Dan Parkinson - The Gates of Thorbardin

"If he had, it seems like he'd have mentioned it."

"Did he say anything about where he was going!"

"Up on a mountain. Said he couldn't see down here. He didn't say which mountain, though." The kender shaded his eyes, gazing into the distance.

"What do you suppose that is?"

Chane looked up, saw where the kender was pointing, and gazed in that direction. "I don't see anything."

"I don't either, now. But I thought I saw a big white bird." Chess squinted, then cocked his head. "There it is again. See? Way off there to the north. I wonder what that is."

Chane saw it too, then — a white, winged shape gliding over the forest, miles away. It looked vaguely like a giant seagull. "I don't know," he said. "But whatever it is, it's not what I'm looking for." He stood, glanced around, then headed east again, toward a very large mound of ice some distance away from any others.

Chess watched the distant white thing for a few minutes, then tired of that. He couldn't tell what it was, and it didn't show any sign of coming close enough for a better look. He climbed one of the mounds — beneath his feet, vague dwarf-shapes did perpetual, motionless battle — and looked around. "Now what?" he wondered.

"Go west," something voiceless seemed to say.

"I wasn't talking to you, Zap," Chess scolded. "I was talking to myself.

Besides, the only reason you want me to go west is to get far enough from that Spellbinder thing the dwarf has so that you can happen. Right?"

"Right," something mournful agreed.

"I've been west, anyway," Chess added.

"Woe," Zap grieved.

"I wish that dwarf would find what he's looking for," the kender muttered. "I'm ready to go see something new." He started down from the ice-mound, then ducked as a huge shadow swept over him. Clinging to the ice, he looked up. The white thing was no longer far away. It was directly overhead now, spiraling downward, slanted wings carrying it in great descending circles as it came lower and lower. Fifty feet up it leveled out, seemed to stall, then crept toward him and hovered just overhead. A head appeared alongside one wing, and a voice floated down. "Hey! Are you from around here?"

"Of course not!" Chess called back. "I'm just visiting. What is that thing?"

"It's my soarwagon. It still needs a little design modification but I'm working on it. Right now, though, I'm looking for cats. Have you seen any cats?"

"Not lately," the kender admitted. '"There were some dandies around here when I first got here, but they've all gone now. Are you going to come down?"

"I can't." The flier shook his head. "Ground effect, I think. Do you have any foods"

"A little. Dried meat and flatbread. Why?"

"How about raisins? Do you have raisins?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, whatever you have will just have to do," the flier called. A rope began to descend from the white thing, with a small basket tied to its end. "How about sending some up?"

Chess dug around in his pack. There were all sorts of things in it, mostly just odds and ends he had picked up, and in most cases he didn't recall where or why. The kender found dried meat and a few flatbreads he had picked up in the Irda's hut. The basket descended on its rope, and when he could reach it Chess deposited some of what he had in it. The food was hauled upward.

"Why are you looking for cats?" Chess called.

"Some people wanted to know about them. Man called Wingover. He's sure this valley is full of cats, so I came to see. I haven't found any."

"They're the Irda's cats. She went away, and I guess they went with her.

You're a gnome, aren't you?"

"I am. Bobbin's the name."

"I'm Chestal Thicketsway. Do you know anything about old gnomish engines? Like siege engines from ages back? There are several of those off that direction, but I couldn't tell much about them."

"Neither can I," Bobbin said. "I'm insane."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. Another thing that Wingover and his bunch asked about was a dwarf. Any dwarves around here?"

"Hundreds," Chess waved his arms around him.

"Everywhere you look, but they're frozen under the ice. Been there a long time."

"No, the one I'm looking for is more recent. Dwarf named, er, Chain something — " The gnome pointed. 'Who's that?"

Chane Feldstone had appeared from behind a distant mound, and was hurrying toward the kender and the soarwagon.

"He's a dwarf," Chess said. "He might be the one. Name's Chane

Feldstone. What do they want him for?"

"I don't know. Does he always dress like that? What is that outfit? A bunny suit?"

"Catskin," the kender explained.

A vagrant wind whispered across the ice field and made the white bird dip and bobble. The gnome did something, and abruptly the flying thing shot high in the sky, so high that it was only a winged dot overhead.

Slowly it seemed to steady, then started going in wide circles.

Chane reached the mound where the kender stood. "Who is that?" he demanded. "What is he doing up there?"

"His name is Bobbin. He's a gnome."

"What is he doing?"

"Looking for cats."

"Up there?" Chane squinted upward, trying to follow the circling path of the flying thing. "What is he riding?"

"Something unreliable, it seems to me," Chess said. "All he said was that some people sent him to look for cats and he hasn't seen any. Oh, and somebody named Wingover asked about you."

"Me?"

"Might be you. Do you know him?"

Chane scratched his beard. The name did sound familiar, as though he might have heard someone mention it sometime. Then he remembered.

"Wingover's a human. Rogar Goldbuckle thinks he's crazy."

"No, it's the gnome who's crazy. He said so himself."

"Why would Wingover ask about me? I don't even know him."

"Maybe you're becoming famous," the kender suggested. "Look, the gnome is coming down again. Every time he goes in one of those circles he gets lower. Wow! That looks like fun."

"Fun," something voiceless said.

Chane jumped and looked around, then clenched his teeth. "I wish that spell would stop talking," he growled.

"It makes me nervous."

"Shut up, Zap," the kender said offhandedly. 'You just want to get away from the Spellbinder."

"Need to," Zap whispered.

"Oh, he's going away," Chess sighed.

"Your spell?"

"No, the flying gnome. See? He's heading south. Oh, well. Easy come, easy go."

"It doesn't matter," Chane said. "I found something, finally." He walked away, back in the direction he had just come. The kender climbed off the mound and scampered after him.

The large mound was east of all the rest, and well apart from them. It was a grotesquely shaped mound of ice more than a hundred feet long, stretching from north to south in a shallow curve. Even from a distance, the shadowy figures inside were visible as dark silhouettes a line of armed dwarves in defense position, fighting to hold off a force twice their strength.

"It looks like a rear-guard action," Chess decided.

"It does to me, too. But what I found is beyond it." Chane led the way around one end of the long mound, then part way back along its opposite side. He stopped and pointed. "See?"

The kender looked, blinked and looked again, then shrugged. "See what?

The end of the ice field? The slope beyond? That range of peaks?"

"The path," Chane said. "Look. It looks like a faint green trail, heading east. Can't you see it?"

"I don't see anything like that. Are you sure you — " He stopped and stared at Chane. "Do you realize that the red spot on your forehead turned green for a moment?"

Chane raised a tentative hand to touch his forehead. His eyes widened, then he opened his belt pouch and took out the Spellbinder. He took a deep breath. "Well, the gem's still red. I thought for a minute maybe it had turned green, too."