The Last Thane cw-1

by Douglas Niles

  "Patience, my friend," Baker Whitegranite said quietly, laying his hand on the agitated dwarf's sturdy shoulder. The thane blinked, trying to focus his blurred vision on the face of his fellow Hylar.

  "But what if she's up there-if she needs me?" demanded the venerable warrior. "Damn it all, we've got to keep moving!"

  "I know. I'm worried too. I have a son somewhere in this mess," Baker said quietly.

  "I'm sorry. You're right," said Axel in sudden chagrin.

  Before Baker could reply, the scream of straining metal rose to a shriek around them as the lift jolted free, once more rumbling upward toward the darkness of Level Six. Capper Whetstone and the rest of the thane's bodyguards looked relieved. The loyal Hylar had been most uncomfortable when their leader insisted on being on the last transport lift leaving Level Five.

  The respite lasted only a few seconds, however. Once again the cage screeched to a halt, pinned in the girders that had been gradually twisted by the wrenching forces of Chaos.

  Apparently drained, Axel slumped onto a bench in the corner of the cage. He looked at Baker, his expression pleading, and the thane was deeply moved upon seeing the defeat and deep furrows of age so clearly etched into his friend's face.

  "And how do we know she's alive?" Axel asked for the tenth time. "She could have been killed by Daergar or buried in a landslide. We'd still remember her. It's only the shadow-wights that sap the memory!"

  Baker had already acknowledged these suppositions, but he refused to give in to despair. "We don't know she's dead, and until we do I'm going to believe she's still fighting somewhere, still down there-perhaps fighting a rearguard action or trying to move her company up higher into the Life-Tree."

  He didn't speak further, but in the dark silence both of them keenly relived the frantic scene below. They had taken stairs down to Level Four in order to seek information on the enemy advance. In the stairwell they had met panicked survivors who had been racing upward. They had reported that Level Four had been overrun before they fled. Those survivors, some of whom were now huddled on the lift with them, had told of the fire dragon bursting onto the level and moving swiftly through the streets of smiths and forges, setting fires that seemed to burn the very stone itself. That flaming monster had eventually disappeared, but the survivors believed it was boring a hole farther upward, extending the assault route toward Level Five and beyond.

  Even worse, the dragon's onslaught had been followed by hundreds upon hundreds of Daergar who had charged through the tunnel that the fiery serpent had left behind in the rock. This was the first clear sign that the dark dwarves and Chaos creatures were now working together. Both Baker and Axel understood how hopeless that alliance made the Hylar's chances of a successful defense.

  Then, as the thane and his party had reached Level Five, the attack had begun anew. The fire dragon and its black rider had torn through an entire quarter of what had once been the finest silver smithies on all Krynn. The few Hylar remaining here had either died in flames and ash or fled in panic from the horrific wave of destruction.

  And there had been another beast as well. Though Baker's guards had shuttled him away at its first appearance, he had a fleeting glimpse of a massive, skeletal body. His weak vision had not provided much detail, though he was forced to wonder if perhaps that was not a slight blessing. Like the fire dragon, this vision of undeath had stormed through the streets and alleys of Hybardin, feasting and slaying with frenzied abandon. Baker had cringed at the noises of the doomed and dying.

  All the dwarves could do was fall back to the lift station on Level Five with as much haste as they could manage. Even Axel, despite his bad foot, had made the trip rapidly without flagging. But now, as they tried to ride the cage up to the next level, Baker was forced to wonder what they could really hope to accomplish if Chaos beasts were aligned with the enemy clans.

  One passenger had gone over to the corner of the cage. This young, muscular Hylar leaned far over the rail to get a look at the support mechanism above them. Despite his youth, he had an air of competence that Baker found somehow heartening.

  "Let's all shift our weight over here," suggested the young dwarf. He had a small hammer, and he chinked it against the girder of the lift track. "We might be able to rock it free."

  "Do you know anything about how the lift functions?" demanded another Hylar skeptically. "How do we know you won't break us loose and send the whole thing falling down there?"

  The young Hylar spoke to Baker instead of replying to the questioner. "I'm an engineer, my lord thane. I was a journeyman of some years and was being trained in lift repairs before…" He couldn't finish the sentence, but Baker could see the skill and determination shining in his eyes.

  "Good man, let's follow your idea. Everyone, obey him!"

  Smiling thankfully, the young Hylar began giving instructions. "Everyone get into this corner. Now jump, on my count… now."

  The passengers did as the Hylar engineer suggested, jumping up and down in a coordinated effort to break the cage free. The lift lurched slightly with a shriek of protesting metal.

  "Now again. And again!" urged the young mechanic, as the passengers continued their efforts.

  A heavy rumble shook the cage and girders violently. From somewhere down below Baker heard crashing noises accompanied by screams of pain.

  "Look!" cried the engineer, his voice rising with fear.

  All of them saw the crack, a deep, horizontal gouge in the rock wall of the transport shaft. Before Baker's horrified eyes it spread, growing wider and wider. He saw the metal rails that guided the lift bend and twist from the force of great weight, and it seemed clear to him that the cage was now firmly wedged in a vise of steel.

  "Trouble down below!" grunted Capper Whetstone in sudden alarm.

  A few of the passengers moaned as they looked down through the screen mesh of the cage floor. Baker's own blood froze in his veins as he saw a dozen or more of the ink-black shadows creeping stealthily up the walls of the shaft, drawing steadily closer to the cage of the lift.

  "We're trapped!" screamed one battered dwarf.

  "By Reorx, at least we can die fighting!" Axel declared bravely, but his eyes were hollows of grief.

  "No!" Baker's voice cut through the panic like a sharp blade. "We're not finished yet. If we're going to die fighting, it won't be here!"

  He paused, aware of all the blurred faces staring at him expectantly, and realized that his voice, his words, could give these people hope. And with hope, one or more of them might survive to carry on the fight.

  "I am the thane of the Hylar!" he barked. "And I say we must escape and survive. Our hope is to climb higher. Keep climbing!"

  "Quick! Out the top!" Axel cried, pointing to the trapdoor on the upper side of the cage. He pushed it open with the tip of his broadsword and pointed to the ladder that led to that point of egress. He addressed the two dozen terrified Hylar in the lift, pulling one matron bodily toward the hole. "Climb! Climb for all you're worth!"

  One by one the passengers scrambled up the ladder and through the trapdoor. Some climbed with ease, while others, wounded or paralyzed with fear, needed to be helped.

  "My thane, it's your turn. You must escape!" Capper urged, taking Baker by the arm.

  "No! Not yet!" insisted the leader of the Hylar. Baker clutched his small sword, determined to set an example. He was sick and tired of flight, of running here and there and everywhere else in a frantic effort to stay alive.

  He had work to do right here.

  He gestured to his enchanted weapon, to the blades borne by the guards, and to Axel's ancient broadsword. "Our weapons have the best chance against these things. Let's stay back until all the others are safe and give these weapons a try!"

  "But you can't even see very well!" stammered Axel, lending his voice in support of Capper Whetstone.

  "I can see well enough when they're right in front of me!" retorted the thane. "Incidentally, how close are they?"

  Axel g
rowled in exasperation, but gave up on trying to get Baker to climb to safety. "Twoscore feet, closing fast."

  The last of the Hylar scooted up to the trapdoor as the two old dwarves stood with drawn blades beside Capper Whetstone and a few volunteers from the royal bodyguard as they waited for the onslaught. The dark shapes shifted, and Baker found himself looking at sharply focused images from his own nightmares. Indeed, one of the shades resembled his former wife, wickedly grinning at him, taunting and jeering.

  But this image was tightly focused, unblurred, and in a flash of insight Baker understood that without his glasses he couldn't really see such a thing. It was entirely in his mind! He laughed out loud as he stabbed at the nightmare that no longer had the power to frighten him. He felt the silver blade cut through the shadows, and he heard a howling maelstrom somewhere in the distance.

  And the shadow went away. Another stretched forward a tendril of darkness, and that too vanished after a quick jab of his sword. Again and again he stabbed with the blade, shouted curses at the unfeeling shadows, dispatched them one after another. He heard cheers and knew that the other Hylar had escaped, that his leadership had saved them.

  Another rumble shook the mountain, jarring the lift so harshly that Baker thought for a moment perhaps the chain had broken and they were falling. Instead, the latest tremor merely released a shower of pebbles and boulders. Then a bigger quake shook the mountain, and even to the thane's blurred vision the crack in the shaft wall grew wider. With a splitting, grinding noise, the lower part of the transport shaft fell away, leaving the lift cage dangling freely in the air. Massive slabs of rock collapsed, breaking away from the bulk of the Life-Tree to tumble below onto the remains of the waterfront.

  Baker looked up, seeing the lowest rungs of the ladder still secured to the side of the upper transport shaft.

  "This cage isn't going anywhere," said the young engineer who had stayed behind. "That last rockfall pinched it in here like cement."

  "Come, my thane," urged Capper Whetstone. "It's time for us to get out of here."

  And Baker Whitegranite climbed with strength, knowing that the hopes of the Hylar climbed with him.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chaos Falling

  For long minutes Tarn lay on the smooth rock of the shore, struggling to draw air through the raw, constricted passage of his throat. He knew he was in dangerous surroundings. But even if a company of dark dwarves had come along screaming for his blood, the half-breed would have been unable to so much as look for a hiding place. The lingering horror of his immersion in water-the nearness of death-had drained him. The fight to survive had utterly exhausted him. And even when he found the strength to lift his head, there was nothing within his range of sight to encourage him.

  Around him the gully dwarves chattered and explored, though there was an uncharacteristic hush to their voices. Regal sniffed something, then called some of his comrades to help him move a large boulder. The industrious Aghar toppled the large rock to the side, but after several minutes of rooting around in the muddy crater they trudged glumly back to Tarn.

  "Nuthin!" groused one.

  "No food, not a bite," said another.

  "No beer," Regal added mournfully.

  Finally able to sit up and look around, Tarn tried to get a fix on their surroundings. He was startled to realize he was totally lost. Though he knew the Hybardin waterfront like he knew the hilt of his sword, he was now unable to recognize a single landmark. A pile of broken rock rose like a mountain before him, and to either side he saw a splintered wreckage of slabs, beams, fabric, and other debris. Looking straight up, he could see the bottom of the great stalactite that was the Life-Tree suspended overhead, though whether they could reach it or not was another question entirely. And even so, could they somehow work their way into higher regions of the city? It was inconceivable that the lift still functioned.

  From his low vantage he was able to see enough to make several assumptions with a fair level of confidence. It seemed that all of Level One and Level Two of Hybardin had been buried beneath rockfalls. Obviously the Chaos horde had struck far more savagely here than in Daerforge. It was impossible to imagine that anyone could have lived through such a horrific devastation. Belicia Felixia Slateshoulders had been here, and Tarn faced the reality that she must certainly be dead.

  Despair dragged his head down onto his arms. For a while he lay like a corpse, unthinking, uncaring, aware only of the black wave of hopelessness that swept over him. Very gradually he became conscious of an insistent tugging, something that had him by the elbow and was trying to lift him from the ground.

  "Leave me alone!" he growled.

  "Come on! Look up!" replied a voice that he remembered as Regal's. "We try to get to Hybardin-not stop now!"

  Tarn whirled on the Aghar, his face twisted into a snarl.

  "What Hybardin?" he demanded. "Look around, you imbecile! Can't you see that my city doesn't even exist anymore? Now do what I told you: leave me alone!"

  "No!" insisted Regal, with surprising stubbornness. "You look around! City's up there!" The gully dwarf pointed a blunt finger at the dangling massif overhead. "Let's go see, okay? Kinda boring down here."

  "Not boring no more," noted another little Aghar, who was squatting just above. The fellow pointed to the side. "Here come some guys."

  Fighting through his despair, Tarn wriggled around to follow the direction of the second gully dwarf's stare. His heart pounded at the sight of several dozen Daergar poking through the rubble along the shore of the lake. They were a long way away, but coming in his direction.

  Instantly the half-breed's malaise vanished as he realized that the gully dwarves, who had risked so much to get him here, would be easy prey for the villainous dark dwarves. Cursing his selfish melancholy, he looked around for some avenue of escape. Immediately he saw a large, flat slab of rock tilted up against the steep slope of the rubble.

  "Get behind that!" Tarn whispered urgently. "Stay low and quiet!"

  He realized that his latter commands were superfluous as the Aghar once again demonstrated their natural instincts for stealth. The score or so of his shipmates were already out of sight as Tarn crawled behind them into the low shelter, fairly certain that the Daergar patrol had not spotted them.

  "Now climb!" he urged. "Get as high as you can!"

  The makeshift wall served as good cover, and Tarn found that he could stand upright behind it and crawl upward towards the top of a rubble-strewn slope. For minutes there was no sound except for the gasping and panting of scrambling dwarves. The incline was very steep, and in many places Tarn and the Aghar had to pull themselves up with their hands and scramble on their knees to negotiate the grade. As they climbed still higher, Tarn was able to see great companies of dark dwarves marching up a neighboring mound of stone. Groups of shadowy creatures visible just beyond. It did not seem to the half-breed as though the Chaos creatures were menacing the Daergar and Theiwar formations. Indeed, he saw with despair that the two forces were actually advancing in concert.

  "Look, there!" hissed Regal.

  Tarn witnessed the black daemon straddling its fiery mount as the dragon spread its wings and flared into the air. The half-breed watched in fascination as the monster flew directly into the side of the overhanging rock, boring a hole right into the bedrock.

  "Let's keep going," Tarn said. "And try to stay out of sight!"

  For once the infamously curious gully dwarves agreed with his warning, and the party continued its surreptitious climb.

  By now the half-breed could see that this pile of rubble ended dozens of feet below the overhanging terminus of the Life-Tree. From the top they were high enough to see that the whole lower reach of Hybardin was nothing more than a wasteland. Everywhere the ruins were crowded with dark dwarves and Chaos shadows. In one place Tarn saw a great column of enemy dwarves moving into the wide tunnel the fire dragon had excavated on the bottom of the Life-Tree. He caught a glimpse of a bronze helm a
t the head of the file of black armor.

  Looking around, Tarn saw that more of the dark dwarf companies were spreading out along the waterline. They were poking and probing through the rubble, undoubtedly searching for survivors or treasure. Once more he turned his attention above and saw a gaping black hole in the underside of smooth rock, perhaps thirty feet overhead. Probably that was the remains of some transport shaft to Level Three, but there was simply no way to reach it-even from the highest pinnacle of rock on their little summit.

  "Look! Now they comin' up our hill!" snorted a gully dwarf indignantly.

  Tarn saw that the Daergar had spotted them and at least a hundred of the dark dwarves were beginning to converge at the base of the mound. The Daergar took their time, spreading out to form a ring around the conical hill. Then they began a slow and methodical climb toward the dwarves trapped at the summit.

  "What we do now?" wondered Regal, with what Tarn thought was an impressive lack of panic in his voice.

  "We can start by rolling rocks down on them," the half-breed said, "while I try to think of something a little more long-term."

  The Aghar pitched into this new game with enthusiasm, and soon great chunks of jagged stone were bouncing, rolling, and ricocheting down the steep slope. Several of these hit individual Daergar, and the overall effect was a dramatic slow down of the climbers. But Tarn could see that their position would become hopeless within a few minutes.

  "Gotta big one!" cried Regal, as several of his mates helped him to tumble a great boulder down the slope. While the Aghar shrieked and jeered, cursing dark dwarves scrambled to the sides to get out of the way of the deadly missile. A few of them were too slow, but that only seemed to solidify the grim purpose of the survivors as they once again resumed their implacable ascent.

  "Psst! Tarn! Up here!"

  At first the half-breed attributed the words to his fevered imagination, for it sounded exactly like the voice of his Belicia Felixia.

  "Tarn!"