Crouching tow, the small Warrow stepped through the inflowing oil to the stone block and plunged the blade into the slot at the end of the silver line. The Elven-knife went in to the hilt. There was a low rumble of massive stone grating upon stone, and a great slab ponderously swung away from the far wall; a black opening yawned before them where solid stone had been.
Shouts of astonishment burst forth from the Squad, yet Gatemaster Delk had the wit to call out above their cries, "Withdraw the sword and do not plunge it in again, else the portal will close once more!"
Heeding Delk's words, Perry immediately withdrew the-dazzling blade, and the door remained open; but the Warrow's thoughts were upon another Gatemaster, now dead: the one who had shown him the way. "Barak, you were right," whispered the Warrow quietly. "Thank you.
A Rucken horn blared from the notch and a stentorian voice snarled, "Glar!" They were bringing a torch to fire the oil.
"Quickly!" shouted Kian, catching up his pack. "We must fly!" Each of the companions took up his own bundle and headed for the open door: Kian in the lead, Delk last. The oil made the stone floor as slippery as ice, and the footing was difficult; haste was needed yet couid not be afforded. "Hurry!" Kian urged as he reached the door and stood by the open portal. '
Just then there was a great Whoosh! as the oil was fired and flames ran into the chamber, lighting it a lurid red. The dark shadows were driven from the far recesses of the room, and through the blaze the Spaunen could see for the first time the opened, secret door. They snarled and howled in rage-their victims were escaping! — and their own Spawn-set fire would cut off pursuit!
As the companions tumbled across the doorsill, inches ahead of the flames, a burst of black arrows whined across the room, most to splinter against the stone wall; but one shaft took Delk through the neck, and he fell dead at the threshold. Lord Kian reached for the fallen Dwarf, but a hot blast of fire drove the Man backwards through the door as the last of the oil ignited.
The portal had opened into an undelved cavern leading away from the chamber. The companions were waiting just around a corner when Kian stumbled into tneir midst, singed and gasping. "Delk is dead. Rupt arrow." Anval and Bonn cast their hoods over their heads, and Perry bit his lower Up and tears sprang into his sapphire-jewelled eyes.
The raging flames behind them pitched writhing shadows on the walls of the cavern, and the grotto was illuminated a dull red. Towering stark stones stared silently at the group huddled below, and the sound of weeping was lost in the roar of the blaze. Massive blocks and ramped ledges stood across the cave, barring the way for as far as the firelight shone, and the rock yielded not to the grief.
Lord Kian looked at the group standing numbly before him. "He is wreathed in flame," said Kian above the sound of the fire, "and his funeral chamber contains the weapons of the foes he slew. Thus he goes in honor on his final journey. Delk will be missed; he will be remembered. But he would urge us to mourn not, and to go on-for Durek needs us, and we are late."
For long moments no one spoke, and the only sound heard was the brawl of the fire. Then finally:
"You speak true. Lord Kian," concurred Anval, casting back his hood with effort. "There will come a time when we will mourn the loss of Delk Steelshank, but now we must go on to the Dusken Door-though how we will repair it without his aid, I cannot say. Our Gatemaster has fallen, and there is little hope for our mission without his gifted hand."
"But we must try," interjected Perry, choking back his grief, "else all this has been in vain. We must get back to the Brega Path and on to the western portal-though whether there is yet time to do so, I know not."
"It is sunset of the twenty-fourth of November," announced Shannon. "There remains but one and thirty hours until Durek is to attempt the opening of the Door."
"Now that Delk has fallen, I will lead," stated Bonn, casting his own hood from his head, "though I cannot take his place. And I shall try to hew to his plan, turning always back toward the Brega Path when fortune allows me the choice."
"Then let us go away from this bitter place now," urged, Perry. Lord Kian nodded, and Borin set forth, climbing up the ramps.and across the looming stones to an exit on high. And they entered a rough-floored cavern that led them generally south and west.
The way was slow and difficult, for they had to clamber up and down steep slopes and over great obstacles. Giant Urspr often lifted Perry up to ledges just out of the Warrow's reach., or lowered him down drop-offs just a bit too far for the buccan to jump. Without the big Man's help, the journey would have been beyond Perry's abilities. Even the Dwarves were hard pressed to negotiate this passage. Only nimble. Shannon seemed at ease on the rugged way. There were no offshoots from the cavern, and so a smoother way was not a matter of choice. It took them three hours to traverse just four miles of this arduous cave; and their thirst had grown beyond measure, for their water was gone.
But then they were brought up short by both a welcome and at the same time a disheartening sight: the cavern dead-ended at an underground river. The water rushed out of,the stone on the right side of the cave, and plunged under'the wall on the left side. The far bank was a narrow ledge of rock, shelving out from a sheer stone wall that ran to the ceiling with no outlet. Though he was desperately thirsty, and water was within reach, Perry flung down his pack and broke into tears of frustration, "if this doesn't beat all," he vented bitterly. "Trapped again. Stone and water before us, and Rucks and fire behind us."
And then, from far off, faintly echoing down the-cavern, came a discordant horn blare. "I fear the fire is no longer burning," declared Lord Kian, "and the Spaunen are once more in pursuit.''
CHAPTER 4
WIZARD WORD
Two Dwarves, a Warrow, and a Man threaded their way along the Great Loom of Aggarath as they walked toward the pile of.stone covering Dusk-Door. Everywhere they stepped, it seemed, they came to another fallen Dwarf warrior, slain by the monstrous Krakenward during the fearful retreat along the causeway. Durek and Bomar had cast their hoods over their heads, as is the manner of Dwarven grief; tears silently coursed down Cotton's cheeks as the Warrow passed the broken bodies; and Rand's countenance was bleak. But they did not stop to mourn, for as Durek had said, "There will come a time to lament, but now we must mink of the living. Our companions in the halls of Kraggen-cor depend upon us; we must not fail them,"
Where the lake once stood, a black crater now scarred the tend. Of the Dwarves drawn underwater by the malevolent creature, there was no sign. Along the sundered causeway the four strode, and over the ancient bridge. Far below in the muck-laden bed of the drained lake they could see the ancient stonework of the old Gatemoat at last revealed to the light of day after long, dark ages. With the Troll-dam destroyed, water once again flowed through an unseen fissure under the Loomwall and into the moat, filling it to spill over a formed lip in the massive bulwark, shaping the beginning of a stream. After centuries of silence, the Duskrill once more fell asplash to meander across the upper vale-now a black crater-to come to the linn of the Sentinel Falls and cascade down into the stream bed below to flow onward through the ravine of Ragad Vale.
Onward strode Cotton, Durek, Bomar, and Rand. Now they could see, here and there, the pave of the ancient courtyard before the Dusken Door, a courtyard no longer drowned, yet one burdened with mire and silt. There, too, they could see the ancient remnants of great trees that had once grown before the western portal…" The four finally came to the bank of rubble over the Door; Ijt was immense: the evil creature not only had put back ail the kone removed by the Dwarves; it had heaped even more rock /on the pile.
; Cotton looked at the great mound in dismay, for the bupcan did not see how even a Dwarf army could move this mass of stone in a week-much less in the scant hours remaining before the appointed rendezvous. Rand retrieved Brytta's spear, and picked up his own sword from where he had dropped it and had caught up Durek› axe during the Krakenward's attack. Grey Bomar stood and surveyed the ramped heap. "
King Durek," rumbled the Masterdelver, "I know not whether we can move all this stone twixt now and mid of night tomorrow." Bomar glanced at the forenoon sky. "Already I judge it to be drawing upon midmorn, and whether there are enough hours for mis labor is questionable. Yet we must try. Berez and I will set the shifts and oversee the work: one of us will guide the delving by day, the other will'lead the toil at night, for we must work nonstop by lantern light throughout the eventide, too, if we are to succeed by tomorrow night."
Durek nodded, and the foursome turned and walked back along the causeway and around the north end, to come to, the broken dam and the Sentinel Falls.
Still the Dwarf companies were in turn casting stone blocks down on the now-lifeless carcass of the Monster. The mound had grown large in the basin below the precipice, and the Duskrill plunged over the linn to cataract down onto the jagged heap; and only here and there could the'mottled green hide of the hideous creature be discerned. Cotton looked on and shuddered in revulsion, for even though only slight glimpses of the Krakenward were visible, that which could be seen was repulsive to behold.
Durek summoned Berez and called his Captains together, and the Dwarves gathered in a great circle, along with Cotton the Warrow and two Men: Prince" Rand and Reachmarshal Brytta. As soon as the Council was seated, the Dwarf King spoke: "The broken stones over the Door are piled yet higher. The task of uncovering the portal by midnight tomorrow may prove impossible, but Bomar has a plan for working day and darktide, too. But ere he speaks, I would say this:
"First, there are many fallen kindred on the sundered causeway. We cannot stop to mourn the slain, although they deserve the honor. Even though we shall not mourn, let those who sorrow work with hooded heads, and use stone from over the Door to build cairns against the Great Loom for the dead to rest within. After we have defeated the Squam, we shall decide whether to let the cairns stand for all time, or instead to delve stone tombs or set funeral pyres for all those the Maduk slew.
"Second, there are those among the Host wounded by the Monster of the Dark Mere. The injured will not issue into the caverns to fight the Grg, but will stay behind. Those among them who can, will help the healers with the more severely afflicted and prepare them for a short waggon trip south; all wounded will go with the Vanadurin when they drive the horses to better pasturage.
"Third, as Bomar will explain, we will toil in shifts. But only those removing the rubble will be working; all others must rest until it is their turn at the labor. The one exception to this rule of rest will be you, the Captains: Friend Cotton will meet with you on the morrow to describe the major features of the Brega Path, so that we will be better prepared for the War. The Chief Captains will gather here midmorning tomorrow, and all other Captains as their work shift permits that same afternoon.
"Finally, I have faith that the Host shall succeed in mis task of removing the stone, for they are staunch and have the will to overcome even this. And remember, at this very moment seven of our comrades and kindred are within, and they depend upon us. We must not fail!" Durek then gave the Council over to Bomar, who began outlining the shifts and the way of working.
Cotton tried to pay heed, but his mind simply could not concentrate upon Bomar's words. Had the Dwarf been speaking of growing a garden, or of shaping wood, or of treating an animal or a bird, then the buccan's attention would have been riveted to every syllable Bomar uttered. But the Masterdelver was speaking of stone and levers, of slings and prybars, of work shifts and duties; and even though these words were vital to the mission and vital to the rescue of Mister Perry and the others, Cotton's thoughts purely would not stay focused upon Bomar's work plan.
Instead, the Warrow again fretted about Mister Perry, wondering where the Squad was, and whether they had met with mischief: how had they fared? And his thoughts scurried along these endless paths to nowhere, for how long he did not know.
But suddenly, he became aware that he was listening intently, not to Bomar, but to the valley, for it seemed as if, above the shush of Sentinel Falls, he had heard a fainf cry; yet it was so dim, so far away-just on the edge of perception- that he wasn't at all certain whether he had actually heard.it, or had merely imagined it.
The Warrow swept his emeraldtne eyes around the circle; no Dwarf there appeared to have noted anything other than Bomar's words; yet both Rand and Brytta seemed to be listening intently for a distant call-especially Brytta, who had risen to his knees and turned his face toward the west.
There! It came again! To Cotton the call had the sound of a far-off horncry. Brytta cocked his head and held Up his broken hand. "Quiet!" he barked. A hush fell upon the Council, and only the cascade of the falling water failed to heed Brytta's sharp command,
Once more! Again! It was a homcall! Now all heard it, and it grew stronger:
A-raw, a-rahn! A-raw, a-rahn! A-raw, a-rahn! Over and again it belled, growing louder, and Marshal Brytta leapt to his feet. "A foe! Alert!" he cried, his good left hand gripping his spear as he sprang to the rock in circle center, his sharp gaze piercing the length of the valley to the'west.
"A horseman comes!" cried down a Dwarf lookout from atop the Sentinel Stand.
A-raw, a-rahn! came the call again; and at last bursting into sight along the valley floor came a rider flying at full gallop; clots of flood-dampened earth were flung.behind from plunging hooves as the horse thundered down the vale and toward the Host along the Old Rell Spur. "It's Arl!" cried Brytta. "From Redguard Mountain! From Quadran Gap!"
Couching, his spear, Brytta blew a signal upon his own black-oxen horn-Hahn! Hahn! (Here! Here!)-and he sprang toward the stairs beside the linn and plunged down them to meet the flying scout.
No sooner, it seemed, had Brytta reached the bottom of the steps than Arl pounded up, hauling his lathered mount short as he leapt to the ground. Quickly the two Men spoke in Valur-the warrior tongue of VaJon-with Arl gesticulating fiercely, his hands and spear describing numbers, directions, and actions. In but a moment Marshal Brytta brought him up,to the Council circle as all eyes followed them, and Cotton discovered his heart was racing. Brytta spoke: "It's Wrg! Some know we are here! They go to warn Gnar!"
Angry shouts burst forth from many in the circle, while others spat oaths and gripped their axes. Durek held up his.hand, and when silence returned he motioned for Brytta to continue. "It seems as though the secret High Gate is known to the Spawn after all, and we are revealed. But here, let Arl tell it."
The tall young rider of Valon stood before them. As with all the Harlingar, he was clothed in leathern breeks and soft brown boots, while a fleece vest covered his mail-clad torso. Art's steel helm sported a flowing black horse-tail crest, and his flaxen locks feli to his shoulder. He bore a spear in his left hand, while a long-knife was at his belt, and a bow and arrows could be seen at his horse's saddle, as well as a scabbarded saber. At his side depended a black-oxen horn, taken from the wild kine of the south-the mark of a Son of Harl.
It could be seen that the youth was weary; yet his manner belied the fatigue, for he stood warrior straight. With a quick sweep of his eyes, Arl's intense gaze took in the Council circle, and in a firm voice he spoke, his scout's report stripped starkly bare of all but the essential facts: "For those here who know it not, three nights past, Eddra, Wylf, and I were left atop Redguard Mountain to watch for a Wrg army should they come to attack from Quadran Col.
"Last night a torch-lit Rutchen band of thirty or so scuttled down from the Gap and turned south toward this valley.
"Leaving Wylf behind to watch for a larger force, Eddra and I rode from Redguard and trailed the Spawn at a distance.
Our plan was to divert them were they nigh to discovering the Host; or, should we fail to deflect them, our plan was to warn the Legion if the Wrg espied you here in this place.
"We followed them south for some leagues, when — the band we trailed met up with a like number coming north from the direction of this vale.
"They joined forces and turned back for Quadran G
ap. Yet heed! As they loped past where we were hidden, we overheard them cursing: '… we tell Gnar of the lake-draining army of foul-beards at the buried door!'
"Krukf" burst out Durek, siamming fist into palm, his face dark with rage. "They know who we are, where we are, our exact numbers, and our very goal!"
Again angry shouts swept forth from the Council.circle, and many pounded the flats of their axes to the ground while venting oaths. Durek struggled to master his own passion, and held up his hands for silence; and Dwarves swallowed their rage and clenched their jaws. And when quiet returned the Dwarf King motioned for Arl to continue.
"Eddra is tracking them yet, or did so til dawn," the young rider spoke on, "leaving sign along the Grg path, marking their dash for the hidden High Gate. I came as quickly as I could to warn of the danger." '.,
Ar! turned to Brytta. "Sire," he spoke urgently now to his commander, "there are perhaps seventy of them, and they are swift. Yet I think they have not now reached the pass, for dawn was nigh and first light of day wil! find them holed up until sunset, when once again they will take up the race for the Black Hole. They must be intercepted ere they can carry word to Gnar, else we are foredone; and the riders of the Valanreach are the only ones fleet enough to overhaul their track." The youth, pale and harried from his all-night venture, looked into the drawn, tired faces of Brytta and the Council, weary, too, from their night-long struggle with the Krakenward.
Durek, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, rasped, "Marshal Brytta, Warrior Arl is right. Only the Vanadurin can thwart this threat." As the Dwarf King looked.up at the Reach commander', others in the Council grunted and nodded their agreement, for it was clear that only the horse-borne Harlingar — would be swift enough to overtake the fleeing Squam. No one there knew just how far the two bands of maggot-folk had gotten before dawn broke, the oncoming dayrise forcing the Spawn to take cover in the splits and cracks of the western side of the range to await the onset of night and the final dash for the High Gate. Indeed, perhaps some had already reached that goal and even now were on their way to Gnar with news of the Dwarves at Dusk-Door.
The Brega path tsc-2 Page 7
