as by sight.
She saw a gaunt, utterly dark shape, crouching over the squirming Karc. The creature reached down to touch the servant with a cold, clawlike hand and immediately Karc's struggles ceased… and more. There was no body, nothing but a pathetic bundle of clothes beneath the shadowy attacker.
And then, as more of the creatures dropped from the hole and started to glide through her house, she was startled by the knowledge that she could not remember who had been in the middle of the floor.
But her thoughts immediately turned to more direct concerns as one of the shadows, oozing like liquid through the air, soundlessly advanced toward Garimeth. There was no substance, no real shape to the bizarre attacker. It seemed to be nothing but utter, consuming darkness. She was stunned as she chanced to look into the deep wells of its lightless eyes and felt a sense of utter, hopeless despair immediately drain the strength from her limbs.
All she could do was stumble backward, falling over the trunk in a nerveless, instinctive retreat. At least that tumble broke the spell of those horrid eyes, and her senses returned. Garimeth trembled in terror and pressed a hand to her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to stifle her fearful moans. Knowing that to look back at the shadow was to die, she scrambled around the barrier, then threw up the lid of the trunk to give her another moment's protection from soundless, lightless death.
And her eyes fell upon the Helm of Tongues.
The bronze artifact lay in the trunk where it had rested since her arrival. In desperation, she snatched it up and set it firmly on her head. She barely noticed the keen, sensory tingle of its magical presence. There was no weapon nearby, nothing she could use to fight, so she fell back another step. Then she was in the corner and saw the murky form of the shadow as it seemed to reach out with tendrils of darkness to enwrap the big trunk in a chilling, lethal cloak.
With nowhere else to look, Garimeth's vision again passed across the front of the thing, but this time she felt no menace in the bottomless eyes. Instead, she sensed that the shadow paused in its approach, hesitant… even confused.
The helm's power focused her thoughts and with those keen senses she reached out, tried to peer inside the mind of the shadow. She recoiled instantly, horrified by the mangled morass of its chaotic being. But at the same time she saw that the formless beast had moved back. Now it writhed in torment, and with sudden perception she saw that it feared her.
'Go away!' she declared, her tone surprising even herself with its firm quality. 'Leave me!'
To her utter astonishment, the shadowy attacker slithered backward, then turned and wisped silently out the door.
Chapter Fourteen
Gullywasher
'Golly. That some hot water.' Regal admired the blazing vista of the Urkhan Sea, which continued to toss and churn and spume. Periodically another cometlike gout of soaring flame shot forth from the black water. The Aghar shook his head in awe, though he sounded more impressed than frightened.
Tarn couldn't speak, could only stare, struck dumb by a much deeper sense of wrongness. He felt as though he was watching what must certainly be the end of Thorbardin. The feeling of impending doom had gripped him at the very first onslaught when tremors had shaken the ground and magical fire had burst into view from countless sources. Rockslides had rumbled down the slopes for several minutes. Although that initial violence had subsided somewhat, the lingering effects were everywhere, a frightening and bizarre assault against nature and reality.
Tarn had a vague notion about taking cover, but in his heart he knew there could be no shelter from this apocalyptic storm.
Great meteors of fire, finally recognizable as dragons of flame, roared through the sky over the lake. From over the miles of water the sounds of terror and pain and death shrieked of distant woe. Closer, the waters of the underground sea pitched and rose, surging onto the shore to spatter between the long fingers of Daerforge's solid stone docks. Dark dwarves teemed there in great numbers, some aboard boats, others scrambling to get to higher ground. Many of the watercraft were hurled ashore like matchsticks. The clutching tendrils of churning waves sucked hundreds of Daergar off the docks and into the bay, and then the tide rose to hammer once more against the unyielding terrain of the wharf.
Tarn watched in horror as other waves surged into the lower reaches of Agharhome, roaring through the tight streets and bowling helpless gully dwarves along, many of whom were carried back to certain death in the deep and churning maelstrom of the Urkhan Sea. More water spilled into the hollows, no doubt inundating countless Aghar who had sought the illusory shelter of the underground burrows.
'Wow!' Duck Bigdwarf gaped as a sinkhole formed in the ground near them, rocks and ravines turning to sand and spilling into a widening pit.
'Quick! Get back!' Tarn urged as the street fell away before them. Scrambling desperately, he and the small group of Aghar pulled themselves to higher ground.
One of the fiery projectiles soared closer, veering to pass directly overhead. Tarn saw widespread wings, outlined in living flame and unmistakably draconic in nature. He watched in disbelief as the mighty creature swept close to the cliff wall above the dwarven city. Surely the wyrm would have to turn or dive before impact! Instead the terrifying dragon flew with unwavering speed, striking the smooth, dark rock and sweeping onward as if the barrier was no more than a film of gauze. The creature vanished into the solid stone, and in the monster's wake Tarn saw a gaping hole leading into the cliff face, a tunnel that glowed like a furnace.
That illumination slowly faded as the blazing dragon tunneled deeper into the rock. Finally the unnatural cave was quite dark. And then the beast abruptly reappeared, bursting out of the cliff face in a different place and demolishing a couple of Daergar apartments as it emerged. The dragon glided overhead for a moment before soaring over the water again and winging powerfully toward the Life-Tree of the Hylar.
'How they do that?' Poof Firemaker's tone was admiring. Duck Bigdwarf merely stared, awestruck.
'Just flies everywhere,' Regal observed. 'Not only in air. Maybe it's swimmin' in the rock?'
Of the gathered watchers, only Tarn reacted with deep unease. The Hylar part of his mind reached beyond the spectacle of raw destruction to confront the deep and fundamental questions. How could this happen? And what did it mean for the future?
He had guesses for both questions, but his hypotheses were even more disturbing than the original queries. Tarn tried to deny the growing evidence, to consider any number of logical causes for this bizarre phenomenon. But as he watched the shifting images of light and darkness on the lake, he knew that only one explanation was possible.
'Chaos.' He muttered the word softly, to himself. 'Father was right. Chaos has come to Thorbardin.'
'Poor guys,' said Regal, watching as a great shelf of Daerforge's second level gave way, tumbling in a crushing landslide, burying a corner of the waterfront below. Rocks tumbled through the streets and a cloud of dust rose to obscure the panic-stricken dwarves-though it did not mask the shrill screams of the injured and dying.
The collapse swept away the front wall of several crowded dwellings, and Tarn was startled to see directly inside these structures. He spotted some Daergar clinging to the suddenly created precipice, watched in horror as, one after another, they slipped free to plunge onto the broken rubble below. Snatching a quick look up the slope, he felt a surprising rush of relief as he saw that his mother's house remained intact-at least, on the outside.
'Awful bad stuff,' Poof Firemaker declared, shaking his head sadly as more dark dwarves tumbled into the maelstrom of chaos. Even now, Tarn was amazed that the gully dwarves were expressing sympathy for the dark dwarves who tormented them so relentlessly.
For a brief time fire glowed amid the wreckage, apparently feeding on the bare stone. But soon the blazes faded and died or were masked by the billowing and still-growing dust cloud. Fewer Daergar were visible now. Those who survived had taken cover deep in the bowels of their dwellings. The thunder that had rumbled through this end of Thorbardin also seemed to be fading, although when Tarn looked across the water he saw the Life-Tree racked by blazing convulsions. He clenched his teeth, furious at himself for his absence from home and utterly
