Chapter 6

T hey decided to keep a constant watch that night, after all the talk of Gargoyles molesting cattle in the night.
      ‘Do you think it was really Gargoyles, Raavan?’ asked Talen, ‘—that killed Aggley’s cow, I mean.’
      ‘He said his neighbour saw them,’ Falco insisted.
      ‘I think it is possible,’ replied the wizard. ‘I have met this neighbour of his—Brockle—though it was many years ago; and I’ve no idea whether he is a reliable observer. How he could be familiar with Gargoyles I also do not know, since they have not been common in these parts for thousands of years. But it is difficult to imagine what he could have mistaken for the foul beasts. I would think that he would know a wolf were he to see one, as any farmer should. But imaginations can run wild in the night, especially in a threatening situation. Minds have a wonderful way of filling in the gaps between what we can see with our own two eyes in the flickering torch light, but sometimes they do get carried away. Superstition is ever at the ready to take over where the facts leave off.’
      ‘But supposing they were Gargoyles, what are we to do then?’ asked Fifin as he glanced apprehensively into the night.
      ‘I recommend going to sleep,’ said the wizard. And with that he spread out his bedroll and lay down at the edge of the firelight. Before long the others had joined him, all except for Falco, who volunteered for the first watch. Talen soon found, however, that he could not sleep and so he decided to keep watch with Falco for a bit. The two sat together poking at the fire with the many small twigs and branches they found lying about and speaking very softly to avoid waking the others.
      ‘I must say, Talen, I think it’s pretty clear that we have stumbled onto something much grander than the extended holiday we had in mind,’ said Falco.
      ‘I know,’ agreed Talen, ‘and I am not sure that we should involve ourselves too deeply in it.’
      ‘What do you mean?’ said Falco. ‘This is our chance! We had all been hoping to find adventure and intrigue: well, this is it! I do not think our journey will end at Aberlaven, either. I expect that soon enough Raavan will be off to battle the Deathlords of Hélethrôn, and I intend to join him. Anyway, he is going to need us. Everyone knows that Elflings are the best archers in the world!’ At this, Falco took up his bow and began to check the stringing.
      ‘I don’t know,’ said Talen. ‘I think these are matters above us, Falco. Small people who try to run with giants are likely to get trampled under foot.’
      ‘Nonsense!’ Falco replied. ‘Remember what Raavan said up on the hill: even Elflings have played their part in the Great Wars of the past. If there is to be another Great War then I want to play my part. Anyway, I think it is our destiny. Why else did we meet the old man on his way to Aberlaven? We were guided there by the hand of fate, so that Raavan would find us when he passed by, just as he found that sword Noromendor. You heard what the old man said: it is not our place to question these things—there are higher powers at work in the world . I agree with the old man.’
      Talen was not convinced, however, and after whittling for a while on a half burnt branch with his pocket knife he decided he should try to get some sleep. ‘Wake me when you have finished your watch,’ he said as he went off to prepare his bedding.
      As he lay at the edge of the firelight listening to the soft night-noises Talen went over in his mind the conversation with Falco. Although he had courage enough to follow Raavan himself Talen feared for the safety of the other Elflings, particularly the cousins. Not only were they younger and smaller than he and Falco, but they had clearly shown a propensity for getting themselves into trouble. As he turned these matters over in his mind he soon fell asleep, and he slept soundly until Falco woke him for his turn at watch.
      ‘Nothing unusual so far,’ said Falco as he bedded down.
      ‘No Gargoyles, then?’ asked Talen.
      ‘No,’ Falco replied, ‘—and too bad, too. I’ve not yet shot a single arrow on this trip. Before long I shall be in dire need of practise.’
      ‘I am sure your aim is deadly as ever,’ Talen assured him. ‘Anyway, I will certainly wake you should anything that requires killing pop up in the night.’
      ‘O, would you please?’ laughed Falco as he laid down and covered his eyes with his hood.
      ‘Of course I will,’ said Talen softly. ‘Now get some sleep.’
      Talen’s shift passed quietly enough and nothing terrible did pop up, though he did hear some rather strange noises off to the north-east near the end of his watch. It sounded to Talen almost like the howling of wolves, though with a high-pitched plaintive whining mixed into it. Nothing came of it, however, and soon he was waking Dannadar and retiring for the night.
      In the morning they quickly struck the camp and began the ascent up into the mountains. The road wound considerably as it snaked its way upward, and soon it was flanked by trees of various types: oak, chestnut, alder, spruce and hemlock. As they rose in elevation the composition of the forest changed imperceptibly, so that they almost did not notice when they had left most of the broad-leafed trees behind to be replaced increasingly by conifers.
      ‘Are we going to climb all the way to the top?’ asked Fifin, who was feeling very sorry for the poor ponies who were toiling to bring them all up the steep mountainside.
      ‘Aberlaven sits atop one of these peaks,’ said Raavan, ‘but not the highest—not by a long shot. And the ascent is not this steep the whole way. It levels out quite a bit over the next mile or two, and from then on the rise will be rather more gradual. In all, we will be travelling only a short way into the Seawall Mountains.’
      ‘Will we be able to view the sea from Aberlaven?’ asked Dannadar, echoing the thoughts of the other Elflings. None of them had ever journeyed to the sea, but all had heard tales of others who had. Many legends of the sea were told in Laurelindor, and these the Elflings turned over in their minds as they travelled ever closer to it.
      ‘I am afraid not,’ answered Raavan. ‘It is many miles yet through the mountains and then on through the southern margins of Arenya before one reaches the Great Sea. This road will take you there if you follow it all the way to its end, but it is not an easy road, not by any stretch. Rock slides sometimes bar the way, requiring many hours of hard labour to clear, and avalanches have been known to sweep travellers clean off the trail to their deaths.’
      After that the Elflings were more watchful as they journeyed higher up into the mountains, though when Raavan noticed this he assured them that rock slides were relatively rare on this portion of the road, and were really only a danger when one ventured much further into the mountains.
      An hour or so before noon the road levelled off considerably and soon they began to catch glimpses of several large buildings through the trees. A moment later they emerged from the forest and saw that the buildings were rather large and were very splendidly architected.
      ‘My friends,’ said Raavan, ‘welcome to Aberlaven.’
      ‘It is very pretty,’ said Fifin.
      ‘Impressive,’ said Dannadar.
      ‘It is a place with a deep history,’ said Raavan, ‘which I hope to share with you someday. For now, however, let us stable the ponies and make sure they are well fed. They have served us very well these past days, and deserve a comfortable break. I am sure Thobb will make them happy.’
      When they arrived at the stable a chubby boy of sixteen came out to help them. ‘Hello, Master Raavan. Hope you’re doin’ well, Sir.’
      ‘Doing fine, lad,’ Raavan replied. ‘And I trust you are doing well, yourself, Thobb?’
      ‘Never better, Sir,’ Thobb replied as he led their steeds into the stable. ‘Your ponies look as though they could use a bit o’ rest, Sir.’
      ‘That they could, young Thobb,’ said Raavan. ‘These beasts have earned a nice holiday. I think a good rub-down and a brushing are in order as well.’
      ‘I’ll take good care of ’em, Sir,’ replied Thobb.
      ‘That’s my boy,’ said Raavan.
      Leaving the stable they followed a footpath round a neatly trimmed line of bushes and up a small, grassy hillside dotted yellow with spring daisies. Now the path was lined with stone, and they could see that it led toward the main courtyard. As they approached they saw that the courtyard was flanked by two very large buildings: one of white marble and exceptionally ornate, with many arched windows and doors, and great columns and buttresses, and the other somewhat less ornamented than the first, being of an earthy granite and lacking the bold architecture, but still very impressive to see due to its size.
      Up a flight of stone steps Raavan led them, to where the main courtyard began. The courtyard was fully as intricate as either of the two buildings, being regularly interrupted by many flower gardens and with a smaller number of marble statues placed in what seemed a purely random fashion. The statues were of men, all with noble faces and fine appointments. There were many engravings in the stone on which they walked, some quite flowery and purely decorative, but others with runes and carvings of various types.
      ‘This place is spectacular,’ noted Dannadar, whose only disappointment was in having such difficulty deciding which way to look, for in every direction there was something interesting to see: from the exotic flowers that grew there in the gardens, to the exquisite artwork that graced the courtyard, to the grand mountain scenery that surrounded all.
      ‘Yes, it is rather nice,’ replied Raavan, ‘though the original designers had something of a sense of humour, as you can see from this courtyard.’
      ‘How is that?’ asked Talen.
      ‘The gardens and the statues,’ replied the wizard with a sweeping gesture: ‘Nature in perfect order, and men in disarray. See?’
      ‘Ah, yes,’ said Falco without laughing. Then he whispered quietly to Talen: ‘That must be a wizard joke.’
      They approached the white building on the right and entered through a pair of enormous doors that swung neatly outward when Raavan pulled on the brass handles. Inside, the building was even more impressive, for the floor was of polished marble, alternately black and white laid in a precise checkered pattern. There were marble columns supporting the ceiling and two sets of wide marble stairs, one set to their left, and one to their right, both leading upward. Shiny brass lanterns depended from the ceiling on long brass chains, and on the two side walls hung enormous tapestries adorned with the most intricately depicted scenes and annotated copiously with strange lettering.
      Most impressive of all, however, was to be seen straight ahead, for past the stairs and the tapestries, through a large open doorway could be seen aisle after aisle of heavily laden bookcases stretching up fully to the ceiling (which was very high for a single storey). The aisles seemed to go on for nearly the full length of the building, so that the total number of books housed in this enormous library must have been staggering indeed.
      Up the left stairway Raavan led them, round the corner, and up yet more stairs till the left and right staircases met at a short landing on the second floor. The landing led through a doorway and thence down a single step to leave them in the wide central hallway which ran down the length of the building. The air up here was very hazy, and there was an acrid smell of smoke. Down the hallway they went and many doors could they see opening alternatively on the left and the right, some open, but most of them closed. Past several of these Raavan led them before finally stepping up to an open door out of which there now billowed thick clouds of black smoke.
      ‘Erieth!’ Raavan called through the open doorway, but he did not venture over the threshold. The old man crouched in the doorway to keep his head out of the black cloud that was forming there. ‘Erieth! I say, old chap, are you all right in there?’
      ‘Yes indeed, (cough), everything is under control, (cough, cough), welcome back, Raavan!’ came the voice from the room. Yet, who was the speaker they could not see, for the smoke obscured all sight into the room and even stung their eyes though they stood away from the door. Raavan led them quickly away from the reek.
      ‘Raavan!’ cried Talen when they had withdrawn a safe distance, ‘ought we not to lend a hand in there? Surely there is something amiss!’
      ‘No, Erieth has everything under control,’ replied the wizard with complete confidence, which of course only deepened the Elflings’ bafflement.
      ‘But Raavan,’ protested Talen, ‘smoke is pouring from that room!’
      ‘Smoke is always pouring out of Erieth’s laboratory,’ Raavan assured the concerned Elfling. ‘Be thankful it is just an ordinary smoke this time. Last time it was a thick green haze which clouded all of the second floor for weeks, and stank terribly.’
      On down the hallway Raavan led them till they had come to another open door (this one with no smoke pouring out, thankfully). When they stepped inside they were confronted with a vastly intricate system of pipettes, beakers, flasks, and other glassware. Variously coloured liquids were flowing, dripping, and bubbling their way from tube to tube, swirling and steaming and sometimes abruptly changing colour, or having been transformed into a wispy, white steam were then dissipated invisibly into the air.
      Lining the walls were many jugs and vats, some open and obviously filled with unidentifiable substances, others closed tight with large wax stoppers and marked with the skull and crossbones. There were all sorts of metal braces and couplings lying helter-skelter about the laboratory, and also stacks of books and papers, though these latter were mainly confined to the table at the far end of the room.
      At that table stood two old men, one with thick, slate-coloured hair and large, round spectacles. The other had shiny silver hair and rather slimmer reading glasses that sat well down on his long, beak-like nose. Both had long, bushy beards that reached nearly to their waists.
      So engrossed were they in their work that the two old men did not at first notice that the company had entered the room. As Raavan approached the table with the Elflings following at a polite distance the old men finally looked up. With a smile the silver-bearded man removed the pipe from his mouth and motioned for the company to come round the table to where he and the other man stood.
      ‘Brother Raavan! Good of you to come,’ he said. ‘And at just the right time: Brother Ruthos has just completed some stunning work. You really must see this!’
      ‘First allow me to introduce my newest friends,’ said Raavan, motioning for the Elflings to step closer. ‘This is Talen Featherby, here is Falco Whiteleaf, the small one is Fifin Frothmaster and that is Dannadar Hawksbill. All are from Laurelindor.’
      The silver-bearded gentleman welcomed them warmly, extending a hand in greeting. The other old man nodded his head and grunted, but spoke no words, and on his face he wore a frown which appeared as though it may be a permanent feature of his countenance.
      ‘I am Alarus,’ said the silver-bearded wizard, who wore a red cloak that looked very old, though also very well taken care of, ‘and this gloomy fellow over here is Ruthos.’ Ruthos again nodded and grunted, and the Elflings could see that he was indeed a very gloomy-looking fellow, with an appearance that suggested brooding storm clouds. His exceptionally thick eyebrows nearly rendered him half blind by occluding the topmost portions of his eyes, and he wore a pointed black hat which they rightly guessed was rarely removed from his head.
      ‘Now, Raavan: you must see what Brother Ruthos has accomplished,’ said Alarus, motioning Raavan closer to the table. There a glass tube slowly dripped a pasty, brown substance into a bowl. ‘He has finally succeeded at transforming gold into mud!’
      ‘How remarkable!’ exclaimed Raavan, though the quick glance he threw to the Elflings suggested that he found the notion every bit as ridiculous as they.
      ‘Gold into mud?’ whispered Falco into Talen’s ear as the old men talked excitedly among themselves. ‘That cannot possibly be useful.’
      ‘It is a stunning achievement,’ Raavan was saying to Ruthos, who in turn grunted and managed almost to turn his frown into a half smile, though it clearly required great effort on his part to do so. ‘Brilliant, old boy,’ Raavan went on. ‘Now, Brother Alarus: perhaps we could speak of recent developments regarding the codex?’
      ‘O, of course,’ said Alarus in the absent minded way that the Elflings were beginning to expect from these old men well past their prime. ‘Ruthos, will you excuse us? We really must be getting to business. Outstanding work, my friend.’
      Once again they proceeded down the still smoky hallway, past several closed doors (but no more open ones) until they had come exactly halfway down the length of the building. Here the hallway narrowed abruptly as both walls arched inward in a semicircular path to form a protuberance on either side. In the centre of each was a very sturdy-looking door with large metal hinges and a gaping keyhole.
      Up to the door on the left they were led, and out of his coat pocket Alarus produced a large brass key which he then inserted into the keyhole. With a loud clanking turn of the key Alarus unlocked the heavy door. A quick turn of the doorknob and the door swung inward with a creak. Following the silver-bearded wizard they all entered the round chamber.
      It was a very curious room, the Elflings thought, for whereas Ruthos’ laboratory had been rather untidy with its many tools and reagents and so forth lying loose about the floor and strewn on the many tables and shelves, Alarus’ study was exceedingly orderly, with very little furniture or indeed much else in the room and virtually no dust to be found anywhere.
      The room itself was symmetrical, being in the shape of an oval with a small, arched alcove directly opposite the entrance. Within this tight space stood a pedestal on which rested a large tome lit from behind by a fancy candelabrum containing eight candles, which had burned about halfway down. The book lay open, and on the pages in the flickering candle-light they could see a rude-looking script written in a scrawling hand. Interspersed with the writing were several figures, one of which appeared to depict a ceremony conducted by hooded ghostlike creatures in a great circular chamber.
      In the middle of Alarus’ study was a fine wooden table surrounded by several very comfortable chairs. On the table were a number of neatly organised stacks of books and scrolls, some rolled up and bound in the middle with a strand of twine; others were laid out flat across the table, suggesting that they were just in the process of being read or perhaps had been left out for their ink to dry. A quill and inkhorn were there also.
      Alarus bade the Elflings have a seat at the table while he and Raavan crowded round the tome in the alcove and began to discuss wizardly matters. Though they tried with great effort to follow the learned discourse the Elflings soon found that they were able to catch very little of what was said, so softly did the wizards speak, and using such arcane language.
      Airi, meanwhile, had found a worthy subject for his own attentions. Upon a wooden dowel mounted high above the door was another owl much like himself, but lighter in colour and with slightly smaller ear-tufts. Next to this other bird Airi perched, and immediately he launched himself into a long, drawn-out performance which involved much bowing and snapping of the beak. He appeared to be very enamoured indeed.
      ‘I think Airi has found a friend!’ said Fifin observing the love-stricken owl at his work.
      ‘I am not sure she has yielded her favour to him just yet,’ said Falco. ‘She does not appear entirely convinced of his good intentions.’
      ‘I do not see how she could remain doubtful for very long—he is most insistent,’ observed Fifin.
      ‘I just wonder how many times they have been through this ritual,’ said Falco. ‘Surely, they have met before. She must belong to Alarus.’
      ‘Well, I think Airi is a very fine bird, and any hen stubborn enough to resist him is just plain foolish,’ said Fifin.
      Airi apparently agreed with this last declaration, for at that moment he began a series of quick hoots delivered with characteristic intensity and rising steadily in pitch and volume.
      ‘Airi!’ Raavan yelled at the bird. ‘Will you please behave?’
      But Airi seemed to take no notice of the reprimand, or very little, anyway, for he soon continued his courtship with renewed intensity. His bows became deeper and his hoots louder, but the female was not impressed, and when he inched too close on the perch she simply dropped from the pole and flew out the door. Airi of course followed her and after they left it was much quieter in Alarus’ study.
      Soon the Elflings were looking for other entertainment. They could make no sense of the books and parchments that they found stacked upon the table, so they began to listen more intently to the wizards at their work.
      Alarus was reading in a strange language, line by line, giving a translation after each:
       
      ‘Ix os alefie, sieihf slizei iid fidi theizner,
      I am come, third demon of the netherworld.
       
      ‘Niw iu skekke iid fidi izelehisi keklsee Ix os,
      But a strand of the everlasting darkness I am.
       
      ‘Aks fidi ciieve apell al peddefala,
      Let the voices howl in desperation.
       
      ‘Pele woell neggepha iid zleep llo Ix alefie niff ejem,
      With great gnashing of teeth do I come upon thee.’
       
      ‘Well, that sounds pleasant,’ said Dannadar, realising only too late that he had spoken too loudly and was standing too close not to interrupt the wizards’ train of thought.
      Raavan turned round and saw that the Elflings were crowded closely about him. He looked briefly at them, and then without a word he walked to the door and pulled twice on a rope which had previously gone unnoticed hanging from the ceiling.
      The wizards then went back to work, ignoring the Elflings entirely, and it became very tedious indeed to listen to them. After several minutes, however, there appeared a most curious looking figure in the doorway. He was bent over slightly, his long arms hanging down from uneven shoulders, and they could see that he had a large lump in his back on the right-hand side.
      ‘You rang, Master Alarus?’ said the disfigured man in a dull, slurring voice. He was rubbing his filthy, fat-fingered hands together and staring at the Elflings and the wizards with large, bulging eyes. His thick tongue continually licked his cracked, blackened lips, and when he spoke they could see that his teeth were not only horribly discoloured with grime, but they also were so irregularly shaped and spaced that they looked very much like tombstones in an ancient graveyard that had undergone years of weathering and shifting of the land.
      ‘Cilukar,’ said Raavan to the hunch-backed servant, ‘perhaps you could fix some lunch for my little friends here.’
      ‘Of course, Master,’ said the filthy man.
      Raavan continued, ‘Please show them to my study. They can take their lunch and rest in there. I will be down to check up on them after a time.’
      ‘Yes, Master,’ replied Cilukar.
      The Elflings were only too happy to take lunch, as it was just at that time passing the noon hour and they were finding Alarus’ study to be rather tedious. They were, however, somewhat hesitant to follow the deformed servant, having never seen the like of him before.
      Deformed though he was, Cilukar was quick on his feet and he led them rapidly down the hallway to a closed door on the right. When he reached the door he pulled out of his dirty pocket a massive ring with many keys, which clanged loudly in the roomy passage. As he searched for the proper key, mumbling to himself all the while, the Elflings gathered round the bent figure, and it was then that they noticed how terribly he stank.
      He soon had the door unlocked and was opening it for them. As they filed into the room Cilukar hobbled quickly off, back up the hallway without so much as a word of parting, though as he turned to leave he continued to lick his disgusting lips, and his heavy breathing and occasional grimace gave them the distinct impression that he was quite distracted with some other matter. They were not unhappy to see him go.
      The chamber into which they had been led was quite different from the others they had seen. The entire room, including the walls and ceiling, was covered with wood panelwork, and the carpeted floor was of wood also. On the wall opposite the door hung a pair of great swords which were mounted in crosswise fashion behind a shield painted with a golden, winged creature that had a fierce-looking, catlike face. On either side of this hung what appeared to be wooden ceremonial masks of some sort. The Elflings had seen masks before, but these were very strange, with wide frowning mouths and queer, slanted eyes.
      There were many shelves and small tables around the periphery of the room, and at one end of the study near a very large window was a fine desk with a leather chair. The desk was piled high with old, dusty tomes and various writing implements. In the centre of the room was a very comfortable-looking couch.
      All of the shelves and tables were littered with curiosities of one type or another, some of them very peculiar indeed. On a shelf near the door they were not altogether surprised to find something that nevertheless excited them very much: a large, crystal ball. Of course they all were familiar with the stories regarding magic crystal balls that can tell the future and produce visions of events both remote and secret. No matter how long they gazed into the ball, however, no visions seemed to be forthcoming, so they continued walking about the room looking carefully at every little thing lest any other magical artefacts that may be lying about be overlooked in their haste to explore.
      They found many books and scrolls; tattered maps with notes scribbled into the margins; sculptures of various fantastical creatures; bottles of wine and several smaller flasks which they did not open; an old-looking horn with intricate decorations round the bell and a gold-inlaid inscription; a silver medallion on a finely wrought silver chain; various boxes and pouches that they dared not open for fear of angering Raavan; a glass prism that shone light of different colours when held up to the window; an hourglass containing a fine, golden sand that continually ran down yet was somehow never exhausted; a pendulum that likewise swung perpetually back and forth with no apparent driving force; and many other contrivances and devices that they could neither name nor identify their purpose.
      In all, it was more like a museum than a private study and at first they walked about looking everything over with great interest and yet showing great discipline by touching very little of what they saw.
      Eventually Cilukar brought them lunch in a large wicker basket, which he set down on a table before the couch. The Elflings did not speak to him when he entered, and he left as quickly and silently as he had arrived. They all sat on the couch together and ate the bread and strips of dried meat which had been brought to them. The bread was very soft and fresh and they covered it generously with the thick butter they found in a small bowl inside the basket. Cilukar had also left a large bottle of red wine and four ceramic cups in which to drink it. The wine was an ordinary table wine, which they drank gratefully, for they had all grown quite thirsty in the warm dryness of Raavan’s study. As they enjoyed the simple meal they continued to speak of the many strange things that decorated Raavan’s study, and of the curious butler of Aberlaven.
      ‘Well, I for one think Cilukar is a capital fellow,’ said Dannadar, sitting back and patting his full stomach.
      ‘Why? Just because he brought us lunch?’ scoffed Falco.
      ‘Precisely,’ replied Dannadar, who now was lying back on the couch with his legs up on the table and his eyes closed.
      ‘He brought lunch only because Raavan instructed him to do so,’ said Falco. ‘I still think he is a very suspicious character. That said, I am grateful for the wine—it is awfully dry in here.’ With that, he drained his cup for the second time.
      ‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Fifin, who did. Talen also joined them in their appreciation of the drink by pouring himself another cup of the fruity beverage. It was fairly strong for a mere table wine and they all began to feel quite relaxed because of it. The four of them leant way back on the soft couch and talked quietly of simple things while resting their weary eyes. Before long the talk was replaced by the soft sounds of relaxed breathing interspersed with an occasional snore. They had all fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber, as one is wont to do after a good lunch and a draught of liquor. Half an hour went by and still they slept, for it was quiet in Raavan’s study, and rather stuffy.
      Falco was the first to stir. As he opened his eyes and mouthed a yawn he saw a blurry figure moving slowly toward the door. He rubbed his eyes and then saw clearly that it was Cilukar sneaking very deliberately from the room. Falco’s suspicion was immediately roused and as Cilukar disappeared into the hallway the Elfling silently rose and tiptoed toward the door. Upon reaching it he glanced back toward the couch where the others still slept. He did not rouse them, for he wished to avoid making any noise that might alert Cilukar to his own wakefulness.
      He now peered very carefully out into the hallway and there he saw the disfigured servant lurking very stealthily, walking in measured paces toward Alarus’ study. When Cilukar reached the protruding doorway at mid-passage he stopped, put his large ear to the partially opened door, and stood very still for several minutes.
      He is eavesdropping , thought Falco to himself. Now I definitely do not trust him . After several minutes more he saw Cilukar move carefully away from the door and continue sneaking up the hallway. When he reached the stairs at the far end he descended out of sight.
      ‘I wonder what that was all about,’ said Falco to himself as he turned back from the doorway. As he was turning round, however, he accidentally bumped into a small statuette on a shelf next to the door. The stone statue fell over with a crack ! and awoke the other Elflings all at once.
      ‘What was that?’ cried Dannadar jumping up suddenly and reaching for his bow, which he had set leaning against the table by the couch. The others looked up in sleepy surprise to see Falco righting the fallen item.
      ‘Booby! You’ve ruined a perfectly good nap,’ complained Fifin, who then moved further down the long couch in order to stretch himself out more fully upon it. Dannadar set his bow against the table again when he saw there was no danger, and back down he sat sleepy-eyed and yawning. Talen just turned over and buried his head beneath a pillow.
      ‘That Cilukar has been slinking around here in the most suspicious way,’ said Falco. ‘I just caught him eavesdropping on Raavan and Alarus. Downright thievish, he seemed.’
      ‘Well, I cannot really blame him for eavesdropping,’ said Dannadar. ‘We are all very curious about Raavan’s mysterious business. I am thinking that maybe we should go down there and spy on Raavan ourselves.’ He then rose and walked over to a closed wooden cabinet that had previously escaped their attention.
      ‘Are you kidding?’ Fifin exclaimed. ‘Not after what happened the last time we tried sneaking up on a pair of wizards. I still cannot believe we did not all get turned into wild boars, or hippopotamuses.’
      ‘I am sure that Raavan will share the details of his business here when he is good and ready,’ said Talen, who had by now taken his head out from beneath the pillow and was finally starting to return to his senses.
      ‘Yes, and in the mean time, we should finish our exploration of this place,’ said Dannadar, who with some difficulty had figured out how to open the cabinet which he had been eagerly inspecting. Soon he was fondling a jewel-encrusted sceptre that he had drawn from within.
      ‘It is obvious what Raavan is doing here,’ Falco said, ignoring Dannadar completely. ‘Alarus is trying to decipher a magical book—a codex —which Raavan believes he can use against a necromancer named Silgoth who is breeding a horde of monsters in the West.’ The other Elflings looked at Falco in surprise. Fifin blinked.
      ‘Were none of you listening at Ferrymore?’ continued Falco. ‘Raavan spoke of a codex and some special power that it might have over an enemy named Silgoth. He and the other wizards here at Aberlaven are planning to stop this servant of Úvar before Entira is forced into another Great War like the one against Omenaton.’ The others continued to stare blankly at Falco.
      ‘O, come now!’ said Falco impatiently. ‘If you have not been catching the dark hints that Raavan has been dropping then you are all just being obtuse. It is plainly obvious that something very momentous is about to occur. I think a new chapter of history is in the process of being written.’
      ‘Well, perhaps the rest of us are a bit more apprehensive about what that chapter might hold,’ said Talen. ‘Even Raavan is not eager to rush into war.’
      ‘But that is precisely the point!’ exclaimed an exasperated Falco. ‘Raavan and his brotherhood of wizards are trying to devise the means for averting war. With our help, hopefully they will be able to destroy this Silgoth fellow before war becomes necessary.’
      ‘Well, if Raavan does need our help, then I think we owe it to him,’ said Fifin.
      ‘I sure can’t argue with that,’ said Dannadar, who was now holding a man’s skull in his hand—another artefact which he had pulled from the cabinet. He replaced the skull very carefully and then continued rummaging through Raavan’s belongings.
      ‘I cannot imagine that a clan of wizards would depend on us for help in matters such as this,’ said Talen. ‘We are barely able to look after ourselves in the wild, and that with no Dragons or sorcerers trying to annihilate us at every step.’
      ‘But if we can help in any way to avert a terrible war, then we should do everything in our power to do so—for the sake of all our kith and kin back home,’ said Fifin. ‘I sure would not want my little brothers to have to go forth into battle because we did not help Raavan when we had the chance.’
      ‘Well said!’ exclaimed Dannadar, who had now moved on to investigating an old chest that was sitting in a dark corner of the room. The chest was locked, but he had found a small iron key sitting on a shelf next to the chest and was just then examining the keyhole to see whether it might be a fit.
      ‘What are you doing, Dan?’ asked Talen when turning round he noticed the younger Elfling fidgeting with the chest.
      ‘This sucker is locked, but I think I may have found its key right here,’ Dannadar replied.
      ‘You shouldn’t go poking around in Raavan’s private things,’ said Talen.
      ‘What do you mean?’ replied Dannadar incredulously. ‘We’ve been poking round all morning. And anyway, if he didn’t want us to see what’s in this chest he wouldn’t have left the key lying about.’ At that very moment there was a clicking sound as Dannadar turned the little key in the keyhole, and this was followed by a sudden metallic clack! as the latch on the lock flipped up into the open position. Dannadar looked back at the others, who all were watching the chest now in anticipation. He began then to lift the lid.
      Falco started to become very uneasy at that moment and he suddenly felt the urge to warn the younger Elfling against opening the mysterious box. ‘Dan, I think that perhaps you should not—’ he said, but he was interrupted before he could finish his sentence, for at that moment the chest lid burst fully open and the force of it was so strong that Dannadar was thrown well back from it, several feet at the least. From out of the chest there arose a terrible monster, Dragon-like and spectral, engulfed in a white-hot mist that seethed from the opening as if an enormous boiling lake of fire had been building up steam for a long time within. That the creature itself could have fit in the chest from which it sprang was surely inconceivable, growing as it did to such an immense size upon being freed from its humble prison.
      The creature roared so loudly that it shook the very walls, and the Elflings began to run toward the door as fast as their legs would carry them. They all tripped and fell one over another as they tried desperately to scramble through the door, but they dared not look back, so strong was the fear that gripped them.
      When they reached the hallway and had turned to run toward Alarus’ study they saw that Raavan and Alarus were likewise rushing down to meet them. When the two parties met Alarus checked on the Elflings as Raavan continued on toward his study. Seeing that they were unharmed Alarus continued then to follow after Raavan, who had by then disappeared into the room with the monster. The Elflings remained standing where they were, still too terror-stricken to move or speak. They watched as Alarus reached the door to Raavan’s study, where he stopped and watched with alarm the unseen events that were transpiring within.
      Behind them the Elflings could see that Ruthos also had been drawn from his laboratory, and several doors past him stood a robust figure with white hair and beard whom they later decided must have been Erieth, for he stood near the smoking doorway to which Raavan had earlier led them.
      Before very long the roaring stopped and a tired-looking Raavan emerged, apparently uninjured but sweating profusely and still breathing heavily from his sprint down the long passage. He exchanged several brief words with Alarus, who then motioned for the Elflings to come.
      ‘It is all right,’ said Alarus, when they had come closer. ‘The beast has been returned to his confinement.’
      ‘What was that thing?’ asked Falco as he peered round the corner into Raavan’s study to see that it was truly gone.
      ‘Kragh—and not a happy one,’ said Raavan, still out of breath.
      Alarus turned to the Elflings. ‘It was a Kragh: a type of Gothoron from the Úvani Plane. Fortunately, Raavan was able to contain it before it had fully transitioned. They are very difficult to catch once they have got loose.’
      ‘I can imagine,’ said Dannadar.
      ‘No, you can’t!’ said Raavan hotly. ‘I think you should all go downstairs and busy yourselves in the library,’ the old man went on, clearly irritated at having to confront the horrible monster that Dannadar had unleashed. ‘And no more mischief for today! I have some very important business to attend to now, and I will not be able to rescue you from any more trouble for the next several hours at least.’
      Of course, the Elflings felt very guilty at having inconvenienced the old man yet again. When the wizards had all returned to their work and the Elflings had gone a ways down the passage Dannadar was sorely chastised for his role in the unpleasant incident.
      ‘I doubt whether Raavan will wish to have our help now,’ said Fifin. ‘All we seem to be capable of doing is making trouble for the poor old fellow.’
      ‘Well, I honestly do not see how we could be of assistance anyhow,’ said Dannadar as they all descended the marble stairs to the first level. ‘I mean, what good are arrows against evil sorcerers and necromancers?’
      ‘Probably none,’ replied Falco, ‘but we’ve other weapons, too, remember.’
      ‘O?’ said Fifin. ‘And which are those?’
      ‘Courage, cunning, and determination,’ said Falco. ‘With these we can overcome anything.’