The Brega path tsc-2

by Dennis McKiernan

  And Durek directed the Warrow's eyes down onto the Pitch, and like tiny specks, a work crew of Dwarven Folk could be seen fetching water from the Quadmere. And Durek and Perry looked deeper down into the Quadran, and there in a great fold of stone on Ghatan's flank stood the Vorvor, a whirling churning gurge deeply entwined in Dwarven legend: There a secret river burst forth from the underearth to rage around a great stone basin and plunge down into the dark again; and a great gaping whirlpool raved endlessly and sucked at the sky and funneled deep into the black depths below. Dwarves tell that when the world was young and First.Durek trod its margins, he came unto this place. And vile tlkhs, shouting in glee, captured him and from a high stone ledge they flung him into the spin, and the sucking maw drew him down. According to the legend, none else had e'er survived that fate; yet First Durek did, though how, it is not said. To the very edge of the Realm of Death, and perhaps beyond, he was taken, yet Life at last found him on a rocky shore within a vast, undelved, undermountain realm; and First Durek strode where none else had gone before-treading through that Kingdom which was to become Kraggen-cor. How he came again unto the light of day, it is not told; yet it said that Daun Gate stands upon the very spot where he walked out through the mountainside; but how he crossed the Great Deop remains an enigma, though some believe that he was aided by the Utruni-the Stone Giants. And the enmity with Squam began here too, more deadly than the ravening whirl of the rearing Vorvor.

  Yet none of this legend did Perry and Durek speak upon at length, for the violence of the Vorvor was remote down within the Quadran; and the distant whirling waters seemed to twist around in silence, for only a winking glitter of the far-off wheeling funnel reached up into the lofty aerie.

  Durek glanced at the sky, gauging where stood the Sun. "Here, Friend Perry," the Dwarf King counseled, "sit here." And he led the Warrow to an unworked quartzen outcrop, in part naturally shaped much the same as the bench of a massive throne. "Look east to the peak of Ghatan, just there where the high cleft and grey crag meet. And wait, for the time is nearly upon us."

  And so they waited in silence, Perry's gaze locked upon the place Durek had directed. Slowly the Sun came unto the zenith, and lo! a circlet of light bejewelled with five stars sprang forth from deep within the crags. Perry looked in wonder at the Dwarf King and saw that the studded circlet and stars on Seventh Durek's armor were arrayed in the same number and fashion as those reflected from the spire of Ghatan.

  "You see before you the Chakkacyth Ryng-the Dwar-venkith Ring," declared the Dwarf, "spangled with a star for each Line of the Chakka Kindred. Ever has the Ryng lived in our legends. Ever has it signified the unity of our Folk. And I came to Kraggen-cor to claim the Ryng for myself and my kith. But alas!! did not know the terrible cost that such a sigil would bear.

  "I now feel that I will be the last King of Durek's Folk, and that after me we shall be no more. Oh, we shall not die, nor leave Mitheor; but instead, I deem we must come together with others of our Race to merge our blood with theirs, and the pure line of Durek will vanish. For if we do not meet and merge with others of our kind, Durek's Folk will fall into weakness and futility; our losses were staggering, and alone, we who were the mightiest cannot recover.

  "Already Chakkadom is spread thinly, and our numbers gradually dwindle, for we are slow to bear young. I think that this War has sounded the death knell of the separate Chakka Kindred, and to survive, the Five Kith must become but one. Accordingly, I have sent out the word of our… victory- hot only to Mineholt North, where my trothmate Rith and the families of my warriors even now prepare to join us, but also to the other Chak Kindred both near and distant, asking any who would come to do so.

  "I brought you here, Friend Perry, to show you that Ryng, to show you that symbol of our dream: five stars upon a perfect circle. But I also wished to show you the cost of that dream-for as it can be with each great dream, sometimes the cost to the dreamer is staggering.

  "All dreams fetch with a silver call, and to some the belling of that treasured voice is irresistible. And in many quests, the silver turns to dross, while in others, it remains precious; but in the harsh crucibles of some quests, the silver Is transformed into ruthless metal. Such was the case with bom of our dreams, Waeran, yours and mine: we answered to the lure of a silver call, but found instead cruel iron at quest's end. Yet what is done is done, and we cannot call it back, we cannot flee into yesterday.

  "That does not mean that it is wrong to dream, nor does it mean that one should not reach for a dream. But it does mean mat all dreams exact a price: sometimes trivial, sometimes more than can be borne.

  "Some dreams are small: a garden patch, a rosebush, the Grafting of a simple thing. Some dreams are grand: a great journey, a dangerous feat, the winning of a Kingdom. And die greater the dream, the greater the reward-yet the greater can be the cost. One cannot reach for a dream and remain unchanged, and that change is part of the cost of the dream. But when events go awry and disaster strikes, each of us who dreams must not let his spirit be crushed by the outcome.

  "A person can be safe and never reach for his dream, never risk failure, never expose his spirit to the dangers inherent, but then he will never reap the rewards of a dream realized, and he might never truly live.

  "Friend Perry, you reached for your dream, you grasped it, and held on to the very end. You found that the cost was high-higher than any of us had anticipated. And now you would go and rest and be at peace, and I believe you should. But do not hide away and brood, and fester, and become small in spirit; instead, rest, and reflect, and grow."

  Durek then fell silent. And as the Sun passed beyond the zenith, Perry and the Dwarven King sat upon the Mountain Throne, and together they watched the Ring fade from sight- and as the glitter dimmed, the grasping bitterness gently fell away from the Warrow's heart, though the deep sadness remained. After a while, they stood and walked in silence back into Kraggen-cor, closing the bronze door behind.

  The next morning. Cotton and Perry prepared to leave. They would head back through Kraggen-cor to Dusk-Door, and Silverleaf would go with them: Shannon was to be their guide through Lianion to the place called Luren. And as the Warrows prepared, so did Lord Kian; in the company of the Elves of Darda Erynian he would go east to the Rissanin River and then northeasterly to Dael, returning to Riamon and his Kingdom.

  At last all was ready. Perry and Cotton, Shannon and Kian, all stood with Durek in the Great Chamber of the Sixth Rise. None knew what to say, for it was a sad moment. The Man looked to the center of the hall, to a white stone tomb-a tomb upon which lay an unadorned blackhandled sword of Riamon-a tomb wherein Prince Rand had been laid to rest in honor. And tears sprang into Kian's eyes. Durek followed the young Lord's gaze and said, "Your brother died in glory and is the only Man ever to be so honored by the Chikka."

  Tears coursed down the cheeks of the Warrows, and Kian turned to them and pledged, "I shall come to the Boskydells after a time, and we'll have a pipe and speak of better things. Look for me in the spring, summer, or fall, not the next but perhaps the ones after; but do not look for me in the winter, for it will be bleak and stir up too many painful memories. I will come when the grief has faded to but an old sadness." He embraced the Waerlinga and clasped the forearm of Shannon and Durek, and without another word, — turned and walked swiftly away through the lantern light, striding toward the Dawn-Gate, where awaited his escort of Elves.

  "Fare you well," called Cotton after him, but Perry could say nought.

  Then Perry and Cotton in turn took the hand of Durek and said goodbye. And Durek gave Cotton a smalt bag of silver pennies to see to their expenses on the way home, and a small silver cask, locked with a key, that they were not to open until they had returned to The Root-and what was inside was for the both of them. He returned to Perry the silveron armor; and the quarrel hole had been repaired by Durek himself, the arrow-shattered amber gem now replaced by a red jewel, and all the gems were now reinforced behind by starsilver links. An
d Durek bade him to put the armor on. Perry donned the mail but vowed, "I have had enough of fighting and War, and though I wear this armor, I will fight no more.

  The Warrows and Shannon turned and began trudging west across the floor, along the Brega Path. Durek watched them go, and before they entered the west corridor he called out after them, "Perhaps I, too, will come to your Land of the Bosky."

  And only silence followed.

  The trio spent that night in the Grate Room, and the next morning they went on. When they came to the Bottom Chamber, Perry did not look at the cleft in the wall where Ursor had gone, but instead he hurried past with his eyes downcast to the stone floor. They came to the eight-foot-wide Fissure and found that the Dwarves had constructed a wooden bridge over it to carry the supplies across, and the Warrows were relieved mat they didn't have to leap above the dreadful depths of the Drawing Dark. Onward they went until they came to the stairs leading down to Dusk-Door, and at the bottom they found the gates standing wide and two Dwarves guarding the portal.

  "This is where the Dark Mere was," said Cotton, pointing at the black crater, "and all that rock down there is what used to cover the Door." Perry looked at the tons of debris strewn

  over the ancient courtyard, and wondered how the Dwarven Army had ever managed to move all that mass.

  In silence they passed the cairns along the Great Loom, and only the sound of the free-flowing Duskrill intruded upon their thoughts. As they came to the vale. Cotton called Perry's attention to the Sentinel Falls, now a silver cascade, falling asplash upon a great mound of rock. "There stood the dam that was broken, and down under that heap of stone is the dead Monster." Perry looked on and shuddered.

  That night they talked with members of the Dwarf Company at Dusk-Door and with two Valonian riders, messengers. They were told that most of the waggons now stood empty, the supplies having been taken into Kraggen-cor. Messages had been borne by rider south to Valon and Pellar and the Red Hills, and Dwarven kindred would be coming north to bring more supplies and to gather the wain horses from the Vanadurin and to take the surplus waggons and teams south. And some Dwarves would be coming north to remain in Drimmen-deeve.

  Durek had sent word to the Company of the Dusken Door mat Cotton, Perry, and Shannon would be coming, and a waggon with a team had been prepared with the provisions needed for the trip to Luren and to the Bosky dells beyond.

  The trio ate a short meal and then retired for the night.

  The next morning, waving goodbye to the Dusk-Door Company, the trio in the wain started west down the Spur, Cotton at the reins. They emerged along the foothills and turned south, following the Old Rell Way toward me River Hath. The Old Way wended toward Gunar, and slowly the waggon rolled along its overgrown, abandoned bed. Shannon spoke of the days when there was trade between the Realms of Drimmen-deeve and Lianion-called Rell by Men-and the city of Old Luren, now destroyed. The roadbed they followed would lead to the new settlement on the site of those ancient ruins.

  In late morning they crested a ridge and looked down into a wide grassy valley, where they saw a great herd of a thousand horses grazing beside a glittering stream in the winter pasture. Soon they came to the camp of the Harlmgar, and there they were hailed by raven-helmed Brytta. And the riders were pleased to look once more upon the Waldfolc, and they

  treated the Elf with the utmost respect. And the three travellers took a meal with the Vanadurin; and Brytta ate with his left hand while he loosed an occasional oath at the awkwardness caused by his tender bandaged right. And in his oath-saying, he was joined by his bloodkith, Brath, whose left arm was broken, and by Gannon with the shattered fingers, who was fed by both of them, much to his disgust and their amusement.

  They spoke on the War, and talked of the final battle, and then Cotton asked the Valanreach Marshal to tell his tale.

  Brytta told them of the desperate ride to Quadran Pass in pursuit of the foul Rutchen spies, and the ambush and battle with the ravagers. Brytta's voice dropped low when he spoke of the Drokh who may have escaped, for the Marshal yet held himself at fault in this, even though it was now clear that whether or not the Drokh had reached the High Gate to warn Gnar, it had had no bearing on the outcome. Brytta then spoke of the long dash back to the Ragad Valley, summoned by Farlon's recall beacon, only to find the vale empty of the Dwarf Army, the Host having entered the Black Hole. And he told of bringing the wounded and the herd south, and of setting the guard atop the Sentinel Stand to signal should the Wrg flee the Dwarves' axes out through the Dusk-Door: "But the Spawn never came…" His tale done, his voice dwindled to silence.

  "Just so!" groused Wylf in the lull, his countenance chap-fallen. "The Wrg never came… not while I was near. For during the battle of Stormhelm Defile, I was stuck atop Redguard Mount. And they came not the next night when I sat ambush on the road to Quadran Col. Nor did they flee out of the Door while I warded atop the Sentinel Stand. They never came to me, or to Farlon. We alone of all the brethren did not get to share in the great vermin-slaughter. Yet I suppose we served as well by watching for the enemy-though he never stood before us-and by tending the wounded and the herd. Even so, it seems that fortune could have thrown at least one or two Wrg our way."

  "It was not ill fortune that kept the Spawn from you," declared Perry. "Rather, it was to your good, for War is bitter luck indeed." And the small Warrow fell silent and said no more, and Brytta looked at him with surprised eyes.

  The Sun was bright and the air still, and in the grassy vale a gentle warmth o'erspread the land. All was quiet. But then the startling sound of sharp fife and tapping timbrel floated through the calm, and Perry saw nearby a loose circle of Brytta's Men sitting upon the earth. And from this circle came the pipe and tap. One by one the Men joined in the music, their hands clapping time to the air. Soon all there were sounding the beat, and some gave over their long-knives to comrades, who added the iron tocsin of blade on blade to the rhythm. Quickly the tune became more barbaric, wild fife and drum and steel on steel and strong hands clapping. And as Perry watched, a young warrior sprang to circle center and whirled 'round the fire, his feet stamping the earth, joining the savage beat. He spun and gyred and leapt high, and fierce shouts burst forth from his companions as the wild dancer whirled and tumbled and cartwheeled over the flames.

  Perry's heart was tugged two ways, and he turned to Brytta: "How can they be so festive?" he asked, and his silent thoughts went on to add, when so many have perished.

  Brytta's gaze strayed far away to a coppice of silver birch at the distant high eastern reach of the grassy vale. A great curving stone upjut on the mountain flanks cupped the grove, sheltering the clean-limbed trees from harsh mountain winds. Beyond Brytta's sight, but nevertheless seen by him, there, too, were five fresh mounds in the sward; five barrow mounds where five warriors slept the eternal sleep 'neath green turves: Art, Dalen, Haddor, Lumen, and Raech, forever standing guard o'er the sheltered glen. And this dale became known in later years as the Valley of the Five Riders. It was said that weary, riderless horses often made their way to this place, to rest and heal and become strong again, to eat of the green grass and drink of the crystalline water springing forth from the stone bluff and flowing out and down through the peaceful land. And it was also said that at times in the dim twilight shadows or misty early dawn, die faint sound of distant oxen horns hovered on the edge of hearing.

  Brytta's eyes rested momentarily upon the far wooded dell, and his sight misted over, and then he answered Perry: "It is not a gay dance, not a happy tune my scouts tap to. No, not festive; they are not festive. Yet in time they will be. For life continues, and grief fades."

  Of a sudden, the wild piping and stamping dance, the tattoo beat and steely claque, and fierce clapping and savage shouts, all stopped; silence fell heavily down upon the still vale, and not an echo or whisper of the frenzied music remained. And Perry looked and saw that deep dolor pressed a heavy hand down upon them all.

  At that moment, Hogon rode up l
eading two horses, and Cotton shouted in glee, "Brownie! Downy!" And he leapt up and ran to greet them as Hogon and Brytta smiled widely.

  "We thought you would come hence," explained Hogon, "so we have kept them nearby."

  "Oh, thank you, Hogon; thank you, Brytta," bubbled Cotton, and his face was aglow. "They are a sight for sore eyes." T'len he turned to the horses, and they nuzzled and nudged the Warrow. "Why, you rascals, you've grown fat and frisky in these parts! Wull, we're just going to have to work some o' that stoutness off of you."

  And so, when Perry, Cotton, and Shannon said goodbye to the Men of Valon, it was Brownie and Downy in harness pulling the waggon toward the south. And as they at last crested the austral rim of the valley, the trio paused and looked far back into the vale, and waved to the distant Harlingar. And floating up to them on the breeze came the lomly cry of Brytta's black-oxen horn: Taaa-tan, tan-taaa, tan-taaa! {Tit we meet again, fare you well, fare you well.'} And with that faint call echoing in their hearts, Cotton flicked the reins and they passed from the sight of the Vanadurin.

  The waggon rolled southward for two days, and just before.sunset of the second day, they reached the River Hath. The ford was shallow, and they made the crossing with ease. The abandoned Old Way turned westward, and they followed its course. They drove by day and camped at night, and because it was winter they found the days short and blustery and the nights long and cold. They dressed as warmly as they could, donning the quilted down-suits given to them by the Dwarves; at night they camped in sheltered ravines and built warm Fires. Still, by night and day alike, the icy chill drove a dull ache deeply into Perry's tender shoulder; and each morning when he awakened, his arm was stiff and could be moved but gingerly.