Trek to Kraggen-Cor (4 page)

"Upon hearing from the King that Spaunen held Drimmen-deeve, Anval and Bonn were enraged, and pledged the Dwarf Host to the task of exterminating the Yrmish vermin from the Dwarves' ancestral home—a pledge since affirmed by Durek. This pledge was swiftly accepted by a grateful King Da-rion, for the Spawn present a grave problem to the Realm: the High King knows that all his cavalry and knights, his pikemen and archers, and his infantry and all other soldiery, though mighty upon any open field of battle, would be sorely pressed to fight the Yrm in the splits and cracks and other black holes under the mountains. Though he had planned to lay long siege to Drimmen-deeve, the problem of routing out the Spaunen still remained.

"Durek's pledge solved that problem, for there is no better underground waiTior than a Dwarf—and they are always eager to avenge old wrongs upon their ancient adversary, the Yrm. Thus, the Dwarves are to issue into Drimmen-deeve and vanquish the enemy. They have asked King Darion to forego his planned siege that they might more readily take the Spawn by surprise; this the King has agreed to do. During the interim, Darion sends escort with traders and travellers to protect them, and he has gathered the farmers, woodcutters, woodsmen, and other settlers in to holdfasts til such time as the Dwarves smash the foe.

"Even now the Dwarf Host has mustered and, if things have gone as planned, is on the march from Mineholt North. Though Gnar's raids still go on, soon—we hope with your help, Perry—they shall be eliminated forever." Lord Kian returned from the window and settled back in his chair and fixed Pern with a keen eye.

"But how can / help?" queried a puzzled Perry, wondering how the Dwarf mission could possibly bear upon The Raven Book and him.

Borin leaned forward and pushed the 'Book across the table to Pern "Except for Braggi's doomed raid," Borin growled, "Chakka have not lived in Kraggen-cor for more than a thousand years—even though it is rightfully ours —for to our everlasting shame we were driven away long ago by a foe we

could not withstand: the Ghath, now dead. And though our lore speaks of many things in Kraggen-cor, such as the Spiral Down or the Great Chamber, our knowledge of that eld Chakkaholt consists of legendary names and fragmentary descriptions. Our homeland is a mystery to us. We do not know how to get from one place to another. We do not know the paths and halls and rooms and caverns of mighty Kraggen-cor. If we must, we will fight the foul Grg enemy upon unknown ground and chance defeat—but only if we must.

"Yet, if our information is correct, it will not come to that end. We are told by King Darion that your Raven Book —at least the original—holds within it a description of a journey through stolen Kraggen-cor. If so, then from that description, that route, we can glean vital knowledge of the layout of at least a part of Kraggen-cor—knowledge needed to smash the Squam and retake the caverns."

'The High King knows about Mister Perry and his book?" asked Cotton in awe, momentarily overwhelmed by the idea that High King Darion could know of someone in the Boskydells.

"Aye, he does indeed know of your Raven Book, "answered Anval, "for he, too, has a copy in Pellar—or did have. His book was out of the Kingdom when we were there—somewhere here in the Boskydells ... or so he told us."

"Why, if it's not at the court it must be with my grand-uncle at the Cliffs," said Perry. "He's the Master of the Ravenbook Scholars—Uncle Gerontius Fairhill, I mean—and if he's got the King's copy, then they're adding to it the marginalia collected by the Scholars over the past fifty years or so. . . . Let me see: this would be only the third time it's been updated since its making long ago—"

"Be that as it may," interrupted Borin, "King Darion told us that Sir Tuckerby's diary and the original Raven Book were also here in the Boskydells—perhaps at Sir Tuckerby's Warren, being tended by the Fairhills, he thought. Hence we came, and your Mayor led us to you, Master Perry.

"Heed me: The account of the journey through Kraggen-cor is vital to us. We have travelled far to see the Raven Book. And if the tale is here in your copy, we would hear it for ourselves." Borin pushed the grey book across the table toward Perry.

Somewhat taken aback by the bruskness of the Dwarves, the two Warrows glanced at one another, and then at Lord Kian. Reassured by the smile upon the Man's face, Perry reached for the tome. "Oh, the tale is here all right," replied the buccan, turning the book around, preparing to open it; but then he paused. "Only, I don't know exactly where to start. I think perhaps before I read to you of that trip through dreaded Drimmen-deeve, we should speak a bit about what went before, for mayhap it will have a bearing upon your quest."

"Say on," said Borin, "for we know not what may aid." And Anval, too, nodded his agreement while Lord Kian settled back in his chair.

"Who can say where an event begins?" mused Perry, "for surely all happenings have many threads reaching deep into the past, each strand winding its way through the fabric of time to weave in the great pattern. But let me start with the first battle of the Winter War, for two of the four comrades came together in its aftermath, and went on to meet the third, and they in turn came upon the fourth:

"As Modru's forces marched from the Wastes of Gron through the Shad-owlight of Winternight and down upon the northern citadel of Challerain Keep, and as women and children and the old and infirm fell back toward the havens of Pellar and Wellen, of Valon and Jugo, and of other Lands to the south, some warriors hastened north, to answer the High King's call to arms. Among those mustered was a force of Warrows, skilled in archery; and one of these Vulg-fighting Warrows was Sir Tuckerby Underbank, known then simply as Tuck.

"The iron fist of War at last fell upon Challerain Keep, and you all know the outcome of that struggle, so I'll say nothing more of it, except that the order to retreat had been given and Tuck became separated from his companions. He had spent all of his arrows, and Rucks, Hloks, and Ghuls were closing in. To elude Modru's forces, Tuck took refuge in an old tomb; it was the barrow of Othran the Seer. There, too, by happenstance, came Galen, then Prince of Pellar, weaponless, for his sword had shattered in battle.

"Together the two waited until the enemy passed by, and then, riding double, they struck southward through the Dimmendark, their only arms being the Red Arrow, borne by Tuck, and a long-knife of Atala, carried by Galen—both weapons having been found in the tomb.

"They had ridden to the northern marches of the Battle Downs when they came upon a scene dire, one of butchery, for the entire escort as well as the helpless innocents of the last refugee waggon train had been slaughtered. Yet neither Galen's betrothed, Princess Laurelin of Riamon, nor his brother, Prince Igon, Captain of the escort, was among the slain."

"Modru Kinstealer," said Lord Kian softly, swirling the ale in his mug.

"Just so," answered Perry with a nod. "Princess Laurelin was taken captive. The track of a large force of mounted Ghuls bore eastward, deeper into the Dimmendark, toward the Grimwall. In pursuit along this track rode Galen and Tuck, pressing into Winternight.

"At last they came unto the Weiunwood, that shaggy forest, where they learned that here, too, a mighty battle had been fought; but here the Alliance had won, using Warrow woods-trickery and Elven lore and the strength of Men. Tuck and Galen met with Arbagon, Bockleman, and Inarion—leaders of the Warrows, Men, and Elves—and Galen was told that five days pa^t a Helsteed-mounted Ghulen force had hammered by, still bearing toward the Grimwall. And afterwards a lone rider had followed slowly in their wake.

"Again, Galen and Tuck bore east, and days later came to the Hidden

Refuge, Arden. There they found Galen's brother, Igon, sorely wounded. It was he who had been the lone tracker of the Kinstealer force. But his wounds, taken in the attack upon the waggon train, had at last overcome him, and he would have died but that the Elves found him lying unconscious in the Winternight and saved him.

"Even as brother spoke to brother, to the Refuge came the Elf Lord Gildor bearing word that Galen's sire, King Aurion, had been slain and that Galen was now High King of all Mithgar.

"Galen was sore beset, for his heart told him to go north and somehow deliver Laurelin out of the enemy stronghold; yet his duty told him that as King he must turn south and come unto Pellar to gather the Host to face Modru's hordes.

"The next morning, with heavy hearts, Galen and Tuck bore southward, leaving Igon behind in Arden in the care of Elvenkind. With them rode Gildor, now Elven advisor to Galen as he had been to Aurion before. The three were making for Quadran Pass and beyond to the Larkenwald, Darda Galion. Gildor sought to warn his Elven kindred, the Lian, that it was almost certain that the Larkenwald, too, soon would be under attack. The companions planned to give warning and afterward to fare onward to Pellar and the Host.

"Through the Dimmendark the trio rode, ever bearing southward. They overtook a Swarm of Modru's forces also bearing south, marching toward Black Drimmen-deeve to make it into a vile fortress whence the Spawn would launch their attack upon Darda Galion.

"Silently passing by the Horde, southward rode the trio of Galen, Tuck, and Gildor, in haste now, to warn the Lian of the coming enemy. Far they rode, but at last came to a defile where they heard the sound of single combat, and happened upon a lone Dwarf and a solitary Hlok, fighting amid a great slaughter of Dwarven and Rucken dead—"

"Brega, Bekki's son!" burst out Anval, fiercely, raising a clenched fist; and Borin cried, "Warrior, hai!"

"Yes," confirmed Perry, "it was Brega, Bekki's son; and he slew the Hlok. Then Brega alone stood, the last of a force of forty Dwarves from the Red Caves, marching north to join in the battle against Modru. Altogether, the forty had slain nearly two hundred maggot-folk; yet at the last all had fallen but Brega."

Here Anval and Borin cast their hoods over their heads. "Chdkka shok (Dwarven axes)/' rumbled Borin; "Chdkka cor (Dwarven might)" added Anval.

In respect, Perry paused a moment, and then continued: "Now the great southward-bound force of the Spaunen Horde was drawing nigh, and Brega stood ready to face them alone. Yet he was at last persuaded that to gain revenge for his slain brethren he must go south with Tuck and Galen and Gildor to join the Host to battle Modru. And so, somewhat reluctantly it

seems, Brega mounted up behind Lord Gildor to ride to the Larkenwald and then beyond.

"Now, at last, you see, the Wheel of Fate had turned to bring the four together, and toward Quadran Pass they rode. Cross it they did, and had come partway down Quadran Run, down the flank of Stormhelm, heading for the Pitch and the Larkenwald beyond. But here they were thwarted, for a large force of mounted Ghuls—advance eyes for the Horde—was returning over the range, coming up the Run toward them..

"The four were forced back over the Gap, ahead of the Ghuls. Yet they planned to slip aside at first chance and hide until the Ghuls were beyond them and gone. But before they could do so, Vulgs from the Horde discovered them, and ahead of Modru's riders through the Dimmendark the companions fled."

"Wouldn't you just know it!" blurted Cotton, frustrated by the turn of events even though they were more than two centuries in the past, and despite his having heard the tale many times before. Then, embarrassed by his outburst, the buccan took a sip from his mug and studiously peered at the alefroth, and avoided catching the eyes of the others.

"Southward they ran," continued Perry, "til their horses were nearly foundered, for each was carrying double. And so, out of necessity, the four at last turned east into a valley, hoping to elude the Winternight pursuit. As they neared the head of the valley, Gildor recognized the land: it was Ragad Vale —the Valley of the Door—and they were coming toward the Dusk-Door, the abandoned western entrance into Black Drimmen-deeve. And the Door had been shut ages agone and had not been opened since.

"On they rode, forced ever eastward ahead of tracking Vulgs, finally to come to the great hemidome in the Loomwall of Grimspire; and a black lake was there. Along a causeway they went, til they reached a drawbridge, and it was up, raised high. While the others waited, Gildor swam across, and a great swirl in the water came nigh, for something lurked in the black depths.

"Yet the Elf safely gained the other side and began to lower the bridge; but the haul broke, and down the bascule came with a great crash. The sound boomed down the vale and brought the searching Ghuls riding at speed. The remaining comrades dashed across the bridge and joined the Elf, and all went past the sunken courtyard and to the great edifice of the Dusk-Door.

"Black water from the Dark Mere lapped at the steps rising up to the huge columns. Between these pillars the four ran, drawing the two horses behind, coming to the great portico.

"The Ghuls rode to the causeway, but then shied back, as if afraid to ride its length to get at the four.

"Brega, remembering the lore words, managed to open the Dusk-Door; yet the four were loath to enter Black Drimmen-deeve, for therein lived foul maggot-folk—but even more so, therein ruled the evil Gargon, Modru's Dread. Yet Fate offered them but two courses: to face the immediate threat

of a great number of Ghuls standing athwart the path along the causeway, or to enter the Spawn-filled, Dread-ruled halls of Drimmen-deeve.

"But then all choice was snatched from them, for the lurker in the Dark Mere—the Krakenward—struck: hideous ropy arms writhed out of the black water and clutched the horses; and screaming in terror the steeds were drawn down the steps and under the dark surface. Gildor sprang forward to save Fleetfoot, but the Lian warrior was struck numb—for at that very moment, Vanidor, Gildor's twin, was slain at the Iron Tower, and Gildor felt his brother's death. A tentacle grasped Gildor as he fell, stunned, to his knees; but Galen, using the Atalar Blade, hacked at the arm, cleaving a great gash in it, and in the creature's pain it flung Gildor aside.

"Through the Dusk-Door the four fled, the enraged Monster clutching at them with slimy tentacles, lashing at them with a dead tree, pounding at the Door with a great stone, and wrenching at the gates.