Into the fire

Chapter 15

At first I thought they were falling victim to the plague," said Tipperton, urging his pony around a tangle of brush, two pack ponies following. "Even though both Loric and Phais had said Elves don't fall ill to the dark scourge."

Bekki nodded but otherwise did not reply.

"It must be awful, this 'gift' of theirs-more like a curse if you ask me-to know when someone dies."

"This was not a 'Death Rede' sent from one Elf to another," said Bekki, "but a thing much worse: not a single 'someone' calling out in death, but hundreds and hundreds crying out instead."

Tipperton shivered, as if struck by a sudden chill. "Still, I would think it somehow connected to their gift… How horrible it must have been: like a ghastly wind blowing cold through the souls of all Elvenkind."

Bekki grunted, then said, "I cannot but think the thunderous sounds we heard-the first one and then the one after-are in some manner connected to the deaths of so many."

"Oh, Bekki, did I tell you I heard another just like it only fainter in the depths of the night?"

Bekki looked at Tip.

"Three or four candlemarks past mid of night, I would say," added Tip.

"Hmm, three rolling thunders in all." Brow furrowed, Bekki fell into thought, then said, "Mayhap as loud as was the first, mayhap the sound came to the walls of the world and was echoed back… Yes, that must be it, Tipperton, for it would account for each echo being less than the one before."

Tip shrugged, saying, "Or if the Elves are right and the world is truly a ball, a sphere, perhaps the noise circles all the way 'round and passes by again."

Bekki snorted in disbelief as on they rode, angling slightly north of west.

"Oh, Bekki, whether an echo from the walls of the world or the sound passing 'round the world, if we are right, it means there's not another disaster, or two or three, but the sound of the first knelling over and again."

They rode another mile, and then Bekki said, "Aye, Tipperton, yet think: if the sound reaches all the way to the walls of the world to echo again and again, then what a terrible blast it must have been."

As Tip stood the midwatch, just ere mid of night, another faint thunder grumbled. Another echo from the walls of the world? That or the sound ringing 'round.

Onward they rode, and in late morn of the third day from Dendor, Tip thought he heard a very dim echo of the boom again, yet he couldn't be sure.

"I say, Bekki, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"The sound, so weak as to be all but silent."

Bekki shook his head.

They rode a bit farther, then Tip said, "A final echo from the walls of the world, do you think?"

"That, or distant thunder," replied Bekki, then he looked at the clear July day and shook his head and the two of them rode onward.

On the fourth day out from Dendor, Tip looked up at the sky and said, "Ho, Bekki. Does it seem to you that the day isn't as bright as it ought to be?"

Bekki nodded. "Aye, though I see no mist, no fog, no clouds."

But as they fared west, the light diminished, as if the sun itself somehow weakened.

That evening, a layer of clouds began to form high above.

"There is our answer," said Bekki.

"Answer?"

"Aye. It is preparing to rain."

"And…?"

"And the light grew dimmer and dimmer today as the rain started gathering above," declared Bekki.

"Perhaps," said Tip, uncertain.

They rode awhile in silence, then Bekki said, "There is a thicket ahead where we can camp."

But Tip was staring beyond the thicket at the cloud-filled sky made bloodred by the setting sun, and a shiver went down his spine.

It began to rain in the night, and when Tip was awakened for the midwatch, Bekki said, "There is something strange about this rain, Tipperton."

"Oh?"

"Aye. The drops are cloudy."

"Cloudy?"

In the lanternlight Bekki held out a tin cup filled with rainwater.

Tip looked. "Lor', Bekki, it's cloudy all right, positively dusty looking. What do you think it means?"

Bekki shook his head. "That, my friend, I do not know."

It rained throughout the night, and continued the next morning, and by the noontide the drops falling on the ponies and cloaks left long smears behind.

"Adon, Bekki, but it's raining mud."

"More like rain through rock dust," replied Bekki.

"Rain through rock dust?"

"Aye. In the quarries, when it rains, it leaves long grey smears like these."

"But how would rock dust get up in the sky? I mean, are there quarries nearby?"

Bekki shook his head. "None I know of. -Even if there were, by this time all the rock dust would have been washed from the air, yet this is still coming down."

On they rode through a rain falling stone-grey.

The next day dawned to a breathtaking sunrise, the entire vault shifting in stages from indigo to violet to lavender to a bloodred to peach, and then the sun rose in a pale grey-blue sky. Still the morning seemed wan, in spite of the striking dawn.

The day itself grew darker as westerly they rode, as of a grey curtain being drawn up from the west and riding over the sky above.

"Adon, Bekki, but do you think it more dust? Rock dust?"

"Aye, riding on the high winds, it is."

"Gray on grey it is," said Tipperton, turning about. "Running over the sky, behind as well as ahead."

All morning the grey deepened, and by midafternoon it was as if dusk had come, and the sun was dim in the sky.

And then rock dust began to drift down like snow on a July day, coating all things with a layer of pale grey.

"We need cover our mouths with cloth," said Bekki, "and cloth over the noses of the ponies, too."

"I'll do it," said Tip, dismounting. And pulling some of the linen from the sacks, he ripped seven wide strips, gaining the swathes needed to cover the noses of the ponies and Bekki and himself. "Lor', Bekki, lor', what can be the cause?"

"I have never seen such ere now, Tipperton, though I have heard that firemountains at times belch out such dust, or so say the old tales."

"Firemountains, eh?" said Tipperton, glancing into the darkening sky. "I've heard of them but have never seen one. Is there a firemountain nearby?"

"The nearest I know of is Dragonslair in the Grimwall Mountains," replied Bekki, "though I do not think it the cause of this."

"Why not? I mean, if it is a firemountain-"

"The winds are wrong," said Bekki. "This rock dust comes from the west, whereas Dragonslair is far to the east of Kachar, east of Dendor, a thousand miles or more. Too, I am told the fire of that mountain does not burn, though wisps of steam are said to flow into the sky now and again."

"Oh," said Tip, now tying a cloth over his own mouth and nose. "By the bye, just why is it called Dragonslair?"

"It is said that Black Kalgalath holes up in that mountain," said Bekki.

"Black Kalgalath? Isn't he the greatest Dragon of all?"

"Mayhap it's Daagor instead," replied Bekki, now binding a cloth across his face.

"Daagor the renegade?"

Bekki grunted, tying a knot behind.

"I suppose that's neither here nor there," said Tip, his voice a bit muffled by the covering. "Instead, if this is caused by a firemountain somewhere downwind, just which firemountain could it be? Are there such in Gron? Rian? Or farther still in distant Dalara or even beyond in Thol?"

Bekki shook his head. "The only one west I have heard of is Karak on the Isle of Atala, but that is somewhere in the Weston Ocean and far, far removed from here-four thousand miles in the least. Too far I would think to be the cause of this."

Mouths and noses covered, Bekki and Tip donned their all-weather cloaks and mounted the ponies and began riding west through the drifting down dust, and after a while, Tip said, "Tell me, Bekki, what causes firemountains to spew?"

Bekki shrugged. "I know not, though some have said the earth shudders when firemountains roar, yet whether the shudder causes the roaring or the roaring causes the shudder, I cannot say."

They rode another mile before Bekki said, "I suppose the Stone Giants would know."

"Know what?"

"What causes firemountains to spew," replied Bekki.

"Oh," said Tip, brushing rock dust from his shoulders and thighs, a losing effort at best. "You know, until the Mages talked about them in Dendor, I always thought Stone Giants a myth."

"Not so, Tipperton. Not so," said Bekki. "Did I not say that First Durek was saved by the Utruni, the Stone Giants?"

Tip turned up his hands. "I thought it but a tale grown tall in the telling and becoming legend o'er time."

Bekki barked a laugh. "If that were so, then Kraggen-cor would not have been discovered."

"Oh?"

"Aye. First Durek-"

"First Durek? This is Breakdeath Durek, right?"

Bekki nodded. "Aye, we call him that. Deathbreaker Durek, too."

"Why do you call him 'Deathbreaker'?"

"Recall, Tipperton, we Chakka believe that after death, spirits are reborn to walk the earth again, some more often than others. The spirit of First Durek is one which breaks the bonds of Death often."

"Oh, I see. Well then, go on with the tale of the Stone Giants and Durek and Kraggen-cor."

Bekki cleared his throat. "First Durek was exploring in the Grimwalls when he was assaulted by a band of Grg. Howling in glee, from a high stone ledge they flung him into the Vorvor and-"

"Oh wait, Bekki, just what is this, um, Vorvor?"

Bekki growled and held up a hand. "Tipperton, I will never get through this tale if you keep interrupting."

Tip's fingers flew to the dust-laden cloth over his mouth as if to seal his lips, yet he still managed to say, "But, Bekki, you keep using terms I don't know. It's not as if you and I had the same schooling."

Bekki sighed. "Perhaps you are right, Tipperton. Perhaps I need tell it as do the Chakka Loremasters."

"Oh please, Bekki, and I promise not to interrupt again."

Behind the cloth over mouth and nose, Bekki smiled. Then, casting his thoughts back to his tutelage in Mineholt North, Bekki said, "On the northeast quadrant of the Quadran stands a mountain of blue stone- oh, not that it is truly blue, but it bears a tinge of that color. The mountain itself is known as Ghatan, or in the common tongue, Loftcrag.

"In a great fold of stone on Ghatan's southern flank stands the Vorvor, a whirling churning gurge deeply entwined in Chakka legend: there a secret river bursts forth from the understone of Ghatan to rage around a great rock basin and plunge down into the dark again; this is the Vorvor, a great gaping whirlpool raving endlessly, sucking at the sky and funneling deep into the black depths below.

"When the world was young and First Durek trod its margins, he came unto this place. And vile Ukhs, shouting in glee, captured him and from a high stone ledge they flung him into the spin, and the sucking maw drew him down. None else had ever survived that fate; yet First Durek did, though how, it is not said. To the very edge of the Realm of Death, and perhaps beyond, he was taken, yet Life at last found him on a rocky shore within a vast, undelved, undermountain realm; and First Durek strode where none else had gone before-treading through that Kingdom which was to become Kraggen-cor. But at last he came again unto the light of day, and it is said that Dailn Gate stands upon the very spot where he walked out through the mountainside.

"Many have wondered how he managed to live for days, weeks, even months in what to them is nought but a cold stone realm, and to them it remains an enigma. But the Chakka know that he was aided by the Utruni-the Stone Giants-for Utruni admire the work the Chakkakyth do in the undermountain realm, unlike that of the Grg, who destroy the living stone rather than enhance it.

"And so, aided by the Stone Giants, Durek survived to found the great holt of Kraggen-cor, the mightiest Chakka-holt of the five Chakkakyth and one of the few places on Mithgar where starsilver is found.

"Long have the Ukhs rued the day they cast Durek from that high stone ledge, for on that day the enmity with Squam began, more deadly by far than the ravening whirl of the roaring Vorvor."

With eyes wide, Tipperton looked at Bekki. "But Kraggen-cor has been a holt for millennia."

Bekki nodded. "Indeed."

Tip shrugged. "Are you telling me that something which happened thousands of years past still drives you and your kindred to kill Foul Folk?"

Bekki clenched a fist and gritted, "He who seeks the enmity of the Chakka finds it, forever!"

Tipperton shook his head in incomprehension. "I always thought old grudges must die last in the endless days of time."

"Strange will be the day a Chak forgives and forgets."

They rode in silence for a while, the grey stone dust drifting down and down. Finally Tipperton said, "Tell me if you can, how did Durek survive? How did he see in the darkness below? Do you know?"

Bekki shrugged. "As to how he did see, there is a glowing lichen which grows on some rocks nigh understone rivers. Too, there is a phosphorescent moss in some of the caverns. Kraggen-cor in places has both of these. We use a preparation, a leaching, of the lichen and moss to make the Chakka lanterns, wherein no fire need be kindled, nor fuel consumed.

"As to what he did eat: blind fish and water weed, the glowing moss, mushrooms-"

"Mushrooms?"

"Aye, they grow at times in the very same caverns where the moss is found."

"Oh. I see. -But wait. The fish. Did he eat them raw?"

"Aye," replied Bekki, "that and other living things, for he could kindle no fire."

"Other living things?"

"Blind beetles, spiders, wor-"

"Enough, Bekki," cried Tip, shuddering.

Bekki barked a laugh…

… and on they rode through drifting down stone dust under the darkling sky.

They came to the village of Gronkulle, nought but a hamlet on a rounded hill, all the buildings now covered with the stone dust, the town overall a pale grey. But both Tip and Bekki were glad of the village, for as they rode through the powder-covered streets and past dust-laden, canvas-topped wagons, they found it had an inn.

Dismounting, they tied up the ponies at the railing, and through the door and into the common room they trod, shaking dust from cloak and clothing and removing the cloth from their faces. Men sitting at several of the tables- men in armor and bearing weapons-drew in their breaths at the sight of the two. Moving on inward, Tip and Bekki halted before a man in an apron stooping over and whisking a pile of grey dirt into a dustpan.

"Det dr en mork dag vilken bringa du-" Straightening up, the innkeeper's words jerked to a halt when he saw who these new patrons were.

"Sorry, but we don't speak Avenian," said Tipperton, stamping dust from his boots.

"Um, I was saying, it is a dark day which brings you to my inn," replied the 'keep, setting aside the pan and whisk broom. "What will it be?"

"Be?" growled Bekki.

"I mean, what will you have? Rooms? Food? Drink? We've not but a couple of rooms left"-he nodded toward the men at the tables-"what with the drivers and guards heading for the muster, as it were."

"All three, and a bath, too," said Tipperton, briskly rubbing his head, stone dust flying, the innkeeper frowning as it drifted to the floor.

"Have you someone to see to our ponies?" asked Bekki.

"Jarl!" shouted the innkeeper. "Ponnis er ute gata."

A young lad came scrambling down the stairs, his eyes flying wide when he saw the guests, but then he bolted out the door, Tipperton calling after: "Bring in our gear!" Yet whether the lad heard or understood, he did not know.

"A Dwarf and a Waldan: we don't get your like too often 'round here," said the innkeeper, bustling behind the bar. At Bekki's scowl, the man blurted, "Oh, not that there's aught wrong with it-"

"How many other Warrows have you put up?" asked Tip, grinning. "Or for that matter, how many other Dwarves?"

"Well, now that I think of it, you two are the first."

"Hah!" barked Bekki.

The 'keep stooped down and looked under the bar. "Urn, will you be wanting one room or two? And will that be a bath before or after a meal and a mug?"

"One room is fine," said Bekki.

"The bath before," added Tip. "I've got to get free of this dust."

The innkeeper straightened up, latchkey in hand. "Top of the stairs, third room on the right. The bathing room is out back. Jarl will see to the water."

As the two made their way up the stairs, from a nearby table one of the patrons stood and hurried from the room.

Quickly the news spread throughout the village:

One of the Litenfolk -Travelling with a Dva'rg, no less -From Kachar? Them what saved Dendor? -The little one, can he be the one? -The one what the kingsherald told us about?- -Him what snuck through the whole of the Horde?- And as the news spread, folks came through the still-falling dust and into Den Gronkulle Vadrshus-The Greenknoll Inn-though now it and the hill it stood on was anything but green.

"Aye, some came past, months agone, but they steered wide," said one of the men.

"Running for the Grimwall, we think," added the woman at his side.

"Running for the ford, I shouldn't wonder," opined another, lifting her mug.

Tip shoved away his empty wooden bowl, the stew having gone down well. As he took up a chunk of bread, Bekki said, "The ford?"

"Aye, over the Argon, west and north a deal."

"More west than north," amended another.

Bekki glanced at Tip, then said, "The ford a bit west of Nordlake?"

"Aye," came the response.

"If that's where you are headed," added the innkeeper, "then I'd advise not. But if you are bound to go regardless, then watch your necks."

A murmur of agreement muttered 'round the room.

"And if it's to Nordlake you be bound, watch out for the Vattenvidunder," cautioned another.

This brought derisive laughter from some and wide-eyed agreement from others.

Tip frowned. "What is this, um, Vatten-?"

"Vattenvidunder," said the innkeeper, refreshing Tip's mug of ale, then Bekki's. The 'keep cocked an eyebrow at several in the crowd, and added, "A water monster which some believe lives in Nordlake."

"He does! He does!" averred the one who had first spoken the name. "He comes up the Argon from the sea now and again and into Nordlake. Why? For what? Who knows?"

"Oh, Norge," pooh-poohed someone in the crowd, "and just how does he get past the shallows of the fords?"

"He comes and goes in flood times," huffed Norge.

Tip shook his head. "Beg pardon, Goodmaster Norge, but flood or no, a creature coming up the Argon from the sea would have to swim over Bellon Falls, and that's a thousand-foot-high cataract. I know, for I have seen it."

"Wull, then he swims around it."

Again Tip shook his head. "I'm sorry, but there are no rivers 'round."

This brought a laugh from several in the crowd, and someone called out, "See!"

Norge frowned and jutted out his jaw. "Wull, whether or no he comes from the sea, still there's a Vattenvidunder in Nordlake, for my da, ere he died, bless his spirit, saw it."

"Or so he said," called out someone, laughing as he did so.

Norge leapt to his feet, fists clenched, but Tip called out, "A song. I'll play a song." And he reached for his silver-stringed lute as a cheer greeted his words.

A glare in his eyes, Norge sat back down, and thus was a fight averted.

The next morning, stone dust yet drifted down from the grey sky above. The wagon drivers and guards decided to wait another day or so, but Bekki and Tip rode onward, for the moon did not tarry in its path, nor would golden mint pause in its growth, though what this falling grey might do to the gwynthyme, neither Tip nor Bekki could say.

"Rupt and water monsters and falling rock dust," said Tip as they left the bounds of Gronkulle. "I wonder what else lies in our path."

"Dust, yes; Squam, perhaps; but Vattenvidunder? I think not," said Bekki.

"Oh? And why not the Vatten-, uh, Vatten-"

"Vidunder," completed Bekki. "I think not because I have been to Nordlake, and no monster did I see."

"Oh. -Well I've never seen a Stone Giant, yet you tell me they are real."

"Ah, but, Tipperton, you have never spent most of your life under the living stone, as have I."

"And, Bekki, you have never spent most of your life along the shores of Nordlake."

"True," admitted Bekki.

"Well then?"

Beneath his face covering, Bekki frowned but held his tongue.

They rode awhile in silence, but then Tip said, "Have you seen a Stone Giant?"

Bekki shook his head, dust drifting off his cloak hood. "Nay."

"Oh," said Tip, disappointed. "I was just wondering what they did. I mean, I've heard some of the legends-how they can move through stone, how they have real gemstones for eyes-but I've never heard of their purpose. I mean, why are there Stone Giants?"

Bekki laughed. "Ah, my friend, let me ask you this: why are there Waerans?"

Now Tip laughed under his protective covering. "Unh, I see what you mean."

They rode a bit farther and came to a stream, the water silted grey. Under an oak, Bekki found a pool, and with swipes of his hands he cleared the surface. As they watched the ponies drink, Tip said, "Back in Dendor the Mages told me that a Wizard named Farrin is seeking the Stone Giants and if he finds them he will try to enlist them to aid the Allies in this war against Modru."

Bekki grunted, then said, "Against Gyphon you mean."

"Oh, right."

Bekki stepped to one side and relieved himself. Then he said, "Mage Farrin is not likely to succeed in his mission, for even though the Utruni aided First Durek, and even though they are said to ward the Kammerling, they remain aloof from the affairs of Mithgar."

"That's what Ridich said-I mean, about them being above the concerns of Mithgar, or, as he put it, in this case far below."

Now Tip stepped away to relieve himself. As he came back to the pool he said, "You said something about a Kammerling?"

Bekki nodded.

"Well then, Bekki. What's that all about? Look, tell me everything you know about the Utruni."

Bekki barked a laugh. "Ha! What I know of the Utruni would not fill a thimble."

"Even so, Bekki, surely it is more than I know."

Bekki sighed. "All right, my friend, this is what I've been told:

"Indeed they do have gemstones for eyes, and they dwell in the living stone; in that, you are correct. Yet there is this, too: it is said they can somehow move through solid rock itself, and they work along the faces of the deep stone, where rock slides past rock, and they ease the tension that builds up. By doing so it is said that great earthquakes are avoided, though just how, I cannot imagine. On the other hand, I am told the Utruni believe that deep within the rock, perhaps at the very heart of Mithgar itself, a great Stone Giant slumbers, and it is when he turns over in his sleep the land quakes. Just how that jibes with the easing of tension along the deep rock faces is anyone's guess.

"There is not much more I can tell you of the Stone Giants, other than it is said the Utruni ward the Rage Hammer, the Kammerling itself. It is believed Adon gave them this token of power to watch over until the time comes for its wielding. Just who is to wield it, I cannot say, but its purpose is well-known among my folk."

"What is it? I mean the Kammerling. And what is its purpose?"

"It is a great silveron war hammer, said to be forged of starsilver by Adon Himself. And it is intended to be used against the greatest Dragon of all."

"Oh, that's, um, Black Kalgalath, right?"

"Or mayhap Daagor," replied Bekki.

"Oh my. Even with the Kammerling, one would have to be mad to go up against either of them. I mean, who can oppose a Dragon? Fire and all. Power and all. Monsters that they are."

All ponies watered, again they set out for the distant ford.

"We saw one, you know," said Tipperton.

"One what?"

"Dragon. Skail of the Barrens, or so did Phais and Loric say. Huge. Devastating. Alone, it drove the entire Dwarven army of Drimmen-deeve back into their Dwarvenholt."

Bekki growled in suppressed rage.

"No sir, I don't want to ever have to face a Dragon," said Tip, and on through the sifting fall they rode.

For four days the stone dust fell from the sky, covering all in a thin layer of silt, the amount of fall diminishing with each day. And during these same days, the land grew chill, for the sun was wan above, and July summer was fled away though July itself yet lay on the land.

On the fifth day it began to rain, the drops yet clouded grey. For three more days it drizzled and stormed and misted and pelted, washing the world with water, the silt being carried by tumbling streams northerly toward the Argon.

And on the next day in a chill morning fog, leading their ponies, Tip and Bekki crept to the banks of that river, yet no warding Spawn did they find. But the river, the river itself, it was flooded, the water boiling past, a racing tumult under a thick and cold blanket of enshrouding grey vapor.

"Kruk!" snarled Bekki. "We can't cross in that."

"Any other fords nearby?" asked Tipperton.

Bekki shook his head. "The one at Alvstad is far to the west-sixteen or seventeen days-and it is no doubt flooded, too."

"What about the ferry at Kaagor? Isn't it closer than Alvstad? Someone said that Jordian warrior maiden told it had been rebuilt."

"Aye, Captain Brud said the ferry once more crosses the Argon. Too, he told me it is warded by two companies of Agron's best. And you are right: it is closer than the ford at Alvstad. Twelve or thirteen days from here. Indeed we could use it, have the Squam not burned it again… unlikely with Agron's soldiers on guard. But heed, even if we set out today, by the time we got there and back, surely we would have long past crossed through this ford, and it would have been a lengthy trip for nought, nigh another month altogether."

"A month? Oh my. Well then, there's nothing for it," said Tip, "we'll just have to wait."

Bekki sighed. "It may be many a day ere we can cross, Tipperton. Pray to Garlon He sends no more rain."

Even as Bekki said it, the sky began to drizzle, chill water falling through the clasping fog.