The History of Krynn: Vol III

by Dragon Lance

  “Cale Greeneye,” Eloeth said, returning his wave. “Your company has grown since last we met. How fare the Hylar? I have heard you found your Everbardin.”

  “You have heard?”

  “We hear many things,” she said, perching on a broken tree just yards away. “For instance, we hear that the drumbeater dwarves have allied with the tribes of Kal-Thax and now are seeking an alliance with the humans of eastern Ergoth.”

  “Not so much an alliance.” Cale frowned. “More like a joint project. We might build a road.”

  “Through Tharkas Pass?”

  Cale gazed at the wall of peaks in the distance. “Where else? A road that dead-ended at those mountains would do no good.”

  “And do you know what lies beyond Tharkas?”

  “Some other land.” He shrugged. “Someplace where humans might go, so they won’t need to bother us.”

  Eloeth shook her head slightly. Cale couldn’t tell whether the expression on her face was a smile or a grimace. “Other lands, indeed,” she said. “That ‘other land’ is the home of my people. It has been, ever since some of us began to drift away from Silvanesti. Do you think that we want those you will not allow in Kal-Thax? The western forests are not a dumping ground for dwarves’ spare humans, you know.”

  Cale stared at her, at a loss for words. It had never crossed his mind – or anyone else’s, apparently – that there might be people beyond Kal-Thax just as reluctant to absorb hordes of refugees as the dwarves were.

  “Well?” Eloeth prompted.

  “Well … we have come this far to see Tharkas Pass. I would like to see it.”

  “Don’t you think you have come far enough beyond your own lands?” Demoth challenged, striding down the slope to stand beside Eloeth. Behind them other elves – hundreds of them, it seemed, changed positions subtly, backing the challenge.

  “This is our land!” Mica Rockreave bristled, at Cale’s flank. “We have joined in the Covenant of Thanes, and you people are the trespassers here, not us. Kal-Thax is ours, and Kal-Thax goes all the way to Tharkas Pass.”

  “Does it?” Eloeth smiled knowingly. “Who says so?”

  “Olim Goldbuckle said so,” Cale put in, trying to wave down the short-tempered Mica Rockreave. “The Daewar have made a map of Kal-Thax. The boundaries are clear.”

  “Dwarven maps are like dwarven minds,” Demoth purred. “They claim everything and clarify nothing. Realms are not bound by lines on maps, dwarf. Realms extend to the reach of those who control them and no farther.”

  “Dwarves control the lands from the south plains to Tharkas Pass,” Cale explained. “At least, that’s how it is supposed to be.”

  “Dwarves are —” Demoth started, then subsided as Eloeth raised an elegant hand. Cale turned to scowl at Mica Rockreave and put a finger to his lips. The last thing the young Neidar wanted to do, on a scouting mission, was to start a war with the elves.

  “Demoth is right,” Eloeth said softly. “Not in a hundred years or more has their been a dwarven patrol exercising presence this far north. You are eighty miles beyond the natural limit of Kal-Thax where people live and use the land. This is all wilderness out here, and just beyond that pass lies the enchanted forest we call home.”

  “And beyond that?”

  “Beyond?” She shrugged. “All sorts of places. Human realms, mostly. Western Ergoth is nearest and largest. Why?”

  “Just curious,” Cale assured her. “But I would still like to see that pass. Do you object?”

  “I suppose we can show it to you,” Eloeth said, standing. “It won’t hurt for you to see it.”

  “Thank you,” Cale Greeneye bowed slightly in his tall saddle, then turned another frown on Mica Rockreave and those around him. “Just be still and let me handle this!” he whispered.

  “But these elves are …”

  “These elves are going to show us Tharkas Pass. Come on. Let’s go.”

  *

  Cale was astonished at how quickly they covered the miles up to the great pass. Following the hidden ways and traveled trails of the elves, most of which he would never have known were there except for the sight of throngs of silent-footed elves trotting along ahead of him, they seemed to bypass all of the rough places and travel only the best paths. The sun of Krynn was still in the sky when the party climbed the last rise and entered a huge, magnificently walled cleft in the mountain ridge. For a mile they traveled between wide-set stone steeps which climbed into the high mists, then the path angled downward slightly and – abruptly – the walls opened out.

  The view was breathtaking. The path curved downward, following natural slopes – downward and away to lose itself in distance. And beyond, spreading to the limits of vision, was a tremendous, forested plateau, a solid carpet of new-greening trees that rolled away toward the horizon. From the mouth of the pass the forests of the elves seemed to begin several thousand feet away and to go on from there forever.

  “Beautiful,” Cale breathed, climbing down from Piquin’s high back to stand beside Eloeth. “That’s where you live, huh?”

  “That is the place we call home.” She nodded. “From where the forest begins, as far as you can see.”

  “From where the forest begins?” Cale pointed. “Down there?”

  “That’s right.”

  Cale smiled delightedly, then turned, facing his own companions, and raised sturdy arms. “On behalf of the Council of Thanes and the people of Kal-Thax,” he roared, “I hereby claim all the lands we have traveled, to and including this place where we stand, as part of Kal-Thax. Kal-Thax extends to this point!” He unslung his hammer, drew an iron spike from his belt and knelt. With one resounding blow he drove the spike into the stone of Tharkas Pass.

  Demoth was beside him then, spinning to face him, his bow raised threateningly. “Stop that!” the elf demanded. “What are you doing?”

  Cale stood and gazed at the elf levelly. “I have done what you yourself suggested. I have just clarified what dwarven maps – and dwarven minds – claim. Everything behind us is Kal-Thax, by right of my claim and my stake.”

  Demoth stared, still holding his bow tensed. “You can’t do that,” he said.

  “I just did,” the Neidar pointed out. “And if you have any doubt of the reach of those who claim the realm, then please notice that we have reached here with your blessing. And if you raise that bow, elf, I swear I will feed you my hammer a pound at a time.”

  “Demoth!” Eloeth was there, pushing down the male elf’s hands and his bow. “Let it alone! It’s only a claim, and means nothing unless it is ratified and enforced.” She turned to Cale. “Clever,” she said. “You obtained my warrant that this place is beyond our homeland, so you have taken nothing that we have a right to defend. You are full of surprises, Cale Greeneye of the Hylar.”

  “Of Thorbardin and Kal-Thax,” he corrected, “though I – and my friends – are more Neidar than Holgar.”

  “What?”

  “It is a manner of speech. It means we prefer the outsides of slopes to the insides of them. But I have one more surprise for you, if you will permit. On that pack horse are two kegs of good ale, and we have the haunches of a mountain bison. If you and your company will share a fire with us this night, I’d like to hear how the wars go in the east.”

  “But what of this claim business?”

  “Oh, that’s all done. I’ve made the claim on legitimate grounds. I suppose it’s up to my leaders, and yours, to get together sometime and decide what to do about it.” He turned again, gazing off across the distant forest. “Western Ergoth lies beyond, you say? Where?”

  She pointed northward. “There, and westward beyond the forest.”

  “The new road might have to be longer than we anticipated,” Cale said. “But it could serve elven purposes, too, you know.”

  Chapter 28

  FATHER OF KINGS

  Willen Ironmaul felt a touch of elation as he and his personal escort – named the Ten in honor of those who had
served Colin Stonetooth – emerged from the first warren into the great cavern of Thorbardin. His mission to the lands of eastern Ergoth had been a success. He knew Tera would be pleased. His immediate desire was to go straight to the new Hylar delvings and see her, but a reception committee was waiting for him at the cable-way.

  “The drums told us you had returned.” Olim Goldbuckle grinned. “Business first, Sir Chieftain. How went your visit to the human lands?”

  “Very well, I believe,” Willen said. “Not only will they build a roadway to the mountains, following Cale’s route, but the knights have agreed to patrol it at their end to stop the migrations toward Cloudseeker. Lord Charon gave me his oath and his hand on it.”

  “Marvelous!” The Daewar slapped the big dwarf on his armored back and started him along the shoreline path to Daebardin. “I have called for the Council to assemble,” he said. “Now, how about trade? Did you discuss trade with the Ergothians?”

  “They will trade grain, dyes, and fibers for tools and glass.” Willen nodded. “I agreed to no more than that, but if it goes well we can expand upon the commodities. Oh, and Lord Charon is prepared to discuss more extensive trade with the Overlords in Xak Tsaroth. He feels it will give his people a nice edge there, if their clerks can act as agents for things like woolen goods, embossed plating, leathers, and ironware. Oh, and gemcraft. His exact words were, Those pestilent city-dwellers love anything that sparkles, and if they can’t steal it, then they’ll buy it.’”

  “Did you discuss weapons?”

  “They know we can make better weapons than they can, but I didn’t discuss trading in weapons. I felt that should be a Council decision.”

  The Daewar prince glanced at Willen shrewdly. “A wise notion,” he said. “We should go slowly in providing humans with fine weapons. But that may come later. The more secure we become in Kal-Thax, with Thorbardin as our fortress, the less we shall need to worry about our goods being turned against us.”

  Through the outer Theiwar digs they walked, and Willen was taken by the extent of the delving that had been done just in the time of his journey. Many of the delvers working there, he noticed, were Daewar.

  “We’re doing some bartering of skills,” Olim noted. “We do what we’re best at, they do what they’re best at, and we all come out ahead.”

  Everywhere, as far as could be seen around the lakeshore, the great cavern bustled with activity. By the hundreds and by the thousands, the people of Thorbardin were working to build cities and homes for all of the emerged thanes.

  Past the Theiwar digs, the little procession entered a wide tunnel and emerged into Klar territory. Here the delves were different – lower and wider, with stout barricades for walls. The Klar had their own ideas of architecture, and their own ways of doing things, but here again, Willen noticed a mix of races. Much of the delving was being done by Daewar, much of the hauling by Theiwar and quite a few Hylar were involved in the masonry of the heavy walls. The place was being built for Klar, but there weren’t many Klar to be seen.

  “More barter?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Olim chuckled. “The Klar don’t care for construction, so they’re working the warrens while this goes on. They do have a way with worms.”

  Across a waterway, where cable-ferries plied, they entered a brighter territory. Hylar designers were supervising the installation of a mirrored sun gallery for the Daewar beneath one of the mountain’s quartz shafts.

  “The other chiefs will meet us in my assembly hall,” Olim Goldbuckle said. “But I think there is time for a bit of ale first.”

  Willen started to nod, then turned abruptly, looking out across the waters of the subterranean sea. Out there, where the huge mass of the “living stone” stalactite stood above the water, drums were speaking. He listened for a moment, then handed his packs to the nearest of the Ten and grabbed Olim’s arm. “Hang the council meeting!” he said. “I have to go home! Where are your docks?”

  With the chieftain of the Hylar in charge, and the prince of the Daewar in tow, the two sprinted away, leaving their stunned escorts to stare after them.

  “What was that all about?” a Daewar guard stammered.

  “The drums!” A Hylar grinned. “Our chief is about to be a father.”

  Mistral Thrax had heard the drums, too. Now, as he hobbled from his temporary cubicle in Daebardin down to the shore of the Urkhan Sea, the echoing clamors of the great cavern seemed to take on the sound of them, and he hopped faster, flailing his crutch as he ran. The palms of his hands, which had once touched magic, tingled and itched, and he felt the lore of past and future gathering around him.

  Tera Sham’s child was due, and the drums called, and Mistral Thrax wanted to be there. A child was borning, and the child was of the seed of Colin Stonetooth.

  At the pier below Daebardin’s main way, Mistral Thrax hobbled across to where a cable-boat was tied. The boatman – like most boatmen working the new cable-ways from the shores out to the lower end of the great stalactite that was being delved for the Hylar – was a sullen-looking Theiwar. The Theiwar had proven adept at handling cables and winches, and many – unlike most dwarves of other clans – could swim. Thus they often bartered service in the cable-ways, and particularly the waterways. Their skills they bartered for the skills of Daewar to delve living spaces for them, of Hylar to construct walls and doors, and for materials from the Daergar mines and forges.

  It was a system that had evolved in recent times, this trading of skills among the clans, and most of the dwarves felt it worked well enough, except for the resultant necessity to deal with people for whom centuries of enmity were not easily forgotten. Daewar delvers riding the boats or cable-carts tended to ignore the Theiwar who operated them, as though they were not there. The Theiwar, in their turn, did all they could to make their Daewar passengers uncomfortable.

  As for the Daergar, delivering loads of ore to the furnaces and foundries, they simply ignored everybody unless someone happened to bump them or get in their way. Hardly a day went by in Thorbardin without some major dispute that in many cases had to be resolved by the Council of Thanes. Already, plans were being drawn for a Hall of Justice, because of the pugnacious attitudes of the people who had come to live – more or less together – in Thorbardin. And there were more people each day, as Einar from outside came to join the undermountain clans.

  At pierside, Mistral Thrax poised himself on his crutch, then hopped down into the big cable-boat, causing waters to lap along its sides and drawing a frown from the Theiwar at the winch.

  “What do you want?” the boatman snapped.

  “What do you think I want?” Mistral growled back, seating himself in the stern. “This is a boat, and I’m a passenger. I want to go to the stalactite.”

  “Well, that’s good,” the Theiwar said, “since that’s the only place this boat goes. Hardly worth the effort, though, just for one old gimper. Gonna work, might as well have a load.” He glared at the old Hylar, and lounged pointedly against his cable housing.

  “I didn’t ask your opinions on the subject of efficiency!” Mistral glared back. “Get that winch going!”

  “What will you give me to take you across?” the Theiwar asked.

  “It’s what I’ll give you if you don’t that should concern you!” Mistral raised his crutch like a cudgel.

  The Theiwar sighed, then cast off his moorings and grasped his winch handles. “At least you’re no gold-molding Daewar,” he muttered. “I hate taking orders from Daewar.”

  Mistral lowered his crutch as the boat began to move. “If you don’t like this job, why do it?”

  “It beats digging rock,” the boatman allowed. “There’s a team of delvers slaking out a dig for me and my family in Theibardin. So I’m over here hauling this scow.” A trumpet sounded, and he looked up. “Oh, now that’s more like it,” he said, reversing the winch. Immediately, the boat stopped and started going backward, back toward the Daebardin pier.

  Mistral turned. T
here were people at the pier, waving frantically. Among them were Willen Ironmaul and Olim Goldbuckle, a brace of panting guardsmen, and a pair of aging Hylar women carrying bundles of cloths. There were also several Daewar women, and a Theiwar woman carrying copper pots.

  As the boat approached the landing, the crowd pushed forward. “Hurry up, Chard!” the Theiwar woman called to the boatman. “We are wanted over there!”

  Even before the boat had nestled against the dock, people were piling aboard, pushing and shoving for space. The last to board were the chieftain of the Hylar and the prince of the Daewar. “Hurry, boatman!” Willen snapped. “It’s time!”

  The Theiwar gazed at him impudently. “And what time is that?”

  With a surge and two strides, Willen was in the bow, pushing the Theiwar out of the way. The big Hylar took the winch-handles in hands like iron sledges, and the boat plowed water as it headed out across Urkhan’s Sea.

  “You and your attitudes!” the Theiwar women snapped at the boatman. She brandished her copper pots at him. “Don’t you know what these mean?”

  He stared at her stupidly, then his eyes widened. “Ah?” he said. “Ah! That time!” Staggering forward, he joined the Hylar chieftain at the winches, and the boat fairly raced for the tip of the stalactite in the middle of the lake.

  Mistral Thrax frowned, shoving for space between two of the females. The women always know, he thought, the women with their cloths and their serious expressions, the copper pots for heating water – probably they knew even before the drums sounded from the Hylar quarters. It was time for a child to be born. His palms tingled and itched, and he clung to a wale to keep from being pushed overboard as the women shifted their positions in the boat impatiently. “Hurry!” one of them demanded. “Can’t you people pull faster?”

  Muttering an oath, Mistral Thrax tapped his crutch against the timbered deck, then stared at it, blinking. For an instant, the crutch had seemed to glow. And in that instant it had seemed not like a crutch, but more like a fishing spear – a spear with twin tines. Mistral looked up. Apparently, no one else had noticed anything. He noticed that other boats were coming from other piers around the big lake, all pulling toward the center.