Dennis McKiernan - The Brega path

Three hours earlier, the Host had stood before the Dusk-Door, and Durek had said the words of power, and by moonlight and starshine and Dwarf lantern the theen tracery and runes and sigils had. appeared.

Durek caught up his weapon by the helve and stepped back from the high portal; all that remained was for him to say the Wizard-word for "move," and the Door, if able, would open. The Dwarf turned to Cotton, Rand, and Felor. ''Stand ready,'' he warned, ' 'for we know not whom we meet.''

Cotton gripped his sword and felt the great pressure of the moment rising inside him and he felt as if he needed to shout, but instead he thought, Let Mister Perry be at the Door and not no Ruck.

Durek turned back to the Door and gripped his axe; he placed his free hand within the glittering rune-circle; then his voice rang out strongly as he spoke the Wizard-word of opening: "Gaard!"

The glowing web of Wizard-metal flashed brightly, and then-as if being drawn back into Durek's hand-all the lines, sigils, and glyphs began to retract, fading in sparkles as they withdrew, until once again the dark granite was blank and stern. And Durek stepped back and away. And slowly the stone seemed to split in twain as two great doors appeared and soundlessly swung outward, arcing slowly, the black slot between them growing wider and wider, becoming a great ebon gape as the doors wheeled in silence, til at last they came to rest against the Great Loom.

A dark opening yawned before the vanguard of the Legion, and they could see the beginnings of the West Hall receding into blackness; to the right a steep stairwell mounted up into the ebon shadows. And those in the fore of the Host-weapons gripped, thews tensed, hearts thudding, hackles up-stared with chary eyes at the empty darkness looming mutely before them.

And they were astonished and baffled, for no one was there, neither friend nor foe, only silent dark stone!

And of all those in the vanguard, only one did not seem rooted in place: "Mister Perry!" shouted Cotton, and before any could stop him, he sprang through the doorway and bolted up the stairs, holding his lantern high and calling as he ran: "Mister Perry! Mister Perry!" he cried, but his voice was answered only by mocking echoes: Mister… ister… Perry… erry… cry — — ister… erry… ery… y…

"Cotton! Wait!" shouted Rand, breaking the grip of his bedazement. " 'Ware Spaunen.'" And he and Durek and Felor and the forefront of the Host leapt forward after the Warrow. And they could see the light of Cotton's lantern dashing up the steps far above them to disappear from sight over the top.

"Fool!" Prince Rand cursed the Waerling's rashness, and sprang up the steps two at a time, his long shanks outdistancing the Dwarves behind. The steps were many, and soon he was breathing deeply, for the climb was strenuous; but in a trice he o'ertopped the last one. Ahead and around a bend he found Cotton at the first side passage, his lantern held high, peering through the arch and into the dark. Several swift strides brought the Prince to the Warrow's side. "Cotton," he gritted through clenched teeth, angered by the Waerling's thoughtless actions.

"He… he's not here, Prince Rand," stammered the Warrow, turning in anguish to the Man. "Mister Perry's not here,"

"Cotton, you are our only guide. The Yrm…" but ere Rand could say on, he saw that the Waerling was weeping quietly.

"I know, Sir. I know," sobbed Cotton, miserably. "I've acted the fool, rushing in like I did, and all. But Mister Perry wasn't there, and I couldn't stand it. I just had to see, had to see for myself. But he's not here at all. He's not here; the Squad's not here; the Rucks are not here; nobody's here. But the Door opened. It opened!"

There was a clatter of weaponry and a slap of boots and a jingle of armor as Durek and Felor and the vanguard of the Host topped the stairs and started forward, their sharp eyes sweeping the shadows.

"As you say, Cotton, the Door opened," replied Rand, "yet no one met us. Mayhap the Squad was here, for the Door worked."

"Wull, if they were here, where are they now?" Cotton demanded.

"I know not," replied Rand, his voice grim. "Perhaps Spawn…" His words trailed off.

"Spawn!" cried Cotton, bitterly, turning as Durek strode up.

King Durek stood before the Warrow, an angry glim in his eyes. "Cotton," he gritted, "the fate of this quest lies in your hands, for where you lead, we must follow. Without you, we are lost. Henceforth, stay at hand where our axes may protect you; never again dash off into the dark alone." The Dwarf King's voice held the bite of command that brooked no disobedience, and the Waeran nodded meekly. "As to these empty halls," continued Durek, his flinty eyes sweeping the passage, "we can only press forward and hope to Find the Squad of Kraggen-cor safe, and not Grg-endangered, or worse."

"Grg-endangered? Worse?" blurted out Cotton. Then his viridian eyes became fell and resolute. "Let's go," he said sternly. "We've got to find Mister Perry and the others."

And at a nod from Durek, the Warrow went forth, with Rand at one side, Durek and Felor at the other, and four thousand axes behind. And along the Brega Path they strode.

A mile went by, and another, and yet one more, and still they saw no sign of life, friendly or otherwise. Only dark splits and black fissures and delved tunnels did they see, boring off into the ebon depths. Through this shadowy maze, Cotton unerringly led. And the axes of the Dwarves stood ready, but no foe appeared. Another mile, and another, and still more; and time trod on silent feet at their side. An hour had passed, no, two, then a third; and swiftly they marched into the depths of Drimmen-deeve.

Suddenly: "Hist.1" warned Felor, and held up his hand, and the command quickly passed back-chain and the Army ground to a silent halt.

In the quiet they could hear the far-off yammering of many voices-yelling and howling-yet they could make out no words. Ahead in the curving tunnel they could see a glimmer of distant light dimly reflected around the bend.

"They know not that we are here," hissed Durek. "Weapons ready! Forward!"

And the Host moved swiftly, running now to catch the foe unaware and suddenly fall upon them. Forward they dashed, toward the Long Hall just ahead. And as they ran they could hear more shouts-battle cries, it seemed-their meaning lost in reverberating echoes. Ahead the light grew brighter as the oncoming force neared. And suddenly bursting into view came three forms running.

At first Cotton thought that these three figures plunging headlong at him and the Army were Rucks, for the faces of Perry, Anval, and Bonn were covered with blackener, and Perry's starsilver armor was hidden beneath his shirt; and,so this charging trio did not at all look like the friends and companions that Cotton had last seen by the Argon River. But as the three ran toward the vanguard, Cotton saw the flaming sword borne by the one and the Dwarf axes of the other two and the Dwarf-lanterns the trio carried, and by these tokens alone he knew that they were not Rucks. And suddenly mere came a voice he recognized, a voice calling his name: "Cotton! Cotton!"

"It's Mister Perry!" cried Cotton, and he leapt forward, running to meet his master.

"Mister Perry! Mister Perry!" he shouted and wept at one and the same time, for when the portals of Dusk-Door had silently swung outward and none of the Squad of Kraggen-cor had been waiting inside, Cotton had feared the worst. But he had led the Army along the Brega Path in spite of his fears. And here were Mister Perry and two Dwarves seven miles from the Door, alive after all.

As the two Warrows ran together and embraced one another, Anval shouted, "King Durek, Squam pursue us! A hundred fly at our heels!"