Chapter 18

When Talen awoke he was surprised to see sunlight streaming down from above. The eclipse was broken, and the sun ruled the skies once again. Now Valainis came to help the Elfling as he struggled to sit up.
      ‘Where is he?’ asked Talen as he looked fearfully about.
      ‘Who do you mean?’ asked Valainis.
      ‘Silgoth!’ replied the Elfling. ‘Where is he?’
      ‘All over the place,’ answered the Elf, gesturing to the detritus that littered the floor. ‘He exploded shortly after you thrust Athrónath into his breast. I’m afraid the sword is gone, too.’ Then shaking his head somberly he added, ‘Poor Falco: he will miss the blade sorely.’
      ‘But Falco is dead,’ said Talen.
      ‘There you’re wrong,’ said the Elf with a crafty smile.
      Now as Talen turned his gaze toward the Koreron he saw that Burak was there hauling on a taught rope that extended down into the open shaft. The Elfling struggled to his feet with the help of Valainis. When he reached the edge of the Koreron he saw that the other end of the rope was tied round a groggy-looking Falco, who held weakly onto the line. Some distance below him stood Alatar on a narrow ledge.
      Talen now saw as he looked deep into the pit that many doorways opened onto the shaft, and extending a short distance from each of these was a stone ledge. Falco must have landed on the topmost ledge when Silgoth threw him into the Koreron. By all appearances he must have taken a bad fall, for he was bruised all over, and his left arm hung in a sling.
      Yet Talen was so pleased to see his friend alive that he cried for joy. When Falco had been hoisted all the way to the top the two embraced, and Talen saw that tears welled up in Falco’s eyes as well.
      ‘You did it, Talen,’ said Falco. ‘You destroyed the Deathlord.’
      ‘We all did it,’ said Talen. ‘None of us could have done it alone. Now it is finally over.’
      ‘Not entirely,’ came a familiar voice from behind Talen. Turning round the Elfling saw a weak old man standing there.
      ‘Raavan!’ exclaimed the youth. ‘You are alive!’
      ‘Barely,’ said the wizard. ‘This entire episode has drained me. How is your head?’
      ‘It hurts,’ replied Talen.
      ‘It should,’ replied the wizard. ‘I am told you took a nasty fall after delivering Athrónath to its rightful place. Good work, lad.’
      The Elfling hung his head modestly. Though his head throbbed with pain he was happier than ever to know that his two good friends were still alive. Now looking up he saw Alatar come climbing to the ledge as Burak heaved on the rope.
      ‘What did you mean when you said it’s not entirely over?’ asked Falco of the wizard.
      ‘There is still a horde of spawn to tame,’ answered the wizard weakly. ‘Meledrü has climbed to the Díoma to see how much of Silgoth’s army remains, but he has not yet reported back. We shall join him there as soon as all are ready.’
      Soon they prepared to move out. Though they all were very weary and some of them had sustained injuries they all were able to hobble along well enough. The young lady who had narrowly escaped the cruel steel of Silgoth’s sacrificial blade was now clothed in filthy spawn raiment. Though she appeared to be uninjured and followed along willingly with the companions she did not speak, for she suffered from complete emotional exhaustion.
      As soon as they left the Drátheome they were greeted by Meledrü. The Dwarf led them past an intersecting hallway and then up a flight of steps on their left. Now they were on the topmost level of the ancient Dwarvenholt. Here plainly had been the abode of the Deathlord, for a fine red carpet stretched down the main corridor unsoiled by Goblyn boots. They followed the carpet till they came to an open door leading to the outside.
      Once outside they sat on the broad stone steps which marched down the mountainside. These Meledrü informed them were the Steps of Talakaraknu. Halfway down the mountain the stairs could be seen to split as one path curved round the side of the mount toward a large dam while the other continued down to the Thrôngate at the edge of the plain below. Here the companions had a view of nearly all the lands about Hélethrôn, for they now were very close to the peak of the mountain. To the east were the Yultauron Mountains, to the west the great inland sea which was called the Silimar, and to the south lay Eochäil, the northernmost plain of Tath.
      On that plain could be seen a terrific battle raging between spawn on the one hand and the combined forces of men, Elves, and Dwarves on the other. Though the battle could be seen nearby on the plain of Eochäil it also extended south far into the desolate land of Tath, though the companions’ vision fell short of that great distance.
      They sat there for some minutes gathering their strength and breathing deeply the fresh, open air. Though many spawn could be seen fleeing across the Atha to take refuge in the mountains, many yet remained and the allies still were clearly outnumbered.
      As he watched the battle unfolding below Talen noticed that the spawn had a number of immense black creatures among them which he did not recognise. These massive beasts went about on two legs and were balanced by an extremely long and muscular tail. Though they had no arms they wrought terrible destruction by sinking their horns or their teeth into their enemies, swiping them with their powerful tail, or simply trampling them underfoot.
      ‘Those are the Dredgion,’ said Raavan. ‘They are ridden by Naegrim, and are nigh invincible. Indeed, it was at least partly for the purpose of employing the great beasts that Silgoth bred the Naegrim, for it is said they will bear no other rider.’
      ‘What can be done about them?’ asked Talen.
      ‘Fortunately, I don’t think we will need to do anything about them,’ said Raavan. ‘Look!’
      Now far in the distance the companions could see an orange glow which appeared in concentrated spots for seconds at a time.
      ‘What is that?’ asked Talen.
      ‘Dragons’ breath,’ answered the wizard. ‘It would appear that our friend Cirithren has come through after all. Look: one comes winging now into view.’
      Over the next several minutes they watched as the Dragons approach from the south. There were five or six of them in all, most of them green, but a few black. They concentrated their efforts on the Dredgion, engulfing each one in flames before moving on to the next. There were a few bands of Oghors among the spawn as well, and wherever these occured the Dragons helped themselves to a quick meal.
      When all the Dredgion were destroyed most of the drakes gathered in an open area off to the west to feed on the pile of Oghors which they had formed there. Two of them instead approached the mount where the companions sat resting. One of these flew over the peak to perch some distance away on the side of the mountain while the other set down near the companions. It was Cirithren.
      ‘Greetings, old friend,’ said the drake to Raavan.
      ‘Hello, Cirithren,’ said the wizard with a weak smile.
      ‘Thou lookest like a drowned ox,’ said the Dragon.
      ‘I feel like one,’ replied Raavan.
      ‘Perhaps some fresh Oghor meat would replenish thy strength,’ offered the drake.
      ‘I don’t think so,’ said Raavan. ‘What I need is a very long rest. Today has been more taxing for me than any other I can remember.’
      ‘Hast thou then vanquished the Evil One?’ asked Cirithren.
      ‘Yes,’ answered Raavan, ‘it is done.’
      ‘Very well,’ said the Dragon, ‘then the rest can be handled by the others. My brethren and I have reduced the horde for them somewhat. Now they shall fly off with their reward. My cousin Aonathryn and I shall remain a bit longer and see that thine allies are not unduly strained in their quest for victory.’
      ‘I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your help,’ said Raavan.
      ‘No,’ said the drake, ‘it is I who am grateful for the chance to claim some measure of vengeance. The pain has lived long in my heart. I think that now it may begin to heal somewhat.’
      ‘I am glad to hear that,’ said Raavan. ‘Now, if I could beg of you just one more favour: it would be helpful if we could join the commanders on the field. Now that I have seen at least this part of the battle from above I would like to see if I can be of some assistance to the generals as they continue to shape their offensive.’
      ‘Of course,’ said the Dragon.
      Though not all those who listened knew what was meant by this exchange it soon was made clear, for once Cirithren had summoned the other Dragon to join him the companions were permitted to climb onto the backs of the great beasts. This of course met with some hesitation on the part of many of the riders, but soon they all were mounted and ready to go. Talen sat between the wings of Aonathryn and grasped tightly to a large fin projecting from his back. The drakes flew slowly and kept relatively level so as not to throw their riders, and soon they touched down on the plain some distance behind the allies.
      Now the Dragons took to the skies once again, circling high above and coming down only occasionally to offer their assistance when one company or another was seen to be in grave danger. Much of the time Talen could not see either of them at all, for the battle sprawled over many miles and the drakes wandered slowly along its length.
      Now the companions joined Kings Cenedain, Khazâl, Ceirdain, and Caelebrin, whose forces all were deployed some fifty miles south of Eochäil in the desolate plains of Tath, as were the men of King Telurin. Though the Dredgion no longer were a threat to the allies plenty of Goblyns, Troells, Ghakhen, and Naegrim remained. If Talen wondered that the spawn even kept up the fight at all, given that their Deathlord had been destroyed, he soon realised that many fought on simply because they were confronted by their hated enemies and were doing a fair job of reducing their numbers. They now were caught up in the bloodlust of battle, and many of them would not be free of it till they were dead.
      Though Raavan was too weak to enter the battle itself he joined the assembled kings and generals and offered them his guidance in the command of their forces. Most of the other companions however went forth to fight alongside their brethren and allies, for every sword and axe and bow and spear that could be raised against the enemy was of vital importance in securing victory.
      Meledrü and Burak fought beside their Dwarven brethren from Mornaru, Thorwald, Dalathrôn, and Druindor, as well as those that had come all the way from the Belling Hills and Ihm-ennar. With his axe Tuin Burak clove a bloody path through the spawn, often splitting their chests open to reveal their black hearts. Alongside him went Meledrü, who lopped off heads left and right with his broadsword Tochaireámh, sometimes two or three in a single stroke. Together the two Dwarves carved a deep swath into the horde, into which their brethren then followed. Many of those other Dwarves later would attest that the two left in their wake a sea of dead spawn unlike that which any had seen before.
      Berethir joined in with his fellow men from Pencairn and quickly assumed command of his old regiment. The great bear of a man could be seen from afar swinging his broadsword Ardross in great circles about him. Wherever he went spawn heads flew through the air, and many of the men under his command would later complain in jest that they had been knocked nearly senseless after being struck by one of the flying skulls.
      Whenever Berethir tired of this mode of warfare he switched instead to an overhand stroke, which invariably clove the enemy clean in two. Indeed, for those who accompanied the big man it was a grewsome sight indeed to see the two halves of a Goblyn or a Troell suddenly part to lie twitching on the ground with their glistening innards spilling out.
      Though Talen’s head still ached from his fall in Hélethrôn he took up his blade and went forth with Valainis—as did Falco, though the bones in his left arm were broken in several places, leaving him in agonising pain. The hot-blooded Elfling snatched a short-sword from a dead Troell and followed Talen and Valainis out onto the battlefield, despite their every protestation, for the fierce little warrior could not be subdued by any means. He and Talen stayed behind Valainis, giving the Elf support whenever he was beset by more opponents than he could easily handle, and together the Elflings were able to dispatch enemies that neither would have been able to face alone.
      Quickly they fell into a rhythm of coordinated strokes against which no foe was able to completely fend. Troells and Goblyns and even Ghakhen and the dead-eyed Naegrim fell to the diminutive warriors, who with their tall Elven friend formed an efficient killing machine. What spawn were able to survive the lightning-quick strokes of the Elf’s blade Lingwäe ultimately fell to the tiny terrors from Laurelindor.
      Perhaps most heartening to the allies however was the sight of the three Swords of Power in action, for wherever their flame was carried, seared spawn fell dead, and emboldened men followed behind. While Cenedain bore the red flame of Nifredir southward toward the forces of his Arnedian countrymen, Telurin and Alatar pushed northward toward the Dwarven armies that were chopping their way across the plains of Eochäil. With the blue light of Niisilme at his beck Telurin fought proudly beside his respected elder Alatar.
      For hours the pair fought together, side by side, and none could touch them, for their combined power was unmatched by any creature on the battlefield, whether spawn or man or Elf or Dwarf. Where these two men went spawn fell to the ground not merely dead and mutilated, but smoking or even in flames, for the searing action of the Swords of Power was made all the more potent by the fiery will of their noble wielders.
      In the years that followed, legends would be told of the two kings who swept like an unstoppable flame through the horde, inspiring acts of gallantry wherever they were seen. It would be said that though the twain were not in fact blood-kin they fought together as would father and son, King and Prince, and that later a bond of friendship would form so strongly between them that their two nations would become the closest allies ever among the world of men.
      Even Airi played a vital role in the effective destruction of Silgoth’s horde, for the owl bore written messages between the three camps of the allied leaders. In this way Raavan and the allies in central Tath were able to coordinate their efforts with the four Dwarven kings in the north and with the men of Arnedia and the Elves who fought beside them in the south.
      By nightfall the allies had claimed victory over the spawn, though it had come at a terrible price: over half their numbers had been felled battling the vile creatures, and quite a number of those lost were captains and generals and others of varying importance and nobility. Also it was widely recognised that though the horde had been defeated many of the spawn had fled into the Yultauron mountains in the north or into Druadaneth in the south. Though the notion of an eventual cleansing of those places was liberally entertained round the many campfires that dotted Tath that night, such endeavors would have to wait some years till the strength of the allied forces could be renewed.
      More immediate progress along these lines was made by the Dwarves. After dark they stormed into Hélethrôn, the legendary Kâlandelf of old from which the Dwarves had been in exile for over four thousand years. Though they would not be able to evict the demons who dwelt in Hélethrôn’s depths they swore at least that a permanent re-colonisation would begin as soon as all the spawn could be rooted out of its many tunnels and passageways. Never again would they permit the likes of Omenaton or Silgoth to use the Dwarvenholt as a base from which to wage war on all of Entira. This ancient gem would remain in Dwarven hands henceforth, fulfiling the millennial dream of all Entiran Dwarves.
      Though the victors were surely very wearied by their exertions in battle much work remained after dark for any who possessed healing skills. Many of those who survived bore injuries requiring immediate attention, and those who still were able-bodied lent their help to those in need. Though Raavan still was quite drained from his encounter with Silgoth he sat up long into the night as the injured were brought to him for medical attention. Together he and Alatar were able to save many of those who would not otherwise have survived the night, and they were remembered kindly for generations afterward by the descendents of those who were thus spared an early death.
      Talen and Falco fell asleep as soon as their own wounds were tended by Alatar. The bones in Falco’s arm had to be set again, but so weary was the Elfling by this time that he barely felt the pain. The two slept through the night and most of the next day, waking only long enough to take lunch and dinner. On the third day they began to move about some more as the soreness in their muscles started to fade.
      It was on this day also that they were paid a very welcome visit from a friend most dear and sorely missed since their ways had parted some weeks ago. When they saw the smiling face of Dannadar the two Elflings nearly jumped for joy. The three laughed and cried, so happy were they to see their dear fellows in good health.
      Talen and Falco were relieved and indeed amazed to see that the younger Elfling had passed through the battle entirely unscathed. He had led a company of Arnedian archers against the spawn just north of Druadaneth, and where their arrows rained great swaths of spawn had fallen dead. Were it not for their deadly shafts the men of Arnedia would surely have suffered greater casualties than they did, and for that their Arnedian leaders were most grateful. Indeed, it had already been made known to Dannadar that Cenedain planned to grant him an honorary lordship, and that he would not be permitted to refuse the offer.
      After listening to their young friend’s impressive account Talen and Falco told of their own adventures, beginning with their oversea voyage to Pencairn and ending with the destruction of Silgoth within Hélethrôn. By the time they had finished it was late at night and the three retired to their tent for the evening.
      On the fourth day the hosts were ready to return to their respective homelands, for the wounded had received what treatment could be administered to them in the field and were well enough at least to be moved into waggons for the journey home. This inevitably called for a number of good-byes.
      Chief among these was that between Meledrü and the remaining companions. While Meledrü was to take a leading role in the purging and re-colonisation of Hélethrôn, the other companions would not be parting company for several days at least, as their paths all lay for now to the east. Though his inclusion in the company had been forced on them by his King Baradren the companions had all developed a great respect for their grim but loyal comrade. They all shook his hand and exchanged smiles and well-wishes with the mighty warrior. Burak had become especially fond of his new friend, and after embracing him he promised that he would visit Hélethrôn as often as practicable to check on the progress. This was news most welcome to Meledrü, who now looked on Burak as a brother.
      Raavan bade good-bye to King Baaragh of Mornaru and King Silgruin of Dalathrôn and urged them to work closely with the other Dwarven kings in the matter of Hélethrôn. Though the wizard was of course pleased to hear of their plans for re-establishing a presence in the ancient Dwarvenholt he reminded them that the loss of that kingdom had in large part been due to a lack of solidarity between the different Dwarf tribes. They assured the wizard that never again would a difference of opinion be allowed to come between their peoples. They predicted that through mutual cooperation the northern kingdoms would make Tolor and Tath safe again for travellers, promoting greater trade between the nations, and the benefits of this would of course extend in many ways even to more distant parts of Entira.
      King Cenedain was of course unhappy to part ways with the Elflings—especially Dannadar, who had served him well on the battlefield. He reminded them once more that he had not forgotten their part in foiling his would-be assassin and urged them not to hesitate to call on him should they ever be in any need. The Elflings wished the noble king a safe journey and sent their warmest regards to his daughter Kalea, whom they missed greatly. They promised to visit Greycastle in the near future, and they also assured the king that they would wear their royal livery with the greatest pride when they returned to their homeland of Laurelindor.