The Dragonstone (67 page)
Authors: Dennis L. McKiernan
* * *
Down through the blackness wended the trio, Ferret in the lead, Arin in the center, Egil coming last. Both Ferret
and Egil bore lanterns to light the way, but Arin’s remained unlit, the Dylvana seeing well by the light of the two. The stone all about them was dark and brooding, and a chill cold enfolded them in an icy grasp, and the lamplight seemed hard-pressed to push back the darkness all ’round.
The steep, downward passage twisted and turned, dropping down slides, wrenching around corners, upjuts and boulders blocking the way, cracks shattering off into blackness. At times the trio edged along precipices, with yawning ravines falling into silent ebon darkness just inches from their feet.
And the deeper they went, the colder the air, until they slid down a slope and stepped ’round a corner to see glittering whiteness ahead.
* * *
On the great ledge, Alos huddled shivering in the lee of a boulder, unable to bring himself to crawl to the edge and peer over the terrifying drop to watch his companions rappel down, unable as well to know how the trio in the underground passage fared.
It was not fair, not fair at all, for him to be alone and abandoned as he was, for surely were it the other way ’round he would not have deserted his shipmates, would not have left them in the company of a terrible Drake, would not have forsaken them as he had been.
What was that? A sound. It was Raudhrskal, frightful Raudhrskal, slithering toward the precipice to peer at those below, slithering to watch their progress. Alos, trying to make no sound of his own, scooted on his bottom ’round the boulder, keeping it between himself and the dreadful rust-red monster, a monster who would snap him up and swallow him whole without a second thought.
Tears ran down the old man’s face at his unjust plight— abandoned, alone, trapped as he was, no friends, no help, no one to save him, an appalling beast ready to eat him…
…And then in the shadows of the great cavern at the back of the ledge, Alos saw his stolen saddlebags, left lying unguarded by the creature behind.
* * *
Aiko looked back overhead. Beyond a long stretch of easily climbed stone a length of rope dangled down from above, and higher still, past another stretch, dangled another line—one rope, the top one, was a hundred feet long, the other, fifty. They had not brought enough line to reach all the way down from the lip to the sea, and instead planned on free-climbing part of the way. In only those places found difficult did they leave rope behind.
Aiko turned and looked below. Burel was nearly free of the line, with Delon rappelling down another line farther below. When Aiko’s turn came she would slide down this rope, then bring it after.
Again she glanced upward at the long climb above. Going back up would certainly be harder than coming down. And bringing Arin with them would complicate things, for the Dara was untrained in climbing.
As she thought of the Dylvana, Aiko’s heart clenched, for the peril her mistress faced was incalculable, and the Ryodoan thought that somehow she should be there, her swords protecting the Dara. Yet Aiko was not at the Dylvana’s side but instead prepared for her rescue.
Climbing upward with Lady Arin would be a relief, for it would mean she had survived.
But what if she did not come when the tide was low? Then the climb back up would be long and grievous, for that would mean something had gone dreadfully wrong.
Shaking her head to clear it of these somber thoughts, Aiko looked downward again. Burel was free of the rope and making ready to lower the remaining gear down to Delon below.
Aiko took up the doubled line and backed over the lip of the ledge.
* * *
“What is it?” asked Egil, the whiteness casting glints in the lanternlight as he looked out across the enormous crack sliding down at an angle rightward into unplumbed black depths below, a slanting white forming the left-hand slope.
“Ice,” called Ferret, her breath blowing white, her voice echoing in the cave.
“Ice? Here underground?”
“From the heights above, I would think,” said Arin. “This wide fissure must reach to the very top of Dragons’ Roost.”
Egil nodded and watched his own breath blow white. “No wonder this cavern is so cold.”
Ferret held her lantern high. “The passage continues onward beyond this slope. I can just see it on the other side.”
“How do we get across?” asked Egil.
Ferret surveyed the span. “I don’t think we can cross on the stone to the right: it’s an underhang, and I don’t know enough to essay such. It’s the ice or nothing.”
Egil grunted as he extracted a tool from his small pack. “And here I thought Delon a fool for telling us to take an ice-axe.”
Ferret fumbled about her harness belt, finally extracting a rock-nail. Selecting a thin crack, she drove the slenderbladed spike within, then attached a snap-ring to the eyelet and threaded a rope through the ring.
“Anchor me,” she said in the chill air, “I’m going to have to chop handholds and footholds as I go.”
Egil took up the unbound hank in his gloved hands and arranged it in a coil where he could pay it out. Looping the line over a shoulder and across his back, Egil braced himself against a jut. “When you’re ready…”
* * *
Alos looked back at Raudhrskal. The Drake was fully occupied watching the climbers below. The oldster stealthily pulled a leathern jug from one of the retrieved saddlebags and uncorked the brandy within.
* * *
“The stone below is unsound for a stretch,” called Delon. “I’m going to move to the left.”
* * *
Chnk…chnk…chnk…
Laboriously, Ferret chopped hand- and footholds in the hard-frozen slope, the ice-axe cutting deeply, silvery shards tumbling away down the slant to be lost in the blackness below. Now and again she would stop to rest, her white breath coming
hard, but after a short pause, she would begin chopping again.
* * *
P’r-p’r’aps I j’st ought t’ walk out of here. I mean,
they
were th’ ones what wanted t’ get this thing.
Alos took another pull on the leathern bottle.
* * *
Delon hammered in another rock-nail and fixed it with a snap-ring, the bard leaving behind a trail that would make the ascent easier on their return. He looked above, where Burel and Aiko waited, then lowered himself down to another crack in the cliff face and began to drive in another nail.
* * *
“Like the two we left back there spanning the ice,” said Ferret, peering down at the lantern dangling below, its yellow light illuminating the vertical shaft dropping away at her feet, “we’re going to have to anchor another rope up here and leave it for our return.”
“Let’s hope we don’t run into many more of these, um, barriers,” said Egil. “We’ll have only three hanks after this.”
As Ferret began pounding a rock-nail into a suitable crack, she said, “How do you suppose Ordrune got down here? I mean, I’ve seen no signs that
anyone
has come this way before—no old rock-nails or rings or ropes…nothing whatsoever left behind.”
“Mayhap Ordrune has mastered flight,” suggested Arm.
Ferret paused in her pounding. “Can anything other than birds fly?”
“Dragons,” said Egil. “Bats, fell beasts, insects, and a number of other things.”
Ferret grinned ruefully and struck the rock-nail one last time. As she slipped a snap-ring through the eyelet, she said, “I suppose what I meant to ask was, do you really think Ordrune can fly?”
Arin turned up her hands. “He is a Mage, and it is told there are Mages who can move through the air.”
Ferret threaded the rope through the ring and tested the anchoring of the rock-nail. “There. It seems sound enough. Let’s go.”
* * *
N-nope. Can’t leave ’em. Unlike before. Shipmates. My shipmates.
A sob escaped Alos’s wet lips.
* * *
As Burel waited, he looked out at the Boreal Sea, out at the vast gurge. The entire turning surface seemed to bend, spiraling down into the distant rumble of the dark, gaping hole.
* * *
“I hear water churning,” said Arin. “Somewhere ahead.”
They clambered over broad shelves of rock, slippery and damp, and scrambled up ledges and leapt over cracks, and slid down rubble-strewn slopes, shards tumbling before them. Soon Egil and Ferret could also hear the swash and surge of water, the sound drifting up the passage.
* * *
Great tears rolling down his face, moaning in desolation, Alos pulled another leather bottle from his recovered saddlebags. Uncorking the flask, he lifted it to his brown-stained, gap-toothed mouth and swallowed gulps of the fiery liquid between gut-wrenching sobs of self-pity.
* * *
“Do you see it?” called Aiko down.
“No, I do not,” replied Delon from below.
“It’s got to be there somewhere,” rumbled Burel, “or so the Dragon said.”
Aiko looked above, sighting on the rope at the very top, there where the Dragon stared over the ledge. “Left!” she called to Delon. “I think it should be somewhat left of where you are.”
Delon moved leftward along the ledge, peering down into the churning brine at the foot of the cliff, the bard searching for evidence of the underwater crevice leading to the Kraken Pool within.
* * *
“There it is,” breathed Ferret, holding her lantern high, the light swallowed up in the darkness of the cavern beyond.
They stood at the entrance of a huge chamber, a short path sloping down to an enormous pool, ebon water
upwelling from black depths below. Roughly circular, the grotto itself was perhaps a hundred feet high and two hundred feet across, its far reach lost in dimness to all but the Dylvana’s eyes.
Egil put both hands on Arin’s shoulders and whispered, “What do you see?”
The Dara’s gaze swept the chamber. “’Round the edge to the right runs a wide pathway, boulder strewn. At the far side it disappears into a wide channel beyond—”
“The treasure,” interjected Ferret. “Do you see the treasure?”
Arin nodded and pointed nearly straight away. “Alongside the path just before the entrance to the channel, the silver chest rests up in a small hollow within the wall.”
“How long till low tide?” asked Egil.
“Four candlemarks,” replied Arin.
Egil pulled Arin to him, and for a while none said ought. But then he sighed and murmured, “Let us hope that Delon and Burel and Aiko are in place and ready.”
“Ah, surely they are,” said Ferret, gazing in the direction Arin had pointed. “We’ve come too far and planned too well for anything to go wrong at this stage. And the treasure itself, well, we’ve almost got it.”
But Egil gazed down at the ominous stir of ebony water. “If the scroll is right, then somewhere within is a monster who will dispute that claim.”
Arin, too, looked at the dark upwelling, then said, “In four candlemarks we shall know.”
HAPTER
75
T
ime crept past.
“But what if they
didn’t
make it all the way down the cliff, or perhaps couldn’t find the underwater exit?”
Arin turned to Egil. “Fear not,
chier
…and have faith.”
“But we don’t know, love. We don’t know that all is in readiness. Look, we can return to the ledge above and execute the plan tomorrow. Recall, should low tide come and go without you luring the Kraken outside, the strategy is for them to climb back up. We can meet them atop and know whether all is ready or no.”
“Again I say fear not,
chier.
Both Delon and Burel said that given the face of the mountain wall, the descent, though long, would be rather easy and swift. It’s the climb back up that will take time.”
Egil sighed, and fell silent, and only the rush of water in the cavern beyond broke the stillness.
Finally Ferret said, “Dara, can you tell from here whether or not the treasure has a charm on it?”
Egil growled, “It is not a
treasure,
Ferret.”
“Nevertheless,
chier,
she has a good question,” said Arin. “I will attempt to
“Oh.” Ferret’s voice fell.
“Would you rather that it did glow?” asked Egil.
“Oh, no,” replied Ferret. “I’d rather that it did not, for who knows what a charm might do? I was simply hoping the Dara could tell whether or not one was present.”
* * *
“’Tis time,
chier,
” said Arin, standing.
Egil looked at her, his heart in his gaze. He tried to speak, but found he could not. Instead, he embraced her, wrapping her small frame in his arms. He kissed her lingeringly, and then with a sigh he released her and stepped back.
Ferret dipped one end of a short section of stiff rope into lantern oil and then lit it. “Your torch to run by, my Lady,” she said and handed it to Arin. Then she gave over a lit lantern to the Dara, saying, “And a lantern to leave at the silver chest, should you get the chance.”
Egil’s heart hammered in his breast as Arin took torch and lantern and nodded her thanks. Yet before she could turn to go, Egil stepped forward once more and took her face in his hands and kissed her one last time and whispered, “I love you.”
“Chieran,”
she replied, then turned and quickly stepped away, blinking back her tears.
Down into the cavern she stepped, and taking a deep breath she began running swiftly along the path to the right and toward the distant goal, while behind, Egil held his breath and gritted his teeth, and Ferret clenched her hands in white-knuckled grips.
Dark waters upwelled in the pool.
Fleetly and lightly Arin ran, rounding the curve of the cavern, dodging past boulders and springing over rocks in her path. Now she came to the final arc, and by the light of the lantern she bore, Egil and Ferret could see a niche in the wall, silver glinting within.
Arin paused, placing the lantern into the hollow, and she called out above the roil of the water, “The chest, ’tis charmed!”