by Tim Flanagan
Bothelgrit licked his lips and his eyes widened in delight as he began scanning the tent. Should he choose something heavy which would be difficult to carry but contain a lot of gold, he thought to himself, or should he choose something decorative. Eventually he laid his hand upon a gold circular shield, studded with many different coloured stones and inlaid with the living rock of Goran twisting and turning in the shape of the phoenix. He picked it up and threaded his forearm through the leather straps on the reverse, testing the weight in his hand. It felt surprisingly light.
‘My own shield,’ said King Conroy, ‘although not the most valuable object in this room, you have made a very wise choice, I’m sure it will serve you as well as it has me. I admit that I shall miss the security of it against my arm when I enter the battle, but I gave you a free choice and by that I stand.’
He now turned to Ralphina, ‘what can I give a Caniard princess?' he asked.
‘I do not need gold or riches, your grace; all I dream of is my home.’
‘Then that is what I will give you. When the queen falls, we will rebuild the walls of your hall in the finest and strongest Goranean rock we can mine. The walls will stand taller than the redwoods of Firewood Forest and will shine as if they were alive. The Caniards can claim their fertile lands back and rebuild their colony with the Golden Hall once more at the heart of it.’
‘My queen and I would also be honoured to have you join us in our home in the north,’ interrupted King Bayard. ‘The wolf and horse can run free together.’
‘Thank you, both of you,’ Ralphina graciously smiled at both of the kings.
King Conroy also provided extra furs and skins for the journey, warning them that their journey would be cold.
Once they were ready King Conroy led them from the tent and across the camp. Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing and watch as they filed past one at a time. The busy camp became unusually quiet; people respectfully dropped their heads down or nodded encouragingly to them. As they approached a series of small steps that led down into the ground, they noticed that Lord Claydem of the ground dwellers was waiting for them together with the largest hammer either of the children had ever seen. The steps were part buried by dry stone dust that had blown in drifts against the walls that supported the ground above. Together with Lord Claydem they silently went down the steps towards a stone slab that blocked the entrance.
Lord Claydem swung his hammer against the slab but failed to leave any sort of mark upon the stone surface. Instead there now seemed to be a humming sound coming from within the stone itself, as if every tiny part of the stone was vibrating at once. He then swung again, striking the hammer in the centre of the slab, the humming stopped and the slab exploded into millions of small fragments on the ground.
Beyond the entrance only darkness could be seen. The time had come for them to leave the camp and make their way to the Twisted Tower and whatever their future held.
32. Into the Heart of the Cavern
The remains of the daylight that came through the entrance behind them soon faded as they reluctantly made their way deeper into the tunnels and away from the safety of the camp above ground. Bothelgrit slipped the Light of Angelist out from beneath his clothing and held it in front so they could see the way. The further into the tunnel they went, the deeper beneath the ground they seemed to be dropping. The air got cooler and there was an old stale smell that, at first, was unpleasant to their noses, but after a while they didn’t seem to notice. The light from the entrance which showed the way back became smaller and smaller until it was no bigger than a pinprick. Cobwebs covered parts of the tunnel in a sticky transparent cloth which Bothelgrit cleared away with a stick. Occasionally they would walk over the old dry bones of a ground dweller that had perished within the tunnel many years ago, before they realised what it was they had trodden on.
Despite them being constructed by short people, the tunnels were surprisingly large. The light showed the variety of rocks and coloured sediment that made up the different layers of the ground in the tunnel walls. Occasionally, they would pass between thick wooden pillars that supported parts of the tunnel, or platforms of wood holding up a crumbling ceiling or resisting the weight of earth that threatened to block their way.
‘My people needed to transport things through the tunnels,’ replied Bothelgrit after Edgar, who had expected to be bending low all of the time, being the tallest, commented on the height of the tunnels. ‘We spent most of our time living under the ground, especially during the colder seasons. These are just the access tunnels, but the actual living chambers are even larger.’
The deeper they moved along the tunnels the colder and damper the air became. They were glad of the extra skins King Conroy had provided preserving their heat as much as possible by pulling them tight around their bodies. Even Bothelgrit, who had become accustomed to the warmer climate above ground, pulled his skin beneath his chin, but didn't hesitate to continue walking deeper under ground. Edgar, as usual, remained alert and walked at the rear of the group, making sure no danger approached from behind.
The pin-prick of light from the entrance above ground had now disappeared, whether it was due to the distance they had travelled or from turning a corner, none of them were entirely sure.
Everything was silent. The only sound came from their breathing and the scuff of shoe against the ground which echoed against the tunnel walls making it sound like they were not alone.
Eventually they reached a crossroads where the tunnel divided into two further tunnels; Bothelgrit led them through the left one without any hesitation.
‘How long is it since you were last here?' asked Joe. He had not forgotten that he had been ill after trusting the ground dweller the last time they met.
‘I lose track of time, but it is about sixty years since the tunnels were sealed and abandoned.’
‘Are you sure you can remember the way then?’
‘I am an old man, even by ground dweller standards and I have forgotten many things over the years including all of the intricate details of the tunnel system that make up Dragonheart Cavern….’
‘I knew we shouldn’t have trusted him again,’ interrupted Ralphina, her raised voice rebounding off a wall somewhere ahead of them. ‘First he takes my pendant and then he nearly kills Joe by abandoning us in the marshes.’ Raelyn, who shared his feelings with Ralphina, snarled his teeth at Bothelgrit in warning.
‘I didn’t know who you were,’ said Bothelgrit in his defence. ‘You could have been a spy for the queen to trap traitors for all I knew. You should be grateful that I took you across the water at all.’
‘Ground dwellers are greedy and will do anything if the reward is large enough. You took my father’s pendant.’
‘The price you agreed for me to take you over the water was the pendant. I could have been killed by the donestre or thrown inside the tower dungeons if it had been a trap. It was only later when Lord Claydem arrived at my house that I realised who your companions were.’ Bothelgrit’s voice now also began to rise as he stopped walking and turned to face Ralphina.
‘I don’t think it is a good idea to make more noise than necessary,’ said Edgar in a calming but firm voice. ‘We have no way of knowing who or what might be down here with us and our journey has only just begun. We have a long and dangerous path ahead of us and we need to work together.’
‘Before I was interrupted,’ Bothelgrit shot a look a disgust at Ralphina, ‘I was about to tell you that although I have forgotten the way through the network of tunnels, there is actually no need to know the way.’
‘Well, how will we get to the tower?' asked Edgar.
‘The path through the tunnel is simply marked by signposts. The ground dwellers are a clever race, despite what a lot of people think, including the Caniards and good King Conroy.’
‘I haven’t seen any signposts,’ said Scarlet.
‘At the start of each tunnel or junction, the number of the tunnel is written above
the entrance on the wooden ceiling support. The tunnel to the Twisted Tower is number 1.1.3.2.7.6. The first number relates to the number of the first tunnel that we were in when we left the entrance to the outside; the second number is the second tunnel and so on. The junction we have just passed has taken us into tunnel number 1.1. At the next junction we need to take the third entrance which will be tunnel number 1.1.3., then the second entrance to tunnel 1.1.3.2., then the seventh, then the sixth.’
‘And at the end of the sixth will be the entrance to the Twisted Tower?’
‘Hopefully.’
‘But how do you know the Twisted Tower tunnel is 1.1.3.2.7.6.?' asked Ralphina, still wary of trusting Bothelgrit.
‘I looked it up before we left,’ replied the ground dweller with a knowing smile, ‘Lord Claydem has a list of every tunnel and entrance in a big book.’
Bothelgrit turned and continued walking along the tunnel. Automatically, the rest of them followed.
They continued to walk along the second tunnel until they reached a wooden door which had twisted and warped inside its frame and appeared to be embedded in the ground. There was a handle on the door as well as a heart shape cut into the centre like a window to what lay ahead. Bothelgrit tried to carefully open the door, cautious of the ceiling collapsing, but it did not move. Edgar also grasped the cold damp handle and tried pulling the door, but he couldn’t move it either.
‘We need to dig out some of the soil around the bottom of the door to make it looser,’ said Edgar, ‘then we should be able to open the door and make our way through.’
Ralphina spoke to Raelyn who immediately started scrabbling at the soil beneath the door with his front paws. Very quickly a shallow hole began to form and Edgar tried once again to pull the door open. This time it moved slightly towards him. Joe and Scarlet put their hands round the edge of the thick wooden door and helped Edgar pull it until it was wide enough for them to squeeze their way through and into the tunnel beyond.
But it wasn’t a tunnel.
Instead, they were all standing inside a large room with walls lined with flint and rocks that made up a black and white pattern. In the centre of the room was an enormous circular chimney that tapered and thinned high into the shadows above them.
‘This is the heart of the underground network. It is this kitchen and the others like it that caused it to became known as Dragonheart Cavern. At the heart of every dragon is fire. This kitchen provided the heat and food for this part of the network. Each kitchen is vented above the ground, so that the smoke does not suffocate the tunnels, but to anyone else above ground it would look like dragon fire escaping from the depths.’
‘So the stories aren’t true then? There isn’t really a dragon?’ asked Joe.
‘In the bowels of the caverns a dragon still lives,’ replied Bothelgrit.
Edgar walked around the dimly lit kitchen chamber. There were hundreds of low wooden tables and benches lying on their sides; some were even splintered and broken against the outer walls. Rusted pots and pans were scattered everywhere and in the floor itself were deep scratches: scars in what would have once been a well trodden floor.
Skeletons trapped in decayed cloth lay slumped over the tables; some were even crushed and embedded within the floor as if they had been trodden into the ground. Bothelgrit moved the pendant around the room, casting enlarged skeleton shadows onto the walls. He knelt down and examined one of the skeletons at his feet. The dusty stained cloth of his outer clothing sagged over the white bones beneath where the flesh had rotted and eventually disappeared. Cockroaches ran out of the crevices of the skull, disturbed by the light.
‘We must continue as quickly as possible,’ said Edgar uneasily as he placed his hand on the hilt of Ethera, reassuring himself that she was still there should he need her. ‘So we need the third exit?' he asked Bothelgrit as he recalled what he had said about the numbering of the tunnels.
‘Yes,’ replied the ground dweller feeling uneasy as he took a last look around the kitchen. ‘It should be over here,’ he continued, indicating another door which also had a heart cut in the centre. Above the door was the number 1.1.3. burnt onto the wood panel in the ceiling.
Once they had all regrouped they continued on their journey, Edgar took up his usual position at the back of the group and seemed more edgy than before, constantly checking behind them with his hand on his sword. Bothelgrit moved them along quicker than in the previous two tunnels. Occasionally, the light from the pendant lit up more deep scratches similar to those they had seen in the Kitchen, marked in the ground as well as the sides of the tunnel. Raelyn sniffed at them, interested in the smell, but in doing so made Ralphina more alert to the possible presence of danger.
‘Raelyn has picked up the scent of another animal that has been inside these tunnels,’ Ralphina instructed them all of Raelyn’s thoughts.
The tunnel moved forward going up hill and down slightly, but it wasn’t long before they all began to hear a roaring sound echoing off the sides of the tunnel from somewhere in front of them. With darkness behind them, they continued on, but this time with more caution and with less light as Bothelgrit cupped the pendant with his hand to leave the faintest of glows and make their approach more discreet.
33. War on the Plains of Arenadra
Everyone ate their breakfast in silence. The sun burnt away the clouds and cast a warm glow across the tents and soldiers that were already moving around the camp. It wasn’t easy for the soldiers to relax and imagine that they weren't on the brink of war.
The morning peace was broken by the deep and breathy blow of the warning horn that forced its way amongst the tents. Everyone paused, waiting to see how many more there would be. A second blow on the horn quickly followed. Every able man dropped what they were doing, left the food they had been eating and began putting their armour on and grabbed their swords. Some spent those final few seconds giving their wives what they thought could be their last kiss, or ruffled the hair of their children. Some said a private prayer to whichever god they chose, whilst others ran a whet-stone one final time along the blade of their swords, chancing their fate in the god of steel.
The third blow of the horn sounded the loudest of the three. The one that no one wanted to hear, but everyone knew would be inevitable. The queen’s army was moving and war was coming.
The camp erupted into a flurry of activity. The horses, already saddled, were untied and mounted. Every sword belt was secured around the waist and swords slid into their scabbards. Metal tipped poles were picked up by others. Pouches full of arrows were slipped over the shoulders of every archer.
The centaurs, led by Prince Chiron, ever ready and always armed, were the first to make their way out of the camp, through the tree stumps and onto the edge of the Arenadra Plains. The prince’s black and brown stallion looked particularly impressive this morning. His polished circular gold chest shield was now accompanied by gold plates protecting the shins and thighs of his legs whilst the hair from his head and tail had been plaited and twisted with coloured ribbons. Beside the prince, the centaurs formed a long line that stretched as far as could be seen in either direction. He sat motionless looking across the Plain towards the Twisted Tower and the approaching foe.
The white horse of King Conroy led the mounted section of the Goranean army to position themselves immediately behind the centaurs along with the orderly lines of King Bayard’s horsemen of the north. Behind them, row upon row of foot soldiers lined up, side by side with dwarfs and ground dwellers, nervously gripping their swords and trying to catch a glimpse of what awaited them on the other side of the dry grass lands.
The operating teams for each of the giant trebuchets moved into position lining themselves up along each of the long sides of the base to begin pushing their weapons forward and away from the cover of what remained of the forest trees. The thick wooden frame creaked as it moved slowly into position. Under the direction of each trebuchet commander they made small adjustments to the angl
e and position so they could improve the aim and cause the maximum amount of damage to the approaching army. The operating teams then began pulling the throwing arm down towards the ground, each pull becoming harder and tighter until the wooden arm began to bend under the tension. Once it was low enough it was latched into position and a large boulder placed in the leather sling pouch ready to be dispatched at King Conroy’s command.
Lord Kullwrath for the dwarfs, Lord Claydem for the ground dwellers and even King Bayard for the horsemen joined King Conroy and Prince Chiron at the centre of the army, old rivalries and unimportant squabbles put aside to present a unified and strong alliance for their soldiers. King Conroy rode his pure white horse along the front row of centaurs.
‘This morning,’ he shouted to the soldiers in front of him. ‘This morning brings not only the dawning of a new day, but also the dawning of a new era. This morning is not like any other. This will be known as the first morning of the rest of our lives.’ A cheer rippled along the long line of soldiers; some held their swords in the air in support of the king’s words. King Conroy rode his horse further down the line so that as many of the assorted soldiers could see him as possible. ‘You all deserve a life that is free from fear,’ another cheer, ‘a life where our lands are not taken through greed,’ a louder cheer and mutterings of agreement, ‘a life where we can all live together as one, accepting our differences.’ King Conroy paused as the soldiers banged their swords against their shields in support. ‘We are stronger when we work together and today we stand together as brothers.’ Some of the soldiers nodded to those they stood next to. King Conroy moved his horse further down the line. ‘What greater honour could any man, dwarf or centaur have than to fight alongside his brother? Fighting in the name of all that is good. Fighting for our wives and children. Fighting for our unborn children. Tomorrow we will return to our families victorious and look upon this as a new day.’ He made his way back up the line towards his position at the heart of the army. ‘But, today,’ he shouted as loud as possible, his sword held high for all to see, ‘we have a job to do. Today we suck the queen’s poison from our wounds and reclaim what is ours. Leave none of her foul beasts and creatures standing; they are unfit to breathe the same air as us. People of the Underworld we now move towards our fate.’ King Conroy lowered his sword and the entire army began moving forward away from the forest and onto the dry lands of the Arenadra Plains. As they moved they struck their shields in time with their marching creating a deafening thud that vibrated across the plains towards the army of the queen.
