Magician (29 page)

As they walked, the sound of rushing
water became louder. They entered another cavern, this one natural
and larger than the first by several times. The tunnel they had been
walking in became a ledge, twenty feet wide, that ran along the right
side of the cavern. They all peered over the edge and could see
nothing but darkness stretching away below.

The path rounded a curve in the wall,
and when they passed around it, they were greeted with a sight that
made them all gasp. Across the cavern, a mighty waterfall spilled
over a huge outcropping of stone. From fully three hundred feet above
where they stood, it poured into the cavern, crashing down the stone
face of the opposite wall to disappear into the darkness below. It
filled the cavern with reverberations that made it impossible to hear
it striking bottom, confounding any attempt to judge the fall’s
height. Throughout the cascade luminous colors danced, aglow with an
inner light. Reds, golds, greens, blues, and yellows played among the
white foam, falling along the wall, blazing with brief flashes of
intense luminosity where the water struck the wall, painting a fairy
picture in the darkness.

Dolgan shouted over the roar, “Ages
ago the river Wynn-Ula ran from the Grey Towers to the Bitter Sea. A
great quake opened a fissure under the river, and now it falls into a
mighty underground lake below. As it runs through the rocks, it picks
up the minerals that give it its glowing colors.” They stood
quietly for a while, marveling at the sight of the falls of Mac
Mordain Cadal.

The Duke signaled for the march to
resume, and they moved on. Besides the spectacle of the falls, they
had been refreshed by spray and cool wind off them, for the caverns
were dank and musty. Onward they went, deeper into the mines, past
numberless tunnels and passages. After a time, Gardan asked the boys
how they fared. Pug and Tomas both answered that they were fine,
though tired.

Later they came to yet another cavern,
and Dolgan said it was time to rest the night. More torches were lit,
and the Duke said, “I hope we have enough brands to last the
journey. They burn quickly.”

Dolgan said, “Give me a few men,
and I will fetch some old timbers for a fire. There are many lying
about if you know where to find them without bringing the ceiling
down upon your head.”

Gardan and two other men followed the
dwarf into a side tunnel, while the others unloaded the mules and
staked them out. They were given water from the waterskins and a
small portion of grain carried for the times when they could not
graze.

Borric sat next to Kulgan. “I
have had an ill feeling for the last few hours. Is it my imagining,
or does something about this place bode evil?”

Kulgan nodded as Arutha joined them “I
have felt something also, but it comes and goes. It is nothing I can
put a name to.”

Arutha hunkered down and used his
dagger to draw aimlessly in the dirt. “This place would give
anyone a case of the jumping fits and starts. Perhaps we all feel the
same thing: dread at being where men do not belong.”

The Duke said, “I hope that is
all it is. This would be a poor place to fight”—he
paused—”or flee from.” The boys stood watch, but
could overhear the conversation, as could the other men, for no one
else was speaking in the cavern and the sound carried well Pug said
in a hushed voice, “I will also be glad to be done with this
mine.”

Tomas grinned in the torchlight, his
face set in an evil leer. “Afraid of the dark, little boy?”

Pug snorted. “No more than you,
should you but admit it. Do you think you could find your way out?”

Tomas lost his smile. Further
conversation was interrupted by the return of Dolgan and the others.
They carried a good supply of broken timbers, used to shore up the
passages in days gone by. A fire was quickly made from the old, dry
wood, and soon the cavern was brightly lit.

The boys were relieved of guard duty
and ate. As soon as they were done eating, they spread their cloaks.
Pug found the hard dirt floor uncomfortable, but he was very tired,
and sleep soon overtook him.

They led the mules deeper into the
mines, the animal’s hooves clattering on the stone, the sound
echoing down the dark tunnels. They had walked the entire day, taking
only a short rest to eat at noon. Now they were approaching the
cavern where Dolgan said they were to spend their second night. Pug
felt a strange sensation, as if remembering a cold chill. It had
touched him several times over the last hour, and he was worried.
Each time he had turned to look behind him. This time Gardan said. “I
feel it too, boy, as if something is near.”

They entered another large glory hole,
and Dolgan stood with his hand upraised. All movement ceased as the
dwarf listened for something. Pug and Tomas strained to hear as well,
but no sounds came to them. Finally the dwarf said, “For a time
I thought I heard . . . but then I guess not. We will camp here.”
They had carried spare timber with them and used it to make a fire.

When Pug and Tomas left their watch,
they found a subdued party around the fire. Dolgan was saying, “This
part of Mac Mordain Cadal is closest to the deeper, ancient tunnels.
The next cavern we come to will have several that lead directly to
the old mines. Once past that cavern, we will have a speedy passage
to the surface. We should be out of the mine by midday tomorrow.”

Borric looked around “This place
may suit your nature, dwarf, but I will be glad to have it behind.”

Dolgan laughed, the rich, hearty sound
echoing off the cavern walls. “It is not that the place suits
my nature, Lord Borric, but rather that my nature suits the place. I
can travel easily under the mountains, and my folk have ever been
miners. But as to choice, I would rather spend my time in the high
pastures of Caldara tending my herd, or sit in the long hall with my
brethren, drinking ale and singing ballads.”

Pug asked, “Do you spend much
time singing ballads?”

Dolgan fixed him with a friendly smile,
his eyes shining in the firelight. “Aye. For winters are long
and hard in the mountains. Once the herds are safely in winter
pasture, there is little to do, so we sing our songs and drink autumn
ale, and wait for spring. It is a good life.”

Pug nodded. “I would like to see
your village sometime,

Dolgan.” Dolgan puffed on his
ever-present pipe. “Perhaps you will someday, laddie.”

They turned in for the night, and Pug
drifted off to sleep. Once in the dead of night, when the fire had
burned low, he awoke, feeling the chilling sensation that had plagued
him earlier. He sat up, cold sweat dripping down his body, and looked
around. He could see the guards who were on duty, standing near their
torches. Around him he saw the forms of sleeping bodies. The feeling
grew stronger for a moment, as if something dreadful was approaching,
and he was about to wake Tomas when it passed, leaving him tired and
wrung out. He lay back down and soon was lost in dreamless sleep.

He awoke cold and stiff. The guards
were readying the mules, and soon they would all leave Pug roused
Tomas, who protested at being pulled from his dream. “I was in
the kitchen at home, and Mother was preparing a large platter of
sausages and corn cakes dripping with honey,” he said sleepily.

Pug threw a biscuit at him “This
will have to do until Bordon. Then we shall eat.”

They gathered together their meager
provisions, loaded them on the mules, and set off. As they made their
way along, Pug began to experience the icy feeling of the night
before. Several times it came and went. Hours passed, and they came
to the last great cave. Here Dolgan stopped them while he looked into
the gloom. Pug could hear him saying, “For a moment I thought .
. .”

Suddenly the hairs on Pug’s neck
stood up, and the feeling of icy terror swept over him, more horrible
than before. “Dolgan, Lord Borric!” he cried. “Something
terrible is happening!”

Dolgan stood stock-still, listening. A
faint moan echoed from down another tunnel.

Kulgan shouted, “I feel something
also.”

Suddenly the sound repeated, closer, a
chilling moan that echoed off the vaulted ceiling, making its origins
uncertain.

“By the gods!” shouted the
dwarf. “’Tis a wraith! Hurry! Form a circle, or it will
be upon us and we’ll be lost.”

Gardan pushed the boys forward, and the
guards moved the mules to the center of the cavern. They quickly
staked the two mules down andi formed a circle around the frantic
animals. Weapons were drawn. Gardan placed himself before the two
boys, forcing them back near the mules. Both had swords out, but held
them uncertainly. Tomas could feel his heart pound, and Pug was
bathed in cold sweat. The terror that gripped him had not increased
since Dolgan had put a name to it, but it had not lessened either.

They heard the sharp hiss of intaken
breath and looked to the right. Before the soldier who had made the
sound, a figure loomed out of the darkness: a shifting man-shape,
darker blackness against the black, with two glowing, red-coal lights
where eyes should be.

Dolgan shouted, “Keep close, and
guard your neighbor. You can’t kill it, but they like not the
feel of cold iron. Don’t let it touch you, for it’ll draw
your life from your body. It is how they feed.”

It approached them slowly, as if having
no need to hurry. It stopped for a moment, as if inspecting the
defense before it.

The wraith let out another low, long
moan, sounding like all the terror and hopelessness of the world
given voice. Suddenly one of the guards struck downward, slashing at
the wraith. A shrill moan erupted from the creature when the sword
hit, and cold blue fire danced along the blade for a moment. The
creature shrank away, then with sudden speed struck out at the guard.
An armlike shadow extended from its body, and the guard shrieked as
he crumpled to the ground.

The mules broke, pulling up stakes,
terrified by the presence of the wraith. Guards were knocked to the
ground, and confusion reigned. Pug lost sight of the wraith for a
moment, being more concerned with flying hooves. As the mules kicked,
Pug found himself dodging through the melee. He heard Kulgan’s
voice behind him and saw the magician standing next to Prince Arutha.
“Stand close, all of you,” the magician commanded.
Obeying, Pug closed to Kulgan with the others as the scream of
another guard echoed through the gallery Within a moment a great
cloud of white smoke began to appear around them, issuing from
Kulgan’s body. “We must leave the mules,” said the
magician “The undead will not enter the smoke, but I cannot
keep it together long or walk far. We must escape now!”

Dolgan pointed to a tunnel, on the
other side of the cavern from where they had entered. “That’s
the way we must go.” Keeping close together, the group started
toward the tunnel while a terrified bray sounded. Bodies lay on the
floor: the two mules as well as the fallen guards. Dropped torches
flickered, giving the scene a nightmarish quality, as the black shape
closed upon the party. Reaching the edge of the smoke, it recoiled
from its touch. It ranged about the edge, unable or unwilling to
enter the white smoke.

Pug looked past the creature, and the
pit of his stomach churned.

Clearly standing in the light of a
torch held in his hand was Tomas, behind the creature. Tomas looked
helplessly past the wraith at Pug and the escaping party. “Tomas!”
ripped from Pug’s throat, followed by a sob.

The party halted for a brief second,
and Dolgan said, “We can’t stop. We’d all perish
for the sake of the boy. We must press on.” A firm hand
clutched at Pug’s shoulder as he started forward to aid his
friend. He looked back and saw that it was Gardan holding him. “We
must leave him, Pug,” he said, a grim expression on his ebony
face. “Tomas is a soldier. He understands.” Pug was
pulled along helplessly. He saw the wraith follow along for a moment,
then stop and turn toward Tomas.

Whether alerted by Pug’s cries or
by some evil sense, the undead creature started toward Tomas, slowly
stalking him. The boy hesitated, then spun and ran to another tunnel.
The wraith shrieked and started after him. Pug saw the glow of
Tomas’s torch disappear down the tunnel, then flicker into
blackness.

Tomas saw the pained expression on
Pug’s face as Gardan pulled his friend away. When the mules had
broken, he had dodged away from the others and now found himself
separated from them. He looked for a way to circle around the wraith,
but it was too close to the passage his companions were taking. As
Kulgan and the others escaped up the tunnel, Tomas saw the wraith
turn toward him. It started to approach, and he hesitated a moment,
then ran toward a different tunnel.

Shadows and light danced madly on the
walls as Tomas fled down the passage, his footfalls echoing in the
gloom. His torch was held tightly in his left hand, the sword
clutched in his right. He looked over his shoulder and saw the two
glowing red eyes pursuing him, though they seemed not to be gaining.
With grim determination he thought, if it catches me, it will catch
the fastest runner in all of Crydee. He lengthened his strides into a
long, easy lope, saving strength and wind. He knew that if he had to
turn and face the creature, he would surely die. The initial fear
lessened, and now he felt a cold clarity holding his mind, the
cunning reason of a prey knowing it is hopeless to fight. All his
energy was turned toward fleeing. He would try to lose the creature
any way possible.

He ducked into a side corridor and
hurried along it, checking to see if the wraith would follow. The
glowing red eyes appeared at the entrance to the tunnel he had turned
into, following him. The distance between them seemed to have
increased. The thought that many might have died at the thing’s
hand because they were too frightened to run crossed his mind. The
wraith’s strength lay in the numbing terror it caused.