Dragons of The Dwarven Depths Part 24

"Yes," she managed faintly.

"Good." Riverwind was brisk, matter-of-fact. "We have to get them started now. No time to waste. The draconians will attack the caves, but it won't take them long to figure out we're gone. Then they'll come looking for us."

"Will we be safe in the pa.s.s?" Laurana asked.

"I hope so," Riverwind replied, trying to rea.s.sure himself as much as her. "We did not know the pa.s.s was there, and we have lived here for months. With luck and help from the G.o.ds, the draconians will not find us. If they do, we can defend ourselves against attack."

He stopped talking, sucked in a breath. He saw in dazzling brilliance, as though lightning had streaked across his mind, the pick-axe lying beneath the striped rock that did not belong there.

"Make haste!" he told Laurana. "Keep them moving. Don't let anyone stop." He turned away, then turned back. "If anyone balks, he must remain behind. We don't have time to mollycoddle people. Keep everyone moving!"

He made his own way back across the treacherous trail, thinking, as he did so, that it was actually easier to cross in the darkness. He couldn't see how far he had to fall or the sharp rocks waiting to break his body. The men who had done this same task today took up their places again, standing at intervals, ready to a.s.sist those who were already beginning to cross. Elistan remained at the start, saying rea.s.suring words and giving Paladine's blessing to all. Gags bound around their mouths, the people began to edge their way along the path.

Riverwind paused to glance back in the direction of the camp. Some of the draconians were now running toward the caves. Once they reached the living area, they would be thrown into confusion when they found their victims were gone. They would think the people had retreated deeper into the caves, and they would search the tunnels and pa.s.sages. Eventually, the draconians would realize the truth. The caves had been abandoned. Verminaard knew the refugees could not go north. The most logical route lay to the south. That's where he would look first.

Riverwind glanced to the east, wondering how many hours they had until daylight.

He did not think he had many...

"Come with me," he said to his warriors. "You won't need your weapons. You need pick-axes! And bring me some of the men who worked in the mines!"

The first wave of draconians broke on the cliffs where the refugees had once dwelt. Howls meant to strike fear into the hearts of their victims changed to curses as they entered cave after cave and found crude furniture, toys, and clothes, and stores of food and water the refugees had been forced to leave behind.

Riverwind took the miners to where Flint had left the pick-axe. He showed them the axe and the striped rock, explaining to them what he thought the dwarf was trying to tell them.

The miners examined the area as best they could by moonlight and starlight, agreeing that this rock was a keystone. But whether it would work or not, they could not say.

The crossing proceeded, though with agonizing slowness. Riverwind kept watch on the sky. There was as yet no light visible, but the stars were starting to fade.

The last few people were creeping across. One, a young woman, staggered and fell to the ground. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she was shaking, but she had not made a sound. Goldmoon took hold of her and led her away.

Laurana came next to last. Gilthanas, one of those doing duty on the cliff face, spoke to her in elven as he helped her across. She clasped his hand and kissed him.

Elistan came across last. He carried a child on his back, the little boy's hands clasped around his neck. The cleric's steps were firm. He did not falter. The little boy's mother, waiting on the other side, hid her face in her hands, unable to watch.

"That was fun, Elistan," said the little boy, pulling the gag off his mouth when they reached safety. "Can we do it again?"

People laughed, though their laughter was shaky. The men left the trail, and everyone started to move into the pa.s.s.

Back in the camp, the draconians emerged from the caves. The sky was light enough now that Riverwind could easily see what was transpiring. Verminaard's dragon landed on the ground. Draconians swarmed around the Highlord. He leaned over the neck, conferring with his officers. At his command, the other three red dragons flew across the valley. One headed east. One flew west.

One flew south, straight toward them.

The dragon was not looking in their direction, however. The beast stared down below, searching the floor of the valley.

"Quickly, quickly!" Riverwind urged in soft tones, herding the people as he had once herded his sheep. "Take shelter in the pa.s.s. Move as far back as you can."

The people hurried. There was no panic, and Riverwind was just thinking they might actually succeed in escaping, when a cry pierced the air, "Wait! Don't leave me! Don't leave me!"

The dragon heard the voice. The beast lifted its head, s.h.i.+fted its gaze.

Cursing, Riverwind turned around.

Hederick was running along the trail, his flabby gut bobbing up and down as he ran, his face blotchy, his mouth gaping wide. His cronies trailed behind him, pus.h.i.+ng and shoving each other in their panicked haste.

Hederick came to the precipice. He looked at Riverwind, looked down, and his face paled.

"I can't cross that!"

"The rest of us did," said Riverwind coldly, and he pointed at the dragon, who had changed direction and was now flying toward them.

Hederick's friends shoved him aside, stepped onto the trail, and hurried across. Hederick, quivering in fear, crept along after them.

He made it safely, and once on the other side, he came storming up to Riverwind, about to launch into demands. Riverwind seized hold of the man and gave him a shove into the arms of several Plainsmen, who caught hold of the High Theocrat and hustled him off into the pa.s.s.

The dragon lifted its head and gave a great bellow.

Riverwind ran for the place where the dwarf had left the pick-axe. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the dragon's call had alerted Lord Verminaard. His dragon leapt off the ground and took to the skies. The draconians were starting to run in this direction as well. They could move faster over the ground than humans, for they used their wings to aid them. Hopping and leaping, they flowed over the trail like a scaly river.

Verminaard's dragon bore him swiftly toward the pa.s.s. The draconians were closing on the pa.s.s much faster than Riverwind could have believed possible.

Riverwind seized hold of the pick-axe. He looked to see that the last few stragglers were safely inside the pa.s.s.

"Paladine, be with us!" Riverwind prayed then, in a nod to Flint, he added, "Reorx, guide my hand."

Riverwind struck the striped rock with the pick-axe, hitting it at the place where the point had rested. The rock went bounding down the mountainside, and Riverwind scrambled backward. At first, nothing happened, and his heart sank. He looked to see the dragon swooping toward them. Verminaard had his hand outstretched, pointing at the pa.s.s, guiding the beast.

Then the earth shuddered. There was a rending, grinding sound and it seemed to Riverwind's astonished gaze as if the side of the mountain was on the move, rus.h.i.+ng down on top of him.

He turned and ran for the safety of the pa.s.s. Boulders bounded off other boulders and went sailing over his head. With a sound like rumbling thunder, the rock slide cascaded down the mountain side, taking with it the trail the refugees had just walked. The opening to the pa.s.s began to fill with chunks of stone.

Riverwind flattened himself on the ground, his arms protecting his head. He could not see the dragon, but he could hear its frustrated roars. The rock slide continued for several more moments, then ended in sudden silence, broken only by a few rocks s.h.i.+fting or settling into place.

Riverwind cautiously raised up to look. The face of the landscape had changed. The entrance to the pa.s.s was choked with enormous boulders. He heard the dragon's wings flapping on the other side of the newly made stone wall. The dragon could not land. The rock slide had taken what level ground there was down the mountainside. He heard sounds as though the beast was making some attempt to claw its way through the debris into the pa.s.s. This must have proven ineffectual, for the dragon soon ceased its efforts.

Riverwind looked skyward. Snow capped peaks soared high above him on either side. He wondered fearfully if the dragon would attempt to fly over the pa.s.s. The cleft in the mountain was steep and narrow; he doubted if the dragon would be able to fit inside. It would certainly risk injury to its wings. The dragon might still be able to deal destruction from far above.

Riverwind waited tensely for the shadow of the ma.s.sive red body and wings to blot out the dawn, but the dragon did not appear. Riverwind realized it had flown off only when he no longer felt the dragonfear. For the moment, they were safe.

For the moment.

Riverwind wended his way among the rocks to join the others. They were hugging each other and laughing, weeping and praying in thankfulness. Riverwind could not join in their celebration. He knew full well why Verminaard had not attacked. There was no need to risk his dragon in the pa.s.s when all he had to do was wait for them to come out the other side. As Tika had told them, there were draconians on the opposite side of the mountain. The refugees could not stay holed up in this pa.s.s forever. They must eventually come out, and the Highlord's forces would undoubtedly be waiting for them.

Their one hope was that Tanis, Flint, and the others could find the Gates to Thorbardin.

Otherwise, the refugees would be at a literal dead end.

Book II

Chapter 1.

Prince Grallen Returns. The Gates of Thorbardin.

Now what?

Led by Sturm under the magical influence of the enchanted helm, the companions wended their way up Cloudseeker, climbing along a steep defile that cut into the side of the moun-tain wall. The defile was one among many, and without the prince to guide them, they would have either never found it or would have chosen it by merest accident.

Tanis continued to mark the trail for the refugees, wondering more than once as he did so if he was wasting his time. He often looked back the way they had come, hoping to see some sign that they were safe, but the pa.s.s was often shrouded in fog or low hanging clouds, and he could see nothing.

The climb proved to be relatively easy. Whenever they came to a part of the defile that was steep and could have been hard to traverse, crude stairs carved into the rock wall provided safe pa.s.sage. Not even Raistlin found the going difficult. A night's rest had allowed him to recover his strength. He said that the pure, chill mountain air opened his lungs. He coughed less and was actually in a relatively good mood.

The sun was bright, the sky cloudless. They could see the desolate plains spread out beneath them and far off in the distance the ruined fortress, looking, as Caramon said, like a skull on a platter. They made good time, at least as far as Tanis was able to judge, considering he had no idea where they were going. He asked Sturm more than once to point out their destination, but the knight only shook his helmed head, refusing to answer, and continued to climb. Tanis looked to Flint, but the dwarf shrugged. He was obviously highly skeptical about all this.

"If there is a gate in the side of the mountain, I don't see it," he huffed.

As they climbed higher, the air grew colder and thinner. The humans, the half-elf, and the kender began to feel dizzy. Their breathing grew labored.

"I hope we don't have much further to go," Tanis said, catching up to Sturm. "If we do, I'm afraid some of us aren't going to make it."

He looked back at Raistlin, who had slumped down to the ground. So much for pure mountain air. Caramon leaned against a boulder. Ta.s.slehoff was wobbly on his feet. Even Flint was breathing hard, though he refused to admit anything was wrong.

Sturm raised his head and peered through the helm's eyeslits. "Almost there."

He pointed to a stone ledge about five feet wide jutting out from the side of the mountain. The defile ended here. Tanis looked back at Flint, and to his surprise, the old dwarf's eyes were bright, his face flushed. He stood smoothing his beard with his hand.

"I think this is it, lad," he said softly. "I think we're close!"

"Why? Do you see something?" Tanis asked.

"Just a feeling I have," said Flint. "It feels right to me."

Tanis looked around. "I feel nothing. I see nothing, no sign of any gate."

"You won't," Flint said proudly, "not with those half-elf, half-human eyes of yours. Admit it, my friend. You would have never found the way."

"I readily admit it," said Tanis, adding with a smile, "Would you?"

"I would have," Flint insisted, "if I'd been interested in finding it, which I wasn't up until now."

Tanis's gaze scanned the vast gray expanse of rock before them. "If we do find the gate, will the mountain dwarves let us in?"

"That's not what I'm asking myself," Flint returned.

Tanis gave him a questioning glance.

"What I'm asking is if there are any dwarves beneath the mountain to say 'yeah' or 'nay' to the matter. Perhaps the reason the gate has remained shut for three hundred years is that there is no one left alive to open it."

Sturm was already on the move, and Flint hiked after him. Tanis looked back at the others.

"We're coming," said Caramon.

Raistlin nodded, and aided by his staff and his brother, he began to climb. Ta.s.slehoff trailed along after.

They left the defile and walked onto the rock ledge.

"Dwarves built this," said Flint, stamping on the ledge. "We're here, Half-Elven. We're here!"

The ledge was smooth and level. It had once been much wider, but parts of it had either fallen off or crumbled away over time. They had not gone far along the ledge, perhaps thirty feet, when Sturm came a halt and turned to face the rock wall. Flint eagerly scanned the stone. The dwarf's eyes grew moist. He gave a long, tremulous sigh. When he spoke, his voice was husky.

"We have found it, Tanis. The Gate to Thorbardin."

"We have?" Tanis looked up and he looked down and saw nothing but smooth rock.

Sturm approached the wall, his hand outstretched.

"Watch this!" Flint said softly.

Raistlin elbowed Tanis out of his way in his eagerness to see what was about to happen. Ta.s.slehoff hurried to Sturm's side and stared expectantly at the blank wall.

"I would not stand there if I were you," Sturm warned.

"I don't want to miss anything," Tas protested.

Sturm shrugged and turned to face the mountain. Raising his hands, he cried out words in dwarven.

"I am Grallen, son of Duncan, King Beneath the Mountain. My spirit returns to the halls of my fathers. In the name of Reorx, I call upon the gate to open."

At the mention of the G.o.d's name, Flint s.n.a.t.c.hed off his helm and held it close to his chest. He bowed his head.

A beam of light blazed from the ruby in the center of Sturm's helm. Red and bright as the flame of Reorx's fire, the light illuminated the side of the mountain.

The ground rumbled, knocking Tanis to his hands and knees. The mountain shook and trembled. Raistlin balanced himself with his staff. Caramon lost his footing and slid part way down the trail. An enormous gate some sixty feet in height and thirty feet wide appeared in the side of the mountain. A grinding, screeching sound came from somewhere inside.

"Get out of the way!" Flint roared. He seized hold of Ta.s.slehoff by the scuff of his neck and dragged him to one side.

Like a cork in an ale barrel, the gigantic block of stone burst out of the side of the mountain and went rumbling over the ledge right where the kender had been standing.

Now that the gate was open, they could see the enormous screw mechanism that was shoving the huge block of granite forward. The gate grated along the ledge and continued on, past the edge. The mechanism that operated the gate whined and groaned, pus.h.i.+ng the gate farther and farther until the heavy stone block hung out over the side of the mountain.