Trek to Kraggen-Cor
Page 16
A dead silence fell over the Council as Durek considered the proposal Only the crackle of the fire in the center of the circle broke the quiet Pern felt a great foreboding, as if impending doom were about to strike; for to go into battle surrounded by an entire army is one thing, but to go among the
teeming enemy with only six or seven allies is quite a different prospect. To penetrate Drimmen-deeve would mean passing through miles of lightless caverns infested with swarms of maggot-folk, avoiding detection in a place where a Ruck squad could be lurking around every turn, passing through tunnels with no side passages to bolt into if trapped between groups of Spawn, and travelling along passageways with many side tunnels out of which Rucken forces could issue unexpectedly. Perry had visions of hiding furtively while maggot-folk marched past, and of being lost in a black labyrinth, fleeing hordes of slavering Spawn through an endless maze, and of being trapped facing an evil army of advancing Rucks and Hloks. And these visions made the buccan tremble in fear. But he could also visualize the Dusk-Door swinging open and the Dwarf Army marching through. The thought of passing undetected through the center of the Rucken forces terrified Perry, but he understood the need only too well. The risk was incalculable, but so, too, was the reward.
Shakily, Perry got to his feet and said in a small voice, "King Durek, I will go with Anval and Barak if you approve the plan."
In frustration, Durek slammed his clenched fist into his palm. "Krukf Had we known of the Brega Scroll but six months ere now we could have trained another guide . . nay, many other guides for this thrust! But as it is, we have but one pathfinder where two are needed. Dare I send our only wayleader on a mission of high risk? The reward for success may be victory, but the penalty for failure may be defeat. Oh, had I but another guide for my Army, then we would take this gamble for victory."
Again the silence stretched out, drumming on the ears. All were looking with downcast eyes at the ground, waiting for Durek to decide. Thus, few saw a small figure stand, but all heard his words: "I know the way I can guide the Army along the Brega Path, even though it means I'll be separated from my master." And Perry looked up in astonishment, for the speaker was Cotton/
CHAPTER 13
THE STAVES OF NAROK
"Cotton!" exclaimed Pern, "Wha— Are vou saving that you know the Brega Path?"
"Yes Sir," declared Cotton, "I memorized it when we were checking all those copies of the Brega Scroll you made for the Ravenbook Scholars. Riddle and reason, Mister Perry' After all, we did go over even- one of them time after time til my eyes were falling out. Anybody would have learned the Brega Path if he had done what we did."
"Why, that's true, Cotton!" exclaimed Perry. "Oh, dunce that I am. I should have known that you, too, had learned the path by heart."
"Oh, Sir, you're not a dunce," asserted Cotton. "I would have told you earlier, but, you see, before the Council met, I just didn't think it was important. But after Anval told us his plan, well, I knew then that it was a matter of life and death; but there was my promise to your Miss Holly to think about: 'Goodbye, Cotton,' she said. 'Now you stay by Mister Percy, and take care of him, and keep him safe.' And I nodded yes, and that's a promise. I had to think of whether she'd ask me to keep it or not, knowing, as it were, how desperately these Folk need our help. And the only way we can give that help is for us to separate. I know Miss Holly would not hold me to a promise made in ignorance.
"Oh, Sir, I don't want to go away from you, but one of us must stay with Durek's Army—though that could be you as well as me. What I mean, Sir. is. well, you could guide the Army and let me go with them as is headed to the inside of the doors." Cotton hoped that Pern would accept the offer, for Cotton was thinking, That will be a perilous trip, and I did promise Holly to keep him safe.
"Cotton, I thank you for the offer, but still I think it is mine to do. Besides, those who go through the caverns to the inside of the doors will travel the path backwards. That means the guide must be able to follow the Brega Scroll instructions in reverse: even 'up' will become a 'down.' cen 'left' will then be a 'right,' every 'split' will become a *ioin,' and so on I've
thought about it, and I am certain that still I can guide the penetrators— even though it is backwards on the Brega Path—for going backwards through the instructions with my mind is almost as easy as going forwards, even though I have to turn lefts into rights and make the other changes too." Perry looked searchingly at Cotton. "Knowing that everything will be all turned around in reverse, do you think you could guide the squad to the doors?"
Cotton appeared surprised. "I never thought of that, Mister Perry, but you are as right as rain: everything will be all backwards for them going through to the inside." Cotton then paused in inward concentration: he closed his emerald-green eyes, and a frown of intense effort crossed his countenance. After a short while, "Plague and pox!" he exclaimed, nettled, "this is worse even than trying to say the alphabet backwards after an ale night at the One-Eyed Crow! Seems like I have to start at the front most of the time and run to the place I want before I can back it up. Going forwards is easy. Going backwards is hard."
"Well, that settles it then," declared Perry. "If Durek chooses this course then I will go with the squad, and you will go with the Army."
Durek and the Council had heard all that Perry and Cotton had said, and a murmur rippled throughout the circle. Durek held up his hand for silence. "Friend Cotton, that you are certain the steps of the Brega Path are carved upon the tablets of your mind, I do not doubt, for you have been named Chak-sol. Even so, I cannot gamble the fate of mine Host upon skills untested—"
"Here begins the journey at the Dusken Door," interrupted Cotton, picking up one of the copies of the Brega Scroll and handing it to Durek. When the Dwarf King found the place, Cotton took a chin-up, chest-out, hands-behind-the-back, school-recitation stance and continued: "Two hundred steps up the broad stair; one and twenty and seven hundred level paces in the main passage 'round right ..." And as Cotton recited from memory the words on the Scroll, Perry followed along in the mirror of his own mind while the Captains of the Council waited expectantly.
"... then it's two hundred forty level paces across the hall and out the Daun Gate to freedom." Cotton sat back down and for the first time looked at Mister Perry; and a great beaming smile was spread upon Perry's face.
Durek set the Brega Scroll aside and said simply, "We have our guide." And a rumble of approval rose up from the seated Captains as Cotton flushed in pleased embarrassment.
When silence fell, Durek turned to Anval Ironfist: "Yours is a perilous scheme for those who attempt it, but our need is dire and your plan worthy. The force must be kept small to avoid detection, yet large enough to include all the skills needed to reach the far doors and to repair the arcane hinges, if they are broken. This squad I must choose wisely, for success depends upon
having the right skill at the right time." And Durek fell silent, thinking upon the problems likely to be faced.
"King Durek," said Kian, "first the force must reach Dawn-Gate. For that task a guide is needed who knows the way from here to the Pitch and thence to the east portal, a guide who is wise in the ways of woodcraftmess—to slip by Yrm parties —and one who is wise in the way of weaponry in the event of mischance and discovery. I am that guide." And Durek nodded his acceptance.
Bonn stood, in the caverns the squad will need speed and stealth, yet also strength and fury should the force be discovered fighters to hold the way while others reach the doors and repairs are made; fighters to mislead the thieving Grg should the need anse. Warriors are wanted in this task, for which I propose myself and Anval." Durek again nodded his acceptance, for the Ironfists were the greatest of all his champions.
Red-bearded Barak spoke: 'The doors of the west are known only in legend to me, yet 1 believe 1 can divine the way of their working Two door-crafters may be needed if repair is required, but in this I ask that three be sent, for one may be slain For this task I propose myse
lf and Delk and Tobin." Two other Dwarves stood in the Council circle: Delk Steelshank, brown-bearded and black-eyed, stern-visaged and strong-bodied; and Tobm Forgehre, fair beard and hair, smooth-faced, blue-eyed, slender for a Dwarf
"And thus the Squad of Kraggen-cor is chosen," proclaimed Durek in his gravelly voice. "Seven strong: Barak, Delk, Tobin, Anval, and Bonn, and their guides and advisors: under the sky, Pnnce Kian, and in the caverns, Friend Perry. May success go with you."
Then Durek took his axe by the haft at the blade and smote the earth with the butt of the handle and cried, "Shok Chdkka amonu! (The axes of the Dwarves are with you!) " and all the Council of Captains took then their axes and together struck the haft butts hard to the ground and called out, Shok Chdkka amonu! And the shout rang through the forest and across the nver and beyond; and everywhere that Dwarf warriors of the encamped Army heard it, they knew that some of their comrades faced a gnm mission
Durek then spoke to his Captains: "Gather your warriors on the morrow and teD them what has passed here in the Council tonight Tomorrow, one hour after sunrise, the Chief Captains are to return here for the detailed march planning." With that he dismissed the Council The Dwarf King then summoned a scribe and gave over Pern's map with instructions to gather other scribes and make enough duplicates for the Chief Captains And finally he turned to the Waerans and invited them to sup with him, and the three of them headed for the yellow waggon serving the Captains a late meal
"BegghV your pardon. King Durek." said Cotton as they sat on a log under the stars and ate by the light of the still-burning Council fire, "but jotf how are we going to get to this Dusk-Door 7 "
"Prince Rand tells me that after we cross over the Crestan Pass we will follow the Old Rell Way down from Arden along the west side of the Grimwall Mountains; it will take us to the Quadran and the Door," answered Durek, licking hot gravy from his fingers. "I am told that the Old Way is grown over and gone in many places, and all that remains are ancient pathways—sometimes wide, sometimes narrow. In places some of the old stonework even yet can be seen. The trek at times will be swift, and at other times slow, the wains holding us back. But in all, with no delays we could arrive at tlie western doors in a fortnight and four days, it being nearly sixty and one hundred leagues distant by that route. But we must start soon—tomorrow or the next day—for it is already the second of November, and the high snows are due to fly; we must be over the Crestan Pass ere that occurs."
'The second of November?" mused Perry. "Why, yes, it is already that date. I had forgotten. Today is the anniversary of when Tuck became a Thornwalker. And the ninth will be the anniversary of when Tuck and the others set out from Woody Hollow to join the Eastdell Fourth on Beyonder Guard and Wolf Patrol. The folks back home are probably angry at us, Cotton, for we have taken the Horn of the Reach with us, and they-won't be able to sound it a week from now at dawn at the Commons to celebrate the beginning of what turned out to be Modru's downfall."
"Well, Sir, I'll just give it a toot right here and now, and that'll just have to do." And Cotton set his mess kit aside and jumped up and ran to his pack and pulled out the silver horn.
"Wait!" cried Perry. "Remember Anval's warning. He said to blow it only at dire need."
"Narok/" hissed Durek, and his face blenched at the sight of the trumpet. "Aie! The Ironfists told me that you had borne this token into our midst. And now I see that they spoke true. It is the harbinger of Narok. "
"That's what Borin said: 'Narok. 'Then he closed up tighter than a clam!" exclaimed Cotton, carrying the horn back to the log. "What in the world does Narok mean, anyhow?"
Durek lc tked long at Perry and Cotton and the bugle. Then he set his own mess kit down and spoke, for the Warrows had each been named Dwarf-Friend:
"Narok. I do not know what it apprehends, but it is terrible." Durek paused, and a chill ran down Perry's spine. The Dwarf continued: "The word 'Narok' itself means 'Death-War.' But the legend of Narok is an enigma handed down from the time of First Durek. It was he who brought the silver horn to the Chakka, having crafted it himself, or mayhap he received it from some unknown crafter—we know not the which of it. It bears the unmistakable stamp of being Chak-made, yet its creator we do not know.
"Even in those elden days the horn was an object of fear, and was sent north to be hidden away forever. And it was shut away in a secret trove for thousands of years. But it was lost to the Dwarves when Sleeth the Orm—
great Dragon of the Gronfang Mountains—came to the Chakkaholt of Blackstone under the Rigga Mountains, slaying Chakka and taking their home for his lair and their treasure for his hoard.
"When Sleeth at last was slain and we heard not that the horn was recovered, we thought mayhap it was gone forever, perchance having been unmade by the Dragon spew, or even destroyed in the fire of Black Kalgalath's ruin. And we rejoiced! But we knew not for certain; thus we feared it still, for its Doom is dreadful, though we know not its meaning."
"Doom? It has a Doom upon it?" asked Perry. "Why, we have sounded it many, many times without harm. Doom? I say nay! For oft times it rallied the Boskydells in time of great need. It is not doomed; it is blessed. And were you to hear its clarion call, you would know of its power."
"That it has power, I have no doubt. And others may sound it without hurt, for its Doom is not for them," answered Durek. "Chakka alone must face its destiny—though when, I cannot foretell."
"We knew it had something to do with Dwarves," interjected Cotton, holding the horn in the firelight so that Durek could see the riders and runes. "These riders are Dwarves, yet Dwarves don't ride horses, if you catch my meaning."
"I had not seen the horn til now, yet I have known always the detail of its semblance. It is because of this horn, and the legend, that Dwarves do not ride horses," answered Durek.
"But Brega, Bekki's son, rode horseback," said Perry. "The Raven Book tells how he rode double with Gildor the Elf on the horse Fleetfoot, a steed of Arden—why, to the very doors of Drimmen-deeve, they rode. And later, Brega rode other horses, though he seemed to fear them: to Gunarring Gap, to Gron, to Arden. So says 77ie Raven Book."
"Brega was not afraid of horses," responded Durek. "He only feared the consequences of a Chak riding a horse, perhaps fulfilling a prophecy that would lead to the Death-War. Yet, in his time the need was great, for the world was coming to an end—impelled by the Enemy in Gron—and had Brega not been borne by steeds into battle the outcome may have been different, and that is why he rode.
"Even so, the Chakka on horses graven on this horn are known to all of Durek's Folk. And because of the legend we do not ride horses in hope that the Doom of Narok will not fall. Though we know not its meaning, we fear it."
"What is the legend? What do these runes of power mean?" asked Perry, shaken by the dread in Durek's look.
Durek paused, collecting his thoughts; then he spoke: "Translated, the runes say:
"Answer to The Silver Call.
"That is but half of one couplet from the Rime of Narok, an ancient foretoken of the Doom from the age of First Durek. The complete rime is:
"Trump shall blow, Ground will pound As Dwarves on horses Riding 'round.
"Stone shall rumble, Mountain tremble. In the battle Dwarves assemble.
"Answer to The Silver Call. Death shall deem The vault to fall.
"Many perish, Death the Master. Dwarves shall mourn Forever after.
'These staves are known to all of Durek's Folk. They foretell a great sorrow to befall. Whence came these stanzas, none knows—perhaps from the crafter of the horn. And yet, the words of the staves do not rime in Chakur, only in Common. And its rhythm is strange to my ear; were this verse Chakka-written, it would have a different beat. Hence, we deem the crafter of this rime to be of a race other than my Folk. Horn and verse, they are a mystery. And though the stanza has been known and argued for ages, we are no closer to knowing the Doom than when the horn was first seen by Eld Durek. But we do know that the trump of the ode is the
silver trumpet Friend Cotton holds. And we do not ride horses because of the rime and because of the graven images on the bugle. Aye, we believe that this small, silver horn will signal the Death-War— Narok —and I deem it bodes ill that it has come to us at this time."
Cotton looked at the bugle as if it were an alien thing. Always he had known that during the Winter War this trumpet had helped save the Bosky, and he believed that it was an instrument of good. Yet to the Dwarves it was a feared token of doom, foretelling of some great sorrow to come. They had rejoiced when it was lost with Sleeth, but now it was come among them again, to haunt them and to threaten their future.
Perry and Cotton and Durek sat in the flickering firelight and said nothing, each plunged deep in his own thoughts. Overhead the bright stars scintillated in black skies and wheeled through the heavens: remote, glittering,
silent. At last Perry stood and took up the horn and spoke: "King Durek, we know not how to aid you against the ominous prophecy, for we know not its meaning either. But if possession of the horn will help you, then here, it is yours." And he held out the silver trumpet to Durek.
But Durek shook his head and said, "Nay. I do not want it. Though you offer me this thing in compassion for our unknown fate, I must refuse, for we are safer with it in hands other than our own."
And as he spoke Durek raised his hand to push the gift away. But at the very instant that his fingers touched the cold, silver metal, an awful portent befell! The skies aloft blazed with hundreds upon hundreds of incandescent, fiery shooting stars, streaking upon golden tails across the startled heavens. Their very numbers seemed uncountable as blaze after blaze sped to its doom. The coruscating barrage silently flared directly overhead and the land was illumed brightly as legions of burning points swept across the firmament to score the vault above.