I have studied the magic that wards the netherworld and its portals into our own, and I have traveled such roads as exist between the two and returned alive. —Bremen, Druid
s there life after death? This question has dominated much of human thought since Man was capable of reason. Both the Druids and the earliest rulers of the Four Lands believed in the afterlife. The ancient kings believed they could reach it through death ritual and protected burial in sacred ground. The Druids believed they could breach the barrier between the living and the dead through the use of magic. The rulers built the Hall of Kings to protect their bodies as they awaited passage to the next life. The Druids used the mysterious lake known as the Hadeshorn as a portal to the netherworld.
For thousands of years the influence of the Druids shaped the course of history within the Four Lands, yet their lives have always been mysterious and shrouded in secrecy, hidden behind the walls of Paranor and the cloak of their magic. Their deaths are no less mysterious. Druids such as Bremen and Allanon influenced events in the world long after their mortal bodies died. Some scholars believe that the Druids have conquered death entirely. In actuality, they have not defeated the reaper, but rather have found a way to reach beyond the grave through a portal to the netherworld known as the Hadeshorn.
Located two days’ travel from the walls of Paranor, the Hadeshorn lies within a hidden valley, known as the Valley of Shale, just beyond the edge of the Dragon’s Teeth mountain range. The Dragon’s Teeth surround most of the region around Paranor like a protective wall, rugged and uncrossable save for a few passes. To reach the valley from the Druids’ Keep, it is necessary to cross the mountains through the Kennon Pass, a channel nature cut through the heart of the mountains when they were yet young. The Kennon Pass leads to a trail that skirts the southern edge of the Dragon’s Teeth, above the Mermidon River. Here a poorly marked and seldom-used trail leads back up into the foothills of the southern edge of the Dragon’s Teeth. Just beyond the foothills, this trail narrows, becoming rugged with broken rock and clusters of fallen boulders. Thousands of years ago, these boulders were part of the core of a mountain destroyed by a great cataclysm—a mountain that once may have stood where the Valley of Shale now lies.
Beyond the final ridge of broken boulders, the trail suddenly opens onto a great barren bowl that appears to be made of glittering black glass. This is the Valley of Shale, the doorstep to the Hall of Kings and home to the spirits of the ages. Its name comes from the crushed shards of glistening, razor-edged shale that cover its surface. The slippery rock makes footing treacherous. Within the valley, there are no trees, plants, or life of any other kind—only the crushed black rock that seems to both reflect and absorb all light. An oppressive silence blankets the entire valley, as if it were cut off from the outside world. Even the Druids come here only when the need is great, and then only at night.
Calling the spirits of the dead, at the Hadeshorn in the Valley of Shale.
In the exact center of the valley lies the Hadeshorn. Broad and opaque, it is not really a lake in the traditional sense at all. Its waters pulse with a deep green inner light, as if the entire lake were alive. In the darkness of a moonless night, the green glow from the lake is the only illumination, reflected by the mirror-bright shale in eerie chorus. Like a living thing, the lake has been said to have moods. In the strongest wind, its waters may lie perfectly still, a sheet of unblemished glass, yet on the most still of nights it may swirl and writhe as if driven by an unseen storm. When awakened, the waters pulse and mutter with voices just beyond understanding.
No mortal can touch these waters and live. Indeed, the whole of the valley is a place of death, forbidden to all, the waters deadly poisonous. The Druids claim it is a portal, a breach between the mortal world and the netherworld—a joining between past, present, and future. Some of the ancient writings indicate that it is a passageway that leads to the afterlife. Allanon’s writings of Bremen indicate that it is a gate into the void between life and death, the same limbo to which Paranor itself was consigned for so many years—a void where souls may eternally linger between death and final peace. The lake itself is believed to be only a single portal into this void. The Druid’s Well is almost certainly another. There may well be many others that are as yet undiscovered.
It is said that all the spirits of the ages are consigned here, but only the Druids are strong enough to answer a summoning and reach through the portal to communicate with the living. There are no records of any non-Druid spirits being summoned, so it is unknown if someone who lacked magic in life could return through the portal in death. It is known that Druids have an unusual affinity with the lake. Bremen was able to walk into its embrace before death to enter a state between life and death. The Druid Allanon, near death at the Chard Rush, was able to cause the waters of the Rush to alter their behavior to mirror that of the Hadeshorn, despite the fact that the Chard Rush was many miles from the Valley of Shale. Since then, Allanon’s spirit has appeared at both the Chard Rush and the Hadeshorn, indicating that the physical laws of this world may have no bearing on the lake or those who have passed beyond.
While it may not be the only portal to the realm of the dead, the Hadeshorn is the only place where the spirits of the dead can be summoned to communicate with the living. Such a summoning can be done only by a Druid trained in the arts, and even then, only at the hour before dawn. A summoning is very dangerous, even for the trained adept.
Bremen was the first Druid who was recorded as having summoned the spirits of the Hadeshorn. He claimed to have learned the art from the ancient texts of the Elves. It is probable that Galaphile, an Elf, also knew of the art, as did some of the earliest Druids, but if so, their knowledge was never recorded in the Druid Histories. The ability was lost until Bremen recovered the knowledge and used it to reach Galaphile’s spirit. Since that time, the Druids have passed the knowledge to each successor, that he might have the knowledge to learn secrets hidden from the living. To ensure that Allanon would be able to reach him, Bremen is said to have passed into the deadly waters before his time, so that his spirit would be available for his son and heir at need. Because of this, summonings were not as difficult for Allanon as for his father.
Summoning the Dead
THE FOLLOWING EXCERPT WAS TAKEN WITH PERMISSION FROM THE DRUID HISTORIES. THE ACTUAL MAGIC AND RITUAL WORDS HAVE BEEN OMITTED TO PROTECT THE UNTRAINED.
Calling the dead requires extreme strength of purpose and single-minded determination. It must not be done lightly, for there is always a price for daring to know that which is forbidden. The need must be great enough to justify the risk.
A summoning can be done only at the Hadeshorn in the hour before dawn, and the spirits summoned must return to the waters at dawn. The adept must approach the water’s edge at the appropriate time, being careful not to touch the waters themselves. The waters may begin to stir at the approach of a living being. The adept must then find within himself perfect stillness and firmness of purpose as well as the belief that what he will see and hear cannot touch him or shake his resolve, for he will be sorely tested by those he dares to wake from eternal sleep. Once the ritual begins, even the slightest hesitation or distraction can be deadly.
The summoning ritual must be performed slowly and carefully. This ritual will be slightly different for each adept, as it must be tailored to the skills and needs of the one who calls. It is necessary to speak the name of the summoner, and to speak of the history and need. If the spirits are willing to respond, the lake will suddenly churn and boil as they fight to break free of their bondage. The adept must stand fast despite the horrific nature of the cries from the souls the lake holds within.
Once the summoning has begun, the summoner will be encompassed in a realm that is not entirely part of either world, neither living nor dead. Only the dead and the one who calls will be allowed within this vacuum. Those outside may be able to see through its barriers, but they will hear nothing. The summoner will hear anguished cries without words and feel fear that demands escape. To survive, the adept must remain fixed on his purpose and stand fast.
When the called spirit appears, the summoner must speak its name. A spirit cannot remain unless it is recognized and named by the summoner. Once named, the spirit may choose to answer questions. These answers are most often in the form of visions. These visions are of the truth of the future as seen by those from the past. But the visions are often incomplete and out of context. Though the visions show truth, the spirits are of a realm beyond ours and have an imperfect understanding of the world they have lost. Care must be taken to avoid assumptions. It is best simply to memorize every detail for later analysis.
The spirits may remain only until dawn and will return to the lake at first light. The adept must not attempt to hold a spirit even if the answers are incomplete. A spirit cannot be held past its time; to try to do so can have disastrous consequences.
The Hadeshorn will reclaim its dead with vehemence equal to their release, but the dead will not return to their bondage easily. As a price for their disturbance, they always take something of the living with them. The summoner will pay for his knowledge with some part of his life force. If the summoner lacks sufficient strength, he may not survive the ordeal at all.
Allanon himself seems to have transcended the normal rules of the afterlife, in that he alone of all the dead managed to appear to nonadepts at a place outside the Hadeshorn. He also was said to have manipulated dreams from beyond death and to have appeared to those in need without being summoned by name. Perhaps Allanon, believed to be the greatest of the old Druids, found a way to use his formidable skills to eternally link himself with the world of the living in a way no other spirit had ever managed. Even so, his shade was reported to have said that he lacked “the power in death that I possessed in life. I am permitted to see only bits and pieces of the world that was or the future that will be. Death limits both time and being. I am the past.”
While most who dared the Hadeshorn came seeking guidance, some came looking for assistance that was more tangible. At least twice the power of the lake was used to enhance weapons. The first time was to empower a talisman already forged from both magic and steel. It is said that the Sword of Shannara gained its formidable magic for truth from the spirits of the Druid dead who consecrated it. The second time was to enhance a weapon of iron and make it something more.
No one knows exactly when the Hadeshorn was formed. Some scholars speculate that the lake must have been created by the earliest Druids while they experimented with passages to other dimensions; others suggest that it was created during the Great Wars in the aftermath of the terrible forces that changed the entire world. Still others insist that it was always here, though veiled from any who did not have eyes to see, and was revealed only as the presence of magic in the land grew stronger with the demise of technology. All that is certain is that the Hadeshorn, whether eternal or created, provides a chilling look into the future that none living can escape.
Beyond the Valley of Shale lies the only path to a place even more fearsome and forbidding than the Hadeshorn. It is the Hall of Kings, ancient tomb of the royal dead. But where the Hadeshorn has often served as a portal to allow contact between the spirits of the dead and the living, the primary purpose of the Hall of Kings was to keep them eternally apart.
The path between the valley and the tomb is an arduous half-day’s trek, rising northwards through the upper reaches of the Dragon’s Teeth mountains, where snow blankets the peaks year round and temperatures seldom rise above freezing. The footing is treacherous. Loose rocks underfoot, avalanches overhead, and hidden crevices present constant danger to even skilled Trackers. It is hard to imagine the heavily laden funeral parties of the ancient kings bearing their dead and their treasures over such terrain, but there is no other path to the hall’s entrance.
Once through the heights, the trail begins a slow descent toward an impenetrable cliff wall. Just when the traveler feels certain that there is no way out, the path dips sharply down into a canyon cut deep within the mountains, to wind through a narrow mist-covered passage between two cliffs. After several hundred yards, the trail widens and the mist fades to reveal a cavernous opening in the cliff face. Like the Hadeshorn, the place is unnaturally still, deathly silent. Two huge stone warriors measuring at least a hundred feet in height stand guard on either side of the shadowed opening. Despite the silence, the warriors seem almost alive, looming expectantly, their stone eyes appearing to follow every movement. They guard the entrance to the Hall of Kings, tomb of the ancient rulers of the Four Lands. The sole adornments on the opening itself are three words carved into the stone above the entrance. The words are undecipherable, written in a lost language, but the warning they give is clear: Only the dead and their priests are meant to cross beyond this portal.
Death of a King: Ancient Burial
In the first centuries after the Great Wars, organized civilizations of any kind were rare. The few rulers who managed to create a semblance of order were valued by their people and hated by their enemies. When one of these kings died, in order to insure his safe passage to the afterlife he was taken to the priests at the Hall of Kings to be given over to the Gods of the Dead. It was believed that a dead person could only have an afterlife if his physical body were protected from harm.
When a ruler died, his body was carefully anointed with scented oils and wrapped in fine linens in preparation for the journey to the Hall of Kings. The dead king’s attendants gathered his most prized possessions so he would have use of them in the next life. Then the king, his treasure, his mourners, family, and attendants made the arduous journey through the Dragon’s Teeth Mountains to the entrance to the Hall of Kings. There, under the watchful gaze of the fearsome stone warriors towering over the shadowed cavern, the final public funerary services were held, formally passing the ruler and his possessions from the land of the living to that of the dead. It is likely that favored animals, servants, and concubines were sacrificed at this time to join their dead ruler.
The priests took the bodies and the treasure deep into the caverns, leaving the funeral party outside the doors. Only the dead and their priests could pass the portal. Any other living creature that entered would soon join the dead; the creatures that guarded the passages allowed their masters and their royal burden to pass unmolested, but were alert for any other who dared to follow. Upon reaching the Tomb of Kings, the royal treasure was placed beneath the great coiled-serpent altar, where it would be treated with poisons to protect it from grave robbers. A ritual consecrating the treasure was probably performed at this time, as was the internment of the sacrificed servants and concubines.
The king himself was carried through the far doors of the Tomb, to the Assembly, where his body was placed on the stone altar, the Pyre of the Dead, before the reflecting pool. The priests performed the necessary rituals, then left the body to be guarded by the great serpent of the pool, Valg. The king’s body would lie in state on this stone altar for a certain number of days, the number determined by his rank and station. During this time, his soul would be judged. If the soul was found worthy, the spirit would free itself of its mortal shell to journey on to the afterlife and the body was preserved so that the spirit might make use of it in the next life. If the soul was unworthy, the dragon Valg devoured the body so the soul would never be free. The spirit was then dammed to eternity in the land of the lost.
At the end of the required period of mourning the body of one found worthy would be interred in the Tomb of Kings in a vault set into the rotunda wall, which was carved with the ruler’s name and a song of his deeds. A statue prepared by artisans during the period of mourning would be placed before the vault, facing the center of the great rotunda. The statue may have served as a second home for the spirit in the afterlife. The treasures and possessions of the ruler, now deadly to living tissue, were placed at the foot of the statue so that the deceased could have access to his most prized personal possessions in the afterlife. In their time, the ruler’s family would be interred near him, though only those who were themselves kings would have a statue to mark their graves.
It was believed that so long as his body and treasures were protected on this plane, the king and his family would have full use of them in the afterlife. He was expected to continue his reign among the subjects of the netherworld.
The Druid historians believe the hall was built sometime between the Great Wars and the First War of the Races, probably during the first thousand years. At that time, the magic unleashed during the final cataclysms was still strong in the land. Civilization was sparse and consisted primarily of many small warring kingdoms. The priests who built the Hall of Kings and controlled it served a pantheon of ancient gods of death. The names of those gods have been lost along with those of the kingdoms whose royalty was interred here. But the magical creatures they unleashed to protect the tomb, ancient and powerful creatures from the time of Faerie, survived their masters and are still very much alive. Because the priests were able to harness these creatures, it has been suggested that they may have been early Druids, or at least men who had the use of the magic in a fashion similar to that of the first Druids. Whoever they were, very little remains except their temple and the deadly guardians within.
Built within an existing series of ancient caverns, the hall was designed to make use of the naturally winding pathways of the caverns to protect the dead and confuse the living. The largest rooms were utilized for the tomb itself, and to house the creatures that guarded the dead. The original system of caverns is the largest cavern known to exist within the Four Lands. While no one is certain of the exact size of the complex, it probably covers at least fifteen square miles, and it is suspected to contain over fifty miles of passageways on various levels.
To ensure that the dead would travel safely to the afterlife with all their possessions intact, the builders placed their magical creatures along the passageways in a series of deadly traps designed to kill anything that entered. These ancient priests wanted to be certain that the world of the living and that of the dead stayed clearly separated. Since the time of the War of the Races, only a few have dared venture within. The survivors are alive only because they were protected by strong Druid magic. For anyone else, to enter the Hall of Kings is to embrace certain death. Even for the Druids, it presents a severe test of strength and will.
The Druids discovered the existence of the hall sometime during the period in which the first Druid Council was in place, and they attempted to explore and map it. There is no record of how many lives were lost during that first expedition, but the numbers were high enough to cause the Druids to bar their own order from further explorations. After the ban, only those with great strength of will and magic ever dared to pass into the cavern. At least one of those early Druids survived long enough to learn of the dangers and create a few rudimentary maps. These maps are kept hidden within the pages of the Druid Histories to prevent casual discovery.
The great Druid Allanon survived the passage at least twice, though only the latter expedition has been documented. The only non-Druids known to have survived passage through the caverns were the five men who were part of that famous expedition. They were there not to explore the hall or partake of the treasure, but simply to find safe passage through the mountains that were otherwise blocked by the Warlock Lord’s armies. Since that time, only one other man is known to have survived a journey to the Hall of Kings: Walker Boh, who later became a Druid. He did not survive unscathed, however, paying for his passage with the loss of his arm.
The entrance to the hall leads to a maze of winding passageways and chambers. The purpose of most of these chambers has never been discerned. It is likely that many of them are living quarters for the priests and their retinues. Due to the dangers involved, even the Druids are unwilling to study them for further clues.
Most of the walls are of rough stone carved out over millennia by water seepage, but the floors have been smoothed of all irregularities by human hands. In some cases, the floors appear to have been covered with a coating of sand or fine stone dust.
Approximately a half-mile or so along one of the passageways lies the first major room of the cavern, the Cave of the Sphinxes, and the first major hazard, the Sphinxes themselves. There are no accurate descriptions of the Cave or the amazing living statues that inhabit it. Any who have looked upon its denizens have been turned to stone by the mere sight. As a result, scholars have had to depend on other clues provided by blindfolded survivors or the visions provided by Druid magic to determine the details of the room. The chamber is known to be quite large, as it generates substantial echoes, and measures at least 150 yards across at the point where the pathway passes through it.
According to Druid records, the Sphinxes within the room are creatures that predate the Great Wars, and they may even predate human existence on this world. They do not have the attributes of living beings at all, but appear to be carved from solid stone, much like the warriors that stand as sentries at the cavern entrance. The Sphinxes are huge, probably in excess of a hundred feet tall, with great beastly bodies topped by human heads and faces. Still as the stone of which they are carved, they do not kill by physically attacking their victim. They do not move at all, but instead compel their victims to look upon them by the sheer overwhelming force of their will. This force is great enough that men of strong purpose, even Druids, have admitted that the compulsion completely superseded all rational thought. Those who were prevented from looking up by blindfolds or who were protected by magic reported that the images sent into their minds were as vivid as reality.
Walker Boh wrote of his own near-fatal journey: “My eyes were well covered, but within my mind I could see the great Sphinxes towering over me, wondrous in their terrible beauty—older than time and all powerful. I could feel their burning red gaze boring into me, as if my eyes were open and my spells were for naught. Their voices called out to me, demanding that I pay homage to their glory with an insistence that was almost physical—I who was a mere mortal and unworthy of their presence.”
The power of the compulsion is only a lure for the real power of the Sphinx: its deadly gaze. If a victim glances up at them, even for an instant, he or she is immediately turned to stone. The Druids claim that there are at least a hundred unfortunate statues standing along the path, lured by tales of the treasures that were buried here, only to be frozen in stone, forever paying homage to the glory of the Sphinx.
Beyond the cave, the passageway narrows, twisting and turning back on itself as it winds downwards into the rock. Some sections of the tunnel are natural, while others appear to have been hollowed out with tools. The rough stone walls of this tunnel emit a greenish phosphorescence, possibly caused by bioluminous animals, or by residual magic. The glow is bright enough to allow passage over the smooth floor without torches, though not enough to make out detail. This phenomenon may be a recurring natural effect, and is found throughout the cavern system. The eerie luminescence continues within the corridor for a little over a mile, then abruptly fades at a bend in the passage. At this point, the tunnel walls and ceiling recede into uninterrupted darkness, heralding the next major room in the cavern system, the Corridor of the Winds. Within this chamber, the darkness is so encompassing that the brightest of torches cannot reach either walls or ceiling. All accounts of the room reported that torches are always extinguished soon after entering the vast room by sudden winds that scream out of nowhere, wailing with the voices of lost and tortured souls. In each case, the travelers were left in oppressive darkness. Shea Ohmsford wrote: “As with the Sphinxes’ domain, only the floor was real and certain. But this darkness was all the more terrifying because this time my eyes were wide open and straining, and the winds seemed to tear at me as if they were alive.”
Asphinx
Believed to be the most deadly snake in the world, the Asphinx is not really a snake at all, but a creature from the age of Faerie. It has the body and outward appearance of an asp, but it is more closely related to its cousins, the Sphinxes. Like the asp, it hides, tightly coiled, in small hidden spaces until disturbed, and then it uses its considerable speed to strike at its victim and bury its fangs within the victim’s flesh. Like the Sphinx, its weapon is its ability to turn its victims to stone.
The Sphinx is unaffected by the use of its magic, but the Asphinx can strike only once—the release of venom turns both the snake and its victim to stone. For the snake, the transformation is instantaneous; for the victim, it is a slow and painful process that can take anywhere from a few hours to several days, depending upon the strength of the victim. The horror is compounded by the fact that the Asphinx fuses its body to both the victim and its resting place at the moment of transformation, effectively trapping the victim in place while the poison works. The victim suffers fever and chills, nausea, and extreme pain while watching his or her body slowly change to stone. Mercifully, the victim usually lapses into unconsciousness and then dies long before the entire body transforms.
The poison cannot be countered by most known forms of medicine or magic. Amputation of the affected limb may slow the process and allow the victim to gain freedom, but it will not stop the process. The poison infiltrates the entire body on contact. Druid magic or medicinal compounds also serve only to postpone the inevitable. Walker Boh is the sole person known to have survived the bite of an Asphinx, but only through both amputation and the intervention of a powerful Faerie elemental. The remains of his arm still lie within the Tomb of Kings, locked within the embrace of the Asphinx.
It is believed that the Stone King placed the snake that bit Walker within the hidden recess in an attempt to cover the fact that he had stolen the Black Elfstone originally placed there by the Druids for safekeeping. The priests of the death gods probably used the deadly creatures as guardians in other areas of the hall from which this one was transplanted. Unlike mortal snakes, the Asphinx does not require food or water, and it is content to remain within the area it is set to guard until something disturbs it and triggers its deadly attack.
These winds are the corridor’s namesake, but they are much more than wind—they are the voices of the Banshees, invisible creatures named after the legendary harbingers of death. They cry of damnation and torturous death until those who cannot escape their screams are driven insane. The Banshees’ only weapon is their voices, but the danger is quite deadly, for once driven mad, the victim becomes lost in the darkness and is then easy prey for the many other deadly creatures within the caverns. Some have written that the voices were accompanied by crazed flashes of colored lightning that blinded, but which illuminated nothing. Some have said that the cavern itself rumbled and shivered with the sound as if from a quake.
The Corridor of Winds is not really a corridor at all, but a huge room. Even the Druids do not know its true size. Some suspect that it may even be partially within another dimension—that of the tortured dead themselves. If true, the feeling of being lost in an infinity of darkness may be an accurate representation of reality, and the screams may well be the voices of the dead crying out their agony at feeling the living so close at hand. Others believe that the room is probably of fairly standard size, but that the magic of the Banshees so affects the minds of those within its influence that they cannot perceive anything save what is presented by the magic. In either case, the effect is limited to the area within the corridor.
Beyond the corridor, the winds and the cries fade to silence as the cavern narrows into a smooth passageway approximately forty to fifty feet in diameter. The green phosphorescence seen in the earlier passage is also evident on these walls, though this passage is believed to have been carved out of the rock by the builders of the hall, as it is smooth and shows none of the natural edges and formations of some of the higher areas. This cave is the anteroom to the Tomb of Kings, ending at two huge stone doors, the height of the cave.
These doors are one of the only two sets of actual doors known to exist within the caverns, both of which mark the main burial chamber. The first set marks the entrance to the royal crypt; the other, the passage from the crypt to the final room in the system, the Assembly.
The doors are intricately carved with runes in the same ancient language as those above the cavern’s main entrance. The runes are said to glow as red as fire, as if the magic burns like embers within each line and curve. The red glow is doubtless quite striking against the green of the walls. Iron bindings and hinges support the huge stone slabs. Despite the tremendous weight of the stone, the doors are balanced so perfectly that even after thousands of years, they open at the lightest touch, swinging easily on their hinges. Whether this is accomplished by a lost feat of engineering or by magic, no one is certain. There is no lock upon the doors. Perhaps magic originally warded the doors and that magic has faded, or perhaps the ancient priests believed that no one would be able to pass the earlier obstacles unless they had a right to enter the tomb.
The tomb itself consists of a very large circular chamber with recessed crypts built into its smooth walls, each one sealed by a slab of stone carefully fitted into the opening. At first glance it appears to be more a conference chamber than a tomb, for lifelike statues of dead rulers stand at regal attention around the perimeter of the rotunda, each in front of the crypt that bears his or her remains, each facing the altar at the center of the room as if deeply considering some news or philosophy that only the statues can hear. The favored treasures of their lifetime—jewels, furs, weapons, scrolls, and precious metals—lie piled carelessly at their feet, all partially hidden by a thick coating of dust. But though the treasure appears unprotected, it is quite deadly. The priests coated each item with a poison that is lethal to all living things. The potency was probably enhanced by magic. Even now, the slightest touch will cause any would-be thief or admirer to die within a few minutes.
Behind each statue, the crypts containing the ruler’s remains and those of the ruler’s family and retainers bear inscriptions giving the names and deeds of those within. Above the ruler’s crypt, his or her name is inscribed with the song of deeds below it, listing all the great victories and actions of that ruler, including the manner of death. Scholars believe that the tomb was in use for well over five hundred years. The majority of the inscriptions are written in languages long forgotten, but some are in dialects that are more recent. Most of the rulers depicted have been forgotten outside of this tomb, their names and their nations lost in the long night before the first Druid Council.
A large stone altar carved in the form of a coiled serpent, an asp with fangs bared, dominates the center of the chamber. The altar is believed to be a representation of the God of Death and Judgment in his animal form. To many ancient cultures, the serpent was also a symbol of the divine sovereignty of the ruler. The last of the many funeral rites was carried out on this altar at the time of final interment of the body.
All the earliest recorded descriptions of this room indicate that the ceiling was left in its natural state, containing quartz formations and stalactites. The same green glowing phosphorescence that illuminates the majority of the passageways also illuminated the ceiling within the tomb. A battle during Allanon’s expedition damaged the ceiling, which is now shrouded in darkness. Broken fragments of stone loosened during that battle litter the rotunda floor. The only remaining light now emanates from the upper edge of the walls and the inscriptions on the massive doors at either side of the chamber.
Only a few yards from the altar, a more recent relic stands as a reminder of the hidden dangers of this place. Protruding from a recessed pocket within the floor is what appears to be the stone sculpture of a man’s arm held in the grip of a coiled snake. But this arm, like the unfortunate statues in the Cave of the Sphinxes, was once flesh and blood. It was within this chamber that Walker Boh sought the Black Elfstone, only to find the Asphinx and very nearly his death. He escaped, but his arm remains as a grisly reminder of the price of arrogance.
Valg
Since the dawn of the Four Lands, there have always been legends of dragons. Each of the Races has at least one story of a great serpentlike creature that brought destruction to any who disturbed him. Most people believe these tales were just flights of fancy, but they are in fact remnants of stories about the one the Gnomes called Valg, whose name means “death.” The Druids claim that Valg is older than humanity, having been created in the time of Faerie, before the dawn of the first mortal civilizations. His power is that of the ancient magic, and his loyalty is to unknown masters who long ago abandoned him to his lair beneath the Hall of Kings.
The legends tell of a massive fire-breathing creature with deadly venomous jaws, but those who have seen Valg insist that the legends fall far short of the truth. His exact size is unknown, but he is believed to be at least seventy-five feet in length, with a head large enough to crush a wagon. His body is serpentine, with massive fore and hind limbs armed with razor-sharp hooked claws suitable for disemboweling prey. His large, misshapen head is capable of disgorging sheets of fire that can incinerate a man in seconds. The venom itself will burn any living thing it touches, making a bite from the knife-edged teeth, each the size of a dagger, the least of the dangers of a confrontation with this beast.
Allanon is the only man known to have survived a direct confrontation with Valg, and even then he survived only because of his Druid magic and the aid of the brave warriors with him. It was during his tumultuous battle with the dragon that the Assembly and the tomb were damaged. Valg himself cracked the walls and shattered most of the stalactites with his body. Some believe that the dragon was killed during that battle, but most scholars believe he still lives, as creatures of such powerful magic are almost impossible to kill. To date, no one has been willing to return to the Assembly to find out the truth.
Valg protects the Assembly from trespassers in the Hall of Kings.
Beyond the Assembly the tunnel leads to the only other known exit from the caverns, a doorway that brings one to a cliffside trail called the Dragon’s Crease, which twists and turns its way down past the falls to the Rabb Plains. The trail has been damaged by quakes and rockfalls over the years, so very little of it remains passable.
Before the bodies of royalty could be interred, the spirit had to be freed from the body. This was done within the Assembly on the Pyre of the Dead, which lay beyond the second set of stone doors. The Assembly is the last large room known to exist within the cavern system. When originally discovered, it appeared to have suffered very little from the passage of time. The builders left the majority of the room in its natural state. Allanon wrote during his first visit: “The high ceiling dripped with the long spear shapes of ancient stalactites, formed over thousands of years from water seeping through the layers of sediment above. Rough walls laced with green phosphorescence formed a large hall around a long rectangular pool of glass-smooth water. The pool must have been at least a hundred yards in length. In the dim green glow the mirrored surface of the pool reflected the canopy of stalactites into an infinity of stalagmites that seem to create an enchanted city of spires.”
The reflecting pool is fed by an underground spring, but the actual depth of the water has never been measured. Some of the ancient texts claim that the waters are bottomless and actually connect with the realm of the netherworld as one of the great doorways to the realm of the dead. There is no doubt that the priests who built this hall believed that to be true.
The doors to the tomb open onto a high stone platform, then to a broad alcove overlooking the room. From the alcove, wide steps were carved into the stone, leading down to a tall stone altar set at the head of the long pool. On either side of the pool, narrow stone walkways originally led to the far end of the chamber and the only other known passageway out of the mountain.
The altar, known as the Pyre of the Dead, was built out of slabs of heavy stone. A single word was carved into the surface of the altar: Valg. The word was both the ancient Gnome word for death and the name of the creature who lived within the deceptively calm waters of the pool—a great dragon who was old before the Races were born. It has been said that the Gnomes may have taken their word for death from the legends of the Dragon of Death.
The Hall of Kings is extraordinary not only for the amazing networks of caverns it contains, but for the sheer power and number of ancient creatures it houses. The Banshees, the Sphinxes, and Valg are all believed to be beings created during the time before Man was born—the time when the creatures of Faerie were dominant—with the power of ancient magic inherent in their being. What manner of men must those early priests have been, to have been able to command and control such creatures? Were their death gods so powerful that they were able to grant these priests control over these creatures of the ancient world? Or was it the creatures themselves who were the real gods, and the priests merely their servants? The truth is forever hidden beneath the murky depths of the altar pool.