Now, the sundered Plains of Dergoth were washed by storm, as Zap fulfilled his destiny.
Rockfall had hidden the old trade portal. What once had been an iron-framed gate, nine feet wide and twenty feet high, with cable-cart stays and transfer platforms, now was a forgotten gap behind hundreds of tons of tumbled stone. Hidden, but not closed.
With Jilian following, Chane Feldstone crawled through a cleft among the rocks and entered a tunnel, which was more a maze that only a dwarf or a curious kender might have riddled out. Behind them, faint now, was the rolling thunder of the storm. Chane eased around a hairpin turn between boulders, then crawled over a buried slab and under another, following the green light that seemed to speak to the gem set in the old helm he wore.
On and on they went, and everywhere was dark, fallen stone with only the green trace to guide them. Pathfinder pulsed and glowed as the stone maze wound on dimly. In the pouch at Chane's belt, Spellbinder throbbed a silent song.
Jilian's cheeks were moist with wiped-away tears, her throat tight with dread and regret. People she had come to love were now left behind. They would probably die so that the mission of Grallen and of Chane's dream could be completed. She had looked back just once, from the top of the bridge, and felt as though her heart might break. The two had seemed so small back there, so helpless — a bleeding man and a bright-eyed kender with his hair coiled around his throat. Just those two, facing…Jilian had not looked back again.
For the first time in her life, Jilian felt the weight of mountains above her, the press of the stone through which they made their way.
'Maybe we can go back and help them,' she whispered. 'I mean, when you've done whatever it is you are supposed to do.' Ahead of her Chane squeezed his broad shoulders through a narrow crevice and took another turn, pausing only to make sure that she followed. He said nothing, though she knew he ached for their friends just as she did.
Another tight, jagged opening between tumbled slabs, another turn, and
Jilian heard Chane's breath catch in his throat. He clawed and pulled through a crack, and when he was beyond it he turned to give her his hand.
Greenish light flooded about him and lit up the cavern he had discovered.
Chane and Jilian looked around. The light they saw was Pathfinder's glow, reflecting back from the delved walls and ceiling of a wide, hewn space. A few bits of rubble lay scattered among neat mounds of piled stone. Nearby, an old cable-cart lay on its side.
'A transfer terminal,' Chane said. He pointed to the left. A clean, unshattered tunnel led away there, into darkness. Pathfinder pulsed, and the narrow trail of green light appeared again, on the dusty floor. It led straight to a mound of crushed stone, up the side of it to the top, and stopped at a little cone of green light, with a red center.
Chane walked to the mound, head-high to him, and stood a moment, listening to something that only he could hear. Then he took Spellbinder from his pouch. The red gem pulsed warmly, its glow the color of
Lunitari's light. Reaching out, he placed the gem on the pile of stone, where the spot of red shone.
From behind the dwarves, from the buried gate they had traversed, came a sound of distant, rolling thunder. Spellbinder's light grew in power, flared brilliantly in the cavern, then settled into a steady, warm glow that seemed to fill the air with tiny music.
'Come.' Chane took Jilian's hand. 'Pathfinder has brought Spellbinder home. Now we must hurry.'
'Can we go back?' she asked.
As though in answer, the thunder grew beyond the gate and the cavern quaked ominously. Chane headed for the left tunnel at a run, pulling
Jilian along with him. The thunder mounted behind them.
Once beyond the cavern, Pathfinder's steady green glow lighted a cable-way long forgotten, a finely-delved tunnel that seemed to go on ahead of them unobstructed. 'Hurry,' Chane said. Behind them, the thunder became the roar of solid stone shearing and the chatter of rockfall. A cloud of dust obscured the opening of the cavern, and the faint red light winked out.
'It's sealed,' Chane rumbled. 'And locked against magic. That was what
Grallen intended to do.'
'Where does this go?' Jilian pointed ahead, down the cable-way.
'It goes where it always went,' Chane Feldstone said.
'It goes to Thorbardin.'
Once more Jilian looked back. 'I'd like to see outside again… sometime. Do you suppose we ever will?'
'We'll see it,' Chane replied softly. 'Maybe we'll even see… them… again sometime,'
At his brow, Pathfinder throbbed a clear green pulse of reassurance.
Chane felt as though Grallen's helm had just given him a promise.
Chapter 33
On a bright spring day a man came down from the wilderness ranges. He rode a sturdy, battle-wise horse and had the look of far places about him.
In the main square at the crossroads of Barter he reined in and dismounted. Not far away, winged pigs circled contentedly above an inn.
Some distance beyond, pavilions spread their bright expanses, a sign of the spring trading season. Among them was a large, red-and-gold pavilion that stood amidst myriad stalls and showing tables.
'Goldbuckle is here,' the man noted, talking to himself and his horse in the way of one who has been afar and long alone. He smiled a sardonic smile, unlashing a pack from behind his saddle. Inside was Abanasinian ivory, an exquisite collection of the finest carvings. 'That old thief is going to drool all over himself when he sees this,' he told the horse.
'But it's going to cost him plenty to get his hands on it.'
Leading the horse, he started for the trade pavilion of the Daewar merchant, then stopped when a highpitched, excited voice shouted, 'Hey!
Look who's here!'
Chestal Thicketsway pushed through a crowd of traders and ran toward him. 'Wingover! I thought you were dead or something!' He skidded to a stop, beaming up at the man. 'And Geekay made it, too. Wow! Did you hear about Chane Feldstone? He's rich and famous, just like I said he'd be. The
Thorbardin traders talk about him all the time. Rogar Goldbuckle has been strutting around here ever since he arrived, telling everybody how he's a personal friend of Chane Feldstone. He has the trading sanction for the
Hylar now, too. Gee, everybody thought you were dead, though. How did you survive that storm?'
'I — ' Wingover started.
'Did you ever see such a storm in all your life? Wow! What a wind! I saw a boulder as big as a house, just rolling along with the wind pushing it.
I never saw anything like that storm. Most people don't believe me when I talk about it, but that's all right. What did you do, find a hiding place?
After we got separated, I mean? That's what I did. I just crawled into a hole and stayed there until Zap got it out of his system.'
'I — ' Wingover attempted.
'I'll bet you didn't expect to find me here, either, did you? I wouldn't be, except that Bobbin couldn't find his way back without a guide. Every place he'd seen was from the air, and after Zap knocked him down everything looked different. He got lost! Did I tell you… no, I didn't yet, did I?… Bobbin's building a new invention. It's kind of like an iron fish, and I don't know much about it. You know how gnomes are. Either they don't tell you anything, or you can't get a word in edgewise. He says he wants to go and find an ocean as soon as he gets it ready. Are you going to see Rogar Goldbuckle? He's here, you know. That's his place over
— '
'Chess, I — '
