"You didn't?!" burst out Cotton. "Well then, who fixed 'em? I mean, they opened just as slick as a whistle."
"It seems," replied Durek, "that no one repaired them. Hence, the Warder did not damage them when he wrenched and hammered at the doors centuries agone. Valki builded them welt, for they withstood the awesome might of even that dreadful Monster."
"You speak as if you saw it," spoke up Perry, "the Krakenward, I mean. Did you see it? Was it there?"
"We. slew it," growled Durek, "but it nearly proved our undoing, for it killed many of us and buried the Door under yet more rock ere we succeeded." The Dwarf King fell silent for a moment. "Where best to array the Host?" he then asked Anval,
"The Mustering Chamber, the War Hall of Kraggen-cor," replied Anval; and Borin nodded his agreement. "It is vast, and will be a good location to meet the Squam Swarm-or to sortie from."
"But that's all the way back to the Great Deep!" cried Perry, weary and exasperated. "Nearly to Dawn-Gate!"
"Naytheless," insisted Borin, "it is the best battleground for our Legion, for though it was delved long ago as an assembly chamber to array the Host against invaders coming over the Great Deop, it will serve equally well to array the Army against the Grg within the caverns. We must go there quickly to gain the advantage of a superior formation."
"But what about Lord Kian, and Shannon, and Ursor?" demanded Perry, fearing the answer. "What are we going to do about them?"
"Nothing," replied Prince Rand, his voice trembling in helpless agony. "We can do nothing, for we must race to the battleground to arrive first and array in the strongest formation, which will force the Spawn to take a weaker one, if they come. We cannot jeopardize the entire Host for the sake.of three; nor can we send a small force to search for them, for as you say, the Yrm flock in great numbers to hunt the trio, and a small force of Dwarves would be o'erwhelmed in that mission. No, we must make haste to the Mustering Chamber, and hope against all hope that the three somehow elude-the enemy until we are victorious." Prince Rand turned his face away, and his hands were trembling.
At Prince Rand's words a great leaden weight seemed to crush down upon Perry's heart, and he despaired. "You are saying we must abandon them. Surely there is some other
choice."
"Choice?" barked Durek, his face shadowed by his hood in the lantern light, his voice tinged with grim irony. "Nay, we have no choice. And we will get no further choices til the issue of Kraggen-cor is settled. As with the very act of living, there are but few true times of choosing, for most of life's so-named choices are instead but reflections of circumstance. And now is not a time of choosing; nay, our last time of choosing was at my Captain's Council at Landover Road Ford. Since then, Destiny alone has impelled each of us along that selected path. Yet, Friend Perry, we all knew our course would lead us into harm's way, and that some of us would cast lots with Death and lose, for that is one of War's chiefest fortunes. Nay, Waeran, we cannot send aid to that trio of comrades now, for their lot, too, is cast, and their future is as immutable as ours."
"But to abandon them all but assures their doom, if it is not yet upon them," Perry said bitterly. "By doing nothing we might as well have sentenced them to death. And there's been too much needless death already: first Barak and then Delk, and now Kian, Shannon, and Ursor." The buccan's eyes filled with tears of frustration, and he hammered his fist against his leg. "And all for nothing! All for a door that wasn't even broken! All for a needless mission!"
"Yes!" Rand gritted angrily through clenched teeth at Perry, for the Warrow had not yet admitted to the reality of their strait plight. And the Prince sprang to his feet and paced to and fro in agitation. "Yes!" he spat, "all for a needless mission! But one that had to be assayed at all costs, for we knew it not that the Dusk-Door had survived the wrenching of that dire creature. The Door was not broken, but we were ignorant of that knowledge. It is ever so in warfare that needless missions are undertaken in ignorance.
"Ignorance! Pah! That, too, is one of the conditions of War. And good Men and Dwarves and others die because of it. This time our ignorance may have cost me my brother; but worse yet, it may have cost my people a King! So prate not to me about needless missions, Waerlmg, for it is time you realized to the uttermost what being a warrior means, and the necessity of the cruel decisions of War, for you seem to think that we do not grasp the fullness of our course.
"But we do know! Yes, it is abandonment! Yes, it spells doom! Yes, we know! But it is you who does not seem to grasp what it means to do otherwise! This Army must be held together to meet the strength of the Yrm, and must not be fragmented into splinter parties searching for a mere three; for in that foolish action lies the seeds of the destruction of our quest-and the needs of the quest gainsay all else, no matter who is abandoned."
Like crystal shards, the jagged truth of Rand's angry words tore at Perry's heart, and the Warrow paled with their import. "Hold on there, now!" Cotton protested sharply, starting to rise to defend his master, upset not by the meaning of Rand's words but rather at the angry manner in which Rand had spat them at Perry, "there's no cause to-" but Cotton's words were cut short by a curt gesture from Borin. And Cotton reluctantly fell silent, unsaid words battering at his grimly clamped lips as he tensely settled back, ready to speak up for Perry if need be.
But then the Prince halted his caged pacing and for the first time looked and saw how utterly stunned Perry was. And Rand's own heart softened, and his voice lost its edge of wrath as he turned and reached out to the buccan. "Ah, needless missions, times of no choice. There is no choice, Perry, no choice; and in that I grieve with you, for it is my brother we abandon to War's lot. I would that it were otherwise, yet we can do nought but hope, for instead we must set forth at once to array the Host against the foul Spawn."
Anval had listened to the Prince speak sharply to Perry, but in spite of the harshness, the Dwarf was in accord with Rand's meaning; yet at the same time Anval also had seen the anguish in the Waeran's eyes. The Dwarf leaned forward and gently placed a gnarled hand upon Perry's forearm and spoke: "Aye, Friend Perry, you, I-the Squad-we all went on a necessary yet needless mission; and now you despair, for our staunch companions are missing, facing dangers unknown, fates dire; and you have said that their sacrifice has gone for nought, for it claws at you that we did not even reach the unbroken Dusken Door, the sought-for goal, our mission's end. Yet, take heed: missions fail! Only in the faery-scapes of children's hearthtales do all goodly quests succeed. But in this world many a desperate undertaking has fallen full victim to dark evil, or has been thwarted: turned back or shunted aside or delayed, not reaching the planned end, costing the coursing lifeblood of steadfast comrades. Such thwart fell upon our mission. Yet heed me again: all warriors who encounter such calamities and who live on must learn to accept these truths and go forth in spite of unforeseen setbacks.
"Once I said unto you mat you must become a warrior; and you have. But times as these test a warrior's very mettle,' and he must be as stern as hammered iron. We live, and so might our lost comrades; but in any case, we must now go forth and war upon the thieving Grg, for that is our prime reason for being here ready for battle." Anval fell silent and turned and looked expectantly at his King.
With effort, Diirek cast his hood back and reluctantly agreed: "Though I am loath to abandon our comrades to the Grg's hunt, Prince Rand is correct, and so too is Anval: we must hasten to the War Hall at the Great Deep to meet the Squam Swarm. Gnar soon will know that we are within the corridors, and he will muster to meet us. We must needs be arrayed in our strength, for the numbers of his force may be great indeed. But hearken to me, Friend Perry: after our victory, I will send search parties for any of the three who still may live. Yet now the Host must hie forth to the War Hall and array in our strongest formation."
And Perry's heart at last admitted to the grim truth, and he nodded bleakly as Durek issued the commands; and once again the Army began to move deeper into Kraggen-cor, striding to t
he northeast at a forced-march pace.
Borin led the way back toward the Bottom Chamber. Once more, when they came to the Drawing Dark-the eight-foot-wide crack in the tunnel floor-Perry overcame his fear and made the running leap over the fissure, this time with less hesitation; but Cotton delayed long, while others passed over, mustering his courage for the hurdle above the sucking depths, the leap a long one for a Warrow. At last the buccan stepped into the line of warriors and took his turn, and cleared the wide crack easily; Perry had waited for him, and together they ran to catch up with the head of the column.
At the Ova! Chamber, as signalled by Bane's jewel-flame, a force of Rucks was arrayed to meet the Dwarves: some of the enemy who earlier had escaped had told of the Dwarves' coming, and the Spawn did not yet know that it was an entire army they faced, believing instead that they were meeting, at most, a company-sized troop. And so, once again the Dwarves issued against the maggot-folk in overwhelming force, and the skirmish was short and decisive.
Durek had ordered Cotton and Perry to remain out of the fray, saying that although Anval and Bonn knew most of the Pain now, he wanted to hold the Waerans in reserve, at least until the Great Deop was reached-then he would have an entire legion of guides. And so Cotton and Perry remained back in the corridor until the engagement was over.
The march toward the Mustering Chamber continued, and as they tramped, Cotton, who was happy simply to be reunited with Perry, chatted about the Army's trek from Landover Road Ford to Dusk-Door. In spite of his low spirits, Perry soon found himself becoming more and more interested in Cotton's venture; and Perry was slowly drawn out of his black mood by the tale he was told. Cotton spoke of: the shrieking, clawing wind at the Crestan Pass; Waroo the Blizzard and the blind guides and lost Dwarves; being snowbound and the great dig-out; the forced march down the Old Rell Way, and the mud mires; the arrival at Dusk-Door; the battle with the Krakenward and the breaking of the dam and slaying of the Monster of the Dark Mere; the discovery of the Host by the Rucken spies and Brytta's troop riding from the valley to intercept them; and the removal of the mountain of rubble and the opening of the Door at midnight.
Perry was fascinated by the story. "Why, Cotton," he declared when the other finished, "you have lived an epic adventure, one as exciting as even some of the old tales."
"Wult, I don't know about that, Mister Perry." Cotton shrugged doubtfully. "It seems to me that most of it was just a bother, if you catch my meaning."
"Oh, it's an adventure, alright," assured Perry, "and when we're through with all this, I'll want to set it down in a journal for others to see." He began asking questions, seeking more detail about Cotton's venture, and Perry's Weak mood ebbed as he and the other Warrow marched north and
east with the Host.
And both Warrows soon fell to speculating as to the outcome of Brytta's mission. Each worried that the Harlingar had met up with a Swarm; yet Cotton surmised, "Oh, I believe the Valonners did their job, Sir, 'cause Gnar's army wasn't waiting at the Dusk-Door when it opened. In fact, nobody was. Not even you. But I knew you'd be alright. And since the maggot-folk weren't there, well, that means Gnar hadn't got the word, so as the Valonners must have succeeded in stopping the Rucken spies."
"I'm not sure of that, Cotton," mused Perry, "not sure at all. I mean, I'm not sure that some Spawn didn't get through to Gnar. After all, if they did get through, there would have been only a bit more than a day for Gnar to muster his forces. And perhaps he has-has mustered them, that is. Perhaps there's a great ambush awaiting us ahead and we're walking into an enormous trap."
Cotton's heart gave a lurch at these ominous words. "Wull, if that's true, Sir, then that means that Marshal Brytta may have met up with more than he bargained for; and that would be news I'd rather not know about." Yet, in spite of his remarks, Cotton fretted over the fate of the riders of the Valanreach, and would have given much to know their state of health and their whereabouts.
At that very moment, it was early morning in the Ragad Valley, and Brytta, at the fore of the Harlingar, had just ridden in to find the vale empty of all but his kinsman Farlon and the Dwarven wounded, preparing to embark on the journey south to the grassy valley.
Farlon was overjoyed to see the Vanadurin arrive, for he had longed to know their lot; and now he could see that most were safe, though his searching eyes failed to find some of his comrades in the column. Too, he felt relief, for now he would have escort in moving the wounded. And now, also, the herd could be driven south, and not left to wander the wold. The horses had been loosed, yet in their lameness had not gone from the valley.
At Brytta's query, Farlon explained that it was he who had fired the recall beacon atop the great spire of the Sentinel Stand after the Door had opened and the Host had entered. Brytta then ordered that more wood for yet another signal fire be laid high upon the towering spike to call the riders back should Wrg come fleeing out of the Dusk-Door; the top of the spire was the best place for the beacon, for, as reported by Farlon, a fire upon the tall spire should clearly be visible from the southern pasture. Three scouts, Trell, Egon, and Wylf, were named to this balefire duty. Taking turns, one of the trio always would be atop the stand to set the beacon ablaze if the Rutcha came. As Brytta said when he gave over the guard duty to the three, "I'm certain you would rather ward against a danger that never comes, than to wait with the rest of us in a pasture watching horses crop grass."
Then Brytta and the Harlingar rounded up the horses and waggons bearing the wounded and began- the drive south, following Farlon's lead. And Farlon was pleased, for not only was he reunited with his fellow Vanadurin, he also was fulfilling the pledge he had made to Prince Rand and to that fiery little Waldan, Cotton: a pledge to guide the wounded Dwarves to safe haven.
But neither Perry nor Cotton knew of those events then occurring in the Ragad Valley, and so they fretted over the unknown fate of the Harlingar; yet in spite of this uncertainty, Perry had nearly regained his former pluck. Even so, when they came to the Bottom Chamber, where last he had seen the missing trio of companions, Perry's high spirits crashed.
The Chamber was empty of Spawn; the word of a Dwarf army had passed ahead of the Host, and the Rucks and Hloks had fled before them. As the Legion marched across the arch over the stream and into the huge round room, Perry looked toward the notch in the north wall; no light came through it from the cavern beyond. "There, Prince Rand," said the Warrow, pointing, "mere's where Lord Kian, Shannon Silverleaf, and Ursor the Baeran misled the Rucks."
Rand looked on bleakly as they tramped by. Suddenly the Prince ran to the cleft and down its length, and peered into the black cave beyond, and whistled a shrill call that echoed and shocked along the cavern to be lost in its dark distance. Twice more he whistled, and each time at echo's death he was answered only by ebon silence. When he returned to-the column, his face bore a stricken look, and he spoke not. Peny, too, fell into mute despair. And the Army marched on.
Here Cotton took over the guide chores from Bonn; the Host now began moving into the corridors between the Bottom Chamber and the Grate Room, a part of the Brega Path not yet trod by Borin, for the Squad had fled through the Gargon's Lair instead.
Bane's blade-jewel spoke only of distant danger, and the long column soon reached the Side Hall, where the floor of
the corridor began its long, gentle upward slope out of the lower Neaths and toward the upper Rises. During this part of the trek, Cotton chatted gaily, trying mightily to draw Perry out of his biack mood, but to no avail.
As they marched away from the Side Hall, Bane began to glimmer more strongly, and word was passed that Squam were coming nigh. They tramped for two more miles and Bane's light slowly faded; but then a great hubbub washed over the Legion from the rear of the column. "Hey," questioned Cotton, "what's all mis commotion about?" But no one there could answer him.
Finally, word was passed up-column to Durek that a large force of Rucks had boiled out of the Side Hall and had atacked the rear guar
d of the Host. A savage battle had ensued, and the Spawn were once again routed, but this time some Dwarves had fallen in the fight.
"So it begins at last," rasped Durek. "The foul Grg will harass and ambush us from coverts until Gnar musters his forces for battle. Pass the word that the War has begun. Henceforth, the slain shall lie where they are felled, and we shall remain unhooded until the last battle is done."
The march began again, and now Cotton fell into a black mood too, for he knew not the lot of Bomar, Captain of the Rear Guard, nor the fate of his friends of the cook-waggon crew. But though the Warrow fretted, he continued to guide well, and the Legion made good time in their trek toward the Grate Room. Again Bane's rune-jewel began to glow brighter as they marched east; and the nearer they came to the Room, the more luminous became the blue flame. They trod swiftly, and the vanguard of Felor's forces gripped their axes in readiness as they quickstepped up the passageway. And then from ahead they heard a great shouting of maggot-foik and a clatter of weapons.
Felor's companies sprang forward, and they raced toward the last turn before the Grate Room. As they rounded the curve, up a long straight corridor they could see torchlight, and there were Spawn clamoring and milling about the door of the Room, battering it with hammers and a ram. Momentarily, the Rucken band did not see the Dwarves; and Felor's Companies made many running strides toward the enemy before the Host was detected; and then it was too late, for the Rucks had not enough time to array themselves to meet the rush. There was a clash of axes on scimitars, and the Spawn were borne backwards by the charge. Again the battle was swift and savage: the Dwarves hewed the Squam, and black Rucken gore splashed the stone as the maggot-folk were felled.
And in the midst of the fray, Perry saw the Grate Room door fly open, and out sprang two tall, face-blackened figures ready to join the fight. It was Lord Kian! And Shannon Silverleaf! They were alive!
From a distance, Prince Rand, too, saw his besmudged brother and gave a shrill whistle, and he and Kian looked upon one another, and they were glad. Then Rand raised his sword and inclined his head toward the retreating Spawn, and they both plunged after the Dwarves to join the battle against the foe.
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