Trek to Kraggen-Cor (21 page)

"Why, you've hit the nail right square, Bomar!" exclaimed Cotton in surprise, seeing the separation in a different light. "We are still in the same story together. And I've got to start living my part of it, looking at things through happy eyes, not sad ones, so that when we get together again, well, I'll have some of them bright jewels to show him."

Had it been an overcast day, perhaps Cotton's somber mood would have clung longer, but the Sun was shining in a high blue sky, and the Warrow's spirits rose with every turn of the waggon wheel, until they were as bright as the day. "Bomar," added the Warrow after a long while, "I do hope that Mister Perry has someone as wise as you to set him right about being apart from a friend." A smile flickered over Bomar's face, but he said nought; and the waggon rolled on.

The column moved across the prairie all that afternoon, finally coming to a halt at dusk. They had covered some fourteen miles, and in the distance before them they could see the foothills rising up to meet the mountains— though where the column had stopped was still well out on the plains.

The cook-waggon rolled off the road and into the bordering grass and heather, parking beside a green food-waggon. Bomar and Cotton jumped down and were joined by eight bustling Dwarves, each of whom began to work at tasks under Bomar's directions: Nare made three fires using wood brought in the waggon from the river-border forest, for Bomar as well as the other cook-wain drivers had known the column would stop on the open treeless prairie, and each had cut, loaded, and hauled a supply of firewood from the margins of the Argon to use in preparing the evening meal. Caddor and Belor filled great teakettles with water from the barrels, while Naral set up hearth-arms to hang the kettles over the fires; and Oris, Crau, Funda, and Littor began preparing a vat of stew.

Cotton unhitched Brownie and Downy and led them a short way out into the lush prairie grass where he fed them some grain, then hobbled them to graze. He stood and talked to each horse awhile, stroking them, and then went back to the waggon.

When he arrived at the cook-site, the pots and kettles were bubbling and boiling merrily, and supper was on its way. Cotton pitched in and helped

with the chores that remained. In about an hour the meal was ready, and the cook-crew served stew and honey-sweetened tea to one hundred or so hungry warriors, and to one lone scout who rode in after dark. Before sitting down to a meal of their own, Bomar's crew set a pair of large kettles of water to boil over two of the fires; they would be used by the warriors to wash and rinse their mess kits.

Cotton was just dishing up some stew for himself when Durek and Rand strode into the circle of firelight. "Well, Friend Cotton," rasped Durek, "though in your case it will not be critical til we reach the Dusken Door, the tail end of the train is a strange place for one of my pathfinders to be." Laughing, they sat down for a meal together.

When Cotton went to bed that night, after helping Bomar's crew clean up, he noted that the Dwarf Army had set up a picket of sentries; the buccan felt a twinge of regret that he wouldn't be standing his turn at ward; he had come to enjoy seeing the dawn sky slowly change from black to grey to purple to pink and orange, joyously heralding the arrival of the Sun.

The next morning Cotton was awakened by the sound of Bomar and his crew rattling pans and kettles, preparing the breakfast meal. Cotton jumped up and discovered that he had not missed dawn after all, for it was still dark; and as the buccan was to learn in the days to come, Bomar's day started early and ended late. The Warrow helped Bomar with the work, and watched the sky celebrate the coming of the golden orb; and the buccan served warriors as the Sun tipped over the rim of the world.

Following breakfast, Cotton went to Brownie and Downy. After greeting them with an apple treat, he removed their hobbles and led them back to the waggon and fed and watered them. Then he hitched them to the yellow wain while Bomar's crew loaded the utensils aboard. Soon the command to march came echoing down the line, and the cook-waggon pulled back onto the road.

In midmorning the Army entered the foothills and began slowly climbing higher as they moved up the shallow slopes of the lower flanks of the mountains. Cotton noted that in these uplands the leaves for the most part had lost their bright colors and had become a uniform rich brown, with just a few reds and yellows stubbornly remaining. And many of the leaves had fallen, to crackle and crunch and swirl 'neath tramping feet.

The march continued on through this umber woodland for the rest of the day, stopping a few moments each hour for a brief rest. During these stops Cotton would finger his sword and think of other days. It was early dusk when the Legion came to their final stop; they had marched some twenty-nine miles since dawn.

That evening Cotton again took a meal with Durek and Rand, but the Man and Dwarf brought with them three surprise guests—Grau, Rolf, and Wrall: Baru's sons; the head of the column had stopped at the Passwardcn's

stone cottage. As they ate, their conversation turned to the Crestan Pass. "Father says you have come just in time," said Rolf, "for he feels snow deep in his bones—has felt it these past five days, ever since we were up in the pass clearing away the scree from the slide our Lord Kian told us of. And Father says each day the feeling grows stronger: the weather must soon break."

Durek squinted through the dark in the direction of the pass. "In days agone we did not concern ourselves with the snows; the Mountain tops could be covered with ten fathoms or a hundred of snow, but that affected us not— for then we knew the way under."

"Under?" asked Grau. "Do you speak of the mythical pass beneath the mountain? Why, that's just a tale to amuse children."

"Nay," replied Durek, "the way is there. Though it is lost, it remains there still, hidden behind secret Chakka doors. These Mountains have many hidden entrances and exits which lead to the tunnels below. And here as in Kraggen-cor the caverns reach from one side of the range to the other."

"Hey!" exclaimed Cotton, "speaking of secret doors, I just remembered: Bosky legends warn about Ruck-doors under the Grimwall. They say Modru's Mines are down there, behind hidden Ruck-gates. I wonder if any-of those Spawn-doors are nearabout."

"The Rutch-doors onto these slopes were destroyed by my forefathers," responded Grau. "We are told that the Baeron fought the Rutcha and Drokha and Ogru-Trolls in the hills and mountains above Arden and Delon for many years. At last all of the Wrg-doors into the passes also were found and destroyed; that I have always believed to be true; but never did I deem the tale of the way under the mountain to be true til now."

"Even if we knew where it was, it'd be trouble, wouldn't it?" asked Cotton. "I mean, well, what about the maggot-folk? Aren't they still down there waiting?"

"No," replied Wrall. "The last of the Spawn were driven away by my forebearers in the time of the Winter War."

"Then why don't we just hunt up the Dwarf-doors to the way under and go that way, instead of worrying about snow?" asked Cotton.

"I am told that the secret doors of the Dwarven Folk are hidden too cunningly," answered Rand. "Unless you know exactly where they are, you'll never find them; they look just like unbroken rock walls, or large boulders, or even great slabs lying on the slopes. So, Cotton, it isn't just a matter of simply hunting up the doors, for we don't even know where these portals are or what they look like; and we can't pry up every rock and boulder on the mountainside, or tap with hammers on every rock wall for hollow sounds. We'd be here til the mountains were gone before we'd find even one door."

"Aye. Prince Rand has the right of it," growled Durek. "Once the way is lost, it is usually lost forever. Without guidance, the entrances remain hidden. Even with instructions, sometimes the way cannot be found. Even so,

were we to stumble accidentally onto a door, still we would not pass under the Mountain, for we have no 'Brega Scroll' here to guide the way through."

"Say!" exclaimed Cotton, "I just thought of something: are we going to have trouble finding the Dusk-Door? Oh, I know the Raven Book says the Door had steps and columns and such, but, if Dwarf-doors are impossible to find, what about the door we're going to?"

"Worry not, Friend Cotton," replied Durek, "the Dusken Door was meant to be found. It was made as part of an old trade route, and the way to it is well marked. It is not hidden, except perhaps now by stonework rubble."

"Well that's good," said Cotton, " 'cause I'd hate knocking on stone walls with hammers and prying up slabs with crowbars for the rest of my life." They all enjoyed a hearty laugh at Cotton's words, especially Durek, who found the image of a Waeran scrambling over stone with hammers and pry bars hilarious.

Though the talk was lively and the company pleasant, at last Durek and Rand had to leave to see to the roadside encampment and to plan the morrow's march. Reluctantly, Grau, Rolf, and Wrall also left, for they knew that it had been a long day's journey for their friends, and rest was needed for the upcoming trek. After the visitors were gone, Cotton pitched in to help Bomar and the rest of the crew clean up the utensils, and he bedded down about an hour later.

The Army got under way again shortly after sunrise. Soon Cotton's waggon rolled past the stone cottage, and he waved goodbye to Baru, Grau, Rolf, and Wrall, who called, "Good fortune!" And the Baeron watched as the column disappeared from sight in the wooded hills.

The march twined through the uplands, winding higher and higher up-slope. The mountains now towered above the Host, the stone ramparts impervious to the many-legged creature crawling up the flanks. The Sun, too, climbed up the mountain, warming the escarpment above. Hie Army tramped upward along the road, which wove back and forth through the mountain forests. As the column climbed higher, the woods slowly changed from the lowland trees, such as oak and maple, to upland wood, such as aspen and other poplars, and at last to the evergreens of the high country.

It was midafternoon when the Army came to the last thick stand below the timberline, and the Legion was called to a halt. They had covered eighteen miles of upward march, and though there was daylight still, the trek was halted, for from here it was twenty miles of open mountain before timber would be reached again, and the nights of November were too bitter upon the open crests to permit travel after dark, and so camp was made carl\

With a cry of horns, all of Brytta's scouts, too—point, flank, and rear— were called in to join the column at camp; all, that is, except for the Army's advance eyes: four Vanadurin outriders: a lead scout named Hogon—who

had journeyed this way a year or so earlier—and three others, all of whom had ridden ahead and were even now crossing the range.

Cotton tethered the horses in the pines and returned to help build the fires. The Sun had passed behind the peaks, and a chill shadow lay over the land; but the encampment was much colder than the shadow would account for: a frigid iciness seeped down from the heights; borne on a raw drift of air that spilled from the summits and slid to the borders below. As evening approached, the drift became a breeze blowing downward. Cotton and others donned warmer clothes from their packs, but still the chill bit through, and the fires were built higher to provide more warmth.

An hour after sundown, the warriors had been fed and the supper cleanup was finished, though kettles of hot tea still remained over the cookfires as proof against the frigid cold. Cotton was just filling his cup when a Dwarf picket rang out a call—"Someone comes!"—and Cotton heard footsteps trotting up the road. As they sounded closer, Cotton could see in the firelight that it was a Man—it was Rolf!

"Rolf!" Cotton called. "Over here!" And the youth came winded to the fire.

Without speaking further, Cotton offered the panting young Man a cup of tea, but Rolf waved it away and croaked, "Water!" Far from being cold like those huddled around the campblaze, the youth was drenched with sweat from his run. Swiftly, Cotton dipped a cup into a water barrel and passed it to Rolf. The Man gulped the drink, gasping for air between draughts. After another cup and a few moments to catch his breath, he asked, "Where's Durek? A blizzard is coming, and he must be warned."

"Why, he's up front somewhere," answered Cotton, waving a hand up the road toward the mountain, and he watched as Rolf trotted away.

It was not quite an hour later that a Dwarf herald came through the night to each fire, finally arriving at Cotton's. "King Durek summons all Chief Captains and all who have travelled through the pass on other journeys to counsel him at midtrain," he announced to the group. And so Cotton, who had been through the Crestan Pass, stood to go—as did Bomar and Littor, both of whom had been over the mountains to Stonehill. Together the three walked toward the front of the long encampment, going nearly two miles to the midpoint of the column. There Durek had formed a Council circle.

Durek spoke to the gathering: "Rolf brings word from Baru. You must all hear, and prepare for what comes." And he indicated to Rolf—now wrapped in a blanket—that he was to speak.

"My father, Baru, says that a blizzard will be in the peaks ere noon tomorrow," announced the youth in a clear voice. He wetted a finger and held it up in the chill breeze. "That wind you feel is known as the breath of Waroo. To the Baeron children the story of Waroo is a hearthtale of a great white bear from the north with very cold breath who claws over the tops of the mountains to bring hard winters down onto the land. But upon growing older we

find that Waroo the Blizzard is much more deadly than any white bear—for when a bear stalks it can be fled from, or, at last resort, it can be slain, but a blizzard at best can only be endured, never killed. And when Waroo approaches, his breath flows coldly adown the Grimwall, and it signals the first blizzard. When Father felt Waroo blowing down below, we knew we had to warn you, and I came, for I am the swiftest.

"If you are to pass over the mountain, you, too, must move swiftly, for you have twenty miles of barren high rock to cross before the shelter of timber is reached. You cannot go in the night, for it is too cold, yet you cannot delay overlong, for the storm will strike sometime tomorrow.