The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5) (12 page)

Miraculously, instead of slipping off the rope, Ascilius suddenly felt Elerian steady beneath him. Opening his eyes, he was about to advise Elerian to proceed with greater caution when his companion suddenly began to run over the thin cord beneath his feet, stepping as surely as if he trod a broad walkway. Eyes opened wide in horror, Ascilius felt his tongue suddenly freeze in his mouth, and his much-abused heart race uncontrollably in his chest. For the second time in the space of a few heartbeats, he was certain that at any moment he and Elerian would fall to their deaths.

Racing sure footedly along the slender rope beneath his feet, Elerian’s eyes gleamed with pleasure, for he felt as if he were flying through the air. From the rigidity of Ascilius’s body and the strength of his grip, he knew that his companion was terrified, but that only added to his enjoyment of the situation. He considered pretending to stumble again but then reluctantly discarded the idea.

“He might faint this time, creating a dangerous situation for both of us,” thought Elerian regretfully to himself. He had barely completed the thought before reaching the railing to which the grappling hook was fastened. Leaping lightly down, he let go of Ascilius’s legs, depositing the Dwarf on the floor of the balcony. The feel of solid stone beneath his feet immediately restored Ascilius to himself, transforming his terror to anger.

“You are mad!” he said to Elerian in a horrified voice. “You could have killed both of us.”

“Don’t tell me you were afraid,” replied Elerian raising his eyebrows in pretended surprise.

“Nothing frightens me except your perverse sense of humor,” replied Ascilius angrily. His eyes suddenly narrowed. “Did you stumble on purpose?” he asked suspiciously.

“I thought it might impress your friends,” replied Elerian, his eyes gleaming with laughter. When a vein began to throb in Ascilius’s forehead and his powerful hands began to clench and unclench, Elerian held himself ready to leap from the balcony back onto the rope where he would be safe from the Dwarf. “They are all watching you, you know,” he reminded Ascilius.

Breathing deeply to calm himself, Ascilius turned toward the road and saw hundreds of Dwarves cheering and shouting encouragement.

“I will strangle you in private at the first opportunity,” he muttered to Elerian as he unclenched his hands and waved back.

“There will not be a later if we cannot get someone to open this door,” replied Elerian, undaunted by Ascilius’s threat.

“They will open it or I will beat it down,” growled Ascilius as he drew Fulmen from his belt. Imagining that the small steel door was Elerian’s head, he began to rain down blows on its upper half. Each time Fulmen struck the door, there was a bright flash of silver white light, and a hollow boom rang out until it seemed as if a thunderstorm had broken on the mountainside. As it shivered on its hinges under Ascilius’s terrific assault, dents began to appear in the door’s hardened and magically protected steel surface. Abruptly a narrow slot opened in the upper part of the door. Breathing heavily, Ascilius ceased his assault on the portal.

“Who beats on this door?” a deep voice asked nervously through the slot.

“Ascilius of Ennodius,” replied Ascilius at once.

“I recognize the name but not the face,” said the Dwarf behind the door in a suspicious voice. “Have you any proof this is not some stratagem of the enemy. We know there are shape changers among them.”

“In what inn did Ascilius defeat Gavros, son of Baldur in arm wrestling?” abruptly asked another voice.

“The Red Pony,” answered Ascilius immediately. “I won twenty silver coins on that match.”

A brief rattle of bolts being drawn back and the clang of crossbars being removed followed Ascilius’s answer. Then the door suddenly flew open and a powerful Dwarf rushed out to seize Ascilius in a bear hug.

“Where did you spring from old friend,” shouted the Dwarf. “An eagle must have carried you here.”

“I came across this rope, Gavros,” replied Ascilius, pointing with his left hand to the cord fastened to the balcony railing after his friend released him. Ascilius did not seem to think it important to mention to Gavros that he had been carried across the ravine by Elerian, for he left out that detail.

“You must have the courage of a lion,” replied Gavros in an admiring voice. “Just the thought of stepping on that thin strand makes my head spin.”

“It was nothing,” replied Ascilius modestly. “I have always had a head for heights you know.”

“Is your companion well Ascilius?” asked Gavros abruptly. “He seems to be having a fit of some kind.”

From behind Gavros’s broad back, Ascilius frowned at Elerian who was doing his best to suppress a fit of silent laughter.

“The years that he spent in the Goblins’ mines have affected his wits,” he said blandly to Gavros. “He will recover his senses in a moment.”

The cheering Dwarves who filled the ridge road from curb to curb now attracted Gavros’s attention. “You have retaken the castella,” he said in amazement to Ascilius.

“Yes, it has been an eventful night,” replied Ascilius. “Is the passageway from the stables to the city still open, Gavros? Soon hundreds of wagons from Ennodius will start arriving in the stables of the castella.”

“Wagons can no longer enter the passageway, for we have made it into a trap for the Goblins, rigging it to collapse if the outside gate is forced, but your people can still enter on foot if they are careful,” replied Gavros. “We can go down and open the doors now after which I will launch an attack from the city gates to keep the Goblins’ attention away from the fortress until all of your people are inside.”

“Have you that much authority now?” asked Ascilius in surprise.

“I was given command all of the city forces after Boldus fell defending the castella,” replied Gavros somberly as he turned and entered the passageway behind the balcony door. As Gavros turned his back, Elerian removed the spell which held the rope stretched across the ravine rigid. He then raised his right arm and sent a calling spell across the gulf, the charm striking Acris precisely on its hilt. When he saw the sword suddenly appear in Elerian’s right hand, Ascilius frowned darkly as he realized that Elerian had tricked him into crossing the ravine over the rope.

“You said it was too far for a spell,” he said softly to Elerian, his voice quivering with indignation.

“No, I said it was far enough that I might miss,” replied Elerian innocently as he coiled the now limp rope hanging from the balcony rail. “If you throttle me in front of all the Dwarves on the road, it will raise awkward questions in their minds,” he said with a maddening smile when he noticed that Ascilius’s powerful fingers had begun to twitch.

Ascilius looked across the ravine where hundreds of pairs of eyes were fixed on him and Elerian. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he waved and received more cheers in response.

“Just wait until we are alone,” he growled softly to Elerian as he turned and entered the tunnel behind him.

“By then, I will have thought of something else to distract him,” thought Elerian, his eyes gleaming with laughter as he followed Ascilius and Gavros through the third level of Galenus to the great ramp that rose up through the center of the city. Every tunnel they traveled through was lit bright as day by mage lights hung from the ceilings, but there were few Dwarves about to note their passage. The Goblins’ siege appeared to have cast a pall over the city, causing most of its inhabitants to remain closeted in their homes.

Gavros quickly led Ascilius and Elerian down the ramp and through the stables on the first level of the city until they stood before a set of double doors located in the southeast wall of the stables.

“Open the doors,” he commanded the two surprised gate guards. Crossbars were hastily removed and the great shot bolts holding the doors closed were drawn back. One of the sentries handed Gavros a mage light set in a wire cage that was attached to a wrought iron staff.

“Follow me and touch nothing,” Gavros advised Ascilius and Elerian. When the two companions followed the Dwarf into the dark tunnel behind the doors, Elerian’s third eye opened, revealing a line of shimmering columns of golden light marching away down the center of the passageway. In the center of each column was a darker, barely visible cylindrical shape.

“A line of stone supports, delicately balanced and hidden by an illusion spell, supports the ceiling above us which has been made thin as an eggshell and then magically hardened,” explained Gavros to the two companions. “Resting out of sight on the roof of the passageway are tons of stone which will fall and fill the entire tunnel if even one post is dislodged.”

 “A clever trap,” remarked Ascilius to Gavros. Although Ascilius appeared to have forgotten his earlier anger, Elerian was still careful to stay out of his reach.

An ancient Dwarf with snowy locks and beard now entered the passageway. When he raised his right hand, Elerian saw a small golden orb fly from his fingers with his magical eye. The spell struck the first post and then leaped to the next until the entire line of columns was engulfed in a cloak of golden light. When Elerian’s third eye closed, he saw a line of fragile appearing stone posts running down the center of the passageway, stripped of the illusion spell which had made them invisible before. Inlaid in each post was a small silvery glyph.

“The same magic which concealed the forest road was used to conceal these posts,” thought Elerian to himself. “I will squeeze the secret of the glyphs out of Ascilius as soon as time permits,” he promised himself.

Keeping close to the left wall of the passageway, Gavros now led the way to the end of the tunnel, followed by Ascilius and Elerian.

“I would rather walk the rope over the ravine blindfolded than traverse this tunnel with my eyes open,” thought Elerian uneasily to himself as he walked behind Ascilius. The weight of the rock above him was almost palpable, and it seemed to him that he could hear the ceiling groan under the weight of the stone it supported.

After Gavros and Ascilius removed the crossbars and drew back the bolts that held the doors into the castella closed, Ascilius thrust open the right hand door, coming face to face with Falco and several of his Dwarves.

“Just in time,” said Falco to Ascilius, flashing his ready smile. “The first of the wagons is already here.”

Looking over Ascilius’s right shoulder, Elerian saw yellow lantern lights in the distance, their bright rays illuminating a steady stream of Dwarves, ponies, and wagons pouring into the stables from the hidden tunnel in the east wall of the fortress.

“Your people will have to abandon their wagons and anything that they cannot carry on their backs,” said Gavros regretfully to Ascilius. “I will send guides with lights to help them through the passageway, but then I must leave you to lead the sortie from the front gates of the city. If all goes well I will meet with you in the stables of Galenus when the battle is over.”

“Elerian and I can help you fight,” volunteered Ascilius as he clasped right forearms with Gavros.

“Better that you remain here and see that all goes smoothly,” replied Gavros firmly. “Remember, a single, inadvertent thrust against one of the pillars will bring the whole passageway down.” Turning on his heel, he disappeared into the tunnel behind him.

Leaving Ascilius and Falco to bring their people into the city, Elerian returned to the passageway above the gates to the castella. It was thick now with Dwarves shooting crossbow quarrels through the grates set in the floor above the tunnel between the inner and outer gates. A rhythmic, hollow booming sound filled the air as Trolls battered the inner gate with great hammers. Screams and a wild howling welled up through the openings in the floor answered by war cries from the bearded lips of the Dwarves, their dark eyes inflamed by the desire to slaughter their enemies. The bloody scene struck no chord within Elerian, filling him instead with melancholy, for it seemed to him that a dark shadow drifted silently through it, death creeping about looking for its next victim.

“How many more will fall before this night is over?” he wondered sadly to himself as he stepped up to one of the tall arrow slits that penetrated the outside wall of the passageway. In the distance, Elerian saw the gates of the city suddenly swing open. Led by Gavros, hundreds of Dwarves issued from the passageway behind the doors, shouting war cries. When they reached the front lines of the enemy forces, the Dwarves linked shields and began driving the Goblins and mutare opposing them farther away from the gates of the city while behind the shield wall they had formed, hundreds more Dwarves rained down crossbow quarrels on the enemy, taking a heavy toll of their numbers. Alerted by the din of battle, Sarius, who still stood in the entrance of his dark pavilion, looked toward the city and cursed when he saw the open gates and the advancing Dwarves.

“The fall of the castella and the arrival of a new leader have emboldened the little people,” he thought angrily to himself. “They think to overwhelm my forces from behind, but I will soon teach them that they have overreached themselves.” Shouting for his messengers, Sarius gave orders for his army to return. With many a muttered curse at the capriciousness of their leader’s orders, the Goblin horde reversed itself, rushing back to engage the Dwarf forces that had emerged from Galenus. The siege engines and the ram followed more slowly.

“Take care Gavros,” thought Elerian anxiously to himself from his vantage point in the castella, for it seemed to him that the Dwarf commander now ran the risk of venturing too far from the city gates, to the point where his forces might be surrounded by the thousands of mutare and Wood Goblins rushing back from the castella. At precisely the right moment, however, the crafty Gavros suddenly gave the order to draw back. To the accompaniment of repeated horn blasts, his Dwarves retreated inside the gates to the city, slamming them shut in the faces of the howling hordes of changelings that pursued them.