Sparhawk asked.
"I'm not sure,' Flute replied. 'The last time I was here I
was on foot. The horses should be able to go much
faster.'
'You were up here alone and on foot? With Trolls and
Ogres about?' he asked incredulously.
"I didn't see any of those. There was a young bear that
followed me for a few days, though. I think he was only
curious, but I got tired of having him behind me, so I
made him go away.'
Sparhawk decided not to ask her any more questions.
The answers were far too disturbing.
The high grassland seemed interminable. They rode
for hours, but the skyline did not appear to change. The
sun sank low above the snowy peaks, and they made
their camp in a small clump of stunted pines.
"It's big country up here,' Kurik said, looking around.
He pulled his cloak closer about him. 'Cold too, once the
sun goes down. Now I can see why most Thalesians wear
fur.'
They hobbled the horses to keep them from straying,
and built up the fire.
'There's no real danger here in this meadow,' Flute
assured them. 'Trolls and Ogres like to stay in the forest.
The hunting's easier for them when they can hide behind
trees.'
The next morning dawned cloudy, and a chilly wind
swept down from the mountain peaks, bending the tall
grass in long waves. They rode hard that day, and by
evening they had reached the foot of the peaks that
towered white above them. 'We can't make any fire
tonight,' Flute said. 'Ghwerig may be watching.'
'Are we that close?' Sparhawk asked.
'You see that ravine just ahead?'
"yes.'
'Ghwerig's cave is at the upper end of it.'
'Why didn't we just go on up there, then?'
'That wouldn't have been a good idea. You can't sneak
up on a Troll at night. We'll wait until the sun's well up
tomorrow before we start out. Trolls usually doze in the
daytime. They don't actually ever really sleep, but
theire a little less alert when the sun's out.'
"you seem to know a great deal about them.'
"It's not too hard to find things out - if you know the
right people to ask. Make Sephrenia some tea and some
hot soup. Tomorrow's likely to be very difficult for her,
and she'll need all her strength.'
"It's a little hard to make hot soup without a fire.'
'Oh, Sparhawk, I know that. I may be small, but I'm
not stupid. Heap up a pile of rocks in front of the tent. I'll
take care of the rest.'
Grumbling to himself, he did as she directed.
'Get back from it,' she said. "I don't want to burn you
'Burn? How?'
She began to sing softly, and then she made a brief
gesture with one small hand. Sparhawk immediately felt
the heat radiating out from his pile of rock.
'That's a useful spell,' he said admiringly.
'Start cooking, Sparhawk. I can't keep the rocks hot all
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night.'
It was very strange, Sparhawk thought, as he set
Sephrenia's tea-kettle up against one of the heated rocks.
Somehow in the past weeks he had almost begun to stop
thinking of Flute as a child. Her tone and manner were
adult, and she ordered him around like a lackey. Even
more surprising was the fact that he automatically
obeyed her. Sephrenia was right, he decided. This little
girl was in all probability one of the most powerful
magicians in all of Styricum. A disturbing question came
to him. Just how old was Flute anyway? Could Styric
magicians control or modify their ages? He knew that
neither Sephrenia nor Flute would answer those questions,
so he busied himself with cooking and tried not to
think about it.
They awoke at dawn, but Flute insisted that they wait
until mid-morning before they attempted to ascend the
ravine. She also instructed them to leave the horses at the
camp since the sound of their hooves on the rocks might
alert the sharp-eared Troll lurking inside the cave.
The ravine was narrow with sheer sides, and it was
filled with dense shadows. The four of them moved
slowly up its rocky floor, placing their feet carefully to
avoid dislodging any loose stones. They spoke but rarely
and then only in whispers. Sparhawk carried the ancient
spear. For some reason it seemed right.
The climb grew steeper, and they were forced to
clamber over rounded boulders now in order to continue
their ascent. As they neared the top, Flute motioned
them to a halt and crept on ahead a few yards. Then she
came back. 'He's inside,' she whispered, 'and he's
already started his enchantments.
'is the cave-mouth blocked?' Sparhawk whispered
back.
'in a manner of speaking. When we get up there, you
won't be able to see it. He's created an ilusion to make it
look as if the mouth of the cave is just a part of the cliff
face. The illusion is solid enough so that we won't be able
to just walk through it. You'll need to use the spear to
break through.' She whispered for a moment to
Sephrenia, and the small woman nodded. 'All right,
then,' Flute said, taking a deep breath, 'let's go.'
They climbed up the last few yards and entered a
bleak, unwholesome-looking basin choked with
brambles and dead white snags. On one side of the basin
there was a steep overhanging cliff that did not appear to
have any openings in it.
There it is,' Flute whispered.
'Are you sure this is the right place?' Kurik murmured.
"It looks like solid rock.'
'This is the place,' she replied. 'Ghwerig's hiding the
entrance.' She led the way along a scarcely defined path
to the face of the cliff. "It's right here,' she said softly,
laying one small hand on the rock. 'Now, this is what
we're going to do. Sephrenia and I are going to cast a
spell. When we release it, it's going to pour into you,
Sparhawk. You'll feel very strange for a moment, and
then you'll feel the power starting to build up inside you.
At the right moment, I'll tell you what to do.' She began
to sing very softly, and Sephrenia spoke in Styric almost
under her breath. Then, in unison, they both gestured at
Sparhawk.
His eyes went suddenly dim, and he almost fell. He felt
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very weak, and the spear he held in his left hand seemed
almost too heavy to bear. Then, just as quickly, it seemed
to have no weight at all. He felt his shoulders surging
with the force of the spell.
'Now,' Flute said to him, 'point the spear at the face of
the cliff.'
He lifted his arm and did as she had told him.
'Walk forward until the spear touches the wall.'
He took two steps and felt the spear-point touch the
unyielding rock.
'Release the p
ower - through the spear.'
He concentrated, gathering the power within him. The
ring on his left hand seemed to throb. Then he sent the
power along the shaft of the spear into the broad blade.
The seemingly solid rock in front of him wavered, and
then it was gone, revealing an irregularly shaped
opening. 'And there it is,' Flute said in a triumphant whisper,
'Ghwerig's cave. Now let's go and find him.'
*Chapter25
The cave had the musty smell of long-damp earth and
rock, and there was the sound of water endlessly
dripping somewhere off in the darkness. 'Where's he
most likely to be?' Sparhawk whispered to Flute.
'We'll start in his treasure chamber,' she replied. 'He
likes to look at his hoard. It's down there.' She pointed at
the opening of a passageway.
"It's completely dark back in there,' he said dubiously.
"I'll take care of that,' Sephrenia told him.
'But quietly,' flute cautioned. "We don't know exactly
where Ghwerig is, and he can hear and feel magic.' She
looked closely at Sephrenia. 'Are you all right?' she
asked.
"It's not as bad as it was,' Sephrenia replied, shifting Sir
Gared's sword to her right hand.
'Good. I'm not going to be able to do anything in here.
Ghwerig would recognize my voice. You're going to
have to do almost everything.'
"I can manage,' Sephrenia said, but her voice sounded
weary. She held up the sword. 'As long as I have to carry
this anyway, I may as well use it.' She muttered briefly
and made a small motion with her left hand. The tip of
the sword began to glow, a tiny incandescent spark. "It's
not much of a light,' she said critically, 'but it's going to
have to do. If I made it any brighter, Ghwerig would see
it.' She raised the sword and led the way into the mouth
of the gallery. The glowing tip of the sword looked
almost like a firefly in the oppressive darkness, but it cast
just enough faint light to make it possible for them to find
their way and avoid obstructions on the rough floor of
the passageway they were following.
The passage curved steadily downward and to the
right. After they had gone a few hundred paces,
Sparhawk realized that it was not a natural gallery, but
rather that it had been carved out of the rock, and it
moved in a steady spiral down and down. 'How did
Ghwerig make this?' he whispered to Flute.
'He used Bhelliom. The old passage is much longer,
and it's very steep. Ghwerig's so badly deformed that it
used to take him days to climb up out of the cave.'
They moved on, walking as quietly as they could. At
one point the gallery passed through a large cavern
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where limestone icicles hung from the ceiling, dripping
continually. Then the passage continued on into the
rock. Occasionally, their faint light disturbed a colony of
bats hanging from the ceiling, and the creatures chittered
shrilly as they flapped frantically away in large, dark
clouds.
"I hate bats,' Kurik said with an oath.
'They won't hurt you,' Flute whispered. 'A bat wil
never run into you, not even in total darkness.'
'Are their eyes that good?'
'No, but their ears are.'
'Do you know everything?' Kurik's whisper sounded a
little grumpy.
'Not yet,' she said quietly, 'but I'm working on that. Do
you have anything to eat? I'm a little hungry for some
reason. '
"Some dried beef,' Kurik replied, reaching inside the
tunic that covered his black leather vest. "It's very salty,
though.'
'There's plenty of water in this cave.' She took the
chunk of leather-hard beef he offered and bit into it. "It is
a little salty, isn't it?' she admitted, swallowing hard.
They moved on. Then they saw a light coming from
somewhere ahead, faint at first but growing steadily
stronger as they moved on down the spiral gallery. 'His
treasure cave is just ahead,' Flute whispered. 'Let me
have a look.' She crept on ahead and then returned. 'He's
there,' she said, her face breaking into a smile.
'is he making that light?' Kurik whispered.
'No. It comes down from the surface. There's a stream
that drops down into the cavern. It catches the sunlight at
certain times of the day.' She was speaking in a normal
tone now. 'The sound of the waterfall will muffle our
voices. We still have to be careful, though. His eyes will
catch any movement.' She spoke briefly to Sephrennia,
and the small Styric woman nodded. She reached up and
extinguished the spark at the tip of the sword between
two fingers. Then she began to weave an incantation.
'What's she doing?' Sparhawk asked Flute.
'Ghwerig's talking to himself,' she replied, 'and it
might just be that he'll say something useful to us. He's
speaking in the language of the Trolls, so Sephrenia's
making it possible for us to understand him.'
'You mean that she's going to make him speak in
Elene?'
'No. The spell isn't directed at him.' She smiled that
impish little smile of hers. "you're learning many things,
Sparhawk. Now you'll understand the language of the
Trolls - for a time at least.'
Sephrenia released the spell, and quite suddenly
Sparhawk could hear much more than he had during
their long descent through the spiralling gallery. The
rushing sound of the waterfall dropping into the cavern
ahead became almost a roar, and Ghwerig's rasping
mutter came clearly over it.
'We'll wait here for a time,' Flute told them. 'Ghwerig's
an outcast, so he talks to himself most of the time, and he
says whatever is crossing his mind. We can find out
a great deal by eavesdropping. Oh, by the way, he has
Sarak's crown, and Bhelliom's still attached to it.'
Sparhawk felt a sudden rush of excitement. The thing
he had sought for so long was no more than a few
hundred paces away. 'What's he doing?' he asked Flute.
'He's sitting at the edge of the chasm that the waterfall
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has carved out of the rock. All his treasures are piled up
around him. He's cleaning the peat-stains off Bhelliom
with his tongue. That's why we can't understand him at
the moment. Let's move a little closer, but stay back from
the mouth of the gallery.'
They crept on down towards the light and stopped a
few yards from the opening. The reflected light from the
waterfall shimmered and seemed to waver liquidly. It
was peculiarly like a rainbow.
"thieves! Thieves!' The voice was harsh, far harsher
than any Elene or Styric throat could have produced.
'Dirty. She all dirty.' There was more of the slobbering
sound as the Troll-Dwarf licked at his treasure. 'Stealers
all dead now,' Ghwerig cho
rtled hideously. 'All dead.
Ghwerig not dead, and his rose come home at last.'
'He sounds as if he's mad,' Kurik muttered.
'He always has been,' Flute told him. 'His mind's as
twisted as his body.'
Talk to Ghwerig, Blue Rose!' the unseen monstrosity
commanded. Then he howled out a hideous oath directed
at the Styric Goddess Aphrael. 'Bring back rings
Bring back rings! Bhelliom not talk to Ghwerig if Ghwerig
not got rings!' There was a blubbering sound, and
Sparhawk realized with revulsion that the beast was
crying. 'Lonely,' the Troll sobbed. 'Ghwerig so lonely!'
Sparhawk felt a wrench of almost unbearable pity for
the misshapen dwarf.
'Don't do that,' Flute said sharply. "It will weaken you
when you face him. You're our only hope now,
Sparhawk, and your heart must be like stone.'
Then Ghwerig spoke for a time in terms so vile that
there were no counterparts in the Elene language.
'He's invoking the Troll-Gods,' Flute explained
quietly. She cocked her head. 'Listen,' she said sharply.
'The Troll-Gods are answering him.'
The muted roar of the waterfall seemed to change tone,
becoming deeper, more resonant.
'We'll have to kill him very soon,' the little girl said in a
chillingly matter-of-fact tone. 'He still has some fragments
of the original sapphire left in his workshop. The
Troll Gods instructed him to make new rings. Then
they'll infuse them with the force to unlock the power of
Bhelliom. He'll be able to destroy us at that point.'
Then Ghwerig chuckled hideously. 'Ghwerig beat
you, Azash. Azash a God, but Ghwerig beat him. Azash
not ever see Bhelliom now.'
'Can Azash possibly hear him?' Sparhawk asked.
'Probably,' Sephrenia said calmly. 'Azash knows the
sound of His own name. He listens when somebody says
something to Him.'
'Man-things swim in lake to find Bhelliom,' Ghwerig
rambled on. 'Bug-thing belong Azash watch from weeds
and see them. Man-things go away. Bug-thing bring
man-things with no minds. Man-things swim in water.
Many drown. One man-thing find Bhelliom. Ghwerig
kill man-thing and take Blue Rose. Azash want Bhelliom?
Azash come seek Ghwerig. Azash cook in Troll-God fire.
Ghwerig never eat God-meat before. Ghwerig wonder
how God-meat taste.'
Deep within the earth there was a rumbling sound,
and the floor of the cave seemed to shudder.
'Azash definitely heard him,' Sephrenia said. 'You
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