Chapter 16

It was daylight. That very fact consumed their thoughts for interminable moments. After that they smelled the sweet, fresh air, and then the memories of life above ground came rushing back to them, and they felt truly alive once more. No longer were they to be condemned to walking in the dark like hapless spirits searching through the void for lives lost. In some measure they could be whole again, though they would of course never be the same.
      It was Burak who brought their minds back to their present difficulty: that of squeezing through the narrow fissure that separated them from the outer world. The Dwarf had discovered the outlines of a secret door much like that in the Glammen Dome, but its mechanism was long broken and it would not budge. They pushed and they pulled, they beat against it with their bodies, they hacked at it with axe and sword and with large rocks that they found laying about. In the end they sat round it and assaulted it with all manner of oaths and expletives, yet the door would not move.
      Burak examined every inch of the door frame and at length he concluded that the only weak point of it was at the base. Over the many years erosion had worn away at the rocks upon which the door sat and now only the outer row of support stones remained. All they needed was to find some way to remove those foundation pieces and then the door would rip itself out of its hinge by its own weight.
      This plan seemed sound, and so they got right down to work digging out the support stones. It took them several hours, but finally they had removed all the pieces of the door frame which supported the door. Then they pushed and pulled on the handle till the door began to hang somewhat crooked, and then it simply collapsed just as Burak said it would. Unfortunately, though the Dwarf warned them all to stand clear of the door when it did fall, he himself did not heed his own advise and the massive rock fell on his foot, nearly breaking his big toe. Fortunately, the Dwarf wore very stout boots.
      Finally they emerged into the pass. It was now noon, though of which day they could not be certain. Yet they wasted no time in moving out. Unfortunately, their steeds were tethered on the far side of Mount Ceredh from where they now stood. They estimated that they had a twenty-five to thirty mile hike back to the front gate, and it would take at least the rest of the day to make the march.
      They started immediately. The day was sunny and though it was also hot, so invigorated were they by the fresh air and abundant sunlight that they hiked with rare enthusiasm and covered many miles before sunset, and even a few more after dark. Early the next day they rose refreshed after a full night’s sleep and continued their march, arriving at the front gate around mid-morn.
      Their steeds were all doing fine and that was something of a relief, for the party had half feared that Nostaite might have molested them to slow any pursuit. But the beasts had had a nice long rest without trouble or bother. With tethers set long they had been given the run of a respectable little plot of green field and their only exertion over the several days had been that of munching grass. What thirst the dewy grass did not quench they satisfied in the puddles that formed after the several summer rains. By and large it had been a pleasant holiday and they were feeling, if anything, restless for the road.
      They were not to be disappointed. The company mounted up just as soon as they could and a right quick pace was set by Windaris just as soon as they hit the main road. North through the Penyandil Pass they went with great, sheer bluffs on either hand, in some places narrower than three fat ponies abreast and in others as wide as fifty yards or more. But for most of the way the road was comfortably wide and they rode through without too much worry of landslides or any of the other unpleasant surprises for which passes are sometimes known.
      The pass itself was about thirty miles long, with the narrow approach from the north adding another twenty onto that. The company turned west as soon as it was practicable and rode hard for another twenty-five miles before stopping for the night. They were travelling very quickly now and like as not they would need to continue on at that pace for several days in order to have any chance of catching up with Nostaite. But as the steeds were holding up quite well there was as of yet little concern about conserving their strength.
      Raavan had sensed the passage of the codex very strongly when the party emerging from Ilimath had marched south through the pass. Yet now he sensed that the aura was fading rapidly and hence his main concern at the moment was in making great haste.
      The following day they rose early, ate a quick meal, and then continued westward. Seventy-five miles they rode ere the mountains began to fade from sight. Now the character of the land began to change once again, for they were entering the dry, desiccated land of Malindor. The road had turned south as soon as they had fully rounded the mountains, and leaving it they now travelled over the rough, stony ground as best they could. In time they began to see tall, pointy mounds that rose up from the ground: strange, irregular projections of earth that stood fully as tall as a man. Alatar informed them that these were ant hills, though they did not stop to investigate the curious structures, much as some of them would have liked.
      Another seventy miles they rode that day, and then they stopped to eat a hot meal and rest for the night. The Elflings had shot several rabbits which they encountered scampering about in the desert and these provided a welcome change from the tiresome Melimbar, which to nobody’s particular relief was still in abundant supply.
      The next morning they set off early again and soon they encountered a caravan of desert people travelling from the north-west. Oarí they were called, and they travelled not on horses or ponies, but on large llama-like creatures called Meithim. These the Elflings thought very endearing, for they had short snouts, sharp eyes, and large furry ears that persistently stuck up and rotated this way and that as their attention dictated.
      The company stopped briefly as Raavan spoke with one of the dark-skinned Oarí, a man in his forties named Ryanu. The man spoke with a thick accent unlike that which the Elflings had ever heard before. He had a short, roughly trimmed beard, he wore a long tan robe and a curious red cap that looked to be made of satin, and he stank with weeks of dried sweat.
      The man explained to Raavan that he and his people had fled their homes in northwestern Malindor to escape the gangs of roving monsters from Tath. These raiding parties were becoming increasingly common and it had become correspondingly difficult to defend themselves from the reavers. From the man’s description Raavan inferred that these gangs consisted primarily of Goblyns, Troells, and Ghakhen, with no sign yet of the corpse-like Naegrim. The Ghakhen Ryanu described as being tall like a man, but with great muscular strength, many sharp fangs, and a disposition so savage that it compensated quite well for their utter lack of intelligence.
      Ryanu relayed to Raavan news that great numbers of these monsters were amassing in Tath. Strange lights were seen in the sky at night and this was taken by the desert people as an omen that a great war was coming, one that would bring immeasurable destruction. They were heading for south-eastern Malindor, or possibly Koronandor. They would simply go on till they found safety.
      While Raavan spoke with the dark-skinned man his steed, a Meithim named Yenie, gave Dannadar a tiny nip in the arm. ‘Ouch!’ the Elfling exclaimed with a jump, but Ryanu informed him that the Meithim was harmless and merely wanted some food. Dannadar straightway forgave the animal and commented that he was ‘a bonny and frolicsome rascal,’ though he had no dainties to offer the beast. Raavan conversed with Ryanu a few minutes more and the Elflings’ attention wandered to the rest of the caravan, which was starting now to move on again. Talen turned then to see that Yenie had stuck his head full into Dannadar’s pack and was rummaging about. He ate two Melimbar cakes before they were able to extract his head from the bag. When Ryanu smacked the Meithim on the nose for his piracy the beast replied with a plaintive honking that only inspired the Elflings to greater pity.
      The company said good-bye to Ryanu and Yenie and then continued westward. Now they were confronted with an enormous mesa-like plateau some fifty miles wide called the Cérron. All around the edges of the Cérron ran a high escarpment split with defiles and ravines that bore deep into the immense landform.
      Toward the massive Cérron they now rode and Raavan frequently dismounted to kneel on the ground with eyes closed in solemn divination. Yet, always he affirmed that they were still on the proper path of their quarry and that it led more or less straight toward the plateau. This they reached before mid-morn and into one of the countless defiles sculpted into the escarpment they were led.
      They were now in a narrow passage formed naturally over millennia by the action of water flowing down off of the raised land. Many elegant patterns were carved thus into the red sandstone. Overhead they could see the sunlit sky, yet they were in a tunnel of stone with sheer walls that would permit no movement except that which followed in the track of the ravine. This occasionally forked and branched and quite often snaked round in a winding path, so that Raavan now took frequent stops to dismount and perform his orienting ritual.
      Around midday the path of the codex became too weak to accurately discern, and Raavan led them up an ascending track to the top of the Cérron where he hoped to move about more freely and reacquire the trace. After wandering for a time Raavan indicated that he had definitely found it. But the aura came from the bottom of a ravine into which they could find no way of descending. Though they searched this way and that, no safe descent could they find.
      In the early afternoon a sandstorm suddenly whipped up out of nowhere and now they had to find shelter, for the stinging sand was whipped mercilessly into their faces and found its way into their eyes and up their nostrils. They were not used to this at all and they wandered blindly about till they simply gave up. Dismounting, they huddled together against a rock outcropping and wrapped the tarpaulin about them.
      The sandstorm showed no signs of letting up. The wind howled and everywhere the air was thick with flying sand. When several of the ponies began to wander away Alatar and Falco ventured along the low bluff to retrieve them. As they felt along in the blind stir they recognised the shape of a doorway set into the stone. At first they could not open the door, but they brought Burak to the portal with this axe and the Dwarf soon had chopped the door down. They all stumbled gratefully inside then, bringing even the steeds with them.
      When they had lighted a torch they saw that they were in a modest chamber hewn directly out of the sandstone, though Burak informed them that this was clearly not the work of Dwarves. Many bones lay scattered about. In the back of the chamber they found a staircase winding down into the darkness.
      Their only goal had been to wait out the storm and then continue on their way, but their curiosity got the better of them and soon they were descending the stairway to see what could be found below. They soon found themselves in another chamber, this one also with heaps of bones and what appeared to be a crude altar.
      Upon inspecting the altar and the faded runes which were carved rudely into it Raavan concluded that this was likely a temple for one of the obscure tribes which had been known to live in Malindor in times past and which had made a practise of offering human sacrifices to the dark god Úvar. Though all such peoples were thought to have been extirpated long ago the traces of dried blood which they found and also the fresh appearance of many of the bones scattered about told otherwise.
      They waited only some thirty minutes more before the storm blew itself out and they were able finally to venture forth from the mysterious temple. They now headed south, for Raavan had given up trying to find a way down into the ravine from which the aura of the codex emanated. Instead he decided they should ride clockwise round the Cérron till they picked up Nostaite’s trail again. This he was sure they would do, for the sorcerer’s final destination was now strongly presumed to be Tath and so he would have needed to emerge from the Cérron eventually.
      In time they found their way down again onto the lowlands of Malindor and they rode west with the steep escarpment towering up on their right. The Cérron was one hundred and fifty miles long and though they had ridden nearly three-quarters the length of it, it was already late afternoon by the time they had descended from the plateau. When darkness fell they still had not rounded the western edge of this most singular landform.
      Because they had lost time wandering about on the Cérron they decided to continue riding on after dark. They had not gone far when they began to hear the sound of hooves just ahead. The company had not yet lit torches and Raavan bade them not to do so. They moved quickly into a small cleft in the sheer cliff to their right and there they waited for the unseen party to pass.
      They did not wait long. Not far from the cliff wall they could see dark figures riding by. From the gait of their steeds the watchers determined that the beasts almost certainly were not horses. In all likelihood the riders had been Daonracht-mounted Goblyns, but it was simply too dark to be sure.
      After that they decided it was best not to travel in the dark and so they camped right where they were, making no campfire for fear of unfriendly eyes. That night during Talen’s watch he heard another mounted party ride by, smaller by the sound of it, but too distant to see.
      The next day they arose at the crack of dawn and rode off again toward the east just as soon as they had all downed a Melimbar and drunk some of the water which they had brought from the Fountain of Tirindor. They rounded the western end of the Cérron that morning, and soon thereafter Raavan again picked up the trace of the codex. Due west it had gone, and so did they.
      Around noon the trail turned north-east and they followed diligently after it. Raavan indicated that the aura had become strong once again, suggesting that Nostaite had passed that way recently; perhaps within the last day.
      That night they were forced to camp out in the open. Raavan decided that it would be best to light a fire, for if they were assailed in the night by spawn wandering down from Tath they would at least need to see their assailants in order to defend themselves. This suited the Elflings fine, as they had that day shot a few more coney and were now able to cook them.
      They had only just finished their meal and were cleaning up when the sound of galloping hooves came to them from the night. The Elflings had precious few arrows left, but these they nocked as blades were drawn by the other members of the party. All round the campfire they stood facing the dark surrounds.
      The attack came swiftly, and it was no minor scuffle in which they soon found themselves embroiled. Goblyns aplenty assaulted them out of the darkness mounted high on their scaled steeds. The Elflings dropped several of the beasts with their last arrows and then were forced to draw their swords. Raavan was grateful to have Fheoir in his possession again, for the sword fit his hands better than did Noromendor.
      The mounted Goblyns were far too tall for the Elflings to fight effectively, but their Daonracht were not. They took to cutting out the mounts from beneath the foul riders, a strategy which had proved highly effective in Ilimath. It was by no means easy, however, for the Daonracht were equipped with sharp fangs and they could also deliver a well-aimed kick to the unwary adversary that was capable of severely cracking a skull.
      The fight raged on for some time, yet finally the foe were defeated. Fourteen Goblyns and as many Daonracht lay strewn about the periphery of the camp, oozing their black ichor and filling nostrils with a sickening stench. After that there was some talk of extinguishing the fire and moving the camp to some dark hiding place where they would be unlikely to be discovered. But as none could guarantee that such a safe shelter could be found in that flat, open part of the desert they decided in the end to lie with their heads toward the fire and weapons fully drawn, and with two pairs of eyes on guard through the night.
      When they arose the morning next none had any appetite for breakfast till they were able to leave the stench of the slain monsters behind. Northeast they continued and around noon they came to the northern end of another escarpment which stretched for many miles toward the south-west. Alatar informed the company that this was the Tere, a tall bluff which separated the desert of Malindor from the dark forest of Druadaneth.
      They would now be passing through Enediad, the strip of land which separated Malindor from Tath. This stretch of land extended from the northern edge of the Tere north-east till it reached the Tiúlmere, a large lake lying between the southernmost extents of Tath and Tolor. Once through Enediad they would then pass into Tath, where the Deathlord Silgoth dwelled, though his abode was yet far to the north in Hélethrôn. That was the last place any of them wanted to go, yet as the codex had gone that way they must also in order to prevent it from falling into the hands of the Deathlord.
      They continued following a north-easterly track. A wall of black clouds moved in and it began to thunder, though as yet no rain had begun to fall. In early afternoon they encountered a band of eight or ten Troells on foot led by a single Goblyn. These they dispatched with relative ease, but soon thereafter the rain came down in thick sheets and not far ahead they espied another band of spawn, consisting this time of Ghakhen and Troells.
      The Elflings saw that a Ghakh was indeed a formidable opponent, for they were large and very strong, though Alatar informed them that this opponent was not nearly as proficient with weaponry as was the Goblyn. This band was readily avoided by simply riding out of their way, but soon other groups of spawn were found roving about and as the track of the codex turned north their encounters with the foe became ever more common.
      Now they were beginning to meet more and more of the mounted Goblyns, and these often were accompanied by large bands of Ghakhen and Troells on foot. It soon became abundantly clear that their northward journey would be made only at great expense of effort and at considerable risk to life and limb, for now they were almost continuously engaged with the enemy, and when they were not fighting the foe they were fleeing from them. Indeed, Raavan could no longer even track the codex, for there were too many distractions and diversions from the main trail. At length he finally admitted defeat.
      ‘There is now nothing more we can do,’ said the wizard, turning the company back round toward the south. ‘The codex has passed beyond our ability to retrieve it. The trail is now at least a day old, and in another day it will certainly have reached Silgoth, if it has not already done so.’
      ‘Will we simply give in, then?’ asked Talen. ‘There must be something we can do.’
      The wizard replied, ‘No, we will not give in. Nay, it is now that we must sound the alarm, for the muster of the Allies to oppose Silgoth must begin in earnest, and it is up to us to insure that this happens as quickly as ever may be. We will return with what armies we can gather, and then we will face the new Deathlord, ill-prepared though the free world may be for such a confrontation. But at this point it is our only hope. Let us pray that our hope is not in vain.’