sound hopeful. But in truth he did not feel very optimistic. Somehow the plan lacked imagination, flair.
“Do not despair, my son.” Laka spoke to Ankhar quietly, having shuffled up to the hilltop while the attention of the others was directed toward the city walls.
“Do you bring a message of hope?” he asked eagerly.
“I have lain with the Prince of Lies in my sleep, and he has given me a dream,” she said. “You cannot breach those walls by yourself, but with the aid of an unusual ally, the attack has a better chance of succeeding.”
“And what ally is this?” Ankhar inquired skeptically.
Laka grinned, and chanted in a sing-song voice.
“Flaming fist-ablaze of gaze,
Lord of fire, these walls will raze!”
Hoarst and Blackgaard exchanged a look.
“What does that mean?” pressed the half-giant, unfamiliar with the murky phrases.
“We must seek him on a quest-you and me, and the wizard should come too. It will not be easy, but if we succeed, you will gain the means to win this fight.”
“But how do you know that this mysterious ally will join forces with my horde?”
Laka produced a pair of metal rings from her pouch. They were steel bracelets, small enough to encircle her wrists, too small even to be worn by a normal-sized man such as Hoarst. To Ankhar, they would have made loose rings on his largest fingers.
“These will bind him to your service. They have been blessed by the Prince of Lies, and the magic-user will make them especially potent with a spell of mastery. When we put them on this being that we seek, the being will become your slave.”
“I know such a spell of mastery,” Hoarst said, his voice low. “But these bracers are so small-how can one who wears them be an ally of such incredible power?”
“Leave that to me… and to the Prince,” Laka said. “Cast your spell, and then we go seeking.”
“I’ll need to make some preparations. But I can begin tonight, and I might be finished in eight or ten hours.”
“Very well,” agreed the half-giant. “So let us start this quest in the morning.”
Ankhar’s optimism waned considerably as his mother led the trio on an arduous climb up a rocky ravine, ascending into the wilds of the Garnet range. Finally she halted, gesturing in triumph toward a shadowy cleft in the precipitous wall rising before them.
The mouth of the cave looked too small to accommodate Ankhar’s bulk, and he growled his disappointment. “This is the way we must go?” he asked.
“This is the cave that was shown to me in my dream,” Laka confirmed.
“Who or what is this ally?” he demanded to know, not for the first time.
Laka shook her head. “You will see when you see. Now come; we must make haste.”
“But how will I fit inside?” demanded Ankhar, leaning forward to peer into the cleft. The interior was lost in shadow.
“You will fit. But the wizard should go first,” Laka replied.
Hoarst stood beside the half-giant, his expression unreadable. He had consented to join the commander and the witch doctor on this quest-of course, he really had had no choice-though he had his doubts. Now he merely shrugged and started into the dark, stone-walled passage. He drew his rapier and murmured a word of magic, causing a glare of bright light to burst from the blade. Holding this metallic glow over his head, he led the way forward.
“You go next,” Laka said. “I’ll follow.”
Mutely, Ankhar lowered his head-not quite enough because almost immediately he bumped his noggin against a sharp stalactite-and followed. He had to edge sideways to move his bulky form through the tight passageway, and with a subsequent turn to the side, the pale daylight of the cave’s mouth was utterly screened from his view. But then the cavern widened, and the ceiling arched to a more comfortable height overhead. Hoarst and the light were moving a few paces in front of him, and the half-giant hurried unconsciously, reluctant to find himself isolated in the encompassing darkness. Laka, her dark eyes gleaming like sparks, traipsed after him with her short, nimble steps. She held her death’s-head talisman aloft, and the emerald stones glinted wickedly.
The green glow added to the light from Hoarst’s blade, and gradually Ankhar’s eyes adjusted to the darkness.
The cavern floor descended through a series of winding turns, not unlike the creek bed in a narrow canyon. Indeed, there were stones and boulders jumbled together as if they had been washed here by torrents of water. The half-giant shivered as he pictured a subterranean flood, a deluge sweeping through here that could drown him in the eternal depths of the world.
But the stones on the floor seemed dry, and any flood of old seemed long gone. The trio made their way deeper and deeper below the surface of Krynn. For a long time they walked. Ankhar had a hard time estimating the hours they had been underground. Nevertheless, he felt certain that they had walked many miles and gradually became convinced that those hours had stretched through the night and into the following day.
Of course, there was no way to tell by the absent sun. The chill of the subterranean shadow land penetrated his clothes and his skin, made his sweat clammy and acrid. The place was utterly soundless except for the faint sounds of their passage: the scuff of the Thorn Knight’s leather moccasins on the rocks, the clinking crunch of Ankhar’s hobnails. Laka’s breaths came from behind, sharp pants that indicated her exertion or perhaps her taut excitement.
The half-giant grunted as he pulled his bulky frame around a large boulder. He cursed under his breath every time his head knocked into an unseen overhead obstacle.
“Hold that damned light higher!” he hissed, irritated at the panic in his voice. Hoarst seemed to be pulling farther away from him. The magic-user obligingly halted and held his blade so the path at Ankhar’s feet was clearly revealed. The cavern floor continued to descend, growing steeper with every footstep until they were almost skidding down a narrow chute.
Abruptly Hoarst halted and raised a cautioning hand. Ankhar came up slowly behind him, straining to see. He saw exactly nothing, only a void of cold air. The magic-user waved his illuminated sword around, revealing that the cavern walls to the right, the left, and above them all abruptly terminated; so did the floor.
They appeared to stand at the edge of a vault of space.
“I saw this place in the dream!” Laka declared excitedly, her breath hot at Ankhar’s side. Her flashing eyes fixed upon the magic-user. “We must leave this cliff and get down to the bottom!”
Hoarst’s eyes narrowed, but he bit his tongue.
“How?” demanded Ankhar.
“You tell us!” Laka cackled, still staring at the Thorn Knight. “ You must get us down from here. To the bottom! And then our quest will go on.”
CHAPTER FIVE
‘Hey, I thought we were going right to Coryn’s!” Moptop protested as the two travelers materialized on the highway about a mile south of the great city of Palanthas. The towers, walls, gates, and palaces of the place stood outlined by the morning sun, gleaming against a clear blue sky. “I’m the pathfinder, remember? What did you do to screw up my path?”
“We’ll be there in an hour or two,” Jaymes replied, starting forward with measured strides. “But first I’d like the people in the city to know that I’ve arrived.”
Ignoring the dozen additional questions and objections lodged by the kender, the lord marshal turned into a reputable livery stable. He purchased a fine white gelding with a saddle and tack to match the splendid animal. Thus mounted, he proceeded toward the city gate with the sulking kender perched on the saddle before him.
Palanthas sprawled along the southern shore of the Bay of Branchala, white and glittering and prosperous
