8

 

Into the Kanton Mountains

 

The Tower of Kanton loomed like an ancient monolith on the precipice above. The path meandered in a switch-back along the cliff and was little more than a narrow staircase carved into the face of the shear granite wall. They climbed up the stairs, which proved treacherous and gave Aaron and Lorik no end of trouble. The rocks were covered in lichen, and though the stairs were cut right into the face of the cliff they were fractured and rounded in many places from years of exposure to the elements.

Often they had to climb hand and foot, and once Aaron stumbled as a piece of stair crumbled like sand under his weight. Lorik was directly underneath and caught Aaron as he started to fall. Only Braden seemed undaunted by the narrow, steep flight of steps. He scrambled past the two soldiers; his strong hands and sturdy trunk-like legs provided superior dexterity for the rugged terrain.

Low upon the western peaks across the river, the sun cast lengthy shadows along the canyon and shrouded the three companions in ever-deepening darkness. Above, lurking overhead, the tower of Kanton was monstrous and appeared to simply hang on the edge of the cliff’s face. Cut and bruised, Lorik and Aaron continued to clamber after the dwarf who, now far ahead of them, seemed to regain his strength with every step.

Far below, the river swirled and churned through the massive, narrow ravine, its thunderous voice echoed against the stone cliffs as it rumbled through the canyon. Across the chasm, the sister tower loomed in the lengthening shadows. Though once a mighty stronghold, its ramparts and battlements lay fractured and fallen, leaving nothing but a hollow, stone cylinder. The tower of Kanton, being more intact, stood with the ancient splendor of its craftsmen, with only the upper level in ruins.

Each grueling step brought Aaron and his companions closer to the ledge where the ancient fortress waited. Fighting through exhaustion, Aaron finally reached the base of the tower. The ancient fortification stood tall, and if the upper level were still intact, it would have been a sight to behold. Its wide base was made of massive blocks carved from the surrounding cliffs. Scattered on the ground, like debris from a windstorm, lay the shattered remains of the upper level. Large fractured stones that once served to protect the upper ballista now were cast aside, covered with moss. The rotted timber of a catapult’s throwing arm rested nearby, useless. Several marks on the arm indicated that the wood had been burned long ago, perhaps when the tower had fallen.

As the companions circled the tower they discovered an overgrown trail leading east into the heart of the Kanton Mountains. The path was carved out of the stone and climbed into the steep, rocky crags. Beyond that, the Kanton Mountains, with their snow-capped peaks that glowed in hues of red and purple as the sun faded in the west, looked like jagged teeth piercing into the twilight sky.

“We best take our shelter in the tower, the day is spent and we would be safer inside,” said Braden. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he walked toward the entrance to the tower. Aaron and Lorik followed, wary, but in desperate need of rest.

The interior was a jumbled mass of burned and broken wood and stone. To their left, a railed stair was built on the inner wall, circling its way to the top of the structure. Dust and cobwebs intensified the gloom of their surroundings. In the center of the room lay massive wooden beams, broken and burned along with piles of planks and old, rotted furniture. A massive hole had been smashed through the center, puncturing every floor as if someone had dropped a boulder from above. Aaron could see all the way to the sky.

The sun finally passed beyond the peaks of the western mountains and left the tower in darkness. Above them, through the ruined upper levels, stars dotted the evening sky. A breeze began to blow, eerily voicing its disapproval as it howled through the old structure. Echoing from the canyon below, the raging river thundered on.

“Try and find some means of light,” ordered Aaron. Lorik and Braden began to rummage through the heaps and piles that were cast all about the main floor while Aaron carefully navigated the stairs around the interior wall. Slowly he inched up to the next level. He gripped the cast iron rail for support and found it so rusted that it occasionally crumbled in his hand. He pressed tight against the outer wall and climbed about twenty stairs to the second level.

On the platform, Aaron strained his eyes to see the shapes and forms of the ruins. In the distance—what he first thought was a trick of his eyes—a pale, white light glowed. Anxious that they were not alone in the tower, he slowly and carefully began to navigate the outer edge of the landing. With every step, the boards creaked and groaned under his weight. He crept along, careful to find his way with his hands, tripping over a barrel that rested against the wall. The pale light grew brighter as he drew near, illuminating the faint outline of a smaller figure, sprawled out upon the floor. The captain sat motionless, wishing he held his sword.

Aaron breathed a sigh as he finally realized that the figure was a dwarf now long dead. Clutched in the fallen warrior’s bony hand, a small, round stone radiated a ghostly white light. The dwarf’s body lay near the edge of the hole in the center of the floor, with a massive wooden beam across its back. He feared the ancient supports might collapse, but he wanted to retrieve the illumine-stone. On his hands and knees, he crawled the remaining distance to the old dwarf.

The wood issued mournful groans—eerie exclamations to the fragile strength of the floorboards. He reached the booted foot of the body and a loud, frightening snap resounded in echoes up the tower. He held his breath and waited for any other sound of breaking wood. When none other came, Aaron exhaled in relief and continued toward the skeletal remains. He clambered to the broken timber that lay across the ancient dwarf’s back, a beam which formerly supported the upper levels. He imagined the chaos that must have transpired as the building began to collapse.

The light emanating through the old dwarf’s fingers provided Aaron a view of the remains. Traces of the beard were still readily apparent, as well as his heavy brow above the vacuous eye sockets. No flesh remained, only a thin layer of tissue covered the skeletal frame. The ancient warrior wore a heavy tunic over dull and pitted armor. A braid of gold thread still reflected the pale light, interwoven in the dwarf’s beard. The fallen dwarf’s arms were stretched out before him, an ancient axe in one hand and the illumine stone in the other. Aaron wanted to retrieve them both.

As the captain moved closer, the floor creaked again. He knelt down, desperately hoping that the aged timbers would support him just a little longer. He reached for the dwarf’s arm and carefully pried apart the fingers which gripped the glowing stone. It was small, no more than the size of an egg, but the stone was heavy. Its pale glow was beautiful as it shimmered in his hand. Holding it up, he could see, dimly, the entire circumference of the platform he sat upon, the massive breach in the center, and the stairs that wound their way up to the next level.

The battle-axe was a different matter altogether. It was in the hand opposite to him, and he needed to step across the fallen body to try and recover it. It also sat much closer to the edge of the breach with the blade just peering over the hole. He wanted the weapon, however, and believed that they would need it if they were to survive the mountain path ahead. Stepping over the body, the old floor gave a loud snap, and falling debris clattered on the floor below.

“Hey!” Braden shouted. “What are you doing up there?”

Aaron had momentarily forgotten that his two companions were just below him. “I’ve found something!” the captain replied. “I’ve recovered a glowing stone and am trying to retrieve a weapon.”

“Great!” Braden said. “Just watch where you drop the next piece of timber. That last one almost struck my head.”

Aaron couldn’t make out what Lorik said next, but it brought a laugh from Braden. Carefully he inched his way closer to the edge. On his knees, with the light in his left hand, he reached toward the axe with his right. He touched the handle with the tips of his fingers, slowly manipulating it until he was able to grip the ancient weapon. Just then, the sound of a loud crack echoed off the walls of the room. In a rush of motion the floor gave way and Aaron fell into the darkness beneath, landing sprawled out on a heap of rubble. Lorik and Braden jumped out of the way just in time as the second level, the dead dwarf, and the captain all came crashing down.

Aaron moaned as he lay in the pile of debris. He still held the stone and the ancient weapon and smiled through the dust that settled upon him like snow. Braden was first to reach him and began moving the splintered wood that had fallen with Aaron. The support beam that had pinned the ancient warrior had tumbled off the pile and left the ancient dwarf exposed.

Braden’s eyes fell upon the skeletal remains. On its brow, a circlet of gold reflected the light of the illumine stone. He reached for the small band, holding it in his hand like a prized possession. Carefully he brushed off the dust that collected, and rubbed it with his tunic until it shined.

Aaron sat up, rubbing the pain from his shoulder, and watched Braden as the dwarf carefully attended the old circlet of gold. He could easily see that Braden was deeply moved or troubled by the discovery. “What is it?” he asked.

“Captain,” he said, as he looked up at Aaron. “This is the ancient insignia of the house of Brekken. This circlet is the crown of lord Brekken’s son!” Braden gasped in amazement even as he thought about it. “It was said that the sons of Brekken defended the river… that after the cataclysm of Charis, Brekken’s sons reached the ancient towers to repel a massive flotilla that advanced up the channel. The story goes that each son commanded a separate tower and died as they faced the advancement of an overwhelming enemy.” Braden paused as he looked again at the circle of gold in his hand. “I,” Braden hesitated, “I never truly believed it… until now.”

Aaron and Lorik listened as Braden recounted the tale. “It was said that the sons of Brekken, against overwhelming odds, fought the advancing hoard of the usurper’s fleet. The two sons, with only a handful of dwarves, destroyed countless ships that forced their way up the canyon. When their forces were destroyed, it was said that the sons of Brekken, alone in the towers, continued to operate the ballistae until the end. That last part, I admit, is probably not true, but these ancient remains give great credibility to the rest of the story.”

When Braden finished his tale, Aaron reached for the offered hand of his sergeant and stood, rubbing his bruised shoulder. With a light in one hand and an axe in the other, he stepped down from the pile of rubble to the floor below. He handed the weapon to Braden, “I think that this will be best served in your hand.”

Braden took the weapon and held it up to examine it. “It is said, the weapons the dwarf lords possessed were adorned with great virtue… almost magical in quality.” He felt the edge of the blade and found it to be exceptionally sharp. “After all these centuries,” he said, “this weapon has maintained its edge. Our history speaks of these weapons, saying that even in the greatest conflict they would never become dull.”

Braden examined more thoroughly the body of the dwarf. He untied the belt around the dwarf’s waist, the leather still very much intact, and wrapped it around himself. It had a catch for the axe, as well as several jewels of various sizes. He placed the circlet of gold into the satchel.

Aaron wanted to investigate the upper levels of the tower. But their need for rest outweighed his curiosity. “Braden, if you’re up to it, keep the first watch tonight. Lorik and I do not possess your stamina.”

Braden was quite satisfied to take the first watch of the night and assured the captain that he would wake him in three hours. Lorik and Aaron found a small area with no debris and settled down. Braden, with the illumine stone in one hand, hoisted his weapon over his shoulder, and took up a relative position between his two companions and the single entrance to the tower.

 

****

 

“Captain, it’s time for your watch.”

Aaron was groggy and disoriented as he woke, and the time seemed far too short for his repose. But he rose and relieved Braden who handed him the illumine stone and battle-axe. Aaron took the proffered items willingly and walked around the tower to help him stay awake. Glad that Lorik and Braden would enjoy a good rest, he took up a position near the entrance to the tower, enjoying the nights cool, refreshing air.

As the night wore on, Aaron listened to his companions as they slept. They murmured and snored and mumbled unintelligible words. He walked around the circular room and came upon the body of the fallen dwarf. The white stone glowed as if he held the moon in his hand, and the gold thread woven into the dwarf’s beard reflected the light. A thought crossed his mind. Aaron bent down, removed the gold thread from the ancient beard and placed it in his pocket.

The rest of the night passed without incident and all three were glad to have taken the time to rest. Their journey through the Waste and down the Dead River had taken its toll and a good night’s sleep brought renewed hope. Aaron determined that at first light they would examine the upper levels of the ruined tower and then explore the surrounding grounds.

During the meager breakfast, they further rationed all that remained in their satchel. Aaron was impressed none of the contents within the bag suffered at all from their swim in the river. They finished their morning meal and began the process of exploring the ancient ruins.

Lorik looked at Aaron. “Sir, I don’t want to add to the weight of the upper floors. If you’ll allow, I’ll stay on the bottom level and get a good look around the grounds. You and Braden take the upper levels.”

“Certainly,” Aaron said. “Braden, you’re with me.”

Lorik went outside, and Braden followed Aaron up the stairs to the second level. With daylight streaming in from the gaping hole, they could readily see the entire floor, or what remained of it. Directly across from where the stairs emptied onto the platform, they saw a broken piece of the massive beam that had pinned the ancient dwarf. The floor in that section had utterly collapsed. To their left, the platform was still very much intact. They ventured that way, finding a desk, table, and other items normally found in a guardroom. Time and exposure to the elements took a heavy toll on everything they examined. To their right sat a barrel, overturned and all its contents long since poured out. To Aaron’s surprise, Braden began anxiously searching through the rubble.

“You seem to be looking for something,” Aaron said. “What is it?”

Braden turned to the captain, having almost forgotten that he was there. “What… oh, yes. It is required that every regiment kept a record of their activities. I don’t know if that was the practice at the time, but it would be of great significance to my people if I could recover a journal.”

Aaron understood, and began to help Braden search for anything resembling a journal. They tore through the remains of the second floor, careful to stay close to the outer wall. They found nothing but broken, aged relics of a time long ago.

Frustrated, they ventured to the third floor. Just as on the second floor, a large hole dominated the center of the platform. Jagged edges of wood, splintered by some unknown projectile, reached out like broken bones in the middle of the room. Unlike the floor below them, the two could navigate around the entire structure in relative safety. What they discovered on the third level startled them.

The remains of a dozen dwarves lay upon the floor. Some, it appeared, tried to run for the stairs while others seemed to be cast aside by a massive force that propelled them into the tower wall. The remains of four dwarves were piled, one next to the other, against the opposite wall from the stair, their bodies fractured and mangled. Though nothing but skeletons remained of the dwarf contingent, Aaron could envision the surprise and terror that must have struck those who now lay dead.

What amazed him even more was the lack of evidence that anyone else had been in the tower since the destruction of it centuries before. Dust settled upon everything, undisturbed over the years. Not one of the bodies showed the signs of looting and the entire scene seemed to say that once the tower guard fell, they were forgotten. Aaron took to the right and Braden to the left as they navigated around the circumference of the room. Hanging from hooks hammered into the stone wall, Aaron found a rack filled with dwarf armor, weapons, and other gear needed for a squad of soldiers. There were several selections of swords, most of them short with wide blades.

However, one did pique his interest. It was a longer sword, double-edged and perfectly balanced. Carved along the spine of the blade were ornate inscriptions that he could not read. The hilt was inlaid with gold weave, patterned like the branching of vines, with a green jewel imbedded in the pommel. It was sheathed in a leather scabbard, seemingly untouched by the centuries that had passed. It appeared to be made for a man, not a dwarf, and its belt was quite adequate for him. He couldn’t fathom why a sword of this make and design would be found in such a place, unlike as it was to all the other weapons that kept it company. However, he would not be unarmed and gratefully wrapped the belt around his waist and sheathed the weapon. It felt good to have a sword at his side again.

Aaron looked over to Braden, who had found three barrels, untouched by time or the destructive powers that shattered the tower. Each was a small, wooden cask that a man or dwarf could carry with little difficulty. The only marks of violence upon them were scratches where flying debris had run across the surface. One had been knocked over onto its side, but otherwise they were undamaged. Using his axe, he punched a hole into one of the barrels and from the crack a thick, dark liquid flowed out. It was the same draught that the dwarves used in his day, well preserved! He found two empty bottles and filled both with the liquid treasure. Ripping off some cloth from the hem of his cloak, he used the fabric as a make-shift cork, and gratefully placed the two bottles into the satchel he carried.

Together the two climbed to the top level of the tower. Here they discovered the greatest damage yet. The entire area looked as if a massive hammer fell upon a plate of glass. Only splinters remained where once a wooden floor had been. A massive hole in the center marked the place where a catapult stood. Ancient, fractured timbers mingled with great broken stones around the edge of the structure. The upper wall was broken in several places, and every piece of wood looked as if it had been scorched by a great fire. The platform looked far too treacherous to navigate around the outer edge, so Aaron and Braden simply stared at the destruction.

Where the stairs emptied onto the platform, they could see below to the river. It was far down, and their vantage point gave them an exceptional view of the entire canyon. To Aaron it looked like an ideal location to defend the waterway, with its twin tower looking at them from across the channel. He couldn’t imagine what weapon would have sent a projectile from the river to land on the center of the uppermost platform, and with enough force to crash all the way through to the ground level. No river catapult could be massive enough to send a shot this high, he thought. Aaron shook his head and turned back down the stairs. Braden, reluctantly, followed the captain.

They arrived at the ground level to find Lorik waiting for them, a huge grin on his face. Braden and Aaron walked over to him.

“Well, Sergeant,” Aaron asked, “what is it?”

“Captain,” Lorik said with amazement, “you need to come and see this!”

“Before we go,” said Aaron, “I want you to go to the second level of the tower and find yourself a weapon. There are some hanging on the wall… several swords and axes, as well as pikes, spears and a variety of other artifacts. Be quick and we’ll follow you.”

“That won’t be necessary, Captain… wait till you see.” Lorik walked out the door, with Braden and Aaron close behind. He turned to the right and followed the wall of the tower around until he found a small, hidden trail leading away. It meandered for several yards, and took the men to a wall of rock, covered over with brush. Lorik moved the brush aside and revealed the faint outline of a door carefully carved and formed to look like the rock face. Lorik grabbed a small indentation on the stone, using it as a handle, and pulled the ancient door open. Within the hidden chamber they saw the glint of steel, gold and silver--a vast cavern filled with indescribable treasure. Swords, shields, and other assorted armament of various sizes lined the outer walls, while in the center were vast piles of trays, goblets, and chests filled with jewels and gold. Cloaks, as well, hung from pegs along the walls, untouched by time.

“How is this possible?” Aaron asked in amazement. “How could these things endure the ravages of time?”

“It is said that my people, long ago, possessed the powers of the elements.” Braden answered. “You had a glimpse of it when Garam brought fire to wood. At the peak of our civilization, the dwarf masters could use these skills to make rooms such as this where the passage of time does not corrode or spoil any artifact. They used it to carefully preserve many of our greatest treasures.” The dwarf looked around at the vast store. “I think we are looking upon some of those items even now.” He reached down and patted the ancient blade that hung on his side.

Aaron was amazed at how much wealth was found in the dwarves vault. “How is it, then, that this treasure was so easily hidden? I would imagine that someone by now would have entered this area and discovered what Lorik has found.”

“The old wisdom gave my people the capacity to create places of hiding as well. I can only guess that over the centuries, the ancient power of the dwarves has faded,” Braden said. “That is probably why Lorik was able to find it so easily when it had remained hidden for so long. Besides,” he said, “I doubt that anyone has been up here for centuries.”

The three companions entered the massive vault and began examining the treasure. Great coats of armor, cloaks, and shields of every size hung carefully against the walls. Many were plain, unadorned with any markings. Some, however, were gilded with intricate designs of trees, swords, crowns and castles. The swords were all of excellent quality, with well kept scabbards. Lorik found one to his liking and strapped it on his waist. Aaron, as well, donned a lightly woven chain-mail jerkin and cloak with the markings of a massive oak tree, vines of ivy twisting around it and a seven-jeweled crown hovering over it.

Braden discovered a wealth of available resources as much of the treasure was built by and for the dwarves. He collected two carved throwing knives, a helmet inlaid with gold. He also found a breastplate of metal, light and easily worn under his cloak. It was ornate, well-crafted and boasted a design of an axe and hammer crossed over the chest. Aaron and Lorik looked at their companion and no longer saw Braden as before, he now looked every much the part of a stout, courageous warrior.

“Braden,” Aaron said.

“Yes.”

“You mentioned before about the gold thread woven into the beards of your people. Who presented such markings to them?”

Braden pondered the question for a moment. “Well,” he said, “when a warrior had come of age and showed his courage, his father normally presented the gold thread during a time of celebration. And, if the father was not alive, his commander often took the role. Why?”

Aaron motioned for Lorik to stand by his side. Then both men stood in front of Braden. “For years,” Aaron said, “you were branded a coward by your people yet denied the opportunity to change.” Aaron reached into his pocket. “Over these many days, not only have you shown your courage, you have demonstrated the highest quality of any warrior or soldier I’ve had the privilege of serving with.” He pulled out the thin, gold cord. “I don’t know what type of ceremony is necessary, but I do know you have proved to me that you deserve to wear this.” He handed the symbol of courage to Braden.

The dwarf slowly reached his hands out and took the proffered item. “Captain,” he said as his voice wavered. “I… I don’t know what to say. You honor me far more than is my right.”

“My friend,” Lorik said. “It takes great courage, maybe even greater courage, to acknowledge a failure and try to overcome it.” He stepped up to Braden. “If this gold weave is a symbol of courage, I can think of no one more suited to wear it than you.”

Braden smiled and tied the thread into his beard, twisting the gold and crimson strand so that it wove its way from his chin to the tip of his whiskers. His eyes filled with pride, he looked up at Aaron. “You honor me, Captain, and even now I feel that my disgrace is taken away.”

“Now,” Aaron said, “I think it’s time we move on from here. We have a long, hard march ahead of us through some very rugged terrain.” Lorik and Braden nodded their agreement and all three stocked up for the expedition.

Having gathered all they could reasonably carry, they carefully set brush and debris at the entrance in order to hide the doorway. Then, looking at the long journey before them, they set out for the mountain pass. With the day nearly half over, the sun riding high in the noonday sky, Aaron, Lorik, and Braden began their arduous, upward climb. Though the air was chilled with the last trailing of winter, the scene was quiet, serene and possessed an eerie tranquility.

Aaron occasionally peered into the sky, gazing through the expanse. “I wonder,” he said, “if we’ve seen the last of that flying demon.”

“What do you mean?” inquired Lorik.

“Well,” the captain continued, “we’re drawing closer to their lair. It seems likely that we might meet up with that creature again… or one that’s like it.”

“It does seem a bit too, well, easy,” Lorik interjected.

Braden looked at the sergeant with bewilderment. “You have a funny sense of easy!” he exclaimed. “If these past few weeks have been easy, I’m not looking forward to what you might call difficult.”

“Lorik’s right,” Aaron said. “If this mountain pass leads directly to the deladrin’s stronghold, why not guard it?”

Braden shook his head. “Don’t worry… I’m sure that we will have our fill of them before this adventure is over.”

The rugged pass proved far more daunting than they first imagined. The path, carved into the granite mountainside, followed the edge of a precipice as it meandered into the snowy peaks. High above, but much closer than Lorik or Aaron had ever experienced, fluffy white clouds drifted casually in the brilliant blue sky. All around echoed the noises of the mountains and a chilling wind blew through the many canyons.

Step by step they labored, sometimes having to climb hand and foot just to keep moving. Lorik and Aaron suffered from exhaustion, muscles burning in rebellion against the steep, narrow path. Braden, however, proved why dwarves lived in the mountains. He clambered along the precipitous path without a hint of weariness, showing the dexterity of a mountain goat upon the rocky heights.

Aaron looked up to see Braden far ahead of them, stopped on a narrow ledge to wait, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazed out over the vast expanse of the southern reaches of Celedon. In the distance he saw the shimmering waters of the Inland Sea. It’s vast, ocean-like expanse merely a drop of water on the world. Green prairies and spreading forests covered rolling hills as rivers twisted their channels through the contours.

“I’m glad you finally waited!” puffed Lorik as he scrambled onto the ledge with Braden. Behind him Aaron silently climbed until he also arrived at the small landing.

“I thought about leaving you behind,” Braden quipped as he reached into the satchel. Removing one of the bottles, he pulled the cloth from the neck and took a drink of the revitalizing liquid.

“So,” Aaron remarked, “that’s your secret.” The captain reached for the decanter as Braden handed it to him. The warm, restorative drink did much to sooth their aching muscles from the long, grueling climb. As much as Aaron wanted to enjoy a moment’s rest, he knew they needed to press as far as possible before nightfall. “Let’s go,” was all he said as he stood and began to climb again.

After several hours the path leveled out, crossing a high plateau between two handsome spires of rock. The sun had dropped below the mountains, leaving the high pass in shadows as the sky above slowly faded toward night. It was here that Aaron mentioned a rest, and Lorik heartily agreed. Even Braden had finally reached his limit, though the delight of being in the mountains still shone in his eyes.

The three set camp in a crevice that paralleled their path along the mountain. It was small, crowded for three, but provided shelter from the blustering winds as well as any prying eyes. The mountain air felt clean and crisp. Several patches of snow remained on their path. But the snow had not found its way into the small culvert where they now rested. To the west the sun sneaked out from behind a mountain peak, momentarily bathing the three companions in a brilliant orange and purple shower of light, a last gasp of daylight before Celedon rested in darkness.

Aaron wished for a campfire, knowing that the cold, frosty air would bite them and make it difficult to endure the harsh mountain pass. Braden rummaged through the satchel and retrieved one of the bottles of the dwarf draught and passed it around to Aaron. He drank deeply, and the warm, soothing liquid sent a pulse of heat to the very extremities, then handed it to Lorik. The chill air seemed of little concern, then, as the three of them sat close.

With the night upon them, Aaron retrieved the illumine stone and set it between them so that they could see one another. He looked to Braden. “So, now that we’re here, how far is it to the entrance that you spoke of?”

“Perhaps a week,” said the dwarf. “It is a hard journey in these mountains. Unlike the Shadow Mountains, these are a range of rugged cliffs and jagged peaks. The path that we’re on has not been used in over a hundred years, as far as I know, and I’m sure the many bridges are going to prove dangerous, if not altogether missing.”

“What can we expect to meet?” Lorik asked.

“I don’t know. Our history speaks of many dangers that exist in these mountains, not the least of which are the gremellaks.” Braden paused as if in thought. He looked at Aaron and Lorik with a determined seriousness. “It is also said that there exists in these mountains a race of giants. The ancient stories say that they protect the mountains. I don’t know if I believe it, I’ve never seen anything of the sort, and I was raised in these mountains.”

Lorik chuckled. “The way things have gone so far, I think we should expect the unexpected. Is there anything else?”

“Just the deladrin,” said Braden. “Other than that, we shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“Great… mountain giants, miniature monsters, or flaming enemies,” Lorik quipped. “Sounds too easy.”

Aaron listened to his companions as they continued a mindless barrage of antics for some time, but finally chimed in, “I think we should get some rest. Braden, take the first watch. Wake me in three hours, and I will relieve you.” With that, the other two settled down and Braden took a position where he could observe both his companions and the path.

When they woke to the first light of dawn breaking over the eastern horizon, all three discovered their garments possessed qualities that prevented the cold from penetrating to their bodies, keeping them warm through the night.

Aaron rose, stretching the night’s sleep from his joints and wishing he had something more to eat than the meager scraps that remained in their pack. However, he received the small scrap of food with gratitude. He also drank some of the restorative from the opened bottle, passing it to his companions. The warming draught brought vitality to his aching muscles, and he felt a much needed surge of energy. Strapping his sword to his side and scratching his growing beard, Aaron set out again on the trail with Braden and Lorik close behind.

Except for a stray bird fluttering overhead or an occasional creature scampering across the path, the days passed with little excitement. At first their passage appeared as a flat plateau but proved to be a slow, steady incline. Coming near the western edge it was apparent that the mountain peaks were far nearer than when they began the long trek across the open expanse. The jagged cliffs that rose up in massive outcroppings now loomed ominously close. And the peaks, once soaring over their heads were much closer, if not less menacing. Trudging through snow drifts and across barren rock, they came to a large projection of stone, looking as if it had been quarried many years past. Aaron gazed at the cliffs ahead of them as the trail meandered upwards through a narrow canyon between two mighty peaks. Perhaps it was his years as a soldier, or simply their recent experiences, but he sensed a great danger looming ahead of them.

“This is a perfect place for an ambush,” Lorik said. “I could imagine a horde of gremellaks nesting in the crags and crevices of the canyon walls, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting travelers.”

“You’re right,” said Braden. “When my people finally evacuated the ancient halls, we were attacked right here. Many didn’t escape, I was carried away from the battle and brought to Brekken Dahl, but many fought to their bitter end. The gremellaks seemed to conjure themselves from thin air.”

Aaron looked over terrain. “Is their any way around this pass? Can we avoid what looks like an obvious place for an attack?”

“No, the mountains are too treacherous for those not adapted to the environment. Dwarves are mountain dwellers and are suited to that life. I feel very much at home in this land, but even I would not try to venture around the pass. Our only way to regain the Book of Aleth is to find the old guard entrance. And the road goes right through the pass ahead of us.” Braden spoke with apprehension, though from the look in his eyes he did not want to face what might lay before them.

Taking a deep breath, Aaron stepped out and continued to follow the path that led to the canyon entrance. It stood a mile off, and the closer they walked, the more ominous the passage appeared. His mind conjured images of a hundred eyes watching him but he steeled himself, drew his sword, and continued. One thing, he thought, at least I won’t be taken by surprise. Behind him, Lorik and Braden loosed their weapons in preparation for any encounter.