by A. Giannetti
The sight of several large hares, which had suddenly appeared nearby, returned Elerian’s thoughts to his surroundings. He noticed at once that the sleek brown creatures were keeping close to the larger boulders that were scattered about and often interrupted their grazing to look up at the sky. When Elerian raised his own eyes, he saw the reason for their caution, for the dark shapes of several large hawks wheeled lazily in the sky overhead, looking for prey. Elerian studied the raptors carefully with his long sight. Although there was nothing about them to indicate that they were not real hawks, he was still glad that his illusion hid the company from their sight.
“We should be on our way,” said Ascilius just then as he rose abruptly to his feet. After packing their things, the company set off once more. Running easily in single file, they continued on until the sun began to drop into the west, and the evening shadows cast by the rocks around them began to lengthen behind them into the east. As they passed a stretch of bare, soft soil by the side of the stream they were following, Ascilius suddenly stopped and pointed to a single, large cloven footprint that was clearly visible in the soft ground.
“Look at this track,” he said to his companions as they gathered around him. “I have seen no cattle about and this is far too large to be the track of a goat.”
“It is the track of the Gargol,” said Elerian positively. “The creature must have come this way on one of its hunts.”
“How can you be sure it is the same creature, Elerian?” asked Dacien worriedly, for he was still not convinced that the creature that had abducted Ascilius was the only one of its kind to have passed through the gate Elerian had closed.
“This track is at least three days old,” pointed out Elerian as he studied the dried, crumbled edges of the print. “The Gargol would have had ample time to pass this way and then return to the passageway before we ever entered it through the Black Gate.”
“You are probably right, Elerian, but I think it best to err on the side of caution,” replied Ascilius. “It will be dark soon, and I think it best if we begin searching for a place where we might safely spend the night just in case you are mistaken in your belief that there is only one of the creatures.”
“Let us hurry then,” urged Elerian. “I must end my illusion soon, otherwise the spell will become a beacon to any who have mage sight once the sun sets.”
They ran on then, all of the company except Elerian casting nervous glances all around them. In spite of his reassurances, his companions were still more than half convinced that the creature that had made the track still lurked in the valley. They had covered no more than a quarter mile before two close set, large boulders that appeared on their right attracted Ascilius’s attention because of a narrow gap between them. Hoping to find a protected place to spend the night, the Dwarf ran up to the cleft, followed by the rest of the company.
“Let me go first,” said Ascilius quietly to his companions before warily slipping through a narrow fissure whose roof was open to the darkening sky. Five paces brought Ascilius out into the open. Looking around him, he found himself on the edge of a roughly circular, grass covered opening about thirty feet wide. It was ringed by gray boulders which formed a wall around it that varied from fifteen to twenty feet high. On the far side of the hollow, forming an immovable anchor for the ring of stone, was an outcrop of gray rock, its roots extending deep beneath the surface of the valley. Near the base of the outcrop, a small trickle of clear water seeped out of a crack, running down the side of the stone to a small, clear pool ringed by thick turf. The overflow from the pool formed a small stream barely the width of Ascilius’s palm that that wandered across the clearing and disappeared under the boulders to his left. To the right of the spring, a great, flat slab of rock leaned against the outcrop, forming a shallow cave wide and deep enough to shelter the whole company.
“We could search all night and not find a better place,” said Elerian who had followed Ascilius into the clearing.
“We are well protected here,” agreed Ascilius. “I think we might even safely risk a fire under cover of that slab and have a warm meal tonight. There is a good deal of driftwood along the banks of the stream, flotsam from the spring floods. It should be enough to fuel a natural fire which will be safer than a mage fire.”
“I will bring some wood,” offered Dacien who, along with the rest of the company, had now entered the ring of stones. He left the hollow accompanied by Triarus who was constantly at his side now. A heap of loose stone forming a mound on the right side of the overhang now drew Ascilius’s eye, for it had an unnatural look.
“This rock has been worked with tools,” he said in surprise to Elerian and his cousins after he examined several of the stones. Cordus and Cyricus quickly gathered around him and voiced the same opinion. To their trained eyes, the marks of hammers, chisels, and other tools were clearly visible on the stones. Elerian saw them, too, now that the Ascilius had pointed them out. Even more mysterious was a series of handholds carved into the boulder that reared up behind the mound of loose stone. They extended almost to the summit of the face of the stone, which was a good twenty feet tall. A careful search of the clearing by the four companions failed to reveal any other sign of mining activity, adding to the mystery of where the worked stone had come from.
Elerian quit the exploration first, for thoughts of the game he had seen earlier were on his mind. After shedding his pack under the overhang, he took his bow out of its leather case and with a quiver full of arrows on his back, left the clearing, stealing east among the boulders to the right of the stream. He saw no sign of Triarus and Dacien, but as he had hoped, the abundant hares which lived in the valley had come out to forage on the grass in the fading light. With three well-placed arrows, he quickly collected three of them. After expertly cleaning them, Elerian removed a square of turf with Acer and dug a small hole in which he placed the offal, not wishing to leave anything about which might draw attention to the company. The sun was sinking behind the peaks to his west in a blaze of purple and red by the time he replaced the turf he had cut out earlier. Despite the thickening dark, he made his way without difficulty back to the hollow where his companions waited, walking lightly through a world now gone gray and black,
As soon as he passed through the cleft, Elerian saw the flickering yellow flames of a small fire beneath the overhang of stone. Dacien and Triarus had evidently found more than enough driftwood along the banks of the stream to build a fire. The small pool of yellow light illuminated the figures of his companions who were seated around it in a circle. Above their heads, the few wisps of smoke the fire gave out were trapped in a thin cloud of blue beneath the slab. As Elerian stepped beneath the overhang, his vision adjusted to the light, and the darkness around him suddenly deepened as his eyes lost much of their ability to penetrate the shadows.
Ascilius had already laid out their cooking gear and had thick slices of smoked bacon sizzling in the shallow iron skillets they carried in their packs. He eagerly took the hares Elerian carried, quickly cutting them into pieces with a small, sharp knife before rolling them in flour and frying them in hot bacon fat. The toothsome smell that rose from the pans set everyone's mouth to watering as Cordus and Cyricus set out biscuits and a flask of red wine to go with the game. When Ascilius declared the meal ready, everyone sat around the fire and ate, the light cast by the flames of their small cook fire flickering across their faces and casting shifting shadows on the rocks behind them. Once they had finished their meal and had cleaned up, Ascilius reluctantly threw dirt on the fire.
“That was dangerous,” he said in his deep voice, “but it was good to have warmth and a hot meal. We are not likely to have much of either in the days to come.”
“This is a lonely place without a fire,” observed Triarus nervously as the last bit of light from the fire was extinguished. Unlike Elerian and the Dwarves, he and Dacien now saw only impenetrable darkness around them despite the stars overhead and the slivered moon. In the silence that foll
owed his somber words, every member of the company suddenly heard claws rasping on stone outside the narrow gap that led into their campsite. The alarming sounds were followed by frustrated growls and grunts, as if some large creature sought to force its way through the opening. Apprehensively, every member of the company leaped to his feet. Drawing their weapons, they all waited with bated breath to see what would happen next. A last, forceful huff of exhaled air came from the cleft, and then there was silence again. Elerian heard the soft tread of feet moving away in the grass outside the circle of stones, but whether they possessed hooves or pads, he could not tell. Sheathing his knives, he sat down again as did his companions one by one.
“Was that the Gargol?” whispered Triarus in a quavering voice.
“Whatever it was it is gone,” replied Elerian reassuringly. “The narrowness of the cleft defeated it.”
“We should rest now, for we must get an early start in the morning,” said Ascilius in his deep voice. “There is no cause for worry. Elerian will keep watch while we sleep.”
After the others had wrapped themselves in their blankets, Elerian walked over to the cleft but sensed nothing outside the hollow. More than likely, the nightwalker they had heard earlier had gone elsewhere to seek prey to fill its belly. As he returned to the overhang where his companions slept, he happened to glance at the face of the outcrop to the left of their camp. To his surprise, he saw the faint gleam of fine lines etched into the face of the moonlit stone. With a silent, light tread, Elerian approached the stone face. When he stood before it, he saw that his eyes had not deceived him, for lines, thin as spider’s silk, gleamed in the light of the moon, sketching the outline of a door.
“What have we here?” wondered Elerian to himself before walking back to the overhang. With his right hand, he gently shook Ascilius’s right shoulder.
THE DWELLING
Ascilius started awake instantly at the touch of Elerian’s hand, but veteran campaigner that he was, made no sound or movement when he opened his eyes and saw Elerian bending over him.
“Come with me, Ascilius,” whispered Elerian. “I have seen something that requires the attention of a Dwarf.” Knuckling the sleep out of his eyes with his left hand, Ascilius reluctantly rose from his blankets. Taking up Fulmen in his right hand, he followed Elerian away from the overhang.
“What is it?” he asked quietly and somewhat grumpily when they stood shoulder to shoulder before the wall of stone where Elerian had seen the gleam of argentum. “Why did you wake me?”
“If you look closely, you will see that there is a door here,” replied Elerian softly. “See if you can open it.” Ascilius looked closely at the stone face before him, observing for the first time the faint lines which had attracted Elerian’s attention.
“A Dwarf door,” he muttered excitedly to himself. Filled with curiosity, he began to recite opening spells softly in his own language until, finally, there was a click, and a dark outline appeared in the stone wall before him. An instant later, the stone portal swung inward of its own volition on silent hinges. Wide-awake now and eager to explore the mysterious opening before him, Ascilius lit a small mage light which positioned itself about a foot above his head. Small and dim as the glow of a firefly, its faint rays more than sufficed to light the way for him and Elerian. The magical light revealed a small landing and beyond that a flight of rough-hewn stone steps leading down into the base of the outcrop. After stepping cautiously through the doorway, Ascilius paused on the landing and sniffed the air in a professional manner.
“The air emanating from inside this place is stale but it seems wholesome,” he said quietly to Elerian. “It should be safe enough to go on.” Warily, with Elerian at his heels, Ascilius began to descend the stairs. A dozen steps brought him and Elerian down to a large room about fifteen feet long by twenty feet wide. In its center was a large wooden table that had been upended onto the floor. Scattered around it were the remains of a number of chairs and benches, all elaborately carved and polished but dusty with the passage of the years. In the far wall of the chamber was a large fireplace. Hanging on one hinge to the right of it was a heavy wooden door, the dark tunnel behind it partially exposed. To the left of the fireplace, a steady trickle of water ran out of the wall into a stone basin before draining away into a hidden recess. The wall above the basin was lined with wooden shelves, but the crockery and cooking gear which had rested on them at one time were all smashed and broken on the floor below the shelves. Near the left hand wall of the chamber, the remains of another wooden door lay on the floor, exposing the dark entrance to a hall.
“I did not think that any of my people ever settled this far north of the Broken Lands, but this is definitely a Dwarf dwelling,” said Ascilius excitedly to Elerian. “Only a Dwarf could have constructed such a clever entryway door. Let us examine the living quarters first. They may yield us some clue as to who built this place.”
When he and Elerian entered the passageway in the left hand wall, they saw three doorways on each side of the hall. In each one lay the remains of a wooden door torn violently from its hinges and cast down onto the stone floor of the rooms that lay beyond the doorways. Looking into each room in turn, the two companions saw Dwarf sized beds, each one torn to pieces.
“What could have caused all this destruction?” asked Elerian in a puzzled voice when he and Ascilius stood before the last entryway. “The front door was locked fast. Did one of the inhabitants of this place slay the others and then leave, locking the door behind him?”
“That would be unusual,” said Ascilius shaking his head in perplexity. “Dwarves will argue amongst themselves, but they seldom fight one another. Some outside force must have caused this ruin.” As he turned to leave, a small box, partially hidden in the debris scattered across the floor of the last bedroom, attracted Ascilius’s attention. After handing Fulmen to Elerian, he stepped into the room and lifted up the box with both hands. Perhaps eight inches high and wide and a foot long, it was made of oak which had darkened with age. Its silver hinges and clasp were also tarnished black by the passage of time. Opening the clasp, Ascilius curiously lifted the lid.
“This box is full of rocks,” said Elerian in a puzzled voice as he looked over the Dwarf’s shoulder into the small chest.
“Each one of these rocks, as you name them in your ignorance, is worth many bars of gold,” said Ascilius sharply as he took one of the dull, oily looking stones out of the chest with fingers that trembled slightly. “These are all pieces of adamant!” he said excitedly. Drawing a sharp edge of the gem he held across a nearby wall, he left a deep, pale score mark in the stone, but the gem in his hand remained unscathed by the rough treatment. “With treasures like these to be had, it is no wonder that Dwarves ventured here in spite of the danger from both Trolls and the guardian of the passageway,” exclaimed Ascilius animatedly. Reaching into the chest with his right hand, Elerian took one large stone from the box and stowed the gem in a pocket.
“This gem and its magical properties may provide me with a way to persuade Ascilius to free me from my promise,” he thought to himself, his half-formed plan for entering Tyranus taking final shape in his mind.
“Have you changed your mind about treasure then?” asked Ascilius approvingly after Elerian pocketed the raw gem.
“Only this one piece,” replied Elerian cryptically. He noticed then that a bit of brown leather was visible through a gap he had created between the stones that remained in the chest.
“There is something else in the box,” Elerian said to Ascilius as he reached beneath the raw gems and lifted out a small leather-bound book.
“A ledger,” exclaimed the Dwarf. “This book may contain the clues we are searching for. Let us take it back to the central chamber.” Carrying the chest under his right arm, he and Elerian returned to the common room. There, with his companion’s help, Ascilius righted the heavy, wooden table that had been upended onto the floor. Elerian then carefully opened the book on its scarred, woode
n surface, its pages crackling as he spread them apart, for they were brittle with age.
“This is written in Corach, the language of your people,” said Elerian to Ascilius as he glanced quickly over sheets covered with figures and short entries. He could read the Dwarf language although not so well as he read Elvish. “It appears to be only a ledger,” he added, stopping in disappointment when he came to a blank page.
“There are notes sometimes at the end of these books,” said Ascilius as he took Elerian’s place in front of the ancient tome. Under the dim rays of the mage light which hovered over his head, he began to thumb through a series of blank pages, until he unexpectedly exposed a sheet covered with spidery script. “See, this part is a journal,” he said excitedly to Elerian. In his deep voice, he began to read from the first page.
“I, Fodere, leave behind this journal so that my descendants will know the source of our wealth and how I discovered it. I have included a map in case any of them are hardy enough to follow in my footsteps.” Ascilius paused in his reading to examine the map which the author of the journal had drawn. “This map gives very specific directions on how to reach this dwelling,” he said to Elerian after a moment. “More entries follow it.” He began to read again.
“During the Dwarf migration from the west almost one hundred years ago, I, along with the rest of my people, passed through a valley east of the Nivalis where we were attacked by Trolls. What happened after we fled from them under the mountains to the west is common knowledge, and I will not repeat it here. I will only say that I was one of the fortunate ones who came out safe in the Caldaria. There I prospered in our new kingdom of Iulius, but the memory of the valley we had passed through on the far side of the mountains was always with me, for I sensed valuable ores and precious gem beneath my feet when I walked through it. Five score years passed. Then, despite the danger from Trolls and the monster that might still haunt the passageway behind the Black Gate, I left Iulius with my three sons, their wives, and their children. We numbered ten altogether, all of us determined to recover the treasures that I had sensed in the valley of the Trolls. After traveling west to the Broken Lands laden with supplies and mining gear, we secretly made our way north. We reached the valley I remembered without incident, settling in a protected place surrounded by stone walls where we could work without being seen. There we dug living quarters and sank a mineshaft.”
