Raymond E. Feist - The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy - Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon

Dolgan shouted over the roar, ‘Ages ago the river Wynn-Ula ran from the Grey Towers to the Bitter Sea. A great quake opened a fissure under the river, and now it falls into a mighty underground lake below. As it runs through the rocks, it picks up the minerals that give it its glowing colors.’ They stood quietly for a while, marveling at the sight of the falls of Mac Mordain Cadal.

The Duke signaled for the march to resume, and they moved on. Besides the spectacle of the falls, they had been refreshed by spray and cool wind off them, for the caverns were dank and musty. Onward they went, deeper into the mines, past numberless tunnels and passages. After a time, Gardan asked the boys how they fared. Pug and Tomas both answered that they were fine, though tired.

Later they came to yet another cavern, and Dolgan said it was time to rest the night. More torches were lit, and the Duke said, ‘I hope we have enough brands to last the journey. They burn quickly.’

Dolgan said, ‘Give me a few men, and I will fetch some old timbers for a fire. There are many lying about if you know where to find them without bringing the ceiling down upon your head.’

Gardan and two other men followed the dwarf into a side tunnel, while the others unloaded the mules and staked them out. They were given water from the waterskins and a small portion of grain carried for the times when they could not graze.

Borric sat next to Kulgan. ‘I have had an ill feeling for the last few hours. Is it my imagining, or does something about this place bode evil?’

Kulgan nodded as Arutha joined them. ‘I have felt something also, but it comes and goes. It is nothing I can put a name to.’

Arutha hunkered down and used his dagger to draw aimlessly in the dirt. ‘This place would give anyone a case of the jumping fits and starts. Perhaps we all feel the same thing: dread at being where men do not belong.’

The Duke said, ‘I hope that is all it is. This would be a poor place to fight’ – he paused – ‘or flee from.’ The boys stood watch, but could overhear the conversation, as could the other men, for no one else was speaking in the cavern and the sound carried well. Pug said in a hushed voice, ‘I will also be glad to be done with this mine.’

Tomas grinned in the torchlight, his face set in an evil leer. ‘Afraid of the dark, little boy?’

Pug snorted. ‘No more than you, should you but admit it. Do you think you could find your way out?’

Tomas lost his smile. Further conversation was interrupted by the return of Dolgan and the others. They carried a good supply of broken timbers, used to shore up the passages in days gone by. A fire was quickly made from the old, dry wood, and soon the cavern was brightly lit.

The boys were relieved of guard duty and ate. As soon as they were done eating, they spread their cloaks. Pug found the hard dirt floor uncomfortable, but he was very tired, and sleep soon overtook him.

They led the mules deeper into the mines, the animal’s hooves clattering on the stone, the sound echoing down the dark tunnels. They had walked the entire day, taking only a short rest to eat at noon. Now they were approaching the cavern where Dolgan said they were to spend their second night. Pug felt a strange sensation, as if remembering a cold chill. It had touched him several times over the last hour, and he was worried. Each time he had turned to look behind him. This time Gardan said, ‘I feel it too, boy, as if something is near.’

They entered another large glory hole, and Dolgan stood with his hand upraised. All movement ceased as the dwarf listened for something. Pug and Tomas strained to hear as well, but no sounds came to them. Finally the dwarf said, ‘For a time I thought I heard . . . but then I guess not. We will camp here.’ They had carried spare timber with them and used it to make a fire.

When Pug and Tomas left their watch, they found a subdued party around the fire. Dolgan was saying, ‘This part of Mac Mordain Cadal is closest to the deeper, ancient tunnels. The next cavern we come to will have several that lead directly to the old mines. Once past that cavern, we will have a speedy passage to the surface. We should be out of the mine by midday tomorrow.’

Borric looked around. ‘This place may suit your nature, dwarf, but I will be glad to have it behind.’

Dolgan laughed, the rich, hearty sound echoing off the cavern walls. ‘It is not that the place suits my nature, Lord Borric, but rather that my nature suits the place. I can travel easily under the mountains, and my folk have ever been miners. But as to choice, I would rather spend my time in the high pastures of Caldara tending my herd, or sit in the long hall with my brethren, drinking ale and singing ballads.’

Pug asked, ‘Do you spend much time singing ballads?’

Dolgan fixed him with a friendly smile, his eyes shining in the firelight. ‘Aye. For winters are long and hard in the mountains. Once the herds are safely in winter pasture, there is little to do, so we sing our songs and drink autumn ale, and wait for spring. It is a good life.’

Pug nodded. ‘I would like to see your village sometime, Dolgan.’

Dolgan puffed on his ever-present pipe. ‘Perhaps you will someday, laddie.’

They turned in for the night, and Pug drifted off to sleep. Once in the dead of night, when the fire had burned low, he awoke, feeling the chilling sensation that had plagued him earlier. He sat up, cold sweat dripping down his body, and looked around. He could see the guards who were on duty, standing near their torches. Around him he saw the forms of sleeping bodies. The feeling grew stronger for a moment, as if something dreadful was approaching, and he was about to wake Tomas when it passed, leaving him tired and wrung out. He lay back down and soon was lost in dreamless sleep.

He awoke cold and stiff. The guards were readying the mules, and soon they would all leave. Pug roused Tomas, who protested at being pulled from his dream. ‘I was in the kitchen at home, and Mother was preparing a large platter of sausages and corn cakes dripping with honey,’ he said sleepily.

Pug threw a biscuit at him. ‘This will have to do until Bordon. Then we shall eat.’

They gathered together their meager provisions, loaded them on the mules, and set off. As they made their way along, Pug began to experience the icy feeling of the night before. Several times it came and went. Hours passed, and they came to the last great cave. Here Dolgan stopped them while he looked into the gloom. Pug could hear him saying, ‘For a moment I thought . . .’

Suddenly the hairs on Pug’s neck stood up, and the feeling of icy terror swept over him, more horrible than before. ‘Dolgan, Lord Borric!’ he cried. ‘Something terrible is happening!’

Dolgan stood stock-still, listening. A faint moan echoed from down another tunnel.

Kulgan shouted, ‘I feel something also.’

Suddenly the sound repeated, closer, a chilling moan that echoed off the vaulted ceiling, making its origins uncertain.

‘By the gods!’ shouted the dwarf. ‘’Tis a wraith! Hurry! Form a circle, or it will be upon us and we’ll be lost.’

Gardan pushed the boys forward, and the guards moved the mules to the center of the cavern. They quickly staked the two mules down and formed a circle around the frantic animals. Weapons were drawn. Gardan placed himself before the two boys, forcing them back near the mules. Both had swords out, but held them uncertainly. Tomas could feel his heart pound, and Pug was bathed in cold sweat. The terror that gripped him had not increased since Dolgan had put a name to it, but it had not lessened either.

They heard the sharp hiss of intaken breath and looked to the right. Before the soldier who had made the sound, a figure loomed out of the darkness: a shifting man-shape, darker blackness against the black, with two glowing, red-coal lights where eyes should be.