Elfhunter (16 page)

Then, rather abruptly, it was over. They could feel
the tremors receding down the mountainside, but outside the cavern
there was dead silence. Slowly they separated, faces pale, hands
trembling. Relieved that none had been hurt, they cautiously felt
their way to the entrance of the cavern. It was now blocked with
boulders, frozen soil, and what appeared to be the broken dead
bough of a spruce tree. These they could feel but could not see, as
they had been plunged into darkness so complete that even the eyes
of the Elves could not pierce it. With growing dread they realized
that they were probably now entombed in the tiny cavern and that
the only way out was down the small, black passage that led into
the mountain.

When daylight came, their suspicions were confirmed.
The mountain snows had indeed slid down upon them in the night,
bringing part of the mountainside with them. They would not be able
to dig their way out until the snows melted in late spring. They
were left now with one choice: they would have to take the passage
and hope that it would not lead them to some dark doom. Only a tiny
bit of grey light managed to filter through the impossible mass of
ice, snow, and rock that now blocked their way.

They groped in the dark for the old torches, blessing
the ones who had cast them aside, as they still had a bit of good
pitch and would give light for a while if only they could be
ignited. Gaelen produced her flint-and-steel, and, stripping some
dry needles off the spruce bough that protruded into the cavern,
she struck a spark to them, tending it carefully until it flared
into flame. Then she touched the pitch to the tiny fire. At first
she was not successful, but tried again twice before the old, dry
pitch gave in and smoldered into life.

They had two torches to light their way, and this was
encouraging, because they could not have risked the journey
otherwise lest they fall into a sudden chasm or get hopelessly
lost, unable to see what lay ahead or behind. But the torches would
not last forever, and they would have perhaps a few hours of light
from each, so they lit only one, trusting that they could light the
other when it failed. Rogond bore the torch, holding it aloft for
Gaelen, who walked ahead, and Nelwyn and Galador, who walked
behind.

All three Elves had weapons at the ready, and Rogond
could tell that they were ill-at-ease. This was not to their liking
at all, and he could not blame them. They had all heard tales of
the dark things that dwelled under the mountains, and the Elves
felt disadvantaged in this unfamiliar environment, though their
keen senses and quick- witted agility would still stand them in
good stead.

They were all thankful that they would not have to
face this peril alone, as four pairs of eyes and ears straining
into the darkness were certainly better than one. The narrow
passage widened out quickly and went fairly straight and smooth for
a while, but then there were a few heart-stopping moments when the
path fell into deep blackness, forcing them to shinny along narrow
ledges and leap over wide gaps in the dark. They went as silently
as they could, every now and then signaled to stop by Gaelen, who
would check for any sign of strange scent before moving on. At such
times Rogond watched her in fascination as she stood with her eyes
closed, tensed and quivering, sampling the air in all directions.
She found nothing amiss for a long while, but traveling with one’s
senses at fever pitch was exhausting even for the Elves.

As the light of their first torch faltered, they took
stock of their situation. They had no idea where they were or where
they were going. They had only a few hours of torch light left, and
all were so tense that a sudden shadow on the wall was likely to
have at least three arrows in it before any of them could draw
their next breath. At least they would not die of thirst—the sound
of water dripping into deep pools and empty caverns was all around
them— and it was a great deal warmer going under the mountain than
over it. Gaelen had detected no sign of fresh air as yet, but there
had been relatively few choices to be made as to which passage to
follow, and always she chose the one that smelled less stale.

They decided that they would find a suitable place to
rest before the light of the first torch went out altogether, and
then they would trust to Gaelen to get the second one going, as she
had gleaned all she could of the wonderful dried spruce needles.
They would rest in darkness, saving the second torch for when they
continued their journey to who-knew-where. They found such a place
just in time— the torchlight gave one last flicker and went out as
they entered a small, round chamber with a pool of very cold, clear
water in the exact center. The water looked wholesome enough. It
seeped from a spring in the floor, and they drank of it gladly, for
they had been rationing their water supply. They filled their water
skins and then rested in the overwhelming darkness, taking comfort
in their companions.

Rogond began to tell a tale in a soft, low voice, and
all the Elves hearkened to him, for it was of the lost realm of
Tuathas. Gaelen and Nelwyn both wept as Rogond described the
cataclysmic upheaval of the Fire-mountain that covered the lands
with ash and choking vapors, taking every life. So few escaped, and
so much that was fair and good was lost. It seemed especially sad
that Rogond, whose forebears had managed to escape that terrible
fate, should tell the tale. "Do you think you will ever know whose
blood is in your veins?" Gaelen asked.

Rogond reached out to Gaelen, who, for all her
bravado, was a sensitive soul, and gently wiped her tears away. "If
it is meant that I should know them, then I will," he replied, his
voice betraying his great longing.

"I’m sorry, Rogond. It was not my place to ask."

At this he smiled in the darkness. "Do you realize
that is the first time you have called me by my name since the
journey began? Not ‘The Aridan’, or ‘Tuathan’, but by name?"

Gaelen was silent for a moment. Then, she replied,
"My apologies, Aridan. I’ll try not to let it happen again."

This was followed by a chuckle from Galador. "Let
that be a lesson to you, Rogond. A proud mare does not give in so
easily."

"True, but they are worth the effort in the end,"
answered Rogond, and to this the Elves had no reply.

The passage they had taken appeared to have been
little-used for some time. Though travelers crossing the pass had
often found and sheltered in the small cavern, Galador doubted that
any had been inclined to explore the dark, narrow way behind it. He
was thankful that no one had thought of blocking it up, as they
would have been in a real fix. But the situation they were
presently in was real enough. They all knew that the mountains were
infested with Ulcas, trolls, and all manner of enemies, though they
had not seen, heard, or smelled any sign. But as they continued,
the paths they took became broader, smoother, and well worn. This
could either be a welcome indication that they might soon find
another way out of the mountain, or it could be a sign that an
unpleasant encounter was becoming more likely.

They crept along in silence in the last of the
torchlight, hoping that Gaelen’s nose was leading them well.
Galador whispered to her as she paused again at an intersection of
two stone passages, eyes wide in the flickering light, a look of
uncertainty on her upturned face. "What is it? What sign do you
read?"

Gaelen knelt down upon the stone floor and examined
it. "Ulcas have passed this way within the past two days," she
replied, wrinkling her nose slightly. "I would guess a dozen or so.
And they had some sort of rotting carcass with them." The idea that
the Ulcas were scavenging rotting meat was of no concern, but the
thought that they had passed by within two days was discomfiting.
Galador and Nelwyn listened down the passageway, hearing no sign of
footfalls.

Rogond suggested that the carcass the Ulcas were
carrying was likely to have come from outside the mountain. If so,
perhaps the Company could back-track the Ulcas, and thus find a way
out. The Elves were not convinced. "We don’t know what sort of
carcass it was, Rogond," said Galador. "It may have been that of a
lost traveler who died alone in the dark, as we are likely to do if
we make the wrong choice now."

Gaelen considered for a moment, and then spoke in
defense of Rogond’s idea. "The Aridan is right. This was not the
body of a traveler. I would know the scent of rotting Elf or
man-flesh, or Ulca for that matter. I think it was most likely an
animal of some sort. That being said, it doesn’t mean they found it
outside. But it is at least a path we can follow, and I see no
merit in any other choice." "What about the merit of a path not
recently traveled by Ulcas?" asked Nelwyn. "Where there are some,
there are bound to be others, and once we are found, well…"

None of them liked to think about it. The Elves still
had a sense of the passage of time and knew that it would be
daylight for many hours yet. If there were a way out, it would be
easier to find while the sun was up, as they would see the faintest
trace of light filtering in. Of course, once back outside, they
would probably have no idea where they were or how to get back on
their course, as the mountain had inconveniently rearranged
itself.

They were not thinking of such things just then; all
they wanted was to emerge from under the mountain and see the
daylight again. The image of what would happen if they encountered
a large, well- armed group in the darkness was more than any of
them wanted to face. Nelwyn was right—where there were any Ulcas
there were bound to be many more. The dead carcass they were
carrying could have come from anywhere, and they might have been
carrying it for some time.

Therefore the Company decided to follow the course
that had not been taken so recently by Ulcas, even though they
could see the logic in Rogond’s suggestion. As it was, they chose
the path less traveled which, unbeknownst to them, led straight
into the heart of the mountain.

The torch light would only last a brief while longer.
They had seen no sign of any diversion, nor any hopeful glint of
daylight. It was too late now to regret their choice, though they
all wondered about it. They would just have to rely on their wits
and trust that fate would not abandon them in the dark.

Rogond walked up behind Gaelen, who had paused as
though she had noticed something interesting. "What is it? Have you
caught something in the air?"

Gaelen turned. "It is not what I smell, but what I
see!" She pointed ahead to a dim, bluish glow that could be clearly
seen, though it was difficult to tell how far away it was. Only
Gaelen had noticed it, because only she was walking in front of the
torch, and thus it did not interfere. This was a beacon of hope,
and Gaelen’s elation was obvious, even in the waning glow of the
torch-light.

"We must be cautious. Though I welcome the light, it
may well mean enemies ahead," said Rogond. This was true, and they
crept toward the light with senses attuned and hands straying
toward weapons as the torch finally flickered and went out. After
what seemed

like ages, they reached an intersection of their own
path with a much broader one, smooth and high-roofed, with regular,
rounded walls.

The source of the light hung from the roof by a chain
of steel. Its purpose was probably to mark the intersection. It was
a blue lamp made of some sort of mineral crystal that captured
light so effectively that it seemed to burn with its own flame.
Looking both ways down the long, straight passage, they saw a faint
blue glow indicating the placement of other lamps.

"I have seen these before," said Galador. "They were
created originally by the Èolar for use in their underground
realms."

"Well, I don’t care who created them…they are
marvelous!" said Gaelen. "I only wish they would help me gain my
bearings. I have a vague sense that we are moving south, but I
cannot vouch for it." Rogond examined the area around the
intersection with wonder. "These tunnels are not of Ulca-making—
they were fashioned by dwarves. A path so well maintained probably
is one of their main thoroughfares and therefore unlikely to be
used by Ulcas, at any rate.

Thralls of Wrothgar do not love the dwarves, who are
fierce fighters and will not abide trespassers into their
domains.

"You mean trespassers like us?" muttered Galador,
whose dislike for dwarves was deep-rooted.

"If the dwarves keep the Ulcas away, I’m happy," said
Rogond. "But I do not know which direction we should take. If even
the Elves are confounded, what chance do we have of finding our
way?"

"I can speak only for myself," said Gaelen, "but my
sense of placement becomes muddled when I can see neither sun, nor
stars, nor tree, nor glint of daylight. We are unlikely to be of
much help down here, unless Galador has some extra sense of which I
am unaware."

"First Ulcas, and now dwarves?" said Nelwyn, who was
not comfortable with either. On very rare occasion she had met a
few dwarves passing through the forest on their way eastward, where
it was said they prospected for rare metals. Ri-Aruin sometimes
exacted tribute from them in return for safe passage between his
borders, and his treasury was thus begrudgingly enhanced. But the
King provided them with food, drink, and protection and guidance to
the borders of the forest. By the time they had crossed far enough
in

to encounter the Elves, most would have given nearly
any of their belongings to escape the dark, dangerous woods, which
were in no way to their liking.

Gaelen and Nelwyn had twice been assigned the
wearisome task of conducting lost dwarves to the eastern border.
The Elves viewed them as noisy malcontents. Gaelen in particular
grew weary of their constant grumbling, and Nelwyn was appalled at
their habit of cutting down beautiful, healthy young saplings for
the sole purpose of procuring straight shafts for the making of
arrows. They had scoffed at her when she suggested that they might
glean seasoned branches from trees that had died and fallen.