one of us. No need to say anything more about it. You're safe now, and that's what matters.»
He released the locks on a concealed door and pulled it open to admit them to the safehold. Inside, it was controlled chaos of the same sort that Pen had experienced in the village on the approach of the Druid warships. Trolls bustled in all directions, each with a seemingly different task to accomplish. The chamber was huge, a monstrous cavern fully fifty feet high and more than a hundred across. Dozens of tunnels led away to places the boy could not see for the twists and turns in the corridors. But the openings to the left of where they stood formed a series of fortified redoubts in the cliff wall above Taupo Rough. Sunlight slanted through these overlooks in bright streamers, chasing back the shadows. Smaller cracks and crevices in the stone of the cliff wall admitted additional light. The combination of sunlit openings gave the chamber a peculiarly dappled look, but one that allowed the inhabitants to see clearly.
Kermadec refastened the locks on the concealed door, then added a pair of huge bars that slipped into iron cradles to further seal the entry. «That should keep out any unwanted visitors,' he declared, brushing off his hands. He glanced around. «Come with me.»
He led them to the left, to one of the redoubts, motioning the workers aside and moving to the edge of a thick protective wall of stone blocks that all but closed off the entry. He beckoned the boy and the girl forward and, when they were standing beside him at the fortifications, pointed outside. «I know you can't see what's out there, Rover girl, but young Penderrin can describe it to you in detail later. It's what's been sent to bring him back.»
The Druid airships had repositioned just outside the walls of the village, hovering not far off the ground, but well back from the possibility of catapult attacks that might be launched from the cliffs. Dozens of Gnome Hunters were scurrying down rope ladders and up to the village walls, some carrying battering rams, some grappling hooks and ropes. They were already scaling the walls and forcing the gates. Behind them lumbered several dozen creatures that looked as if they had been fashioned from wet mud hardened by the sun, creatures that resembled Trolls but lacked the proper proportions and features, as if someone had concocted a batch of poor imitations.
«Mutens,' Pen whispered.
«Our worst enemies. No brains, no feelings, no purpose. They are one step above rocks on the evolutionary ladder. Magic controls them easily. In the old days, it was the Warlock Lord who controlled them. Now it is our Druid adversaries. The Ard Rhys would weep.»
He gestured toward the flats. «Those explosions earlier? We used oil culled from the darker regions of the Malg, capped in barrels and buried in the ground. Highly flammable. The Druids weren't expecting that. It gave us a chance to get safely away, once we knew that a fight was our only recourse. But that's all the advantage we get from down there. We fight now from up here, in our redoubt, for today at least.»
He touched their shoulders and led them back into the cavern. «By tomorrow, we'll be gone from here. I need to make ready for our departure, and you need to rest.» He searched the cavern for a moment, then shouted. «Atalan!»
A burly troll with the blackest eyes Pen had ever seen lumbered up to them. His dark gaze shifted from Kermadec to the boy and girl, then back again. «I have work to do.»
«Now you have new work to do. Take young Penderrin and his friend and find their companions. Take them to one of the upper chambers. See that they all have something to eat and drink and a place to sleep. They will leave at first light. I'll select their escort.»
The other Troll stepped closer. «What about me, Kermadec? Am I to go?»
His voice was rough and surly; he made it sound more like a demand than a request. Kermadec gave him a long, measured look. «I will give it some thought.»
Then he turned back to Pen and Cinnaminson. «Atalan will see to it that you are made comfortable. The three of you should get along fine. You are all the same age, if not the same temperament.»
He walked away without looking back, leaving the three staring after him. Atalan shook his head. «He treats me like a child. Who does he think he is?»
Neither Pen nor Cinnaminson was about to attempt an answer to that one, so they kept quiet. Pen was thinking they might have been better off if Kermadec had left them on their own. Atalan was still staring after the Maturen. Then he seemed to remember his charges. He gave them a cursory look and shrugged. «Come with me.»
He led them through the main chamber to a set of steps cut into the rock and from there upstairs to a new level. He didn't speak for a time, trudging ahead with the movements of one resigned to a fate he didn't deserve. When they reached the top of the stairs, he glanced back at them.
«Do you have a brother?» he asked Pen. The boy shook his head. «Well, if you did, I would hope he would treat you better than Kermadec treats me. He was born earlier, but not necessarily smarter. He is Maturen now, but I will be Maturen one day, too.»
He broke off and turned away, leading them into a series of narrow tunnels that twisted and turned through the rock. Several times, they encountered Trolls coming from the other direction, but not once did Atalan give way, bulling past the oncoming Trolls with an insistence that bordered on rudeness. He seemed of such an entirely different temperament than Kermadec that Pen could not come to terms with the idea that they were really brothers.
«So you are the reason for all this madness,' Atalan offered at one point. «What is it about you that attracts this kind of attention from the Druids?»
Pen shook his head. «The Ard Rhys is my aunt.»
«Your aunt?» Atalan seemed impressed. «Missing for several weeks now, isn't she? Do they think you know where she is?»
«I don't know what they think. Except that they don't want me hunting for her.»
Atalan nodded. 'That would explain why they want you so bad. It would explain why my brother is so intent on helping you, too. He thinks the Ard Rhys is the Word's own child. He thinks she can do no wrong. He forgets what she was before, a creature of darkness and murder. You know of this, don't you?»
Pen nodded. He was growing angry. «She was a creature of the Morgawr and not responsible for what she did,' he answered in clipped tones.
Atalan glanced back once more. «If you say so.»
They went on through the tunnels until they had reached a room far back in the cliff rock, where the light was dim and hazy and the noise of the activity taking place below was muted almost to silence.
The Rock Troll gestured. «Wait here.»
He disappeared down another passageway, and when he was safely out of hearing, Pen said to Cinnaminson, «I don't think he likes us much.»
She turned her milky gaze on him and smiled. «You don't like him, either. But this is mostly about his brother. You shouldn't take it personally.»
He nodded, thinking it was easy to say, but hard to do. Especially when it was your family that was being attacked. But she was right, of course, so he put the matter aside. They sat together in the chamber, listening to the faraway sounds of the Trolls and waiting for something to happen.
When Atalan finally returned, he was carrying food and drink, which he deposited in front of them with barely a word before disappearing again. With nothing better to do, they began to eat. But it wasn't more than a few minutes later that Tagwen and Khyber appeared at the chamber entrance.
«Shades, Penderrin, can't you stay out of trouble for five minutes without someone keeping watch over you?» snapped the latter. «What happened to you out there? Are you all right, Cinnaminson?»
She rushed over to the Rover girl and embraced her warmly, giving Pen a dark look. Tagwen, standing at the entry with his arms folded over his burly chest, knit his brow in reproof and glared at him. Pen could tell already that nothing he said was going to make any difference.
Aboard the Druid flagshipAthabasca, Traunt Rowan stood at the forward rail with Pyson Wence and watched the Gnome Hunters flood the abandoned Troll village. Already, the smell of smoke rising from fires and the sound of furniture being smashed had begun to reach them. Their orders, once it was determined that Kermadec intended to fight, were to destroy as much of Taupo Rough as possible and then lay siege to the cliffside redoubt. The Trolls might think themselves safe inside their rock fortress, but the Druid warships were equipped with catapults designed to breach such defenses. More to the point, the Trolls were outnumbered and constrained by the presence of their women and children. The Trolls might hold out for a day or even two, but in the end, they would be overrun.
