Dan Parkinson - The Gates of Thorbardin

"Somebody's sheep," Chess noted. "I'll bet there's a pretty unhappy herder up there somewhere."

"I think we'd better get a little farther from this path," Chane decided. "Camping here would be like trying to sleep in a tunnelwagon turnaround. Rust, but the traffic is heavy."

They trudged along the ledge, away from the path, rounded a sheer bend, and saw a rubble-slope ahead. After testing it, Chane began to climb. The kender followed, carrying his goose. The bird was almost as big as he was.

They were climbing by moonlight when they reached a quiet swale higher up — well beyond and above the noisy switchback with its stampeding animals. "This will do," Chane said. "I'll make a cookfire back there, behind that outcrop. You can cook the goose."

"Did you get some snowberries?" Chess asked hopefully.

"I haven't had a chance. We'll do without."

By the time the goose was roasted, both the white moon and the red stood above the peaks, giving their dichromatic glow to the steep slopes and the forest-tops of the distant valley. The two ate in silence, except for occasional outbursts of commentary and chatter by the kender, most of which Chane Feldstone chose to ignore. The dwarf sat deep in thought, occasionally rubbing his forehead, which tingled when the light of the red moon touched it. A secret way into Thorbardin, and Grallen had learned of it. Like a third gate, he thought. One that nobody knew about.

He thought of Thorbardin, exploring in his mind all of the myriad ways and working clusters of the undermountain kingdom — as much of it as he had seen and could recall. Clearest to him in memory were the city of the

Daewar, the only home he had ever known, and the warrens where he had worked for his keep from time to time — first tending fields, then helping with the constant delving by which the dwarves sought to expand their underground crop lands. Clearly he recalled Twelfth Road, which he had passed so of ten as a child. Less distinctly he knew the Tenth, Eleventh,

Thirteenth, and Fourteenth Roads, by which Daewar conducted commerce with other cities of Thorbardin.

Dimly, from one brief visit, he recalled the awesome Life-Tree, home of the Hylar. Their city was delved into a giant stalactite above the great, subterranean Urkhan Sea. As an orphan Chane had possessed the appearance of Hylar in his build and features, and later even in the manner in which his beard lay back against his cheeks rather than hanging resignedly downward. The Hylar, he had thought as a child, had a fierce and noble appearance — and undoubtedly some among them had such qualities, though there were plenty of Hylar who in practice were no more noble than the average Daewar.

Still, Chanc's beard grew in the Hylar manner, and it did not displease him that it made him look as though he were standing sturdy and proud, facing down a strong wind.

The Valley of the Thanes, noblest place in all of Thorbardin, Chane had seen only once. He wondered briefly if the supposed "secret way" could lead there. The valley was sacred to the dwarves, for it contained a magical floating tomb — final resting place of the great King Duncan, some said. And the tomb of Grallen, which lay nearby on the lakeshore, was, after all, the only place in Thorbardin that was open to the sky. Yet the only accesses to the Valley of the Thanes were three roads from within

Thorbardin itself. And certainly if there were the slightest passage-point through the Guardian Walls, somebody within would have noticed it.

Not the Valley of the Thanes then, Chane decided.

And not Southgate, which was the common entrance to Thorbardin since the

Cataclysm, nor likely the mostly abandoned Northgate, with its shattered portal ledge. Northgate might be unused, Chane told himself, but it's not undefended. It was equipped for the same impenetrable defenses as

Southgate.

Possibly some long-forgotten tunnel or shielded pass breaking through into one of the warrens, or one of the lower cities? Kiar, Theiwar…

Daergar? It didn't seem likely to him. Surely someone would have noticed.

"There's a creature with long, flexible arms and not a bone in its body."

Chane looked up. "What? Where?"

"In the Sirrion Sea," the kender said. "Aren't you paying attention?

That's what I'm talking about. The Sirrion Sea. They also say that there is a gigantic island out there, just far enough from the Isle of Sancrist to be out of sight, that isn't an island at all. It's really a gnomish ship, hundreds and hundreds of years old, that was supposed to drive itself by a geared rod with a weight atop it. The reason it's in the sea, they say, is because the gnomes who built it set out westward and that was as far as they got before the falling rod buried itself in the ocean floor. They've been working on it ever since, trying to iron out all the bugs, and it just keeps getting bigger and bigger."

With a low growl, Chane Feldstone returned to his own thoughts. The

First Roads One of the Halls of Justice? There was so much to Thorbardin, so many different parts and places in the kingdom beneath the Kharolis

Mountains. Chane Feldstone had seen so few of them, and almost none of the outside perimeters and capping peaks that protected the dwarven kingdom.

Chane sighed and tried another tack.

Grallen had learned… so the Irda said… that there was a secret entrance, and that Thorbardin would be threatened by invasion because of that entrance. But where was it'! Grallen had not been in Thorbardin when he learned of that; he had been outside, fighting in the Dwarfgate Wars.

Grallen had not returned alive, but he had tried — or at least intended — to find the secret passage and block it somehow. The dwarf rubbed his chin. Where, then, did Grallen go? Using his crystal, Chane could see a green line that he intended to follow. It was, he trusted, Grallen's path.

And yet, where did it lead?

"Five unicorns," Chestal Thicketsway said.

Again the dwarf glanced around, startled. "Where7"

"What?"

"You said 'five unicorns.' Where?"

"Oh, all over," the kender shrugged. "I'm not even sure

I believe him, you know. Capstick Heelfeather has been known to exaggerate. But that's what he says. He says he has personally seen five unicorns. So far, I've only seen one."

"I wish that wizard would come back," the dwarf muttered.

"Why? I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't. I wouldn't trust that mage as far as I can spit, but he knows a lot of things about outside that I don't know."

"Is that all?" The kender brightened. "I've been outside all my life.

What do you want to know?"

"Well, to begin with, where exactly was Grallen when he died?"

"I haven't the foggiest notion," Chess said happily.

"Ask me something else." Shaking his head in exasperation, Chane went back to his puzzle. How am I supposed to find a secret entrance if no one has a clue to its location? he wondered. And even if there is a secret entrance, and I find it, what am I supposed to do about it? Apparently the only one who ever knew anything about any of this was Grallen, and he died a long, long time ago and never told anybody… did he?

Chane shook his head. If Grallen did tell someone about the entrance, why didn't somebody do something about it back then? Or since? Why me?

"Dwarves and humans," the kender said. "At least that's what I — "

"Will you please be quiet?" Chane stormed. "Can't you see I'm trying to think?"

"I'm just trying to tell you, there are dwarves and humans down there."

"Where?"

"On the path, where all the animals were. But the animals are mostly past now, and there are people over there, going down that path as fast as they can. Some of them are bleeding, too. I wonder what's going on."