Dragons of The Dwarven Depths Part 43

He scrutinized the t.i.tle. "'Being a History of Duncan, High King of Thorbardin, with Full and Complete Accounts of the Ogre Battles, the Dwarfgate Wars, and Subsequent Tragic Ramifications Involving Civil Unrest.' Whew!" Tas paused to straighten out his tongue that had gotten all tangled up over that last bit.

Flint came peering through the fog. "Ta.s.slehoff, you rattle-brain, where have you gotten to?"

Tas s.n.a.t.c.hed off the spectacles and thrust them in one of his pockets. He had found them lying about, which made them fair game, but he wasn't certain Flint would see it that way, and Tas didn't want to waste time arguing.

"I'm over here," he called.

"Doing what?" Flint demanded, seeing the light and bearing down on him.

"Nothing," Tas said, hurt. "Just taking a look at this old book.

"I can read Dwarvish, Flint. I can't speak it or understand it, but I can read it. Isn't that interesting?"

Flint took away the lantern and glanced at the book. "That's not Dwarvish, you ninny. I don't know what it is. Any sign of Arman?"

"Who? Oh, him. No, but take a look at this book. It's about King Duncan. The t.i.tle says so, along with a bunch of other stuff about rams and civil unrest."

He stopped talking, because suddenly he couldn't read the t.i.tle. The words had gone back to being squiggles, whorls, dots, dashes and curlicues. When he'd seen them through the spectacles, they had been words. When he looked at them now, with the spectacles tucked in his pocket, they weren't. Tas had a sneaking hunch he knew what was going on.

He glanced about to see if Flint was watching. The dwarf was calling out Arman's name, but no one answered.

"I don't like this," Flint muttered.

"If he is out there searching for the Hammer, he wouldn't be likely to tell us where, would he?" Tas pointed out. "He wants to beat us to it."

Flint grunted and rubbed his nose, then muttered again and pulled out the map. Holding it in his hand, he went over to stare and poke at a wall. He looked at the map, then looked back, frowning, at the wall. "Must be a hidden door here somewhere." He started to tap the wall with his hammer. "According to the map, the Promenade of n.o.bles is on the other side, but I can't figure out how to get to it."

Tas took out the spectacles and held them to his eyes and looked down at the book. Sure enough, the Ramifications and Subesquents were back. Tas peered through the spectacles at Flint, to see if they made the dwarf look different.

Flint looked the same, rather to Tas's disappointment. The wall, however, had changed a good deal. In fact, it wasn't a wall at all.

"There's no wall, Flint," Tas told him. "Just keep walking and you'll be inside a dark hall with statues all lined up in a row."

"What do you mean there's no wall? Of course, there's a wall! Look at it!"

As Flint turned to glare at him, Tas whipped off the spectacles and held them behind his back. This was more fun than he'd had in a long time. The wall was there once again. A solid stone wall.

"Whoa!" breathed Tas, awed.

"Quit wasting time," Flint snapped, "and come over and help me look for the secret door. On the other side of this wall is the Promenade. We walk down it, go up some stairs and then go up some more stairs, and we're at the entrance to the Ruby Chamber with the Hammer!" He rubbed his hands. "We're close. Really close! We just have to find some way past this blasted wall!"

He went back to tapping at the stone work. Tas held up the spectacles, took one last look, then, secreting them in his pocket, he walked boldly up to the wall, closed his eyes-in case the spectacles might be wrong and he was going to smash his nose-and walked straight into the stones.

He heard Flint bellow, then he heard the bellow get stuck in the dwarf's windpipe so that it turned into a choke, and then Flint was yelling. "Tas! You rattle-brain! Where did you go?"

Tas turned around. He could see Flint quite clearly, but apparently the dwarf couldn't see him, because Flint was running up and down in front of a stone wall that wasn't there.

"I'm on the other side," Tas called. "I told you. There's no wall. It just looks like there's a wall. You can walk through it!"

Flint hesitated, dithered a little bit, then he put the hammer back in its harness and set down the lantern on the floor. Holding one hand over his eyes and thrusting the other hand in front of him, he walked forward slowly and gingerly.

Nothing happened. Flint took away his hand from his eyes. He found himself, just as Tas had said, in a long, dark hallway lined with statues of dwarves, each standing in its own niche.

"You forgot the lantern," said Tas, and he went back to fetch it.

Flint stared at the kender in wonder. "How did you know that wall wasn't real?"

"It was marked on the map," Tas said. He handed Flint the lantern. "Where does this corridor lead?"

Flint looked back at the map. "No, it isn't."

"Bah!" Tas said. "What do you know about maps? I'm the expert. Are we going down this hall or not?"

Flint looked at the map and scratched his head. He looked back at the wall that wasn't there, then stared at the kender. Tas smiled at him brightly. Flint frowned, then walked off down the corridor, flas.h.i.+ng the light over the statues and muttering to himself, something he tended to do a lot when he was around the kender.

Ta.s.slehoff put his hand into his pocket, patted the spectacles, and sighed with bliss. They were magic! Not even Raistlin had such a wonderful pair of spectacles as this.

Tas meant to keep these marvelous spectacles forever and ever, or at least for the next couple of weeks, which, to a kender, amounts to roughly the same thing.

As Flint walked the Grand Promenade, flas.h.i.+ng the lantern light here and there, he forgot Ta.s.slehoff and the mystery of the vanis.h.i.+ng stone wall. The Hammer was as good as his.

In each niche he pa.s.sed stood a statue of a dwarven warrior clad in the armor of the time of King Duncan. Moving down the long row, Flint imagined himself surrounded by an honor guard of dwarven soldiers, clad in their ceremonial finery, a.s.sembled to pay him homage. He could hear their cheers: Flint Fireforge, the Hammer-Finder! Flint Fireforge, the Unifier! Flint Fireforge, the Bringer of the Dragonlance! Flint Fireforge, High King!

No, Flint decided. He didn't want to be High King. Being king would mean he'd have to live under the mountain, and he was too fond of fresh air, blue sky, and suns.h.i.+ne to do that. But the other t.i.tles sounded fine to him, especially the Bringer of the Dragonlance. He came to the end of the rows of dwarven soldiers and there was Sturm, splendid in his armor, saluting him. Next to him stood Caramon, looking very solemn, and Raistlin, meek and humble in the great dwarf's presence.

Laurana was there, too, smiling on him and giving him a kiss, and Tika was there, and Otik, promising him a life-time supply of free ale if he would honor the inn with his presence. Ta.s.slehoff popped up, grinning and waving, but Flint banished him. No kender in this dream. He pa.s.sed Hornfel, who bowed deeply, and came to Tanis, who regarded his old friend with pride. There, at the end of the row, was the flas.h.i.+ly dressed dwarf from his dream. The dwarf winked at him.

"Not much time..." said Reorx.

Flint went cold all over. He came to a halt and wiped chill sweat from his brow.

"Serves me right. Daydreaming when I should be keeping an eye out for danger." He turned around to yell at the kender. "What do you think you're doing, lolly-gagging about when we're on an important quest!"

"I'm not lolly-gagging," Tas protested. "I'm looking for Arman. I don't think he's been here. We'd see his footprints in the dust. He probably didn't know that wall wasn't a wall."

"Most likely," said Flint, feeling a jab of conscience. In his dream of glory, he'd forgotten all about the young dwarf.

"Should we turn around and go back?" Tas asked.

The line of statues came to an end. A short corridor branched off from the promenade to the left. According to the map, this corridor led to one set of stairs that led to a second set of stairs. Hidden stairs. Secret stairs. Young Arman would never find them. He could manage to make his way to the Ruby Tower without climbing up these stairs, but the route was longer and more complicated. Unless, of course, that dwarf claiming to be Kharas showed him the way.

"We'll find the Hammer first," Flint decided. "We've come this far, after all, and we're close to where it might be, according to the map. Once we have the Hammer safe, then we'll search for Arman."

He hurried down the corridor, with the kender at his heels, and there were the stairs. Flint started climbing, and the aches came back to his leg muscles, and the pain returned to his knees, and there was that annoying shortness of breath in his chest again. He distracted himself by trying to decide what he was going to do with the Hammer once he found it.

He knew what Sturm and Raistlin wanted him to do. He knew what Tanis wanted him to do. What he didn't know yet was what he, Flint, wanted to do, though the ancient dwarf that called himself Kharas had been pretty near the mark.

Teach them a lesson. Yeah, that sounded good to him, really good. He'd teach them all a lesson-dwarves, Sturm, Raistlin... everyone.

He reached the top of this first flight of stairs and emerged into a very small, very dark, and very empty chamber. Flint held up the lantern and shone it along the wall until he found a narrow archway that had been marked on the map. He peered inside, holding the lantern high.

Ta.s.slehoff, peering with him, gave a sigh. "More stairs. I'm getting awfully tired of stairs. Aren't you, Flint? When they build my tomb, I hope they make it all one level so that I won't have to climb up and down all the time."

"Your tomb!" Flint scoffed. "As if anyone would build a tomb for you! You'll most likely end up in the belly of a bugbear, and if you're dead you won't be climbing up and down anything."

"I might," said Tas. "I don't plan to stay dead. That's boring. I plan to come back as a lich or a wraith or a relevant, or something."

"Revenant," Flint corrected.

He was putting off the evil moment when he would have to make his aching legs climb this next staircase which, according to the map, was about three times as long as any of those they had climbed previously.

"Maybe I won't die at all," Ta.s.slehoff said, giving the matter some thought. "Maybe everyone will think I'm dead, but I won't be dead, not really, and I'll come back and give everyone a big surprise. You'd be surprised, wouldn't you, Flint?"

Deciding that the pain of climbing stairs was not nearly so bad as the pain of listening to the kender's yammering, Flint heaved a sigh, grit his teeth, and once more began to climb.

Chapter 19.

Prisoners Of the Theiwar. Tanis Warns The Thanes.

Riverwind regained consciousness when the cold water slapped his face. He sputtered, gasped, then groaned, as the pain twisted inside him. Opening his eyes and seeing himself surrounded by enemies, he clamped his teeth down on the groan, unwilling to let them see how much he was suffering.

Bright light lanced through his aching head. He longed to shut his eyes against it, but he needed to find out what was going on and he forced himself to look.

He was in a large chamber with stone walls, lined with columns, with the feel of an a.s.sembly room about it, for there were nine large throne-like chairs arranged in a semi-circle on a dais near where he lay, bound hand and foot, on the floor.

Several dwarves stood over him, arguing loudly in their deep voices. Riverwind recognized one of the dwarves-a skinny little runt who wore a helm with a smoked gla.s.s visor, who was doing most of the talking. He'd been the one asking the questions, the same questions, over and over. Then, when he didn't get the answers he wanted, he had ordered them to make the pain come again.

Hearing another groan, Riverwind turned his gaze from the dwarves. Gilthanas lay beside him. Riverwind wondered if he looked as bad as the elf lord. If so, he must be close to death.

Gilthanas's face was streaked with blood from cuts on his forehead and his lip. One eye was swollen shut, he had a lump on his jaw and a ma.s.sive bruise on one side of his face. His clothes were torn, and his skin was burned and blistered from where they'd pressed red hot irons into his flesh.

They had treated the elf worse than they'd treated the humans. Riverwind had the feeling that the filthy dwarves had tormented Gilthanas more for the fun of it than because they wanted information from him. A gully dwarf of grandiose appearance was now throwing cold water in the elf's face and slapping him solicitously on the cheek, but he still remained unconscious.

Riverwind lay back and cursed himself. He'd taken precautions. He and his men-six all told-had entered the gate armed and wary, intending to look about, trying to determine if this was, in truth, the fabled gate to Thorbardin. He and his cohorts had never seen the attack coming. The draconians had emerged from the shadows, disarmed them and disabled them swiftly and efficiently.

The next thing Riverwind knew, he woke in pitch darkness, in a dungeon cell, with a hairy and foul-breathed dwarf bending over him, asking him in Common how many men were in the army, where they were hiding, and when did they mean to invade Thorbardin?

Riverwind said over and over there was no army, they weren't planning to invade. The dwarf told him to prove it, to tell him where the people were hiding so he could go see for himself. Riverwind saw through that ploy and told the hairy little runt to go throw himself off the mountain. They then tried to loosen his tongue, beating and kicking him until he'd lost consciousness, when they woke him up, put a bag over him, and carted him off. He rode first in a wagon, then in a boat, then he'd lost consciousness again and had awakened here. He wondered how his comrades were faring. He'd heard their screams and their moans, and he knew proudly that the other four Plainsmen were not giving the dwarves the answers they wanted.

His head was starting to clear, and he decided that he wasn't going to lie here at the feet of these dwarves like a criminal.

"Paladine, give me strength," Riverwind prayed and, gritting his teeth, he struggled to sit up.

The scrawny dwarf said something to him and kicked him in the side. Riverwind stifled a groan, but refused to lie back down. Another dwarf, this one tall with gray in his beard, said something angrily to the dwarf in the helm. Riverwind took a good look at this dwarf. He had a n.o.ble bearing and a proud mien, and though he was not regarding Riverwind with a friendly eye, he appeared to be outraged by the human's beaten and b.l.o.o.d.y condition.

This dwarf barked an order and beckoned to one of the guards. The guard left the Court, returning a short time later bearing a mug of some foul-smelling liquid. He held it to Riverwind's lips. Riverwind looked up at the n.o.ble looking dwarf, who gave a rea.s.suring nod.

"Drink it," he said in Common. "It will not hurt you." To prove it, he took a drink himself.

Riverwind sipped at the brew, spluttering and coughing as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat. Warmth flooded his body, and he felt better. The throbbing pain eased. He shook his head when offered another drink, however.

The n.o.ble looking dwarf did not waste time on pleasantries. "I am Hornfel," he said,"Thane of the Hylar. Realgar, Thane of the Theiwar, the dwarf who took you and the others prisoner, says that you arrived here with an army of humans and elves prepared to invade us. Is that true?"

"No, lord, it is not true," said Riverwind, talking slowly through swollen lips.

"He lies!" Realgar snarled. "He admitted the truth to me himself not an hour ago!"

"He lies," said Riverwind, fixing the Theiwar with a baleful stare. "I am the leader of a group of refugees, former slaves of the evil Dragon Highlord of Pax Tharkas. We have women and children with us. We were sheltering in a valley not far from here, but then dragons and dragonmen attacked us and we were forced to flee."

He watched the Thane's expression, and when he spoke of the dragons and dragonmen, he saw Hornfel's face harden into disbelief.

"We have heard such lies before, Hornfel," Realgar said, "the exact same tale told to us by the other Talls."

Riverwind lifted his head. Other Talls. That could only mean his friends. He wondered where they were, if they were safe, what was going on. The questions were on his tongue, but he did not ask them.

He would find out more from the dwarves before saying something that might be entirely the wrong thing to say.

The dwarves went back to arguing among themselves, however, and Riverwind could not understand a word. He had the impression the dwarf known as Hornfel did not trust or like the dwarf he called Realgar. Unfortunately, Hornfel did not trust Riverwind either. One other Thane appeared to be siding with Realgar, and another with Hornfel. The rest seemed to be having trouble making up their minds.

Gilthanas stirred and groaned, but the dwarves ignored him. Riverwind could do nothing to help the elf. He could do nothing to help anyone. He sat, watched, and waited.

Tanis had no trouble getting himself apprehended, though he first had to free his captors to do so. He was walking down the street near the inn when he came upon two Hylar guards bound hand and foot, with gags over their mouths. He cut their bonds and helped them stand, then told the guards he needed to speak to Hornfel on a matter of the utmost urgency. The dwarves were clearly furious, but not at Tanis. They, too, wanted to talk to their Thane, and after a moment's deliberation, they decided to take Tanis with them.

The dwarven guards hustled him into one of the lifts. Other dwarves stared at him and scowled, and several called out, wanting to know what was going on. His guards had neither the time nor the inclination to answer. They kept fast hold of him, though he a.s.sured them he wasn't going to try to escape; he wanted to see Hornfel. When the lift stopped, the guards stopped to question other guards, asking where Hornfel could be found.

"The Court of Thanes," was the answer.

Tanis was in no very good humor. He'd had little sleep and nothing to eat. He was outraged at the attempt on their lives, deeply concerned about Flint and Tas and the knowledge that draconians were in Thorbardin. He entered the Court of Thanes determined to make Hornfel understand his peril. He planned to have his say first and give the Thanes time to digest his words. When his friends arrived with the draconian prisoner, he would use the monster to emphasize his point. He would demand that he and his friends be allowed to seek out Flint and Tas in the Valley of the Thanes. Tanis was convinced Flint had been, or was going to be, lured into some sort of trap.

These words were in his head and on his tongue, and he forgot them all in dismay and amazement when he walked into the Court of the Thanes to find Riverwind bound, bruised, and bleeding, and Gilthanas barely conscious.

Tanis stopped and stared at his friends. The Thanes stopped and stared at him, wondering what he was doing here. The most astonished was Realgar, who had been convinced Tanis and the rest were dead. Realgar foresaw trouble, but he didn't know how to combat it, for he had no idea what had gone wrong.

Tanis tried to speak, but the guards launched into their grievances. Hornfel grimly asked for an explanation for why the prisoner was loose. The guards explained with furious gestures at Realgar, while the other Thanes added to the confusion by loudly demanding to know what was going on.

Tanis saw that for the moment, his guards were defending him better than he could. He hastened over to Riverwind, who was sitting up, his back propped against a column. Gilthanas lay on the floor beside him, more dead than alive.