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Chapter 11.
A Question Of Faith End Of The Tuunel.
The Man-Eating Stalig Mite.
Flint and Tanis edged their way through the pa.s.s that wasn't so much as a pa.s.s as a large gap. Tanis envisioned the refu-gees trying to cross this rocky, narrow defile, their children in tow, and he hoped fervently it wouldn't come to that. They spent most of the morning navigating among the boulders and scrambling over rock slides, finally emerging after hours of toil on the other side.
Using his battle-axe, Flint pointed. "Well, there you are, Half-Elven," he said. "Thorbardin."
Tanis looked down at the landscape spread beneath him. Ash-gray plains led into dark green foothills, thick with pine trees, from which soared the gray blank face of the tallest mountain peak in the Kharolis chain.
Tanis regarded the mountain in bleak dismay. "There's nothing there."
"Aye," said Flint in gloomy satisfaction. "Just like I told you."
The dwarf had indeed told him, but Flint had a tendency to exaggerate and embellish his tales a mite now and then, particularly those tales having to do with the wrongs, perceived or otherwise, suffered by his people. Search as Tanis might, he could see no sign of anything resembling a gate on the mountain side or even a place where one might put a gate.
"Are you sure Thorbardin is there?" Tanis asked.
Flint rested his weight on the battle-axe and gazed steadily at the mountain.
"I was born and raised hereabouts. The bones of my ancestors lie on the plains below us. They died because our cousins closed the gates of that mountain on them. Cloudseeker casts a shadow over us all. Each and every one of us hill dwarves sees it loom large in his dreams. I'm not likely to forget this place."
Flint spit on the ground. "That's Thorbardin."
Tanis sighed deeply, scratched his beard and asked himself, "What in the Abyss do I do now?"
He had no hope at all that he would be successful in his mission. Neither he nor Flint had any idea where to even start looking for the lost gate to the dwarven kingdom. They could spend years traipsing across the face of Cloudseeker. The greedy and the desperate had been searching for this gate for three hundred years and never found it. There was no reason to think he and Flint would be the ones to succeed where so many had failed.
Tanis considered giving up. He went so far as to half-turn, look back the way they'd come, and even take a step in that direction, but he found he couldn't do it. He could not admit defeat, not yet.
Flint stood leaning on the battle-axe, watching his friend turn first one way and then the other. When Tanis turned around again, Flint nodded.
"We're to keep going then," he said.
"You know as well as I do that it's only a matter of time before Verminaard attacks," Tanis said, adding in frustration, "There must must be a way inside Thorbardin! Just because no one else has discovered it..." be a way inside Thorbardin! Just because no one else has discovered it..."
"After all, the G.o.ds are with us," Flint observed.
Tanis eyed his friend to see if the dwarf had spoken sarcastically or if he was serious. Tanis couldn't tell. The dwarf's expression was unreadable, much of it hidden behind his full beard and s.h.a.ggy eyebrows.
"Do you believe the G.o.ds are with us?" Tanis asked. "Do you believe what Elistan and Goldmoon have been teaching?"
"Hard to say," said Flint, and he appeared uncomfortable talking about it. He cast Tanis a sidelong glance. "I take you don't?"
"I want to." Tanis shook his head. "But I can't."
"We've seen miracles," Flint pointed out. "Riverwind was burnt to a crisp by a black dragon. Elistan was brought back from the brink of death."
"And Verminaard brought back from the dead, as well," said Tanis dryly. "I've seen Raistlin scatter a few rose petals and cause goblins to fall sound asleep at his feet."
"That's different," Flint growled.
"Why? Because it's magic? Magic or no, one could call such things 'miraculous'."
"I call them accursed," Flint muttered.
"All I know for certain," Tanis said, smiling, "is that the only being who walks with me is you, my friend." He clapped Flint on the shoulder. "I could not ask for a better companion. G.o.ds included."
Flint flushed in pleasure, but he only said gruffly that Tanis was a silly a.s.s and he shouldn't talk in such a flippant manner about things beyond his understanding.
"I think we should keep going," Tanis said. "Raistlin may find the key to the gate in Skullcap."
"Do you think he's planning to bring it to us if he does?" Flint snorted in derision. "And you claim you don't believe in miracles."
The two started what Tanis feared would be a slow and laborious journey down the side of the mountain when Flint came to a sudden halt.
"Would you look at this," he said.
Tanis looked and marveled. It wasn't a miracle. It was a road. Built by dwarves, centuries old, the road had been carved out of the side of the mountain. Winding back and forth across the face of the mountain, the road led down and into the foothills then climbed back up the other side. All the refugees had to do was make it this far, and the way after that would be smooth.
"Provided this road leads to the gate," said Flint, reading Tanis's thoughts.
"It must," said Tanis. "Where else would it go?"
"Just what people have been asking themselves these last three hundred years," Flint remarked dryly.
Sturm, Caramon, and Raistlin, traveling beneath the mountain, found their journey long, tedious and uneventful. The area was p.r.o.ne to earthquakes, but the dwarf-built tunnel had survived hundreds of these shocks almost unscathed. Occasionally they noticed places where the walls had cracks, and here and there a small rock slide impeded their path, but that was all.
The tunnel ran straight, no twists or turns. It was neither haunted nor otherwise inhabited. They walked for several hours and made good time. Raistlin was again strangely energized. He set a swift pace, ranging ahead of his brother and Sturm, his staff thumping the tunnel floor, his red robes swirling about his ankles. When the other two called a halt to take a breather, Raistlin would caustically remind them that lives depended on their progress.
Down here in the darkness, with no way to tell time, none of them had any idea how long they walked or how many miles they traveled. Every so often, they came upon marks on the wall that appeared to be some type of indicator of distance. The marks were in dwarven, however, and none of them knew what they meant.
They traveled so long that Caramon began to secretly wonder if they might not have missed Skullcap altogether. Perhaps they had walked across the continent and would emerge to find themselves in some distant realm-the far southern reaches of Ice Wall, maybe. He was deep in his imaginings, dreaming of vast expanses of white wastes, when Sturm called their attention to the increased amount of debris and rubble in the pa.s.sage.
"We must be nearing the end," said Raistlin. "The destruction we see is a result of the blast that leveled the fortress."
"What do we do if the blast destroyed the tunnel?" Sturm asked.
"We must hope that it was protected," Raistlin said. "As you can see, the beams shoring up the ceiling have not been damaged. That is a good sign."
They trudged wearily on. The light of Sturm's torch and Raistlin's staff did not extend far, and Raistlin almost walked headlong into a stone wall before he realized it was there. He came to an abrupt halt, shining the light this way and that.
"I hope this is a hidden door like that other one," said Caramon. "Otherwise we've come all this way for nothing."
"You have no faith in me, do you, Pheragas?" Raistlin murmured. Holding his staff to light his task, he began to search the wall for marks.
"Who is this Pheragas?" Caramon muttered.
"Probably better you don't know," Sturm said grimly.
"Found it!" Raistlin announced. He pointed, and there was the same mark that they had seen on the door at the other end-the dwarven rune for 'door.'
He pressed on the rune. As before, the mark depressed, sliding into the wall. There came a grinding sound, then a cracking sound as the stone separated, forming the outline of a doorway. This time the mechanism worked. The heavy door rumbled back so fast that it almost ran Raistlin down, and he was forced to scramble out of its way in a flurry of red robes, causing Sturm to pull at his mustaches to hide his smile.
The heavy door rumbled and screeched on the rusted tracks and flattened itself against the wall with a resounding boom that echoed back down the pa.s.sageway.
"Nothing like announcing our arrival," Sturm remarked.
"Hush!" Raistlin held up his hand.
"It's a little late for that," Caramon said, with a wink at Sturm.
Raistlin glared at him. "Take off your helm and you might find your brain inside! The sounds I hear are coming from out there." He pointed through the opening of the tunnel and, now that the echoes had faded, they could hear harsh shouts and the clash of arms.
Caramon and Sturm both drew their swords. Raistlin reached into his pouch.
"Dulak," he murmured, and the glow from his staff blinked out, leaving only Sturm's torch to light the way.
"What did you do that for?" Sturm demanded, adding grudgingly, "Much as I hate to admit it, we could use that light of yours."
"It is never wise to proclaim to your enemies that you are a wizard," Raistlin said quietly.
"Magic works best by stealth and darkness, is that it?" Sturm said.
"C'mon, you two, cut it out," Caramon said.
They stood unmoving, listening to the sounds of battle that were distant, far away.
"Someone else is interested in the secrets of Skullcap," Sturm said at last.
Raistlin stirred at this. "I'm going to go find out what is happening. You two can stay here."
"No," said Sturm. "We all go together."
Moving cautiously, holding his torch in one hand and his sword in the other, Sturm walked through the door. Raistlin came after him and Caramon brought up the rear, keeping a look-out over his shoulder.
Traveling down the dark tunnel, Ta.s.slehoff Burrfoot reached the conclusion that if he never saw another rock in his life, it would be too soon. At first, tramping along a secret tunnel underneath a mountain was exciting. A skeletal warrior might be lurking just around the corner, ready to leap out and throttle them. A wight might decide to try to suck out their souls, or whatever it was that wights did to people.
Tika, on the other hand, didn't appear to find the tunnel in the least exciting. She was nervous and unhappy.
Tas considered it his duty to try keep up her spirits and so he livened the journey by telling her all the gruesome, creepy, scary stories he'd ever heard about the things that lived in secret tunnels underneath mountains. Far from having the desired effect, the stories seemed to simply plunge Tika deeper in gloom. Once she actually turned around and tried to smack the kender. Accustomed to this sort of behavior in his companions, Tas ducked in time. He decided to change the subject.
"How long do you suppose we've been walking, Tika?"
"Weeks, I should imagine," she said glumly.
"I think it's only been a few hours," Tas said.
"Oh, what do you know?" she snapped.
"I know it certainly is boring," said the kender. He kicked at a rock, sent it bounding over the stone floor. "Do we have any more food left?"
"You just ate!"
"That seems like days ago!" Tas waved his arms. "You said yourself we've been walking for weeks..."
"Oh, shut up-" Tika began then froze in place.
A hideous sound thundered down the pa.s.sageway-a loud rumbling, accompanied by shrill screeching. The ground shook, and dust fell from the walls. The rumbling and screeching lasted for several heart-thudding moments, then ended abruptly.
"What... what was that?" Tika quavered.
Tas reflected. "I think it was a Stalig Mite." he said in hushed tones.
"A what kind of mite?" Tika whispered, her hands shaking so that the flame of the torch bounced all over the cavern.
"A Stalig Mite," Tas said solemnly. "I've heard stories about them. They live in caves, and they're huge and quite ferocious. I'm sorry to tell you this, Tika, but you should prepare yourself for the worst. That sound we heard was probably the Stalig Mite devouring Caramon."
"No!" Tika cried wildly. "I don't believe-" She paused, eying the kender. "Wait a minute. I've I've never heard of a Stalig Mite." never heard of a Stalig Mite."
"You should really get out more, Tika."
"You mean stalagmite!" Tika was so mad she very nearly threw the torch at him.
"That's what I said." Tas was hurt. "Stalig Mite. Found only in caves."
"A stalagmite is a rock formation found in caves, you doork.n.o.b! What do you mean scaring me like that?" Tika wiped sweat from her forehead.
"Are you sure?" Tas was loathe to give up the idea of a ferocious man-eating Stalig Mite.
"Yes, I'm sure." Tika sounded very cross.
"Well, if that noise wasn't made by a Stalig Mite devouring Caramon, then what was it?" Tas asked practically.
Tika had no answer for that, and she wished he hadn't brought it up. She turned around. "Maybe we should go back..."
"We've been back, Tika," Tas pointed out. "We know what's back there-a lot of very dark darkness-and we don't don't know what's up ahead. Maybe Caramon hasn't been eaten by a rock formation, but he and his brother could still be in trouble and need our help. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we-you and I-rescued Caramon and Raistlin? They'd respect us then. No more pulling my topknot or slapping my hand when all I wanted to do was to touch his stupid old staff." know what's up ahead. Maybe Caramon hasn't been eaten by a rock formation, but he and his brother could still be in trouble and need our help. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we-you and I-rescued Caramon and Raistlin? They'd respect us then. No more pulling my topknot or slapping my hand when all I wanted to do was to touch his stupid old staff."
Tika envisioned Raistlin humbled and meek, thanking her profusely for saving his life, and Caramon hugging her tightly, telling her over and over how proud he was of her.
Tas was right. Behind them was nothing but darkness.
Fearful but resolute, Tika continued on her way through the tunnel, accompanied by Ta.s.slehoff, who was hoping Tika turned out to be wrong about the Stalig Mites.