Dennis McKiernan - The Brega path

Cotton's heart gave a lurch at these ominous words. "Wull, if that's true, Sir, then that means that Marshal Brytta may have met up with more than he bargained for; and that would be news I'd rather not know about." Yet, in spite of his remarks, Cotton fretted over the fate of the riders of the Valanreach, and would have given much to know their state of health and their whereabouts.

At that very moment, it was early morning in the Ragad Valley, and Brytta, at the fore of the Harlingar, had just ridden in to find the vale empty of all but his kinsman Farlon and the Dwarven wounded, preparing to embark on the journey south to the grassy valley.

Farlon was overjoyed to see the Vanadurin arrive, for he had longed to know their lot; and now he could see that most were safe, though his searching eyes failed to find some of his comrades in the column. Too, he felt relief, for now he would have escort in moving the wounded. And now, also, the herd could be driven south, and not left to wander the wold. The horses had been loosed, yet in their lameness had not gone from the valley.

At Brytta's query, Farlon explained that it was he who had fired the recall beacon atop the great spire of the Sentinel Stand after the Door had opened and the Host had entered. Brytta then ordered that more wood for yet another signal fire be laid high upon the towering spike to call the riders back should Wrg come fleeing out of the Dusk-Door; the top of the spire was the best place for the beacon, for, as reported by Farlon, a fire upon the tall spire should clearly be visible from the southern pasture. Three scouts, Trell, Egon, and Wylf, were named to this balefire duty. Taking turns, one of the trio always would be atop the stand to set the beacon ablaze if the Rutcha came. As Brytta said when he gave over the guard duty to the three, "I'm certain you would rather ward against a danger that never comes, than to wait with the rest of us in a pasture watching horses crop grass."

Then Brytta and the Harlingar rounded up the horses and waggons bearing the wounded and began- the drive south, following Farlon's lead. And Farlon was pleased, for not only was he reunited with his fellow Vanadurin, he also was fulfilling the pledge he had made to Prince Rand and to that fiery little Waldan, Cotton: a pledge to guide the wounded Dwarves to safe haven.

But neither Perry nor Cotton knew of those events then occurring in the Ragad Valley, and so they fretted over the unknown fate of the Harlingar; yet in spite of this uncertainty, Perry had nearly regained his former pluck. Even so, when they came to the Bottom Chamber, where last he had seen the missing trio of companions, Perry's high spirits crashed.

The Chamber was empty of Spawn; the word of a Dwarf army had passed ahead of the Host, and the Rucks and Hloks had fled before them. As the Legion marched across the arch over the stream and into the huge round room, Perry looked toward the notch in the north wall; no light came through it from the cavern beyond. "There, Prince Rand," said the Warrow, pointing, "mere's where Lord Kian, Shannon Silverleaf, and Ursor the Baeran misled the Rucks."

Rand looked on bleakly as they tramped by. Suddenly the Prince ran to the cleft and down its length, and peered into the black cave beyond, and whistled a shrill call that echoed and shocked along the cavern to be lost in its dark distance. Twice more he whistled, and each time at echo's death he was answered only by ebon silence. When he returned to-the column, his face bore a stricken look, and he spoke not. Peny, too, fell into mute despair. And the Army marched on.

Here Cotton took over the guide chores from Bonn; the Host now began moving into the corridors between the Bottom Chamber and the Grate Room, a part of the Brega Path not yet trod by Borin, for the Squad had fled through the Gargon's Lair instead.

Bane's blade-jewel spoke only of distant danger, and the long column soon reached the Side Hall, where the floor of

the corridor began its long, gentle upward slope out of the lower Neaths and toward the upper Rises. During this part of the trek, Cotton chatted gaily, trying mightily to draw Perry out of his biack mood, but to no avail.

As they marched away from the Side Hall, Bane began to glimmer more strongly, and word was passed that Squam were coming nigh. They tramped for two more miles and Bane's light slowly faded; but then a great hubbub washed over the Legion from the rear of the column. "Hey," questioned Cotton, "what's all mis commotion about?" But no one there could answer him.

Finally, word was passed up-column to Durek that a large force of Rucks had boiled out of the Side Hall and had atacked the rear guard of the Host. A savage battle had ensued, and the Spawn were once again routed, but this time some Dwarves had fallen in the fight.

"So it begins at last," rasped Durek. "The foul Grg will harass and ambush us from coverts until Gnar musters his forces for battle. Pass the word that the War has begun. Henceforth, the slain shall lie where they are felled, and we shall remain unhooded until the last battle is done."

The march began again, and now Cotton fell into a black mood too, for he knew not the lot of Bomar, Captain of the Rear Guard, nor the fate of his friends of the cook-waggon crew. But though the Warrow fretted, he continued to guide well, and the Legion made good time in their trek toward the Grate Room. Again Bane's rune-jewel began to glow brighter as they marched east; and the nearer they came to the Room, the more luminous became the blue flame. They trod swiftly, and the vanguard of Felor's forces gripped their axes in readiness as they quickstepped up the passageway. And then from ahead they heard a great shouting of maggot-foik and a clatter of weapons.

Felor's companies sprang forward, and they raced toward the last turn before the Grate Room. As they rounded the curve, up a long straight corridor they could see torchlight, and there were Spawn clamoring and milling about the door of the Room, battering it with hammers and a ram. Momentarily, the Rucken band did not see the Dwarves; and Felor's Companies made many running strides toward the enemy before the Host was detected; and then it was too late, for the Rucks had not enough time to array themselves to meet the rush. There was a clash of axes on scimitars, and the Spawn were borne backwards by the charge. Again the battle was swift and savage: the Dwarves hewed the Squam, and black Rucken gore splashed the stone as the maggot-folk were felled.

And in the midst of the fray, Perry saw the Grate Room door fly open, and out sprang two tall, face-blackened figures ready to join the fight. It was Lord Kian! And Shannon Silverleaf! They were alive!

From a distance, Prince Rand, too, saw his besmudged brother and gave a shrill whistle, and he and Kian looked upon one another, and they were glad. Then Rand raised his sword and inclined his head toward the retreating Spawn, and they both plunged after the Dwarves to join the battle against the foe.

Perry shouted in his glee. His friends were safe! But, wait… where was Ursor? As the battle receded before him, Perry made his way to the Grate Room and stepped in. The Warrow saw that two of the iron stone-wedges, tools carried for work on the gate, had been used to jam the door of the Room against the maggot-folk. Perry could see the corroded grille had been wrenched away from the square shaft, and the dark hole gaped at him; cautiously looking into it, he could see nought but the massive, rust-stained chain dropping down sheer, strait walls into the blackness below. Shuddering, Perry turned away and found Kian's and Shannon's backpacks. But of the Baeran, the room was empty of all sign. Fearing the worst, Perry scooped up the wedges and packs and stepped back into the corridor, to find Cotton searching for him.