'Irda had provided. 'Only he said there was one crystal — '
'Hush,' Glenshadow snapped. 'Just listen.'
'Gargath held it for a time,' the Irda continued. 'Then it was lost when the city was besieged by gnomes, with great siege engines.'
'So that is what those junkheaps are,' the kender commented.
This time it was Chane who hushed him. The dwarf reached across the table, grasped the kender's tunic, and lifted him off his stool. 'Just shut up and listen!' he demanded.
The Irda continued undaunted. 'One legend has it that when the graystone was freed, its magic caused some of the gnomes to become dwarves and kender, thus originating the two races.'
'Rubbish,' Chess snapped. 'No kender's akin to dwarves, and we sure didn't come from gnomes.'
'Rust and corruption! Chane chimed. 'Dwarves were here first. Everybody knows that.'
'Will the two of you shut up!' Glenshadow rasped, his voice the stuff of blizzards. 'Just… shut up!'
'But I've been slandered,' Chess said.
The wizard's eyes glinted like ice. He pointed his staff at the kender and muttered, 'Thranthalus eghom dit — ' and suddenly went silent. Though
Glenshadow's lips continued to move, no sound came out.
'That was a mistake,' the Irda said, sympathetically. 'The anti-magic in this place is very strong.'
'Very strong,' something unseen echoed.
The kender stared at the wizard. 'What's the matter with him?'
Chane leaned close, seeing the stricken look in the man's eyes. 'I think he tried to cast a spell,' he suggested. 'It must have backfired. He's hushed himself.'
The kender cocked his head. 'I wonder how long he'll be like this.'
'I don't know.' Chane shrugged. 'It's his spell. Speaking of which, I wish you'd find a way to hush yours.'
'My what?'
'Your spell. The one that's following you around. It's spooky to hear something complaining all the time when there's nothing there.'
'Be wary of that spell,' the Irda said. 'Its power is so great that it must happen, eventually.'
'You've met my spell?' The kender grinned. 'Actually, I guess it isn't mine, but it has become attached to me.'
'I know of it,' the Irda nodded. 'It has been in this valley, waiting to happen, for two hundred years. Ever since dwarves fought near here in the
Dwarfgate Wars.'
'111 bet that's where all those frozen dwarves came from,' Chess noted.
'This was where Fistandantilus first interceded,' the Irda told them.
Chane shuddered. 'Fistandantilus? The archmage? He was here?'
'Here first, then at the final battle, two ranges west of here, on the
Plains of Dergoth,' the Irda told the dwarf.
'That's where Grallen's army was wiped out,' Chane noted. 'I've heard that story all my life.'
'Both armies were wiped out by the fourth and greatest of the elemental spells Fistandantilus cast,' the Irda said. 'The first three spells were cast in the preliminary battle, here in the Valley of Waykeep. Elemental spells. The first was fire, the second ice…'
'Burned forests under ice,' the kender breathed. 'I saw that. What was the third one?'
'No one knows,' the Irda shrugged. 'It became entrapped in the anti-magic of this place, and hasn't happened yet.'
'Woe and misery,' something voiceless said.
'You mean him?' Chess looked around, needlessly. 'I mean, it?'
'Your unexploded spell,' she said calmly.
'Wow,' was all that Chess could say.
Chane tapped the tabletop with his goblet, growing impatient. 'What does all this have to do with me and my dreams?'
The Irda studied him, her eyes luminous. 'I told you that there were two crystals in Gargath's device. Only one remains up there now. It is called
Spellbinder. Its presence is the reason that magic often fails in this valley.
The other crystal, Pathfinder, was found by Prince Grallen of the Hylar
— '
'Grallen? But he died in the Dwarfgate War.'
'Grallen, son of Duncan, King — the last king — of Thorbardin. The wizard knows of your dreams, Chane Feldstone. What is the thing that you have dreamed of finding?'
'An old helm,' the dwarf said. 'A battle helmet, with horns and a crown-spire.'
'And a crystal at its brow?'
'Well, yes. A sort of green gem.'
'That green gem is Pathfinder, Chane. The helm is Grallen's, and your dreams have been more than dreams. Grallen learned something about
Thorbardin on his way from here to his last battle, at Zhamen — what is now called Skullcap Peak. He learned that there is a lost entrance to
Thorbardin, and had he lived he would have found it and sealed it. But he died. At present, armies are amassing in the north… their forward units already invest key areas in many of the nearer lands.'
The Irda paused and a shadow crossed her face. 'There will be war. The ogres know, and what they know I also know. Very soon, Thorbardin will be surrounded by devastation. That is why you have dreamed, Chane Feldstone.
Your dreams are Grallen's spirit, calling to you, trying to tell you what must be done. You are to find Grallen's helm and take up Grallen's quest.
You are to seal Thorbardin's lost gate.'
The kender smiled, his bright eyes gleaming with excitement. 'Wow,' he breathed. 'I'm really glad I came along.'
Chane simply stared at the Irda, at a loss for words. Finally he asked the only question he could think to ask: 'Why me?'
Glenshadow tried to speak, rubbed his throat and tried again. 'You…' the wizard croaked. He coughed, scowled, and tried to clear his throat. In a hoarse voice just above a whisper he said, 'Because you are Grallen's kin, Chane Feldstone. You are the last of the line of Duncan, King of
Thorbardin.'
Chapter 8
'Zap,' said Chestal Thicketsway, as much to break the silence as for any other reason. Almost a minute had passed since Glenshadow's pronouncement, and nobody had said or done anything since. The three creatures around the kender seemed frozen in place — the dwarf standing stunned, trying to understand what he had just been told; the Irda remote and infinitely patient, waiting; the wizard bleak-eyed and gloomy as though he had spoken the prophecy of his own doom.
When none of them reacted to his word, Chess shrugged and prowled about the little building's interior, looking for anything that might be interesting. 'Zap,' he said again, to himself. 'I'll call him Zap. Good a name as any for a spell that hasn't happened.'
'Need to happen,' something grieved.
'Well, I'd just as soon you detach yourself from me before you do,' the kender said. 'I don't even know what kind of spell you are.'
'Old,' something mourned.
