He let her find a bench in the craft while he supervised the handpicked crew of experienced Daergar boatmen. None of them displayed apprehension about the imminent voyage onto the preternaturally choppy sea, but they would not have been mortal if they had not felt at least a small measure of fear. Indeed, a quick survey of their thoughts showed they were consumed by fright-fears that did little to amuse Garimeth, since by necessity she would be relying upon their prowess and sharing their experiences during the dangerous crossing.
Darkend had chosen for the voyage one of the longest and deepest hulls among the Daergar. This boat would be propelled by no less than four dozen oarsmen. The coxswain, a one-eyed dark dwarf named Bairn Knifekeel, seemed quite confident, almost cocky.
'We'll get there, my lord thane,' he promised with grim certainty, though Garimeth frowned as the Helm of Tongues allowed her to perceive that even this bold dwarf was inwardly quailing.
As they gazed out over the water it was obvious that conditions on the sea had deteriorated. Garimeth's thoughts were vividly focused on the encounter that had taken place on her balcony. She still recalled the awe she had felt when she had beheld the daemon warrior's beauty, the desire and power he had kindled within her. She had learned his name, Zarak Thuul, and that of his mighty flaming steed, Primus. And even more, she had invited him to touch her soul, to know her mind, and to hear her innermost desires. They had connected with each other in a way that she could not have imagined, resulting in a bliss that had weakened her knees. In some way she felt as though she were a young dwarfmaiden again. Perhaps the arcane power residing in the Helm of Tongues had made this first contact happen, but she now believed that she and the daemon warrior had forged a deep life-bond, something that transcended the realm of magic.
And when she had spoken to the daemon warrior, the creature had seemed to understand her. She told him that the Hylar were the real enemy, the time-honored foe deserving of death and destruction. She had made Zarak Thuul clearly understand the special vileness of the sanctimonious clan, and agree that they ought to be subjugated.
And he had consented to lead the Daergar into that battle of glorious conquest. Now all that remained was for Darkend and Garimeth to join with the Chaos army and sweep to victory.
'Go!' cried Bairn Knifekeel, taking the tiller and guiding the longboat away from the dock. 'Stroke, on my count!'
Though the boat rocked and lurched sickeningly the rowers had little difficulty guiding it forward. The sharp prow cut the waves easily, and they plowed steadily away from Daerforge Bay and onto the greater body of the Urkhan Sea. Still, Garimeth soon felt her stomach rising, seasickness suddenly churning in her belly. The voyage quickly degenerated into a vile, hateful ordeal, and she desperately hung her head over the side.
When it began to rain, the dwarves on the benches muttered among themselves in superstitious fear, and Garimeth heard an occasional silent but fervent prayer to Reorx. Even more than wind, this unnatural precipitation seemed to be a dire omen in the underground realm. She concentrated on trying to mask her own discomfort. This soon proved impossible when she began to retch over the side. Still, in the more tolerable intervals she noted with grudging admiration that her brother somehow managed to look grim and majestic, standing boldly in the stern, eyes locked upon his goal. In his two hands he held the wickedly spiked mace that had served him so well in the Arena of Honor. True, he too was afraid, as the Helm of Tongues informed her, but he kept the poise of leadership.
The fiery scars of the Life-Tree glowed even through the rain and the mist, and the dwarves had no difficulty arrowing towards it. About halfway through the voyage, the inverted mountain emerged from the gloom and the murk, rising high above them, clearly damaged in many places by the unnatural onslaught. That was when Garimeth went back to the stern, sensing that her presence was desired by the thane. He brother had realized there was no place for treachery on this perilous crossing.
So fixed was his attention upon his objective that Dark-end even sidled over to give her room beside him. The Life-Tree looked as though it was dying, with occasional explosions marring its surface. Great chunks of rubble broke free here and there to fall into the sea or onto the crowded waterfront. Despite the increasing size of the waves, the coxswain and crew negotiated the storm-tossed sea with skill and they continued to make steady progress.
Closer still to the Hylar home they observed numerous lake boats bobbing in the rough swell around the fringe of the waterfront. Most of these craft were offshore, rocking in the turbulent waters.
'I see my fleet waits for me,' Darkend announced in triumph.
'Aye, lord,' agreed Bairn. 'Many boats, their crews no doubt prepared to answer your every command.'
But as their boat drew nearer to the bobbing fleet, both Bellowsmokes could see that there was no pattern to the deployment, that these boats had no crews. Scrap evidence of once-proud dark dwarf lives littered the decks. Empty armor and helmets rattled through the boats, oars flopped loosely in their brackets. The thane groaned in dismay and fear, recoiling from the horrible omen.
'They're all gone!' gasped one rower, as he looked into the empty vessels that bobbed and drifted on all sides of them.
Darkend whacked the dwarf's head with his gauntlet, but not before all of the terrified crew also had seen that the other boats were eerily vacant.
'To shore, you oafs!' commanded the thane, and the rowers pressed ahead with grim urgency, finally bringing the big lake boat gliding up to one of the few surviving docks.
'See, Brother! Your best plans are half-baked, subject to failure!' hissed Garimeth, as Darkend glanced around in horror. 'Without my help-and that of my daemon warrior-you will never succeed!'
Even before their boat landed they noticed that the shore teemed with dark dwarves-most thankfully alive. But the none of the troops were making any effort to press the attack. Several hurried forward to take the bow and stern lines or to help the thane climb up to the stone wharf.
'Who's in command here?' Darkend demanded. A captain rushed forward as Garimeth hastened after her brother. 'Why aren't you attacking?'
'There are no Hylar within reach, lord. The rockfall has cut off our approach. It collapsed the bottom of the enemy's lift and wiped out the defenders on Level Two.'
'What do you mean? What about the higher levels?' Darkend was full of fear, thinking that all of his plans were coming to nothing. There would be no triumph in capturing a ruined slag heap of molten stone!
'Don't know. But the Hylar are sealed off from above. The rock melted right down the transport shaft!' blubbered the terrified commander.
'Then get your men digging!'
'I have, lord. They're making progress, but it will take time!'
'What about our allies, the Theiwar?' asked Darkend quickly.
'Their thane is nearby, sire, mustering his troops just to the west of here.'
Darkend turned to his sister. 'Go find Pounce Quick-spring and bring him to me.'
'Aye, lord,' she agreed, more than willing to remove herself from her brother's presence.
Garimeth soon located the Theiwar thane. Pounce Quickspring was shouting angrily at his troops, but his clan also had been stymied by the same solid stone obstacle that was blocking the Daergar advance. He greeted the dwarfwoman suspiciously, but finally agreed to accompany her to Darkend. They joined the Daergar reinforcements on a wide, clear section of the docks. Pounce Quickspring looked expectantly at the Daergar thane.
'Now is the time to reveal our new war partner. Garimeth, summon the Chaos beast!' the Daergar thane ordered his sister. His voice nearly caught in his throat, for he dreaded the humiliation that would result if she failed. Pounce Quickspring and many of the Daergar dubiously looked to the sky.
Garimeth turned her voice and her thoughts to the sky, speaking once again in that strange language enabled by the Helm of Tongues. She called to Zarak Thuul for long minutes, sending forth a message of her own adoration and desire, unaware of the passage of time as her emotions grew and she reached out, pleading and beseeching and cajoling.
A spot of brightness appeared in the subterranean sky, curling around the shoulder of the Life-Tree. The glowing form quickly grew into a blazing ball of fire that spilled toward the Hybardin waterfront.
Primus spread his vast, flaming wings and dipped down, coming to rest before the astonished dark dwarves. The brightness of his fiery visage was exceedingly painful in the eyes of the assembled warriors.
Even dismounted, Zarak Thuul stood as tall as a large man and towered over the dwarves. His face was blank, stony, yet handsome in a perverse sort of way. His crimson eyes flamed, the light an eerie color against that
