Dennis McKiernan - The Brega path

King Durek saw the devastation, but he, too, did not comprehend, until at last he came upon Lord Kian. Nearby lay the axe Kian had carried back into battle: one bit broken, the other blade chipped and jagged, the helve cracked, the iron and oak now awash with black Grg-blood; Lord Kian had wielded it beyond its endurance, for his vengeance had been mighty. Kian also was drenched, some of it Squam gore, some of it his own blood, for he, too, was wounded-by spear thrust and scimitar cut-although not mortally; but Prince Rand was dead, slain by Troll War-bar. And Lord Kian huddled on the stone floor, hugging his brother's lifeless body to his breast, and he wept and rocked in distress.

Durek gazed on in sorrow, and Lord Kian looked up through his tears at the Dwarf. "When we were but lads," wept Kian, "we were in the market, and Rand took up a turtle-shell comb in his hand. And he laughed happily over the raft we had made and ridden to Rhondor and sold for two silver pennies. And Rand bought that comb for Mother, and we went home and gave it to her, and Rand glowed in the pleasure of her delight. We began planning a new raft: two children rejoicing in the flush of youth, as close in life as two brothers who loved one another could ever be. But now he is dead and nevermore will we laugh together, for the lad who plied rafts with me to Rhondor has now sailed without me on his final journey." And Lord Kian rocked and keened in his grief.

It was in this poignant moment of kin-death lamentation that at last the cost of the victory came clear to Durek. And the overwhelming despair of the War-loss uncontrollably welled up in the Dwarf King; and he quickly pulled his hood over his head, and his face fell into shadow, for no one should see the heartgrief of Dwarves-for to look upon Dwarf bale is to gaze upon sorrow beyond measure. And the Dwarf King sank to his knees and choked upon his own woe. His glistening tears fell to splash upon the stone, and great sobs racked his frame as he and Lord Kian and uncounted others grieved in deep despair along the wall behind the jumble and scree of fallen ziggurt. But the slain of the Death-War heeded them not.

Two weeks passed, and Perry's wound steadily healed. The black shaft had driven through muscle, all vital parts having been missed, and the barb had not been poisoned. Both Warrows' spirits, however, were greatly injured, for four out of every five of the Host had fallen, and nearly all of their comrades had perished. Cotton was often seen searching, looking for some sign of Bomar and the cook-waggon crew; but he found them not, for they had been slain in combat and were buried under tons of stone in the ruined War Hall; and he wept for them and for Rand and for all the others lost. And Perry, too, spent long days in anguish, remembering Delk and gruff Barak, and huge Ursor, and the ironfist brothers, Anval and Bonn. And the Warrows thought upon all the times that were, and they grieved for all the times that might have been but now would never be. Of their close companions, only Durek, Shannon, and Kian remained, and a desolate mood haunted them as well as each of those of the Host who had survived: King Durek looked upon his won Kingdom, but felt only grief. Lord Kian stood for long moments and stared without seeing into the dark corners of Kraggen-cor. Often someone-anyone-would be seen with his face buried in his hands. All were stunned by the overwhelming losses of their victory. And their heartgrief filled them.

On the seventh day after the battle, word came from the Dusk-Door of Brytta's safety and that of the Vanadurin; yet this good news caused no celebration, only quiet relief. Even the arrival on the tenth day of a force of Dylvana Elves from Darda Galion stirred little excitement. How the Elves had become aware of the victory, none knew-or would say although Cotton did overhear an Elf Captain speaking to Silverleaf, asserting, "We came at your summons, Alor Vanidar." But the buccan did not see how Shannon could have sent a message, and thus dismissed it from his mind.

At last Perry came to King Durek and said, "I can stand this sorrow no longer. My physical wound is well enough to travel"-and the Warrow flexed his fingers and turned his hand over and again, and then stiffly he eased his arm from the sling and set the cloth aside-"but my very being is sorely injured. I must go to a place of quiet and solitude, a place far removed from the reflections of War and evil memories, a place where pleasures are simple and time goes slowly. King Durek, I am reluming home to the Bosky, for The Root calls me with an irresistible voice, and I must answer, and rest, and be drawn forth from this bleak place where my heart and spirit have been driven."

And Durek saw that the Warrow was indeed injured far beyond what the eye could see. "Come with me," Durek rasped, and they strode forth from the Great Chamber, where the remnants of the Host were now quartered. Out through the north entrance they went, and up within the mountain. High they climbed, and higher still, mounting up stair upon stair delved within the stone of Stormhelm, passing through Rise after Rise; many times they rested, yet still they ascended, and the stair was ancient, but lightly trod. Once more they rested and then pressed on, and finally they entered a carven hall. But the Dwarf held his lantern high and led the Warrow into a dark, twisting crack with shoots branching off in many directions.

At last they came to a small but massy bronze door, and the rune-iaden surface flung brazen glints back unto the eye. The Dwarf King took hold of the handle-a great ring of brass-and muttered strange words under his breath; and then he turned his wrist, twisting the ring post, and pushed the door outward.

Bright light streamed in through the open portal, and blue sky could be seen beyond. The Dwarf King crossed over the bronze doorsill and bade Perry to follow. And blinking his watering eyes in the brilliance, his hand shading his sight, the Warrow stepped through into the light.

And Perry found he was upon a windswept ledge on a towering vertical face of stone on the outer flanks of RaVenor-of Stormhelm. High up he was, yet still the mountain reared above him, rising toward the snow-laden crest. A low parapet was before him, and there King Durek stood, leaning forward upon both hands and looking down into the land. But Perry shrank back from such a view, for the drop was sheer and awesome. Yet Durek turned and held out his hand, and in spite of his fright, Perry stepped forward and look it; and strength seemed to flow from Dwarf to Warrow, and never again was Perry to fear heights.

It was a rare day upon Ravenor, for no storm hammered its peak. The cold thin air was crystalline, and the endless sky was calm, and a few serene clouds drifted past. To the north and south the great backbone of the Grimwall marched off into the distance. The other three peaks of the Quadran- Aggarath and Uchan, south and southeast, and Ghatan, east- shouldered up nearby. The clear-eyed Warrow could see far and away: to Darda Galion and beyond; to the Great Argon River; even unto the eaves of Darda Erynian. Perry's vision swept outward, over the southwest borders of Riamon and into the North Reach of Valon, where perhaps horses thundered across the plains. And it seemed to Perry as if the very rim of Mithgar itself might be seen from here.

And Durek directed the Warrow's eyes down onto the Pitch, and like tiny specks, a work crew of Dwarven Folk could be seen fetching water from the Quadmere. And Durek and Perry looked deeper down into the Quadran, and there in a great fold of stone on Ghatan's flank stood the Vorvor, a whirling churning gurge deeply entwined in Dwarven legend: There a secret river burst forth from the underearth to rage around a great stone basin and plunge down into the dark again; and a great gaping whirlpool raved endlessly and sucked at the sky and funneled deep into the black depths below. Dwarves tell that when the world was young and First.Durek trod its margins, he came unto this place. And vile tlkhs, shouting in glee, captured him and from a high stone ledge they flung him into the spin, and the sucking maw drew him down. According to the legend, none else had e'er survived that fate; yet First Durek did, though how, it is not said. To the very edge of the Realm of Death, and perhaps beyond, he was taken, yet Life at last found him on a rocky shore within a vast, undelved, undermountain realm; and First Durek strode where none else had gone before-treading through that Kingdom which was to become Kraggen-cor. How he came again unto the light of day, it is not told; yet it said that Daun Gate stands upon the very spot where he walked out through the mountainside; but how he crossed the Great Deop remains an enigma, though some believe that he was aided by the Utruni-the Stone Giants. And the enmity with Squam began here too, more deadly than the ravening whirl of the rearing Vorvor.