Dragons of The Dwarven Depths Part 28

Tanis decided to change the subject before Flint started some new tirade.

"If Northgate remains open, the Theiwar will control it. How will that affect the Hylar?"

"The gate will not remain open," Kharas said flatly. "Unless something happens to prevent it, the Council of Thanes will send soldiers to guard the gate and keep out intruders until it can be closed and sealed once more."

"You think the gate should be remain open, don't you?" Tanis said, hoping he had found an ally.

"I believe it is my destiny, once I have obtained the Hammer of Kharas, to rule the united Dwarven Nations," said Arman. "To do that, the gate must remain open."

"Why are you so sure you're the one who will find the hammer?" Flint asked.

Arman lifted his head and raised his voice. His words reverberated throughout the cavern. "Thus spake Kharas: 'Only when a good and honorable dwarf comes to unite the nations shall the Hammer of Kharas return. It will be his badge of righteousness.'" He placed his hand on his chest. "I am that dwarf."

A rude noise came out of the darkness. Some of the soldiers were sn.i.g.g.e.ring into their beards. If Kharas heard, he pretended he hadn't.

"Ask him more about the Hammer of Kharas," Sturm urged Tanis, who shook his head.

Flint had once more lapsed into silence. The old dwarf would never admit to being tired, but Tanis noted that walking was costing him an effort.

"How much farther do we have to go until we are out of Theiwar territory?" Tanis asked.

"We have to cross that bridge," Arman replied, gesturing ahead. "Once we are on the other side, in the West Warrens, we will be safe. Then we can stop to rest."

A vast cavern opened up before them, spanned by a stone bridge of curious make. Small figures of dwarves carved out of stone lined the bridge on either side. The stone dwarves stood about three feet in height, forming a barricade to keep people crossing the bridge from tumbling off. Iron tracks ran down the middle of the bridge, with walkways for pedestrians on either side. The bridge, like everything else in this part of Thorbardin, showed signs of neglect. Some of the dwarven statues were missing heads or arms, while others had been destroyed completely, leaving gaps in their ranks.

"This cave is known as Anvil's Echo, for it is said that the sound of a dwarven hammer striking an anvil in this cave will echo for all eternity," Arman Kharas told them.

"An excellent defensive measure," said Sturm, looking on the bridge with approval. He stared overhead, but could see nothing for the darkness. "I take it there are murder holes in the ceiling?"

Arman Kharas was pleased by the knight's praise. "The enemy never made it past this bridge. The defenders of Northgate dropped down boulders, molten lead, and boiling oil on those who tried to cross. Few did, and their skeletons still lie at the bottom of the cave."

Flint glowered at the mention of this. He halted, frowning. "I won't cross," he stated.

Arman misunderstood. "No one ever goes up there now. You need have no fear-" he began in patronizing tones.

"Fear?" Flint went red in the face. "It's not fear! It's respect. My people died on this bridge and you tell me they lie there unburied, their souls lost and wandering."

"My people lie there, as well," said Arman. "When the blessed day comes when I unify the kingdoms, I will give orders that the dead of both sides are given proper respect."

Flint was considerably taken aback by this statement, which appeared to leave him at a loss for words. He muttered something to the effect that he guessed he would cross, but he kept giving Arman strange looks.

Arman sent some of his soldiers on ahead, to make certain the bridge was secure. He followed with the prisoners, and the rest of his soldiers closed in behind, as they began the long trek from one side of Anvil's Echo to the other.

"Mad as a marmot," muttered Flint.

"This is certainly a long bridge," stated Ta.s.slehoff, with a gusty sigh.

Caramon grunted in agreement.

Ta.s.slehoff had been keeping out of mischief mainly due to the fact that the dwarves had trussed up the kender so efficiently he had not been able to slip free. Every time Tas saw something interesting and started to wander off, the soldier would poke him in the back with a spear. Caramon wondered how long this would go on before either the kender found some way to escape, or the dwarf grew so frustrated he skewered him.

"I thought crossing a bridge with murder holes would be extremely interesting, but it isn't. It's boring."

"And never a mention of dinner," Caramon grumbled. "My stomach's so empty it's flapping around my backbone. What do Thorbardin dwarves eat anyway?"

"Worms," said Ta.s.slehoff. "Like the ones inside the lanterns."

"No!" Caramon said, shocked.

"Oh, yes," said Tas. "The dwarves have huge farms where they raise these gigantic worms, and butcher shops where they cut them into worm steak and worm stew and worm chops-"

Caramon was appalled. "Raist, Tas says that dwarves eat worms. Is that true?"

Raistlin was eavesdropping on Tanis's conversation with Arman, and he cast Caramon a look that said plain as words that he was not to be bothered with stupid questions.

Caramon suddenly found he wasn't as hungry as he had been. The kender was leaning over the barricade, trying to see the bottom.

"If I fell off, would I keep falling until I came out on the other side of the world?" Tas asked.

"If you fell, you'd fall until you hit bottom and ended up splattered all over the rocks," said Caramon.

"I guess you're right," said Tas. He looked up ahead to where Flint, Tanis, and Arman Kharas were walking together. "Can you hear what they're saying?"

"Naw," said Caramon. "I can't hear anything over all the tromp-ing, rattling, and clanging. These dwarves make noise enough for an ogre feast day!"

"Not to mention the thunder," said Tas.

Caramon glanced at him, puzzled. "What thunder?"

"A moment ago I heard thunder," said the kender. "Must be a storm coming."

"If there was, you couldn't hear thunder down here." Caramon's brow crinkled. "Are you making this up?"

"No, Caramon," said Tas. "Why should I do that? I heard thunder, and I felt it in my feet like you do when the thunder falls out of the sky..."

Caramon heard it too now. He stared up into the darkness. "That's not thunder... Raistlin! Look out!"

Hurling himself forward, Caramon knocked his brother down and flung his body across him protectively just as an enormous boulder struck the bridge where Raistlin had been standing. The boulder crushed two of the dwarven statues and opened a large hole in the barricade before it went bounding off into the darkness.

The Hylar scattered as another boulder came hurtling after the first. This one missed its mark, going wide of the bridge. They heard the first boulder land down below, smas.h.i.+ng into pieces.

"Raistlin! Douse that light!" Tanis shouted. "Everyone get down, hug the floor!"

"Dulak!" Raistlin gasped, and the light atop his staff went out. The dwarves shuttered their lanterns, and they were plunged into darkness.

"Not that this will do much good," Flint growled. "The Theiwar can see in the darkness better than they can in the light. It is only a matter of finding their aim."

"I thought you said the way to the murder holes was impa.s.sable," Tanis said to Arman.

"It used to be." The dwarf leader alone remained on his feet, staring upward in astonished outrage. "The Theiwar must have repaired it, though that is odd..."

His voice broke off as another boulder came down, striking the bridge some distance ahead of him, cracking the stone and causing the bridge to shake alarmingly.

"Caramon," said Raistlin testily, "move your great bulk off me! I can't breathe."

"Sorry, Raist," said Caramon, s.h.i.+fting his weight. "Are you all right?"

"I am lying on my back on a bridge in pitch darkness with someone hurling boulders at me. No, I am not all right," Raistlin retorted.

Another boulder smashed into the railing, crumbling more dwarven statues and causing everyone to flinch.

"That one just missed me!" Sturm reported grimly. "We can't stay here and wait to be smashed into jelly!"

"How far to go until we reach cover?" Tanis asked Arman in a low voice.

"Not far. Only about another forty feet."

"We should run for it," Tanis urged.

"Some of us can't see in the dark like you can, Half-elf," Caramon pointed out. "I think I'd rather get flattened by boulders than fall off this bridge."

They all ducked as another boulder thudded somewhere nearby.

Arman gestured to his men. "Unshutter the lanterns!"

The soldiers did as they were ordered, working quickly, and everyone started running.

"This bridge didn't turn out to be as boring as I thought," said Ta.s.slehoff cheerfully. "Do you think they'll pour boiling oil on us next?"

"Just run, d.a.m.n it!" Tanis ordered.

Ta.s.slehoff ran, and being extremely nimble and accustomed to fleeing all sorts of dangers, from irate sheriffs to angry housewives, the kender soon outdistanced everyone. Caramon lumbered along, keeping near his brother. Raistlin hiked up the skirts of his robes, and staff in hand, ran swiftly. Sturm brought up the rear. It was awkward going, trying to run with their hands bound, but the hurtling boulders gave them an excellent incentive to keep moving.

Suddenly, a cry sounded behind them. Pick, the sickly dwarf, had stumbled and fallen to his knees. Arman turned around. Seeing his brother's plight, he started to hand the Helm of Grallen to one of his soldiers. The soldier cringed, shook his head, and kept running.

"I'll take it!" offered Flint. "You'll have to cut my hands loose."

Another boulder whistled past, and they all ducked involuntarily. Pick cried out in terror as the boulder struck the bridge close to him, showering him with stone fragments. Kharas hesitated only a moment then whipped out a knife, sliced Flint's bonds, and tossed him the helm. Arman dashed back along the bridge, dodging a boulder as it struck the rail and bounded off. Clasping his brother's hands, Arman lifted him up, and slung him over his back.

They continued to run across the bridge. The green light from the worm-lanterns flared first in one place, then another, as the lanterns swung back and forth. The wildly flas.h.i.+ng lights made the dwarven statues appear to be capering in some sort of mad dance that added to the macabre terror of their race against death.

Tanis kept near Flint, who was now enc.u.mbered with the helm, thinking he might need help. The old dwarf ran strongly, however, his head down, legs pumping. He held the Helm of Grallen clasped fast in his arms and even running for his life, he wore a grim smile of satisfaction that boded ill for anyone who might try to take the helm from him again.

More boulders sailed down through the green-lit darkness, whistling past so close they could feel the rush of air on their cheeks. Tanis could see the end of the span now, sheltered beneath a large entry way. The light shone on the bars and the wicked points of a portcullis that, fortunately, was raised.

The sight spurred them on, giving those who were flagging their second wind. Ta.s.slehoff reached the entrance first, followed by the dwarven soldiers in a thundering rush. The rest of the companions came after. Raistlin collapsed just short of the opening and had to be dragged inside by his brother. Arman Kharas, carrying Pick on his back, came last. Once they were off the bridge, the boulders ceased to fall.

"The Theiwar targeted us," said Sturm, gasping for breath.

"They targeted Raistlin," Tanis pointed out.

Flint snorted. "I said the Theiwar were evil. I never said they didn't have good sense."

Chapter 5.

The Temple of Reorx. The Hammer of Kharas.

A Strange Encounter.

All of them, even the stalwart dwarves, who generally make light of any physical exertion, sank to the floor and lay there gasping for air. Tanis had a great many questions, but he lacked the breath to ask them.

Raistlin leaned back against the wall of the gatehouse. His golden skin took on an odd greenish cast in the lantern light. His eyes were closed. Every so often, his breath rasped.

"He's not hurt, just exhausted," Caramon informed them.

"We are all exhausted, not just your brother," Sturm said testily, trying to rub a cramp out of his leg. "We spent the first half the day climbing a mountain. My throat is parched. We need water and rest-"

"-and food," said Caramon, then added hurriedly, "vegetables or something."

"This area is still inside Theiwar territory and is not safe. A short distance ahead is a temple to Reorx," Arman told them: "We can rest there in safety."

"Raist, can you make it?" Caramon eyed his twin dubiously.

Raistlin, eyes closed, grimaced. "I suppose I will have to."

"I am afraid I must ask you to continue to carry the helm," Arman said to Flint. "Poor Pick cannot go on without my aid, and none of my men wants anything to do with it."

"If they think this helm's that terrible, why don't they just toss it off that bridge and have done with it?" Caramon asked Flint.

"Would you toss your dead father's bones off that bridge?" Flint asked, glaring at him. "Cursed or no, the spirit of the prince has come back to his people and must be laid to rest."

Arman insisted they leave, and groaning and grunting, they started off, crossing a drawbridge that did not appear to have been raised in years. Fearing pursuit from behind, Sturm suggested they might attempt to raise this bridge, but Arman said that the mechanism was rusted and would not work.

"The Theiwar will not pursue us," he added.

"You said they wouldn't attack us either," Flint remarked.

"My father will be angry to hear of this a.s.sault on me and my men," Arman stated. "This might lead to war."

Leaving the gatehouse, they emerged onto a main road lined with more abandoned buildings and shops. Streets and alleys led off the road in various directions. There were no lights, no sounds, no signs of habitation.