Dragons of The Dwarven Depths Part 38

"What was that?" Flint asked, astonished.

Arman Kharas gazed up at the miracle of the floating tomb.

"Some say it is Kharas wielding the hammer. None know for sure."

The note sounded again, and Flint was forced to admit, it did sound very much like a hammer striking metal. He thought about what might be waiting for them in that tomb-should they ever manage to reach it-and he wished he had taken Sturm's advice and insisted that Hornfel allow his friends to come with him.

"King Duncan began building his tomb in his lifetime," Arman stated. "It was to be a grand monument where his children and their children and those who would come after him would all be laid to rest. Alas, his vision of a Hylar dynasty was not to be. His two sons he buried in a plain, unmarked cairn. The tomb of his third son will forever remain empty.

"When the king died, Kharas, disgusted by the fighting among the clans, bore the body to the tomb himself. Fearing that the king's funeral would be marred by unseemly behavior on the parts of the feuding Thanes, Kharas banned all of them from attending. It is said that they sought to enter, but the great bronze doors slammed shut upon them. Kharas never returned. The Thanes pounded on the doors, trying to force them open. The earth began to shake with such violence that buildings toppled, the Life Tree cracked, and the lake overflowed and flooded the surrounding land.

"When the mountain ceased trembling, the bronze doors swung open. Each eager to find the hammer and claim it for his own, the Thanes fought over who would be the first to enter the Valley. b.l.o.o.d.y and battered, they surged inside, only to discover, to their horror, that the king's tomb had been torn from the ground by some dread force and set floating in the air far above their heads.

"Down through the years, many have searched for the means that would gain us entry, but to this day, none have found it, and now"- Arman turned his dark gaze from the tomb to Flint-"you, a Neidar, claim to know the secret." Arman stroked his long black beard. "I, for one, doubt it."

Flint took the bait. "Where is Prince Grallen's tomb?" He was suddenly eager to have this over and done with.

"Not far." Arman pointed. "The obelisk of black marble you see by the lake. Once the obelisk stood in front of Duncan's Tomb, but that was before it was torn out of the earth. A statue of the prince stands at the site, and beyond it are the remains of a marble archway that crumbled when the mountain shook."

Arman cast a glance at Flint. "What do we do once we reach the prince's tomb? Unless you would rather not tell me," he added stiffly.

Flint felt he owed the young dwarf something. Arman had given him his hammer, after all.

"I'm to take the helm to his tomb," said Flint.

Arman stared, astonished. "That is all? Nothing about the Hammer?"

"Not in so many words," Flint said evasively.

There had been a feeling, an impression, but nothing specific. That was the main reason he hadn't said more to his friends and yet another reason he had decided to leave them behind.

"But you agreed to make the wager with Realgar-"

"Ah, now," said Flint, walking among the mounds of the dead, "what dwarf who calls himself a dwarf ever turned down a bet?"

Ta.s.slehoff stared at the bronze doors, then he went over and gave one of the doors a swift kick, not so much because he thought he could kick the door open, but because he was so profoundly annoyed with them. Tas's toes tingled all the way up to his shoulders, and he became more annoyed than ever.

Dropping his hoopak onto the ground, Tas put both hands on one of the doors and pushed. He pushed and pushed, and nothing happened. He paused to wipe the sweat from his face and thought to himself that he wouldn't go to this much trouble for anyone except Flint. He also thought that he'd felt the door give just a little, so he pushed again, this time throwing all his weight into it.

"You know who would come in handy about now?" Tas said to himself, pus.h.i.+ng with all his might on the door. "Fizban. If he were here, he would hurl one of his fireb.a.l.l.s at this door, and it would just pop open."

Which is exactly what the door did at that moment.

Pop open. With the result that Tas found himself pus.h.i.+ng against nothing but air and sunlight, and he landed flat on his face on the ground. Landing flat on his face reminded Tas of something else Fizban would have done-given the absence of flame, smoke, and general destruction that usually accompanied the daft old wizard's spells. Tas spent a moment lying in the gra.s.s, sighing over his friend's demise. Then, remembering his Mission, he jumped to his feet and looked about.

It was then he realized that the bronze door was swinging shut behind him. Tas made a leap for his hoopak and managed to haul it inside at the last moment before the door boomed shut. Turning around, he looked up into the sky and saw the floating tomb, and he heard what sounded like a hammer striking a gong. The kender was enthralled.

Tas lost several moments staring at the tomb in dumbfounded wonder. The hammer was up there in that tomb that was floating in the sky, and Flint was going up there to get it. Tas gave a moist sigh.

"I hope I don't hurt your feelings, Queen Takhisis, when I say this," he said solemnly, "and I want to a.s.sure you that I still plan to visit the Abyss someday, but right now the place I most want to be in all the world is up there in Duncan's Tomb."

Ta.s.slehoff trudged off in search of his friend.

The tomb of Prince Grallen was one of many cairns, tombs, and burial mounds that had been constructed around the lake in the center of the valley. Here, around the lake, Thanes and their families had been buried for centuries. Grallen's tomb was the only empty tomb, however; left open to receive the body that would never be found. The tomb was marked by a black obelisk and a life-size statue of the prince. The statue was of the prince in full battle regalia, but it held no weapons. The hands were empty as the tomb, the head bare.

Kharas stood before the statue of the prince, his head bowed in respect, his own helm in his hand. Flint, his mouth dry, walked slowly forward, carrying the Helm of Grallen. He was at loss to know what to do. Was he supposed to place the helm in the empty tomb? He started to turn away, when he felt a chill touch on his flesh. The stone hands of the statue were resting on his own.

Flint's stomach lurched. His hands shook, and he nearly dropped the helm. He tried to move, but the stone hands held him fast. He looked into the statue's face, into the eyes, and they were not empty stone. They shone bright with life.

The stone lips moved. "My head has been bare to the sun and the wind, the rain and the snow these many long years."

Flint shuddered and wished he'd never come. He hesitated, nerving himself, and then, quaking in fear, he placed the helm on the statue's head. Metal sc.r.a.ped against stone. The helm slid over the cold face and covered the eyes. The red gem flared.

"I go to join my brothers. Long have they waited for me that we could make this next journey together."

A feeling of peace flowed through Flint, and he was no longer afraid. He felt overwhelming love, love that forgave all. He let go of the helm almost reluctantly and stepped back and bowed his head. The feeling of peace faded away. He heard Arman gasp, and when he could see through the mist that covered his eyes, Flint saw the prince now wore a helm of stone.

He choked back the lump in his throat, rubbed the moisture from his eyes, and looked about. Finding what he sought, he circled around the obelisk.

"What do we do now?" Arman asked, following after him. "Where are you going?"

"That arch over there," Flint said, pointing.

"The arch was a monument to Kharas," said Arman. "It fell down when the tomb was torn from the earth. It lay in ruins for many years. My father had it rebuilt and rededicated in hopes that it would lead us to the Hammer, but nothing came of it."

Flint nodded. "We have to walk through the arch."

Arman was skeptical. "Bah! I've walked through the arch countless times and nothing happened."

Flint made no reply, saving his breath for walking. As Raistlin had so unkindly reminded him, he was not getting any younger. The fracas with the mob, the hike through the valley, and the encounter with the statue had taken its toll on his strength. For all he knew, he was a long way from the hammer.

The arch was made of the same black marble as the obelisk. It was very plain with nothing carved on it except the words, "I wait and watch. He will not return. Alas, I mourn for Kharas."

Flint halted. He rocked back and forth on his feet, making up his mind, then, sucking in a huge breath and shutting his eyes, he ran through the arch. As he did so, he shouted out loudly, "I mourn for Kharas!"

Flint's run should have taken him to the brown gra.s.s on other side of the arch. Instead, his boots clattered on rickety wooden floor boards. Shocked, he opened his eyes and found himself in a shadowy room lit by a single ray of sunlight s.h.i.+ning through a narrow arrow slit in a stone wall.

Flint sucked in a breath and let it out in awe. He turned around, and there was the arch, far, far behind him. He heard a distant voice cry, "I mourn for Kharas" and Arman appeared in the archway. He stared around in wonder.

"We are here!" he cried. "Inside the tomb!" He sank to his knees. "My destiny is about to be fulfilled."

Flint stumped over to the arrow slit and peered out. He looked down on brown gra.s.s and a sun-lit lake and a small obelisk. His eyes widened. He took a hasty step backward.

"Quick! Block the entrance!" he bellowed, but he was too late.

"I mourn for Kharas," cried a shrill voice.

Ta.s.slehoff Burrfoot, hoopak in hand, burst through the arch.

"You promised you were going to take me, Flint," he said, "but I guess you forgot and I didn't want you to feel bad, so I came along myself."

"A kender!" Arman exclaimed in horror. "In the tomb of the High King! This cannot be permitted! He must go back."

He rushed at Ta.s.slehoff, who was so astonished he forgot to run. Arman grabbed hold of the kender and was about to hurl him back through the arch when he suddenly let go.

"The arch is gone!" Arman gasped.

"Say," said Tas, picking himself up off the floor, "if the arch is gone, how do we get back down on the ground?"

"Maybe we don't," Flint said grimly.

Chapter 15.

Lizards. Fleas. Vermin.

Tell me more about this hammer," said Dray-yan.

"It is a moldy old dwarven relic," Realgar replied. He eyed the lizard-men suspiciously. "Nothing you'd be interested in."

"According to what His Lords.h.i.+p has heard, the dwarf who finds the hammer will determine who is to be High King," said Dray-yan, "and now we have found out that two dwarves have set off in search of it. You failed to mention this to Lord Verminaard."

Realgar scowled. "I did not think his lords.h.i.+p would interested."

"On the contrary," said Dray-yan, his long tongue flicking out from between his teeth. He sucked it back in. "His lords.h.i.+p is interested in everything that happens here in Thorbardin."

The aurak draconian and his commander, Grag, were deep inside Thorbardin meeting with the Thane of the Theiwar. One of Dray-yan's paid informants had taken the information about the hammer to a draconian message bearer, who deemed it important enough to travel swiftly through the secret tunnels and wake Grag in the middle of the night. Grag had deemed it important enough to wake Dray-yan. The same messenger had also brought information about the escaped slaves and the gang of a.s.sa.s.sins who led them.

Dray-yan and Grag traveled swiftly to Thorbardin to discuss these matters with Realgar. Dray-yan had met with the Theiwar leader before, but then he had been in the guise of Lord Verminaard. Dray-yan decided to appear as his true scaly self when he met with Realgar today. Lord Verminaard was on his way to Thorbardin, Dray-yan told Realgar. His Lords.h.i.+p would be present when the hammer was found.

Realgar sneered. "As for determining who will be High King, axes, swords, and spears will do that, not some rusty hunk of metal." The Thane scratched his neck, plucked off a flea and squeezed it between his fingers. He tossed it aside.

Dray-yan was patient, as he continued his questioning. Emperor Ariakas was vitally interested in obtaining this hammer. Dray-yan doubted very much if the emperor cared who was king of the dwarves. "But the hammer is reputed to possess magical powers."

Realgar gave the draconians a sharp glance. He thought he knew what this was about now. "The dragonlances. That's what you mean, isn't it?" He chuckled. "I can see where that might interest Verminaard."

Dray-yan and Grag exchanged glances. Grag shook his head.

"His Lords.h.i.+p knows nothing about dragonlances," said Dray-yan.

"They're lances used to kill dragons-and other lizards," Realgar added with an ugly grin.

Dray-yan looked grimly at the Theiwar. He would have liked to have throttled the stinking little maggot. He had to be conciliatory, however. Their plans depended on him.

"I will inform His Lords.h.i.+p about these dragonlances," Dray-yan said. "In the meantime, the hammer is said to be located in the..." He forgot the name and glanced at Grag for the information.

"Valley of the Thanes," Grag supplied.

"Two dwarves have gone seeking it-"

"Let two hundred go. They won't find it. Even if they do, what will it matter?" Realgar leered at Dray-yan. "Or perhaps you see yourself as King Beneath the Mountain, Lizard?"

The aurak answered in draconian for the benefit of Grag. "Trust me, you filthy little weasel, I have no plans to become High King of a bunch of hairy, vermin-infested rodents. Being slave-master will be punishment enough. Still we all must make sacrifices for the cause."

Grag's tail twitched in agreement.

Realgar, who didn't understand draconian, looked irritably from one to the other. "What did you say to him?"

"I told Grag I dare not dream of rising to such exalted heights, Thane," said Dray-yan. "To serve my Lord Verminaard is the extent of my humble ambitions." He paused, "I cannot say the same for Lord Verminaard, however."

Realgar's bushy brows came together over his squinty eyes, causing them to nearly vanish from sight. "What do you mean?"

Dray-yan looked at Grag. "Should we tell him?"

Grag nodded solemnly. "The Thane has been of great help to us. It is right that he should know."

"Know what?" Realgar demanded.

"Let us consider what might happen if Lord Verminaard obtained the Hammer of Kharas and became High King of Thorbardin. He would control the iron ore production. He would receive the profits."

"No human can be High King!" cried Realgar, swelling with fury. "The hammer is a hunk of metal. Nothing more."

"Her Dark Majesty does not consider the hammer a 'hunk of metal,'" said Dray-yan. "She might also have an interest in these spears."

"Lances," said Grag. "Dragonlances."

Dray-yan shrugged. "If, as you say, the hammer is nothing but a 'hunk of metal,' then you have nothing to fear. If the hammer does truly possess magical powers, then Emperor Ariakas, in the name of Her Dark Majesty, will reward the person who brings it to him and make that person High King of Thorbardin. And that person will be Lord Verminaard."

"Verminaard has no right to rule us!" Realgar declared sulkily.

Dray-yan sighed deeply. "His Lords.h.i.+p's ambition is vast, as are his appet.i.tes. Not that this in any way diminishes his greatness," he added hastily.

"I asked for his help in making me me king," Realgar stated. "If I had known he planned to claim the throne himself, I would have never brought him in on this deal. I will be king, no one else, especially no human." king," Realgar stated. "If I had known he planned to claim the throne himself, I would have never brought him in on this deal. I will be king, no one else, especially no human."

He brooded awhile, then regarded Dray-yan with speculative interest. "You seem to be intelligent-for a lizard, that is."

Dray-yan didn't dare glance at Grag, for fear they'd both burst out laughing.

"I am grateful for your good opinion, Thane," said Dray-yan. He added, with a sigh, "I wish His Lords.h.i.+p shared it."