Chapter 17

The hardest part of opening the secret door was knowing when it was most safe to do so. Though they listened intently with their ears to the cold stone, so thick was the door and the surrounding walls that they were not likely to hear anything anyway, no matter what lay beyond. Yet they listened just the same, for now was the time when they were in greatest need of stealth.
      When they had listened in vain for some time Burak was invited to ‘do his magic’ with the ancient door. This he did, and soon they all had slipped through into the dimly lit chamber beyond. All about them were tall stacks of crates and barrels, as they had apparently come upon a storage room. Torchlight flickered in the hallway outside to filter in through the open door. Though several voices could be heard out in the hall they did not sound very close.
      As soon as Burak had closed the secret door behind them they ventured a peek out into the hallway. They saw that the chamber opened onto a long corridor with regularly spaced torches fixed alternately in either wall. Though the voices of the spawn could no longer be heard the sound of approaching footsteps sent them rushing to the back of the chamber. There they hid behind heaped boxes and such till the sound of the footfalls had passed.
      ‘What now?’ asked Berethir.
      ‘Now I am going to take a walk,’ said Raavan, handing Meledrü his map. ‘The rest of you should stay just as you are—silent and out of site. I shall not be long.’
      With that the wizard stepped toward the door with his staff in hand. Stopping just before the threshold he closed his eyes in deep concentration, and then—poof! —he abruptly faded into nothing.
      The others did just as the wizard had instructed, remaining crouched uncomfortably in the back of the storage room. As they waited they several times heard footsteps passing in the hallway and once heard the voices of what they believed were Goblyns, yet nothing came through the door to their chamber till some time later when Raavan suddenly appeared.
      ‘Well?’ asked the others of the wizard when he had joined them at the back of the room.
      ‘The Drátheome is not far, just as the map shows,’ said the wizard. ‘But it will be difficult for us to get there unseen. There are a number of Goblyns wandering about, and Sirithryn as well.’
      ‘What are those?’ asked Talen.
      ‘High priests of the Deathlord,’ answered Raavan. ‘They are very dangerous indeed. A Sirith can destroy your mind without raising so much as a finger toward you. Then again, that’s not saying much, I suppose, since they have no fingers.’
      ‘Did you see Him ?’ asked Burak.
      ‘Silgoth?’ said Raavan. ‘No. He wasn’t in the Drátheome and probably won’t be making his appearance there until the Darkening is at hand.’
      ‘Which is about five hours from now,’ added Valainis.
      ‘Yes,’ said Raavan. ‘That should be enough time for us to get into position, and have only a brief wait afterward. There is a high tier round the outside wall of the Drátheome which is largely inaccessible. There we should be able to remain unseen till the proper time comes.’
      ‘How will we know the time?’ asked Burak.
      ‘You needn’t know the time,’ replied Raavan, ‘but the archers do, for they will make the first strike. When the moment arrives I shall appear on the floor of the Drátheome some distance behind Silgoth himself. At that point Valainis and the Elflings can empty their quivers into the Deathlord while I engage him directly. But you must not strike until you see me appear! Remember: it is not only the Deathlord we aim to destroy, but the very Power which has enabled the rise of Deathlords in Entira for millennia. We must strike during the critical period when the Unsundering is taking place. This is the only way that we might be able to destroy the Thread.’
      ‘I hope you’re right about this, Raavan,’ said Valainis.
      ‘So do I,’ said the wizard.
      ‘How will we get up to that tier in the Drátheome?’ asked Berethir. ‘You said it was mostly inaccessible.’
      ‘I did,’ said Raavan, now glancing about the room. ‘We need to find a few lengths of rope and then fashion a few hooks for the ends.’
      Quietly they rummaged through the boxes till they found what they needed. Several lengths of rope were taken and each was fitted with whatever they could find that would act like a hook. Soon they were ready to move out.
      ‘Wait!’ said Raavan. ‘Only one at a time! We must go invisibly and I cannot keep the spell on the whole crowd of us at once. It will drain my strength enough just to do it this way, and I still have Silgoth to face. Let the archers come first, as they will play the most crucial role.’
      With that Raavan took Valainis to the door and placing a hand on the Elf’s shoulder he whispered something under his breath. The pair disappeared just as Raavan had done before. They were gone for some time before Raavan appeared again at the doorway.
      Next it was Falco’s turn. Taking the second rope and grasping the hilt of his Elven blade in the other hand he stepped toward the door with the wizard. Another brief incantation was made and then they were gone. Time dragged on for the others as they waited for the wizard to return. A quick check of the Hemiglobe showed that they had about four hours left, and at this rate it would take them at least another hour till they all were in place. Should anything cause them to incur an additional delay it may get very close indeed.
      When the wizard finally returned for Talen he informed the others that there would be a change of plans. The effort of escorting each of them invisibly to the Drátheome was taxing the wizard overmuch, threatening to drain him of the strength he would need in confronting Silgoth. For this reason the wizard decided that only the archers should lie in wait in the Drátheome, and that the others would have to remain behind in the storeroom till the time of the Darkening. This plan was not met with much enthusiasm.
      ‘This is insane!’ said Berethir. ‘How are we to protect you and the archers from Silgoth’s servants while you are engaged with the Deathlord?’
      ‘You shall still be able to do precisely that,’ said Raavan, ‘but up until the actual moment of the eclipse you would have nothing to do anyway. The only difference is that you will wait here instead of in the Drátheome, where you would have been more likely to be discovered by the Sirithryn. This way you can come charging into the ritual chamber at the needed moment and need not bother with climbing down ropes and such. I think it will work out much better.’
      ‘But how will we even know when to come?’ asked Berethir, unconvinced.
      ‘Talen will leave the Hemiglobe with you,’ answered the wizard. ‘He will have no use for it now anyway. You will not be able to judge the time precisely with it, but when the noon hour approaches you should notice an emptying of the halls as Silgoth’s remaining servants either join him in the Drátheome or take their places out on the battlefield. You should be able to make your way safely enough to the ritual chamber when the time comes. But you must be very careful not to alert Silgoth or any of the Sirithryn to your presence if you arrive early! You should be able to find sufficient cover in the antechamber to the Drátheome till it is time for you to make your charge.’
      ‘All right, then,’ continued the wizard. ‘Are you ready, Talen?’
      ‘Yes, but I have one question,’ said the Elfling. ‘How does Falco’s sword Athrónath fit into our plan? Surely you have not forgot the vision of the seeress?’
      ‘I am not sure that that talisman has any part to play in this,’ answered the wizard. ‘Of course, it may be that I am wrong, but in that case the blade will see its own way to the fulfilment of its destiny. I don’t think we need worry about that.’
      With that the wizard cast his spell and the twain went invisibly through the open door. Once out in the hallway they turned left and continued on till they came to a T-junction. Here they again turned left and then immediately turned right when they came to a corner. They went very slowly, for it was not enough to be invisible: they also needed to be absolutely silent. With great care and patience they stole down the wide corridor, keeping close to the wall just in case any foe should come by that way.
      As luck would have it, an encounter with the enemy was indeed in store for them, for after they had passed one passage on their left and were nearing another a very strange and hideous creature came silently round the corner at the end of this corridor, still some distance away. Raavan froze, as did the Elfling. As Talen watched the tall creature move awkwardly toward them he could feel Raavan’s hand pushing him flat against the wall.
      Now Talen could see what manner of creature this was. It was dressed in a long, white robe that hung down to its bony, unshod feet. The head itself looked like no more than the skull of some large goat, with pitch black eyes and long horns that curved back over its shoulders. The creature appeared to have no mouth whatsoever, and rather than hands it had one enormously long claw at the end of each arm.
      ‘That must be a Sirith,’ thought Talen, ‘one of the Deathlord’s high priests.’ Then he remembered the words whispered to him by Raavan when they left the storeroom:
      If we encounter any Sirithryn you must clear your mind of all thoughts, for they can detect even the smallest churnings inside your skull .
      Yet as the beast approached all of Talen’s thoughts quickly fled him, for he soon was gripped by an unreasoning terror. Though the creature appeared to have no weapons its mere presence cast a dread on any who were close. Talen held his breath and with wide eyes he watched as the beast abruptly halted, looking round with evident suspicion. Now the creature began to sniff the stale air not far from where the two companions stood, bobbing and rotating its head in the queerest fashion as it sought to close in on some elusive scent.
      When the horrific creature stood only some six feet from the silent and invisible companions and their discovery seemed almost inevitable, from the passageway on their left came a harsh voice:
      Shgolug hor thronk. Lugakh, kobgoil pol moange!
      Now the Sirith’s attention was diverted as it moved off a short distance to meet the approaching Goblyn. The Sirith spoke with the spawn in a deep and guttural voice then as the monsters retreated down the hallway from whence the Sirith had come. When they had disappeared round the corner Talen let out a deep sigh of relief.
      Raavan continued to lead the Elfling slowly down the corridor. Soon they reached the corner round which the monsters had disappeared. When they had rounded the corner Talen saw that the hallway which they followed appeared to form a large square. Some distance ahead a single corridor branched off toward the interior of the square, off to the right. Before long they had reached the corridor and turning right they followed it. Beyond a modest antechamber Talen could see a large, circular hall lit with a strange red glow.
      Before they could enter the great hall they were compelled to cower against the back wall of the antechamber as another of the strange Sirithryn shambled awkwardly by from the direction of the immense chamber. This time the creature did not seem to take any notice of the infiltrators but continued hurriedly on its way. The pair continued into the ornate hall.
      Talen gathered that the place they now were entering must be the Drátheome where Raavan believed the ritual of the Unsundering would take place in just a few short hours. The chamber was immense, with a high domed ceiling and a circular outer wall flanked by rows of ornate columns that supported a single tier above. In the centre of the wide floor was a circular orifice from which emanated a red glow and the smell of sulphur. This, Talen reckoned, must be the Koreron, for he could see that the shaft continued through a hole in the domed ceiling.
      As the chamber appeared currently unattended they hurriedly got to work setting Talen’s rope in place for his climb to the upper tier. After only two failed tosses of the rope they were able to get the hook to catch on the rope itself after encircling the upper portion of a support column. Though it was not a short climb, Raavan held the lower end of the rope firmly and the Elfling was able to scurry up to the balcony without great difficulty. When he reached the top he pulled his rope up behind him, keeping the hook in place round the pillar. This would be his way down when the time came to flee.
      Once this was done the Elfling suddenly noticed that he no longer was invisible, though the wizard remained unseen. Crouching in the shadows he began to familiarize himself with his surroundings. From his high perch he could see a short distance down the Koreron. Its shiny walls reflected the red glow from the Hélpools at the bottom. In the dim light that resulted he also could see that many intricate patterns were carved into the stone floor and into the columns that marched round the periphery.
      Talen nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
      ‘Shhh!’ whispered Falco, who was standing behind him.
      ‘You nearly scared me to death!’ whispered Talen back to the other Elfling.
      ‘Well, don’t go dying on us just yet,’ replied Falco. ‘We’ve got one final task to do. Look over there: Valainis is waving at us. See, Raavan has placed us at three equal places round the circle. Just about anywhere he goes Silgoth will be in our crossfire. Have you seen the Sirithryn?’
      ‘Yes!’ whispered Talen. ‘Raavan and I had a very close encounter with one.’
      ‘Well, you’ll see more of them,’ said Falco. ‘They’ve been coming and going, checking on things, making sure all is in readiness for the Unsundering. See over there by that column? There’s an altar with a wicked looking knife on it, and that book there looks like the Nurune Codex.’
      ‘That makes sense,’ said Talen, ‘but I wonder what the knife is for.’
      ‘Maybe Silgoth’s going to sacrifice someone,’ suggested Falco.
      ‘Alarus didn’t mention anything about a sacrifice,’ said Talen.
      ‘Well, it may have gotten lost in translation,’ said Falco. ‘Anyway, it’ll be only a little longer, and then this will all be over.’ Then, looking Talen in the face he shook the other Elfling’s hand. ‘You’ve always been a good friend to me, Talen. It will be an honour to die here for such a noble cause, and with such distinguished fellows.’
      ‘What do you mean?’ said Talen. ‘We’re not going to die! We’re all going to survive this and go home again—yourself included.’
      ‘Perhaps,’ said Falco. ‘But enough talk: a Sirith approaches, and I must return to my post. Remember: clear your mind! ’
      Talen did his best to do just that, but Falco’s words disturbed him greatly. What if Falco is right? thought Talen to himself. What if we don’t all survive the coming confrontation? I don’t know if I could bear to lose any of these dear friends. Losing Fifin was hard enough...
      Now the Elfling retreated into the darkness as the Sirith finished looking over the altar and began ambling toward the Koreron. Sitting with his back against the outer wall of the dome he closed his eyes and rested his mind. He hadn’t realised till then just how tired he was. Fighting spawn, fleeing from demons, climbing literally hundreds of steps—all that and on little sleep. It is perhaps no wonder that the weariness caught up with him now when he had nothing to do but wait. Before he knew it he was sound asleep.
       
       
      Talen awoke with a start. Above him he could hear the grinding and clanking sounds of large machinery springing into operation. Streaming down through the hole in the ceiling came bright rays of sunlight as some outer door was apparently now being opened. The sun shone almost directly into the Koreron as round the smoking orifice the Sirithryn gathered. They stood in a circle with heads bowed and eyes shut, humming incessantly in a deep, sonorous tone.
      Noon approaches! thought Talen with alarm. The eclipse—it is almost here! With that he took up his bow and nocked an arrow, though he remained as far back from the edge of the balcony as he could, for the light streaming down from above threatened to give him away.
      Now a hooded figure in a red robe entered the hall. He went to the altar to take up the codex and then moved to within the circle of Sirithryn. There he stood gazing down into the Koreron as the incessant humming continued. An evil blackness seemed somehow to emanate from his very being, and try though he might, Talen could not see the figure’s face beneath his dark hood.
      Silgoth! thought Talen. So that is my mark, though I wish he were not facing this direction—it will be hard enough to avoid being seen with all this sunlight.
      Now a pair of Goblyns entered the chamber grasping roughly at the arms of a beautiful young lady. She was stark naked and appeared to be terrified beyond knowing. Her soft, pale skin and innocent features struck a sharp contrast with the hard stone of this place and the hideous nature of the scene which was unfolding about her. The Goblyns placed the maiden on the stone altar where she was bound and the sacrificial knife laid gently upon her breast. She appeared too horrified even to scream. The spawn retreated as a Sirith chased them from the hall.
      Presently Silgoth began to read from the codex in a loud, sepulchral voice:
       
       
      This is it , thought Talen. He checked his bowstring and wiped his sweaty hands on his cloak. Now he just needed to wait for the signal, and then it would begin.
       
       
      Suddenly Talen realised that the sunlight had been imperceptibly fading in intensity for some minutes, and already it was at no more than half strength. It is the eclipse! The moon must be moving now to obscure the sun , thought he as he watched the scene continue to play out below.
       
       
      The sonorous humming of the Sirithryn continued as the maiden now began to scream at the top of her lungs. Talen could feel his hairs begin to stand on end as his whole body tensed up with extreme anxiety. The air was charged with a strange energy. The Elfling now wondered how much more of this he would be able to stand before he broke and went insane. He felt a desperate urge to cover his ears and run screaming from the hall, yet he held his place.
       
       
      Now the Deathlord suddenly closed the tome and strode over to the unfortunate young lady on the altar. Talen could see that she fainted as Silgoth stood before her. Taking the vile knife in both hands he raised it over his head. No! thought Talen as he pulled harder on the bowstring and prepared to release his missile. Where is Raavan? thought Talen desperately. It is going to be too late! The darkness deepened still further as the moon eclipsed the sun.
       
       
      Suddenly the wizard appeared out of thin air just a few paces behind the Deathlord. The sun had now ceased to shine down from above. In the dim reddish light of the Koreron three arrows sped toward their target. With arms still upraised the Deathlord looked down to observe three shafts protruding from his chest. Dropping the blade, he turned to see Raavan facing him, his hands held aloft and Fheoir still in its sheath.
      As the next three missiles were released a winding mass of blue lightning suddenly sprung forth from Raavan’s gloved hands to strike the robed figure before him. Yet, a like mass of red bolts blazed forth from the Deathlord’s own fingers, and in this way the two assailed one another with their awesome wizardly powers. As the exchange continued the Sirithryn abandoned their places round the Koreron to surround the dueling figures.
      Into the Drátheome rushed a small group of Goblyns, yet these were immediately followed by the four companions who had been waiting behind. As the Goblyns were unarmed they were quickly cut down by the two men and the Dwarves. Now the four turned their attention to the Sirithryn as Raavan and Silgoth continued to exchange their pulsing flashes of power.
      As the arrows continued to fly toward the Deathlord Noromendor flashed its green light in the dim chamber to cleave heads and limbs from the bodies of the Sirithryn. The others held back, engaging only those foe who tried to flee Alatar’s wrath. Talen could see as he paused in his firing that the man’s face was grim indeed as he unmercifully hacked the Dark Lord’s high priests to death. When the remaining Sirithryn saw what formidable power lay in this sword and in the man who wielded it they fled the room as the four companions gave chase.
      Now the contest was between Raavan and Silgoth alone, for the archers’ arrows no longer were able to penetrate the twisting mass of lightning bolts that surrounded the twain. Though Raavan had appeared hale enough when the contest began, his powers now were rapidly being drained. He appeared thin and weak, as if on the verge of collapse.
      And collapse he soon did, for the awesome power of the Deathlord’s sorcery was simply too great for the old man to withstand. He fell down upon the stone floor, apparently dead, as the Deathlord ceased his attack.
      No! thought Talen as he saw the wizard fall. Yet with even greater alarm he saw that Falco had descended to the floor below and even now was approaching the Deathlord from behind. The Elfling held the brightly glowing blade in his small hand as he rushed at Silgoth’s back. Athrónath bit into the Deathlord’s leg, but a powerful swipe of the foe’s hand sent Falco and his blade sprawling across the floor, the Elfling one way and the sword another.
      By now Talen had himself slipped down to the floor below, and Valainis soon was following suit. As Talen sped across the wide chamber the Deathlord grabbed Falco with one hand and lifted him into the air. Valainis was yet climbing down his rope when Talen retrieved Athrónath from where it lay.
      With a nearly effortless movement the Deathlord now cast Falco into the Koreron. Talen watched in disbelief as his fully conscious friend sailed through the air to disappear into the smoky red glow of the shiny lava tube.
      Suddenly a rage came boiling up inside Talen’s brain. It was a degree of anger which the small Elfling had never known. The blade of Athrónath began to shine so brightly that it nearly blinded the Elfling. The sword began to sing with a high-pitched ringing sound that grew in intensity till it was nearly deafening. All the chamber was now lit up in the bright red hue of its angry glow.
      Now driven by a wrath wholly unknown to the diminutive warrior, Talen rushed with all speed toward the Deathlord, with no thought other than to utterly destroy the one who had killed his dear friends. As the robed figure turned to face the rushing Elfling his assailant leapt into the air. The look on Talen’s face was terrible to behold as he drove the raging blade deep into the Deathlord’s chest. The necromancer staggered backward, throwing Talen from him. Suddenly there was a powerful burst of light accompanied by a thundrous roar. And that is all the Elfling knew, for as his head struck the hard stone floor all went utterly black.