City of Jade (15 page)
Authors: Dennis McKiernan
“Yon is the War Hall,” said Aravan, “a mustering chamber should enemies march up Falanith to threaten this holt.”
“Falanith is the Pitch?”
“Aye,” replied Aravan.
Brekk nodded his agreement and said, “We have mustered here many a time when the Grg tried to conquer this place. Some have managed to breach the old outer gates, but none has ever won across the Great Deôp against the assembled Châkka.”
Aylis said, “I was told an army of Spawn once occupied Drimmen-deeve.”
“Aye, it is true.” Brekk glanced at Châk-Sol Aravan, and then at Aylis. As if making up his mind, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out and then said, “It was after the Ghath—the Gargon—was set free and we were driven from this place. During the Winter War, Modru sent a Horde of Squam to Kraggen-cor, making ready to conquer this part of Mithgar. But his Ghath was slain by the Deevewalkers, and afterward Modru was defeated. There passed two hundred years and some, but at last Seventh Durek brought an army to reclaim our holt, and the Squam were conquered in the War of Kraggen-cor.”
Aylis turned to Aravan. “Deevewalkers?”
“I could tell you that tale, Chier, but in the library of the
Eroean
is a copy of
The Ravenbook
, wherein the entire story is recorded. It is a gripping saga, and one that you will find to your liking.”
Eroean
is a copy of
The Ravenbook
, wherein the entire story is recorded. It is a gripping saga, and one that you will find to your liking.”
“Then I will wait,” said Aylis. “But the story of the Gargon in this stronghold is one I will winnow out for myself.”
A dark look crossed Brekk’s features, as if speaking of those long-past days filled him with shame, for, just as in the story of Blackstone, wherein the Châkka had fled their holt, stolen by the Dragon Sleeth, here the Dwarves had abandoned their homeland, too, had fled from an enemy they could not defeat.
“Come,” he said. “Mayhap DelfLord Balor will be free. If not, I will show you to quarters while you await an audience.”
Rather than risk the horses to the steps, Brekk turned leftward. Down a ramp all went, at the bottom of which they swung to the right and thence to the drawbridge. As they passed over, Aylis looked down. The walls of the abyss were smooth and sheer and dropped straight for as far as the eye could see and vanished into dark depths below. “How deep is this?”
“I know not,” said Aravan, while just ahead of them Brekk turned up a hand as if saying,
Who knows?
Who knows?
As they reached the floor of the War Hall, Brekk called a Dwarf to him, and bade him to lead the horses to the stables, as well to deliver the possessions of the visitors unto the guest quarters. Then rightward he turned to escort the travellers across the hall, toward one of the many exits leading off into passages carved through the stone. On the way to the opening they passed two of the many giant red-granite columns supporting the roof of the chamber. On each pillar the figure of a Dragon was carved twining up and around the great fluted shaft.
Into the passageway they stepped, and up a flight of stairs and then another and another, the group turning left and right and left and . . . At the top of yet another flight of stairs, they came into a long, narrow chamber, where a rune-covered archway athwart the midpoint spanned the full of the width. Aylis looked about, a slight frown of concentration on her face. “The aethyr of this stone is different from that which we have passed through ere now.”
“Bair said something of the like when last I was here,” said Aravan.
“This is the Hall of the Gravenarch,” said Brekk. “Here it was that Braggi and his warband made their last stand, but the Ghath came and slew him and his valiant raiders. Some years later, during the Winter War, to hinder the Ghath, the Deevewalkers broke the arch and the ceiling collapsed. Some two hundred and thirty-one years after that war, we retook Kraggen-cor from the Grg. A decade or so later, we restored the chamber.”
“I assume this tale is in
The Ravenbook
,” said Aylis.
The Ravenbook
,” said Aylis.
“Not Braggi’s tale, but that of the Deevewalkers is,” replied Aravan. “Also in the book is appended the story of the War of Kraggen-cor. Last summer, Faeril gave me a copy of the combine. I sent it by messenger to Long Tom to place it in the
Eroean
’s library. Thou canst read it there.”
Eroean
’s library. Thou canst read it there.”
Out from the Hall of the Gravenarch they passed, turning leftward along a corridor. “Here we are on the Sixth Rise,” said Brekk. “The Great Hall lies just ahead.”
Now they came into a huge, dimly lighted chamber, fully a half mile from end to end and a quarter mile across. And in the center and surrounded by glowing, phosphorescent lanterns sitting on pedestals of stone, mid a seated gathering of Dwarves armed and armored for battle, stood DelfLord Balor, explaining a particular tactic of war.
“We train here,” explained Brekk.
Balor, his dark hair shot through with silver, and dressed in black-iron chain, warmly greeted Aravan and was introduced to Aylis. Leaving Brekk to continue the lesson, the DelfLord led the visitors to a side hall, wherein they were served tea and scones to assuage their appetites until the evening meal. When the Dwarven page left them to themselves, Balor asked, “What brings you to my holt?”
“With your permission, DelfLord, I’ve come to recruit a warband to serve on the
Eroean
,” said Aravan.
Eroean
,” said Aravan.
Balor smiled. “So you are returning to the sea.” Then a look of puzzlement filled his grey eyes. “But why Kraggen-cor? Is it not true that your warbands of the past came from the Red Hills?”
“Two reasons, my lord: first, many of the Red Hills Drimma came here after you retook this holt from the Rûpt. And as is my wont, I like to have the descendants of those who served with me in the past be the ones to serve in the present, for the strength of proven blood ofttimes runs true.”
Balor nodded. “Indeed. And you may gather your forty from among my warriors. The experience will benefit them, I would think.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said Aravan.
Balor frowned, as if trying to capture an elusive memory; then he brightened. “Captain Brekk can assist you, Aravan, for I believe that one of his ancestors sailed on the
Eroean
long past.”
Eroean
long past.”
“Oh,” said Aravan. “Dost thou recall his name?”
“Bokar, it was, I think.”
“Ah, yes. Armsmaster Bokar. I remember him well,” said Aravan.
“As do I,” said Aylis, for he had been the Dwarven warband leader in those days millennia agone when she had sailed upon the
Eroean
ere the destruction of Rwn.
Eroean
ere the destruction of Rwn.
Aravan’s gaze lost its focus as he remembered times past. Then he said, “A mighty warrior was Bokar, and if Brekk is anything like his ancestor . . .”
“He is one of my finest captains,” said Balor.
“Then done and done,” said Aravan. “Brekk will be my new armsmaster.”
Balor then cocked an eyebrow and asked, “And the second reason you are here . . . ?”
“I need a pound of starsilver,” said Aravan, grinning.
Balor broke into laughter and said, “As you did Khana Durek, so you do me. But must it be a whole pound?”
“Aye, for ’tis time the keel and underside coat of the
Eroean
needs replenishing.”
Eroean
needs replenishing.”
Balor shook his head and sighed. “Starsilver used as an ingredient in paint for a ship’s hull. It seems a waste.”
“Not a waste, my lord,” said Aravan, “for barnacles cannot cling to starsilver and it rejects growth, hence my ship will run all the faster with her argent bottom. And as you know, you will profit well beyond the measure of the silveron’s worth.”
Balor smiled and said, “We are currently working the lode nigh the Lair of the Ghath. I will send a message for a pound to be newly delved and refined for your use.”
Just after breaking fast the next day, as Aravan, with Brekk’s aid, began recruiting a warband, Aylis sought out Balor.
“Starsilver mining and refining: Might I go and see how this is done?” asked Aylis. “Besides, Aravan said that the Gargon broke free of its lair, and I would see that place, if I might.”
Balor swept a hand toward the far reaches of Kraggen-cor and said, “It would be my pleasure to guide you myself.”
Balor and Aylis saddled two ponies and, following a trade road that had one terminus at the Dawn Gate and the other at the Dusk Door, they set out along the road, with its twisting but gently sloped up and down stone passages that would take them nigh the silveron vein lying some thirty-six miles away. As they journeyed, Aylis spoke of the taking of the black fortress, and the need for the Châkka to learn the rite for the crossing of the Planes. The morning waxed as they rode, though, underground as they were, Aylis could but guess as to the mark of the day; nevertheless, she took Balor at his word when he said that the noontide had come. They stopped by an undermountain stream for a meal and to feed and water the ponies, but took up the ride shortly after. “Even though we are pressing the pace,” said Balor, “it will be two candlemarks after sunset when we arrive. My lady, I would not have you overtired, and so we will stay the morrow and return the day after.” Onward they rode, and Aylis spoke of the days she and Aravan had had on the
Eroean
.
Eroean
.
At last they came to a small underground community, where the starsilver miners were quartered. As they arrived at the stable, two young Dwarves—no more than teens, for their beards were not yet in evidence—took the animals back into the stalls to care for them. Balor then guided Aylis to a mess hall, where they took a meal along with Dwarven miners, after which to the gathering therein, Aylis told of the taking of the Black Fortress, this time speaking fluent Châkur.
The next morning Balor guided her along a pathway and over a bridge under which water flowed, and thence they went along a shelf toward where starsilver lay. Just ahead was a breach in the stone, and beyond that stood a chamber, one whose floor and walls and ceiling were crisscrossed with jagged silveron veins. As Aylis entered she noted a faint foul odor on the air, which seemed to emanate from a huge stone slab centered in the room. Rectangular it was and with a flat top, rather like a dais, and it held carvings along the sides. And along the sides as well were runes smeared in dark ichor. Aylis frowned and then said a word, then translated aloud, “Tuuth Uthor.”
“That was the name of the Ghath,” said Balor.
“This then is the Gargon’s Lair?”
“Aye.”
“And you did not remove his name?”
“It reminds us of our shame,” said Balor. “We fled.”
“It is no shame to flee a Gargon,” said Aylis. “They are Fearcasters.”
“Nevertheless,” said Balor.
At the far end along one side a wide stone doorway gaped, and from beyond came the sounds of hammers striking chisels and the chanking and clanging of a working mine.
Balor led Aylis through the opening, and there she saw Dwarves cutting silveron-laden rock from the walls.
“Here lies that which is more precious than diamond,” said Balor, gesturing widely.
“And you are giving a pound to Aravan,” said Aylis.
Balor merely nodded.
After a moment, Aylis looked back toward the Gargon’s Lair. “Yet you do not mine the starsilver in that place?”
Balor shook his head. “As I said, it serves to remind us of our shame. Mayhap if such a thing happens again, we will not flee.”
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