Chapter 11

Though the company departed at sunrise they had no way of knowing it, for not only did they awaken in windowless chambers deep within the mountain, but also their route was now to take them even deeper within the living earth before leading them out again. Guided by Meledrü the company rode some twenty miles through a rising and falling cavern that took them clear through the spur that thrust out from the line of the Yultauron range. In this way they saved themselves the trouble of riding south around the wide spur and then back toward the mountains again.
      When they emerged into the daylight they were greeted once again by heavily falling snow. The road took them down onto the plains below, where two feet of the white powder now covered the ground. Though their steeds were doing an admirable job of pushing their way through the stuff, the thickly falling flakes left no doubt as to Lady Winter’s mood—there would be even more for them to trudge through by nightfall, and there was nothing they could do about it.
      As Talen surveyed the snowy landscapes that passed by on either side he began to reflect on the tranquility that a simple snowstorm could bring down on the land. There was a simple joy in that quietude that even the heavy burden of his quest could not displace from his heart. Even were the allies to face defeat and annihilation, thought he, still the snow would fall in peace to cover the injuries of the land with its cold blanket of natural purity. Though none may remain to hear winter’s soothing silence, still the silence would remain, and that he had once lived and had felt that peace was a truth that no evil could erase.
      Talen spent much of the day riding in the wake of Raavan, Meledrü, and Berethir. Though he was not always able to follow their occasional bouts of dialogue, what he did hear he generally found to be of interest, for the Dwarf knew much concerning the mountains and their inhabitants. Many secrets were hid in those endless miles of rocky terrain—secrets dark and treacherous, or strange and wonderful, or simply queer beyond description. Though the Dwarves had lived among these mountains for thousands of years, still there were many things there yet unknown to them, or only partly known to them. And there were things of which they knew that they would have liked to be able to forget.
      Among those things were the Dragons, and though far worse terrors lurked in the deep places of the world than the winged serpents, still it was the Dragons who most sparked their ire, for no other adversary took so much pleasure in depriving them of their treasured gold.
      Stories were told by the Dwarves of Dragon lairs that were heaped with mountains of the stuff, yet so carefully did the beasts guard their stolen goods that only in the most exceptional cases had any of it ever been reclaimed. There were tales of works most splendidly wrought in the hands of expert craftsmen, masterful vestiges of greatness past, which now rest under the breast of some worm who hardly knew its worth. That the Dwarves were ever half-hearted in despising their reptilian enemy was a difficult notion to entertain.
      It was for this reason that Talen began to acquire a new respect for Burak and Meledrü, for much as it went against their most basic principles to do anything other than curse the beasts, still the twain deferred to Raavan in all ways regarding this matter. That aid would be sought from such a monster had been determined by their leader, and they followed their leader without question. Most remarkable was that such honour and faith were to be shown by one so new to the band, though it most likely reflected in greatest measure on Meledrü’s loyalty to his king.
      In late afternoon their course began to turn up from their south-westerly track as they followed the lay of the mountains. Soon the light had failed completely, though the snow came down unabated. They were fortunate to find a small cave at the very foot of the mount, and here they set to quickly building a fire, for all were chilled to the bone. Valainis saw to it that their efforts to raise the flame were not snuffed out by the damp weather, and before long all were enjoying the fruits of the Elf’s remarkable talent with wood.
      Chief among those fruits were the tender cubes of beef which Meledrü had brought along, for once they had been fired and were dripping with their flavoursome juice, all other imaginings of food quickly disappeared. The Dwarf had even been slipped a bottle of brandy, for his wife Maura worked in the kitchens, and the liquor, they found, was as warming within as the fire was without.
      After that they relaxed round the flames to watch the snowflakes falling outside.
      ‘If it continues like this we may have to tunnel our way out of this cave by tomorrow,’ said Raavan. ‘How far is Anwaith’s lair from here?’
      ‘Perhaps twenty-five miles’ replied Meledrü. ‘We should definitely reach it tomorrow.’
      ‘Wonderful,’ said Talen unenthusiastically.
      ‘Well, at least it should be warm inside the beast’s den,’ offered Burak. ‘I expect there will be a goodly fire going soon after you enter.’
      ‘Thank you so much, Burak,’ said Talen with mock consternation.
      ‘You have nothing to worry about,’ laughed the Dwarf. ‘You will be invisible again. It’s our good friend Raavan who will have to dodge the flames.’
      ‘Actually, this time I was thinking I would take you along instead, Burak,’ said Raavan as he lit his pipe.
      ‘That’s fine with me,’ said the Dwarf. ‘Tuin has never tasted Dragon blood, and it is a delicacy that every Kâlan axe should enjoy from time to time.’
      ‘Just make sure you save some for my broadsword,’ said Meledrü. ‘It has thirsted for blood too long.’
      ‘I think there will be plenty of other opportunities to quench its thirst,’ said Raavan after puffing a big cloud of smoke. ‘Anyway, you don’t seriously think I would take a Dwarf along to visit a Dragon, do you?’
      ‘Why not?’ asked Burak.
      ‘I’d be afraid the sight of all that gold would be too much for you to handle,’ said Raavan.
      ‘It might,’ agreed Burak, ‘especially if there was any quantity of red gold.’
      ‘Or if in his hoard you were to spot the Eye of Amyr,’ said Meledrü.
      ‘Well, of course,’ agreed Burak.
      ‘What is the Eye of Amyr?’ asked Falco.
      ‘A stupendous medallion,’ answered Meledrü, ‘lost over four thousand years ago. It was said to have been made of solid gold and to have sported a most perfect emerald in the exact centre that sparkled more brightly than even Uuma’s fair eyes.’
      ‘Sounds impressive,’ said Talen. Though he had little love for gold and jewels, he felt a desire to understand why such treasures so fascinated Dwarves.
      ‘It was said to have been lost when Rúlatár captured Kilu-kânan during the Third Age,’ continued the Dwarf. ‘Over the years many have claimed to have seen it in one place or another, particularly in Dragons’ hoards, though none of these reports has ever been confirmed.’
      ‘It is as gone as the Heart of Ödhen,’ added Burak wistfully.
      ‘Aye, I am afraid it is,’ said Meledrü. Then, in answer to the unspoken question on the faces of his listeners: ‘The Heart of Ödhen was even more impressive than the Eye of Amyr. It was an enormous gem, a most fabulous ruby the size of your fist that pulsed with an inner light like a pumping heart. It was said to have a soul of its own, and that any army that carried the Heart could overcome the most terrible forces of evil.’
      ‘To tell you the truth, I never believed such a thing really existed,’ mused Raavan.
      To this Meledrü merely shrugged his shoulders. ‘Some have been foolish enough to doubt whether Ödhen himself really exists, but I’m not sure he pays much attention to such mortals.’
      ‘Probably not,’ agreed Raavan good-naturedly.
      ‘Ödhen is a god?’ asked Talen.
      ‘He is the god for all Dwarven warriors,’ said Meledrü, ‘for Ödhen is the god of war, and is accounted the most powerful deity of the lower pantheon, above Jeul, Ahaur, and even Zhûs.’
      ‘Do you pray to him?’ asked Falco.
      ‘Of course,’ said Meledrü. ‘I pray that he will let me die valiantly on the battlefield, so that I can join his army at Nrak-aghor, the final battle fought in this world. Every day Ödhen travels the world over, collecting the souls of those who have died honourably defending their homelands. He takes them back to his castle in the clouds and they feast with him and are then permitted to train with his army for the final battle, where the dark gods will be overthrown and the world created anew.’
      ‘And then we shall all live happily ever after,’ said Raavan. ‘Well, most of us.’
      ‘Yes, most of us,’ agreed Meledrü.
      ‘And then it won’t matter who has the Heart of Ödhen,’ said Raavan, ‘or the Eye of Amyr!’
      ‘Aye,’ agreed Burak reluctantly, ‘I suppose it won’t.’
      ‘You know,’ said Raavan, ‘even if you were ever to come across either of those pieces in some Dragon’s hoard, and even if you could slip away with it undetected, you’d probably end up wishing you hadn’t.’
      ‘Why is that?’ asked Berethir.
      ‘Because it is not uncommon for a Dragon to place a curse on his most prized items,’ said the wizard, ‘either as a means of tracking them down and reclaiming them if they are stolen, or just out of spite to punish any would-be thieves. Many have been the unhappy plunderers of Dragons’ hoards who have learned that lesson the hard way.’
      ‘What kind of curse can a Dragon conjure?’ asked Berethir.
      ‘Any kind,’ said Raavan, shrugging his shoulders. ‘If he hasn’t the skill himself he can just hire a sorcerer to do it for him—Dragons generally aren’t lacking in funds, and it is a rare sorcerer who will dare try to double-cross a Dragon.’
      ‘I suppose that’s true,’ said Berethir.
      ‘Yes, Raavan has the right of it, I’m afraid,’ said Meledrü. ‘A famous example is that of the Telümenstone, a very large and many-faceted diamond that had many magical properties. One of these was its ability to reveal various types of secret writing when the light of the moon was passed through it onto a parchment. Obviously, the gem was highly valued for that and other reasons, but unfortunately it was lost during the Fourth Age when its owner, King Zurkai of Druindor, was eaten by the Dragon Hélfirion.
      ‘Zurkai’s descendents lusted after the stone for many long years, till finally the beast was slain by Al-Guri the Frost Giant. Giants have little interest in treasure, so Hélfirion’s hoard was quickly reclaimed by Meldaris, who was king of Druindor at that time. Many fine pieces were in that trove, and Meldaris shared much of the wealth with his people, though the Telümenstone he kept for himself. Yet, it was to be his undoing, for he became obsessed with the stone, and in time it drove him mad. He eventually took his own life, leaving the stone to his son, Meldruin, who in turn became likewise preoccupied with the relic and lost his own sanity to it.
      ‘As a result, the line of Meldaris died out, and the Telümenstone fell into obscurity. It was said that few dared to handle the gem after that, and that those who did so quickly lost their minds. The exact whereabouts of the piece are not known, though it is feared that someday it will turn up again, perhaps falling into the hands of some hapless victim who is not familiar with the legend of the Telümenstone, and then will it continue wreaking its havoc. Then again, it is also possible that the curse has by now worn off, and that some secret holder of the relic is hoarding the spectacular piece for himself.’
      ‘It’s possible,’ agreed Raavan. ‘Or it could be at the bottom of the ocean.’
      ‘There’s always that,’ agreed Meledrü.
       
       
      In the morning they saw that the snow had finally stopped altogether, as the sun rose brightly in the east to paint a vivid, white morning bordered above by wispy blue.
      ‘Very good,’ said Raavan upon seeing the weather. ‘As long as our pace is not slowed much further we should arrive at Hélethrôn with no more than a few days to spare before the eclipse.’
      ‘Why do you want to cut it that close?’ asked Falco. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to get there as early as possible and bide our time waiting in an out-of-the-way corner somewhere? I mean, what if we are delayed and end up being late?’
      ‘We must not be late,’ said Raavan. ‘That would of course be the worst outcome. But I think it would be very dangerous to spend too much time lurking about in the shadows of the Deathlord’s dominion. Even well hidden we would be at constant risk of exposing our minds to his numbing aura, and I am sure there are many other creatures in that place worth avoiding as well. Very likely he has employed a number of Sirithryn as his high priests. The mental blast of these creatures is to be avoided at all cost.’
      ‘Please, Raavan,’ said Valainis, ‘it is too fine a morning to discuss such dark things.’
      ‘Quite right,’ said Raavan. ‘It is a morning for riding, not talking, so let us be on our way.’
      Though quite a lot of snow had fallen, the late-night winds had tossed it about till it formed long drifts separated by wide furrows where the snow was not very deep. In these they rode and so were able to make quite good time. They now travelled due west along the line of the Yultauron range.
      In the late morning they began to notice columns of smoke rising from splits in the barren mountainside. Little or no snow had accumulated in these places.
      ‘What is that smoke?’ asked Talen.
      ‘Coal is very abundant in these mountains,’ answered Meledrü. ‘Hundreds of miles of coal mines run through the earth here, but they were abandoned long ago when a fire broke out in one of the shafts and spread throughout the entire network of mines. The fire burns very slowly because the coal runs in veins through the mountain, limiting the fire’s access to air, which it needs to burn.’
      ‘How long has it been burning like this?’ asked Talen.
      ‘Several hundred years, I believe,’ answered Meledrü. ‘Anyway, Anwaith’s lair is just a short distance ahead, where the fire burns most intensely.’
      ‘A perfect place for a Dragon’s den,’ noted Berethir.
      ‘Indeed,’ said the Dwarf.
      Just before noon Meledrü called a halt, for they had arrived. The smoke indeed rose thicker here and from a larger number of vents, making it difficult to see much of the mountain. Yet, high up the mountainside they were just able to discern the mouth of a sizeable cavern opening wide from the barren rock.
      ‘That’s it,’ said Meledrü.
      ‘Grand,’ said Talen glumly.
      ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Raavan. ‘Didn’t you enjoy it last time?’
      ‘O, yes,’ said Talen. ‘Immensely.’
      ‘Well, you needn’t worry about coming along anyway, as I’ve already decided to handle this one myself,’ said the wizard.
      ‘You have?’ said Talen. ‘Aren’t you going to need somebody to help you?’
      ‘Not this time,’ said the wizard. ‘The mistalyon worked out fine last time, but I’ve got a few other tricks up my sleeve, and there is really no reason to jeopardize anyone else’s safety if I can just as well manage on my own.’
      ‘If you say so,’ said Talen, not appearing overly disappointed.
      As there was no grove of trees located conveniently nearby this time the company instead descended into a gully behind a large rock. Raavan left Windaris with the others there and began to trudge along toward the mountain. They talked as they watched him go.
      ‘Did you say you knew the name of this drake?’ asked Burak.
      ‘Anwaith,’ replied Meledrü.
      ‘How did you discover its name?’ asked Alatar.
      ‘From a minstrel,’ answered the Dwarf.
      ‘A minstrel!’ said Berethir.
      ‘Aye, a minstrel named Blind Haeri,’ replied the Dwarf with a grin.
      ‘How on earth was a blind minstrel able to divine the name of a Dragon?’ asked Berethir. ‘Did he play him a song and then demand his name as payment?’
      ‘He said he learned the beast’s name from a Dwarf at Dalathrôn,’ replied Meledrü, ‘who apparently learned it from some wizard or sorcerer or some such.’
      ‘Interesting,’ said Berethir.
      They continued chatting as they watched Raavan begin the long climb up the mountainside. Airi accompanied him, flying quickly from one rocky outcropping to the next as he waited for the old man to catch up. As they watched the wizard supporting himself with his stout staff Talen reflected on how old Raavan really was, and how frail he appeared. He began then to feel guilty for not insisting on aiding the old man in this task, till he remembered that Raavan was one of the most powerful wizards in Entira. You foolish Elfling , thought he. Raavan is more than a match for any Dragon, and besides, you would only have got in his way.
      It was some time later when Raavan finally reached the cave entrance and disappeared inside with Airi riding on his shoulder. Now the companions watched more intently, for none of them even knew for sure whether the Dragon was at home, and some of them feared what might happen should the beast suddenly return to his den with Raavan trapped inside.
      They waited for what seemed an eternity, though in truth it was but a few minutes. Then suddenly they saw a small brown object shoot from the cave at high speed. It was Airi, and he was flying for dear life. Seconds later the wizard appeared also, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He turned from the mouth of the cave and scrambled laterally along the loose rocks.
      The wizard had not gone far when suddenly the beast appeared at the entrance to his lair. He was impressive to behold: a strong, red Dragon with evil eyes, and evil fangs. He looked about for signs of the wizard. Apparently failing to see the old man, he crawled out further for a better view. As he did so the watching companions were suddenly horror-struck, for in the mouth of the cave there now appeared a second Dragon, another red one with a barely slighter build, but otherwise as terrifying as the first.
      ‘Who is this other Dragon?’ cried Burak in alarm.
      ‘Who knows?’ replied Berethir. ‘Anwaith’s evil twin, I guess.’
      ‘Who cares who it is?’ cried Alatar. ‘The important thing is that there are two of them up there, and neither of them look pleased.’
      The companions continued to watch as the pair scurried out onto the mountainside and began to stalk deliberately toward Raavan. Though the watchers were desperate to think of some way to help the old man, they knew that anything they might try would only get the rest of them killed.
      Suddenly the first drake opened his sinister mouth and straightened out his long neck. As he did so a stream of flame shot out of his mouth toward the wizard, who stood defiantly facing the blast with his staff held firmly before him. The companions gasped as the flame enveloped the wizard, yet they soon saw that the old man was unburned, for the flames were deflected away from his body by some invisible force. When the fire died the wizard turned and continued fleeing. The dragons both gave chase, crawling awkwardly over the crumbling rock.
      Now Raavan made his way around a rock outcropping which afforded him some protection from the beasts, though the companions had difficulty clearly seeing the wizard, for the smoke from the burning coal mines obstructed much of their view. The Dragons did not give up the chase. Soon they had again caught up with him, and now both of them bathed the wizard in an intense cloud of fiery breath. Once again the wizard defied the flames by holding out his staff for protection, and when the flames had disappeared it was seen that the old man yet lived.
      This of course did not please the Dragons overmuch. The larger one rushed the old man, apparently with the intention of crushing him in his massive jaws, but quick as lightning Fheoir flashed in the wizard’s hands, and with a swing he brought the blade within inches of the beast’s nose. As the drake dodged the blade he lost his balance and slid a short distance down the incline on which he perched, giving Raavan a chance to leap away once more.
      In this fashion the pair continued to harry the old man for some time, chasing him among the rocky crags of that tortured landscape, alternately snapping at him with massive jaws or enveloping him in red-hot flames. Yet, through the skilled use of his sword and the magic in his staff the wizard was able at least to avoid his own immediate destruction, even if he was not able to compel his assailants to desist.
      The companions looked on in frustration, wanting desperately to act, but knowing they would only jeopardize the all-important mission to Hélethrôn by placing the rest of them in danger. For this reason only they held back, powerless to help as the wizard battled two great Dragons alone.
      Then, quite unexpectedly, several of them noticed that at the mouth of the cavern another creature had appeared, a seeming miniature version of the two beasts which hunted the wizard. It was immediately joined by another, and then a third.
      ‘Look!’ said Talen when he saw them. ‘Are those babies?’
      ‘Yes,’ said Meledrü, ‘they are Draglets. The other adult must be Anwaith’s mate.’
      ‘We only needed one Dragon, Meledrü, not five! ’ said Berethir.
      ‘That’s not five Dragons,’ said Meledrü, ‘that’s two and a half, and anyway, I doubt the young ones are at all dangerous.’
      ‘Perhaps not, but one Dragon defending his young is probably about as ferocious as three bachelors,’ said Burak. ‘No wonder they have been pestering Raavan so. They are defending their brood.’
      ‘Look!’ said Talen, ‘They are going back to the cave.’
      It was true. The smaller adult already had returned to shoo the young ones back inside, and the other was on his way. Soon only the larger one remained, standing guard at the cavern entrance for quite some time before finally retiring back into his den.
      Raavan was nowhere in sight.