Chapter 12

Long moments passed and still they saw no sign of the wizard. Though he had fought the Dragons valiantly, it was now feared that perhaps he had finally been overpowered by them. Mayhap this was why the pair had at last returned to their den, knowing that they had finally succeeded in reducing the intruder to a charred corpse. But whether this was so, the observers could not say, for as the battle neared its end the wizard and his persecutors had disappeared round the flank of a massive spire that climbed skywards from the broken mountainside. Though the drakes had reappeared and returned cautiously to their lair, of the wizard no sign had been seen, and still the day wore on.
      Finally the anxious companions decided they could wait no longer. They saddled up and rode toward the foot of the mount, Raavan’s steed Windaris in tow. They halted at a spot near a low bluff where they were only minimally visible to the mouth of the cavern, and here Alatar and Meledrü dismounted and climbed hastily toward the place where the wizard had last been seen. Over an angled ledge they disappeared, and then some moments later they appeared once again, a weary and disheveled Raavan leaning heavily on them as slowly the three made their way down the side of the mount.
      ‘I am all right, I just need to rest for a few minutes,’ said the wizard as he sat upon a boulder sheltered by the bluff. ‘Those two gave me quite a drubbing. Had they not retreated finally, I fear I would have collapsed at the last.’
      ‘Save your breath,’ said Alatar. ‘We can rest here for as long as you need.’
      ‘No, we cannot,’ said Raavan, seeming finally to return to his strength. ‘We must be on our way. I have wasted enough of our time on this foolish course. The Dragons of this Age are not the noble beasts I remember of yore, it would seem. But alas, there is nothing for it now. Let us be on our way. I have strength enough now to ride, and so ride we must, before the day slips away completely.’
      And so they went on, rather slowly at first as the wizard regained his strength, but soon they had resumed a modest pace and proceeded to ride westward along the margin of the mountain range to their right. The sun still shone brightly in the sky, though it did little to warm the air nor melt the snow which lay yet in long drifts along the undulating landscape.
      For the rest of the day they encountered nothing more dangerous than a snowhawk chasing jays through the occasional stand of trees. To make up for their lost time Raavan insisted that they ride on for a bit after dark, for with the moonglow reflecting off the white landscape they could easily see their way. When they had covered about twenty-five miles they stopped and did their best to battle the frigid air with the heat of their fire.
      After a meal of hot beef cubes and a goodly draught of brandy Raavan appeared good as new. He took out his pipe and smoked for a bit in silence as the others digested their meal and bathed their hands and faces in the fire’s warm glow. Finally, he spoke.
      ‘Well, I think we are still right on schedule,’ said the wizard. ‘My pleasant little visit with Anwaith and company delayed us by no more than two hours, I would say, and we have made that up already.’
      ‘I would say so,’ agreed Alatar.
      ‘What exactly happened inside the beast’s den?’ asked Berethir. ‘What did you say to invite such fury?’
      ‘Well, if you really must know,’ replied Raavan, ‘I said only good morning .’
      ‘Good morning? ’ said Berethir incredulously.
      ‘Yes,’ replied Raavan. ‘And of course that explains everything, now doesn’t it?’
      ‘How so?’ asked the bear-like man.
      ‘Because the Dragons obviously consulted their clock and saw that it was no longer morning,’ said the wizard. ‘I should have said good afternoon . Any gentlemanly creature would react with the same outrage at such an egregious social blunder.’
      ‘O, very funny,’ said Berethir with mild indignation as the others laughed heartily.
      ‘They had young to defend,’ said Burak. ‘What other reason could you want?’
      ‘I guess I just expected more from such an accomplished wizard,’ explained Berethir.
      ‘I’m very sorry to disappoint you,’ said Raavan, puffing his pipe.
      ‘That’s quite all right,’ said the man.
       
       
      In the morning they continued their journey westerly along the northern edge of Tolor. They now were beginning to approach the western reaches of that land, so that with every step they drew ever nearer to Tath. In perhaps three days’ time they would cross over into that fell land where the Deathlord’s armies roamed night and day. Even now they knew it was not unlikely they would begin to encounter small detachments of the enemy’s forces, for with Druindor only some hundred miles or so to their south-west and Sochail behind them there would certainly be scouts and messengers or even larger parties of reinforcements passing through Tolor.
      They also were approaching a part of Tolor where Giants and Oghors were known to be relatively common, and so the party would have to be on the lookout for these as well. Though neither of these were likely to be in any way aligned with Silgoth, still they could pose serious problems for the company if they were not avoided.
      Though they now were well over a hundred miles out from Thorwald they still relied on Meledrü to guide them, for the Dwarf had travelled extensively throughout Tolor. He had even been to Tath on quite a number of occasions, for Baradren was always looking to extend his network of mines, and Meledrü often led the expedition to investigate a prospective site.
      In mid-morning it began to flurry, and though the snowfall was too light to cause any additional accumulation, still it continued all the day long. Though December was yet a few days away, there could be no doubt that Lady Winter had laid claim to Entira’s northern lands, and that she had no intention of relinquishing them till spring.
      Just before nightfall Meledrü announced that they were nearing the tomb of an ancient Dwarven king, and that they might seek shelter there. As this was agreeable to all, he led them just a little further west before turning into a narrow, embowered valley between high cliffs. Soon they had entered a forest of tall pines. With Talen’s shining Hemiglobe in hand the Dwarf led them toward the western edge of the valley, where in the sheer rock face of the cliff was a small doorway opening over a set of stone stairs leading down. In they went.
      Though it took some trouble to convince their steeds to squeeze through the small portal, they found when they were inside that there was adequate room for all. In the middle of the crypt was a very ancient looking sarcophagus. In the stone were carved many Dwarven runes, faded but still legible, and even on the walls there was much writing, though that was faded even more.
      ‘Zurth-Kuli-Ugak was his name,’ explained Meledrü when they had set up camp next to the sarcophagus, ‘King of Levánnelthain, an ancient Kâlandelf that was located at the far end of this vale. All its halls have long since been collapsed by earthquakes and flooded by underground streams, for in this region the mountains are still very active. His father, Zurth-Caeweg, is credited with eradicating the Ruwaithrim, an extinct species of Troell that lived only in this region.’
      ‘Yes, and from what I understand, they were rather more dangerous than the extant Troells of today,’ added Raavan.
      ‘Indeed,’ agreed Meledrü. ‘Anyway, Zurth-Kuli-Ugak is better remembered for the events of his own life, for he fared badly at the hands of the demon Eithorog, who had been awaken prematurely from his thousand-year hibernation deep in the earth. The Levánnelthainians disturbed the fiend by digging too close to his lair, though had they known there was a demon down that way they would surely have dug elsewhere. Many Dwarves were killed and Eithorog demanded of the king that he deliver half his kingdom’s wealth as well as his firstborn son to the fiend or face the direst consequences.
      ‘Of course, the king refused to satisfy the demon’s demands, and as a result Eithorog placed Zurth-Kuli-Ugak in a thousand-year sleep. For a thousand years he slept in this very tomb, yet when his time came to rise from his lengthy repose his kingdom had been destroyed and his legend all but forgotten, except for what was written of it here. By the time his tomb had been re-discovered, another thousand years and more had passed, and so the king’s stone sleeping chamber became his grave, for it is assumed by most that he suffocated on the very day of his wakening.’
      ‘That’s terrible!’ said Talen.
      ‘It is,’ agreed Meledrü. ‘That is, if he really did wake.’
      ‘What do you mean?’ asked Berethir.
      ‘It is said by some,’ continued the Dwarf, ‘that the demon’s curse was so strong that the king failed to wake after a thousand years, and lies still in deep slumber within his stone bed. They say that a day will come when terror grips the land and all hope seems lost, and then will Zurth-Kuli-Ugak arise at last from his troubled sleep and unite the Kalär under a single flag, and his second rule will bring the most glorious age ever seen.’
      ‘I wonder how many kings have had a similar epitaph written for them,’ said Raavan.
      ‘Always the sceptic,’ said Meledrü.
      ‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ replied the wizard.
      ‘Well, if things don’t go right for us over the coming days, the conditions for his return might start to look like coming true,’ replied Burak.
      ‘Indeed,’ said Raavan.
       
       
      Though the tomb, having no door, was open to the elements outside, still the companions were glad to pass the night in a sheltered place where the chill wind could not blow directly at them. They kept only single watches that night, and when the sentinel on duty was not standing at the door to the tomb he was feeding the fire, so that through the night the chamber and its sleepers were kept quite warm.
      Though he slept well most of the night, Talen did have a familiar dream—that of dragging a blade too heavy for him to lift, toward a distant tower where an enemy awaited. He had lived this scene each night since leaving Mornaru, some nights more than once, yet still he did not know what it meant, or whether it had any meaning for him at all.
      After tea and waybread they bade the sleeping Dwarf king good-bye. Riding out of the narrow valley they turned west again in the cold morning. Though the flurries had gone, the sky was solidly lined with low, grey clouds that spoke of more snow to come, yet whether they would drop their cargo here or carry it on to other lands none could confidently predict.
      Their way now turned north-westerly as the mountains curved northward toward the Cuimsitheoir Pass. According to Meledrü they should reach the pass before nightfall, though it would be no more than a landmark for them as their path would take them straight past it toward Dalathrôn.
      Little of note occured that day, though Raavan had urged them all to remain on high alert, especially after an Oghor was spotted in the late morning ambling along on a high ledge to their right. The great muscular beast appeared to be dragging the mangled carcase of some animal, probably a deer, and though it did stop once to look dumbly down at them, it quickly lost interest and continued on its way.
      In mid-afternoon it was announced that they were now approaching the pass and that they would need to decide on a course of action should any spawn come down to molest them. Raavan thought it unlikely, however, that Silgoth would have dedicated any resources to securing Cuimsitheoir, for it had little or no strategic value to either the Deathlord or the allies. Nevertheless, they decided they should hasten past the place so as to reduce their chance of being spotted, should any spawn be present.
      Yet, as they crossed the track leading up toward the slot Raavan suddenly called for them to halt.
      ‘Well, this is hardly what I would call hastening by ,’ said Berethir as they all stood in plain view of the entrance to the pass. Raavan ignored the man.
      ‘Meledrü,’ said the wizard. ‘Did you not say that a Dragon dwelt among the ruins of a city overlooking this pass?’
      ‘O, not more Dragons!’ complained Talen.
      ‘Yes,’ said the Dwarf to Raavan. ‘There is a green drake that lives atop a broken tower just about a mile in.’
      ‘On the eastern side of the pass?’ asked the wizard, who appeared to be searching his memory for something he knew or had seen long ago.
      ‘Yes,’ confirmed the Dwarf.
      ‘Know you his name?’ asked Raavan, his eyes narrowing suddenly.
      ‘No,’ replied the Dwarf.
      ‘Well, I think I do,’ said the wizard. ‘Follow me!’
      With that the wizard led the companions up the track toward the pass. They rode as swiftly as they could, though it was hard going due to the snow. Soon they came to a place where the road branched off to the right, and this they followed. They continued climbing, though they went more slowly now, for the snow was deeper here and their steeds were straining to keep up the pace.
      The road wound up and up, cutting through rock and forest alike on its march toward some goal that always seemed likely to appear just ahead, and yet on it took them higher into the mountains till some began to wonder if it ever would end at all.
      Finally they topped a rise to see that they had arrived at the ruins of some ancient city built high on the mountainside. Below to the west they could see the track of Cuimsitheoir cutting a relatively straight path through the mountains toward the north-east.
      Though all was covered with snow they could tell this once had been a fair city, for what hints of the original architecture remained showed that no modest peasants had built this place. There were arches and colonnades, statues and founts, and grand courtyards enclosed by walls of marble and granite. Into some of these had been carved inscriptions in an ancient tongue. Though Talen could not read these, they sounded fair to him when he tried to speak the words.
      It was clear that Raavan knew this place, for he led them confidently down several avenues toward the northernmost corner of the city. There they saw a wide tower that had been broken off at the top so as to reveal a portion of the topmost storey (though whether this was originally the topmost level they were not sure, for there may have been others above it).
      Round the tower was a modest courtyard with high walls on three sides and a colonnade on the fourth, all covered with climbing vines and mosses, and all crumbling with age. Here they stopped, facing the tower, as the clouds began to break up and a ray of sunlight shone down on parts of the city. Raavan removed a glove and scratched his head.
      ‘Raavan, what exactly are we doing here?’ asked Berethir quietly. ‘If there is a Dragon lurking about this place, then I hardly think we should all be just standing here out in the open.’
      ‘I’ll tell you what I am doing,’ said Burak. ‘I am soiling my underclothes.’
      ‘You have no need to fear this beast,’ said Raavan.
      ‘Of course not,’ said Burak matter-of-factly, ‘neither was there any reason to fear the last two, as I recall.’
      ‘This time things are different,’ said the wizard.
      ‘How is that?’ asked Burak.
      ‘This time I know the beast, and he knows me,’ replied Raavan. Then, cupping his hands the wizard called in a loud voice up toward the top of the tower: Cirithren!
      There was no reply.
      Cirithren! he called again.
      Now they heard movement in the tower, and soon a massive head appeared behind a wide fissure in the tower’s outer wall. It was a long, reptilian head, covered in green scales, with a pointy nose and great, yellow eyes.
      Suddenly the mouth opened and in a deep voice it spoke: ‘Who art thou that callest my name?’
      ‘It is I,’ called the wizard, ‘Raavan of Caer Carnoch, of the Brotherhood of the Kastairi. I think you must remember me.’
      There was a pause then as the beast carefully regarded the company. Then the head was gone, and only darkness could be seen through the crack, though there yet were sounds of movement within. Now out through the wide open top of the tower flew a great green Dragon. He leapt into the air and flapped his immense pinions only a few brief times as he turned and descended toward the company sitting upon their steeds in the courtyard.
      All were silent as the magnificent beast alighted on the ground next to the tower. His scales were mostly green, with yellow along his underside and black along parts of his back and wings. His muscles rippled and bunched along his length, from his head down his long, thick neck, along his lean torso, and even down his lengthy tail. His teeth shone white when he opened his mouth to speak.
      ‘Raavan,’ said the Dragon. ‘It is a great many years since we have spoken, old friend. How farest thee?’
      ‘As well as can be expected, I suppose,’ answered Raavan. ‘I am glad to see you in good health, Cirithren.’
      ‘Plentiful have the Oghors been,’ said the Dragon modestly. ‘For what more can an honest beast ask?’
      ‘Not much, I suppose,’ chuckled Raavan.
      ‘And how fare thy brothers, the Kastairi?’ asked the drake.
      ‘They are fine, though it is some months since I have seen Telion,’ answered Raavan, ‘and of course, we all miss Fangren and Hyastasan. In fact, I have been thinking of my old master quite a bit of late. As I get older the thought of joining him across the seas becomes rather more tempting.’
      ‘Perhaps thou shouldst do so,’ said Cirithren.
      ‘There is yet work for me to do here in Entira,’ said the wizard, ‘a final task which I cannot in good conscience neglect. It is this task which brings me to you, in fact, for if you’ve a mind to lend a wing, we would be forever in your debt.’
      ‘Tellest me thou of this task of thine,’ said the Dragon, leaning forward to rest more comfortably on his forelegs.
      Raavan then proceeded to recount for Cirithren the events which led to their present state and to outline the allies’ plans for an assault on Tath. Of the Unsundering, the coming eclipse, and their own mission to Hélethrôn he spoke only briefly, emphasising the destruction which Silgoth would bring on the peoples of Entira unless the Deathlord could be overthrown before the Day of Darkness, barely two weeks away.
      ‘Most interesting this is,’ said Cirithren in his deep voice. ‘Of the large numbers of gnân roaming the lands I was aware, though I did not guess at the significance. It is years since I have been to Kilu-kânan. Perhaps it is time I paid a visit to this maggot who lives in the Dwarf halls.’
      ‘No!’ said Raavan alarmedly, raising his hands in warning. ‘That you don’t want to do. Silgoth is now fully as powerful as Mythron, as near as I can tell, and you well know that it took three of the Kastairi to overcome him at Ilimath, and even then one of us lost his life.’
      ‘Thy words ring of truth, friend Raavan,’ said the Dragon, ‘yet I feel it is the only way for me to achieve some measure of revenge—if not on Mythron himself, then on he who hath taken on his mantle.’
      ‘Cirithren, please,’ pleaded Raavan, ‘—there is a better way for you to be avenged of your master’s death.’
      ‘It is not only my master that I wish to avenge,’ replied the drake.
      ‘I know that,’ said Raavan, ‘but if we the Sequálmarí can coordinate our efforts with your own it becomes all the more likely that together we can end this menace for good. After all, it is the Thread that is the root of this evil and all the great evils that have come before. It is the Thread against which we must take our revenge, and for this we have a strategy already in place. What is needed is greater support from the forces of good throughout Entira in order that our chances will be increased.’
      ‘Very well,’ said the Dragon with a sigh. ‘Showest me thou the way and I will follow thy lead, Raavan, for my master ever had faith in thee.’
      Now Raavan recounted in greater detail their plan for the infiltration of Hélethrôn, emphasising the importance of diverting Silgoth’s attention to his losses on the battlefield. What they knew of the allies’ intended routes to Tath and the likely timetable for the assault he also shared. When he had finished the Dragon appeared quite satisfied with this plan, for it was seen that with his aid on the battlefield great numbers of spawn could be more easily destroyed, and this pleased the drake, for he had no love for gnân .
      Suddenly the Dragon sat up. ‘I can do even more than this,’ said Cirithren, ‘for I am not the only honourable drake remaining in the world.’ Now the Dragon stood on his hind legs. ‘I must depart now, for I have many miles to cover.’
      ‘You must be back in time for the eclipse!’ warned Raavan. ‘Otherwise, all is lost.’
      ‘Fearest thou not,’ said the enormous Dragon as he stretched his pinions in the full sunlight. ‘When thou seest me again I shall have in my company a host of my brethren. The very earth shall be blackened by our fire, and the gnân shall beg for their wretched lives. Farewell for now, Raavan, and Dragonspeed to thou and thy companions.’
      ‘Dragonspeed to you,’ said Raavan as the drake leapt into the air, the wind from his beating wings nearly blowing the companions from their steeds. They watched as he disappeared behind the peak of a nearby mountain.
      ‘Well, it looks like that is taken care of,’ said the wizard once the Dragon had gone.
      ‘I just hope when your friend is blackening the earth that he has a care to distinguish friend from foe,’ said Burak. ‘I fear we may all look the same to a Dragon on the rampage.’
      ‘That is a good point,’ said Raavan. ‘Well, if I see him again before the battle I will be sure to mention it to him.’
      ‘Wonderful,’ said the Dwarf.