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Chronicles of Arborell, Copyright Wayne Densley 2008 All Rights Reserved
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 In the absolute dark Mallen struggled against the power of the massive arms that held him and despaired at their strength. Held in a grip that he could not break he was dragged backwards, away from the sounds of the approaching Hordim, and into the confines of an ancient rift in the cavern's crumbling walls. Wide-eyed he waited, fully expecting the huge arms of his assailant to tense and crush the life from him, but it did not come. Instead, the arms relaxed and he was pushed further into their hiding place, deep within the recesses of the crack. Here they both waited as the Hordim crossed the wide space of the cavern towards them. Mallen could see nothing and dared not move as he listened intently for any sign of their discovery. Whoever was with him kept silent, his only sense of the man's enormous size his inability to move any further into the wide crack within which they hid.
In the dark Mallen waited. Out of sight, somewhere to the right of where they had gone to ground, a number of creatures were engaged in an urgent dispute. The young Kalborean could not understand what they were saying but he had no doubt that they were Hordim, and that they had found his tracks clearly impressed into the dust. In the cold and damp he could hear them kicking at the debris that littered the floor of the cave, and moving about in the darkness searching for him. To his surprise the Hresh did not venture any closer to their hiding place, instead they spent their time in argument, quarrelling loudly over some point of dispute, before turning about and moving back towards the tunnel from which they had emerged. When the sounds of the creatures had diminished into the passages beyond the man at Mallen's back spoke. His voice was deep and gave emphasis to his size, but his words were not belligerent.
"It is unfortunate that I needed to lay hand upon you Kalborean, but you were in some danger of discovery. I doubt that we could have fought off that many Hresh if you had."
Mallen pushed away from the presence and turned to face him. He could see nothing, the dark within the confines of the rift disguising completely the man's identity and purpose. He would not easily call this man friend until he was sure of his motives.
"I thank you for your help but you have me at a disadvantage. For reasons I do not understand you seem able to find your way within these caverns where I can see nothing. Give me your name and purpose here so that I might better understand why you accosted me."
The presence laughed quietly and moved past Mallen, making his way carefully towards the opening of the rift. As he passed he thrust something into Mallen's hands. It felt both metallic and somehow familiar. The man appeared to have little time for discussion or explanation.
"Place the nightglasses I have given you against your eyes and follow me. Here you are in my domain and if you wish to live it will be wise to do as I say. Now hurry, the Hresh will be back shortly and it will be better for us if we have moved on."
Mallen felt the object in his hands and realised that is was some type of spectacle, although of a construction that was unfamiliar to him. In the absolute dark it struck Mallen as being a strange thing to give to a man, and he considered for a moment that it might be some kind of jest, but the stranger seemed serious enough. He would put them on, as soon as he could work out how to do so. Without the benefit of sight it took a short time and he could hear the impatience of the stranger growing. The spectacles, or nightglasses as the stranger had called them, where heavy, possessing thick lenses of an unknown material, and a solid frame that extended around to the ears. He found also an elastic strapping attached to the frame that was strong enough to bind them closely against the head when put on. He fumbled about with them until he felt he had them in the right position and then placed them over his eyes. He could not help but exclaim in surprise as the cavern and his assailant were revealed to him.
Somehow the nightglasses cut through the impenetrable veil of the dark and exposed everything within the chamber as if it was bathed in a dull reddish glow. He turned from side to side and took in the expanse of the cavern and realised quickly how close he had come to falling to a gruesome end. Most of the floor of the cavern was missing, only a single bridge of stone spanning a wide chasm that fell away quickly on both sides. He could see clearly where he had stood when he had kicked away his lantern, and shuddered at how close he had been to the edge of the precipice. Two more steps and he would have disappeared into the depths of the chasm forever, never to see the light of day again.
His greatest surprise came when he turned to study the man who had so roughly hauled him out of danger. He was huge, a tower of a man who stood a good head taller than himself, and who was built as sturdy as a tree of the deep forest. It was impossible to tell much of his face, the nightglasses were not that revealing, but he could see that he wore a long hooded cloak of heavy leather and sported a short sword held securely in a scabbard at his belt. The man took him close to the place where he had been standing and pointed to a small plinth of stone that had been set upon the threshold of the stone bridge.
"We cannot cross here my young friend, the Hresh have placed a shieldstone to guard any further travel across the bridge. We will have to take another way."
The stone the stranger referred to sat squarely upon the bridge and seemed innocuous enough. It was crudely carved and Mallen could see nothing about it that warranted care.
"What does it do?" he asked.
The stranger did not answer, instead he selected a small pebble from the ground near his feet and flicked it carefully into the air above the artifact, about waist height. In a flash of light and smoke the pebble disappeared, its ashen remains exploding outwards before settling back to earth. It was clear to Mallen then that some type of deadly veil had been thrown about the entry to the bridge. His question had been answered.
Mallen followed without remark, he could not say why but there was something about the stranger's demeanour that demanded obedience. The man was as sure-footed as the Hresh as he negotiated a path through the debris of the cavern floor, and Mallen struggled to keep up as the stranger turned to the western edge of the chasm, and then followed its crumbling boundary into a series of smaller chambers that lay hidden by enormous buttresses of stone. Soon the Kalborean found himself within a long passage, following a sinuous path that led deep into the ancient stone. Twisting and turning, it searched further into the rock and Mallen found himself losing all sense of direction as the passage was met by other branching tunnels and chambers. Steadfastly Mallen followed until the stranger stopped and pointed to a natural arch of stone that was set into the right-hand side of the passage. Where he would have expected to see a further passage or chamber beyond, there was instead a solid wall of stone filling the archway. Mallen came to a halt by his side and watched as the stranger stood before the arch and waved his hand over its wet surface. Immediately the stone shimmered then dissolved away and the man stepped through. As he disappeared through the arch he called to Mallen.
"If you want answers they can be found here, but don't take too long making up your mind whether you should trust me or not. I am not a patient man."
Mallen followed the huge man beyond the archway and found himself within a large chamber fitted out as both living quarters and workroom. As he stepped over the threshold the stone behind him closed, leaving the wall once again as solid as it had been found. The chamber within was spacious, but cluttered with all manner of rock specimens and other artifacts. The furniture was sparse, the room dominated by a huge shelf of stone that had been fashioned into a work desk against one wall. Upon its upper surface Mallen could see great piles of papers, scrolls and a number of iron-strapped boxes crammed with metal objects and tools. Whatever the man's purpose within these cold passages he had obviously been here a long time. The young Kalborean turned to his new-found acquaintance and took off the glasses he had been given. The room was unlit by lamp or torch but illuminated instead by a strange yellowish glow that permeated the stone itself. Mallen could feel his face frowning in disbelief as he tried to understand the strangeness of what confronted him. It turned to amazement when he saw clearly for the first time the stranger's face.
"You're Dwarvendim?"
The Stranger smiled and nodded his head, "I see I have before me a man who has travelled the wider world eh? Yes, I am Dwarvendim, a loyal subject of the Stone Kings and currently residing here of my own free will." He put out a huge hand and waited for Mallen to accept it, "But those who know me call me Gremorgan."
Mallen took the big man's hand and shook it.
"I am Mallen Cael of Callenfrey, Metalsmith and as you can see a traveller in a world for which I am little prepared."
Gremorgan nodded his head once again and busied himself with putting flame to a large metal lantern that hung from the ceiling above them.
"Aye, it is a truth that you do not know your way here, but there are few that do. I should say that you might count yourself lucky that I happened upon you when I did. You were only moments away from meeting an untimely demise at the hands of the Hordim."
Mallen backed up and considered the Dwarvendim's words. It was true that in the dark of the cavern he would have had no defence against the Hordim, and he was grateful for the assistance he had been given, even if it was somewhat abrupt. He had many questions though, not the least a need to know what this man was doing here. For the moment however he decided it would be best to see what information the Dwarvendim might give freely.
Gremorgan took down the lantern from its fixture and began to refill it with oil. He stopped only for a moment to look Mallen squarely in the eyes. He had the air of someone who had not been around other people for some time and was trying to get used to the idea.
"I do not know why you are here Mallen Cael. The world is harsh enough out there without trying to find your way down here. When I saw you standing at the edge of the precipice I could only think that you were either a fool, or a man driven by some overwhelming need to take risks that no sane person would consider. Which of these you might be will no doubt become apparent with the passage of time. Would you like something to eat?"
Without waiting for Mallen to answer he swept away a pile of papers from a smaller bench in the centre of the chamber and began dragging boxes towards it. These where apparently going to serve as chairs.
"Please sit," he said and disappeared into the recesses of the chamber's northern wall. Mallen had not noticed it before but the chamber opened into a second room, half hidden behind a wall of stone. There he could hear Gremorgan busying himself with pan and pot, and before long the heady odours of cooking wafted out, filling the room with a thin steam of rich-smelling stew. As Mallen made himself comfortable he looked about the room with a little more care. The lantern burnt brightly above him and Gremorgan's living quarters were revealed to him in much greater detail. He knew a bit about metal ores and geology, it was a part of the knowledge of his trade, and he could make a good guess that the Dwarvendim was some kind of prospector or miner. Rock samples littered the floor and piles of old books were stacked untidily against one wall, a series of large-scale maps hung loosely from another. It was the man himself that intrigued him most though.
Gremorgan was a Dwarvendim and he had the build of one who lived in the Stone Kingdoms but his height was truly remarkable. It had been Mallen's experience that Dwarvendim stood less than shoulder height to most Kalboreans. What they lacked in stature they made up for in physical strength and they were well-known for the power they could bring to battle. This Dwarvendim however, stood at least a head taller than himself and had maintained the strong physique of one of his kind. His hair was long and unkempt, a braided beard hanging from the same square face that could be seen in the lineage of most Dwarvendim. What he was doing here, so far from the Krodestaag Mountains and the safety of the Stone Kingdoms, was a question Mallen decided he would very much like to answer.
In short order Gremorgan returned carrying two large bowls of steaming stew. What the contents of the bowls actually might be Mallen could not say, but it was hot and full of the smell of spices. After days of bread and hard cheese it was a welcome change.
Together the two ate and when they were finished the Dwarvendim placed the empty bowls to one side. He crossed his arms and looked straight into Mallen's eyes.
"You have accepted the hospitality of my home and now I must ask you why you are here. It has been many years since I have seen anyone attempt to cross into the domain of the Hra'gora and, if nothing else, I am curious."
Mallen made himself as comfortable as he could and told Gremorgan the whole tale of his return to Callenfrey, the events that led to his arrival within the caverns; the destruction of the port and his attempt at following the warband. The Dwarvendim listened attentively, eager for any information about the Hresh, especially the nature of their battle armour and insignia. When Mallen had finished the Dwarvendim sat back and smiled, his face a picture of wonder and disbelief.
"Well, as I live and breathe, a Kalborean on an honourable quest. This requires a moment's thought." Gremorgan closed his eyes and began to hum. Mallen did not know what he was doing but he waited, somehow he had the feeling that this huge Dwarvendim would prove to be a useful ally, if not a strange one.
When Gremorgan reopened his eyes it was as if he had just returned from a journey that had provided him with some powerful insight. He did not keep these insights to himself.
"Well Mallen, you have taken upon yourself a long and difficult journey, one fraught with danger and for which you are ill-prepared. Somehow it has brought you here and I can only assume that Providence has turned you in my direction. Perhaps you should stay here for a time before you continue on."
Mallen shook his head, "I cannot. As I sit here the Hordim move further away and I must not let the trail run cold. If the Warband exits these caverns and then disperses into the wide grasslands beyond I will never be able to recover my brother. I appreciate your offer but I must move on as soon as possible."
Gremorgan considered the Kalborean's words and turned to a large scroll that lay curled upon his workbench. Using the empty bowls as weights he spread its parchment across the table between them and let Mallen look at it. It was the hand-draughted plan of a maze of huge dimension and it appeared to spread over a wide area. The Dwarvendim pointed to a passage at the very edge of the maze.
"This is where we are, and this wide network of tunnels and chambers is the domain of the Hra'gora. I have watched the Hresh for many years and I know the paths they follow. You can be assured that they will take at least five days to traverse this system of caves and delvings before they can return to the surface, and even then I am quite sure I know exactly where they are headed. It is no secret as to where Hresh such as those you described will return, nor the paths that they shall take back to the Sanhar."
Mallen sat back from the parchment and could not help but appear sceptical, such knowledge was not known to Men, at least not as he knew.
"How can you be sure of this? By what artifice can you be privy to the plans of the Horde, and for that matter why are you here, living in such close quarters with our Enemy?"
Gremorgan smiled again and stood. "I cannot tell you why I am here, let's just say that I have been given a commission by my King to find something; something of great value to the Dwarvendim. In my search for it I have come to understand the ways of the Hordim and it has been one of the reasons that I have been able to survive here, within their midst. "
Mallen was no wiser for the answer and pressed harder, "But how can you know where they are headed? Surely the Sanhar Wastes are a mystery to all men. The lands of the Hordim are no place to wander, even for one such as you."
"And yet," said Gremorgan, "you would venture there yourself? The Sanhar Wastes are a great mystery to some but the Dwarvendim have made it their business to understand their enemies. Do you think we have been idle over these centuries, content to trade and take taxes, and wait like cattle for the next attack of the Horde Armies? I think not. The insignia you described to me are those of the Denmar Kraal. It has been known for some time that the Denmar have fallen in with the Jotun Clans of the West in a long term plan to break the power that is held over them by the Mutan. For a generation the Jotun have secretly been attempting to find the key that will break the hold the Mutan have over all Hordim. If they can achieve such an end then they will destroy the Mutan just as they did the ancients before them. It is something that they have expended great blood to achieve."
Mallen could not see the connection. "Yes, but what does this have to do with the Warband that attacked Callenfrey and took my brother Tomas?"
"You're brother has red hair?" asked Gremorgan.
"Yes, but..."
The Dwarvendim waved his hand and cut Mallen off.
"Mallen Cael, it will do you well to listen. I am aware that we are little less than strangers, but give me ten minutes of your time and I can assure you it will be worthwhile."
Mallen nodded and resumed his seat. The Dwarvendim had deep concern written into the nuances of his words and it compelled him to remain silent.
Seeing that the Kalborean had settled Gremorgan continued.
"I can see Mallen Cael that you are not an innocent in the ways of this world. You know, as do I, that nothing about the Horde is accidental nor are their actions random. When they attack, they attack for a reason. When they burn and slaughter it is not simply for the pleasure of doing it, but so that they might achieve some end, some part of a greater plan that is as yet unknown to Men. The Hresh that attacked your town did so under the express directions of the Mutan, of this I have no doubt. The destruction of the town was ordered for some purpose that is yet to be uncovered, but the taking of Callenfrey's red-haired townsfolk was no whim. The Denmar Hresh have been in conspiracy with the Jotun for some time, in earnest search of a way to break the hold the Mutan have over all Hordim. When they were given the task of attacking Callenfrey they must have seen it as an excellent way of obtaining something that they had long required."
Gremorgan shifted in his seat and Mallen took the opportunity to interject.
"This may be so but I do not see how red hair can be so important?"
The Dwarvendim reached over to his desk once again and hefted a large book. He opened it carefully, its decrepit pages dry and brittle as he searched for a particular section. When he had found what he was looking for he turned it to face Mallen. It was written in a language unknown to the young Kalborean but he did recognise a number of small diagrams as charts, maps of sections of Kalborea and a star chart that meant nothing to him. To Gremorgan it seemed very important.
"This book is one of three written by a scholar of the Old World named Shalengael. He lived during the first years of settlement of the Four Nations in Arborell and was a witness to the great command the Hordim had over EarthMagic. At that time Men were nothing more than immigrants, wind-borne flotsam of another world, and we were weak. At any time in those early years the Hordim could have destroyed us, but instead they helped to keep us fed and sheltered, and we repaid them by taking their lands and driving them into exile. Shalengael saw the harnessing of EarthMagic as a way to keep what had been taken and set about recording everything he saw."
"What Shalengael did not realise at that time was that EarthMagic does not allow itself to be abused. It cannot be harnessed unless it wishes to be, and the consequences for those who try without permission can be devastating. In his ignorance he recorded all that he saw and then tried to duplicate the incantations and supplications himself. It will suffice to say that he was never seen again and all that remained was his notes, of which this book is one collection."
"The Dwarvendim have studied what he recorded for many years, and we have come to realise that EarthMagic is more than just power, something that can be used. It is a reality that physically holds Arborell together and binds every living thing to it. At some time in the past the Mutan found the key that allowed them to take hold of EarthMagic and harness it to their own ends. And I believe that inadvertently Shalengael recorded that key as a part of this ancient book."
"You see Mallen Cael, EarthMagic is the power the Mutan have over all other Hordim, and to break that hold the Jotun, and the Denmar Hresh, must wrest EarthMagic from them. It is clear from Shalengael's writings that the only way to lessen the powers of EarthMagic is to corrupt them, to physically introduce something foreign into its essence that will change its nature. If this can be done then the key needed to wield it will change as well and the Mutan will not be able to find it quickly enough. Their grasp will weaken and then collapse."
Gremorgan carefully closed the book and placed his hand upon its binding.
"The Jotun are not fools. In ancient times they destroyed their masters only to find themselves held still in subjugation by the Mutan. It is a Word of Command that the Mutan use to keep all the other Hordim in thrall and the Jotun seek a way of breaking that Word. They must believe that we are the best chance they have to change the essence of EarthMagic, and they have determined that of all of us, those that are red-haired are the most unique and therefore the most foreign. Whatever they plan to do with your brother has got nothing to do with the attack on Callenfrey, and everything to do with their search for the one thing that will break the hold of the Mutan. I fear that your brother is in grave danger of becoming an experiment in the wider designs of the Jotun."
Mallen sat with his mouth open and his eyes wide. Gremorgan's words were spoken with an authority of someone who was absolutely sure of what he was saying. Yet, he could see no way that anyone might know such things. The Hordim were a mystery to all and a fear that most preferred not to meet face to face. How the Dwarvendim could know the machinations of the Jotun was beyond him, and yet he could see within Gremorgan's eyes a well of wisdom that would only be divulged when something important required it. He decided in that instant that this man was indeed a mystery worth uncovering, but first he had a few questions of his own.
"If this is truly the design of the Hordim then what can I do? As we speak my brother is being transported further from my grasp. How do I get him back?"
Gremorgan stood and grabbed a small rucksack that lay thrown between two piles of rock. Purposefully he began packing it with items from his chamber and stopped only to give Mallen his answer.
"For some reason Providence has placed you across my path and I cannot ignore that. Mallen Cael, our fates have been intertwined and although it is still uncertain I can see that the object of my search may very well be connected with the recovery of your brother. If you want to know how to get your brother back then I will tell you. To find the Hresh and make good his rescue I must go with you."
Mallen stood in the corner of the Dwarvendim's chambers and watched as Gremorgan readied himself for the journey ahead. He had accepted that his quest to find his brother would be a solo effort, and felt uneasy at the thought of another being involved. He had neither considered help nor requested it, but it had been thrust upon him and he could say naught against it. The Dwarvendim was far too powerful for him to overwhelm and leave behind, and the huge man would take no argument as good enough reason to remain here in his dark domain. As he watched he was only sure of one thing, and that was that he did not yet trust this man, or for that matter, the reasons why he seemed so eager to go with him.
Yet the Dwarvendim had both power and knowledge, attributes that the young Kalborean lacked, and for which Gremorgan had demonstrated he had in abundance. Regardless of his suspicions it was obvious that taking him could mean the difference between a successful recovery of his brother, or an anonymous death at the hands of the Hordim. He decided he would make the best use he could of the giant Dwarvendim's talents. On the long road ahead he would need them.
Gremorgan would not leave until he had everything he needed. As Mallen stood quiet in the shadows of his chambers the Dwarvendim collected clothing from drawers, books and papers from workbenches and shelving, and a number of strange metal items from a locked chest. All of which he stuffed into a set of strong leather bags. The Dwarvendim had food in abundance and he gave Mallen enough to fill his own pack with cheeses, fruits and a curious bread that smelt heavily of spice and nuts. All of this he packed carefully, and then took the chance to taste a piece of the aromatic bread. He was not prepared for the effect it would have upon him.
One bite was enough. As he chewed at the soft, doughy loaf he could feel a strange warmth spreading from his neck, across his shoulders and down his arms. For a moment he felt a slight disorientation but that passed, and as it did so he felt new energy infusing itself into his being. Fatigue and the aches of his travels passed from him and his head cleared. Suddenly the way ahead was clear, the road before him a sure path to his brother. It was enervating and yet slightly disturbing.
Gremorgan saw what Mallen was doing and cautioned him.
"Mallen Cael, be careful not to eat too much at first. A man not used to Nahla bread can be quickly overwhelmed by it."
Mallen placed the remainder of the bread in his pack and tried to remain still. The effects of the Nahla had been immediate and powerful, and it took some effort to restrain a rising urge to expend the energy that the bread had afforded him. It took all the willpower he had to do so.
When Gremorgan finished he held a pack and three sling bags, all draped upon his broad shoulders, and sported a huge axe fitted into a sheathe at his waist. The axe immediately caught Mallen's attention. The Dwarvendim had struck him as a man of knowledge and a weaver of magic, but the weapon he held at his belt indicated there was a side to Gremorgan that was still to be revealed. The axe was a massive blade of tempered steel, ornately forged and engraved, and secured to a haft of black wood that was as long as Mallen's outstretched arms. At first he could not see how Gremorgan might move with such a weapon at his side, it was both ungainly and far too long for free movement within the passages and halls that Mallen had assumed they would be passing through. His unspoken question was answered as his companion grabbed at the leather handle and watched as the entire haft shortened to only a third of its extended length. Mallen was about to ask how such a thing could be but Gremorgan raised his hand again and stopped any further interrogation. He had the look of someone who had been indoors too long, and was anxious to get out into the fresh air and warm sun. It was time to go.
"Come now Master Cael, you have been patient enough, but now it is time for us to get on our way. The Hresh will not tarry any longer than is necessary within the caverns."
As he spoke the Dwarvendim made for the stone arch and placed his hand against the solid wall. For a moment he concentrated on the rock, feeling at its surface as he delved for something beyond. Mallen could feel Gremorgan's thoughts extending beyond the chamber into the passages outside, and his own consciousness was swept up in the power that the Dwarvendim was using to achieve it. He stood close by Gremorgan and his mere proximity was enough for his own mind to venture out into the darkness, surveying the cold tunnels and finding them safe to travel. When he was finished Gremorgan stood back and waved his hand slowly over the rock that filled the arch. Once again the stone dissolved away, leaving a perfectly cut doorway into the passages beyond. Gremorgan paused for only a second and then put his head out into the darkness. It was absolutely black beyond the threshold and Mallen remembered the strange spectacles that he had been given. Carefully he placed them on his head and the darkness withdrew into a world of deep red and long tunnel-like delvings. With a hint of trepidation he stepped out into the passage and followed Gremorgan into the gloom.
Gremorgan moved with an expert knowledge of the passages ahead. Through his nightglasses Mallen could see the corridors were rough-cut and littered with debris, in much the same way as he had found the tunnels at the entrance to the caverns. As they moved deeper into the network of passages and chambers he could see that this was changing. He had at first assumed that the caverns were the product of an ancient delving, a mine that had long since given up its riches and been abandoned. However, it was apparent that this underground world was much more than that. In the hours that followed Mallen came to appreciate the vast size of the labyrinth that Gremorgan had come to call home. Ancient tunnels and corridors worked their way deep into the earth, exposing huge chambers and natural caves that then exited into well-carved and precise passages. All came together in a huge maze that defied Mallen's ability to determine what direction they might be travelling; all he could be sure of was that they were descending, working ever deeper into the bedrock of the world.
Although Mallen had no knowledge of where they were, Gremorgan navigated a sure path that took them carefully into a series of natural caverns, and then along the course of an underground stream that wound its way further into the cold earth. Only when both began to feel the heavy hand of fatigue did the Dwarvendim call a halt. For the first time since they had begun he turned to face Mallen. They had stopped at the edge of a wide natural cave, beside a series of rock formations that rose as buttresses from the floor and arched upwards into the cave's walls high above.
"We should rest here for a time Mallen Cael. There will be little opportunity to do so once we have passed beyond these buttresses."
Mallen took in the grandeur of the rock and then busied himself with some food from his pack. The journey underground had proved a tiresome endeavour and he was glad for the respite. He had more questions of his own too, ones that had festered since leaving the security of Gremorgan's home and he took the opportunity to air them.
"Where is it that we make for? I see us delving deeper into these caverns but see no hope of finding the sun for many days. I would feel better if I were privy to your intentions."
Gremorgan chewed on a mouthful of dried meat and nodded his head. "I am sorry Master Cael, I have been alone for such a long time that I forget that others do not know my mind. Your question is a fair one, and I shall attempt to answer it as best I can."
"It is my belief that the Hresh will take at least five days to traverse the domain of the Hra'gora. Such a large band cannot take the most direct route as it is bottlenecked at many places and this would delay them for too long a time. For the Hresh to make their way out of the caverns as a group they will need to follow a path that takes them some distance further to the north before again turning westwards. We are not constrained in this regard. By following the path that lay before us we will make the outside world a good day ahead of them. It is my hope that we will be able to lay in wait for them and then find an opportunity to recover your brother."
Such an outcome was more than Mallen could have hoped for. He had his doubts though, and he did not mind expressing them.
"There must be many exits from a cavern system such as this. How will we know which is the correct one?"
Gremorgan smiled and tapped his nose. "Leave that to me, it is something I am very good at."
With that the two companions ate. In the silence the cold meal was welcome but somewhat joyless. The Kalborean chewed at his food and pondered the unknown road ahead. There was something the Dwarvendim had said previously that interested him.
"A number of times you have mentioned that we journey through the domain of the Hra'gora. What is it, some kind of monster?"
Gremorgan looked up from his food and shook his head. "Not what, but who. We shall meet the Hra'gora upon our journey but do not be overly concerned, they are neither dangerous, nor interested for that matter, in what we do. It will suffice to say that they have been here a long time, existing within these dark halls, going about their business. I have no doubt they will remain here long after Men have faded from the world."
It was all Gremorgan would say. Mallen was none the wiser, except that he was reassured that the Hra'gora, whatever they might be, were harmless. Together they ate until they were satisfied and then packed away what remained. As Mallen stood and brushed dirt from his pants Gremorgan came close and whispered in his ear.
"Beyond these buttresses extends a wide cavern, one we must cross without cover or camouflage. It is important that we make little sound, on this we must be diligent."
Mallen peered out into the darkness but could see nothing, "What lies here that requires such stealth?"
Gremorgan grabbed Mallen by the shoulder, "Trust me, unlike the Hra'gora there are things that lurk in the dark places of the world that do not like to be disturbed. It will be best for us that we do not disturb this one."
Mallen nodded and let him take the lead. Carefully the Dwarvendim crossed the short distance to a gap that lay between two wide upthrusts of stone. Against their bulk he was insignificant, and he disappeared quickly into the shadows. Mallen followed, a feeling of anxiety growing within him. He could not know what might lay beyond the stone arches but it obviously was something better left at peace.
Gremorgan waited in the gloom as his companion caught up, and then pointed in the direction they were to travel. Even with the nightglasses Mallen could see little, but what he saw did nothing to allay his disquiet. Before them spread a vast cavern, roughly circular in shape that rose to more than one hundred metres above their heads. The sides of the immense space were covered in a sinuous flowing series of stalagmites that spread up the rock walls and cascaded as frozen stone in great leaps from its dome. The floor of the cavern was remarkably smooth, and although it was littered with debris he wondered whether it was natural in making. It looked more like something made that had been left for many centuries to the mercy of water and time.
Gremorgan pointed again across the cavern's floor and there Mallen could see a great rift that split the far wall. That would be their objective. Together they descended a small slope of loose dirt that ran to the floor of the cavern and then gained a footing upon the solid stone. The Dwarvendim said nothing. Instead he began a careful navigation of the cavern, keeping to the less-littered sections of its floor, avoiding what debris he could that had fallen from the high dome above. Mallen followed and in time began to relax as the anticipated dangers did not materialise. He watched all that Gremorgan did, mimicking each step and turn he took as he found a silent path through the wide spaces of the immense chamber.
In a way it was easier for Mallen than he had expected. After the closeness of the passages they had passed through, the open space of this great dome was a welcome relief, one that allowed him to consider more closely the mystery of his new companion, his obvious power and the knowledge he possessed. His thoughts diverted his attention and in time made him careless.
Gremorgan had passed beyond an outcrop of fallen stone and Mallen was making his way around it when he noticed a strangely shaped stone on the ground. It would have been unremarkable except for its uncanny resemblance to an animal bone protruding from the dirt. It caught his attention, and for a moment he pondered its unusual shape as he felt his way past the large stone. What he did not see was the shelf of jutting rock that lay in his path and he walked straight into it, hitting his head hard against its unforgiving surface. In pain and surprise he fell backwards and hit the ground, his pack spilling its contents upon the dusty floor. Too late he saw the shelf of rock for what it really was, a long slab of stone that balanced precariously upon an uneven perch. In an instant it began to slide and as it did so, Gremorgan turned, a look of dismay etched upon his bearded face. There was nothing either could do as the slab slid off the outcrop and slammed on to the debris littered floor of the cavern. It was an impact that could not go unnoticed. Beneath Mallen's hands he felt a vibration spreading from the impact like a stroke upon a drum skin, a rolling boom that echoed out into the cavern and returned to remind him of his carelessness. As the rumble grew, its intensity increasing as the sound ricocheted from wall to wall, a new danger unfolded. Loose pieces of limestone from the roof above began to fall, dislodged from their seating, hitting the ground ahead like lethal rain. Within the thunder and crash of the falling debris Mallen lay dumbfounded. He turned towards the Dwarvendim and found that Gremorgan was definitely not happy.
"Which part of 'do not disturb' didn't you understand my young friend? Hurry and raise yourself lest we be found floundering here in the open!"
With one hand he grabbed Mallen and hauled him to his feet. Embarrassed, and covered in a fine white dust, the Kalborean shrugged his pack from his shoulders and hurriedly collected the scattered food. As he worked a new sound filled the cold air of the cavern, a rasping scrape that could be heard above the reverberations of echoing thunder and dropping stone. Mallen stood and looked about but could not identify its source, it sounded like it came from high above.
Gremorgan grabbed Mallen and shouted at him, no pretense remained with the Dwarvendim for silence or care. "Now we must go, you have awoken the Molgoth and we must move with haste if we are to make the other side of the cavern."
Dragging Mallen by the arm he grabbed up his own bags and set off at the run, his eyes scanning the heights of the cavern's ancient dome, in search of some great danger lurking high above. Mallen saw it first. Against the reddish tinge of the rock at the apex of the dome, he saw the indistinct movement of something detaching itself slowly from a great crack that ran a third of the way down one side of the vast ceiling. He could not see it clearly but he had no doubt this was the object of Gremorgan's concern.
"I see it, moving against the rocks above!" he called to the Dwarvendim. Gremorgan came to a halt and scanned where he pointed.
"Yes, it is indeed awake. The Molgoth arises and it will not sleep now until it has satisfied its hunger. Let us make sure that we are not its bedtime meal."
Together they ran, scurrying between huge pieces of fallen stone and drifts of clinging dust blown up by their collapse. Within the dust and debris Mallen could see little, however he could hear clearly the cry of a great beast as it exalted its anger at having been woken from its deep slumber. He picked up his gait, the hairs at the back of his neck tingling with the impression that he had been discovered. He did not have long to wait before the monster Gremorgan had called the Molgoth found them both.
With a cry that echoed out into the dark spaces the fury of its anger and distress, the Molgoth swooped from its nest down upon the two travellers. Caught in the open Gremorgan came to a sudden stop and pulled his axe from its sheath. Mallen could not understand what the Dwarvendim was doing but then he saw the beast resting on its haunches only a short distance ahead, wrapped in dust and scattering debris. Gremorgan did not wait for the Molgoth to attack.
"Take your nightglasses off Mallen Cael. Do it now!" he shouted. Immediately the young Kalborean complied and found himself standing in the pitch-dark. Only then did he remember he had a weapon of his own and drew it in readiness for the attack to come. He stood his ground and waited for the Dwarvendim to do something.
Slowly from out of the dark came the voice of Gremorgan, chanting a low resonant dirge that rose and fell as waves might lap against the shore. It was a hypnotising hymn that brought everything to a pause, and as he stood in the vast space of the cavern Mallen could feel the air moving around him. It was but a breeze at first, a wisp of air charged with static that rolled and bent, searching out the man who had called it. Quickly it became a gale, building as the first squall of a storm might out in the wider world. And then from the darkness a flock of glowing, multi-coloured orbs coalesced, spiralling in a tight ballet that sputtered and flashed before coming together in one incandescent sphere. The Dwarvendim stood firm as the brilliant light shone forth, coming to rest around his hands before ascending high above their upturned heads. Within the light the cavern was revealed in all its glory, and the beast he had called Molgoth was exposed.
Mallen was not ready for either. Rather than the shades of dull-red that he had travelled with whilst wearing the nightglasses, the cavern was instead awash with colour. The buttresses of stone transforming into pillars of flowing pink and ochre, of frozen blue-green cascades and massive crystal-like filaments that hung from the dome as petrified stalactites. All reflected the light of Gremorgan's orb into a myriad of rainbows that shone out across the space of the cavern and dazzled all who might see it. It was a fairy world far outside Mallen's experience and he was mesmerised by it, but the Molgoth quickly brought him back to the dangerous reality of their situation.
The Molgoth squatted not ten metres from where Gremorgan stood. Its fat bulbous body covered by leathery wings that entwined it as it tried to protect itself from the brilliant light of the orb. Mallen ran up beside Gremorgan just as the Molgoth spread its wings and hissed a squeal of defiance at the intruders. The Kalborean then saw its true form. It was a monster unlike anything he had seen, a great hair-covered bat, which even in a squat stood twice the height of Gremorgan. Mallen stepped back a pace and the sound of his movement caught the attention of the monstrosity, it hissed again and lumbered forward, intent on killing everything that had disturbed its sleep.
"Gremorgan! By the Gods run man! Save yourself whilst it is blinded by the Orb!" Mallen shouted, but the Dwarvendim did not run. Instead he planted his feet squarely in the dirt and swung his great axe in front of him, shouting at the beast to attack and doing everything he could to keep its attention focused on him.
With one great sweep of its leathered wing the Molgoth hit Gremorgan in the side and flung him out of the circle of light illuminated by the now diminishing Orb. Mallen despaired at the ease with which the monster had thrown down the Dwarvendim and turned on his heel to attack the beast. He could not leave the cavern, he did not even know where he was. In his desperation he realised he needed Gremorgan and was not about to let the creature have away with him.
With sword glittering in the light of the Orb Mallen charged the Molgoth and hacked deeply into its outstretched limb. Deep went the cut, and the monstrous bat screamed in pain as it turned to face this new assailant. In its anguish it rushed forward on its short legs and raked the ground violently in front of it, looking for the flesh of the man that had hurt it so. Mallen was not about to let its blows find their mark. With a stabbing thrust he sank the sword's tip again into the Molgoth's wing and pulled down on the blade with all his might. The Molgoth staggered backwards, thrashing its wings and gnashing its teeth as it tried to evade any further wound. The damage had been done, however. Mallen's blade had rent the monster's wing from bone to edge, neatly cutting its flight surface in half and rendering it impossible for the beast to return to the safety of its loft. It was not defeated though. In a rage it advanced once again, throwing its limbs at Mallen, thrashing the ground before it and fanning great gouts of dust into the air. In the choking haze Mallen fell back, unable to see what was before him. Out of the dust came a taloned claw, crashing into his shoulder and spinning him through the air. In the violence of the attack his sword was flung from his hand, and he hit the ground awkwardly, sliding to a halt against a wide slab of fallen limestone.
The Molgoth ran from the haze, its eyes alight with pain and hatred, focused on Mallen as he lay disoriented against the stone. The Kalborean searched with his hands for his sword but it was nowhere to be found. In the gathering dark of the faltering Orb Mallen pressed himself against the stone and waited for the stroke that would end his life. This time it did not come.
Out of the darkness Gremorgan charged, axe held in both hands as he rushed the creature, barrelling directly into its side, sending it skittering on clawed feet across the smooth stone. Before it could recover the Dwarvendim jumped upon its heaving torso and swung his axe with all the force he could muster. Down it came, a cleaving blow that sunk deep into the Molgoth, embedding its steel to the hilt in the giant bat's chest. Mallen watched as he pulled the weapon from its new home and swung once again, this time severing the creature's arm, throwing down its wing as it flailed in its despair. With one final lunge it swept Gremorgan from its body and sent him crashing to the ground, but it was the end for the Molgoth. Mortally wounded it sank to the floor and lay still, its lifeblood seeping from open wounds that ran freely across the dusty floor. Then for a time all was silent.
Mallen did not arise until the dust had settled and the Orb had finally flickered out. He had received a crushing blow to his side, and although he could feel no broken bones, the muscles felt both bruised and sore. Carefully he pulled his nightglasses from where he had secured them to his belt. In the familiar ruddy shades he surveyed the ground and found Gremorgan searching the area surrounding the body of the Molgoth. He looked distraught.
"Gremorgan! I am over here." he shouted, his throat choked with dust and hair. At the sound of Mallen's voice the Dwarvendim cocked his head and ran to where he lay. The worry on his cragged face now transformed by a broad smile.
"Well, young Master Cael, I thought the beast had fallen upon you, it is good to see you still in one piece."
"But somewhat the worse for wear, Gremorgan. Here, give me support as I try and stand." He reached up his hand and the Dwarvendim took it, pulling him to his feet. The young Kalborean could not believe the size of the beast they had slain, and as he took a closer look he realised the chance Gremorgan had been prepared to take in traversing the domed cavern. It had been a close thing, the Molgoth had almost taken both their lives and his new ally had known all about it. As he stood in the dark massaging his bruised ribs he began to doubt that Gremorgan was indeed a friend. It was a doubt that grew quickly. Perhaps the Dwarvendim's own reasons for wishing to journey with him might not preclude putting Mallen's own life at risk, and the thought arose that to this man he might be expendable. With gathering distrust building within him he approached the Dwarvendim and could not help himself. He hit him.
Taken by surprise Gremorgan took the blow fairly across his face. It was a punch delivered with all the force Mallen could muster, and it bent Gremorgan backwards. Before the Dwarvendim could answer the affront Mallen pushed him down and stood over him, both fists ready for a fight.
"What were you thinking you stupid stone-eater? By all the powers of Providence, you lead me into a trap for which you had full knowing and deemed it necessary to mention naught of it to me. And then, when we are confronted by this...this beast here you do not make haste to escape when it is obviously blinded, you stand your ground and wait for its attack. Are you mad? Speak in your own defence quickly Gremorgan, or I will vent my rage upon you!"
The Dwarvendim had been stunned by the unforeseen assault but he did not wait for Mallen to strike again. The Kalborean stood straddled across the huge Dwarvendim's waist and he was unprepared for Gremorgan's response. Using his greater physical strength he threw his right leg out and swept Mallen's legs from beneath him, toppling him backwards on to the floor. In an instant the big man was on the younger Kalborean, a huge hand about his throat, holding him to the ground as Mallen flailed his arms and legs trying to break the hold.
"Young Master," he whispered into Mallen's ear, "it would do well that you keep such impulses in check. If it was not for the fact that I am very glad to see you still amongst the living, I should take the opportunity now to throttle you." He released the grip he had upon Mallen and dragged him upright. Mallen massaged his throat but before he could speak Gremorgan continued.
"There is something here that you should have no illusions about. There are no second prizes, no consolations for not reaching the outside world before the Hresh. We are in a race where such risks are necessary, and there will be times when it should not be necessary for me to explain myself. I told you not to make a sound and you succeeded single-handedly in bringing down half the ceiling, which I might add not only awoke the Molgoth but also has probably alerted most of the denizens of these caverns to our presence. I fought the beast because that is the nature of my people, and therefore it is my nature. We do not run from a challenge and we do not take a backward step when we are attacked. It is something you should consider in the days to come."
"Now you have a choice young Master, you can either accept that I might know what I am doing and follow where I lead, or you can take your leave. You have until the time I collect my gear to make your decision."
With that he rose to his feet and began to walk back to where he had dropped his baggage. When he had got a few steps from Mallen he turned, something had been left unsaid, "And one last thing Mallen Cael of Kalborea. Call me a stone-eater one more time and you will truly see the wrath of one angered beyond reason. It will be an affront you will not survive intact."
Mallen slowly raised himself from the dust of the cavern floor and brushed himself down. His side ached from the blow he had received in the melee but it was not the greatest injury he would have to endure. He had been greatly chastised and felt the foolishness of his anger and the unfairness of the blow he had laid upon Gremorgan. He had assaulted him and then insulted him in a manner that the Dwarvendim had not deserved. As he stood in the dark he felt only embarrassment that he had reacted in such a way to the first true test of his character since he had begun his quest to find his brother. He could not leave such an ally in such a state of affront but he did not know how to make amends for it. It was Gremorgan however, that took the matter out of Mallen's hands. He arose from the darkness with his bags arrayed upon his shoulders and looked quizzically in the direction of his companion.
"Well? Shall we trust each other and find our way out of this dungeon?"
Mallen smiled and nodded. No word was said as the Dwarvendim turned his back on the Molgoth and they made their way towards the rift in the far wall. Mallen knew he had little choice. He was a stranger in an unfamiliar land and Gremorgan, for good or ill, was his guide. Only Fate could decide where that might lead him.
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