The Brega path

CHAPTER 4

Two Dwarves, a Warrow, and a Man threaded their way along the Great Loom of Aggarath as they walked toward the pile of.stone covering Dusk-Door. Everywhere they stepped, it seemed, they came to another fallen Dwarf warrior, slain by the monstrous Krakenward during the fearful retreat along the causeway. Durek and Bomar had cast their hoods over their heads, as is the manner of Dwarven grief; tears silently coursed down Cotton's cheeks as the Warrow passed the broken bodies; and Rand's countenance was bleak. But they did not stop to mourn, for as Durek had said, "There will come a time to lament, but now we must mink of the living. Our companions in the halls of Kraggen-cor depend upon us; we must not fail them,"

Where the lake once stood, a black crater now scarred the tend. Of the Dwarves drawn underwater by the malevolent creature, there was no sign. Along the sundered causeway the four strode, and over the ancient bridge. Far below in the muck-laden bed of the drained lake they could see the ancient stonework of the old Gatemoat at last revealed to the light of day after long, dark ages. With the Troll-dam destroyed, water once again flowed through an unseen fissure under the Loomwall and into the moat, filling it to spill over a formed lip in the massive bulwark, shaping the beginning of a stream. After centuries of silence, the Duskrill once more fell asplash to meander across the upper vale-now a black crater-to come to the linn of the Sentinel Falls and cascade down into the stream bed below to flow onward through the ravine of Ragad Vale.

Onward strode Cotton, Durek, Bomar, and Rand. Now they could see, here and there, the pave of the ancient courtyard before the Dusken Door, a courtyard no longer drowned, yet one burdened with mire and silt. There, too, they could see the ancient remnants of great trees that had once grown before the western portal…" The four finally came to the bank of rubble over the Door; Ijt was immense: the evil creature not only had put back ail the kone removed by the Dwarves; it had heaped even more rock /on the pile.

; Cotton looked at the great mound in dismay, for the bupcan did not see how even a Dwarf army could move this mass of stone in a week-much less in the scant hours remaining before the appointed rendezvous. Rand retrieved Brytta's spear, and picked up his own sword from where he had dropped it and had caught up Durek› axe during the Krakenward's attack. Grey Bomar stood and surveyed the ramped heap. "King Durek," rumbled the Masterdelver, "I know not whether we can move all this stone twixt now and mid of night tomorrow." Bomar glanced at the forenoon sky. "Already I judge it to be drawing upon midmorn, and whether there are enough hours for mis labor is questionable. Yet we must try. Berez and I will set the shifts and oversee the work: one of us will guide the delving by day, the other will'lead the toil at night, for we must work nonstop by lantern light throughout the eventide, too, if we are to succeed by tomorrow night."

Durek nodded, and the foursome turned and walked back along the causeway and around the north end, to come to, the broken dam and the Sentinel Falls.

Still the Dwarf companies were in turn casting stone blocks down on the now-lifeless carcass of the Monster. The mound had grown large in the basin below the precipice, and the Duskrill plunged over the linn to cataract down onto the jagged heap; and only here and there could the'mottled green hide of the hideous creature be discerned. Cotton looked on and shuddered in revulsion, for even though only slight glimpses of the Krakenward were visible, that which could be seen was repulsive to behold.

Durek summoned Berez and called his Captains together, and the Dwarves gathered in a great circle, along with Cotton the Warrow and two Men: Prince" Rand and Reachmarshal Brytta. As soon as the Council was seated, the Dwarf King spoke: "The broken stones over the Door are piled yet higher. The task of uncovering the portal by midnight tomorrow may prove impossible, but Bomar has a plan for working day and darktide, too. But ere he speaks, I would say this:

"First, there are many fallen kindred on the sundered causeway. We cannot stop to mourn the slain, although they deserve the honor. Even though we shall not mourn, let those who sorrow work with hooded heads, and use stone from over the Door to build cairns against the Great Loom for the dead to rest within. After we have defeated the Squam, we shall decide whether to let the cairns stand for all time, or instead to delve stone tombs or set funeral pyres for all those the Maduk slew.

"Second, there are those among the Host wounded by the Monster of the Dark Mere. The injured will not issue into the caverns to fight the Grg, but will stay behind. Those among them who can, will help the healers with the more severely afflicted and prepare them for a short waggon trip south; all wounded will go with the Vanadurin when they drive the horses to better pasturage.

"Third, as Bomar will explain, we will toil in shifts. But only those removing the rubble will be working; all others must rest until it is their turn at the labor. The one exception to this rule of rest will be you, the Captains: Friend Cotton will meet with you on the morrow to describe the major features of the Brega Path, so that we will be better prepared for the War. The Chief Captains will gather here midmorning tomorrow, and all other Captains as their work shift permits that same afternoon.

"Finally, I have faith that the Host shall succeed in mis task of removing the stone, for they are staunch and have the will to overcome even this. And remember, at this very moment seven of our comrades and kindred are within, and they depend upon us. We must not fail!" Durek then gave the Council over to Bomar, who began outlining the shifts and the way of working.

Cotton tried to pay heed, but his mind simply could not concentrate upon Bomar's words. Had the Dwarf been speaking of growing a garden, or of shaping wood, or of treating an animal or a bird, then the buccan's attention would have been riveted to every syllable Bomar uttered. But the Masterdelver was speaking of stone and levers, of slings and prybars, of work shifts and duties; and even though these words were vital to the mission and vital to the rescue of Mister Perry and the others, Cotton's thoughts purely would not stay focused upon Bomar's work plan.

Instead, the Warrow again fretted about Mister Perry, wondering where the Squad was, and whether they had met with mischief: how had they fared? And his thoughts scurried along these endless paths to nowhere, for how long he did not know.

But suddenly, he became aware that he was listening intently, not to Bomar, but to the valley, for it seemed as if, above the shush of Sentinel Falls, he had heard a fainf cry; yet it was so dim, so far away-just on the edge of perception- that he wasn't at all certain whether he had actually heard.it, or had merely imagined it.

The Warrow swept his emeraldtne eyes around the circle; no Dwarf there appeared to have noted anything other than Bomar's words; yet both Rand and Brytta seemed to be listening intently for a distant call-especially Brytta, who had risen to his knees and turned his face toward the west.

There! It came again! To Cotton the call had the sound of a far-off horncry. Brytta cocked his head and held Up his broken hand. "Quiet!" he barked. A hush fell upon the Council, and only the cascade of the falling water failed to heed Brytta's sharp command,

Once more! Again! It was a homcall! Now all heard it, and it grew stronger:

A-raw, a-rahn! A-raw, a-rahn! A-raw, a-rahn! Over and again it belled, growing louder, and Marshal Brytta leapt to his feet. "A foe! Alert!" he cried, his good left hand gripping his spear as he sprang to the rock in circle center, his sharp gaze piercing the length of the valley to the'west.

"A horseman comes!" cried down a Dwarf lookout from atop the Sentinel Stand.

A-raw, a-rahn! came the call again; and at last bursting into sight along the valley floor came a rider flying at full gallop; clots of flood-dampened earth were flung.behind from plunging hooves as the horse thundered down the vale and toward the Host along the Old Rell Spur. "It's Arl!" cried Brytta. "From Redguard Mountain! From Quadran Gap!"

Couching, his spear, Brytta blew a signal upon his own black-oxen horn-Hahn! Hahn! (Here! Here!)-and he sprang toward the stairs beside the linn and plunged down them to meet the flying scout.

No sooner, it seemed, had Brytta reached the bottom of the steps than Arl pounded up, hauling his lathered mount short as he leapt to the ground. Quickly the two Men spoke in Valur-the warrior tongue of VaJon-with Arl gesticulating fiercely, his hands and spear describing numbers, directions, and actions. In but a moment Marshal Brytta brought him up,to the Council circle as all eyes followed them, and Cotton discovered his heart was racing. Brytta spoke: "It's Wrg! Some know we are here! They go to warn Gnar!"

Angry shouts burst forth from many in the circle, while others spat oaths and gripped their axes. Durek held up his.hand, and when silence returned he motioned for Brytta to continue. "It seems as though the secret High Gate is known to the Spawn after all, and we are revealed. But here, let Arl tell it."

The tall young rider of Valon stood before them. As with all the Harlingar, he was clothed in leathern breeks and soft brown boots, while a fleece vest covered his mail-clad torso. Art's steel helm sported a flowing black horse-tail crest, and his flaxen locks feli to his shoulder. He bore a spear in his left hand, while a long-knife was at his belt, and a bow and arrows could be seen at his horse's saddle, as well as a scabbarded saber. At his side depended a black-oxen horn, taken from the wild kine of the south-the mark of a Son of Harl.

It could be seen that the youth was weary; yet his manner belied the fatigue, for he stood warrior straight. With a quick sweep of his eyes, Arl's intense gaze took in the Council circle, and in a firm voice he spoke, his scout's report stripped starkly bare of all but the essential facts: "For those here who know it not, three nights past, Eddra, Wylf, and I were left atop Redguard Mountain to watch for a Wrg army should they come to attack from Quadran Col.

"Last night a torch-lit Rutchen band of thirty or so scuttled down from the Gap and turned south toward this valley.

"Leaving Wylf behind to watch for a larger force, Eddra and I rode from Redguard and trailed the Spawn at a distance.

Our plan was to divert them were they nigh to discovering the Host; or, should we fail to deflect them, our plan was to warn the Legion if the Wrg espied you here in this place.

"We followed them south for some leagues, when — the band we trailed met up with a like number coming north from the direction of this vale.

"They joined forces and turned back for Quadran Gap. Yet heed! As they loped past where we were hidden, we overheard them cursing: '… we tell Gnar of the lake-draining army of foul-beards at the buried door!'

"Krukf" burst out Durek, siamming fist into palm, his face dark with rage. "They know who we are, where we are, our exact numbers, and our very goal!"

Again angry shouts swept forth from the Council.circle, and many pounded the flats of their axes to the ground while venting oaths. Durek struggled to master his own passion, and held up his hands for silence; and Dwarves swallowed their rage and clenched their jaws. And when quiet returned the Dwarf King motioned for Arl to continue.

"Eddra is tracking them yet, or did so til dawn," the young rider spoke on, "leaving sign along the Grg path, marking their dash for the hidden High Gate. I came as quickly as I could to warn of the danger." '.,

Ar! turned to Brytta. "Sire," he spoke urgently now to his commander, "there are perhaps seventy of them, and they are swift. Yet I think they have not now reached the pass, for dawn was nigh and first light of day wil! find them holed up until sunset, when once again they will take up the race for the Black Hole. They must be intercepted ere they can carry word to Gnar, else we are foredone; and the riders of the Valanreach are the only ones fleet enough to overhaul their track." The youth, pale and harried from his all-night venture, looked into the drawn, tired faces of Brytta and the Council, weary, too, from their night-long struggle with the Krakenward.

Durek, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, rasped, "Marshal Brytta, Warrior Arl is right. Only the Vanadurin can thwart this threat." As the Dwarf King looked.up at the Reach commander', others in the Council grunted and nodded their agreement, for it was clear that only the horse-borne Harlingar — would be swift enough to overtake the fleeing Squam. No one there knew just how far the two bands of maggot-folk had gotten before dawn broke, the oncoming dayrise forcing the Spawn to take cover in the splits and cracks of the western side of the range to await the onset of night and the final dash for the High Gate. Indeed, perhaps some had already reached that goal and even now were on their way to Gnar with news of the Dwarves at Dusk-Door.

Brytta's voice was grim: "Arl, get a fresh mount; you will lead us back to'Eddra. If they have not yet done so, these Wrg must not escape to alert Gnar. Go now; and bring Nightwind to me." And as Arl sprang down the steps, the Reachmarshal glanced at the morning sky. "Prince Rand, by the straightest horse route, how far lies the road to Quadran Gap?"

"Nine leagues, perhaps ten, through the foothills by horseback will set you upon the way to the pass," answered Rand after some thought. Both Brytta and Durek grunted in agreement, for the estimate confirmed their own. Rand continued: "The route through the margins wil! be rock-strewn and slow, rugged, broken, though I can see no swifter way to cut off the Yrm." Rand then turned to the Dwarf King. "Even so, King Durek, when the Vanadurin reach the road, how far upwards should they ride? Where lies the secret High Gate?"

Durek shook his head. "Lore only tells us that it is some-where within the pass. Yet it cannot be more than a league or three upslope, for we now know that it is this side of the high snow, the deep snow, else the Grg could not have used it. How they found it and discovered the way of its working, we may never learn, though they have had more than a thousand years to know of it."

"Oh, no sir," spoke up Cotton. "Beggin' your pardon, King Durek, but I think they've not known about it all that time. Why, if they knew of that High Gate just as recent as Tuck's time-two hundred thirty or so years past-well then, Sir, you can stake your last copper on the fact that they'd've used the High Gate to get at him and the other three when those four tried to cross over Stormhelm during the Winter War." Cotton looked around and saw nods of agreement. "So, as I'd say, since they didn't grab at Tuck in the pass, well, they must have got that secret door open since then."

Brytta glanced down into the vale and saw Arl riding a fresh mount and leading Nightwind to the Sentinel Falls.. "Regardless as to when it was discovered by the Wrg, they know of it now. No more time can be spent in speculation.ft is time for deeds, not talk." And Brytta raised his black-oxen, horn to his lips to signal the Harlingar.

"Wait, Sir!" cried Cotton. "What about the wounded? What about those hurt in the fight with the Monster? Who will take them south? And, for that matter, what about the horses? We can't just leave them here in this dead place; how will they live?"

"Cotton, my gentle friend, unforeseen events are running roughshod o'er us, trampling our careful stratagems,"'declared Brytta. "Hence, for those things you name-and-perhaps more-other plans must needs be made; for, wounded or not, horses or not, still the Spawn must be stopped ere they reach the High Gate; and none else can do that but the Vanadurin. We must ride now!"

Astride a fresh mount and leading the ReachmarshaFs steed, Arl had come to the foot of the linn; and Nightwind reared and his forelegs pawed the air, sharp hooves flashing. Brytta glanced down, and then spoke to all in Council: "Fare you well, Lords. May each of you succeed in your mission, and we in ours." v

And Brytta again raised the black-oxen hom to his lips, and this time an imperative call split the air. Nightwind belled a challenge, and other notes rang forth as Brytta's c.all was answered in kind by each of the Harlingar; and horn after horn resounded, which set the echoes to ringing, and the Ragad Vale pealed with the fierce calls of the untamed horns of Valon.

'Mid the Vanadurin homcries to battle, Brytta sprang down the steps and vaulted to Nightwind's back. And'with yet another blast upon his horn, the Reachmarshal spurred his dark steed to the west toward the mouth of the valley, and at his side rode Arl on a grey. High upon Arl's upright spear flew the War-banner of the House of Valon: a white horse rampant upon a field of green, an ancient sigil ever borne into battle by the Harlingar.t And as Brytta and Arl went swiftly past each of the other riders, they, too, spurred in behind. Soon all the Vanadurin were in the column, riding at a fast pace, in pairs, a forest of spears bristling at the morning sky: thirty-seven grim warriors upon whom the hopes of the Dwarf Army rested.

And as the Valanreach column rode forth. Cotton turned to Prince Rand. "Sir, what about Marshal Brytta's broken hand?" asked the Warrow, fretting. "How can he fight? How can he defend himself?"

Rand did not take his eyes from the distant riders, and his answer was a long time coming: "Fear not, Cotton, for he shall manage," said the Prince finally; yet Cotton was not comforted by the words. i

Slowly the day crept forward, and Cotton's weary mind continued to churn with worry: over Perry and the Squad; over Brytta and the Vanadurin; over the vast amount of rubble covering the Door; and over the mission in general. Realizing at last the state he was in, he decided to try to break this darkling mood with a trip to see Brownie and Downy, and to visit with the cook-crew of the last waggon.

Tiredjy the buccan trudged along the Old Spur back to where the rear of the train was encamped upon the vale sides. All along the way there was torn landscape where the loosed water had whelmed the ravine. Most of the black rot from fee lake bottom had been washed away by the Duskrill flowing once more along the ravine, yet some of the decay still clung here and there to the rocks and crevices of the valley floor. And where the rot was, an unclean odor emanated; but there was a cool breeze blowing along the vale and toward the mountain and up, and the reek of centuries of accumulated foulness, though prevalent, did not overpower those at the wains.

After visiting the horses, Cotton ale a meal with Bomar's cook-crew. They seemed pleased to see the small, gold-clad Warrow; yet at the same tirqe, something about the buccan's presence unsettled them. Uneasily, they sat in a circle; and what conversation there was turned again and again toward Brytta's mission, and toward the upcoming invasion of Kraggen-cor. And in the fashion of Dwarves, the talk went from Dwarf to Dwarf around the circle:

"Just how did the foul Squam discover the High Gate into Quadran Pass?" growled Nare.

"If a thieving Grg found.it, then it has to be easily done-no doubt from the inside," answered Caddor. "It is,' after ail, a secret door, Chakmade. Yet, in this, i think it,tt concealed only on the outside."

"Let us hope the Vanadurin can intercept them before they regain the High Gate," said Belor, to a general murmur of agreement.

"Why were the Fou! Folk on this side of the Mountains anyway?" snapped Naral. "There are no homesteads nearby, nor villages, no one to ravage or plunder."

"For aught we know, they were trailing us," responded Oris. "We marched by the pass. In open view."

Crau leaned forward, poking the fire. "Aye, Oris, mayhap. Yet there were two bands."

"One band trailing us and another band trailing them? Spies watching spies?" queried Funda, scratching his head.

"Who knows?" growled Littor, exasperated- "Ravers, scouts, trackers, spies: the only thing that matters is they have seen us and must be stopped!"

"Wull," chimed in Cotton, "if anyone can stop 'em, it's Marshal Brytta and his horse riders!"

Shifting edgily at Cotton's words about horse riders, most of the Dwarves glanced at the silver hom the Warrow. bore and men quickly away, and a strained silence fell upon the group. Finally, after a time, with visible effort, Nare again took up the conversation, and soon all were engaged:

"It is an ancient dream, the retaking of Kraggen^or," observed Nare. "We of Durek's Folk have dreamed this dream for many a long age."

"Aye," responded Caddor. "An ancient dream of an elder race. It is a dream yearned for by many: bethink! we here do not fight just for ourselves; we also fight for our kith who remained behind in Mineholt-and in the Qiiartzen Caves, too."

"Not to mention those down in the Red Hills," added Belor, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"For that matter," spoke up Naral, "some of Durek's Folk dwell in the far western Sky Mountains and in the rewon halls of the Rigga Mountains to the north."

"But it is not only Durek's Folk we fight for," said Oris thoughtfully, "or just the Chakka. The foul Squam raid the

Lands of VaJon and Riamon, where they maim and slaughter the innocent and plunder that which others' labors won."

"I have heard the Elves of Blackwood and the Baeron think on action against the raiders," declared Crau as he threw a log on the cook fire.

"I know the Men of Pellar stand ready to aid us if we call," added Funda.

"It means that our Captain has the right of it," stated Littor. "We must strike and strike hard in the coming conflict. Dwarves, Men, EJves: all will gain from our victory."

"Hey!" exclaimed Cotton, "What about us Warrows? 1, mean, we'll benefit too. You left us out, Littor."

"Ho, my Friend Cotton," laughed Littor, standing up and bowing low to the buccan, "Waerans, too. I did not intend to exclude you, though it is not likely that Grg would bother the Boskydells-or the Waerans of Weiunwood near Stonehili, for that matter."

"Wull, that's where you might be wrong, Littor," asserted Cotton. "I mean, we fought the Spawn in the Bosky during the Winter War… and over in Weiunwood the maggot-folk tried more than once to invade-but the Ruckslayer drove 'em out, he did."

"Ruckslayer?" asked Caddor.

"That's what he was called," answered Cotton. "His real name was Arbagon Fenner. He led the Warrow force in the Battle of Weiunwood and drove the Rucks and such out; that was back in the time of the Winter War too. The Ruckslayer must have been quite a buccan: why, they say he once even rode a horse into battle-and 1 don't mean a pony, I mean a real horse."

At this second mention of horse riding, all the Dwarves again uneasily glanced at and then hastily looked away from the silent hom that Cotton now carried in plain view-a horn no longer stowed out of sight in the Warrow's pack. An irredeemable pall fell upon the conversation, and Cotton soon started back toward the head of the column.

The Dwarves at Dusk-Door toiled without pause, and slowly the great rock pile diminished. The stone itself was used to build cairns for the fallen against the Great Loom. All Dwarves worked hooded out of respect for their dead kindred, but they took not the time for formal mourning, though grief-stricken they were. Several cairns also were made near the broken dam for those killed by the Krakenward during the drilling. Gaynor's remains were recovered and put to rest, as well as were the slain Drillers and Hammerers and the members, of the fireteam broken by the clutch and slap of great tentacles. The Monster itself had been crushed by stone, and now it, too, was completely covered by rock, all Dwarf companies and Brytta's scouts having tumbled blocks down upon it.

Late in the afternoon, Farlon, a Valonian scout, rode in from the south. Not finding Brytta, he located Prince Rand to report that good pasturage with hearty grass and sparkling water lay in a wide vale but eleven miles downchain. After giving his report to the Prince, Farlon swept his eyes about the flood-whelmed valley and noted, "Much seems to have happened here since yesternoon, when last I saw this vale-as if a great stroke has hammered this land. The stream that was dry now flows again. The falls that were not, now tumble free. The dam that was whole is now shattered. A foulness lingers on the air. And gone are my comrades, and Marshal Brytta. Where are they? Where are the Vanadurin? And what has befallen this vale?"

Rand now realized mat Farlon had ridden south at noon the day before to look for fair pastures for the horses. Hence, the scout knew nought of the events concerning the battle with the Monster, nor of the discovery of the Host by the spying bands of maggot-folk. And so the Prince told the horseman of the struggle with the Warder of the Dark Mere, while Farlon stared with eyes wide with wonder at the broken dam and the black crater, at the Duskrill and the Sentinel Falls, at the Great Loom of Aggarath and the pile of rubble over the Door, at the toiling Dwarves, and at the cascade-shrouded mound of stone covering the creature's carcass.

Then Rand spoke of the prying Spaunen and explained Brytta's mission, and Farlon railed at the Fates for separating him from his brethren on this thrust to intercept the Ruck spies. Even then Farlon would have ridden to join the Vanadurin, and he strode resolutely to his horse. But ere he could mount, "Hold!" commanded Rand. "Your fellow horsemen are by now too far toward the pass for you to overtake ere nightfall, when the Yrm begin to stir. And a lone rider running at speed in the dark or by moonlight perchance would spoil any ambush set for the Foul Folk."

Farlon began to protest, but his words were cut short by Rand: "Horse rider, think! Would you gamble our quest 'gainst your desire to join your comrades in battle?" At Farlon's sullen silence. Rand spoke on: "In sooth, horseman, we have more need of you here than there, for someone must lead the wounded south to the haven you have found.''

"Gam/" growled Farlon, "I'm a warrior, not a nurse-maiden."

Cotton, who had been listening to the exchange, flushed with anger. "Warrior? Nursemaiden?" he cried, stepping in front of the scout. "Those words have no meaning in this! Ally! Helper! Friend! That's what's needed now! Come with me, warrior, and look!" And the small enraged Warrow grasped the Man by the wrist and stormed off toward the white waggons standing nearby, hauling die astonished rider in tow.

Long minutes fled, til nearly an hour had passed. Yet finally the two returned to Rand's side. And Farlon was most subdued, for he had seen and spoken with many Dwarves lamed and broken by the- evil Monster's might in the long battle with that hideous creature. "Sire," said the rider to Rand, "I am much shamed by my unthinking words. I do humbly place my service at your command, to succor the needs of the Dwarvenfotc wounded in that dire struggle."

And Farlon turned to Cotton. "Little friend, you spoke truth: neither warrior nor nursemaiden are words to be bandied here; rather ally, helper, or friend best describes the need." And Cotton shuffled his feet and peered at the ground, all too embarrassed by his own temperamental outburst.

Rand clapped the horseman on the shoulder, and the awkward moment was dispelled. "Good! Now we must think upon how best to move the injured south; in this we must seek the advice of a healer. As to when to move them: if the Door opens at the mid of night on the twenty-fifth, and if the Host enters Kraggen-cor, then you must move them no later than the morn of the twenty-sixth, perhaps e'en sooner, to get them out of harm's way should Spawn flee the battle and come forth through this vale."

"Aye," answered Farlon, "there is mat to think on. And there are the horses, too. My original mission was to find them good pasturage, which I have done. Yet how will I get them south? Drovers are needed, but all my brethren are gone, and the wounded cannot move the herd. Yet the steeds cannot be left here."

"You can do nought but loose them and hope that most will follow behind your waggons bearing the hurt Dwarves," stated Rand. "They are horses of Riamon, more tame than the fiery steeds of your Land, more likely to follow. Even so, if they do not come with you, I think they will stay together in a great herd and wander to other pastures upon the western wold, to be found again once the issue of Drimmen-deeve is over and done with."

"Mayhap we should leave some of the horses behind, here near the Door; perchance there will be a need," suggested Farlon. "Come, let us see how that might be done. And, too, let us find a healer and speak upon the move south."

And the scout and the Prince strode away, leaving Cotton behind. And the Warrow watched across the black crater as the work at Dusk-Door went on. The Sun set and darkness fell, yet the toil at the distant Loom continued by lamplight. Shifts changed and fresh workers replaced weary ones. Dwarves not working slept, as Cotton finally did, succumbing at last to his fatigue.

The next morning. Cotton awakened to find that more than half the stone had been removed from the Door, and he was overjoyed until he tallied up the hours to find that more than half the work time also was gone. He breakfasted with Rand, who said, "It is going to be close. Whether we reach the portal-by mid of night depends upon whether any more great stones are found like the one last eventide mat took more than an hour to move." No sooner had he said that than word came that another massive block barred the way.

After breakfast, Cotton went to the remnants of the dam above the falls and sat and once again watched the work. Time passed, yet by midmorn the pile did not seem to have diminished. The Warrow let his sight stray up along the reaches of the massif and down into the black crater. And then his jewel-like eyes swept to the Sentinel Stand. He could see someone-Farlon it was-carrying a bundle of wood up

the steps to the top of the spire. Now why would the rider be carrying a fagot up there? But ere Cotton could puzzle it through, Durek brought his Chief Captains to the buccan, and Cotton began to describe the main features that the Army would see along the Brega Path, starting at the Dusk-Door.

Using copies of Perry's map, Cotton began by telling of the stairs leading up behind the western doors, and he went on to speak of the halls and chambers and passageways they would encounter within Kraggen-cor. The Captains were especially interested in places where there would be bottlenecks, or where maggot-folk could lie in ambush. Cotton had to draw upon all of his knowledge of the Brega Scroll te answer their enquiries, particularly those of Fetor the Driller, who asked many penetrating questions, dwelling almost exclusively upon the first several miles of the Brega Path. Cotton was later to discover that Felor's companies were to be in the forefront of the invasion-the spearhead of the Dwarf Army.

Though he couldn't answer all their queries, Cotton had done well, and the Chief Captains thanked him for the review, and at noon they withdrew. But shortly thereafter, Cotton went over the same information with another group of Captains. Three more times, meetings were held at which the Warrow spoke of the Brega Path in terms of bottlenecks, ambuscades, deployments, and other tactical features. It was sundown when he finished, and at last all the Captains had heard his words.

During the time Cotton was speaking, the work at Dusk-Door continued. At times it went swiftly, at other times slowly, yet progress was being made. More than three quarters of the stone was now out of the way, yet only seven hours remained until midnight. Lanterns were again unshielded, and the toil went on.

Cotton ate his evening meal, then sat once more atop the broken dam and watched the labor at the far wall. The stars began to shine in the vault above, and still the effort went forth. Time passed, and Rand joined the Warrow. "In just three hours night will be at its deepest," remarked the Man, peering at the starfield.

They continued to watch the work in silence, each immersed in his own thoughts. Farlon came and joined them, but said nothing as he, too, regarded the sky and judged the depth of the night. Shortly, however, there came a cheer from the Great Loom, and Cotton sprang to his feet. "They're done!" he shouted. "They must be! See, the light shows only a few rocks remain, and they are being rolled into the black crater even now."

The three watched, and soon the lanterns began bobbing northward as the workers returned to the encampment. Word finally came: the task was indeed finished-the massive job done with. Durek, smiling, came carrying a lantern to the top of the falls. "Well, Friend Cotton," he rumbled, "we have succeeded, and with yet two hours to spare."

Durek summoned a herald to him and spoke a word or two. The herald stepped to the edge of the falls precipice and raised a golden horn to his lips, and blew a blast that echoed throughout the vale, causing all who heard it to leap to their feet with hands flying to axe hafts. And even though Cotton was standing next to King Durek, still the Warrow found himself reaching for the hilt of the Atalar Blade, so compelling was the night to arms of the War Horn.

At this sound, Farlon raised his own black-oxen horn to his lips, and an imperative call split the air. Again Cotton fc]t his heart thud and his blood surge, and his gaze leapt in wonder from Durek's golden War Horn to Farlon's black-oxen horn. And he glanced to the silver Horn of the Reach hanging by the green and white baldric over his own shoulder, recalling its heartlifting voice. The peals of these three clarions seemed, somehow, irresistibly compelling, though their calls were different: the golden horn was resonant and commanding; the black, flat and challenging; the silver, sharp and calling.

Cotton, too, felt the urge to sound the trumpet he carried- the silver Horn of the Reach-and his hand grasped the bugle; yet he did not set the wind to it, for he knew the dread this token held for the Dwarves; and so he let it fall back to his side unvoiced.

Yet other sounds peaied forth as Durek's and Farlon's calls were answered by the shouts of Dwarf warriors and by the clack of axe upon buckler, a sonance which soon became a great rhythmic pounding of steel upon bronze.

And Cotton's heart pounded too, and his blood surged and his spirit flamed as the Ragad Vale rang with the great

hammering and with the roar of the fierce War calls of the Chakka. And above this din pealed the wild cry of a hom of Valon, but above all belled the great golden command of Durek's mighty War Horn.

And the Dwarves of'the Army came to the golden call, for it was the summons of their King. Their blood was up and their hearts aflame, and as they came "they shouted and flourished their weapons to the sky, and their Dwarvish passions blazeu. And when the clamoring Host had gathered on the sides of the vale near the Sentinel Falls, a great proud cry burst forth from the Legion entire as above them Durek stepped to the edge of the linn and stood.

The light of he lanterns filled the valley before the Dwarf King, and he was wreathed in the blue-green phosphorescence. The Moon was full and shone down on him, and the circlet of stars on his black mail-shirt glittered silver in the moonlight. And at his side the water tumbling o'er the linn shimmered brightly. His black and silver locks fell from his helm, and his forked beard shone with luster. He grasped his silveron-edged axe in his right hand, and the blade sparkled. And he looked somehow greater than his stature, for he was King.

Durek raised his arms, and when quiet fell, he spoke; and though he did not seem to raise his gravelly voice, still all the Host heard him: "We stand ready to issue into our rightful homeland and drive the foul usurpers out. This ancient foe we have met in battle many times, and never yet have we suffered defeat at their hands. But heed me: My meaning is not that the Grg is a soft, easy opponent. To the contrary, the Squam are evil and cunning, and in every battle the struggle has been mighty and the outcome uncertain. Yet we defeated the Foul Folk in the Wars of Vengeance; we defeated them again in the Battle of the Vorvor; and we again defeated Squam in the Great War, as well as in the Winter War. And now, once more we go to fight the Grg, and this time the victory may be yet harder to grasp, for this time they shall be in their strength, for the battle will take place underground, where the Sun threatens them not. But we, too, shall be strengthened, for we shall be in our rightful homeland. And when this War is done with, Kraggen-cor shall again be ours!"

There was a great roar of voices, and a pounding of axe haft upon stone, and the black and golden horns blew wildly.

After a time, Durek once more held up his arms for quiet, and slowly the swell of voices and horncalls and clatter of axes subsided, til only the susurration of the tumbling glitter of the Sentinel Fails remained. And above the shush Durek spoke: "We have conquered much that has stood in our way to come to this moment: we outfought the blizzard in the Crestan Pass; we overcame the deep snow on the Mountainside; we quick-marched long to defeat time and distance; we slew the vile Monster of me Dark Mere; and we moved a great mass of stone to uncover the Dusken Door. There is but one thing more that stands in our way, and that is the Grg Swarm. But as we have done before, so shall we do again: we shall meet them in battle and crush them! Victory shall be ours!"

Again there was a mighty shouting and a wild pealing of the black and golden horns, and the strike of axe haft on stone became a great rhythmic beat, and four thousand voices chanted, Khana-Durek! Khana-Durek! Khana-Durek! fBreak-death-Durek!] over and over and over.

At last Durek held up his hands for quiet, but it was a long time coming. "I go now to the Dusken Door to speak the words of power at mat portal. If the Squad of Kraggen-cor has won through the caverns to the goal, then at the.mid of this night we shall set foot into our ancient homeland, Yet hearken: it may not be the Squad we meet at the Door but, rather, the Squam army, for we know not the success or failure of Marshal Brytta's mission, and the Grg spies may have slipped past the Vanadurin and borne to Gnar word of our Army here at the Dusken Door. Regardless, if it is the Grg Swarm we meet, then we will begin the War just that much sooner and regain our ancient homeland all the quicker. Heed: We all know our battle assignments. Form into your Companies, for the hour is nearly arrived. And may Elwydd smile upon each of us, and Adon strengthen our arms."

Then Durek flashed his axe up to the moonlit sky and cried the ancient battle challenge of the Dwarves: "Chdkka shok! Chdkka cor! [Dwarven axes! Dwarven might!"]

And thrice a mighty shout went up from all the Host: Chdkka shok! Chdkka cor! and Cotton felt his heart leap and his blood surge. The Warrow stabbed his sword to the sky

and he, too, shouted with all the Legion the battle cry of the Dwarves. And he turned to see that Rand, also, had his Riamon blade upraised in solemn pledge; and Farlon stood with the butt of his spear grounded to the earth of the Valley Ragad as a steadfast vow that he would lead the wounded to the south, out of harm's way.

Then Durek spun on his heel and started for the Door with Cotton and Rand at his side; and the Dwarf Legion surged along the Old Rell Spur and up the cliff to follow after, while Farlon of the Valanreach stood firm.

As the warriors strode around the crater and by the cairns along the Great Loom, desperate thoughts whirled through Cotton's mind; Oh, please let Mister Perry be at the Door. He's just got to he there. It won't be right if he ain't. But then he thought, Whoa now, Cotton Buckleburr, why are you thinkin' he might not be there? You know he'll make it. Nothing can stop 'him. not even a black mine full of maggot-folk. It'll sure be good to see him again-if he's there. If he ain't there, well, then, I'll just lead the Dwarves down the Brega Path til we find him and the others, even if Marshal Brytta didn't stop those spies and we have to go through a whole Spawn Horde. But I won't have to do that, 'cause Mister Perry'11 be there and the maggot-folk won't be… I hope. Then he'll lead and I'll follow. But if I do have to lead then it's: two hundred steps up the broad stair; one and twenty and seven hundred level paces in the main passage 'round right, left, right, and right turns passing three arches… And as Cotton strode with the odiers toward the Door, through his mind marched the beginning steps of the Brega Path.

At last they halted at the place of die Dusk-Door. Blank stone loomed where the portal should appear. It was not quite midnight, and so they stood and waited. Behind them the Host moved into position: Felor's companies were first, standing ready with axes, and some sported small bucklers on their left arms. Cotton could see rank after rank of Dwarves stretching back around the black crater toward the Sentinel Falls. Lanterns glowed softly, carried by the warriors. Cotton's eyes followed the lights all the way to the last group of lanterns: Bomar's company: die rear guard.

Atop the Sentinel Stand stood Farlon and a head-bandaged Dwarven observer, peering at the stars overhead and at the bright Moon riding high. At last the two looked to one another and nodded; and the Dwarf took up his lantern and threw the shutter wide, and a beam sprang toward the Door, toward those under the great hemidome who could not see the whole of the spangled heavens wheeling through the ebon sky. And as the lantern flashed its signal. Rand drew his sword, and Durek gripped his axe. Hastily, Cotton, too, drew his blade. It was midnight, the appointed hour-time to attempt the opening. They did not know whether the doors would swing wide; and if the portal opened, would the. Host be met by friend or foe?

King Durek stepped to the towering Loom and set his axe down, leaning it against the massif, and placed his hands upon the surface of the blank stone, muttering strange words under his breath. And springing forth from where his hands pressed, there spread outward upon the stone a silvery weft that shone brightly in the lantern glow and by the moonlight and starlight. And as the tracery grew, it took form. And suddenly there was the Door! At last they could see its outline shining on the smooth stone, and they could see within the glittering web three runes set thereupon, wrought of theen, the Wizard metal: a glowing circle in the center of the Door; and under the circle and off to the right, the Wizard Grevan's rune G, and to the left, Gatemaster Valki's glyph V.

Durek caught up his weapon by the helve and steppeiiback from the high portal; all that remained was for him to say the Wizard-word for "move," and the Door, if able, would open. The Dwarf turned to Cotton, Rand, and Felor. "Stand ready," he warned, "for we know not whom we meet,"

Cotton gripped his sword and felt the great pressure of the moment rising inside him. The tension was nearly.unbearable, and he felt as if he needed to shout, but instead he thought. Let Mister Perry be at the Door and not no Ruck.

Durek turned back to the Door and gripped his axe; he placed his free hand within the glittering rune circle; then hjs voice rang out strongly as he spoke the Wizard word of opening: "Gaard!"