Sword of the MacLachlan - 9. Bowling Green to Tor Myddin

The Royal Road wove its way up and down gentle hills and around smooth curves as Patrick and his companions approached Bowling Green. Broad pastures lined the road. There, new colts were being taught to walk and run by their sires and dams. The farmsteads were very much alike: large, strong-looking houses with large, strong-looking barns connected by enclosed walkways.

 

“Look at that horse!” Kenneth exclaimed over and over. “Look at that one! You never told me your home was like this…”

 

The town, itself, was well fortified. The walls were stone. The gates looked heavy, and were large enough only for a single mounted person to pass. Outside the gates were shelters…little more than thatch roofs on poles, without walls. These shelters served as the marketplace; no wagons could pass through the gates, although the companions saw several people pulling or pushing narrow, wheeled handcarts carrying food, animal feed, and other things less easily identified.

 

By previous agreement, James rode at the head of the party.

 

“James! Is that you?” was the unorthodox challenge of the guard at the gate.

 

James jumped from his horse and greeted the young tween, “Yes, Jeremy, it is. And how are you?”

 

“I’m fine, James. Your family will be happy to see you. Uh...I should ask you…”

 

“Don’t bother to ask, Jeremy. Yes, I stand for these, my companions and will report with them to the Constable…my father…as soon as you let us pass.”

 

“Uh, okay…Pass.”

 

James gave the young tween a quick hug and a kiss. “I’m glad to see you, Jeremy,” he whispered. “Come to visit us soon.”

 

The companions were surprised to see that everyone in the town was mounted. In fact, it seemed that there were as many horses as people. Every building had a hitching rail in front of it; the streets were wide in contrast to the narrow gates. Buildings were two and three stories high, but rather than overhanging the street, the upper stories were set back, leaving the streets clear, open, and bright.

 

James led the companions to a stone house and dismounted, tying Horse to the rail. “This is my father’s house. Please, come on in. He’s said my friends were always welcome…although I’ve never brought this many home, before. Your horses will be safe here. We’ll move them to the stable later.”

 

As the companions dismounted and tied their horses, James walked toward the house. Before he was halfway there, a door opened and a blur of green with wild, black hair caromed off the door and slammed into James.

 

The boy had climbed up James and wrapped his legs around the tween’s waist before any of the companions could react. “Uh, everybody, this is my brother, Cooper. Cooper, this is everybody.”

 

“I’ll bet I know who they are,” the boy bubbled. “You’re Patrick and you’re Alan. You are Thom…’cause you’re dressed like Alan. You are Kenneth. My brother’s told me a lot about you. You’re Darryn…you got hurt real bad. You’re Greyeyes. Hmmm. I don’t know you. Who are you?”

 

“I’m Ivan, and I’m pleased to meet you, Cooper.”

 

“How did you know our names, and that Darryn had been hurt,” Greyeyes asked Cooper as the boys splashed in the hot soak.

 

“James wrote a letter from…wherever you were…Forrest Green…to tell us.”

 

“But how did you know which one was which?”

 

“Oh, I could see that. James says it’s because I’m a seventh son.

 

*****

 

James’s father handed Patrick a stack of letters. “These have been coming for you for…some months now. I was glad to receive them, for I knew it meant that James would be coming home.”

 

Patrick distributed the letters. The companions sat in a courtyard and read.

 

“Nothing new from Cadfael,” Patrick summarized for the others. “Durber reached Arcadia safely, but will be sent to Deccan.”

 

“That’s where…” Alan began.

 

“Yes, but Cadfael says they’ll not meet,” Patrick said. “What does Alten say?” he asked James.

 

“The twins arrived and have begun training; Senshen is still causing problems; Arne is well. That’s about all.”

 

After breakfast the next morning, the boys tended their horses. “James, I’m concerned about Honey,” Kenneth said as he stroked the horse’s nose. “The off front shoe has come loose several times. Alan’s pounded it back, and used boy magic to help hold it, but that’s no longer working. The hoof needs to be trimmed, and the shoe needs to be re-forged, but it’s mithral, and there’s no one outside Elvenhold who can work mithral.”

 

“Perhaps there is someone,” James said. “I was going to visit there, anyway to see some of my friends …let’s all go. I think you’d like to meet these people.”

 

With James at the lead, the companions—accompanied everywhere by Cooper—rode to the shop of Master Smith Edgar.

 

The appearance of James and his companions at the forge stopped all work. Davy had just quenched a large fork-looking thing that he’d been working on under Ed’s supervision. A child whom James did not recognize was walking the bellows.

 

Ed held his hand out to James. “James, it’s been years. How are you?”

 

James shook the tween’s hand and then pulled him into a hug. “Fine, Ed. And happy to be back.”

 

Cooper greeted Davey with a hug and a kiss.

 

“Where is Allen?” James asked.

 

“Working the other forge, with Father and Severus. This is Prius. They’re twins, born just after you left Bowling Green, James. We have enough work that father has opened a second forge. And, we’ve another sibling—a sister—on the way…Mother’s pregnant again.”

 

The companions sat around the shop and James described Kenneth’s problem. “So, did you two ever figure out mithral? And, do you hear from Gary and the boys he left with?”

 

“Yes to both questions,” Ed said. “After helping make George’s sword from skystone and mithral, we can certainly forge a mithral horseshoe…in fact, we’ve done it a couple of times. Surprised some elves, too. And yes, we get letters from Gary. He and David and George…and some others are having a grand time…”

 

“David…” said Greyeyes.

 

“…and George and skystone,” Darryn added.

 

“…and mithral?” Greyeyes concluded.

 

“That’s too much to be a coincidence,” Darryn said.

 

“What do you mean?” Ed asked.

 

“About 10, maybe 12 years ago, two boys…one tween actually, and one boy…human, but cute…could have been elves…visited Bramble and traded…skystone iron for mithral…Greyeyes father is a smith, too,” Darryn and Greyeyes said.

 

“Has to be the same people…it was just about that time when David and George came here with skystone iron and mithral, and taught us how to forge iron and mithral. We made…Father made and we helped…a sword for George. David healed our brother, Gary, and stayed for months teaching Gary and George swordsmanship. Then they went Adventuring.”

 

James looked around the shelves of the shop. “These are beautiful pieces…but I’m surprised that you still have any of Gary’s work in the shop,” he said.

 

“Not Gary’s. Mine,” Prius said. “Father said I inherited the same skills as Gary. Someday he’s going to come home, he’s going to come home and I’ll get to know him,” the child concluded.

 

*****

 

Patrick wrote to Cadfael a letter which would be sealed magically.

 

…another companion. He’s a boy who was being reared by a mage. James and Kenneth met him earlier this year in a hut on a lake just north of Fortmain. This time, when we all met him, the hut was on a lake near Bowling Green.

 

The mage entertained us for several days…much longer than we had expected to stay, but time passed more quickly with him than it did elsewhere. James initiated the boy into the Mysteries…when the mage decided it was time.

 

More disturbing, we were present when the mage decided to die. The boy, Ivan, had apparently been prepared; the event was not traumatic for him.

 

Ivan has proven to be a fine companion. He knows that we are searching for Evil and will attack it when and where we find it. He has not killed, but he is most proficient with a sword and is an excellent horseman.

 

Our goal is still the old castle where a false baron has apparently established a haven for all sorts of brigands. We will, however, stay in Bowling Green long enough to learn what we can from James’ father, to rest the horses, and to await any mail.

 

*****

 

The road climbed steeply as it wested from Bowling Green. As the party entered the mountains, they were forced to ride through a narrow pass. Greyeyes tapped his ring on his belt buckle, sending the message someone watching in their private code, echoing from rock to rock. The companions discretely checked their weapons, and increased the distance between one another somewhat, so that an ambush would have less chance of catching them all unaware.

 

As the afternoon sun slid behind the mountains, the pass opened into a mountain meadow, thick with aspen trees. In the distance, they saw a thin line of smoke rising into the purple-blue sky. Suddenly the entire party was struck by an unknown force. As they sank into unconsciousness, James and Patrick recognized a sleep spell, but were by then powerless to protect themselves against it.

 

Patrick woke, but kept his eyes closed as he tried to assess the situation. He sensed that he was sitting with his back resting against something warm and his butt and legs on something cold. He did not seem to be bound. He smelled wood smoke, and roasting meat: venison, by the scent. There was a susurrus of conversation; he could not make out individual words. Almost hidden under the talking was the sound of a mountain dulcimer. Patrick cautiously cracked his eyelids to see a female dwarf staring at him. The dwarfess was short; she stood no taller than Thom. Unlike most dwarves, she was slender, rather than stocky. Her hair was black and long, and her dress of heavy cloth was ornate with pins and broaches made of precious and semi-precious stones set in gold and silver metals. Some of the stones were set in designs Patrick recognized. There were two boys with her.

 

“This one’s awake,” she called out in the common tongue as she stepped back cautiously. “Easy now,” she said, addressing Patrick, “We know you to be of the Light. We mean you no harm.”

 

Patrick’s mage-sight revealed a slight glow from the dwarfess; she was clearly a mage. The cerulean blue suggested that she served the Light. Patrick gestured briefly. The spell told him that the dwarfess was speaking the truth, and confirmed that she was not of Darkness. He looked around to see his companions arrayed near him, sitting on the ground propped against rocks that had been warmed by the sun during the day. It was quite dark, now, but the clearing in the aspen forest was lit by bonfires over which spits of meat were cooking. Groups of dwarves sat around the fires, drinking, eating, and talking quietly. A horse nickered, and Patrick recognized the voice of Windchaser.

 

The dwarfess gestured, and spoke words in the Dwarvish language. Patrick recognized the tempo of her speech—it was the counter to the sleep spell—but he could not quite grasp the words. The last of the lethargy of the spell left him; he heard his companions stirring. He turned to Alan, next to him. “It’s all right,” he said as Alan started to draw his sword. “We’re okay.” Alan relaxed. As Alan stood, the dwarfess helped Patrick to his feet. The two boys went to the others of their party, reassuring them, and helping them brush grass and twigs from their clothing.

 

While they did so, a dwarf approached, carrying a string of drinking horns and a wineskin. Alan looked to Patrick for guidance. Patrick has already tested the dwarvish mage; to cast a spell to test the wine…she would see that. Patrick decided that she was to be trusted, and believed that she would not wake them just to poison them. He nodded, and Alan accepted a horn of wine. He quickly drank—his way of testing the wine—while the others’ horns were filled. Before he drank, Patrick said to the dwarfess, “We thank you for your hospitality; but was it not your spell that brought us here?”

 

“Aye, elvish one, it was. You travel in our land; you travel toward the hold of the one who calls himself MacLachlan and who is gathering evil ones to him; we acted wisely and within our rights. And, you have come to no harm.”

 

“You speak truly; we did not know that anyone claimed the surface land.” Patrick did not add that not only did the band not seek to join MacLachlan, but planned to attack him. That information would not be shared until Patrick knew a great deal more about this band of dwarves who feasted in a mountain meadow, and not in a cavern deep below the mountain.

 

As Patrick and the dwarfess mage spoke, Patrick’s companions were greeted by dwarves and taken to a nearby hearth to be offered food and more wine. James and Patrick exchanged a glance before the former was led off by a dwarf host. The message that passed was these are friends, but be on guard.

 

All the dwarves were of the same phenotype as the mage: shorter than men, but with the same proportions of limbs to trunks, black of hair, strong of features. But they were all slender and straight, unlike other dwarves who were usually stocky. Except for the mage, they were all tweens or boys.

 

Alan and Thom were soon engaged in sporting matches with a pair of dwarves; arm wrestling devolved to what elsewhere and elsewhen would be called Greco-Roman wrestling. Darryn and Greyeyes were lionized by dwarven boys, who apparently had never seen elves, while Ivan had stumbled on a chess game and had joined the kibitzers until he was challenged to a match. James tried to keep an eye on everyone at once until he was approached by a dwarven tween and invited to supper. James looked at Patrick. The elf seemed content that they were safe. James nodded his thanks to the dwarf and followed him to one of the fires.

 

Patrick accompanied the mage to her hearth to one side of the clearing. She offered bread and cheese, rather than the meat that the others are eating. Patrick accepted gratefully. It was hard for him to be a vegetarian on an adventure! As they ate, he asked the question uppermost in his mind. “I’m surprised to see dwarves on the surface of the land; and I’ve never seen any as slender as this band.”

 

The mage replied, “We’re the descendants of a clan of dwarves and a sept of humans who lived in these mountains in the last Age. They were forced together during the Change of Age. An upheaval of the land had blocked all routes out of the ring of mountains you will see in the morning and killed many of both races. The survivors had no mages and no master craftsmen among their numbers. The only magics available to them were boy-magic and girl-magic, and some heuristic healing magic; and those were not enough. The dwarves could no longer work the mines without magic light and air; the humans could not work their fields and forges without magic. The dwarves, forced to the surface, would have starved had the men not fed them; the men would have then starved had the dwarves not been able to create and repair metal farm implements using brute strength rather than magic. After a while, the two groups determined how to live without all the benefits of the Great Magic. The two clans were too small to survive alone. Inbreeding would have killed them in a few generations. Their elders recognized this, and intermarriage was encouraged. We are the result. We now share our time under the mountains and in the mountain meadows and forests. We work the mines and we work the land. We have regained knowledge of magic, and the ancient arts. We call ourselves the Cordillera, after a once and future name of the mountains in which we live.

 

“These boys are a hunting party under my protection. We were celebrating a successful hunt when I felt your presence in the aspen forest. Tomorrow, we will return underground.” She paused. “Now you know more than any elf or human has ever learned about us before. It is a measure of my trust. Will you return that trust?”

 

Patrick was astounded by the story, and deeply honored by the Cordilleran mage’s trust. He believed the Cordillera to be of the Light, and to be friends—even possible allies. To the mage, Patrick described the companions, and told of their quest for a hidden, underground entrance into the castle of the one calling himself, ‘MacLachlan.’

 

“You must accompany us underground tomorrow,” she said. “I believe we have something that may help you.”

 

The next morning dawned bright, and cold, for although they were traveling north, and the summer months were approaching, they had ventured high into the mountains. The adventurers and their chosen Cordilleran partners untangled themselves from bedrolls. While the boys shared the chores of preparing breakfast and clearing the camp, two of the Cordillera joined Alan and Thom in tending the horses.

 

“We don’t see saddle horses often,” said Taam, the tween with whom Alan had spent the night, “and certainly none as beautiful as these.”

 

“How do you farm without horses?” Alan asked.

 

“We use oxen to plow and pull carts,” Taam replied. There are a few draft horses, and most of us have ridden farm horses—without saddles or stirrups—, but we’d not dare ride something as spirited as this.”

 

“Your mage said we had a long way to reach the entrance to your underground home. Would you like to ride Dasher part way? We can share time on the horses, as long as we let them walk some of the time—and they can carry the meat you’ve harvested.”

 

Taam and the other dwarven boy were reluctant. “You’ve not seen the sway-backed animals we’re accustomed to,” Daarin said. “We’d be a pretty sorry sight on these fine animals.”

 

“Okay,” Alan said. “What if we ride double at first, and show you how these horses are trained to follow rein and knee signals?”

 

The Cordilleran boys were eager to accept this offer, and after breakfast of bread and cheese, the combined party left the camp, heading south and—once they had left the mountain meadow—up a gentle slope. Daarin rode in front of Alan, whose chin was about the height of Daarin’s head. Similarly, Taam rode in front of James, and a boy, Kaam, with Patrick. Other boys rode with the other companions.

 

By sext, each of the Cordilleran boys had had an opportunity to ride one of the companions’ horses, and several were eager to try it on their own. While lunch was being laid, Alan rode Dasher to the end of the meadow. Daarin mounted Patrick’s Windchaser; Taam mounted Thom’s giant quarter horse, Nimrod. At a signal from James, the boys loosed the reins. The horses raced toward Alan; reaching him, they turned—with Nimrod as usual catching up with Windchaser by making a tighter turn. As the boys raced back, Windchaser with Daarin took the lead again. The boys pulled up in front of James.

 

The smiles on the faces of the Cordilleran boys couldn’t have been brighter. Their faces were flushed with excitement. “She could outrun the Darkness, itself!” Daarin gasped.

 

“He could outrun the Light!” Taam boasted, patting the shoulder of Thom’s horse, Nimrod.

 

James frowned at this cavalier reference to the Great Powers, but the boys’ excitement was infectious, and soon they were all smiling and laughing as boy after boy raced the equally excited horses back and forth over the meadow.

 

It was still light when the party approached a farmstead, built hard against a rocky hill. A thin trail of smoke drifted from one of the chimneys of a large house. Barns and outbuildings, paddocks and sties, and a bathhouse completed the assembly. In front of the buildings a path meandered among vegetable, herb, and flower gardens, some showing remnants of winter crops; most freshly turned in preparation for planting. As the party approached the farmstead, several men and boys gathered to meet them. The Cordilleran mage strode ahead; the men and boys bowed to her. She quickly vouched for Patrick and the others, and gestured them forward. Leading their horses, they were welcomed by the most senior of the adults.

 

“I am Patrick,” said the elvish healer-mage. Gesturing, he added “This is James; Alan, Thom, and Kenneth, Darryn, Greyeyes, and Ivan. We greet you in friendship and in the Name of the Light.”

 

The man raised an arm in a salute to the Light, and replied, “Be welcome. I am Rooln. You will meet the others soon. The mage Jiian has told us that you will accompany her into the caverns. We will guard and tend your horses, as she has requested, until your return. But first, let us offer hospitality this evening, that you may enter the caverns refreshed.”

 

“Where is the entrance?” Alan asked, looking around for a cave opening.

 

“Oh, it’s under the floor of the great room,” replied Rooln. “So you might as well come in!”

 

Patrick forewent the games and fellowship among his companions and the Cordilleran boys in order to talk more with Jiian and Rooln. Having been assured of Patrick’s bona fides, Rooln was quite open as he talked about his people.

 

“We’re just one of a double-score of farms. All are large, and located in hidden valleys. All are about a day’s ride, through secret passes, to a central village where we meet for trade the days after each new moon.

 

“About half our people live above ground, and half in the caverns. We move back and forth, readily. Most of us, anyway. There are some who prefer the surface, and some who prefer the caverns, but most of us prefer the variety. Of course, most mining is done in the winter and summer. Just about everyone helps with planting and harvest.”

 

“Do you trade outside your own community?” Patrick asked.

 

“Sometimes,” Rooln replied. “Two of our villages are regularly visited by Rom caravans. If they have any suspicions about us, they keep it to themselves.”

 

The next morning, after breakfast, Rooln lifted the ring set in a staple in the large stone slab and pulled the slab open on its hinges. Patrick and Kenneth exchanged knowing looks as mage-sight revealed a flicker of magic, likely a recognition spell. No wonder the Cordillera did not conceal the door; no one but a powerful mage could force the door open, and the exercise of such magic would certainly send an alarm signal to the others in the cavern below.

 

Jiian took the lead; Mage-Light cast on the iron ring near the tip of her walking stick provided a strong, ruddy glow to light the way. James and Patrick cast the same spell on the similar rings on their quarterstaffs. Patrick gestured to Alan, who shook his head no. Although Alan’s quarterstaff was equipped to receive mage-light, Alan would rather fight in darkness than give an enemy a target at which to aim.

 

The party descended the stairs below the stone trap door. Patrick and James took positions midway in the line, and toward the rear, respectively. Alan was close behind Jiian, with Thom and Ivan immediately behind him; Kenneth was immediately behind James. Darryn and Greyeyes followed. Daarin was at the rear of the procession, carrying his own quarterstaff, glowing with mage-light. As he passed through the trapdoor, it closes with a thick-sounding thump.

 

Stairs of hewn stone led downward. The air was cool, damp, and still, but not unpleasant. The mage-lights revealed little but the steps, themselves, and walls on either side.

 

“Stay close to the left wall,” Jiian’s voice commanded. A few more steps, and Alan could see why: the right wall was gone, replaced with blackness that the mage-light did not penetrate. The tween tapped his quarterstaff on the steps and listened. An echo faintly returned. It’s not only dark, but it’s likely quite deep, he concluded. This would be an easy route to defend, and a difficult one to attack.

 

*****

 

The dour figure who sat on the stone bench that served as his throne was clearly not impressed by the mage’s introduction. Addressing Patrick, he asked, “Why, now, are you journeying in this land if you are not part of the Harp’s band?”

 

Patrick, remembering the harp that was the symbol of the original MacLachlans, understood that the dwarven-human king believed them to be allied with the usurper who called himself the Baron MacLachlan, the very one they were pledged to attack.

 

“My Lord,” the elven tween stood proudly before the king. “He who calls himself MacLachlan, and who displays the Harp of that noble line, is a usurper.” He lowered his voice and pitched it for the king’s ears only, using a tiny bit of magic to ensure that no one else would hear. “And, I believe that you know this as well as we do.” The king frowned, but gave no other sign that he had heard.

 

Patrick continued in a voice that all could hear. “He is pledged to the Darkness; you can plainly see that we are servants of the Light. Our mission, self-proclaimed though it is, is to seek this Harp and do him what damage we can.”

 

The king rose from his seat. “You speak true; I had to hear it with my own ears.” This last was said with a smile toward Patrick. “You may rest and refresh yourselves. I will speak with you again, tomorrow.

 

*****

 

Sunlight pouring down a shaft into the refectory bounced off crystals in the naked rock and sparkled throughout the room, providing light, warmth, and entertainment.

 

The king strode into the room followed by the mage Jiian, and another, older mage. The older mage carried a long scroll which he unrolled on one of the tables.

 

“Come here, boys,” the king instructed. As the companions gathered around the table, he pointed to the map on the scroll. “This map was made longer ago than any of us can remember. We have explored only a portion of the area shown, and have found that it is largely played out; all minerals, ores, and gems were removed long ago. It does, however, show that there is a passage from here to the dungeons that lie below the castle that the Harp has occupied. We cannot guarantee the map; however, you are welcome to study and copy it, if you wish.”

 

‘My son, Taam and his companion, Kaam, will accompany you through our lands. They are quite capable of taking care of themselves.”

 

Patrick frowned, but realized he would have to accept the king’s conditions.

 

“There’s a storm coming,” Jiian said to Taam, “be especially careful of the damp.”

 

To Patrick’s raised eyebrows, the mage explained. “When a storm comes, air moves from the mines to the surface. When the storm passes, air moves from the surface into the mines. Thus, the mountains breathe. You may sense it as a slight pressure on your ears, easily relieved by swallowing. The danger, however, is that the damp—explosive gas—may be pulled from the rocks and ignited.”

 

Patrick nodded. They’d already been told that flame must be avoided in the mines. Patrick was prepared to cast light spells upon the rings mounted in his and others’ quarterstaffs. “So we’ll not need that lamp?” he asked, indicating a tall, narrow lantern Kaam held.

 

“Firedamp is only one worry; there are others. This lamp will show firedamp and the black damp,” the boy answered. “It burns blue in firedamp and orange in black damp. This grid,” Kaam continued, pointing to a fine mesh of silvery metal that surrounded the tiny flame, “this grid protects the flame, and keeps it from igniting the firedamp.”

 

Patrick nodded his understanding, although he resolved to find out more about this lamp and the air these miners called damp. Another nod at Alan signaled his readiness to begin. With Alan in the lead, and Taam close behind, the companions entered the entrance to the old caverns.

 

The first several miles, they walked on smooth paths through tunnels and caverns carved aeons ago. Then, Taam spoke. “The left path, here, leads to the mines we are now working; the right one…that one leads to the castle.” He pointed to the map Patrick had made. The elf nodded, and gestured for Alan to take the lead.

 

These passages were rougher. Floors were littered with rock that had spalled from walls and ceilings. “Are we safe?” Thom asked Taam. “Will more rocks fall?”

 

“Not likely,” Taam said. “These fell a thousand, thousand lifetimes ago, when ice covered the valleys and even filled the passages. The glaciers—”

 

Taam’s explanation was cut short when a dark, winged shape dropped from the ceiling and swooped past the boy’s face.

 

“Bat!” Taam called, and swung at it with his staff. The air became filled with more of the creatures.

 

“They…aren’t…bats…” Kaam called as he swung his own staff. “Too…big…”

 

The boys dropped their staffs and drew edged weapons. In the confines of the tunnel, long swords and the dwarves’ battle axes were useless. Poniards, daggers and Taam’s short sword flashed. The creatures fell, wings tattered, to be gutted where they lay on the floor.

 

“What were those creatures?” gasped Taam as he wiped blood from his sword.

 

“Ugliest bats I ever saw,” replied Alan, sheathing the two daggers he’d chosen for this battle.

 

James prodded one of the bodies with his staff. “It’s not a bat; it’s too big and heavy. Look at that keel…and the muscles it used to fly. And look at the face. It might once have been a bat face, but it almost looks human, in an ugly sort of way.”

 

Unseen by the others, Kaam wiped muck from his arm, revealing a scratch earned in the battle. Furtively, the boy tugged his sleeve down to cover the wound, hoping that it would not bleed.

 

Patrick joined James in examining the bodies of the bat-creatures. “The one that was sitting on the ledge, almost as if it were waiting for the fight to end, he looked like a gargoyle on an old building.”

 

“That’s what we shall call them, then,” suggested James.

 

“Why were they here?” Alan asked the question the others had overlooked.

 

“Guarding treasure!” Darryn exclaimed.

 

“Locus of magic,” Patrick said. James nodded.

 

“I’ll go with the treasure,” Alan said, grinning at Darryn. “Come on…at least we can look around a little.”

 

Patrick nodded. He brightened the mage light on his quarterstaff. James, sitting with his back to the wall, removed his journal from his bag, and began to describe the gargoyles.

 

*****

 

Alan, Kenneth, Darryn, and Taam returned after about 30 minutes.

 

“Locus of magic, to be sure,” Kenneth said.

 

“We found their nest…bound to be, from the amount of guano on the floor,” Taam said. “Kenneth saw…how did you say? Bright bundles of magic.”

 

“Exactly,” Kenneth said. “And if we’re where I think we are, we’re right under,” he unrolled the map. “Right under this peak, here.”

 

“Any treasure?” Greyeyes asked.

 

“No,” said Darryn, obviously disappointed.

 

“The magical locus may itself be a great treasure,” Patrick said. “We’ll tell Jiian.”

 

*****

 

Kaam’s cries woke the companions. Darryn, who had the watch, uncovered a mage-lit quarterstaff as Taam gently shook Kaam to wake him from his nightmare.

 

“He’s burning up!” Taam said.

 

Kenneth, who was closest, put his hand on Kaam’s forehead. The boy was awake, but his eyes were unfocused and he continued to whimper. “He’s feverish,” Kenneth announced, looking at James. When James nodded, Kenneth focused and examined the boy with mage sight.

 

Very quickly, Kenneth found the source of the problem, and rolled up Kaam’s sleeve. There were three black, swollen streaks on the boy’s triceps. “He must have been scratched by a gargoyle,” Kenneth said.

 

“Do you need help?” James asked, softly.

 

Kenneth shook his head. “Not at first,” he said.

 

Kenneth cleaned and bound Kaam’s wounds, inspected the boy for other scratches, and cleared the source of the infection—a bacterium—from the boy’s blood.

 

“James, would you take a look…make sure I haven’t missed anything?” Kenneth asked.

 

After his examination, James smiled. “You did well, Kenneth.”

 

*****

 

The walls and floor of the mine became more irregular, winding and twisting in odd and beautiful patterns as the party passed beyond the part of the mine that had been worked by the Cordillera’s ancestors. “We’ll be in natural tunnels and caverns from here on,” Taam said. “There may be other places where the mine was once worked, but for the most part, it’ll be native rock.”

 

“But…if you didn’t dig these tunnels, who did?” Darryn asked.

 

“Water and fire,” Taam replied. “And time. Aeons of time.”

 

Later, as the boys prepared for sleep, Taam completed his answer to Darryn’s question. “We know of two things—besides ourselves—that create tunnels and caverns. One is World, itself; the other are the rock eaters.”

 

Taam did not see Patrick’s frown at the mention of rock eaters, but continued. “Water, filtering down from rain, dissolves some minerals. When the water evaporates, it deposits the minerals in other places. Sometimes, the amount of water is enough to form great underground rivers. We may see some of these, if I understand correctly some of the marks on the map. Some of the caverns and passages we see were formed by water in this way.

 

“The second way World shapes itself is similar. When World shrugs off a Change of Age, when mountains are leveled and others are formed, some of the mountains become molten. Rock flows like water. And, as water dissolves some stones, the rock dissolves others. When it passes, it leaves empty channels and pools that we see as tunnels and caverns.”

 

What Taam did not add was one of the greatest secrets of the dwarves: just as water dissolved and deposited minerals, so did the molten lava carry dissolved minerals—gold, silver, platinum, and others, and deposit them in veins and lodes as it cooled.

 

“What about the rock eaters?” Darryn demanded.

 

“I’ll tell you, tomorrow,” Taam said, stopping Darryn’s objections with a kiss.

 

*****

 

“What’s that stink?” Thom asked. “It’s like rotten eggs.”

 

“Gas,” Taam said. “Hydrogen sulfide. It bubbles from hot pools and springs. As long as there’s not too much of it, it won’t hurt us. But, if there’s one gas, there’s likely…”

 

Taam’s words were abruptly cut off as the iron-shod tip of Thom’s quarterstaff glanced off a rock projecting from the ceiling. The impact struck a spark that ignited a pocket of gas. Through cracks in the ceiling, filled when the lighter-than-air methane had stratified, a tongue of flame raced away from the cavern, into the passage the companions were about to enter.

 

Darryn was the first to act, his instinct for heat spells telling him what to do. In a race with the flame that was flying deeper in the passageway, Darryn pulled the heat from the air and walls of the passage, dissipating it into the large cavern in which they all stood. The companions were bathed in hot air, and steam poured from the rocks around them. Patrick—the only one besides Darryn who realized what the boy had done—held his breaths. Had he been successful? They’d know before they could move or warn the others.

 

There was a loud crump! It was quickly followed by a burst of high-pressure air that erupted from the passage. It was not the fiery blast that Darryn had feared. He’d not managed to stop the flame, but he had cooled the gas close to them enough that it had not exploded. The flame had, however, reached a larger pool of gas that then ignited with enough force to blast air down the tunnel.

 

A rumbling and a slight rolling of the floor of the cavern presaged the results of the explosion. “It’s an earthquake,” Taam cried.

 

“Quickly, into this tunnel,” Alan ordered.

 

Taam resisted, “Not the tunnel! Stay in the cavern!”

 

Alan wasted no time arguing. “Into the tunnel!” he called in a no-nonsense tone. Seeing that all but the two Cordillera boys were obeying, Alan dropped his quarterstaff. He swept up Taam under one arm and Kaam under the other, and followed the rest of his companions into the tunnel he’d indicated.

 

Behind him, chunks of rock began to fall from the ceiling of the cavern. With a huge roar, the entire ceiling of the cavern collapsed, and a cloud of dust poured into the tunnel behind Alan. Coughing, he pressed forward. “Keep going,” he said to the figure in front of him. “Don’t stop, now.”

 

Behind Alan, a low rumbling moved toward them. The ceiling of the tunnel began to collapse behind them. The collapse that had started in the cavern moved toward them. “Keep moving,” Alan urged, trying to convey calmness and urgency at the same time.

 

The rumbling stopped, and the party had gone far enough into the tunnel that there was no longer any dust. Alan put Taam and Kaam down. By the light of Patrick’s mage-lit quarterstaff, he could see that the two boys were trembling.

 

“I’m sorry,” Alan said. “But I couldn’t leave you behind.”

 

Kaam clutched Taam tightly. Alan could see that the younger boy wanted desperately to cry, and was trying just as desperately not to do so.

 

“No,” Taam said. “You saved our lives. It’s okay, Kaam, we’re safe now.”

 

Taam looked at Alan. “May we talk, later? Please?”

 

Alan nodded and walked toward Patrick.

 

“The way we came is blocked,” Alan said.

 

“Total cave-in,” Taam added. “That was the last rumbling we heard. That tunnel’s probably blocked for at least a furlong. We’ll never be able to clear a way through it.”

 

“We still have a chance to reach the castle,” Patrick said, pointing to the copy he had made of the king’s map. “See, through here. It’s longer than the original route, and we’d have to be very careful not to take a wrong turn. It’s quite a labyrinth.”

 

Taam and Kaam looked at one another. Taam spoke for them both. “I wish father had not shown you that part of the map. That’s the Dead Place.”

 

“What does the name mean?” Patrick asked.

 

“It means anyone who goes there dies,” Kaam said.

 

“It’s legend,” Taam said. “Our people have not gone there in aeons. That part of the mine is probably worked out, anyway.”

 

Alan took Patrick aside, and spoke for his ears only. “Patrick, I know what Taam said, and I understand his fear. But that way is far better for us than the other. Even if we found a way around the part that the earthquake caved in, I don’t think we should go back.”

 

“You think this way is safer?” Patrick asked.

 

“I do. I know it,” Alan said. “I feel it when I touch the rock. I know it,” he added abashedly.

 

“Do you remember what the senior at Piedmont said?” Patrick asked.

 

“Yeah,” Alan mumbled. “About listening to World. I knew that the cavern was going to collapse. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I knew which tunnel to take to get out of the cavern. I was as certain of that as I would be had World actually spoken to me. But it didn’t, and I didn’t hear voices.”

 

The boy paused, and looked at his friend. “I’m not crazy, am I?”

 

“No, Alan, you’re not crazy,” Patrick assured him. “I told you once you had innate magic, but you didn’t want to hear about it. You fell asleep!”

 

Patrick’s smile took any sting away from the words. “Many people who have innate magic never know it. Many who know it never are able to direct it. I’ve watched you, and I’ve seen some of the ways your innate magic shows itself, and how you use it even though you don’t know it. You use it to detect danger and to select the best path away from danger—and not just here. You were using it when we escaped from Fortmain, and before that when we were taking those clerics from the fortress back to Fortmain. That’s how you knew we were being followed.

 

“You use it when you fight, too. It helps you know where a blow is coming from, and…well, perhaps we can talk about this more, later. I think Taam wants you.”

 

*****

 

“Alan, it shames me to say this, but I must. When you picked up Kaam and me, I was so angry…I hated you…I felt a darkness come over me, and if I could have reached my dagger, I would have stabbed you and then Taam and I and perhaps you would have died.” Kaam could not look the human tween in the eye, but kept his gaze on a spot of rock wall as he continued. “I am a prince, and the strongest and most able of my cohort. I’ve never been…oh…handled as you did. That’s no excuse, I know. I can’t ask you to excuse me, but will you forgive me and will you accept my thanks for saving our lives?”

 

Alan was quite taken aback by what Taam said. He was silent for so long that Taam was afraid that he’d offended Alan even more greatly.

 

“Taam,” Alan said. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m so accustomed to my companions taking orders from me as if they came from Patrick, and so accustomed to instant obedience, that I forgot you were our hosts and escorts, and not sworn to obey. All I thought was that you two were going to die. I’m sorry that I didn’t think of you as a prince and Kaam as your consort, but only as two boys who have become very important to us…Patrick and me and the others, I mean.”

 

“Important?” Taam questioned. “To get you to the castle?”

 

“Oh, no,” Alan said. “Far more than that. We’ve played together, and now we’ve faced danger together—twice, in fact. Although you’re not sworn, you could not be closer companions if you were.”

 

*****

 

“Taam! Look!” Kaam scratched the tip of his dagger along a wall, loosening some chips of stone. Taam looked closely at what Kaam had found, and then surprised the companions by turning and pissing on the spot from which Kaam had taken the chips. There was a slight hissing and a brief cloud of white vapor. “Limestone,” Taam said. “It reacts with the acid in piss. What? You’ve never seen a boy piss before?”

 

Kaam giggled, and pissed on the wall.

 

*****

 

“Iron,” Taam said. “A very rich vein of iron ore. Wonder how big it is?”

 

The vein was large, indeed, and they walked for several hours before it petered out. Over the next five days, as they reckoned time in the unchanging darkness, Taam and Kaam found un-worked seams of lead, tin, copper, more iron, and, rarest of all, coal. It was Darryn who spotted the gold, and Greyeyes who found the silver.