Kelven's Riddle Book Four

by Daniel Hylton

  “Yes, mistress. Kolgar and his people have attacked the valley. Please, come quickly. Where is a safe place?”

  “From the wolves?”

  “No, mistress; from the terrible thing that comes.”

  Confusion and fear fought for supremacy in her mind. “Something else? – other than the wolves?”

  “Yes. It darkens the mind, and it comes quickly. Please, mistress; where is a safe place?” The wolf repeated, his voice growing ever more urgent.

  Cupping her mid-section with her hands, Gorfang's news having finally shocked her fully awake, Ka'en rose to her feet, thinking quickly. “There are rooms and passages beyond the great hall that extend into the mountain and beyond them a passage that goes down into the dark toward the river. Aram showed me once.”

  “Beneath the rock?”

  “Yes,” she replied, “it goes deep into the mountain.”

  Pushing her toward the doorway with his nose, Gorfang moved decisively. “Then we go there, and with haste.”

  “I'll need a torch.”

  “There is no time and I can see for you. The terrible thing draws near.” The old wolf suddenly stiffened, cocking his head toward the window and the unseen sky beyond. Then, abruptly seizing her wrist with his teeth, causing her to cry out in pain, he pulled her out of the room. There was terror in his voice when he spoke again.

  “There are two of the terrible things, mistress, and they are almost upon us. To the dark passages – now!”

  As she stumbled down the street, past the granary and then through the darkness of the great hall, Ka'en heard a fierce commotion arising from the avenue below the city walls. Growls, yelps and harsh cries rose up in a savage chorus. But there was something else, something even more sinister, more frightening than the sounds of the wolf-battle.

  She could not hear it but she could feel it.

  And it was coming.

  It was close.

  Something terrible, alien, hideously oppressive. Like a rapidly approaching storm that overspreads the sky and seems to consume the earth beneath, it grew nearer and nearer. Gaining strength as it approached, the awful dark power of the coming thing overwhelmed her senses, and destroyed her sense of balance. Clutching desperately at the long fur along Gorfang's back for support, she nonetheless fell, sprawling heavily among the tables in the great hall.

  Before she could get to her feet, Gorfang grasped her leg just above her ankle and attempted to drag her into the dark passages beyond.

  “No, Gorfang, no! Help me up!”

  Panic had taken the wolf and he continued to drag her. “Mistress, we must go – they are upon us!”

  “Help me up!” She screamed. Her voice resounded in the dark hall with the strength of her terror, and that snapped the wolf out of his panic.

  Leaping behind her, he pushed his shoulder beneath her arms and strained upward.

  Using the old wolf for support, she got to her feet. The atmosphere seemed near to collapse beneath the weight of whatever it was that came. Her head reeled, nausea arose in her throat. It felt as if the world were being drowned in the coming darkness, that the very air was being compressed, the living rock of the city itself placed under extreme pressure. It felt like the inexorable approach of certain and terrible death.

  The passage was just ahead. Dazed, confused, frightened, gasping for every breath, Ka’en clung to Gorfang’s coat and stumbled forward. There was a sudden burst of intense light from outside, so bright that it turned the night to day for just an instant. As it faded away, a foul stench, as of burning death, pervaded the air. Already sick from fear, this new assault upon her senses was too much for Ka’en and she vomited. Her brain reeled from the alien strain that had been placed upon the world around her. She felt her sense of balance failing her again.

  Then, as the strange glow from outside faded away, they were through the opening, out of the hall, and into the passage. Instinctively, unable to think clearly, Ka'en turned to the right where Aram had led her before. As they receded into the darkness, leaving the great hall behind, there was a lessening of the pressure in the atmosphere, and after retching one more time, and drawing in great gulps of the cooler air of the underground passages, she found that she could think a bit more clearly. They came to another passage that went left, deeper into the mountain and Ka'en guided Gorfang into it.

  “There are rooms along here where we can hide,” she said.

  But Gorfang seized the hem of her dress, pulling her out of that passage and onward. “No, my lady, we must go on – deeper. We must put much rock between us and the terrible things. And I must find a place that I can defend.”

  “Defend?”

  “Yes. I must defend you, mistress, from the wolves.”

  Her mind filled with the overspreading darkness of the unknown terrors, Ka'en had trouble focusing on his meaning. “Wolves?”

  “Kolgar and his people. I believe that they are allied with the terrible things. The terrible things might be too large to gain entry here. But the wolves will come.”

  Obediently, blindly, she stumbled on, deeper into the mountain, holding on to the fur along his back to find her way. After rejecting the second and third passages that led to the left, Gorfang finally turned into the fourth and kept going until he found a room some distance along it with a narrow door.

  Guiding Ka’en into it, he turned and positioned himself in the doorway. “Stay behind me, my lady; I beg you. Not more than one or two can get at me here,” he said and as he did he growled low in his throat. “And they will not get past.”

  Ka’en moved backward, feeling her way carefully with her feet until she made contact with the wall at the rear of the room. Leaning against its coolness, she breathed slowly in and out, clearing her senses. In the distance, all was silent.

  “How can I help you, Gorfang?” Ka’en whispered into the subterranean stillness.

  “By staying behind me where it is safe, mistress,” he answered. “I know these wolves. They fear me. They will not get past.”

  “What about the terrible things?”

  Unseen by Ka’en, the old wolf cocked his head for a moment and let his senses feel their way out into the dark.

  “I cannot feel them as strongly as before, mistress,” he said. “We are deep inside the mountain. The rock must be sufficient.”

  “What are they?” She repeated.

  “I have never known them, my lady. As all of my kind, I have heard the stories of the ‘flying demons’ of ancient times. Perhaps these are they; I cannot say.”

  “And you think they cannot come here?” Ka’en asked.

  “I don’t know,” Gorfang replied. “I think not. They are very large.”

  “And if they do?”

  The old wolf was quiet for a moment.

  “I will defend you to my death,” he said.

  Silence fell.

  Then, after an hour or so, they heard once again the far-off yelps, growls, and howls of wolves doing battle. And there was another, deeper voice mixed into the cacophony.

  Ka’en drew in her breath sharply. “That sounds like Borlus.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Gorfang affirmed. “The bears of the valley have come to the aid of Leorg and his people.”

  Now that she was fully awake and moved, at least for the moment, beyond the reach and horrible influence of the “terrible things”, Ka’en’s fear subsided a little and she began to give thought to what she could do to aid Gorfang if, in fact, the wolves made it past Leorg, Shingka, and Borlus and found their way to them. With a sinking heart, she realized that there were several of Aram’s weapons, both swords and spears, in the tower room at the top of the city. Why hadn’t she brought at least one of those items down into her home over the last few weeks? But then she realized that in the fright of the moments after Gorfang woke her, she more than likely would have forgotten it anyway.

  Sliding down the wall until she crouched on the floor, she began feeling around in the dark, searching for any loose
object that might serve as some sort of weapon. All her probing fingers discovered was that the floor was covered in a deep layer of dust. Moving cautiously, blind in the subterranean night, she eased to her left, carefully feeling about her; then, finding nothing there, she moved back to her right. And to her right she had a bit of luck. Just as she was about to give up on the idea, her fingers closed upon something round, metallic, and yet small enough to fit her hand.

  Strangely, it was not lying flat upon the floor. As she attempted to pick it up, it came only partway and then resisted her effort. Feeling along its length one way, she came to the end where it was jagged and rough. Then she moved her hand back the other way and found that it extended into the stone of the wall behind her. How deep into the wall it went, she did not know. But when she moved it back and forth, she found that it was loose.

  As the sound of the distant battle increased and seemed to come nearer, she worked at the metal rod, pushing it back and forth and after a time was rewarded with the certainty that it was getting looser somewhere beyond the point where it entered the wall. Trying to ignore the rising sounds of the battle out in the city and Gorfang’s occasional, increasingly anxious deep, low growls, she worked at loosening the rod and getting it free of the wall. After a while it seemed that there was nothing else in the world, only the metal rod and her ever-growing need to gain possession of it.

  “They are in the great hall, mistress,” Gorfang said abruptly, bringing her back to the awful truth of the moment.

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “Who is in the great hall?”

  “The wolves – ours and theirs.”

  “Who is winning?”

  Gorfang was silent for a moment, then, “I am sorry, but I cannot say.”

  Letting out the breath, she bent back to her task.

  “Do not fear, mistress; I will let no harm befall you.”

  Gazing in his direction, unseen somewhere to her front, she blinked back tears. “I know, and I trust you, but maybe they won’t come here.”

  “They will come if Leorg and the others cannot stop them.”

  “And the terrible things?” She asked.

  Gorfang hesitated a moment. “They have gone on down the valley – but at least one returns toward us. It seeks us; I can feel it.”

  “Will it get into this place?”

  “I cannot say, mistress. I think not.”

  Ka’en stared in the direction of his voice for a moment longer and then turned her attention, with renewed vigor, back to the acquisition of a weapon. The sounds of the battle occurring in the great hall rose toward crescendo. Unseen to her front, Gorfang stiffened.

  “They are coming, mistress – stay behind me.”

  Ka’en felt her heart jump as the wolf’s words coincided in that instant with the metal rod finally coming loose in her hands.

  “I have a weapon, Gorfang,” she told him. “A metal rod that I found in the wall. Let me help you.”

  “No. It is only Kolgar and two others. My strength will suffice. Stay behind me – please.”

  She stared into the darkness in the direction of his voice but could see nothing. “How will you fight three wolves alone?” She asked.

  “Have no fear for me, mistress. It is only Kolgar and two others,” he repeated.

  At that moment, the voice of an unknown wolf, evidently under duress, invaded her thoughts.

  “Kolgar – It is the ghost wolf.”

  “He is no ghost,” came the contemptuous reply. “He will bleed and die like any other. Go to the right, Kemwurd – Ranlaf, you go at him from the left. Let us kill this traitor and get the woman our master wants.”

  Ka’en’s heart froze at the cold menace in this statement.

  In the darkness before her, standing between her and that awful menace, Gorfang remained silent.

  For a long moment, all was quiet except for the continuing sounds of the distant battle.

  Then, a few yards from her, bedlam erupted – snarls, growls, and yelps of pain. Her heart leapt into her throat.

  Despite the fact that she could see nothing and would have no warning of an imminent attack if Gorfang failed, she lifted the metal rod with both hands and held it above her right shoulder, ready to strike. In the blackness, mere feet away, a battle to the death raged, the snarls and yelps of four wolves comingling in a cacophony of pain and fury.

  Aram, she cried silently; Aram, where are you?

  In that moment, the true horror of her situation struck her. In the next few minutes, if Gorfang could not stave off the savage beasts that meant to kill her, she would likely perish, along with her child. Aram would be left alone in the world, desolated and saddened. Her silent cry became altered – Aram, my love; I’m sorry; you were right, I should have stayed in Derosa. I am so sorry, my love, so sorry.

  There was an intense yelp of pain, followed on the instant by a gurgling sound, and the riot to her front was lessened by at least one voice. Still, the battle occurring in total darkness just a few feet away from her raged on. After a time, there was another harsh cry that rose above the general fury of sound, and then there were only two voices. But since the battle continued and she remained unmolested, she knew that one of the wolves struggling in a death match over her was Gorfang.

  Then there was the sound of stout tissue or sinew, perhaps even bone being crushed and there came a yelp that was cut off. With trembling hands and aching fingers she grasped the rod more tightly and readied herself to swing blindly into the night.

  But no sharp teeth assailed her, no savage mouth grasped her.

  Silence fell in the unseen doorway to her front.

  There was no movement, no padding of feet, nor scrabbling of approaching claws on the stone of the floor.

  No sound at all. Only silence.

  In the distance, the noises of battle had also lessened somewhat, though it seemed obvious that the conflict in the great hall was as yet unresolved.

  As the silence lengthened and deepened, and she remained unmolested, she called softly. “Gorfang?”

  There was no answer.

  “Gorfang – are you there?”

  Silence.

  She began to ease forward, toward the doorway, feeling along the ancient floor with her feet.

  Suddenly, far off in the darkness, from somewhere outside the mountain, there was a terrific detonation that shook the very rock. The horrific explosion consisted not just of sound but also of light, as if the city had been blasted open to the world. For just a moment, she could see – only a little, and only for a moment, but long enough to discover that the bodies of four wolves lay to her front.

  Startled by the suddenness and the ferocity of the detonation outside the mountain, and stricken by the sight of the body of the wolf who’d given his life to save her, she slipped and fell, striking her head against the wall. Total darkness fell once more and she slid into it, as if into sleep.

  64.

  Aram was virtually asleep in the saddle as Thaniel pounded up the long ridge toward the crest of the green hills where they would begin their descent toward the river crossings and the valley beyond. Lost in dreams of reunion with his beloved wife, he was jolted awake by a troubled question from the horse.

  “Will there be two dawns this day, my lord?” The horse asked, and his voice was sharp and tense with concern. “For there is light in the east but also to the north. The light in the north looks as if it comes from the valley and has the appearance of a storm of fire.”

  Hearing this, Aram snapped fully awake, standing up in the stirrups as Thaniel topped the crest. He stared ahead through the predawn twilight, looking hard into the north, across the rivers. Above his valley, east of the black mountain, the sky glowed and smoldered as if the fire that shot it through was mingled with thick smoke.

  Aram’s blood iced in his veins. “Hurry!”

  Surging forward, Thaniel charged over the crest and tore down through the forest.

  As they came into a clearing on the do
wnslope, where a large stand of trees had gone down, Aram could see that fires were burning everywhere across the valley. Most of the fires were scattered, but there was one place where the conflagration was concentrated. This fire was immediately to their front. On the instant he saw it, Aram knew from whence it arose.

  The town in the bend of the river was burning. Staring ahead of him in horror, Aram could see that every hut was aflame. In the village center, a larger building, undoubtedly the granary, sent sheets of flame and clouds of rolling smoke high into the twilit sky.

  “Faster, Thaniel!” Aram’s terror over his wife and the terrible destruction ravaging his valley made him demand that of the horse which was already being given.

  The dawn crept closer; the sky grew brighter.

  They drove downslope and passed through another open area. In the growing light of the coming day Aram could see that on all sides of the town, the fields lay in smoldering ruin. In the streets of the town, oddly-positioned, charred objects lay smoldering as well.

  The bodies of the townsfolk.

  As he stared across his desolated valley, shocked and horrified, there was a sudden – though very brief – burst of fire over to the northwest along the flanks of the mountain.

  Above Regamun Mediar.

  Where Ka'en was.

  Terror surged even higher and struck him in the chest like a hammer, constricting his heart.

  “Go, Thaniel – to the crossings! Quickly!”

  Thaniel ran like thunder, ignoring the ancient, broken road, driving down across the rough ground, crashing through tree limbs and underbrush, heedless of obstacles. Aram knew that the great horse was giving all that he could give, but he couldn't keep himself from demanding more. Terror for Ka'en made him thoughtless.

  “Please, Thaniel, go! Quickly!”

  Out in the darkness beneath the tall trees to the right, he could hear Durlrang's labored breathing as the old wolf struggled to keep pace with the horse. Above the trees, in the east, the sky brightened. Ahead, fire and smoke boiled up into the sky above the valley.