No sun has warmed stone here for thousands of years,
For centuries here the cold wind has howled.
Remember, intruder, in the Horn dwells a soul
That will give you strength in the name of men.
But the greed of the thief it will punish severely
And you will rot in the terrible darkness forever.
“Mmm, yes. I can hardly understand a thing.”
“Which bits do you think you did understand, my pupil?” For asked in surprise.
It had turned dark outside, and even the candles could not dispel the persistent darkness. It would soon be time to go about my business.
I drummed my fingers on the table thoughtfully.
“I think I began to understand the point of Sagot’s advice. This poem mentions some Selena who bears you up, and Sagot warned me I’d better not just stand on her, but keep my feet moving fast.”
“Hmmm . . . ,” For muttered, and scratched his chin.
Then he grunted and poured himself some wine from a dusty old potbellied bottle. He offered me some, but I refused—today my head had to be crystal clear.
“Yes, well, I noticed the reference to Selena, too. This all requires a bit of serious thought. And by the way, don’t forget to show it to the elfess; she should know the ancient language of the orcs. She might be able to translate this page better than I have.”
“All right.”
“There’s absolutely no doubt that it’s about the Rainbow Horn. Look here: ‘First born of an ogre on the wide snowy plains’—that’s a reference to the shamans of the ogres creating the Horn, the final artifact of their race, before they all turned into animals. ‘It dwelt for centuries with elves in the Greenwood’—I’m sure you remember the old story about the head of the House of the Black Rose trying to invade the Desolate Lands. It was on that campaign that the elves took the Horn from the ogres. What comes next is clear enough, too: ‘And was given to Grok in token of the peace concluded between races during the Long Winter.’ The dark elves gave the Horn to Grok as an assurance of the peace between elves and men that came into force after the great invasion of the orcs that became known as the Spring War.”
“That’s clear enough.”
“Then there’s a bit of standard nonsense. This may be ancient orcish, but it was obviously written by a man. Still, these lines are worth thinking about: ‘You will avoid the tricks that we have set there, but be wary of earth and water and fire.’ What could that be, Harold, if not a warning that the magicians of the Order laid all sorts of traps? ‘And then, carry on! The twin doors stand open to the peace of the halls of the Slumbering Whisper, where the brains of man and elf and orc alike dissolve in unreason. . . . And so shall yours.’ The open doors are most likely the entrance to the third level, or the double-doored level as it’s called in the maps. They show huge doors that lead into the lower halls of Hrad Spein. It’s quite possible that they could be sealed with a spell.”
“Is there any way to get round them, For? Is there another entrance?”
“I didn’t study the plan for all that long. There are four main entrances to Hrad Spein. One in the north, beside the Border Kingdom. Another in the heart of Zagraba, and two more beside spurs of the Mountains of the Dwarves. But the last two were blocked and walled off by the short folk long ago. Which means there are only two ways in. And they both lead to the doors. So I’m afraid you won’t be able to get round them.”
“Wonderful,” I replied. “And what if I can’t get them open?”
“Don’t think about that, I’m more worried about the halls of the Slumbering Whisper and the insanity that’s promised. That part wasn’t invented just for the sake of the style! And that’s only half the problem. Further on, there’s a mention of some kind of ‘Kaiyus’—that’s an orcish word, but from an elfin dialect, it couldn’t possibly be anything else. But what does ‘Kaiyu’ mean? Is it some kind of magic, or creatures, or something even worse?”
“I’ll ask Miralissa,” I said. All this riddle-me-ree verse was beginning to give me a splitting headache.
“And then the Giants who burn all to ash . . . yet another riddle. Although at least the burial chambers of the Great Ones who died in battle are very well known. There are entire halls of warriors buried on the sixth level over a period of a little more than five centuries. A huge cemetery, where everyone in every grave was a legend when he was alive. And then we have these long-deceased knights with swords, and Selena, who will show you the way to the Horn, and finally a warning that the Horn won’t allow itself to be taken all that easily.”
“Let’s think about all this later!” I implored him. “Otherwise my head will burst! Why couldn’t they have just written all this in a normal, straightforward fashion? Here’s a beast with big fangs, here’s a beast with big claws, and here they’ll roast you alive or turn you into a toad! But oh no, they had to practice their poetry-writing skills!”
“What else can you expect?” For asked with a sigh and a shrug. “The Order loves puzzles; magicians’ brains are arranged a bit differently from ours. I think I’ll do a bit more thinking about this text. And you do what you were going to do. It’s already night.”
While I was talking with For, the bird of night had indeed furtively spread its black wings over Avendoom. It was time to go to work.
