Shannon crawled around to join Delk, staying well below — ^ the Ruck arrow line, and peered at the silver thread, 'These are vaguely like ancient Lian runes, made to look like odd whorls of silveron in the stone. This rune, I would guess it to say 'west,* and the other rune says 'point*-or mayhap 'pick1 is more accurate, I'm not sure. West-point or west-pick, that is the best I can guess these odd runes to mean.'
'Hola!' exclaimed Delk, 'Here is a thin slot in the stone at the end of the crafted vein, as if the silveron had run its course but the crack ran on a bit. Mayhap-'
'The Wrg are up to something,' rumbled Ursor at the notch, interrupting Delk. 'They may be preparing another rush. They are chittering like rats, and again I can hear them calling, 'gldr!' '
'Gldr!' exclaimed Perry, startled. 'That's what Barak t… Ah yes, I see: I heard it in my sleep. Ursor, gldr is a Sulk word for fire.' The three crawled away from the stone block and out of arrow flight, and stood beside Ursor. 'What can they be up to?' asked Perry, listening to the Sluk jabber.
'I have my suspicions,'1 growled Ursor. 'We've been trapped here many hours. Time enough for them to devise some terrible plot and secure the means to carry it out.'
'Look!' cried Delk, pointing to the floor at the cleft. In through the entrance a dark Eiquid flowed. They could hear a wooden barrel being broken, and a surge of fluid gushed in through the notch. 'It is lamp oil,' growled Delk, testing it with his finger and smelling it. Then his eyes widened- 'They.seek to flood the chamber with oil and set it afire!'
• Shannon fitted an arrow to his bow and quickly stepped across the entrance, loosing the bolt as he went. A scream came from the dark notch as the longbow-driven shaft found a victim. Delk awakened Anval and Lord Kian. The young Man joined Shannon, and they sped missiles into the cleft, and the Spawn answered with bolts of their own. In spite of the arrows, oil continued to gush forth from the notch to overspread the chamber floor.
Perry watched in desperation, for he knew that the maggot; folk were nearly ready to transform this prison into a burning tomb. We have to get out! thought the Warrow frantically, on the edge of panic. But then with a conscious force of will he wrenched his terrified mind toward the paths of reason. Now settle down. Don't bolt. And above all, use your scholar's brains to think! The buccan believed that there was a hidden door, and he felt that the secret and its solution was within his grasp if he could only get the time to think it through. What had Barak said that night long ago on the banks of the River? Something about Lian Grafters. 'These doors are usually opened by Elven-made things.' Barak had said, 'carven jewels, glamoured keys, ensorcelled rings,' and something else, but what? What did the runes on the stone block mean, 'west-point'? Perry glanced up at the Elf.
'Lord Kian,' urged Silverleaf, 'before they put the torch to this oil, let us rush them. At least we will take some of that evil spawn with us.' Ursor grunted his agreement, Delk thumbed the blade of his axe, and Anval and Bonn nodded. Shannon drew his long-knife, shaped much the same as Bane. 'This edge of the Lian, forged in Lost Duellin-the Land of the West-will taste Rupt blood for perhaps the last time; yet this pick, though it has not the power bound into the blade as that of the Waerling's pick, will-'
'I've got it!' shouted Perry. 'I know the way out!' He flashed Bane from its scabbard, and its edges blazed with flaming blue light streaming from the rune-carven jewel. Perry held the sword high and laughed. 'Here, as Barak would have said, is a spellbound blade. The key! Made by the Elves in the Land of the West. In your words, Shannon Silverleaf-and in those of the silveron runes on yon block-it is a west-pick. No wonder the Gargon couldn't get out: he hadn't a key. If I am right, then this blade-or any like it-will do with a simple thrust what the Gargon in all his awesome power could not do in three thousand years.'
Crouching tow, the small Warrow stepped through the inflowing oil to the stone block and plunged the blade into the slot at the end of the silver line. The Elven-knife went in to the hilt. There was a low rumble of massive stone grating upon stone, and a great slab ponderously swung away from the far wall; a black opening yawned before them where solid stone had been.
Shouts of astonishment burst forth from the Squad, yet Gatemaster Delk had the wit to call out above their cries, 'Withdraw the sword and do not plunge it in again, else the portal will close once more!'
Heeding Delk's words, Perry immediately withdrew the-dazzling blade, and the door remained open; but the Warrow's thoughts were upon another Gatemaster, now dead: the one who had shown him the way. 'Barak, you were right,' whispered the Warrow quietly. 'Thank you.
A Rucken horn blared from the notch and a stentorian voice snarled, 'Glar!' They were bringing a torch to fire the oil.
'Quickly!' shouted Kian, catching up his pack. 'We must fly!' Each of the companions took up his own bundle and headed for the open door: Kian in the lead, Delk last. The oil made the stone floor as slippery as ice, and the footing was difficult; haste was needed yet couid not be afforded. 'Hurry!' Kian urged as he reached the door and stood by the open portal. '
Just then there was a great Whoosh! as the oil was fired and flames ran into the chamber, lighting it a lurid red. The dark shadows were driven from the far recesses of the room, and through the blaze the Spaunen could see for the first time the opened, secret door. They snarled and howled in rage-their victims were escaping! — and their own Spawn-set fire would cut off pursuit!
As the companions tumbled across the doorsill, inches ahead of the flames, a burst of black arrows whined across the room, most to splinter against the stone wall; but one shaft took Delk through the neck, and he fell dead at the threshold. Lord Kian reached for the fallen Dwarf, but a hot blast of fire drove the Man backwards through the door as the last of the oil ignited.
The portal had opened into an undelved cavern leading away from the chamber. The companions were waiting just around a corner when Kian stumbled into tneir midst, singed and gasping. 'Delk is dead. Rupt arrow.' Anval and Bonn cast their hoods over their heads, and Perry bit his lower Up and tears sprang into his sapphire- jewelled eyes.
The raging flames behind them pitched writhing shadows on the walls of the cavern, and the grotto was illuminated a dull red. Towering stark stones stared silently at the group huddled below, and the sound of weeping was lost in the roar of the blaze. Massive blocks and ramped ledges stood across the cave, barring the way for as far as the firelight shone, and the rock yielded not to the grief.
Lord Kian looked at the group standing numbly before him. 'He is wreathed in flame,' said Kian above the sound of the fire, 'and his funeral chamber contains the weapons of the foes he slew. Thus he goes in honor on his final journey. Delk will be missed; he will be remembered. But he would urge us to mourn not, and to go on-for Durek needs us, and we are late.'
For long moments no one spoke, and the only sound heard was the brawl of the fire. Then finally:
'You speak true. Lord Kian,' concurred Anval, casting back his hood with effort. 'There will come a time when we will mourn the loss of Delk Steelshank, but now we must go on to the Dusken Door-though how we will repair it without his aid, I cannot say. Our Gatemaster has fallen, and there is little hope for our mission without his gifted hand.'
'But we must try,' interjected Perry, choking back his grief, 'else all this has been in vain. We must get back to the Brega Path and on to the western portal-though whether there is yet time to do so, I know not.'
'It is sunset of the twenty-fourth of November,' announced Shannon. 'There remains but one and thirty hours until Durek is to attempt the opening of the Door.'
'Now that Delk has fallen, I will lead,' stated Bonn, casting his own hood from his head, 'though I cannot take his place. And I shall try to hew to his plan, turning always back toward the Brega Path when fortune allows me the choice.'
'Then let us go away from this bitter place now,' urged, Perry. Lord Kian nodded, and Borin set forth, climbing up the ramps.and across the looming stones to an exit on high. And they entered a rough-floored cavern that led them generally south and west.
The way was slow and difficult, for they had to clamber up and down steep slopes and over great obstacles. Giant Urspr often lifted Perry up to ledges just out of the Warrow's reach., or lowered him down drop-offs just a bit too far for the buccan to jump. Without the big Man's help, the journey would have been beyond Perry's abilities. Even the Dwarves were hard pressed to negotiate this passage. Only nimble. Shannon seemed at ease on the rugged way. There were no offshoots from the cavern, and so a smoother way was not a matter of choice. It took them three hours to traverse just four miles of this arduous cave; and their thirst had grown beyond measure, for their water was gone.
But then they were brought up short by both a welcome and at the same time a disheartening sight: the cavern dead-ended at an underground river. The water rushed out of,the stone on the right side of the cave, and
