Chapter 13

It was late afternoon when they departed the ancient ruins. Down the long, winding road they went with the bright sun looking on. Their favourable encounter with the Dragon together with the receding of the clouds helped to put some measure of hope into their hearts, small though that measure was. Yet, for some of them at least, the sense of hopelessness which had been growing in the backs of their minds was replaced with the feeling that all was not yet lost, that although much still hung in the balance at least they had a chance of success. And for such hardy souls as these, while there was yet a chance of success there could be no thought of giving up.
      Upon reaching the plains below they turned again toward the north-west, for their immediate goal was Dalathrôn. Here they would seek the counsel of King Silgruin and his Dwarves before settling on a final plan for their approach to Hélethrôn. Also, they would inform the Dwarves of the plight of their besieged brethren at Druindor, for it was Silgruin’s Dwarves who, being closest, could most easily come to their aid.
      They had gone only some six miles past the entrance to Cuimsitheoir Pass before the darkness compelled them to halt for the night. No caves or tombs were in evidence nearby in which they could pass a comfortable evening. Worse, they were now approaching parts where it would no longer be safe to keep a fire at night, and so they went without. Though there was much grumbling against this decision, all at least saw that they would have to do without fire when they reached Tath, and as that was only a few days away they might as well get used to it now.
      And so they wrapped themselves in their warmest blankets and huddled together in the most sheltered place they could find, and here they lay quietly talking while Alatar kept the first watch. Falco’s blade Athrónath kept guard as well, sitting in a place well-observed by the others.
      ‘Raavan,’ said Berethir, ‘how did you know with such certainty that the Dragon at the ruins would turn out to be Cirithren?’
      ‘I used to know the wizard who lived in that tower many years ago,’ said Raavan, ‘before the city was destroyed in the last Great War. Hyastasan was his name, and he was a very good friend.’
      ‘He was also a member of the Kastairi, if I am not mistaken’ said Valainis.
      ‘Yes, he was,’ said the wizard, ‘and a widely respected one, too. He and I both were apprenticed under Fangren, though Hyastasan’s training came some years after mine had completed.
      ‘In any event, Hyastasan once came across the corpse of a Dragon that had recently been slain, apparently by a Frost Giant, on the lower plains of Sraitheoir. In the nearby den he found a young Draglet which was clearly wanting for food. What had happened to the other parent he never knew. But the young one he took back to his tower and nurtured back to health. He named it Cirithren, which means lonely lizard .
      ‘Cirithren did not grow up alone, however, for Hyastasan had two young daughters, Nilienna and Aiwerina, who grew up right alongside Cirithren. They lived together, were schooled together, and if I remember correctly Cirithren even slept in the bed with the girls (while he was still small, of course).
      ‘In time, Cirithren grew to be a great Dragon, and Nilienna and Aiwerina grew into beautiful young ladies, and the four of them lived quite happily for years. Though Cirithren had the greatest respect for his master, he clearly loved Hyastasan’s daughters as though they were his own, and they loved him very dearly as well.
      ‘Unfortunately, dark times were ahead, for Mythron had just captured Ilimath and was planning his conquest of all of Entira. It was Hyastasan whom fate selected to accompany Fangren and myself into Ilimath during the final battle of the Ilimathäen War. We three and our small band of warriors were the original Sequálmarí, the warriors of the light . With our combined efforts we were able finally to overcome the powerful Deathlord, but not before Hyastasan lost his own life in the exchange.
      ‘Of course, Cirithren was terribly saddened by the news that his master was dead, but the worst was yet to come, for Hyastasan’s daughters were killed that same day by a Ghakhen war party as Cirithren was battling Mythron’s Dredgions on the plains of Tolor. When Cirithren discovered this his heart was broken. For many years he lived alone in the tower where he had grown up with Nilienna and Aiwerina.
      ‘I used to stop by at times to see him, but at some point he disappeared and I hadn’t seen him again after that until today. But when I realised that the ruins to which Meledrü was referring were those of Imrë Achaen, my memory was suddenly jarred. When Meledrü confirmed that the drake lived there in a tower I knew it could only be Cirithren.’
      ‘That is a very touching story,’ said Talen.
      ‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ said Raavan. ‘Well, sometimes life is like that. And so, Burak: just how soiled did your underclothes become as a result of today’s encounter?’
      ‘Quite soiled,’ said the Dwarf with a laugh. ‘Though, I am sure you know that I only jest in this matter. Of course, a strong Dwarf such as myself has no cause to fear a mere worm.’
      ‘Of course not,’ said Raavan.
      ‘Anyway, I was pleased to hear that your friend has been doing his part to control the Oghor population,’ continued the Dwarf.
      ‘O, yes,’ said Raavan with a chuckle. ‘He has always been partial to Oghor meat, as I recall.’
      ‘Does he like Goblyn or Ghakh?’ asked Berethir.
      ‘I don’t think so,’ said Raavan.
      ‘Pity,’ said the big man.
      ‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ said the wizard.
       
       
      It was in the early hours of pre-dawn that Talen awoke with a start.
      ‘Shhh!’ said Raavan quietly as he stooped near the Elfling. ‘Spawn!’ whispered the wizard, pointing to Athrónath, which sat glowing on a flat rock in the middle of camp.
      Hastily the Elfling threw off his blankets and fetched his weapons. He strapped on his sword and his quiver, and then took up his bow as the others prepared themselves in like fashion. Falco sheathed the glowing Elven blade and then nocked an arrow to his bow.
      ‘Do you see them?’ whispered Talen into Burak’s ear. The Dwarf was staring intently toward the south-west.
      ‘No, but you can hear them if you listen carefully,’ replied Burak quietly. ‘They are some distance away. They do not seem to be getting any nearer, though exactly which way they are going I cannot say.’
      They continued to listen for some time. In the distance they could hear the gruff voices of the spawn. Though they could not be sure, they guessed it was a rather large company of Ghakhen, much like the one they had seen approaching Sochail, though possibly larger. That it took them so long to pass troubled the companions, for they did not like what this suggested about the size of the enemy force.
      ‘Let us hope they are not on their way to besiege Dalathrôn,’ said Berethir after the spawn could no longer be heard.
      ‘That would indeed be bad,’ agreed Raavan.
      ‘Perhaps we should ride for the Kâlandelf now,’ suggested Meledrü. ‘If they are on foot, as Ghakhen would most likely be, we can easily out-race them.’
      ‘Yes, but won’t we just get trapped there when they arrive behind us?’ asked Talen.
      ‘No,’ said Meledrü, ‘there are other ways out of Dalathrôn besides the front door. That is true of every Kâlandelf, and certainly of Dalathrôn.’
      ‘O, of course,’ said Talen.
      ‘I suppose we had better do as Meledrü suggests,’ said Raavan. ‘At the least, we can warn Silgruin that a Ghakhen force approaches. Of course, that’s assuming the spawn are headed toward Dalathrôn. They may just as well have been headed the other way. But since we are all awake now, we might as well get a head start. We can make up lost sleep when we get there.’
      ‘And in real beds, too,’ said Burak. ‘Count me in!’
      They hastily struck the camp and then mounted up. They continued their north-westerly trek, riding as quickly as they dared given the darkness and the possibility of spawn near at hand. Yet as time went on, Falco’s blade glowed less and less till at last it glowed no more. For the time being they were safe, though they still could not be certain the horde was not destined for Dalathrôn.
      ‘Well, if they were headed the other way, then that strongly suggests that Aineachan has been taken,’ said Alatar.
      ‘Indeed,’ said Raavan. ‘But I knew Silgoth would try to take that pass anyway. He needs it to control Tolorian access to Tath. Without Aineachan, the allies can come at him only through Enediad in the south or across the Tarmouth south of Druindor. And with Druindor besieged by spawn, the latter route will hardly prove easy.’
      ‘Our brethren in Mornaru and Thorwald will take care of that soon enough,’ said Burak.
      ‘I have no doubt that is true,’ said Raavan, ‘yet, our path must necessarily precede theirs if we are to achieve our task in the allotted time, and for this reason we must choose our way wisely, for we can count on no army to clear the way for us.’
      ‘True enough,’ conceded the Dwarf.
      They continued to ride aggressively for the Dwarvenholt, with Falco checking the status of Athrónath by drawing it every few miles. Unfortunately, the snow drifts were deeper in this region and these slowed them considerably. Still, they made reasonable time throughout the day, and by nightfall it had been announced that they were just a short distance from Dalathrôn.
      When they were less than a mile from the Dwarvenholt they halted, for the sound of many troops marching could be heard ahead.
      ‘What!’ exclaimed Burak. ‘The spawn have somehow arrived before we. How can this be?’
      ‘It cannot be,’ answered Raavan calmly.
      ‘It may be a different contingent, or it may not be spawn at all,’ said Berethir.
      ‘Indeed,’ agreed the wizard. ‘It may be Silgruin’s own forces marching out to meet the enemy. Let’s proceed very slowly till we know the which of it. Be prepared for anything!’
      And so they continued on with the greatest care, and before long the mystery was solved, for out of the front gate of Dalathrôn marched a great column of Dwarven warriors, all in full armour and bearing hefty axes.
      ‘Well, that at least is a reassuring sight,’ said Raavan as the company stopped to watch the Dwarven column.
      ‘Wherever Kâlan axes go, there streams of Goblyn blood shall flow ,’ said Burak, reciting an old saw.
      ‘May that remain ever true,’ said Raavan as he motioned for the others to follow. ‘Now, let us go see what Silgruin is up to.’
      They were greeted by a lieutenant who saw that they were admitted without delay. Within the front gate was a large hall in which many preparations appeared to be underway for a battle. Piles of axes, shields, and helmets lay about, as well as many other implements of war. Dwarves hurried to and fro carrying supplies or running other errands. Before the companions had gone very far they were stopped by a Dwarf who recognised Meledrü.
      ‘My friend, finally you have come!’ said the Dwarf. ‘Our messenger went out well over a week ago, and yet we have had no reply till today. Is then Thorwald also under siege?’
      ‘Thorwald is under no siege,’ replied Meledrü, somewhat taken aback, ‘at least, not as of five days ago. And there has been no messenger.’
      ‘No messenger!’ said the Dwarf in disbelief.
      ‘Not before I left,’ confirmed Meledrü.
      ‘This sounds familiar,’ said Raavan wryly.
      ‘Then you do not know of the siege of Druindor,’ asserted the Dwarf.
      ‘We do know of that,’ said Raavan, ‘but we heard it from an eagle.’
      ‘An eagle?’ said the warrior perplexedly.
      ‘Yes. Where is Silgruin?’ demanded Raavan.
      ‘He is around somewhere,’ replied the other, ‘probably with General Ardrôs.’
      Several sergeants and lieutenants later they finally located the general.
      ‘I believe the King is still with the Chancellor in the war room,’ said General Ardrôs. ‘He will want to see you right away.’
      With that the general led the companions out of the hall and down a series of passages no more or less labyrinthine than what any of them had come to expect from an abode of Dwarves. Talen saw immediately that Dalathrôn was as unlike Thorwald as it was possible to imagine any Dwarvenholt being, for it was dusty and dark, and far more ancient. When he enquired as to the age of this Kâlandelf Talen was informed that Dalathrôn was one of the oldest Dwarven kingdoms in Entira, as old even as Hélethrôn. And that, Talen knew, was old indeed.
      One of the most striking aspects of Dalathrôn was the way in which the many natural caverns intersected with the dolven passageways down which the companions were led. Within the larger of these caverns were constructed little communities of stone huts, so that Talen soon took the impression that Dalathrôn was actually a collection of subterranean villages connected by a heterogeneous network of both natural and worked passages.
      By the time they had reached the war room the king had completed his business with the chancellor and was just on his way out. When he saw whom the general had brought to visit him he invited them in and joined them at a large table that had so many sides it was very nearly round. The king, though royal enough in appearance, did not look nearly as stern as Baradren. His long grey beard and locks were folded into tiny braids, giving them an almost rope-like appearance. On his head he wore a crown that appeared to be as ancient as Dalathrôn itself.
      ‘Meledrü, my compliments to your King Baradren,’ said King Silgruin as he shook the large Dwarf’s hand. ‘And the same to your King Khazâl,’ said Silgruin to Burak. ‘I regret that we have not had greater interchange with your people.’
      ‘The feeling is mutual, Your Highness,’ said Burak with a deferential bow.
      Then turning to the wizard Silgruin said, ‘Raavan, it is good to see you, my old friend. It is perhaps good fortune which brings you here at just this time.’
      ‘Whether it is good fortune or ill remains yet to be seen,’ said Raavan.
      ‘How much do you know of the situation in Tolor and Tath?’ asked the king.
      ‘Enough,’ said Raavan. ‘Indeed, more than I would like. The question is, how much do you know?’
      ‘I know that Aineachan is held by spawn, and that Druindor has been under siege for well over two weeks,’ replied the king. ‘Also, that many foul creatures are rumoured to walk the lands to the west.’
      ‘No mere rumours are they,’ said Raavan, ‘for a Deathlord resides again at Hélethrôn, as did Omenaton of old, and what meagre forces he has released to trickle into this land are not a tenth of that which he has formed in Tath. A great horde he yet retains, one which is barely rivaled by all the combined armies of Entira.’
      ‘You are certain of these things?’ asked the king, a deeply troubled look on his face.
      ‘Beyond any doubt,’ said Raavan. ‘And what’s more, I know what it is the Deathlord awaits. In just under two weeks the skies will darken as the moon eclipses the sun, and on this day the Deathlord hopes to achieve a vast increase in his power, one that will render him every bit as formidable as Omenaton. It is even possible that he will achieve mastery of the Sraithes.’
      ‘This is just staggering,’ said Silgruin, who was clearly in shock. ‘How have you learned of these things?’
      ‘With great anguish,’ said Raavan.
      ‘Undoubtedly,’ said the king.
      Raavan then explained to the Dwarf king the current situation of the allies, of their plans to converge within the next few days on Tath, and of the numbers which it was thought could be brought to oppose the Deathlord. He spoke briefly of the recruitment of Cirithren and of their own plans to attack Silgoth directly during the ritual of the Unsundering. Silgruin seemed particularly interested in the latter endeavour.
      ‘That is a very intriguing plan,’ said the king.
      ‘We were hoping you would be able to provide some guidance as to exactly how we might proceed,’ said Raavan.
      ‘Surely,’ said the king.
      ‘In particular, we will need to find a way into Hélethrôn that is unguarded. Have you any scholars who yet know of the secret ways into that ancient Dwarvenholt?’
      ‘And of the general floor plan, too,’ added Berethir.
      ‘Of course,’ said the king. ‘I will call on them at once. When will you be setting out?’
      ‘First thing in the morning, if at all possible,’ said Raavan. ‘Now, tell me of your own doings. I see you have dispatched a rather large force toward the south. Is Aineachan their goal?’
      ‘Aineachan and then Druindor,’ replied Silgruin.
      ‘Good,’ said Raavan. ‘If my calculations are correct, your troops should be met soon after their arrival at Druindor by those of Thorwald and Mornaru. Within days the Tolorian armies should be ready to advance on Tath. What will be essential then is proper coordination with the allies to the south, who will mostly be aiming for Enediad.’
      ‘I can send scouts across Malindor to look out for their approach,’ said the king.
      ‘Very good,’ said Raavan. ‘Baradren has already done the same, but there is no harm in redundancy, for some of the scouts will surely encounter spawn along the way and as such may be rendered unable to report their findings.’
      ‘Understood,’ said the king.
      What followed was another late night of poring over stacks of detailed maps and wrangling over alternative strategies. It was nearly enough to bore the Elflings out of their minds. They were becoming weary of the endless planning, the countless meetings of generals and captains and strategists and kings. So many months had they passed in pursuit of this one errand that they wanted nothing more than for it to be over. Even their fear of facing the Deathlord in his dark demesne began to be overshadowed by their desire to just finish the task and get on with their lives. Yet, as they watched with weary eyes the tracing of routes hundreds of miles long they knew the end would not come nearly as soon as they wished.
      The planners seemed every bit as displeased by the whole business, for every option which they explored seemed to involve just as many dangers and potential pitfalls as any of the others. Yet, they had now come to the point where the most difficult decisions had to be made, for no longer could they be put off.
      One of the greatest uncertainties was the way by which they should attempt to gain entrance into Hélethrôn, for though a number of secret gateways were known to have existed originally, none had been tried in hundreds of years and not all could even be confidently pinpointed on a map. Fortunately, a number of these ancient gateways were concentrated within a ten-mile stretch across the River Atha at the very end of the Yultauron range. How many of them still were passable and could be found by the infiltrators they did not know, but they at least felt confident that their chances of finding a way in would be compounded by targeting this region.
      Once the means of entry had been addressed they still had to devise a route that would land them there safely, and this was no small task, for the nearer they got to Hélethrôn the greater the number of foul creatures they could expect to encounter, no matter what their path. The mountains near to Hélethrôn were known to be infested with all manner of nasty beasts long before Silgoth came to the area, and it could be expected that the situation had only worsened since then.
      Finally they settled on a path that would continue to take them westward along the southern margin of the Yultaurons, where they would be able to make use of various secret ways which were known to the Dalathrônians. These would take them to the far side of the Cothrû Pass, where they could then follow inside the line of the River Ulul till they reached the area of the Kâlangates. It was a long path and a dangerous one, yet according to their reckoning it held the best chance of success.
      When the companions finally were shown to their sleeping quarters Meledrü remained behind to receive instruction from several Dwarves concerning the detailed layout of the land. Though Meledrü was fairly well-travelled even in these parts, he would at times have to rely on the maps they would provide him as he guided the company to their destination. How late he stayed up that night none of the others knew for sure, though by his appearance the next morning they concluded that it must have been late indeed. Yet, he seemed confident at Raavan’s questioning that he could guide the party without error, and none doubted his word at this, for by now they knew his mettle.
      They did not leave as early the next morning as they had planned, for they were short on sleep and it was thought worthwhile for them to make it up so as to be alert when they set out. The Dwarves gave them a hot breakfast of gruel and strong coffee, and then they prepared to leave. Before they departed Silgruin took Raavan aside to have a few last words with him. Talen was near enough to just hear what was said.
      ‘There is one other thing which I have not yet mentioned,’ said the king, ‘for I am not sure that it has any relevance to the crisis at hand. Yet, I know that you like to ponder all things in the depth of your own wisdom, and so it is this: It has been confided to me that several among us have been having dreams of a seemingly portentous nature—or, more precisely, one dream which a number of us have shared exactly. Until yesterday I thought it only a strange curiosity, yet last night I myself was finally visited by this ominous vision, and now I feel less inclined to dismiss it so.’
      ‘What is the nature of the dream?’ asked Raavan.
      ‘It is simple to describe,’ said the king, ‘perhaps deceptively so. A large, black rock is seen falling from the sky, a fiery tail streaming out behind it, and a booming voice emanating from the otherworldly object warns of some terrible doom to come. Into the south-west sky it streaks before crashing into the earth with a thundrous sound. And then all becomes black.’
      ‘Hmmmm,’ said Raavan. ‘I am not sure what to make of this, except that it is very curious indeed.’
      ‘Likely enough it is nothing,’ said the king, ‘but I thought it worthwhile to pass it on to you, should it by chance turn out to have any substance.’
      ‘I will think on it,’ said Raavan. ‘At the moment it would seem no more than a strange curiosity, as you have said, but I will keep it in the back of my mind, just in case.’
      ‘Very good,’ said the king.