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Date Posted: 21:00:32 04/05/03 Sat
Author: Adaron, Leila, Gelan & Brage
Subject: Traveling to Drimmen-Deeve
In reply to: No post. 's message, "War of the Everdark" on 12:38:20 03/27/03 Thu

January 15

When they broke camp, once more Brage seemed reluctant to mount up behind Leila on Solos, and it was a wonder how such a fierce warrior as the Dwarf could be so daunted by the thought of riding a horse. Yet Brage gritted his teeth and bestrode the steed. Up through the foothills they went, the land rising around them as they made for the Quadran: four great mountains of the Grimwall: Greytower, Loftcrag, Grimspire, and the mightiest of all, Stormhelm. Beneath these four peaks delved Drimmen-deeve, ancient Dwarven homeland, now abandoned by them and fallen into dread, for therein dwelled a horror: a Gargon: Drego's Dred: an evil Vulk: servent of Gryn in the Great War of the Ban. And as Eiron's words had suggested to the trio before they set out from Arden Vale, the Everdark may have set this vile monster free from its exile under the Quadran and loosed it to reeve within the Shadowlight. A hideous ally to Drego's Horde would it be, for the Gargon is a fear caster: armies would break and run before its dread power, or the soldiers would be paralyzed with terror, frozen like to stone itself, and easy pray. And toward the domain of this horror the four rode, for they thought to cross through the Quadran Pass and warn the Elves in Galion Forest of the Horde marching behind them. Twenty miles south they rode, up through the rising foothills. Then the abandoned road divided: the Old Rell Way continued south along the western flanks of the Grimwall; the other path turned left and east and climbed up into the mountains, for it was the road over the Quadran Pass. This left-hand way they followed, going some fifteen miles more before making camp. Thirty-five miles they had ridden that leg, and they were weary. They supped on wayfarer's rations: tea, mian, and chewy cubes of salted meat said by Brage to come from cod prepared by the fishermen of Leut and brought to Jugo in the trading fleets of Arbalin.

Leila was not so weary today as she had been and was fully intent upon taking the first watch again. "You must rest tonight, Adaron," she told him, knowing he had not slept the last night. The gypsy stood and with a roll of her body that arched her back up it sounded as though her entire spine had popped from the tailbone up. Then arms, wrists, fingers, hips, ankles, and neck. It was an interesting ritual, but it seemed to wake her up.

Adaron simply nodded, giving into her command and with his back upon the bedroll he laid down, his hands resting clasped over his stomach, yet his eyes did not close. The other two as well took to their beds after this meal was finished yet both did not close their eyes either. At this time not ready for bed.

"Mankoi lle n'uma losa, Astalder?" (Why do you not sleep, valiant one?) asked the dark gypsy of the elf who had not slept in two days now and was surely growing tired.

But before Adaron had a chance to respond to the Gypsy's question, Brage grunted and stroked his forked beard. "Your tongue seems to be a mixture of Man and Elf, but I do not hear the words of the Chakka."

A black brow rose smoothly. "I do not know the Chakka language." Taking a stab in the dark then. "Would that be the language of your kin, Ai' atar?" She gave a glance to Adaron then with green-gold eyes as if to tell him that she was not finished with him and still expected an answer to her question.

"Chakka is what we call ourselves." Brage informed, nodding his head to add effect.

Adaron's gaze turned to the Dwarf from out of the corners of his head, then glanced a bit up to capture Leila in his gaze. "We name them Drimma, though it used to be naugrim. Drimmen-deeve translates to Dwarven-devlings."

A nod was given then, her arms folded to pull her knees closer to her to conserve heat. To Adaron then: "My question to you remains."

Brage grumbled, speaking before Adaron had a chance to once more. "Aye, Drimmen-deeve to Elf, Black Hole to Man, but its true name is Kraggen-cor." He said with pride, his voice giving might to the name of the ancient dwelling. "Yet no matter what it is called, it is the ancient Chakkaholt delved under the Quadran--" Brage shook his head in regret. "--though the Chakka no longer dwell there." Now the Dwarf leapt to his feet and paced in agitation, a dark look upon his face, his eyes smoldering in ire. "Four times have we been bested by a foe beyond our limits: twice by Dragons, once by a Ghath--a Gargon--and theother time I shall not speak of. In Kraggen-cor it was the Ghath. Glorious were our days spent in that mighty Realm" mining ores, gems, and precious starsilver--what you call silveron. There, too, were our unmatched forges where we crafted tools and weapons and worthy things. And our homes were filled with happiness and industry. But the old tales say a silveron shaft was driven on a course of little promise: why, I do not know. Some day it was Drego's wall that set our way, for our digging we set free the evil Ghath, Drego's Dread, from a chamber he had been trapped in since the Great War of the Ban."

"The Lost Prison." Adaron softly named it, then fell silent.

She just stared at the dwarf with a raised eyebrow. Was he done? Could she talk to her elf now?

The Dwarf spun and pointed a finger at the Elf before striding over to Leila as he spoke. "Prison he names it..." And the Dwarf settled down next to the female, smiting a clenched fist into an open palm, and apparently believing that she wanted nothing more than to hear this tale that he was telling her. "and prison it was, until that fatal day the Ghath burst from his lair and and through the end of the shaft wall and slew many Chakka. In vain we tried to slay it, but it overmastered my Folk, and in the end we fled: out through the Dusken Door and out through the Daun Gate, west and east of the Gimwall, for the corridors of Kraggen-cor reach from one side of the Mountains to the others." The Dwarf's shoulders slumped, and his fierce manner evaporated to be replaced by a dark, somber mood.

She looked sympathetically to the Dwarf, patting his shoulder lightly before cutting her eyes over at Adaron, "Tua amin?" (Help me?) pitifully, though in a playful tone.

A small grin split the Elf's face and he shook his head slowly. She was in this on her own.

Brage seemed to not notice her foreign plea. "More than one thousand years have passed since last the Chakka dwelt in Kraggen-cor, and still we yearn for its mighty halls. Yet although many have dreamt of living in those chambers, none have gone back but Breggi's squad, for Breggi led a raid to slay the Ghath: the Doomed Raid of Braggi, for none of that band were ever seen again. Some day that Kraggen-cor will be ours once more when Deathbreaker Durek is reborn. Then again will we dwell there: under Uchan, Ghatan, Aggarath, and Ravenor--Mountains you name Greytower, Loftcrag, Grimspire, and Stormhelm. And we will make it into a mighty realm of old. When, I cannot say, for none knows when Khana Durek will return."

Leila looked at Adaron helplessly and then glared at him for refusing to help her, though it was a playful look before she turned attentively back to Brage and nodded in agreement like she was really listening. Leila did a very good job of looking attentive when she tried. Her hands were folded in her lap and her head inclined just so. Would this endless rambling not cease?!

Morose, Brage fell silent, and seemed to be finished.

Suddenly Adaron sat up, taking up his leather skin to down a bit of water. As he set it back he spoke. "Once in my youth I strode through the halls of Drimmen-deeve, a journey I have long remembered, for the Black Deeves are mighty."

She stared at Adaron for a moment. "Could you define what part of your four thousand some odd years you consider youth?"

Brage was astonished. "You have walked in Kraggen-cor??"

But Adaron’s ocean blue gaze had lifted to the Gypsy, a dark brow lifted before a light smile overtook his features before his gaze dropped from her to the Dwarf at her side. He nodded. "It was a trade mission from Arden Vale to Galion forest, and the way across the Quadran Pass was blocked by winter snow. Through Drimmen-deeve we were allowed to pass, from Dusk-Door to Dawn Gate, though we paid a stilff toll to do so, I recall." Expression and emotion had fled from his face now as he continued. "Yet the toll was less than the cost of faring south through Gunar and north again through Valon. That was in the days when there was much trade between Trellinath, Harth, Gunar, Rell, and Drimmen-deeve."

She gave up. "Brage, considering that I have first watch, should you not be sleeping?"

Gelan, whom all had deemed was sleeping by now, softly gave a chuckle, though his eyes remained closed and did not see the three as they spoke, merely heard them. And he could only imagine Leila's expression and perhaps what had prompted her to comment such.

"Aye, perhaps I should." Returned Brage, turning to crawl the few feet away from her it was to his bed roll. He laid down, getting comfortable. He was propped up on one elbow for a time, looking long across at Adaron. "Lord Adaron," the Dwarf spoke at last, "if this Winter War ever comes again, you and I must have a long talk. Priceless knowledge of Kraggen-cor has been lost to my people, and you can tell us much."

Fortunately the dwarf was going to bed which meant once again she would win Adaron's attention. Leila just leaned against her knees and waiting until Adaron decided to address her and continue their conversation.

With Brage now bedded down, and Gelans steady breaths reaching his ears, his stoic gaze returned once more to Leila after a moment of silence. Just above a whisper he spoke, his voice yet coming clear. "What was your question to me?"

She had been watching him and lost herself in her thoughts that she startled when he directed his voice toward her. "My first question was why you were not sleeping and I do believe my second was what you considered to be your youth out of a life which spans over four thousand years."

He nodded slowly, once. "I was not sleeping because my mind was on other matters. The rede that we were given before we left Arden Vale, as one. And as to my youth, I suppose it varies a bit from one to another. I would consider my youth to be some three thousand years ago. Perhaps a bit more."

There was the softest shake of her head. "And to think I consider myself grown..." Her face darkened a bit. "The redes too worry me. I try to make sense of them, and yet I certainly do not know where to start so much as you or even Gelan would."

Another nod was given as he lowered his body to come to lay down on his side; speaking as he did so. "Auguries are often subtle, and dangerous - one may deem they mean one thing when they mean something else altogether."

Leila watched the elder elf with those odd green-gold eyes, her face softening upon watching his countenance. She knew not what to say. "Get some sleep, Adaron. I will make sure you have the last watch since you have watched for me over the last two nights."

No other words came from his lips as his eyes closed and he drifted off into sleep.

January 16

As they broke camp, Gelan set out their strategy. "Leila, you will ride behind me, for the way before is is narrow and twisting, and so my eyes will serve during most of this passage, though where needed you will peer around me. I shall go first, with you riding Solos behind, Adaron will follow, leading the packhorse. Keep sword, ax, and arrow to hand. Should we come to snow blocking the way, we must turn and swiftly come back down, for a Horde force-marches behind us, and we must not become entrapped upon this mountain flank. Yet should the way be held by the Yrm, then we can try to slay them--if there force is small. In that case, Adaron and Leila, your bows may become all-important in striking down a sentry in silence and from a distance. If a larger force holds the way, we may try to burst through and flee down the far side. Yet, too, we may simply turn back without alerting them and come this way once more, again at haste to elude the Horde now at our heels. Should the Dread hold the way, we will know it by the terror in our hearts, and turn back ere we come unto him, for he is a foe we cannot face. And if we do not cross, then we will make south for Gunar Slot and hope it is free of the enemy, as it was when Brage came north. But if neither snow nor Spawn nor the Gargon block the Quadran Pass, then we will make our way down the Quadran Run to the Pitch below, then east turning south for Galion Forest to warn them of the coming Horde. Is there aught that any would add to the plan?" Gelan peered into the face of each, how like his sire.

Leila just gave Gelan a look. She was not a morning person. The gypsy mumbled something incoherent as she secured her bedroll upon the saddle. She mounted up and then slumped forward, resting her elbows upon the top of the saddle, her hands over her face as she tried to rouse herself completely, rubbing at her eyes and yawning.

Brage did not move to mount up just yet. "It will be a cold crossing, for not only is it winter, but this evil Winternight clutches the heights above. Were this the Crestan Pass, I think we would not survive; but it is the Quadran Pass, and it does not reach to the same heights. Yet we must be swift, else we'll not move again until a spring thaw." Brage turned and in vain his sight tried to piece the Everdark to see the way upward. "It may be many a year ere a spring comes again unto this Land, for Drego intends to grasp it forever." Now he moved over to the white horse and struggled to mount it.

"Not if I can help it, Dwarf Brage," said Gelan, his grey eyes resolute. "If it be in my power, these mountains shall once more feel the warm kiss of the Sun."

Leila groaned softly and hauled Brage up behind her in a less than dignified manner and then went back to trying to wake herself up, mumbling, "Aye, King Gelan. He shall not have this land much longer." Quiet again, yawning.

Fluidly Adaron mounted the dapple grey, securing the rope to the packhorse to his saddle.

Just before they were to spur forward, Brage called, "King Gelan, I have this moment remembered an eld Chakka tale: there is the story of a secret High Gate somewhere upon Ravenor's flank, a gate that opens into the Quadran Pass, a gate that leads down into the halls of Kraggen-cor. It may be a fable, it may be true; but if this legend is so, and if the Ghath or Squam hold it, then they may issue out of it to assail us. Fact or fiction, I know naught else of this High Gate."

Gelan paused at the Dwarf's words, considering them before replying. "High Gate or no, still we must try." and then he spurred forward.

So once they began their journey she began to hum softly, possibly to the dismay of the dwarf. Just wait until she started singing, Brage. It was coming.

Up the slope of the Quadran Road they pressed, Jet first, Solos next, with Arauka and the packhorse following. A league they went, and beyond, the way rising before them, and now the mighty mountain flanks could be seen soaring upward into the Everdark. To their left was Stormhelm and to the right Grimpsire, two of the four peaks of the Quadran. The Road itself was carved along Stormhelm's flank, and buttresses and groins of rust-red granite vaulted in massive tiers up Stormhelm's side, or fell away sheer, dropping down to meet the looming ramparts of dark Grimspire. Sheets of ice glazed the lofty pinnacles, and the Shadowlight glow glittered in the hoarfrost, giving the tall rocks a phosphorescent luminance. And up the twisting walls of the Quadran Road shuddered the echoes of kneeling hooves as Man, Woman, Dwarf, and Elf rode up through the Winternight.

Through defiles they rode, and upon ridges where crests had been carved flat and the shoulders of the road pitched steeply down to either side. Yet always upward the comrades went. In places they dismounted and led the horses to give them respite from bearing riders, but they walked a quickstep, for time was not their ally. Miles passed--ten, fifteen, and more--and with each mile the air grew thinner and colder, and hoods were drawn over heads and cloaks were wrapped tightly around. Though the Elf seemed obviously less bothered by the mountain chill and bothered not with trying to keep the heat in. At last the path started down.

Brage peered around the woman who sat before him, seeing the path falling below them. "I believe that we have crested the brow of the Quadran Pass." He said to her, his voice muffled by his cloak. "No guards as yet. But stranger still, no great depth of winter snow, only this shallow fall, and that hardly on the road."

Leila was no longer in a singing mood, much less a talking mood. The dancer's lungs needed more air than was provided at such an altitude and she was mostly concentrating on breathing which had become shallow and more frequent. Finally she managed: "What could that mean?"

A grunt sounded behind her and the Dwarf's shoulders could be felt lifting. "They say that Drego is the Master of the Cold. Perhaps it is he who had kept the deep snow from these ways. But why? I cannot say."

"Maybe..." she gasped. "He meant for us to this way come." Another moment before she could get out more. "Or perhaps not us. Without the snow...the Horde can cross this gap to fall upon...the forest of the Silverbirds." The words taxed her lungs harshly in the thin air, though she knew once they rode back down into a valley she would be restored to her much wonted state. "We must warn them, Gelan..."

On they road, descending along the Quadran Run, as the eastern way was called. Beside the road fell a stream--also named the Quadran Run--now frozen in Winternight's icy clutch. They passed along ridges and through defiles and around tall spires as they descended, heading for the unseen Pitch below, a sloping valley hemmed by the four mountains of the Quadran. In front of them, Gelan's eyes saw out their way as best as they could, but for the most part stone walls and tall rocked blocked the view. Yet at times he could glimpse through the juts and spires to see the Run below. Suddenly Jet was reined to a sudden halt and the High King slipped from the great black steeds back, motioning Leila with a hand to do so as well. And then he hurried to a slot between two tall rocks and peered intently down, waiting for Leila.

She dismounted and hurried to his side, peering down between the rocks. "Oh King Gelan..." she sighed and then took another deep breath. "There are Ghola marching towards us from perhaps three miles downslope. There are no more than thirty."

"Rach!" Swore Gelan, his hands forming fists as his sides. "See you any place to hide?"

"None Sire, there is just an open ridge before us," she informed him sadly, not looking forward to the prospect of fighting while she could not breathe.

Now the High King's voice shook with frustration. "Then we must turn back ere they see us."

"We have come so far Gelan..." she said softly. "To just turn back now. Adaron and I could pick off most of them before they got within striking distance of us."

Gelan shook his head. "We have no choice!" He spat. His eyes closed for a moment and then more gently he spoke, a hand coming to rest upon her shoulder. "Nay, Leila, we have no choice. Come." And with that he stood straight and turned, jogging back toward the two still astride horses and to his Jet, mounting up quickly. "We must turn back: Ghola come this way." He informed the two.

Ire flashed in Brage's eye, and he unslung his ax and raised it on high. "Have we not come all this way just to suffer thwart of Drego's lackeys?"

She winced when he spoke so harshly to her and then pulled away from his touch angrily going to mount back on her horse. "We have no choice," she growled back toward Brage. "Put up your ax."

Adaron appeared to be a bit more calm, if one could call his stoic expression calm. "How many, Gelan King?" his clear voice asked.

"Not more than thirty, says Leila." Replied Gelan, turning Jet about and coming to the others.

Adaron then nodded his agreement to the Gypsy's comment. "Sling your ax, Drimm Brage, for even your vaunted prowess is over-matched by twenty or thirty of the corpse-folk." Brage ground his teeth in rage, yet slung his ax as they started back the way they had come.

Back to the crest of the Pass they ran along the twisting Quadran Run, and they started down the western way, the way they had just toiled up. Down through the steep-walled defiles they went apace, coming ever lower on the margins of the mountain. Three hours they had ridden, and now the road becan to level out as they came toward the flats.

She would not let her anger sacrifice them all to death, so she spoke. "I see before us the horde, and behind us the Ghola, both within the very limits of my vision. They are closing in upon us, King Gelan."

Boiling up through the foothills came the dark Swarm, and before it loped black Vulgs. "When can we leave this road?" Gelan's voice crackling with tension.

"About a mile or just more ahead. We can leave to the left, just where a ridge comes to a defile. We can get to a plateau, but there is no path. We can escape the road though..." helpfully.

"I see it," declared Gelan with a nod, urging Jet to greater speed. The black steed leapt forward on command. Down the way they ran. Before them came the Rucken Horde; behind them rode the Ghuls. Swiftly the comrades galloped out upon the ridge, up onto the plateau. Gelan immediately reined to a halt, throwing up his hand to stop the others. "Brage! Your ax!" Gelan barked, "Cut bracken! Sweep our tracks from the snow!"

Brage leapt down and cut a winter-dried bush with his axe and ran back down to the rocky road. With great sweeping arcs, he obliterated their tracks, backing as he went. A hundred feet or more he came, nearing the horses, and at Gelan's terse call, he dropped the bush and remounted Solos behind Leila, and the horses leapt forth.

While Brage cut and swept their path, she urged Solos forward until he danced next to Gelan's own horse. "Amin hiraetha, Gelan...I am sorry."

When Gelan had heard Leila's words he had inclined his head in acceptance. Then he gave an apology of his own. "Forgive me for losing my temper in that stressing moment. I did not mean to be so harsh."

Soon after, Brage mounted up behind her again and they were urged into a cantering run that would cover two miles.

South they bolted, away from the Quadran Road, through a blasted land, rough and boulder-strewn. Behind them, Ghuls on Helsteeds were cantering down one of the ridges toward the Horde force-marching upward. When they had run two miles from the Quadran Road, Gelan reined Jet to a walk, and all the horses were lathered steeds blowing white from their nostrils, their lungs pumping.


Adaron had ridden up to ride alongside the High King, looking over at Gelan. "A, but that was close." He commented softly, for his eyes had also seen the Ghulka. A glance was tossed over his shoulder that the two that rode double his features still lacking any expression of emotion.

Solos walked on behind the other horses, Leila gazing off in the distance with a soft smile upon her face that just didn't seem fitting for their situation. Softly did her voice come, melodically, "Mornië utúlië. Believe and you will find your way. Mornië alantië. A promise lives within you now..." (Darkness has come/Darkness has fallen)

Brage looked quite amusing sitting behind Leila on such a large animal for his small size. "We've slipped their trap." Brage was gloating, his legs swinging outward for it was hard work for him to latch onto the horse. Oh, but how he latched as soon as they even began walking faster. But then his voice caught in his throat and he stabbed a finger forward and a rash flashed over his face. "Kruk!"

Leila was jarred from her reverie by the bark of Brage's curse. Thick lashes batted a few times together before she looked at him over her shoulder. "What is it?"

Adaron's head snapped around at the sudden burst from the Dwarf. Keen Elven eyes followed the line of Brage's finger. There in the Shadowlight padding out from behind a huge dark boulder trotted a black Vulg, one of the scouts of the Horde. The horses snorted and shied, the pack animal rearing in panic, trying to break free, but Adaron held firm the lead line. The dark Vulgs baleful yellow eyes glared at the four, and writhing jaws snarled. Then this evil outrunner raised his slavering muzzle to the Winternight sky and loosed a yawling cry. Again the black brute voiced a wrawl to the Swarm, a cry answered by bone-chilling howls from other Vulgs, and Ghuls, too. Even as grey Arauka skirted the lead line was tied off and in almost an ethereal quickness Adaron had an arrow set to string and let it fly just as the Vulg gave vent to another ululating yowl, a cry that was chopped off in mid-howl as the true-sped arrow struck the black beast in the throat and it fell dead.

Leila shrieked softly when the arrow pierced the flesh of the beast. "He calls the others..." she said, her head snapping back to look around Brage. "And they have responded, I see them cresting the plateau!" she warned. "They will be within distance to see us soon. We must make haste."

Indeed, Ghul's on Helsteeds burst over the ridge and onto the plateau, snow flying from their cloven hooves as they came in answer to the howling summons. Hurtling alongside them raced black Vulgs, muzzles to the ground. The horses were spurred forward with kicks to their sides and the animals did not need to be told twice. And inwardly Gelan despaired, for he knew not how far they could fly, for the hard-running horses were already spent.

Solos jolted and raced onward. Leila reached behind her for a moment to make sure Brage was going to be all right back there holding on as the three steeds and packhorse raced across the snowy terrain. "King Gelan, they are gaining, the Vulgs have scented the horses!"

South they fled, across a snow-covered, broken land, south along a plateau caught between the looming flank of dark Grimspire to the east and a small mountain to the west: Redguard. And running on their trail behind them came Ghuls on Helsteeds, and Vulgs with their snouts to the track. Southward hammered the horses, the packhorse in tow, fleeing in panic from the chill Vulg howls. Long they ran and slowly gained ground on their pursuers, twisting through great rocks and spires, running across long, flat stretches.

"Is there no water body anywhere through here?" she called ahead to Gelan. "We have to make them lose our scent or else no matter how much distance we put between us they will track us 'til once more does snow fall!"

Gelan gave a shaking of his head; for there was no body of water. And still the horses were urged forward until suddenly the High King harshly reined Jet to a skidding halt on the brink of a great cliff falling sheer before them. "Leila!" Barked Gelan as Arauka came thundering up. "Use your eyes! Look for a way down!"

"My lord, I see a long sloping path down about fifty paces to our west, but about three miles past that is another brink much such as this and there is no guarantee that there will be a way down that one," she cautioned, not that they had much of a choice at this point.

Gelan gave a swift nod to the Gypsy. "We'll plunge down that one when we get there, not before." Then he spurred Jet towards the sloping path and turned and started down, and as they went below the level of the rim, Leila's last sight would show running Vulg's and Helsteeds on the upper plateau. The way down before them was narrow and icy, with sheer, frost-clad stone looming on the left and open space plunging perpendicularly to the right. Slowly, Jet picked his way down the treacherous course. Jet's hooves slipped along the ice, and each time the steed lurched, so too did Gelan's heart. The descent deemed to drag on without end as slowly they crept downward. And above, back upon the plateau, loping Vulgs and Ghuls on Helsteeds came.

"They begin their descent behind us, King Gelan..." Just then Solos slipped and jarred both riders before recovering his footing. "Brage? Are you still all right back there?" her head inclining a bit over her shoulder to see him.

Surprisingly enough, Brage was still astride the white steed, and latched onto Leila before him. The Dwarf glanced down the fall but once, then kept his eyes firmly fixed upon the Woman's back; when they weren't completely shut altogether. "I'm fine. Just keep an eye on what your doing."

At last Jet reached the bottom of the cliff, coming out upon another plateau, with the other horses right behind, and once more they ran to the south. As they hammered away, behind them the great stone massif jutted upward; nearby, a great crack was riven in its face, and west of the cleft, silhouetted against the spectral Shadowlight sky, came Drego's creatures. And when the Ghola saw the horses fleeing southward below, they set up a wild howling, for now they knew they pursued but four riders. One Ghol's howl rose up above the others, and they turned and made for the icy path, to work they way down after the quarry. Swiftly south the four rode, the gap widening between hunters and hunted, for the Ghuls were slowed by the descent. Two miles south the horses ran, to come to another sheer drop. This time there was no sloping path.

"Turn your horses eastward. There I see a canyon. It may be a way down, but other than that I see no other way, so I suggest you pray before we reach the edge!" East they ran then, to come to a canyon at their feet so narrow that it seemed a horse could perhaps leap its width. They could see no bottom, but it did breach the face of the massif that thwarted them. Back to the north they ran, back toward the Ghuls, the horses racing along the rim of the cleft, seeking to find its entrance. At last they came to where the narrow split emerged upon the plateau. A path led into the dark cranny. "In we go!" cried Gelan. "Else we are trapped long the rim wall."

Yet Brage called out, "Hold! I have a lantern. Follow us. I will light the way." Leila could see that the Ghuls had just reached the base of the distant cliff, but there was naught that could be done, and Vulgs loped across the flats. Brage fumbled in his pack and drew forth a crystal-and-brass lantern, throwing the shutter wide; and without a flame being kindled at all, a blue-green phosphorescent light leapt forth. "Go!" He urged Leila to move the massive beast beneath him.

And forward did they go down into the dark crevice. This did not seem like the safest place to go, but then again, there was little to be said for safe out here.

And as Solos went forward into the dark, behind him came Gelan on Jet and finally Adaron on Arauka, the packhorse following. Down a narrow, twisting corridor they went, Brage's high-held lantern casting swaying, pendulous shadows among the rocks and boulders, and blue-green light glinted and bounced amid the great icicles hanging down from the ragged, shadowed stone overhead. The sound of blowing horses and the clatter of hooves reverberated along the broken walls and echoed back from dark holes boring away, their ends beyond seeing. Above was a swatch of dim Shadowlight, jagging in a thin line, marking the rim of the narrow crevice they followed. Downward they went, ever deeper, twisting along a tortuous path, at times scraping against the ice-clad rock. At last a great vertical cleft filled with spectral Winternight glow was before them. They had come to the end. Out of the crack they rode, out into a broken hill country. "South we go, bearing west," called Gelan as Brage shuttered the lantern and returned it to his pack. "We strike for the Old Rell Way. And if ever we elude the curs at our heels, we'll make for Gunar Slot." And on they ran, black Vulgs following the scent, Ghuls on Helsteeds after.

Would this chase never end? Leila pitied the horses that bore them for she herself was getting fatigued in this chase.

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