Magician (28 page)

Borric gave his son a questioning look,
while Dolgan chuckled and said, “That’s a bright lad
you’ve got, Lord Borric.” He nodded thoughtfully, then
said, “Aye, Prince. They’re up there, and in strength.
Despite their other grievous faults, the moredhel are not without
skill in warcraft.” He fell silent again, lost in thought for a
few minutes. Then, tapping out the dottle of his pipe, he said, “The
dwarven folk are not counted the finest warriors in the West for
naught, but we lack the numbers to dispose of our more troublesome
neighbors. To dislodge such a host as have been passing would require
a great force of men, well armed and provisioned.”

Kulgan said, “I would give
anything to know how they reached these mountains.”

“I would rather know how many
there are,” said the Duke.

Dolgan refilled his pipe and, after it
was lit, stared thoughtfully into the fire. Weylin and Udell nodded
at each other, and Weylin said. “Lord Borric, there may be as
many as five thousand.”

Before the startled Duke could respond,
Dolgan came out of his reverie. Swearing an oath, he said, “Closer
to ten thousand!” He turned to look at the Duke, whose
expression showed he clearly didn’t understand what was being
said. Dolgan added, “We’ve given every reason for this
migration save invasion. Plague, internal warfare between bands,
pests in their crops causing famine, but an invading army of aliens
was not one of them.

“From the number of towns empty,
we guess a few thousand goblins and moredhel have descended into the
Green Heart. South of those villages are a clutch of huts my two boys
could overcome unaided. But others are walled hill forts, with a
hundred, two hundred warriors to man the palisade. They’ve
swept away a dozen such in little over a month. How many men do you
judge you’d need to accomplish such a deed, Lord Borric?”

For the first time in his memory, Pug
saw fear clearly etched upon the Duke’s face. Borric leaned
forward, his arm resting across his knee, as he said, “I’ve
fifteen hundred men in Crydee, counting those in the frontier
garrisons along the boundary. I can call another eight hundred or a
thousand each from the garrisons at Carse and Tulan, though to do so
would strip them fully. The levies from the villages and towns number
at best a thousand, and most would be old veterans from the siege at
Carse or young boys without skills.”

Arutha looked as grim as his father as
he said, “Forty-five hundred at the outside, a full third
unproved, against an army of ten thousand.”

Udell looked at his father, then at
Lord Borric. “My father makes no boast of our skills, nor of
the moredhel’s, Your Grace. Whether there be five thousand or
ten thousand, they’ll be hard, experienced fighters to drive
out the enemies of our blood so quickly.”

“Then I’m thinking,”
said Dolgan, “you’d best send word to your older son and
your vassal barons, telling them to stay safely behind the walls of
your castles, and hie yourself to Krondor. It will take all the
Armies of the West to withstand these newcomers this spring.”

Tomas suddenly said, “Is it
really that bad?” then looked embarrassed for interrupting the
council. “I’m sorry, my lord.”

Borric waved away the apology. “It
may be we are weaving many threads of fear together into a larger
tapestry than exists, but a good soldier prepares for the worst,
Tomas. Dolgan is right. I must enlist the Prince’s aid.”
He looked at Dolgan. “But to call the Armies of the West to
arms, I must reach Krondor.”

Dolgan said, “The South Pass is
closed, and your human ships’ masters have too much sense to
brave the Straits of Darkness in winter. But there is another way,
though it is a difficult path. There are mines throughout these
mountains, ancient tunnels under the Grey Towers. Many were carved by
my people as we dug for iron and gold. Some are natural, fashioned
when the mountains were born. And still others were here when my
people first came to these mountains, dug by only the gods know whom.
There is one mine that passes completely under the mountains, coming
out on the other side of the range, only a day’s march from the
road to Bordon. It will take two days to pass through, and there may
be dangers.”

The dwarven brothers looked at their
father, and Weylin said, “Father, the Mac Mordain Cadal?”

Dolgan nodded his head. “Aye, the
abandoned mine of my grandfather, and his father before him.”
He said to the Duke, “We have dug many miles of tunnels under
the mountain, and some connect with the ancient passages I have
spoken of. There are dark and queer tales about Mac Mordain Cadal,
for it is connected with these old passages. Not a few dwarves have
ventured deep into the old mines, seeking legendary riches, and most
have returned. But a few have vanished. Once upon a path, a dwarf can
never lose his way back, so they were not lost in their searching.
Something must have befallen them. I tell you this so there will be
no misunderstandings, but if we keep to the passages dug by my
ancestors, we should have small risk.”

“ ‘We,’ friend
dwarf?” said the Duke.

Dolgan grinned “Should I simply
place your feet upon the path, you’d be hopelessly lost within
an hour. No, I’d care not for traveling to Rillanon to explain
to your King how I’d managed to lose one of his better Dukes. I
will guide you willingly, Lord Borric, for a small price.” He
winked at Pug and Tomas as he spoke the last. “Say, a pouch of
tabac and a fine dinner at Crydee.”

The Duke’s mood lightened a
little With a smile he said, “Done, and our thanks, Dolgan.”

The dwarf turned to his sons. “Udell,
you take half the compam and one of the mules, and the Duke’s
men too ill or wounded to continue. Make for the castle at Crydee.
There’s an ink horn and quill, wrapped in parchment, somewhere
in our baggage; find it for his lordship, so he may instruct his men.
Weylin, take the others of our kin back to Caldara, then send word to
the other villages before the winter blizzards strike. Come spring,
the dwarves of the Grey Towers go to war.”

Dolgan looked at Borric. “No one
has ever conquered our highland villages, not in the longest memory
of the dwarven folk. But it would prove an irritation for someone to
try. The dwarves will stand with the Kingdom, Your Lordship. You have
long been a friend to us, trading fairly and giving aid when asked.
And we have never run from battle when we were called.”

Arutha said, “And what of Stone
Mountain?”

Dolgan laughed “I thank His
Highness for the jog to my memory. Old Harthorn and his clans would
be sorely troubled should a good fight come and they were not
invited. I’ll send runners to Stone Mountain as well.”

Pug and Tomas watched while the Duke
wrote messages to Lyam and Fannon, then full stomachs and fatigue
began to lull them, despite their long sleep. The dwarves gave them
the loan of heavy cloaks, which they wrapped about pine boughs to
make comfortable mattresses. Occasionally Pug would turn in the
night, coming out of his deep sleep, and hear voices speaking low.
More than once he heard the name Mac Mordain Cadal.

Dolgan led the Duke’s party along
the rocky foothills of the Grey Towers. They had left at first light,
the dwarven chieftain’s sons departing for their own
destinations with their men. Dolgan walked before the Duke and his
son, followed by the puffing Kulgan and the boys. Five soldiers of
Crydee, those still able to continue, under the supervision of
Sergeant Gardan followed behind, leading two mules. Walking behind
the struggling magician, Pug said, “Kulgan, ask for a rest.
You’re all done in.”

The magician said, “No, boy, I’ll
be all right. Once into the mines, the pace will slow, and we should
be there soon.”

Tomas regarded the stocky figure of
Dolgan, marching along at the head of the party, short legs striding
along, setting a rugged pace. “Doesn’t he ever tire?”

Kulgan shook his head. “The
dwarven folk are renowned for their strong constitutions. At the
Battle of Carse Keep, when the castle was nearly taken by the Dark
Brotherhood, the dwarves of Stone Mountain and the Grey Towers were
on the march to aid the besieged. A messenger carried the news of the
castle’s imminent fall, and the dwarves ran for a day and a
night and half a day again to fall on the Brotherhood from behind
without any lessening of their fighting ability. The Brotherhood was
broken, never again organizing under a single leader.” He
panted a bit. “There was no idle boasting in Dolgan’s
appraisal of the aid forthcoming from the dwarves, for they are
undoubtedly the finest fighters in the West. While they have few
numbers compared to men, only the Hadati hillmen come close to their
equal as mountain fighters.”

Pug and Tomas looked with newfound
respect upon the dwarf as he strode along. While the pace was brisk,
the meal of the night before and another this morning had restored
the flagging energies of the boys, and they were not pushed to keep
up.

They came to the mine entrance,
overgrown with brush. The soldiers cleared it away, revealing a wide,
low tunnel. Dolgan turned to the company. “You might have to
duck a bit here and there, but many a mule has been led through here
by dwarven miners. There should be ample room.”

Pug smiled. The dwarves proved taller
than tales had led him to expect, averaging about four and a half to
five feet tall. Except for being short-legged and broad-shouldered,
they looked much like other people. It was going to be a tight fit
for the Duke and Gardan, but Pug was only a few inches taller than
the dwarf, so he’d manage.

Gardan ordered torches lit, and when
the party was ready, Dolgan led them into the mine. As they entered
the gloom of the tunnel, the dwarf said, “Keep alert, for only
the gods know what is living in these tunnels We should not be
troubled, but it is best to be cautious.”

Pug entered and, as the gloom enveloped
him, looked over his shoulder. He saw Gardan outlined against the
receding light. For a brief instant he thought of Carline, and
Roland, then wondered how she could seem so far removed so quickly,
or how indifferent he was to his rival’s attentions. He shook
his head, and his gaze returned to the dark tunnel ahead.

The tunnels were damp. Every once in a
while they would pass a tunnel branching off to one side or the other
Pug peered down each as he passed, but they were quickly swallowed up
in gloom. The torches sent flickering shadows dancing on the walls,
expanding and contracting as they moved closer or farther from each
other, or as the ceiling rose or fell. At several places they had to
pull the mules’ heads down, but for most of their passage there
was ample room.

Pug heard Tomas, who walked in front of
him, mutter, “I’d not want to stray down here; I’ve
lost all sense of direction.” Pug said nothing, for the mines
had an oppressive feeling to him.

After some time they came to a large
cavern with several tunnels leading out. The column halted, and the
Duke ordered watches to be posted. Torches were wedged in the rocks
and the mules watered. Pug and Tomas stood with the last watch, and
Pug thought a hundred times that shapes moved just outside the fire’s
glow. Soon guards came to replace them, and the boys joined the
others, who were eating. They were given dried meat and biscuits to
eat. Tomas asked Dolgan, “What place is this?”

The dwarf puffed on his pipe “It
is a glory hole, laddie. When my people mined this area, we fashioned
many such places When great runs of iron, gold, silver, and other
metals would come together, many tunnels would be joined. And as the
metals were taken out, these caverns would be formed. There are
natural ones down here as large, but the look of them is different.
They have great spires of stone rising from the floor, and others
hanging from the ceiling, unlike this one. You’ll see one as we
pass through.”

Tomas looked above him. “How high
does it go?”

Dolgan looked up. “I can’t
rightly say. Perhaps a hundred feet, perhaps two or three times as
much. These mountains are rich with metals still, but when my
grandfather’s grandfather first mined here, the metal was rich
beyond imagining. There are hundreds of tunnels throughout these
mountains, with many levels upward and downward from here Through
that tunnel there”—he pointed to another on the same
level as the floor of the glory hole—”lies a tunnel that
will join with another tunnel, then yet another. Follow that one, and
you’ll end up in the Mac Bronin Alroth, another abandoned mine.
Beyond that you could make your way to the Mac Owyn Dur, where
several of my people would be inquiring how you managed entrance into
their gold mine.” He laughed “Though I doubt you could
find the way, unless you were dwarven born.”

He puffed at his pipe, and the balance
of the guards came over to cat. Dolgan said, “Well, we had best
be on our way.”

Tomas looked startled. “I thought
we were stopping for the night.”

“The sun is yet high in the sky,
laddie. There’s half the day left before we sleep.”

“But I thought . . .”

“I know. It is easy to lose track
of time down here, unless you have the knack of it.”

They gathered together their gear and
started off again. After more walking they entered a series of
twisting, turning passages that seemed to slant down. Dolgan
explained that the entrance on the east side of the mountains was
several hundred feet lower than on the west, and they would be moving
downward most of the journey.

Later they passed through another of
the glory holes, smaller than the last, but still impressive for the
number of tunnels leading from it. Dolgan picked one with no
hesitation and led them through.

Soon they could hear the sound of
water, coming from ahead. Dolgan said, over his shoulder, “You’ll
soon see a sight that no man living and few dwarves have ever seen.”