“We could foolishly allow ourselves to be cut to ribbons in the night,” said Myrmior savagely. Fire glinted in his dark eyes. He was angered and turned his horse away from the others and rode away after glaring at those around him defiantly.
“He speaks the truth,” sighed Eskevar. “We have underestimated this enemy from the beginning. We will do well not to try doing it twice in one day. Retreat to Askelon is the only cure for our malady, my lords. We will have little enough time to prepare for a siege; let us make best use of it.”
The march back to Askelon was somber and silent. It was dark when the army reached the plain below the castle, and though the moon had not yet risen the ominous Wolf Star was burning brightly, shedding a chill light upon the land. That night the armies of the Dragon King felt the sting of that cold light. All regarded it bleakly and strong men quaked inside with fear, for they knew an evil day had come.
FORTY-FOUR
STEPPING THROUGH the waterfall was like stepping through a glass curtain. At the extreme edge where they entered, the tumbling water did not have the force it did in the center of the falls. Once through, the explorers found stone steps cut into a rock face that inclined away from the vertical plunge of the mountain wall. And though the steps were wet, and slimy with black moss, each was carefully carved, wide and broad so that with care no one need fall.
The steps led up under an overhanging roof of rock to a landing of sorts-a natural bartizan. There Durwin and Inchkeith found Quentin and Toli waiting for them as they came lumbering up the stairs.
“This is the lost mine, the secret of the Ariga!” exclaimed Quentin, his voice sounding hollow in the great mouth of the runnel. “Look!” His left hand pointed ecstatically toward the near wall. In near-total darkness Inchkeith looked and saw strange figures carved in the stone, glowing with a pale golden light. He could not make them out; they appeared to be shapes of letters in some unknown hand. But looking at them made him think of men and mountains and the waterfall churning and rivers and trees and the fullness of the earth.
Durwin stepped to the wall and began tracing the inscriptions which were deeply carved and looked fresh as if the scribe had just laid away his chisel. The lines were straight and well-formed, untouched by weather or age.
Durwin began to read. “These Art The Mines Of The Ariga, Friends Of The Earth And All Living Things.” Durwin turned to the others, smiling. “There seems no doubt but that we have found what we seek. Shall we go further or wait until daylight to bring our provisions and tools up here?”
It was a needless question. The piercing look of bright expectation on Quentin’s face, and Toli’s quiet excitement, were enough to answer. “Very well, we can start at once. But we will need a light first. Someone must go back for the torches, so we may as well bring up all the supplies at once.”
Quentin’s face fell a fraction. “Toli and I will go. You and Inchkeith may stay here, and we will return at once.”
Before Durwin could suggest another plan they were off, dashing down the slippery steps of the falls two at a time. “We may rescue some sleep from this night yet,” laughed Durwin. “It will take them two hours at least to return to camp and bring our things. We may as well rest while we can. I think it will be our last for a long while to come.”
They settled down against the far wall, and Durwin fell asleep almost at once. Inchkeith pulled his coat around him and breathed the cool, musty air of the deep earth which rose up from the mine shaft somewhere away in the blackness beyond. But sleep had abandoned him completely; he was wide awake and could not take his eyes from the wonderful inscription shining softly from the opposite wall. Even though it merely marked the entrance to a mine-such an ordinary thing-Inchkeith thought he had never seen anything so inexplicably beautiful.
A shout brought both men to their feet. Durwin rubbed his eyes. “So soon? So it is! I feel as if I just dozed off. How did they manage so quickly?”
He and Inchkeith hurried, with careful dignity, down the steps to the filmy curtain of water and stepped out into a night fading into a pearly dawn. The quick splash of cold water brought Durwin fully awake. “Brrr! Such a rude awakening!” he sputtered, clambering slowly down the rocks like an animal roused from hibernation.
Quentin was untying bundles from a horse and Toli was leading the other, loaded down with packs and tools. “I should have guessed,” said Durwin. “This night their feet would have wings. Well, let us begin. Our labor is before us.”
Inchkeith only nodded. He had been strangely silent since entering the mine.
In another hour’s time they had carried up all of the provisions and tools they would need. Quentin, with only one useful arm, had carried the most, making more trips than the others, so eager was he to begin the search. He had no idea what lay in the depths of the mines below, but it greatly heartened him to be once more where the Ariga had been and to see again the works of their long-vanished hands. Being here, his thoughts turned toward Dekra.
They piled all the baggage in the mouth of the mine and began dividing up the packs they would each carry. Inchkeith insisted on carrying his fair share, despite his deformity. Durwin allowed that he would need his strength to forge the sword and should therefore conserve his energy while he could-the way would be difficult enough. But Inchkeith would have none of it. In the end he gathered up his various implements saying, “I carry my own tools, at least. No one touches this master’s tools but the master himself.” The anvil, bellows and heavier items belonging to the forge were left behind at the mine’s entrance. The party was finally ready.
“Now, one thing more and we will begin,” Durwin announced. “While I light the torches I want each of you to go back outside and look at the valley in the dawn. Unless I am far wrong it will be some time before any of us sees the light of day again. I want you all to fill your hearts with a pleasant memory against the time when darkness crowds our way.”
They all went outside and gazed upon the bright green bowl of the peaceful valley. The morning light struck the curling mist with a golden radiance, and the mountains seemed crowned with flames of red gold. Shennydd Vellyn lay smooth and deep and undisturbed, mirroring the limitless blue of a clean morning sky brushed with the lace work of wispy white clouds.
The thin mountain air smelled sweet and fresh, vastly different from the dank, stale air of the mine. Quentin, though he appreciated Durwin’s suggestion as a wise one, was anxious to be off. While he gazed about him intently, his mind was so full of new excitement he saw little. When they finally turned to go back into the mine, Toli was the last to tear himself away from the beauty before him.
One by one they ascended the tumbled rocks, wet with spray. One by one they approached the thunder of the falls. One by one they parted the shimmering curtain and stepped inside, into the darkness of the fabled mines.
Esme and Bria stood on the high barbican overlooking the gates of the castle and the town below, its buildings clustered like a flock of timid sheep in the shadow of its great protector. On this fresh morning, though newborn and still fondling its night airs, the narrow, cramped streets were rivers of moving color, all surging at flood stage toward the gates below. Out on the plain, as far as Pelgrin’s dark border, threads of travelers could be seen weaving their way to the city to join the streams moving into the castle.
“From where do they come?” wondered Esme, her voice softened with awe. “There must be whole villages of people down there.”