Margaret Weis - Dragons of The Dwarven Depths

To give her credit, it wasn’t all fear of being ridiculed that kept her going. Tika’s heart was warm, her love for Caramon deep, and her fear for him very real. The idea that she might be able to save Caramon from Raistlin’s machinations kept her slogging along the trail. As for Tas, he was happy to be on the road to adventure once more.

The two reached the edge of the forest about midmorning and saw the trail snake across the barren, snow-covered field.

“Look, Tika!” Tas pointed excitedly, as they drew near the mountain. “There’s a cave. Their trail leads into a cave!”

Tas grabbed Tika’s hand and tugged at her, trying to hurry her along.

“I’m very fond of caves. You never know what you’re going to find inside. Did I ever tell you about the time I went into this cave and there were two ogres and they were playing at mumblety-peg, and at first they were going to tear me limb from limb and eat me, starting with my toes. I didn’t know this, but kender toes are considered a delicacy among ogres. Anyway, I told the ogres I was really good at mumblety-peg, better than either of them, and I wagered them that if I won, they wouldn’t eat me. Of course they had to play, because I had made a wager. The ogres handed me a knife, which I was supposed to throw, but instead I used the knife to stab the ogres in the knees. That way they couldn’t chase after me, and I escaped being eaten. Can you play mumblety-peg, Tika, in case ogres inside the cave want to eat us?”

“No,” said Tika. She did not like caves at all, and her heart was beating fast at the thought of going into one.

Tas was about to launch into more details about the ogres, but Tika ordered him to hush up and when he didn’t, she gave his topknot a yank and threatened to pull it out by the roots if he didn’t for mercy’s sake keep quiet and let her think.

Tas wasn’t sure what it was she had to think about, but he was fond of his topknot, and while he didn’t really believe Tika would pull it out, he didn’t want to take any chances. She’d gone very pale and tight-lipped, and whenever she thought he wasn’t looking, she wiped away a tear. The footprints they were following led straight to the cave, which turned out to be a tunnel. There were muddy boot prints inside, large muddy boot prints. Tika knew Caramon and the others had come this way.

“Light the lantern!” Tas said. “Let’s see what’s down here.”

“I didn’t bring a lantern,” Tika said in dismay.

“Never mind!” cried Tas, rooting around in the darkness. “I found a whole stack of torches.”

“Oh, good,” said Tika. She stared into the darkness that stretched on and on ahead of them, and she felt her knees go weak and her stomach turn to jelly.

Tas had managed to light one of the torches, and he was walking all around the cave, peering into the carts and stopping to scan the walls. “Hey, look, Tika! Come here! Look at this!” Tika didn’t want to look. She wanted to turn and run, run all the way back to camp. Then Tas would tell everyone that Tika had run away like a big scared baby. Gritting her teeth, Tika went to see what he’d found, hoping it wasn’t too horrible.

Tas was pointing at the wall. There, scrawled in charcoal, was a heart. In the middle of the heart was the word “Tika”.

“I’ll bet Caramon drew that,” said Tas, grinning.

“I’ll bet he did, too,” said Tika softly. She reached out and took the flaring torch from the kender.

“Follow me,” she said, and feeling her own heart soar to the heavens with happiness, she led the way along the tunnel, deeper into the darkness.

Flint and Tanis edged their way through the pass that wasn’t so much as a pass as a large gap. Tanis envisioned the refugees trying to cross this rocky, narrow defile, their children in tow, and he hoped fervently it wouldn’t come to that. They spent most of the morning navigating among the boulders and scrambling over rock slides, finally emerging after hours of toil on the other side.

Using his battle-axe, Flint pointed. “Well, there you are, Half-Elven,” he said. “Thorbardin.” Tanis looked down at the landscape spread beneath him. Ash-gray plains led into dark green foothills, thick with pine trees, from which soared the gray blank face of the tallest mountain peak in the Kharolis chain.

Tanis regarded the mountain in bleak dismay. “There’s nothing there.”

“Aye,” said Flint in gloomy satisfaction. “Just like I told you.” The dwarf had indeed told him, but Flint had a tendency to exaggerate and embellish his tales a mite now and then, particularly those tales having to do with the wrongs, perceived or otherwise, suffered by his people. Search as Tanis might, he could see no sign of anything resembling a gate on the mountain side or even a place where one might put a gate.

“Are you sure Thorbardin is there?” Tanis asked.

Flint rested his weight on the battle-axe and gazed steadily at the mountain.

“I was born and raised hereabouts. The bones of my ancestors lie on the plains below us. They died because our cousins closed the gates of that mountain on them. Cloudseeker casts a shadow over us all. Each and every one of us hill dwarves sees it loom large in his dreams. I’m not likely to forget this place.”

Flint spit on the ground. “That’s Thorbardin.”

Tanis sighed deeply, scratched his beard and asked himself, “What in the Abyss do I do now?” He had no hope at all that he would be successful in his mission. Neither he nor Flint had any idea where to even start looking for the lost gate to the dwarven kingdom. They could spend years traipsing across the face of Cloudseeker. The greedy and the desperate had been searching for this gate for three hundred years and never found it. There was no reason to think he and Flint would be the ones to succeed where so many had failed.

Tanis considered giving up. He went so far as to half-turn, look back the way they’d come, and even take a step in that direction, but he found he couldn’t do it. He could not admit defeat, not yet.

Flint stood leaning on the battle-axe, watching his friend turn first one way and then the other. When Tanis turned around again, Flint nodded.

“We’re to keep going then,” he said.

“You know as well as I do that it’s only a matter of time before Verminaard attacks,” Tanis said, adding in frustration, “There must be a way inside Thorbardin! Just because no one else has discovered it…”

“After all, the gods are with us,” Flint observed.

Tanis eyed his friend to see if the dwarf had spoken sarcastically or if he was serious. Tanis couldn’t tell. The dwarf’s expression was unreadable, much of it hidden behind his full beard and shaggy eyebrows.

“Do you believe the gods are with us?” Tanis asked. “Do you believe what Elistan and Goldmoon have been teaching?”

“Hard to say,” said Flint, and he appeared uncomfortable talking about it. He cast Tanis a sidelong glance. “I take you don’t?”

“I want to.” Tanis shook his head. “But I can’t.”

“We’ve seen miracles,” Flint pointed out. “Riverwind was burnt to a crisp by a black dragon. Elistan was brought back from the brink of death.”

“And Verminaard brought back from the dead, as well,” said Tanis dryly. “I’ve seen Raistlin scatter a few rose petals and cause goblins to fall sound asleep at his feet.”

“That’s different,” Flint growled.

“Why? Because it’s magic? Magic or no, one could call such things ‘miraculous’.”

“I call them accursed,” Flint muttered.

“All I know for certain,” Tanis said, smiling, “is that the only being who walks with me is you, my friend.” He clapped Flint on the shoulder. “I could not ask for a better companion. Gods included.”