Trek to Kraggen-Cor

by McKiernan, Dennis L. , 1932-

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  In the dusk, the waggon stopped in a thick pine forest—the last of the timberfme—and the comrades made camp on this e i gh t ee nth day of their

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  The next morning came, and the compamons were awakened by Cotton to find it stJ dark; they were e nv/ i a pped in a dense, cold mist and could not see more than a few feet "1 don't know whether it's a fog that's climbed up from the bottom or a cloud that's shd down from the top," said Cotton, "but it's thick enough to cut doors and wmdows into, and maybe if we carved on it a bit we would let in some light It's soU dark, though f know it's time to be up and gone."

  "It's dark beca u se the Sun is rising on the other side of the mountain and we are standing in its shadow," said Lord Kian "And this myrk makes it doubly dark Let us hope it gets no thicker—the way is hard enough as it is

  without adding fog. There are many places ahead to go wrong—blind canyons, false trails, sudden precipices, blank walls, and such—and a cloaking mist we do not need. The way is before us, but I think I will not, cannot, find it til this shroud is gone."

  "You forget, Lord Kian, you are with Chakka," spoke Borin Ironfist in rough pride, running his fingers through his black locks, unevenly combing out the sleep tangles, "and we trod this path on foot before—though backwards—on our way to fetch Perry. The fog is no obstacle. Were it pitch black, still could we go on, back the way we first came over this Mountain. Anval or I will lead this day til the way clears—by your leave."

  "Your pardon, friend Borin"—Kian smiled—"I did indeed forget the Dwarf talent. It is new to me and wondrous. Lead on, my fellow wayfinder; here it is I who shall follow."

  The road grew steep and narrow, with a sheer drop on one side and a towering wall on the other. The Warrows discovered that they and all of the party—except Anval, who drove the wain and worked the brakes—had to walk ahead of the waggon, leading the horses, for the way at times was so narrow that it was safer outside the waggon than in; further, by walking up the incline, thus lessening the load, they spared the steeds.

  Slowly they made their way upward, stopping often to rest. Yet they moved surely through the fog, Borin leading, striding purposefully forward with his walking stave clicking against the stone path, confidently guiding the fellowship past hazards and false paths and up toward the notch of the Crestan Pass. The Warrows did not realize how sheer and far the drop-off beside the road fell until the midmorning Sun began to burn away the cold mist; shortly they could see, and soon the buccen were walking next to the wall as far away from the precipice as they could manage. And though the Sun had finally pierced the icy fog, the day had gotten colder, for now the comrades were up high on the mountain in the thin air; and they all donned extra wear.

  It was in the midmorn that they stopped in a wide spot, and Kian instructed all the companions to take their backpacks and bedrolls from the waggon and strap them on. "We are coming to a dangerous part," explained the young Man, looking with keen grey eyes at the slopes above, "where the smallest sound of the wrong sort can start a rock slide or a snow avalanche. If that happens, the waggon may be swept away with all in it. If we survive, with our packs we can proceed onward to the Landover Road Ford with few problems; without them, the trip would be much harder; bear your burden with that thought in mind—though it won't make the knapsack lighter, it will ease the load." He turned to the Warrows. "From here you are to make as little sound as possible. Speak if you must only in a whisper. When we reach the other side and start down, most of the danger will be past. Til then, silence is the rule. Have you any questions? Speak now, it's your final chance."

  "Do you mean to tell me that sounds can cause snow or rocks to fall?"

  asked Cotton, peering at the solid stone wall of the mountainside with some skepticism. "Begging your pardon, but that sounds like Word from the Beyond, if you want my opinion." Cotton, like most Boskydell Warrows, had always looked at news from outside the Seven Dells as being peculiar and suspect; thus, the saying Word from the Beyond indicated something which may or may not be true—something hard to accept until proven.

  "Aye, Waeran," answered Anval before others could speak. "But the rock or snow does not fall for just any sound. It must be the right sound. Did you ever see and hear a wineglass sing when someone nearby struck a note on a lute, or horn, or violin, or other musical instrument? Aye, I see you have. You can feel the glass ring in response to the note. Yet other notes do not seem to affect it. It must be the right sound, the right pitch, or nothing happens: the wineglass sits there without answering. And it is not only wineglasses that jing: some sounds cause windows to rattle, others make picture frames tilt, or dishes to clatter, pots and pans to clang, and hundreds of other things to tap and drum and jump around. We Chakka believe that each thing in this world will shake or rattle or fall or even shatter apart if just the right note is sounded on the right instrument. And here in the Mountains, where the snow hangs on high and the rocks poise on the slopes, at times, when the conditions are right, certain sounds seem to cause the stone or ice or snow to shiver just as does the wineglass, and the burden can break loose to cause ruin. It must be the right sound, though: a whipcrack or shrill voice or whistle or toot—any one may or may not start the avalanche. It may be something else, like a cough or whinny. The trouble is, we do not know what will start the fall, so we must be silent in all things."

  Tuck and Cotton listened with growing amazement, not only at what was being said but also at who was saying it; for since leaving the 'Thorn-ringed Boskydells, but for a few rare occasions, Anval had been given to speaking only in short, terse sentences. And the Warrows had begun to think that Dwarves were about as loquacious as lumps of iron; and for either Anval or Borin to talk prolongedly had come to be a strange and rare event. The buccen could only believe that Anval thought it was important enough to speak at length so that they would understand the danger. And understand it they now did; the Mastercrafter's discourse had clearly shown them the need for silence, for they had indeed seen wineglasses sing and windows rattle at the sound of a viol or the boom of a drum. Again Cotton eyed the slopes above, this time with respect. "Mum's the word," he whispered and then made a buttoning motion on his lip, and Perry smiled and nodded without speaking.

  Shouldering their packs, Lord Kian, the Warrows, and Borin went on ahead while Anval stayed back and drove the horses well to the rear. His place in line was by far the most dangerous, for the horses could not be instructed that "mum's the word.''

  Slowly they made their way toward the Crestan Pass, a notch through a

  saddle between two peaks of the Grimwall Mountains. They could see the cleft far above them silhouetted by the high morning Sun, whose light streamed through the col to glance off the rises overhead. The slopes were snow-covered, but here and there barren patches revealed a jumble of boulders, slabs, and jagged rocks balanced on the steep mountainsides. Quietly and cautiously they trudged toward the pass, making little or no sound. However, they could hear the horses' hooves calmly clip-clopprng behind them and the waggon wheels grinding iron rims on flat stone. Cotton kept glancing up at the menace looming above them, thinking, Please don't fall. Please don 'f fall on us or the waggon. I won't cough or sneeze, and you won't fall.

  Finally, when the Sun was standing at zenith, they at last reached the brow of the pass, and the rule of silence was over. They ate a meal and rested for a while; the path had been steep and the climb arduous in the thin air—and the pause was most welcomed. Shortly, though, they had to start down; they had to reach the lower slopes before nightfall, for they could not stay up in the peaks after duskingtide: at this time o
f year the dark at these heights was too cruel and bitter; the hard passage had to be made during the Sun of a single day.

  They began their descent down the eastern flanks, continuing to wear their packs and lead the team and light waggon. They had gone but a mile or so when the horses began to shy and skit and pull back, and seemed reluctant to go farther. Kian stopped the party and carefully scanned the upward slopes. "I can see nothing awry," he said, "but steeds are oft wiser than Men. We shall go forth, but in caution."

  Once more they started along the steep, narrow way, walking downward, again on a path caught between stone wall and sheer precipice. To the north and south they could see but little, for the flanks of the mountains on either side of the route blocked the far view; but straight ahead to the east below they could see the Landover Road wending through the foothills and out over a stretch of plains to come at last to the Great Argon River, and run on beyond into the vast Greenhall Forest—Darda Erynian—now bedecked in bright fall foliage, whose far extent faded away beyond the silver haze in the remote distance.

  They had gone another mile and were beginning to think that the skittish animals had perceived some false danger when both Brownie and Downy reared up, whinnying wildly, with nostrils flaring and blowing and eyes rolling til the whites showed in terror; they would have bolted but for Anval's strong arm. Lord Kian quickly stepped back and caught the bit reins to stop the horses from plunging. Cotton felt and heard a low rumbling from above and glanced up and saw the mountain move, its side sliding toward them. "Look!" he yelled and pointed, but the others had already seen the danger.

  "There ahead! To the wall!" shouted Borin, leaping forward, racing toward a place where the looming mountainside partially overhung the path, provid-

  ing shelter of a sort. As thick slabs and huge boulders and rocks large and small bounded and leapt and slid in a mighty avalanche toward them, the comrades ran for the concavity, with Anval driving and working the waggon brake and Kian, a bit strap in each hand, desperately pulling the rearing, plunging horses toward the cove. Even then all were being pelted by the small, round stones forerunning the vast slide, and at the last instant they lunged into shelter, Anval grabbing up his axe and pack and wildly leaping from the waggon and into the shallow depression just as a grey wall of rock sheeted down over the edge.

  The ground shook and rumbled as pebbles and boulders alike cascaded down, so thick as to blot out the light, so close as to reach out and touch, racing with a speed that made them leap off the lip above and arch out over the path, some stones not striking the roadway at all in their rush to the depths below. But amid the thunder and roar, one great, thick, flat slab slowly slid down and momentarily teetered on the rim above. "Look out!" cried Perry, pointing at the giant mass, and they crowded back as far as they could.

  The immense slab slowly toppled over the edge above and fell with a thunderous crash to crush the red waggon where it stood beyond the protection of the overhang; the great slab landed half on, half off the path, and slowly tilted on the edge of the precipice and began sliding over the brink, dragging the demolished waggon under it and hauling the steeds backward against their will, pulling them toward their doom. Borin leapt forward to add his strength to Anval's and Kian's to help the horses pull against the terrible weight slowly drawing them unto Death. The frightened animals at first lunged and lurched in terror at being dragged hindward, but then settled down to a hard, straining, steady pull when Cotton jumped forward and took the bit straps in hand. Perry, too, grabbed a hold and hauled with all his might along with the rest.

  Tons of stone thundered past as the desperate struggle for life went on; but the giant weight gradually drew them all toward the rim; they were unable to check its ponderous drag. It seemed to pause, poised for a final plunge to carry the valiant steeds to their death below, when another great boulder slowly rolled over the edge above and dropped with an ear-splitting crack! onto the giant slab and then bounded on down the mountain. The waggon, though already crushed, was unable to stand more and burst asunder, releasing the slab and waggon bed to plunge over the precipice, while with a lurch the horses, Warrows, Dwarves, and Man stumbled forward into the hollow and to safety.

  Cotton stroked the animals to calm them, and spoke to them even though he knew they could not hear him, for rock still thundered past. Finally the earth stopped shaking and shuddering as the slide slowly tailed off, trickling to an end with a few pebbles and an occasional rock rattling over the lip to fall below.

  An immense silence beat upon their ears as they waited to see if the avalanche was truly ended. At last Borin stepped cautiously out, his boots scrutching loudly in the still. He eyed the mountain above. "It is now safe, I deem."

  Slowly the others came out for a look. Perry walked through the talus to the edge of the path and carefully looked down to see where the vast quantity of stone had gone. Though he looked long, searching both down the precipice and mountain flanks below and up the slopes above, except for the rubble on the roadbed he could see no signs of the slide nor even of its passage; though to the companions the avalanche had been a momentous, desperate, life-or-death struggle, the great mountain had swallowed it up as if it were an unimportant event of minor consequence. Shaking his head in disbelief, Perry joined the others to help remove the waggon tongue from the horses' harness; it had been the only part of the wain to survive. They leaned the tongue against the mountain wall so that some passing waggoneer might salvage the beam and the whiffletrees, and then the comrades set forth once more.

  "Where do slides come from?" quietly asked Perry as they continued on down. "I mean, well, the mountain has been here since the birth of Mithgar, ages and ages agone. It seems that all of the loose rock would have slid off by now."

  Borin looked first at Anval then answered, his voice muted: 'The Mountains were here when the Chakka came, and they will be here when we are gone, but even the Mountains themselves grow old and die. The water from rain and melting snows seeps into the clefts and crevices; and when it freezes and turns into ice it splits the stone, delving it as surely as if it were Chak pick shattering it asunder. Over the years great quantities of rock are broken loose, and ultimately some sound or earth shudder causes it to slide to the margins below, and the Mountain is diminished with each rockfall. Just as we Chakka delve the inner cores of Mountains, so do the actions of the world mine their outer slopes. And it may be that after uncountable ages, even the mightiest of Mountains will be humbled by this stone cracking to become but a lowly foothill—though neither Man, Waeran, nor Chak will exist on Mitheor long enough to see that come to pass."

  Perry felt privileged to be trusted with this glimpse of Dwarf lore from the Mastercrafter. The buccan knew that what Borin had revealed was true, and he looked at the mountain and was stunned with the knowledge that such a great towering peak would someday become just a tall hill, like Beacontor— and he was awed by the thought that Beacontor itself might once have been a towering peak when the world was young. And the incredible scale of time involved overwhelmed him—why, all of recorded history was but a moment when compared to the span of a mountain.

  The companions walked downward all that afternoon and were well below the timberline when it came time to make camp. It had gotten dark early, for

  the Sun was setting on the far side of the Grimwall, and they were in its shadow. Their last sight of the way below showed the Landover Road running eastward, waiting for them.

  They set up camp in a thick pine grove, but had nothing to eat and no tea, for all their food had been carried over the edge by the avalanche.

  CHAPTER 11 MARCH TO THE ARGON

  "I don't mind telling you, Mister Perry," said Cotton, leading Downy along the Landover Road, "I sure hope that Lord Kian has some luck with that silver-handled bow of his. I'm so hungry I do believe I could have eaten some of the trees right out of the ground back there in the forest where we camped —or a pine cone or two at least." Anval grunted his agreement, for they all
were ravenous—stomachs rumbling and complaining—having had nothing to eat since the noon meal up in the Crestan Pass; and now it was well into the midmorning of the day after.

  They had arisen just before the Sun, appetites sharp-set, and Lord Kian had put forth a proposal: "I will take Brownie and ride on ahead. Down in the foothills below I'll stop at a likely spot and with my bow I'll try for some game. You follow on foot using Downy as a pack animal; rig the traces to carry our gear. Load everything on the horse except your weapons, we have come to the stage where it is better to become accustomed to going armed. If I leave now, with luck we should break our fast this forenoon."

  In considering his plan, Lord Kian had known that the two Waerlinga had never ridden a full-grown horse, and that for some reason unknown to him the Dwarves would not ride even had they the skill. He had rejected the use of sledge or travois as essentially not being any faster than walking, and some time, though brief, would be lost in the construction. And by setting out now, the rendezvous with Durek could just be made if the pace was kept brisk and no more delays were encountered. He had considered riding on alone to meet Durek at Landover Road Ford to assure him that all was well, with the rest of the comrades arriving on foot later, but he rejected that plan,

  for he knew to make that march without food would be an ordeal for the Waerlinga and the Dwarves.

  Thus the companions settled on the scheme Lord Kian proposed, and he rode off alone with his bow. The others set off down the lower flanks of the mountain at a sharp pace, for as Lord Kian had explained, they had but two days remaining before the assembly sixty miles to the east.

  The \ arrows had discovered upon awakening that their muscles protested mightily at being moved, for their taxing climb up the far side of the mountain followed by the equally strenuous trek down the near side had worked little-used muscles to their limits. As Cotton said, "I'm as sore as a boil about to pop." But as they marched, the ache gradually subsided as the pain worked its way out.