The Chaos Blade

First part of the Chaos Blade as of 11/07/05

Geltharin pushed the hood of his cloak back from his head of short brown hair, and stood looking out from the head of the pass towards the west. The light of morning was dispelling the last shadows of night, and from here one could look out and see all the plains of the western provinces of the Kingdom of Telthar laid out before them. There, several leagues away, he could just barely make out a spot upon the fields where it seemed the light shone off the high towers and spires of the city of Telenar. In the War of the Gate that city had been taken and laid ruin by the armies of the Dark OverLord, Gralathore, yet Geltharin knew that even now the work went quickly to restore it. He stood thus for a few moments, lost in the memory of his wedding, which had been held in the main square of Telenar about two weeks earlier. At last he sighed with a smile, and turning found himself looking straight into a pair of eyes that were as blue as the clearest saphirres, an almost unearthly light burned deep in those eyes, and Geltharin had always found it so easy to lose himself in them.
“Good morning my lady,” he said as he took her hand in his and kissed it.
“Good morning my love,” she said with a smile. She had again put her long black hair into the braid she always wore it in while travelling, and she had a gray cloak pulled about her shoulders. It was the same style and colouring as the one that Geltharin wore, for they had been gifts from Delphine’s Aunt Brighid. Brighid, was one of Delphine’s Evlish relations, though as Geltharin had learned she was not really her Aunt, Delphine merely called her that to make things easier. When she had gifted them with the cloaks, Brighid had told them they would keep them warm or cool, as was needed, and that in the wilds they would help to hide them from any unfriendly eyes they might happen upon. In fact, Geltharin had noticed that if Delphine was more than a few feet away in rock, or trees, or brush, the cloak hid her almost perfectly even from his eyes, for they seemed to somehow blend in with rocks, and trees, or whatever else was about, especially at dusk or early light, and in the dark of night, one could move about almost completely unseen in them.
“It would seem to be the dawn of another splendid day,” Geltharin began. “Perfect for walking and riding.” He paused for a moment. “I only hope that Betheya is not giving your Aunt too much trouble. She is grown in the traditions of Telthar, yet she can be strong headed and childish at times.” They had left Geltharin’s adopted sister, Betheya, in the care of Brighid nearly two days earlier, for they were off to spend some time alone, and to travel to the distant city of Illaria which sat on the coast of the Southern Sea. There dwelt one of Geltharin’s only blood relatives that he was aware of, his older sister Layna, whom he called Arasai from time to time, which was her birth name, it having been changed when they were separated by fate as children. It had not been until during the war the autumn before that they had been reunited, or indeed even knew that the other lived. So now, Geltharin and Delphine were going to visit her for a while, and Layna’s husband, Lord Delath, whom they had become friends with during the war.
Delphine laughed, “Do not worry, my Aunt has experience in dealing with strong headed young women, she did raise me after all, and I must admit that I was most likely not the easiest to deal with at that age.”
“Not to mention that Betheya does not have a sword at hand, or know how to use one,” Geltharin said with a smile.
“Well, that was one argument I never tried with my Aunt,” she said as she looked up at the sky towards the east, where the sun was now rising into the sky. “We should be moving, we slept late and the morning is wearing away.”
Soon the two were again leading their horses west through the stones of the pass, which led from the lands of Calnath to western Telthar. Geltharin’s steed, Windfoot, nuzzled his shoulder as they walked, “I just gave you an apple,” he said glancing over his shoulder a the dark brown horse, with its white diamond shape between its eyes. The horse snorted, yet made no other sign as he followed his master. Behind Delphine walked Shadow, her black as night steed, which had no markings whatsoever. They did not wish to ride the horses among the the rocks this high up in the path, letting the animals rest a bit from bearing their weight. After a few hours they came down to where the road ran among the higher hills, and upon either side was a green turf, and hugh pine and spruce trees grew up not far from the road. Soon they were riding along, moving quicly towards the low lands, and it was late afternoon when they came to where the road forked in some of the lower foothills. Here they rested for a few moments, and then took the southern way when they moved on again.
Now upon the road in the low hills they were able to ride a bit faster, and two evenings later they had come to where the road passed a few miles southeast of the Tarnure Hills, beyond which lay the great Inland Sea to the north and west. They made camp that night in a partially sheltered dell not far from the road. A small stream ran nearby, and there were a few trees about, with plenty of dead branches to use as fuel in their fire for the night, and soon they were both fast asleep under the spreading stars. They kept no watch, for they were still in areas that were well patrolled by the Realmsmen of Telthar. The Realmsmen were men, mostly younger archers and huntsmen, in the service of the King of Telthar, who patrolled the roads and country areas of the Kingdom, guarding against bandits and other dangers. King Arenth had had many young men recruited into the Realmsmen over the last few months, as many of their numers had fallen during the war of the previous autumn. Since winter had broken, the Realmsmen, with the aid of companies of the general army of Telthar, had successfully regained control of most of the countryside, and the areas this close to the road were thought to be fairly well protected now.
It was late in the night, and the moon wass sailing across the sky far above, when Geltharin awoke to Delphine gently shaking his arm. He could barely see her face in the dark, for the fire had burned low, but he could see that her eyes held a tight look. Sitting up he glanced about, “Is something wrong my love?”
“I am not sure,” her voice was no more than a whisper. “I sensed something in my sleep that does not feel right.”
He pushed aside his blanket and crouching on the ground cast his cloak, which had been rolled at his side upon the ground, about his shoulders. He noticed that Delphine had already done the same, and that now she had her head cocked to one side, as if listening. She had the keen hearing, as well as sight, of her elven kindred, and he had learned that she could at times hear the smallest of noises at a good distance. “Do you hear something?” he asked quietly.
“I thought I did,” she said with a frown. “I am not sure what, yet it is the lack of night noises that troubles me.”
As she said this he also became aware of the lack of noise from insect, and nightly birds, which were common things at this time of year. “Perhaps a storm is coming?” yet he doubted his words as they came out of his mouth, for he could see by the stars and moon that the sky was clear of clouds as far as he could see.
Just then Delphine stiffened, and grabed his arm urgently. “Listen,” she breathed almost silently.
For several long moments Geltharin listened intently, yet at first he could hear nothing. Just as he was about to ask her what she had heard, a sound came faintly to his own ears. At first it seemed only a faint murmer, as of many voices far off, or of birds and beasts speaking quietly in their own language. Then, as if it was moving closer, the mumer became voices, speaking in what seemed harsh tones. Deep and gutteral were the voices, though no individual words were distinct as of yet, but who ever it was seemed to be moving closer upon the road beyond the hill.
Without speaking the two rose to a crouch, and moved silently up the hill. Soon they were near the top of the hill, and dropping to the ground they crawled slowly to where they could just see out over the hill. The road was laid out in the moonlight below, running almost due north and south in a low spot not far from the foot of the hill. Just coming into view, moving quickly from the north, came a band of about a dozen creatures with the form of men, a little under two spans in height. They were clad in rough armor, some in what seemed to be thick leather plates, though some could be seen to be wearing metal plates and iron helms, and on their feet were tall iron shod boots. The moon light glinted on the points of spears, and the blades of curved swords, and it showed the pale skin of their faces, which had a haunted look to them. Their faces were drawn and tight, and some were almost skeletal in appearance, and dark eyes looked out of them. Amid them, with bands on their wrists, were three men in the livery of Telthar, though torn and tattered, and one appeared to have blood running down the side of his face.
Geltharin and Delphing slipped quickly back down the hill towards where they had been sleeping. As they approached the horses Geltharin looked at Delphine. “I have never heard of Orcs being this far south before,” he said quietly.
“I have not either,” Delphine responded as she climbed to Shadow’s saddle. “Yet there they are, and they appear to have taken a few Realmsmen off guard. We can not leave them to whatever fate the Orcs have in store for them.”
“No, we can not,” Gelthairn began as he too mounted Windfoot, after lossing the ropes tied between the horses and one of the trees. “There are about a dozen of them, perhaps if we raise a cry and then charge them we can scare them, make them think that there are more than just the two of us.”
“My thought also,” Delphine said with a grim smile. “I did not see any archers among them, so if they do not break and run we can outrun them and circle back around. They will not be able to catch us while on horseback.”
The small band of Orcs were tramping along, grumbling among themselves about the prisoners, about the road, about their supplies, and anything else they could think of, as was common with these creatures, and they were not attentive to their surroundings. Suddenly there was a cry from ahead somewhere, someone was yelling out orders, and then they heard the voice call out clearly for a charge. A few of them stopped and took a step back, scanning the night about them, and only a few of them drew weapons, while two grabbed hold of the prisoners roughly.
Almost imediately there was another cry from behind, and those at the rear now turned, grabbing their weapons also, and the captain began shouting orders. Just then the shadow of a horsemen came charging towards them from the rear, and a clear voice called out an elven battle cry. This was too much for a few of the Orcs, and without waiting they bolted westward away from the road.
“Come back here you filthy cowards!” shouted a great large Orc in metal armor at those that had ran, and then he looked back towards the rear just in time to see what appeared to be a woman on a black horse, charge into his command, bowling over three of his fellows, and the last sight he had was her sword, just before it clove through his neck, his sword not coming up in time to block the blow.
This strange warrior charging unafraid into their ranks, the slaying of their captain, and then the sight of a second horsemen charging from in front, was enough to make several more of the Orcs break and run westward. As confusion grabbed hold of the Orcs, the three prisoners leapt to life, tackling their guards to the ground, grappling for the Orc’s weapons, willing to fight for their lives. It was not long before five of the Orcs were dead upon the road, and the rest were fleeing westward in confusion, afraid that they had been spotted by some large force of men that would persue them into the darkness. Of the three men, two were still alive, one having died trying to take a long knife from one of the Orcs.
Geltharin jumped to the ground near to where the Teltharian men were now standing over their dead comrade, and quickly cut their bonds with the knife at his belt. “We can not thank you enough,” began one of the two men, who had short dark hair beneath which two dark blue eyes looked out. “They fell upon us a few leagues to the north, just after sunset, we had been traveling back towards Telenar on King’s business.”
Geltharin looked the two men over as he cut the leather bands, not only were they in Teltharian colours, one also had messenger markings on his sleeve. “Where are you headed from if I might ask?” inquired Geltharin while he bent down to close the dead man’s eyes and compose his hands in rest.
The two men glanced at each other, they were young Geltharin had noticed, and the dead man seemed older than they, and had a captain’s mark on his chest tabard. Finally the first man spoke again, “We had been sent on a routine patrol to spy out the lands west of the Inland Sea. The word should be spread, so I suppose it will do more good than harm to tell you.” He paused for a moment, seeming to choose his words slowly as Delphine rode up on Shadow. “About a day or so northwest of the coast of the Inland Sea we found a great encampment of Orcs, not far from the Iron Mountains, there must be ten thousand of them at the least. We tried to make for the old ferry on the west coast of the Inland Sea, where we had crossed in the first place, but we were attacked in the night by large wolfish creatures, and there we lost two others of our scouting party, yet the three of us escaped, and were forced to travel round the south side of the Sea. We thought we had lost any that might have persued us until the Orcs attacked us tonight.”
Geltharin looked at Delphine for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face, yet before he spoke she nodded, “I know what you are thinking, it would seem our journey to Illaria is cut short a bit.”
“We will go with you back to Telenar, if we set out now, even with our horses baring double we should be able to make the city before nightfall of the day after tomorrow.” Geltharin said to the two young men. “First though we should care for any wounds you may have taken, and there is a small stream not far from here among the hills where we had camped ourselves. Let us get out of sight of the road quickly though, for the Orcs may return once they realize that they are not being persued.”
The two men had taken a few scratches, and one of them had a long nasty looking cut on his left arm, yet none of them seemed to be poisoned, and once they had cleaned these they then quickly pilled a makeshift cairn of stones from the stream over the body of the captain not far from the road. Soon all four were underway, moving through the hills east of the road upon Shadow and Windfoot. They rested briefly as the sun climbed into the sky, to shine down upon the land from above the mountains to the east. The two men it turned out were cousins, named Rarth and Gearth, who had joined the army together a few months earlier. Their first journey into danger, and seeing comrades in arms die before their eyes, seemed to have left them a bit shaken, but to their credit they kept control of themselves and had not panicked, though they held a haunted look of fear deep in their eyes.
Two days later, in the early evening, they came at last to the south gates of the city of Telenar. They had been travelling with an escort of two soldiers for the last two hours, these having been asigned to see them to the city by the captain of the guards near the town of Naraith. Another man had been sent ahead also on a fresh horse, to bear in brief the tidings that the messengers carried. As soon as they had entered the gates a man called for them to hault, and three men in the livery of the knights of the King’s house stepped up before them. One stood ahead of the others, his head of sandy hair showing his youth, and his brown eyes shone with the warmth of the smile upon his face. “Geltharin my friend, and Lady Delphine,” he added with a bow.
“Greetings Sir Perrith,” Gelthairn said with a nod of his head.
“I had not looked to see the two of you again so soon,” said Perrith. “Though when word came describing the two people who had saved the lives of two of the King’s scouts, I knew somehow that it was you. Come, King Arenth awaits the four of you in the Keep.”
With that the four dismounted, the horses being taken to a nearby stable to be cared for, as they followed Sir Perrith and the other two knights through the streets of Telenar. Geltharin glanced around as they walked, marvled at how much had been acomplised in even the little time since he and Delphine had been here for their wedding. Soon they passed through the great courtyard, and then through the gates of Keep Telenar. Perrith led them down a long stone corridor, and then opened a wooden door on the left hand side, and with out a word, motioned for the others to follow him in. They entered the room beyond, and the other two knights remained outside, standing guard at the door, so as to prevent any interuptions.
It was a small room, and in it there were no windows, in one corner there was a small iron brazier, though it was not used at this time of year, and the only light came from torches on the wall, and candles that were set about a large wooden table in the middle of the room. King Arenth stood on the other side of the table, leaning on his arms over a large map of the countryside of Telthar that was laid out upon the table. He looked when they entered, and smiled warmly as he greeted them,” Welcome once again Geltharin and Delphine, and well met I say. Well met also I say to the two of you, and a good job you have done to bring this word back to us. Now, show me on the map where these Orcs you saw are gathered, and what are their numbers?” The King wished to get straight to business, for the saftey of his Kingdom was at risk, a saftey that he had worked for the last few months to restore after the war.
The two young men made their full report to King Arenth, and then told of their return journey, and their capture by the Orcs and subsequent resque by Geltharin and Delphine, “If they had not come along when they did, I am not sure what would have become of us, or if we would have even survived the rest of that night.”
King Arenth had seated himself in one of the small wooden chairs, and was staring at the wall in silence. When the two men had fallen silent, Perrith, who had been standing queitly off to one side, spoke up, “How many do you say there are again?”
Rarth did not hesitate in his response, “Ten thousand at the least, I know it is said that a scared man will count every enemy twice, yet even Captain Marrin agreed with this assesment at the time.”
Arenth then broke his silence, “You have done well, now go and find food and rest, for I may call upon the two of you tomorrow.” With that the two men bowed and made their way quickly out of the chamber.
“As if we did not have enough troubles, what with the food shortages in the east of the Kingdom, and so many people still left without homes here and in Calnath,” Perrith said after a moment. “And now Orcs.”
King Arenth suddenly chuckled, “Now you are beginning to sound like me Perrith.” The King then leaned back in the chair, “Yet you are very correct, we must find out what it is these Orcs are doing, and if they are planning any attack against us. I fear at this time we do not have the strength to withstand a determined assault by ten thousand Orcs for long.” Arenth glanced at Geltharin and Delphine, who were still standing on the opposite side of the table, “Sit my friends, please. Once again it seems you have done the Kingdom a great service in aiding my scouts to bring word to us of this possible threat.”
The two sat, and Geltharin nodded his head to the King, “We did what we felt was nessicary, nothing more your Majesty.”
“Yes,” spoke up Delphine. “We did out duty as citizens of Telthar, as I am sure others would have done in similar situation.”
“Both of you underestimate yourselves I think,” Arenth said, then turned to Perrith. “Sir Perrith, please see that proper guest chambers are prepared for our friends, and have an evening meal brought to us here, for yourself as well, for I wish to speak to you more about this situation.”

It was late that night before Arenth retired to his personal chambers, and even then he sat in thought for a time. At last he stood and stepped out upon the balcony that looked out over the now sleeping city. The work to repair the damages caused during the war the previous autumn had been under way for months, and it would still be some time before the city regained its old beauty. Directly below his balcony was what had once been a wide garden that had contained all manor of flower, tree, and other such plant, some coming from far, exotic places. There was a nice garden there again now, yet most of the flowers were of varieties common to Telthar, and as of yet no trees grew there. “Even the simplest things are lost in war,” he muttered, and then pulled his night robes about him tighter as a cool draft came to him on the air. With that he turned and walked back into the room, and he did not see the dark shadow that melted out of the sky to swoop down and land noislessly upon the balcony.
The hairs on Arenth’s neck raised as he came to his bed side, and he felt eyes watching him. Turning he saw a sight before him that he had seen only in dreams and portraits of days long gone. There, about half way across the room from him, stood a tall figure with what appeared to be grayish skin, and at its side were large folded wings. Dark eyes looked out from its pale face, and in its mouth were large pointed fangs. Even as he saw the creature, he let out a startled cry, and leapt backward, rolling over the bed, putting it between himself and the creature. Forward it came, leaping upon the bed, its clawed hands open as it watched the King intently. “Guards!” cried Arenth, knowing he could not hope to fight this creature with nothing but his bare hands, and no weapon did he have in the chamber with him. The creature lunged again even as he cried, and the King barely got out of its way in time, one claw rending his robes as it caught just the edge of the fabric.
Arenth turned in a crouch, his attention on his enemy, yet out of the corners of his eyes he searched for anything he might use as a weapon against this thing. Moving quickly he grabbed up a wooden chair and hurled it at the creature, yet it caught the chair in mid air and tossed it back at the King, the chair shattering against the wall where Arenth had stood just a moment before. Just then the door burst open, and in hurried Perrith, a sword in hand. His eyes fell upon the creature that stood opposite the King and his face went pale. Suddenly the creature lunged at him, and instinctively he raised his sword, the other impaling its midsection on it. Yet the creature seemed unaffected, and reached out with its clawed hands to slash at Perrith’s throat. Quickly he ducked the swing, and pulling back withdrew his sword from the creature. Now it stepped back and seemed to gauge Perrith for a moment before turning and springing again towards Arenth with a speed that no mortal man could match.
Yet Arenth had kept his wits about him, and in his hand was the small ornamental dagger that he had nearly forgotten upon his night stand. Even as the monster launched itself towards him, he let the dagger fly and threw himself to the floor, rolling as he hit so that the creature would not land on top of him. The dagger lodged itself in his attackers throat, and the creature crashed into the wall with the sound of breaking bones. Again it stood and turned towards where the King was now crouching, and as it reached up to remove the dagger from its throat, Perrith charged, his sword swinging threw the air to slice through the creatures neck before it could react, its head flying across the room with the force of the blow.
“Thank you Perrith,” began the King, yet Perrith turned to the door where another man stood, his face white and his mouth hanging open.
“Get an ax, we must dismember it,” ordered Perrith. “And have a fire built up in the hearth in the other room to burn the remnants.”

The next day dawned clear and bright, and Geltharin stood upon the small balcony of the chambers that had been given over to the two, looking out over the great square. Delphine stepped up behind him and wrapped one arm about his waist. “Morning my love.”
“Good morning my love,” he said and kissed her. “I was lost in thought and did not hear you behind me.” He looked into her deep blue eyes for a long moment and then sighed. “Things are not exactly as I would have them for us, especially at this time. At least Bethaya is safe with your Aunt, so I do not need worry about her I think. Do I guess rightly that if danger presses, your Aunt is more capable of handling it than she appears by her size and demeanor?”
“You need not fear for Bethaya’s saftey,” Delphine began slowly. “My Aunt is more than capable when need presses.” She then turned and looked out over the courtyard again. “Do you think perhaps these Orcs are in league with Gralathore?”
Geltharin crossed his arms over his chest, “I would think that if he had their allegience, he would have used them against us when he invaded Telthar last autumn, yet he did not. Though it could be that he has been able to only recently gain their loyalty, or perhaps they are merely taking advantage of the unstable situation here, for Telthar is still weak from the war with Gralathore.” He then turned and strode suddenly into the chamber, and without a word began to dress in his reding clothes once again. “I do not know why,” he said after a moment. “But I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to go down to the east gate. I feel that I am wanted there, almost as if,” he paused. “I think I know why, Rendal is there I believe, and wondering where we are. This has happened a few times before, that I will feel it if I am in his thoughts, especailly when he is concerned.”
Delphine began to dress also, “Let us go down and find him then, perhaps he has some news, and he should know of the mustering of these Orcs, that is if he does not already know.”
It was not long before the two had descended from their room in the Keep to the courtyard below and began making their way through the streets of the city towards the eastern gates. They had not long passed out of the courtyard when they saw an old man coming towards them clad in a long red cloak, stained with travel. His hair fell long and gray from beneath the pointed blue hat upon his head, and his gray beard fell nearly to the silver scarf that was tied about his waist, though he moved quickly, as he leaned lightly on the wooden staff in his left hand. Seeing Delphine and Geltharin approaching, he stopped and smiled at them.
“Well, it is a relief to see that the two of you are safe and sound, though I had actually hopped that you had passed far enough south so that you could continue your journey in peace and quiet,” said the old man. His name was Rendal, and even his aged appearance did not show the count of years that he had seen. He was a Wizard, and was known far and wide, and by various names among various people, for all of his long life he had fought against the forces of evil, and much good advice and aid had he brought to many lands and kingdoms at need. To some he was a councilor, in other lands he was named among their High War Chiefs, and some thought him just a kindly old wonderer, who would from time to time delight and amaze children and others with small tricks, and tales of far off days. Few could say they knew him well, yet Geltharin was one, for Rendal had been his friend, companion, and teacher since boyhood, and Geltharin was in fact one of the Wizard’s few remaining blood relatives.
“It may be better though that you are here,” continued Rendal. “We should go somewhere we can talk quietly, but first I must pay a visit to King Arenth, for weather he knows it or not his Kingdom is in grave peril once again.”
“So you know of the Orcs?” asked Delphine.
“Yes,” said Rendal, and if the fact that they knew of it surprised him, he did not show it. “So the King knows of it also I take it?” At Geltharin’s nod he went on, “Very well, perhaps the two of you can escort me to see him then?”
“There is no need to go far,” said a rich voice not far away, and as they looked, they saw King Arenth with Perrith at his side walking towards them. His face was grayish, as if he had slept little, and his dark hair was un characteristically unkempt. He was wearing his armour, as was Perrith, and behind the two came at least a dozen guards in full armour. “Word of your arrival came to me just moments ago Rendal.” Arenth continued.
“Perhaps it is best if we talk somewhere private,” interjected Perrith suddenly. “Considering certain events it may not be safe to be in the open for long.”
Arenth nodded, and with questioning glances from Geltharin and Delphine, Perrith led the group back into the Keep and soon they had gathered in the small chamber in which they had met with the King the evening before. The guards remained in the corridor, and before closing the door Perrith told them to stay alert, and then looking at one of them he added a strange order, “I want news on the search within the hour.”
“Yes Sir Perrith,” the man said, and strode off as Perrith closed the wooden door.
“Has something happened?” asked Delphine into the silence that was on the rest of them.
“There was an attempt on the King’s life during the night,” said Perrith. “So far, few outside of the King’s guard know this.”
“I wish to keep this quiet, at least for the moment,” said Arenth. “I do not want to cause a panic if it can be avoided. The attacker has been dealt with, thanks to Sir Perrith’s timely arrival, for I was unarmed at the time, having been preparing for sleep.” There was something in King Arenth’s eyes that Geltharin had not seen there before, a shadow of fear, or so it seemed.
“And what manor of attacker was it,” asked Rendal. “If I may ask.”
“It was something I have never encountered before,” said the King. “Something I had thought only existed in childhood stories and the tales of old wives.”
“It was a Draugnir,” said Perrith. “Or so it seemed to me, from what I have heard tell of them. We dismembered and burned the carcass.”
At the naming of the creature even Rendal seemed taken aback, and the knuckles of his old hands were white as they clutched the carved wood of his chair. “A Draugnir,” he repeated quietly. “Things may be much worse than I had dared to think at first.” Suddenly he stood and began pacing pack and forth in the space before the door, his arms crossed behind his back. “I came here thinking that the Orcs gathered near the Iron Mountains were merely trying to take advantage of the situation left from the war with Gralathore last autumn. Yet if there are Draugnir loose in the lands again,” he paused, leaving the sentence unfinished.
Through Geltharin’s mind raced the ways to fight such creatures, beheading, dismemberment, fire, these were the most sure ways to kill a Draugnir, though they also hated and feared sunlight, and some said it would kill them. Also the thought crossed his mind that the Draugnir had been thought to have been destroyed to the last many centuries before, yet one had been here in Telenar, only the night before. An unbidden image came to his mind, of a pale unearthly face like those he had seen in old murals, leaning down over Delphine’s sleeping form. He shook himself from these thoughts quickly.
“I thought that there were no more Draugnir in the world,” Delphine said quietly.
Rendal stopped pacing, “So the wise have thought, until now that is. I suppose it is too much to hope that this one was the last, though that may be the case. No, we must be prepared in case there are more of them. It disturbs me that the Draugnir picked your balcony in particular, out of all of the places in the city, to strike.” He looked at the King from under his bushy eyebrows for a moment.
“Do you think that someone was commanding it?” asked Perrith.
“Perhaps,” answered the Wizard slowly. “Yet that line of thought brings up other, more unpleasant possiblities to think about.”
“Such as?” asked Geltharin.
“The Draugnir could be commanded by only a very few of the Enemies servants,” Rendal glanced at Geltharin. “Or so it was during the Last Great War with the Dark Lord.”
For several moments an uneasy silence fell on the room, broken at last by a knock at the door. Perrith stepped to the door and opened it slowly, then spoke to the guardsman that stood beyond. After a moment he closed the door and turned to the others. “There is not even the rumor of another of them in the city.”
“Well they would hide in daylight,” Delphine began. “At night is when we must be on our guard.”
“Quiet right, quiet right,” said Rendal, then turned to King Arenth. “Your Majesty, I humbly offer my council to you, if you wish it.”
“Yes,” responded the King, seeming to come suddenly out of deep thought. “I will gladly listen to your council Rendal, for you have shown to be wise and trustworthy, and I deem that at this time we must all take what council we can against what ever evil is brewing.”
“Then I suggest first that at night the city guard should be doubled, and men must be warned of what may be lurky in the dark sky. Also fires should be lit here and there through out the city, for the Draugnir fear it,” Rendal stroked his long beard as he spoke. “Also we need to know exactly what these Orcs are doing, and if we can learn who is leading them it may help us to understand what is happening. Perhaps Gralathore has made some alliance with them at last.”
“If I may interrupt,” interjected Perrith. “An expeditionary force of horsemen has already been prepared, and had been set to depart this day. The original plan was to pass around the Inland Sea to the north, and so come between it and the Iron Mountains.”
Rendal thought for a moment, “Yes, I suppose it is the quickest way to get there without using the old ferry, and that will most likely be watched.”
“Very well, they should set out as soon as they are ready,” said Arenth. “Who is commanding the force?”
“Captain Riland is with them now, and I had thought to go with them myself my Lord,” Perrith began.
“Very well,” said Arenth. “Take no unnecessary risks with your company Perrith, or with yourself. Learn what you can of their loctaion, dispostion, and anything else you can, then return quickly.”
“May I also suggest,” began Rendal. “That Sir Perrith also dispatch messengers to inform King Eirgo of Rahndur of the situation once he has learned a bit more of what the Orcs are about?”
“My thoughts also,” answered Arenth. “Let it be so.”
With that Perrith bowed to the King, “Then with your leave.” Then turning he opened the door, and stepped out into the corridor.
“Your Majesty,” Geltharin said once Perrith had gone. “With your permission, I can not sit here idle and I ask leave to,”
“Nay,” said Arenth raising a hand. “You would ask to join Sir Perrith’s company I guess? And you also milady?” At nods from both Geltharin and Delphine the King went on. “I have another mission in mind for the two of you. Do either of you know of the Tuathe, who dwell to the south and west of here?”
“I have been among them before,” said Delphine, and Geltharin nodded also.
“They must be made aware of the danger, and perhaps they have already done some scouting of their own,” said Arenth. “I ask the two of you to act as my messengers to them, and offer their people sancturary here in Telthar, in case the Orcs should march south. Also their strong arms would be a great boon to us, even though their numbers are few.”
“A very good idea your majesty,” said Rendal before the young couple could speak.
Geltharin glanced at Delphine, and together they nodded their consent to the task.
Early the next morning found the two at the stables by the south gates, preparing their steeds for the journey. It would only take them a few days to arrive at the main settlement of the Tuathe, though what they would find there when they arrived they knew not. Rendal was standing nearby, leaning on his wooden staff, and talking to a small grey skinned creature that stood at his side. The figure’s face had an almost cat like appearence to it, except the eyes, which were a dark brown in color, and a set of small wings were folded on his back. His name was Quaith, and he was a Gargoyle. He had acompanied Rendal on many journeys in the last several years, and he had rejoined him, after having passed some time speaking with one or two of the guards at the east gate, whom he had met during the war the previous autumn.
“Now I want you to be careful,” said Rendal turning to Geltharin and Delphine. “We do not know what the situation is to the south for certain.”
Geltharin turned and looked at the Wizard for a moment. “Though you are certain that it is less dangerous than our going with Perrith’s company to the north,” he began finally. “Do not think I do not know your mind old man.” Then he stepped closer so to speak with Rendal quietly. “Though I did not wish to take Delphine into danger again either.”
Rendal smiled at him, “I do not think that is your choice, and be careful if you try to make it yours, for you may find yourself in danger from her.”
Geltharin laughed, “Indeed. Well, I believe we are almost ready. Are you going to remain here in the city until our return?”
“I may, and then again I may not,” Rendal said thoughtfully. “I might go and try to get some news myself from,” he paused suddenly. “Well, no mater. I will see the two of you soon enough.” He said as Delphine stepped over to them.
“I am ready if you are,” she said, and at a nod from Geltharin she reached out and gave Rendal a quick hug, and looked at Quaith. “Take care of him while we are gone.”
“I will try, but keeping him out of trouble is a difficult thing to do you know,” said the Gargoyle, his voice having a rough edge to it that reminded one of sliding gravel.
“Humph!” Rendal shot a quick glare at the Gargoyle, then clasped Geltharin’s hand. “Do be careful though you two, and come back as swiftly as you may once you have spoken to the Tuathe. I believe they might have news that is important for all of us to know.”

So it was that Geltharin and Delphine set out once again from the city of Telenar, and were soon again on the great north south road. They passed the town of Naraith within an hour, and by early evneing they had covered some eighteen leagues. It was not yet dark when they made camp, for they wished to have a fire going before night fall, for what protection it would give against the Draugnir if there were anymore about.
“I think tomorrow we should cut westward a bit from the road,” said Geltharin as he was building up the fire. “We could be among the Tarnure Hills before nightfall tomorrow.”
“I agree,” said Delphine. She sat next to him near the fire, handing him some dried meats and one of the wrapped cakes that Brighid had given them. “I hope Layna does not become concerned when we do not arrive in Illaria as we had planned.”
“I had told her only that we might pay a visit,” said Geltharin as he sat back, seeming satisfied with the fire. “At the time we had not decided yet after all. Though I do wish there was a way we could get a message to her and Delath of what is happening here, not that I would expect that Delath has any aid to lend at this time, for Illaria is in bad shape still I believe also.”
“It would be good to know what passes there, and if these troubles here are isolated to the north,” Delphine said. “We assumed at first that the war was only a local mater last fall remember.”
“Yes,” Geltharin said thoughtfully. “We should take turns watching tonight again I am afraid. I will take the first watch if you wish.”
“Very well, but I want your promise that you will wake me if so much as the wind changes,” she said.
“I will my love,” then Geltharin began to eat with a distant look on his face. “It seems that troubles may be destined to haunt us for some time. Such is our fate I suppose.”
Delphine nodded, “I still hope that perhaps things are not as dark as they seem now, though I admit that hope is a faint one. I had after all, looked forward to spending a good deal of time together quietly, rather than becoming enmeshed in danger again so soon. Though that is the way of evil I suppose, to force us down paths we do not wish to take. And we must face those paths bravely.”
Geltharin nodded, then he gave Delphine a sidelong look, “Yet because of certain actions of ours, there may come a day that you at the least can not take those paths without first considering the saftey of another that may come.”
Delphine’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to speak, yet suddenly her face changed, and it seemed to Gelthairn that her checks flushed slightly, something that did not happen often with Delphine. “That day may come, and though I now wish it to not come soon, considering the situation we find ourselves in, I knew the possible results of our actions together.”

The sun was just setting on the second day of thier journey when Perrith called for a halt. They were not far east of the coastline of the Inland Sea, just north of the old ruins of Veithara, and the next day they would turn west to come between the sea and the Iron Mountains. He scanned the horizon to the west, nothing to be seen but the low hills that were all about the Inland Sea. So far they had seen no sight of any enemy, and even the scouts he had sent forward had reported nothing unusual as of yet. All that day an unsettling quietness had fallen on the land though, not a bird or beast had they seen or heard since the previous nightfall, and in the last hour the horses had started growing nervous. Chestnut snorted suddenly, and Perrith reached down to pat the horse on the side of the neck reasuringly, “There, there big fella.” Then he turned his attention to the other men.
“The horses seem restless and afraid,” said Captain Riland as he rode up beside Perrith.
“Yes Captain,” Perrith responded quietly. “Make camp, and spread the word quietly for the men to stay alert. Also I want four men to a watch tonight, I fear there may be trouble in store for us.”
“Yes sir,” said Riland as he turned his horse and went to carry out his orders.

The night was dark, for clouds had covered the face of the moon, and the light of the stars seemd to shine pale above the mists of the world. Perrith lay rolled in a blanket, yet sleep remained far away from him, his ears alert for any sound above the crackle of the two watch fires. At last he pushed aside the blanket and stood, strapping his sword belt on, he walked over to where two of the watchmen stood near the edge of the fire light. They stood a bit straighter when they saw Perrith approaching. “Anything unusualy?” he asked them.
“Nothing sir, other than this dratted silence,” said one of the two men. “I would greatly welcome the normal nightly noises, it is not right to be this quiet in the high summer days.”
“You are correct there,” Perrith said slowly as he also scanned the shadowed land about them. He was about to walk over to the other side of the camp, where the other two guards stood, when suddenly a great chorus of howls broke out from all about them. Men leapt to their feet in an instant at the sound, and Perrith’s sword was in hand before he realised he had drawn it.
“Wolves!” cried a couple of the men, and even as they did great dark shapes could be seen racing towards their camp from all sides at once. Into the fire light came the first of them, a form in the shape of a wolf, yet greater than any wolf that Perrith had ever seen, black was its thick hair, and its eyes glowed with an unearthly yellow light, slaver dripping from its exposed teeth.
“Werewolves!” he cried as he dodged the creature that had leapt at him. Men all around the camp were scurrying about, as the great shapes of the Werewolves came charging into the fire light. A few of the men grabbed long branches from the fire, and stood back to back, the burning brands keeping the Werewolves at bay. Perrith came to one of the fires, grabbing up a branch also, and then charged to where one of the creatures had one of his men pinned to the ground. The beast shied back as Perrith charged it with the flaming branch, and another man leapt up behind it, his sword plunging into the creature’s side. Quicker than lightening the beast turned, the man’s sword stuck in its side, and grabbed the man by the throat in its iron like jaws. Perrith charged the creature again, and this time the brand made contact, the Werewolf’s coat catching fire, and it leapt about madly, out of fear of the flames. Yet Perrith had no time to check on his hurt comrades, for just then another of the creatures charged towards him, and he swung the branch again, though he missed the beast shifted its course away from him.
Screams rent the air all about, and Perrith glanced about quickly, trying to find where most of the men were, so as to regroup them. Without warning he felt something strike him from behind, and both the branch and his sword were lost to his grip. Head over heels he flipped, and reaching out he grabbed hold of the fur of the Werewolf as it continued its charge past him. He felt as though his arms were wrenched from his body as he was drug forward by the creature, yet he held firm his grip, clutching at the thick fur about the beast’s neck. His body slammed against its powerful foreshoulder again and again, and his feet repeatedly banged against the ground, as the Werewolf tried to dislodge this unwanted rider. Suddenly the creature turned to one side, and Perrith was able to use the change in momentum to launch himself onto its back. No time did he waste in grabbing out the long knife at his belt, and plunged it deep into the creature’s neck just below the skull. With a great convulsive jerk Perrith was thrown from the beast’s back, and pain jolted through his body where he struck the ground. Forcing himself up into a standing position he looked at the creature where it stood several feet away, leaping about madly. It was not a killing blow for such a creature, yet it had wounded it badly. After a moment it seemed to recover a little, and then leapt away into the darkness.
Perrith looked around, he was at least a furlong from the light of the watch fires, and he could see there the shapes of men silouetted by the flames, and he saw also the forms of Werewolves as they raced off into the darkness. There was a slight pain in his right knee, and he made his way as quickly as he could back towards the camp. Once there he learned that other than himself and Captain Riland, only five of their original two score were still standing, though there were three others they could not account for, and it was hoped that they also were only momentarily lost in the night. Perrith sat upon the ground heavily to ease his aching knee as he looked about.
“We won,” said Captain Riland as he sat next to Perrith. “If you can call it a victory.”
“We survived,” said Perrith. Then he looked about again, three bodies of the Werewolves lay about the camp, only three had they taken down. Though they must have at least wounded several of the others or they would not have retreated. He glanced towards where the horses had been tied, several of them were now running free, having pulled free of their leads in their panic. Chestnut and a few others were still tied, though they were still rearing up and stamping the ground, their eyes rolling white with the fear from the Werewolf attack.
“It may be advisable to cut this scouting trip short and return to Telenar,” suggested Captain Riland.
“Yes,” began Perrith. “I think you may be right, for they obviously know we are out here, and they will most probably come again. Also our mission is at least partly acomplished, it is obvious they are preparing to invade Telthar. Take a couple of men and round up the horses, we will need them all to get the dead and wounded back to Telenar.”

Geltharin urged Windfoot up the last slope of the hill and then reigned to a halt, while Delphine came up beside him upon Shadow. Their way had been slower once among the hills, yet it was just now their third evening since leaving Telenar, having made good time upon the road, and as they moved cross country towards the Tarnure Hills during those two days. He looked about for a moment, getting his barings, and once he was sure they were where he had thought, he turned to Delphine, “We are less than one hour I think from our destination, it should be just getting full dark when we arrive.”
Delphine nodded, “Yes, we should be able to sleep beneath a roof tonight.”
They moved onward and soon found a small path that wound its way back and forth among the hills. Now they made good time once again, for the path was easy for the horses to navigate, and after just a little while it passed between two hills and into a wide flat space. Beyond this they could see the land fall again, its slope ending at the very shore of the Inland Sea. Here, in the higher ground of the hills, yet not far from the Sea, was one of the settlments of those men who called themselves the Tuathe, which in their tongue meant simply the People. For many long generations they had dwelt among the Tarnure Hills, and they had the friendship and protection at need of the crown of Telthar, and they respected the authority of the Kings of Telthar, though they and their lands were not claimed by Telthar as subjects. Their Chieftains and Captains were not only men of great valour, but also learned in ancient lore. They were tall men, grim and silent, yet when they would break that silence they were friendly, and from time to time could tell tales that even the bards had forgotten. The long lost sons of ancient Kings and Lords they were, decended from the people of the once High Kingdom of Arlure, and they alone dared go near the ancient ruins of the city of Minture, once the capital of that mighty Kingdom in the days of the Grand Alliance. At times they could be found wondering the lands in small numbers, and if ever they came across the servants of evil they would warn local inhabitants to be on their guard, or if they had sufficient numbers they would slay them or drive them off, for they still held true to the ancient alliance, and fought still against the forces of Astoth, the Dark Lord.
Geltharin and Delphine looked upon the now chared remains of the Tuathe settlement, and they were both silent for several long moments. Finally they both dismounted and began examining the remains of the buildings. “I see no bodies,” said Geltharin. “There is hope that all or most escaped, yet where to I am not sure.”
“We know for certain only that they did not make for Telenar, for this is several days old and they would have been there by the time we set out,” Delphine added after a moment. “Or, if they did head towards Telenar, they were overtaken upon the way.”
Geltharin glanced around the settlement, “Well, it is going to be too dark to continue on soon, we should see if we can start a fire and then try to rest. Tomorrow I think we should head west along the shoreline, a few leagues in that direction is another, smaller settlement. Though there is an even chance we will find the same there,” he added the last as he stooped to pick something up off of the ground. In his right hand held up a tattered standard, and upon it was the symble of a ring of fire on a black field. “Have you seen this standard before?” he asked Delphine as he walked towards her, his voice was low now.
She looked and when she saw the emblym upon it she nodded slowly, “I have, once in a mural of the elden days.”
“I have heard it described many times,” he said after a moment, his eyes still locked upon the standard in his hand. “If we find no one at the other settlement in the morning, I think we should set out for Telenar as quickly as possible, Rendal will be interested to see this.” And with that he folded it up and stowed it in a pouch upon his belt.
“Yes,” Delphine said, her voice hollow. “I think he will be most interested in it indeed.”
The night passed without incident, and the next morning they rode westward quickly along the shore, and after going about five leagues, they found another burnt out settlement, the only difference being that at this one they found the body of a man who had been cruely hewn. They remained only long enough to wrap the body of the dead man in one of their extra blankets, and after saying a quick prayer to Veagouse for the unknown man’s spirit, they piled a crude cairn above it with the many rocks that lay about the water side.
The rest of that day they pressed their horses more than they normally would, for their need of speed was great, and before nightfall they had left the Tarnure Hills far behind, and camped upon the open fields of Telthar. The next two days they pressed onward, and in the evening hours of the third day from their leaving the Tuathe settlment, they returned to the city. Once they had been admitted at the south gates, they continued onward, and not until they reached the Keep itself did they dismount. Grooms came forward and took the reigns of the horses, for they remember them from the few days earlier. They spoke with one of the guards, and within moments they had a guide to lead them through the ways of the Keep to where the King was in council with his advisors.
“You have returned sooner than expected,” said King Arenth as they entered the chamber, which was large and had many maps spread about on tables, and a fire burned in a large hearth at one end.
“Is Rendal present?” asked Geltharin even as the King had finished speaking.
“No, he left this morning, saying he would return within two days at the most,” responded Arenth. “Have you news from the Tuathe?” he asked.
“We found two of their settlements destroyed,” Geltharin said quickly. “And also we found something else, yet I think it might not be for all eyes to see.”
“Leave us,” the King said to the two captains that stood nearby, and nodded to a servant in the room to depart with them also. After a moment the three stood alone in the chamber. “What have you discovered?”
Without speaking Geltharin reached to the pouch upon his belt and pulled out the tatered standard that he had tucked away into it two days earlier at the Tuathe settlement. Holding it up in the light of the fire, the standard could be clearly seen, the ring of fire the only symble on its black cloth, and all three of them were silent, for Arneth also reconized that standard, for it had been described in many tales of the elden days, though it had not been born by any upon the mortal plane for years beyond count. Not even Gralathore had dared raise that standard, for there upon that black cloth, was the emblym that had been born by only those under the command of the greatest of Astoth’s servants, the High Captain of Antarr, Balimere, who was second in command only to the Dark Lord himself.

Rendal had riden quickly that day, and by the even his horse, Ailous, had born him to the head of the pass that led to the region of Telthar known as Calnath. There he paused, and dismounted to let the horse rest for a few moments. After a moment the grayish form of Quaith landed not far in the path, and folding his wings walked over to where Rendal now stood, shading his eyes with his aged hand, looking back over the lands he had just riden through.
“It is about time we took a break,” said Quaith a little grumpy. “I can not fly for ever you know.”
Rendal turned and smiled down at the Gargoyle, “I am sorry my friend, but I feel that we do not have time to dawdle, and I did say you could wait for me in Telenar if you had wanted to.”
“Dawdle?” the Gargoyle said with exagerated annoyance. “No, I will not sit and wait around while you are out here maybe getting your fool old head bashed in. Besides, I think I make the people there nervous for some reason.”
Rendal chuckled to himself quietly as he turned again to look out over the lands below. “I do not like that,” he said after a moment. There, far away to the north, loomed what appeared to be a wall of dark clouds, yet it did not move in the direction of the wind, rather it moved slowly southward, spreading over the fields of Telthar from the north.
“That does not look like a storm to me,” said Quaith.
“No, that is because it is no natural weather of the this world,” Rendal said mater of factly.
They watched it together for several moments, and just as Quaith was about to ask the Wizard what he thought it was, there was a sudden flash of bright light off in the distance, like a great fork of lightening, yet it stabbed upward from the ground, rather than down from the clouds, it stood there for a moment or two as they watched, and it seemed to pulse. Then it was gone, yet over the land they heard a great rolling boom, as of a great explosion. Quaith looked up at Rendal. “That was strange indeed,” said Quaith, yet when he looked up at Rendal what ever else he was going to say died upon his lips. “What is it?” he asked instead.
Rendal’s face had gone deathly white, and it seemed to Quaith that he suddenly leaned heavier upon the staff in his hand. “We must get back to Telenar and quickly,” he said, and leapt upon Ailous’ back once again.
“But I thought you were going to ask...”
The Wizard cut him off, “There is no time now, the storm is coming, and we are needed before it strikes!” And with that he rode away like the wind, speeding back down the road he had just come up, and Quaith quickly leapt up and took flight to follow as fast as he could.

It was morning when Rendal arrived once again at the city of Telenar, and there he learned of the destruction of the Tuathe settlements, and he had sat for several long moments in silent thought when he saw the standard that had been found there. Also Perrith had returned in the middle of the night with what was left of his company, and he told of the Werewolves that attacked them. At length Rendal sighed, “Orcs coming forth in strength and attacking the Tuathe, Werewolves and Draugnir coming out of the shadows, and the Sundeath standard raised again. I fear what these things may portend, and what is more I fear what the darkness that is coming from the north may mean also, and the signal that Quaith and I saw from the pass. Only one of the Darkoverlords ever dared to fly that standard, and that lightening flash was also the signal used by that same Darkoverlord when he would ride forth to war.”
“Yet Balimere was imprisoned with the Dark Lord,” said Geltharin. “Or so you have always told me.”
“Yes, so I thought,” Rendal said and then began rumaging through his cloak. “I need smoke,” he muttered to himself, and after a moment produced a long wooden pipe out of one pocket and a pouch of tabac out of another. Within moments he was wreathed in a cloud of smoke as he puffed thoughtfully upon the pipe.
“There is the prophacey that the Tuathe speak of,” said Delphine from where she had sat quietly at the wooden table they were all gathered around.
Geltharin looked at Delphine with a puzzled expression, “What prophecy do you speak of my love?”
Before Delphine could answer they became aware of Rendal chanting, a few verses of Elvish he spoke, and then fell silent again. “Yes, you may be correct dear girl, I had nearly forgetten it, but you have brought it back to my mind.” His voice was quiet as he spoke. “The prophecy of which Delphine speaks is the words of Mareath the Seer. A female mage who lived long ago and was accounted one of the greatest propheciers ever to come from mortal race. She dwelt for many long years with the Druids, yet when she felt that death would at last take her, she made one last journey into the northlands with only a few companions, all save one of which have now passed from the mortal world to join her. To the foothills of the Iron Mountains she led, and there, not far from the western gates of the once great Dwarven city of Hirren-Carren, she spoke the prophecy of which Delphine speaks, and then she made it known that she wished to be laid to rest upon that very spot, and extracted the promise that the words she had spoken would be engraved upon a stone marker there. With her she had carried a small silver case, and though she would not say what was in it, she said that it should lay there, burried in the earth at the foot of the marker, to safely await the time in which it would be needed. And that was the last she spoke, for she died in that very hour. Her wishes were carried out, though they were not completely understood at the time.” He took a long pull on his pipe before continuing. “Thus spoke Mareath;
‘Again the Great Evil stretches out its dark hand,
War spreads and ravages the land.
Forth shall the Black Captain stand,
Darkness will he bring to the northland.
Seek for he which weilds the Sword of the North,
In the dark hour shall he come forth.
Now is the time for the Ax to be found,
And the Horn of Doom shall sound.
Son’s of Arlure of thine arms there is need,
Son’s of Darek remember the Creed.
The Horns of Fionna shall sound on the coasts,
Forth shall stand the Elven hosts.”

He paused again for a moment, “For many years I tried to unravel the full meaning of these words, yet only parts of it have had meaning to me, yet now more of it makes sense at last.”
“So, you are this companion that still lives?” asked Arenth.
“Yes,” said the Wizard. “It has been many long years since Mareath passed away, and for the last few years I have been busy with various maters and the words of the prophecy had not come to my mind in a long time.”
“So what do you think it means?” asked Geltharin. “Or at least, those parts that you said you understand.”
“The Great Evil has always been a name for Astoth, the Dark Lord, so that part may go without much thought,” Rendal removed his pipe from his mouth while he spoke, his voice taking on that old familiar tone of a teacher. “The Sword of the North, I presume means the ancient sword of the Kings of Arlure, and the Ax, I believe to be the Black Ax which was crafted by the Dwarves during thier first wars with the Dark Lord. The Creed that it speaks of would seem to be the ancient Creed taken by Darek long ago, one of the greatest of the forefathers of the Dwarven race. The Horns of Fionna is self evident I think, and refers to a return of the Solosimi to the mainland in force to presumably take up the long fight against the Dark Lord once again.”
“So do you think that ‘The Black Captain’ is...” Geltharin began.
“I do not know for certain yet,” Rendal interupted. “Though it would at least point to one of the great of Astoth’s followers, and this darkness that is coming would fit also, though it may of course all be coincidence, for Gralathore brought a similar darkness to this land during our last war with him.”
“What is the Horn of Doom?” asked Perrith. “I have never heard tell of that in any tale that I know, at least not by that name.”
“Oh, I have no idea what that is,” said Rendal as he began to puff on his pipe again.
“And what was it that Mareath carried with her to be burried at her resting place?” asked Geltharin.
“I told you,” Rendal began. “She would not say, so we respected her wishes and burried it at the foot of the marker without looking at the contents.” He stood and walked over to where the fire burned on the heart, and crouching down began tapping the remnants out of his pipe. “I have wondered ever since what was in that case, and more than once I have considered going back there and finding out, yet my heart always told me that it was not yet time, and that in its proper time it would be revealed. Who knows, perhaps it is this Horn of Doom she spoke of. Or perhaps it is something else entirely.” He stood and walked back to his seat at the table. “I do think however that it is now time to unearth the case, and that whatever is in it, it might shed some light on the riddle of the prophecy.”
“So when do we set out?” asked Quaith from where he was lounging on the floor near to the hearth, for the chairs in the room were not built for creatures with wings to be comfortable in.
“We do not,” Rendal said. “Or at least, I do not. Who ever goes will be out of contact with us for several days, and that is if they do not end up going very far out of the way to get there and to return, which is very likely with an army of Orcs between here and there. For myself, I feel that my place, at least at this time, is here, waiting whatever is to come, which is likely to be an all out invasion, being led, or driven forward, by some powerful captain. And since it shall be a dangerous journey, I suggest that volunteers must be asked for to make it.”
All in the room were silent for a moment, as the thought of making a journey through lands patrolled by packs of werewolves, and possibly Draugnir, ran through their minds. At last King Arenth spoke. “Volunteers indeed, for who could ask someone to make such a journey, through lands that seem to be held by the enemy, to retrive a mysterious object which we do not even know what it is or does? I would go myself, since you deem this important, yet I can not leave my Kingdom when there is the threat of an assault.”
“I will go,” said Geltharin. Perrith opened his mouth to speak, but Geltharin raised his hand to forestall him. “You will be needed here also Perrith, at the King’s side. For myself, I am but one sword, and I have traveled the lands about the Iron Mountains before, and know the terrain well enough. Also I have been known to be able to avoid being seen in the wilds when I wish.”
“As can I,” said Delphine. “If that is decided, then I suggest we set out as soon as may be.”
Geltharin looked at her for a moment, weighing in his mind what her reaction might be if he tried to convince her to remain behind, then he imediately discarded the thought, as he knew she kept the blade of her sword sharp. “Very well,” he said instead. “We shall go together.”
“I will have Perrith ask for a few volunteers to go with you from my guardsmen,” said Arenth.
“Nay,” said Geltharin. “It will be easier for Delphine and I to make ourselves scarce in the wild lands between here and there alone I think. We both know the lands well, and are both adept at such inconspicuous traveling.”
“Yes,” Rendal put in suddenly. “A small party is better, yet I think it a good idea to take someone else with you, at least one other, two perhaps, yet more than that might be too many.”
“So be it,” said Arenth with a sigh. “Sir Perrith, for one or two volunteers to go with them, perhaps two of my Huntsmen, they are also good at moving unseen at need.”

It was late afternoon when Delphine and Geltharin were ready to, once again, set out from Telenar, yet the sun had fallen into the darkness that had moved apace from the north, and now the entire city was under a heavy gloom. As they were checking things one more time at the north gate, they heard the rumor of the evacuation that was already in progress, for the King had ordered that the women and children, and any that could not fight, be removed to the refuges in the mountains. There had been hard words said when the order was first annouced, for some of the people of the city had only returned to their homes a month or so earlier from the previous evacuation. Yet in the end they dealt with it well, and soon things were proceeding in an orderly fashion.
Gelthairn became aware of two men approaching them, they were both tall and slender of frame, and both had the dark hair that was common in Telthar. They were clad in greens and browns such as was worn by hunters that would blend in well with the countryside, over this they wore cloaks of the same colouring, they both carried small hunting bows and quivors of arrows, and at their sides were long swords. When they came close enough for him to see their faces clearly, Geltharin saw eyes of light gray in one of them, which he recognized at once. Bowing he said, “Your Majesty.”
“There is no need for such formalities,” said the man with a smile. He was perhaps four years younger than Geltharin yet he had already proven himself in battle time and again during the war with Gralathore. Prince Danner then turned to Delphine and nodded his head. “It is good to see the both of you again my friends. Forgive me for not having attended the council earlier this day, but I had just arrived back from a journey to Menthur on business for Father, and I believe he did not wish to disturb my rest. Once I learned of what had been said at that council from Perrith, I asked to be included in this task.”
“Should you not remain here though?” asked Geltharin.
“Well, to be honest I had expected that it would be difficult for me to convince Father to allow me to go, yet he must think it is safer than staying here. I think he fears that Telenar will have fallen before you can return, and wishes me to not be here, though of course he will not say so.” He then turned and indicated the man at his side. “This is Dreavon, one of the most skilled woodsmen in all of the Kingdom.” The man bowed his head when the Prince introduced him.
Rendal came walking up to the four just then, “I know you can all take care of yourselves quite well, yet please do be careful.” Then he handed a small clear crystal to each of the four them. “Those cloaks that Brighid gave the two of you are very special and will help to hide you from unfriendly eyes,” he said quietly to Geltharin and Delphine, “yet these may come in handy also. Keep them close to you at all times, for they will help to shield you from other things that do not need to see you with eyes.”
Geltharin looked at him for a moment, and was about to ask how he had known where the cloaks had come from, and how he knew Brighid, but the look on Rendal’s face told him that it should wait for another time. “Thank you Rendal,” he said instead. “And you be careful also. Quaith, I am expecting you to keep an eye on him for me,” he said to the Gargoyle who was standing a few feet away. And with that, the four mounted their horses, and at a nod from Danner, they set out through the north gate of Telenar and passing over the fields they melted into the darkness and out of sight.

They journeyed for four days under the unnatural darkness, crossing through the hill lands near to the Inland Sea at first, and then they cautiously crossed the open spaces between the Sea and the foothills at the southern end of the range of the Iron Mountains. Once there they found a sheltered valley that looked southward from the mountains, and after some debate, it was decided that Delphine and Geltharin would proceed alone, and on foot, westward through the hills, for the way would be to difficult for the horses. Danner and Dreavin would await their return there. “It should take us two or three days travel each way, another day or so to search for the marker,” Geltharin said to Danner when they were preparing to set out. “We should return before ten days have passed, if we have not returned in a fortnight we will most likely not. In which case you should make an attempt also I think to find the marker and recover what ever is in this silver case.”
Danner nodded, and then he saluted them both, his hand clenched over his heart. “Good fortune to you both.”
The two journeyed slowly among the higher reaches of the foothills as high as they dared go, as they made their weary way through the pathless hills all that day, and the next.
Delphine stood atop a high crag among the hills, peering out with her elven eyes, trying to pierce the murk and see some sign of how much further they had to go. At last she climbed back down to where Geltharin waited below, and as she approached he handed her a water skin. “I saw what I think is one of the ancient ruins of the dwarves about a league to the north and west of where we are. I think we are coming into their kingdom as it was of old.”
Geltharin nodded as he chewed thoughtfully upon one of the break like cakes that Brighid had supplied them with, what seemed like so long ago now. “In that case we should arrive at the old west gate by sometime tomorrow I would guess, even with the difficult terrain. Even adding a couple of days for searching out the grave marker, we should have more than enough supplies to get us back to where Danner and Dreavin wait with the horses, and then we can together return to Telenar.”
“That is if Telenar still stands when we arrive there,” Delphine said.
“True, if not we will head towards Menthur, for they would at least know where the King stands, and Rendal will most likely be with the King.”
Delphine took out a cake also, and sitting down upon a rock began to eat. After a moment she hissed to Geltharin quietly, “There is someone out there, over to my right I believe, behind that rock outcropping watching us.”
Geltharin made no sign that she had spoke, and sitting up stretched his arms, letting his hand fall upon the hilt of his sword and wrapping his fingers about it. Delphine’s hand had already crept down to one of the throwing knives at her belt, yet she made no other sign. Geltharin glanced about as if looking for something, and then stood. “I must relieve myself,” he said, and with a knowing look Delphine nodded as he turned and began walking towards the rocks that she had mentioned. As he approached them Geltharin quickly moved to one side, his sword sweeping out as he moved past the edge of the rocks. Behind him Delphine sprang into action as soon as he had made his move, her own sword now in hand as she followed after him. Yet before she could reach the rocks he stepped back, lifitng something up with both hands before him. “Well, well my little friend, what are you doing all the way out here?”
Delphine stopped when she saw what he held, for there in his grip was a small creature, only about one span in height, its face looked like a cross between a fox and man, and what seemed to be a soft fur covered its head and its ears stuck out like the ears of a fox atop its head. It strugled in Geltharin’s grips, “Let me go, please let me go!” He cried. “I was not trying to spy on you, I was afraid you were Orcs, and I was trying to hide until you left.”
Geltharin looked at the small Knobbin before him, and then set him down upon his little furry feet. “Well, as you can see now, we are not Orcs. Now what are you doing out here? This is a good way from your homeland.”
“Please do not hurt me,” the little fellow pleaded. “I am only a scout.”
“A scout?” asked Delphine as she stepped up beside Geltharin. “A scout for who?”
“For me,” said a deep voice behind them. “Do not turn around or make any sudden moves, you are at the point of a crossbow and I will shoot if you try anything funny.”
“Kalgar, they are not Orcs,” the little Knobbin said suddenly. “Please do not hurt them.”
“I can see they are not Orcs Falcar,” said Kalgar. “What I want to know is who they are and what they are doing here before I will let down my guard.”
“Just questions with things as they are in these days,” said Geltharin. “I am named Geltharin, and with me is my wife, Delphine. We are on a journey of some importance, and we mean you no harm, and we mean no harm to anyone that fights the Great Enemy.”
Kalgar grunted. “Very well, turn around and let me see your faces.”
They both turned slowly, and not four yards away stood a dwarf, a metal crossbow in hand, and at his side a battle ax leaned against a stone. He wore a long shirt of black chain mail, upon his head was a black iron helm, and on his feet were tall black boots, and a dark brown beard hung down his chest in two neat braids. “So, you are a man,” he said looking at Geltharin. “And an elf woman,” he added looking at Delphine’s eyes. He lowered the cross bow. “I have no fear that you are working for the enemy, for never have I seen his servants wearing elven cloaks,” he said with a slight chuckle. “What journey is it that brings you here? Or are you perhaps lost as we are?”
“We are not lost,” said Geltharin. “We are on a journey that it may be well not to speak about in the open, as it regards the currect situation the northlands find themselves in.”
The Dwarf nodded slowly. “I will take you at your word, at least for now.”
“May we ask what brings you here?” asked Delphine. “You are lost you say?”
“Well, we are lost now, yes,” Kalgar began. “We are all that is left of a doomed expedition. Two hundred dwarves I led north, with five Knobbins who consented to act as scouts for us, as they find it easy to make themselves scarce at need. We had come north from our home near Faxion, to investigate the rumors of Orcs gathering in this region. We found them two nights ago out on the plains, or rather they found us. We were worsted, for their numbers are great, and with them were some flying creatures, the likes of which I have never seen before. Where ever they went our warriors were quickly slaughtered. Falcar and I were able to escape, though how I am still not sure, and we fled into these hills to try and lose the pursuit, which we did, but we lost our way also.”
“I can tell you that where we stand now is just a little south of the borders of Hirren-Carren on the west of the mountains, as it stood in the days of its power,” Geltharin said to the Dwarf.
The Dwarf stroked one of the long braids of his beard for a moment. “Perhaps you could point us to a path that leads out to the plains east of the mountains?” he asked after a moment. “Returning to where we entered the hills is not a problem for me, but I think we would only find the plains west of the mountains swarming with Orc patrolls. But wait, where are my manors? I am Kalgar, son of Kalthar of the people of Darek,” he said now bowing to them in proper dwarf fasion. “And my companion is Falcar Tralforth, a Knobbin of impeccable character and great valour at need.”
“Valour?” said Falcar with a laugh. “Well, as you say, at need perhaps, but do not look for me to go running in where others fear to tread, that is your job.”
Delphine smiled down at the little Knobbin, “I have known one or two of your kind before, and I have found that usually a Knobbin’s deep courage at need is greater than their size, and at times braver than some of the stoutest warriors I have known.” Even as she finished speaking a long shuddering howl sounded from away to the south. Delphine and Geltharin turned, their swords in hand, Kalgar gripped his battle axe, letting the cross bow swing at his side on a leather thong, and Falcar peeked out from where he had hidden behind Delphine.
“Werewolves,” said Geltharin quietly. “We should move a quickly.” Just then another howl sounded, this time from the east. “It may not be wise for you to try and go east either Kalgar,” he said, and he frowned as he thought of Danner and Dreavin, away to the east. Hopefully they would avoid detection from the beasts.
“You may be right,” said Kalgar. “Where is it the two of you are headed in these lands? There is nothing about for leagues and leagues.”
“There is a place that we are making for,” said Delphine. “Not far from the old west gates of Hirren-Carren.” Another howl sounded, from the west this time. “It would appear they have us boxed in a bit.”
“This way then,” Gelthairn turned to Kalgar as he spoke. “Perhaps it is best if the four of us remain together, for now at least. With Werewolves roaming the hills our situation has become even more dangerous than it was to begin with.”
The Dwarf looked at Falcar, and both of them nodded. “Lead on,” Kalgar said.
The four moved northward out of the area they had been gathered in, which was really no more than a hole among the rocks. Soon they climbed up a long slope of rock, and their footing was dangerous, as scree was spread here and there about the stone hillside. At last they reached the top of it, and then climbed back down among the rocks on the far side. It was a wearying way, and Falcar had to scramble to keep up with his larger companions.
Far into the night they went, not daring to stop out of fear that the roving packs would find them, though at last, just before the mid of night, Geltharin called a short halt. “We should rest at least for a while,” he said simply, and sat himself on a nearby rock. “We have come a far way though, and I think we are near now to the old west gates,” he added after a moment and a sip of water.
“Where did Rendal say this marker is exactly?” asked Delphine quietly. Kalgar though seemed to have heard her, for he looked at them when she mentioned Rendal’s name.
“Do you speak of the Wizard Rendal?” he asked. “Who my people name Reiseveis?”
“Yes,” answered Geltharin. “You know of him?”
“He has been among us and given my Father wise council many times,” Kalgar said. “My Father even named him a Holvarte, which I believe you would translate as Warden of the Hold. It is a high honour among our people, and he is, as far as I know, the only one of alien race to ever be named such.”
“I am a friend of Rendal’s,” Geltharin said. “And it is he who asked us to make this journey, for he could not. Such is the way of things at times, those of us with small hands do the things that turn the wheels of the world, when the eyes of the great must be turned eleswhere.”
Kalgar chuckled. “You have indeed spoken with Rendal, for you have picked up his manor of speaking. If you are indeed acting on his behest, I shall aid you in whatever way I can,” the Dwarf said as he stood and then bowed low to them again. “Kalgar the Dwarf, at your service.”
“Thank you Kalgar,” Geltharin said as he stood and bowed in return. “And we are at your service and your families,” he said knowing the proper reply to such Dwarvish formailities. He then sat himself again and turned to Delphine. “To answer your question my love,” he began. “Rendal described the marker as being in a small grotto, just south of the gate, and he said that from the mouth of the grotto, one could look out over the valley and road that lead to the gate. He also said that there was the remains of an ancient watch tower, which the Dwarves built of old, that stood just west of the entrence to the grotto. So we need first find the valley in which the gates open, and then begin searching the southern wall of the valley, though from what he said, the tower should be easy to spot from anywhere in the valley.”
They ate a little, and then took turns resting, while two would stand at watch. Those who were resting though, tossed and turned, and did little but doze. At last, perhaps an hour before daylight, Geltharin roused them and they set out once again. Though they had heard and seen no further sign of Werewolves or any other servants of the enemy, they knew that it was still not safe for them to remain in one place for too long of a time.
The sun had just climbed over the mountains, when they crested a rocky rise in the land, where an old path had once been. From there they could see that they had indeed found the valley of the west gate of Hirren-Carren. Quickly Geltharin led the way down the old path as it wound its way into the valley. Before them stretched the wide valley of the dwarves, trees and shrubs clad its slopes, and in the center of the valley ran a small stream, and beside it on either side was a wide expanse of turf, green with springy grass. Once at the bottom of the slope, the path forked, one way going to their right, to wind its way along a green slope, and up to a wide stone shelf, above which a flat wall of stone rose at least a league upward. From this shelf fell a small water fall, which was the beginning of the stream in the valley. The other path, which ran off to their left, went nearly straight through the valley, bending slightly at one point to come near to the stream. This they followed for a few moments, till they came to where it came close to the stream. From there they could see the entire valley, and the rocky hills that rose up north and south, and not far from where they stood, another path broke away towards the south, and it wound among the rocks as they folowed its course with their eyes, to end at last in what looked like a small set of stone stairs, at the top of which appeared to be a small flat area, and upon the right side of this, to the west, rose the remains of an ancient stone tower. Tall it had been, for its now broken summit still reached high into the air, and here they guessed was the tower Rendal had spoken of.
They moved forward through the gray light, which was all that filtered in through the murk above, and it did not take them long to come to the stairs that climbed upward. They were wide and deep, and easy to traverse, even for Falcar, and they mounted these to the stone shelf they had seen. Flat it was, and deep and wide, running perhaps a furlong in width, and several yards deep. At the back of it, they saw an opening between two tall stones, and between these they went, and stepped into a stone grotto, where only a few wild flowers grew here and there among the green grass. There, as the rear of the grotto, shadowed by the high stones walls upon either side, a single stone rose out of the center of the grassy floor of the grotto, and it was nearly as high as a tall man, and a yard in width, its surface flat, with several lines of runes engraved upon it.
The air in the grotto was still, and a feeling of reverence had fallen upon them. “It looks like a grave marker,” Kalgar whispered, yet his voice seemed to echo loud in that silent place.
“It is,” said Geltharin as he stepped forward. He stopped just in front of the stone marker, and ran his hand over its surface slowly. “These runes are Elvish, of the type used by the Druids, though the language is High Elven.” After a moment he began speaking slowly, as he read the runes. “Here lies Mareath, daughter of Nireath, High Lady of the Druids.” He scanned the lines of runes below, which reached nearly to the ground. “The rest seems to be the prophecy, if I remember the words correctly. This would indeed seem to be the place.”
Delphine had stepped up next to him, and also scanned the runes for a moment. “I am glad you are able to read it, I recognize the runes, yet they say nothing to me, I never learned the high tongue, though my Aunt tried several times to convince me of the need to.” She smiled with an old memory.
“You do not speak the tongue of your own people?” Kalgar blurted out, his tone a bit shocked.
“I am only half elven, besides which, I do speak Toleri, yet it is much different from the high speech,” Delphine said as she glanced at the Dwarf, her face taking an almost amused look at the perplexed expression that was on Kalgar’s face. For to a Dwarf, not knowing the tonuges of your ancestors, was unthinkable.
“Well, to each their own way I suppose,” he said at last, yet he muttered something unintelligible into his beard.
Geltharin bent down in front of the stone, and cleared some of the grass away. Behind he found a small rune in the center of the stone, just above the ground. “I belive this may mark what are looking for. Rendal did say it was at the foot of the marker.” He set his pack upon the ground, and removed from it a small hand spade with a short wooden handle, and began to dig up the earth just in front of the marker. Just below the ground, he found the remains of an old leather satchel, which seemed to have deteriated with age. Reaching into what remained of the satchel, he found an oblong case, which was about a foot in length, and when he lifted it up they could all see that it was indeed made of the purest silver, and upon its lid runes were set in what Geltharin guessed was true silver, which the elves named star silver.
“So, our mysterious silver case,” said Delphine as she looked at it over his shoulder. “Can you read the runes?” she asked after a moment.
Geltharin looked at them closely, and after a moment he frowned. “These are also Elvish runes, yet the language is no form of elven that I have ever seen.”
Kalgar, who had been standing next to Geltharin bent down and looked at the runes on the lid curiously. “It is not Elvish, it is Dwarvish, of an ancient form also. Let me see,” he paused for a moment, then suddenly his face went white. “Rache,” he breathed, and slowly backed away from the silver case, and it seemed to Geltharin that he was shaking as with fear.
“What is it?” Geltharin asked, curious what could have shaken a Dward of the mountain race so.
“Acording to the runes, in that case lies,” he licked his lips as he spoke. “Sheiksaldhup. The Trump of Doom.”
“You know the name?” asked Geltharin suprised. “Even Rendal did not know what the name refered to. What can you tell us of it?”
“No!” he said with a sudden vehemence. “It is forbidden to speak of it.” He had stopped trembling, and he seemed to have regained control of himself again, yet his right hand was clasped tightly about the handle of his battle axe.
Geltharin looked at the silver case for a moment, thinking of opening it to see what this Horn of Doom, or Trump of Doom as Kalgar called it, was exactly. He ran a finger along the edge of the lid, looking for a latch or catch.
“You need not waste your time looking for a way to open it,” said Kalgar. “It will not open for you.”
“Why not?” asked Geltharin, hoping to coax the Dwarf into sharing what ever he knew of this thing. “And what is it that has you so afraid of this thing?”
The Dwarf sighed. “Very well, I shall tell you what I know, though it is against our laws, yet since this thing is before us, perhaps the time for secrecy is past. The forging of the Trump of Doom is a secret lost in the depths of time, and for long it sat in that case, in the deep treasuries of Hirren-Carren, yet it was removed and handed over to a keeper that was not named, after the Last Great War with the Dark Lord. It was said at that time, that when the horn surfaced again, that it would mean doom was at hand, for the Black Captain would come forth to release the Dark Lord. Also it is told that the sounding of that horn will call forth an army of great power, an army of the dead, and that they shall bring a great doom with them. What doom is refered to I do not know, yet even the mention of this horn will cause the greatest of Dwarven lore masters to fall silent. For long have we guarded the secret of the horn, fearing the day that it would surface again. And now I have lived to see that day.”
Geltharin studied the case while Kalgar spoke. “You said it would not open for me,” he said once the Dwarf had fallen silent. “Why is that?”
“Because the case will only open for one who is female,” he said simply.
“Interesting,” mused Geltharin. “Is it also said why?”
“Not to my knowledge,” said the Dwarf.
Geltharin glanced at Delphine. “Do you wish to do the honors my love?”
Delphine took the silver case in her hand, and studied it for a moment. “I still see no latch or catch of any type,” she said. “I do not see how to open it.” Even as she said the word ‘open’, there was a click, and then the lid opened easily in her hands. Her eyes opened wide when she looked at its contents.
“What is it my love?” Geltharin asked as he looked into the case. There inside that silver case, which was lined with smooth cloth the colour of blood, sat a small horn in the shape of a conch shell, crafted of pure star silver, and on its side was carved a single rune, which they recognised as soon as they saw it, for it was an ancient Elven symble for death.
“Let me see, I want to see it too,” said Falcar as he hoped up and down next to Delphine, not being tall enough to see into the case in her hands.
Kalgar stepped back. “Close it, please,” he said in a trembling voice.
Delphine nodded and closed the lid of the case. As she did so Falcar stopped jumping, and then glanced at the stone marker. “Well,” he began. “If you have what you came here for, can we leave now? This place makes my heart sink, just listen to the wind howl.”
Delphine cocked her head to one side. “That is not the wind,” she hissed after a moment. Just then a loud howl was heard as it echoed among the cliffs and hills about them.
“It is time to be gone,” said Getlharin as he grabbed up his pack and drew his sword, making quickly for the entrence to the grotto. Behind him Delphine followed, stowing the silver case in her pack, and then drew her own sword, Virneka, and behind her came Kalgar and Falcar.
Once they were upon the stone shelf before the grotto once again they looked out over the valley, yet no sign of any enemy could they see. Quickly they made their way back down the short flight of stairs, and started back towards the path they had used to enter the valley. Just as they came to the fork in the path, and were about to take the way they had come, a storm of howls broke out in the hills above them, several seeming to come from further up the path they were about to take, and out on the plains before the main entrence to the valley they heard three or four answering howls.
“Trapped!” said Delphine. “We should return to the grotto quickly, it is more defendeble than out in the open.”
“No wait, I have a better idea,” said Geltharin. “This way.” And with that he hurried along the other path, which led up the long grassy slope, to the stone shelf at the head of the valley.
Once upon the shelf they found that it was not much deeper than the shelf before the grotto, yet it was at least a league in width, and above it the flat wall of stone streched from side to side. The road ran straight to the wall and seemed to end right there.
“Now what?” asked Delphine.
“Kalgar,” Geltharin said. “Do I guess rightly that you know the words that will open the gate?”
The Dwarf nodded. “None have entered Hirren-Carren for generations beyond count though, and it is doubted weather the magic that works the gates still works or not.”
“There is but one way to find out,” said Geltharin.
“Be quick!” said Delphine. “We have company.” She pointed with her sword out into the valley, and there they could all see what looked like the shapes of great wolves hutling across the valley. Suddenly another cry went up into the air, and out beyond the werewolves came marching figures in armor with swords and spears. “Orcs,” said Delphine.
Kalgar turned towards the flat space where the road had eneded, and slipping his axe into the carrying thong at his waist, he placed the palms of both of his hands upon the stone surface. He then muttered a few words under his breath, and slowly, starting from his hands, a single line began to spread upward and downward. When the upward line had reached a height further than Geltharin could reach, it split into two, and curved to the right and left, and then down to end at the ground. Kalgar stepped back, his eyes shining in the now gathering dark, as night was drawing on under the shadows of the unearthly gloom. The lines seemed to shine, as though they were wrought of star silver, and the shape they had made was that of door great doors, a straight line splitting them down the middle. There, in the center of the two doors, symbols began to appear, first two great battle axes, crossed just below the heads, and under this was a large star, and it shone as if it was wrought of moonlight. “The signs of the Kings of Hirren-Carren,” breathed Kalgar, and he seemed messmerized for a moment.
“Kalgar, the opening words, quickly!” called Geltharin from where he and Delphine now stood where the path came to the edge of the shelf, ready to stand against the attack if need be.
Kalgar started, and then he cried out in his deep voice “Gehe!” And imediately the emblyms in the center of the doors winked out, as if they had never been there, but the lines that formed the edges of the door flashed brightly for just a second. Then, with a loud grinding sound, as of stone rubbing against stone, the doors split down the middle, and swung open to the sides, revealing a gapping, black entrence behind.
“Quickly!” cried Geltharin. “Into the caves!”
Forward they all hurried, for even now the werewolves were charging up the slope, and their howls had grown into a ferocious noise. Threw the doors they raced and into the darkness beyond. Once Falcar, who was the last of them, had passed within, Kalgar turned to face outward from the darkness within, and again he cried out, “Zummak!” Slowly the doors swung shut again, until at last, just as the werewolves had reached the stone shelf and were charging across it, they slammed closed with a great crash.
The place they were in was wholly dark, and they could not even see each other, or the walls or floor, or anything else, and the air was stifling. Suddenly there was a bright flash of light that went out again just as quickly, and a scrapping noise accompanied it. Falcar screeched at this, for he had not yet recovered from the fear of the werewolves outside.
“Relax Falcar,” came Geltharin’s voice from not far away. “It is only flint.” And with that he struck the flint again, and then again, finally getting a spark to catch in the small bit of tinder he had set out before him. The tiny flame seemed like a bright light in that dark place, and after a moment they were able to see each other, or at least shadows that they knew to be each other. Delphine handed Gelthairn a torch, which she had found by feeling along the wall, and he lit it from the flame before him. He stood, holding the torch above him to cast a little light into the place about them, and then turned his attention to stomping out the small fire he had started.
As they looked about they became aware of a scrapping noise coming from the doors that they had come through, the werewolves and Orcs were probably scratching and hacking at the stone wall trying to get in. “They are coming after us,” said Falcar, his voice coming in a fluster.
“Do not worry Falcar,” Kalgar said. “While the doors are closed no force can move or break them, not without the opening words.”
“Nothing can push them inward at any rate,” said Geltharin. “We can however open them with a simple thrust from inside, if we would wish to do so.”
“That is not told in our lore,” said Kalgar with a frown. “How do you know that?”
“Because I have done it once,” said Geltharin, and with that he began looking about the space they were in a bit more closely. “This is the way,” he said motioning to one of three archways that were in the wall opposite the outside gates.
“You have been inside before?” asked Kalgar and Delphine at the same time.
“Yes,” Geltharin answered. “And the experiece was a grim one, one that I had wished never to repeat. Yet here we are. It will take us at least four days to get through to the east gate, that is if I remember the way correctly, and we do not encounter any unforseen troubles. Therefore I suggest we move onward at once, for I think I remember a good place to rest that is out of the main corridor, and then we can eat and sleep for a while.”
For the next six hours or more they followed Geltharin as he moved through the corridors of the once great dwarven stronghold, the torch held up above his head. Behind him came Delphine, another torch in her hand, and then Falcar, followed by Kalgar. Finally Geltharin stopped, and held up a hand to motion the others to halt as well. “This is it, I think,” he whispered over his shoulder as he drew his sword, and then slowly pushed open a small stone door on the left hand side of the passage. Slowly he stepped beyond the door, his torch lighting the small room that was beyond it. “Yes, we are where I thought we were,” he said then, and slid his sword back into its sheath. “I think we can rest for a time here in relative saftey.”
Falcar hurried into the room behind him, glad to have a place to rest out of the way, and behind him Kalgar stepped in also. Then he turned and looked out into the corridor where Delphine still stood, her eyes staring ahead into the darkness before her. “Lady Delphine, what is it?” the Dwarf asked.
She shook herself a little and then stepped into the room also. “Nothing,” she said quietly.
She came over and sat next to where Geltharin was crouched upon the floor, sipping from his water skin. After a moment he leaned in close to Delphine. “You feel it too?” he asked her in a whisper.
She nodded slowly. “I do not know what, but there is something in these caverns that is worse than Orcs.”
“Let us hope that it does not notice our presence,” he said quietly.
For the next few hours they rested, two sleeping at a turn, while the other two would sit and watch and listen in the darkness. Nothing did they hear or see, yet Geltharin and Delphine continued to sense some presence somewhere in the caverns. At last they moved on, and as they went forward they became aware that the corridor they were now following was steadily descending further into the earth, and soon the air began to grow hot. After a few hours of going on like this, they came to a place where the ceiling leapt suddenly high above, and ahead of them they saw two archways leading forward, one heading upward, the other continuing downward on a steady slope. Here Geltharin paused for a moment, and looked first at one archway and then at the other as he thought for a moment. “I believe it is the upward way.” He began to lead the way through the left hand passage, yet Kalgar called out softly to stop when he came near to the archway.
“What is it?” asked Delphine as she and Geltharin both turned towards the Dwarf.
Out of a small nich carved into the stone between the two archways Kalgar removed what looked like some type of lantern, yet its shutters were rounded, and they were closed. “I believe I have found something that will help to light our way.”
“It surely does not have oil in it,” said Falcar. “Does it?”
“Of course it does not,” said Kalgar. “Oil lamps indeed,” said the Dwarf with a disgusted sound to his voice, as he lifted one of the shutters on the lamp. Even as he did so a beam of greenish-yellow light shone out of it. “This is one of the old lamps such as was made in the great days. It does not use fuel, for it does not burn fuel. There is a globe of crystal inside, which contains something that glows with its own light. For years we have tried to recreat them, yet the secret of their making, alas, is lost to us, though it said that the Elves still have this skill, from whom some say we originally learned the art, and others say they learned it from us, yet the truth of such maters I do not know.”
They followed this upward path for a long way, and after a while small openings began to appear upon either side, as other paths joined, and broke off from, the way they were on. Finally the way leveled out and went straight before them, and it widened, growing into a great corridor, the ceiling of which they could barely make out in the light of the torches and the lamp. After following this wide passage for what seemed hours, an archway appeared before them, and threw this Geltharin led, into what appeared to be a wide chamber. Geltharin halted a few feet passed the archway and peered into the shadows for a moment. “Kalgar, can the shutter on that lamp be lifted any more to reveal more light?” he asked turning to the Dwarf.
“Yes,” said the Dwarf as he threw the shutter open wide. The light of the lamp suddenly shone out as if a small star had been released in that dark place, and its illumination showed that they were indeed in a wide open chamber, and here and there great columns stretched up to the high ceiling far above, and in the walls of the chamber they could see at least six more archways leading to other corridors. In the center of the chamber was a slightly raised space, and about it was set a small wall of stone. Walking closer they saw that it had at one time been a great hearth which could be used to heat and light the chamber, and spaced in a circle about it, where many large stone seats.
“I did take the correct way,” Geltharin said. “We are high up now, and in the ceiling of this chamber are several shafts that let in the light during the day. It must be night outside again as they are dark now. I think we should rest here, for we have travelled for more than a full day since we rested last.”
They sat together upon the floor of the chamber, their backs against the stone wall about the hearth, and ate a meal of bread and dried meats. After eating, Kalgar began exploring the chamber a bit further. “This is, I believe, the Hall of Fire, which is mentioned in the ancient stories of Hirren-Carren. Here would the Dwarven young, and others, gather to hear tales and songs, especially upon high days. And it is in this very place in which the Heirs to the Father’s of our race would meet, journeying here once every century to renew the old league of freindship and kinship between all of our kind. Such a gathering has not happened since Hirren-Carren was abandoned.” Then he began to chant quietly in what the others assumed was the Dwarven tonuge. Delphine listened as Kalgar chanted in the darkness of the chamber, for though the language sounded strange to her ears, tough and unyeilding even as the Dwarves themselves, it was also very beautiful, and as she listened she felt that it was a song of the once beautiful and great city of Hirren-Carren, once the rival of even Carren-Lotta, and she felt sad for the loss of such wonder and beauty that she knew in her heart had once been housed here.
When Kalgar fell silent again, the shadows seemed to close in, and to be even deeper than they had before, for the thought of beauty and light that was in their minds. “That was a beautiful ballad Kalgar, and though I do not know the meaning of the words, it still speaks to the soul.”
“Yes,” said Kalgar quietly. “It is a very old song, and I would translate it for you, but I am afraid that it is very hard to render in the common tongue, and there are words in it which the speech of Men and Elves have no words for.”
“I have heard part of it before,” said Geltharin. “Yet that was far from here, and under the light of day in more peaceful times.”
Falcar said nothing, as he was already fast asleep.
They again took turns watching and sleeping, four hours, as near as they could tell, to a watch, and when Geltharin awoke Delphine, she found that the light of day was indeed shining down through great shafts in the ceiling high above. The sight of that light seemed so very bright after so much time in the dark, and all of them blinked when they looked up at them, yet it was also a very comforting sight.
“We have done very well,” said Geltharin as they prepared to move on. “Another day and perhaps half of another, and we should reach the eastern gates.”
Once all were ready, Geltharin led them to the wall opposite from where they had entered the chamber during the night before, and then through one of the two archways that opened there. The corridor beyond was a fairly narrow one, being only perhaps two yards wide, yet the walls and floor were just as smooth as any of the others they had as of yet travelled through. Onward it went for what Kalgar said was about two leagues, and then it began to slope downward again, and after a short ways it passed through another archway and beyone they found themselves standing on a wide shelf, and only a few yards before them the floor ended in a sheer drop off. The chamber they were in was huge, and they could see nothing but the ledge they were on, and the wall behind them, save a narrow stair that ran down from where they were upon the left hand side. Geltharin walked to the head of the stair, and then paused. “Be careful, the stairway has no rail or guide, and it is a long drop off the side. We will not be on them for long, for we only need descend one level if I remember correctly.” And with that he started down the stairs slowly.
Behind him Delphine followed, and then Falcar, who stopped for a moment looked nervously over the side into the drop. “If I were to fall off, I would be falling for a week at least,” and then he started after Delphine, hugging as closely to the wall as he could. Kalgar chuckled at the Knobbin’s comment, and then followed with sure feet.
After descening fifty steps they came to another shelf, and Geltharin led them through the archway there into another similar corridor. This one was not straight, and seemed to curve back on itself at least twice, descending in a rapid slope while they followed it. Finally it ended into another chamber, this one being much smaller than the one they had slept in the night before. They had just sat down to rest for a moment or two before going on, mostly for the sake of Falcar, who’s shorter legs were working twice as hard to keep up with their longer strides, when suddenly they heard a quiet noise. It sounded as if someone was tapping on rock with something. It went on in a rythmic patter for a moment, and then stopped, then it was repeated twice more.
“That was the sound of someone hammering or I am an Elf,” said Kalgar in a whisper.
“Yes,” said Geltharin. “It sounded like some sort of signal. Let us hope it had nothing to do with us. I am afraid we had best be moving on at once.” With that he stood and shouldered his pack, yet even as the others did also there came another sound, louder and more disturbing than the hammering. A loud thudding noise that rang throughout the passages, and after a moment it resolved itself into the sound of marching drums. “Hurry!” Geltharin hissed as he led them through one of the archways.
The passage beyond was wide, and ran straight ahead of them without any bend. The sound of the beating dums urged them on faster, and the floor of the corridor fled swiftly beneath their feet. Ahead they could see daylight as it streamed in through another shaft in the ceiling of a chamber. They passed through a great archway and into a chamber that ran at least thirty yards across and at least the same in width. In each of the other three walls were great archways similar to the one they had just passed through, and within the room they could see that all of the archways were carved with runes. In the center of the chamber was a large stone slab a little over one yard in length, and about a yard in width, and upon its surface stood the statue of a great dwarf, his one hand resting on a battle axe, his other reaching upward above his head, palm turned forward. Kalgar stopped and gasped. “The Archway Chamber,” he said suddenly.
“What?” asked Geltharin.
“This is the Archway Chamber, I thought never to see it in waking life. There lies the tomb of Darek the First.”
“We have no time now,” said Delphine.
“You are correct of course,” said the Dwarf, and bowing his head for just a second in the direction of the tomb and the statue, he began to follow the others across the chamber.
The sound of the drums still sounded, and just as Geltharin was about to pass through the archway upon the east side of the chamber, a blare of brazzen horns sounded in the way beyond. He stopped and glanced out through the archway, and then he grabbed hold of the stone door which stood open in the archway, he pushed it closed, and just as it slammed shut they all could hear the sound as of something beating against it from the other side. Delphine leapt forward and leaned her own weight against the door, for the lock on it was broken and it could not be latched.
“Find something to wedge it or block it!” cried Geltharin as the door shuttered from the pounding on the other side.
Kalgar came over to their side immediately and pulling his long knife from his belt, he wedged it under the door, blocking it closed for at least the moment.
“Orcs,” Geltharin said. “Many of them. There is no way out for us there. We must take one of the other corridors and hope that we can find our way.”
Just then there was another horn blast from down the corridor they had just exited a few moments earlier, and then another from the corridor beyond the north archway. Geltharin and Kalgar each leapt towards one of the archways and heaved the stone doors shut, while Falcar and Delphine together shoved a large stone seat that was in the room against the north door. Geltharin grabbed up two old swords that had been left laying in the corner of the room who knew how long before, and used them to wedge the third door shut.
“There is no sound from this direction as of yet,” Delphine said from where she now stood near to the south archway.
Geltharin crossed over to where she stood and looked through the archway. Beyond there was a stair that plunged away into darkness. “We will have to take this way and hope,” he said. Yet as they were about to go through the archway there came a great crash, and suddenly the eastern door swung open. There in the archway stood a great cave troll, and as it lumbered into the room, another came after it, and behind that came Orcs. The Orcs charged the four, and a fierce battle ensued. Three Orcs fell at once, and two more tripped over the bodies of their commrades, only to feel the bite of their swords and Kalgar’s axe. Even Falcar, his back to the wall, felled an Orc with his long knife, which was like a short sword for one of his stature.
Delphine swung her sword in a great arch and an Orc fell beheaded, while beside her Geltharin was just withdrawing his blade from the chest of another, and Kalgar leapt forward, swinging his double bladed battle axe first one way to cleave the leg from one opponent, and then brought it back and into the chest of another. The rest of the Orcs fell back in fear of these four warriors, yet the two trolls then began to stalk forward. With a cry Kalgar charged one of the Trolls, swinging his axe above his head. The Troll bellowed and raised the great iron war bar in its hands to block the axe, yet Kalgar had planned on that, and even as he came to the Troll he swung the axe to the right, and then brought its blade against the scaly hide under the Trolls left arm with all of his might. Through the scales and thick hide it clove, and the creature bellowed in pain, the war bar falling from its grasp as it fell back from the Dwarf. As the Troll backed away, Kalgar planted his feet and held firm on his axe, the Trolls own strength wrenching it free for him.
Meanwhile Delphine and Geltharin stepped back before the Troll that advanced upon them, moving futher from one another to draw the creature inbetween them. The Troll lunged forward and then swung the iron bar it carried at Geltharin, who ducked under the swing and then moved to one side, while Delphine leapt forward, one of the torches in her hand now, and pushed it into the face of the Troll as it turned towards her. The creature bellowed in fear and took a step back, its great hands coming up before its face. Delphine took advantage of the Troll’s distraction, and with a quick motion her sword plunged into a space between two scales to slice through flesh and tendon near to the creature’s abdomen. It cried out in pain and even as Delphine pulled back on her sword to wrench it free, the monster fell doubled over to roll on the chamber floor.
“Now!” cried Geltharin. “Down the stairs!”
The four raced through the south archway, where Kalgar suddenly stopped and grabbed Delphine’s arm. “Lift me up, I must reach the archway stone, I have an idea.”
Without asking she bent down and let the sturdy Dwarf clamber onto her shoulders, and then lifted. Kalgar reached up the central stone of the archway, and after feeling about it for a moment, he pulled two small things from it, and then cried for them all to run. Quickly Delphine bent down so that he could leap off of her shoulders, and they had all gone down only a few steps when there was a loud rumbling sound, and a few small rocks began to fall form the ceiling above them. Faster they went, nearly falling down the stairs in their hurry, and suddenly the archway gave way, and the ceiling of the stairway for severa feet past the archway collapsed in a great cloud of smoke and small rocks and debress tumbled down the stairs to where the four were now all stopped upon the stairs, staring back at the smoke and rubble shown up by the light of the torch which Geltharin had grabbed up just before they scrambled out of the chamber. They could not hear the drum or any other noise of the Orcs or Trolls behind as the smoke and debress began to settle, the pursuit had been cut off, yet now they had to find another way to eastern gate and the outside world.