowledge, for it meant that this chamber was a dungeon of extraordinary strength: it had defied the power of a mighty Gargon for nearly three millennia. Hence, how could the comrades ejven hope to break free in a matter of mere hours in order to aid Durek-especially in the teeth of a force of Spawn?

  "What is the hour, Shannon?" asked Perry, for he was

  bone weary.

  "It is midmom of the twenty-fourth of November," answered the Elf.

  Lord Kian's face took on a grim look at Silverleaf s words, for the time was perilously short, and they were yet trapped. Lord Kian knew, however, that for whatever plan-if any- they devised for winning free, rested warriors were needed. They also needed water, for theirs was nearly gone. He did not know what mischief the Yrm were devising, but it was certain mat they would attack sooner or later. "The Rukha seem to have fallen quiet," said Kian, "planning some deviltry. They can afford to wait for reinforcements, for we are trapped. We must use this time to recover our own spent strength: While we are under siege, we will take turns resting. Two will hold the way while the others rest, perhaps even sleep. Keep nearby to aid in the event of attack. Stay out of arrow flight from the cleft. Think on ways that we may escape-though Adon knows how that may be."

  Perry lay down off to one side. He was exhausted: the flight had taken much of his strength, for the way had been hard and he was of small stature. He rested his head against his pack, and his thoughts were awhirl. He felt something tugging and nagging at the back of his mind, but he could not bring it to the fore. He believed that something was being overlooked, yet he knew not what. He gazed at the smooth carven walls, ceiling, and floor of the chamber. The silveron vein came through the guarded broken wall and ran on across the floor to vanish into the shadows. The argent line had many offshoots, running short distances, tapering off into thinner and thinner veins, to finally disappear. One such seam zigged across the ceiling, to end in a whorl. Another seam ran to the large stone block in the center of the chamber and up the side, to come to an end among the writhing runes set thereupon by the Gargon. Yet another silver line shot up a side wall, to crash back to the floor. Perry lay there letting his gaze follow the precious seams, and even though the Rucken enemy was but a few
paces away, he gradually drifted into slumber as his eyes roamed along glittering pathways streaking across the prison.

  Perry slept for five hours without moving, exhausted, exempted from guard duty by the others; but then he began to dream: He was back on the Argon, riding the raft. But the river wasn't water; instead it was flowing silveron. The argent stream rushed into a roaring gap, and the raft was borne into a tunnel. Perry looked about and saw that he was riding with the other companions, yet there was a hooded Dwarf sitting on the far end of the float whom Perry did not recognize, for he could not see the Dwarfs face.

  The starsilver river rushed through dark caverns, carrying the raft along, and Rucks sprang up to give chase. Onward the raft whirled, to come to many Dwarves delving stone and scooping up treasured water into sacks, which they bore away. The float sped toward a stone wall, but just before the craft crashed into it, the wall burst outward and a dark Gargon jumped forth with four warriors in pursuit. The raft whirled into the chamber and sped on the silveron vein out the other side, but all the companions were tumbled off by the far stone wall, even though the float somehow went on through. The wall became transparent, and Perry could see that the raft was caught in an eddy of silveron, and the mysterious Dwarf was still aboard in spite of the invisible wall. Perry looked at the Dwarf and called, "Help us. Help us get through. You got out; how can we get out too?"

  The Dwarf turned and threw back his hood. It was Barak! The dead Gatemaster! Slain by the Rucks far away on the shores of the Argon River! "All delved chambers have ways* in," Barak intoned in a sepulchral voice, "and ways out, if you can find the secret of the door and have the key. Without the key even a Wizard or an evil Vulk cannot pass through some doors." The raft burst into flames, and Barak lay down onvthe platform and uttered one more word: "Gldr!"

  The burning raft whirled off on the swift-running silveron vein, and Perry woke up calling out, "Barak! Barak! Come back!"

  When Perry opened his eyes, Shannon Silverleaf was bending over the Warrow shaking him by the shoulder. "Wake up, Friend Perry," urged the Elf, "your slumber disturbs you."

  "Oh, Shannon, I had the strangest dream," declared the Warrow, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the far wall to see if it was truly transparent; but he saw only solid stone. "It was all mixed up with rivers of silveron, the Rucks, this chamber, the Dread, and a conversation I had with Barak long ago in our last camp by the Great River Argon, where he was slain."

  "Though Elves do not sleep as Men, Drimma, and Waerlinga do," stated Shannon, "still I believe I can understand the way of some dreams. Though many are strange and appear to make little sense, now and again darktide visions do seem to have significance; mayhap yours is one of those."

  "Maybe it is," agreed Perry. "I've got to talk to Delk. He's a Gatemaster, as was Barak." The Warrow rose and went to the brown-bearded Dwarf who was standing guard at

  the notch with Ursor. "Delk," began Perry, "Barak and I often chatted at night. Once he told me that all delved chambers had doors, some secret; and for those what is needed is to divine each secret and to have the key it calls for. Delk, this Gargon's Lair is a delved chamber. Surely there must be a way out other than through a hole in a broken wall. Barak must be right."

  "Were this chamber Chak-deived, I would agree," grunted Delk, "but it is not. The work is more like that of… of.._." Delk fell silent in thought, then continued. "Old beyond measure, I deem, like the work of an ancient Folk called the Lianion-Elves-though but traces of their craft remain that I have seen."

  "Lianion-Elves?" exclaimed Shannon. "The Lianion-Elves are my Folk, the Lian!" Now it was Silverieaf's turn to fall silent and study the chamber. "You are correct, Drimm Delk: this chamber does resemble the work of my ancestors, though it is different in some ways. I knew that my Folk had known of the Lost Prison, but that we delved it would be news to me. And if delved by the Lian, I doubt that originally it was meant to house such a guest as a Gargon-though as to its initial intent, I cannot say."

  "Well, if Barak was right," said Perry, "there is a secret way out strong enough to defy even an evil Vulk. And if we can find it, maybe we can divine the way to open it. You are a Gatemaster, Delk; surely you can locate a hidden door. And you, Shannon, your Folk perhaps made this place; maybe you can find the secret way. We've got to try."

  "Ah, but Friend Perry," protested Delk, "we all have searched every square inch-walls and floor alike-and we have found nought." Delk looked from the cleft to the far wall and finally at the slain Rucks; then he growled thoughtfully, "Nay, not all; we have not searched it all. We have not searched where the Grg arrows can reach. But the dead-Ukh barricade is now high enough that if we stay low we can safely examine the stone block in the center of the chamber.''

  Delk awakened Borin to take his place at the cleft, and then Gatemaster, Elf, and Warrow crawled to the central platform and began the search.

  Perry watched as the other two carefully inspected the stone, but his mind kept spinning back to his dream of Barak: the Dwarf had said, "Gldr!" yet Perry knew as a Ravenbook Scholar that gldr was the Sluk word for "fire." Though the raft in-the dream had burst into flames, why would^he dream that Barak had said a Sliik word? How did fire bear on their problem? Maybe it meant nothing. Perry watched as the search continued.

  Delk had begun to examine the silveron seam running up the side of the block, and suddenly he gave a start. "This vein is not native to the stone," he muttered after long study, "it is crofted! — made to look like a natural branching of the starsilver offshoot. And see! Here the silveron is shaped strangely, like two runes-though I cannot fathom their message."

  Shannon crawled around to join Delk, staying well below — ^ the Ruck arrow line, and peered at the silver thread, "These are vaguely like ancient Lian runes, made to look like odd whorls of silveron in the stone. This rune, I would guess it to say 'west,* and the other rune says 'point*-or mayhap 'pick1 is more accurate, I'm not sure. West-point or west-pick, that is the best I can guess these odd runes to mean."

  "Hola!" exclaimed Delk, "Here is a thin slot in the stone at the end of the crafted vein, as if the silveron had run its course but the crack ran on a bit. Mayhap-"

  "The Wrg are up to something," rumbled Ursor at the notch, interrupting Delk. "They may be preparing another rush. They are chittering like rats, and again I can hear them calling, 'gldr!' "

  "Gldr!" exclaimed Perry, startled. "That's what Barak t… Ah yes, I see: I heard it in my sleep. Ursor, gldr is a Sulk word for fire." The three crawled away from the stone block and out of arrow flight, and stood beside Ursor. "What can they be up to?" asked Perry, listening to the Sluk jabber.

  "I have my suspicions,'1 growled Ursor. "We've been trapped here many hours. Time enough for them to devise some terrible plot and secure the means to carry it out."

  "Look!" cried Delk, pointing to the floor at the cleft. In through the entrance a dark Eiquid flowed. They could hear a wooden barrel being broken, and a surge of fluid gushed in through the notch. "It is lamp oil," growled Delk, testing it with his finger and smelling it. Then his eyes widened- "They.seek to flood the chamber with oil and set it afire!"

  • Shannon fitted an arrow to his bow and quickly stepped across the entrance, loosing the bolt as he went. A scream came from the dark notch as the longbow-driven shaft found a victim. Delk awakened Anval and Lord Kian. The young Man joined Shannon, and they sped missiles into the cleft, and the Spawn answered with bolts of their own. In spite of the arrows, oil continued to gush forth from the notch to overspread the chamber floor.

  Perry watched in desperation, for he knew that the maggot; folk were nearly ready to transform this prison into a burning tomb. We have to get out! thought the Warrow frantically, on the edge of panic. But then with a conscious force of will he wrenched his terrified mind toward the paths of reason. Now settle down. Don't bolt. And above all, use your scholar's brains to think! The buccan believed that there was a hidden door, and he felt that the secret and its solution was wit
hin his grasp if he could only get the time to think it through. What had Barak said that night long ago on the banks of the River? Something about Lian Grafters. "These doors are usually opened by Elven-made things." Barak had said, "carven jewels, glamoured keys, ensorcelled rings," and something else, but what? What did the runes on the stone block mean, "west-point"? Perry glanced up at the Elf.

  "Lord Kian," urged Silverleaf, "before they put the torch to this oil, let us rush them. At least we will take some of that evil spawn with us." Ursor grunted his agreement, Delk thumbed the blade of his axe, and Anval and Bonn nodded. Shannon drew his long-knife, shaped much the same as Bane. "This edge of the Lian, forged in Lost Duellin-the Land of the West-will taste Rupt blood for perhaps the last time; yet this pick, though it has not the power bound into the blade as that of the Waerling's pick, will-"

  "I've got it!" shouted Perry. "I know the way out!" He flashed Bane from its scabbard, and its edges blazed with flaming blue light streaming from the rune-carven jewel. Perry held the sword high and laughed. "Here, as Barak would have said, is a spellbound blade. The key! Made by the Elves in the Land of the West. In your words, Shannon Silverleaf-and in those of the silveron runes on yon block-it is a west-pick. No wonder the Gargon couldn't get out: he hadn't a key. If I am right, then this blade-or any like it-will do with a simple thrust what the Gargon in all his awesome power could not do in three thousand years."