Valorian (8 page)

"Come on, boy," Valorian said softly. "Let's try this again."

Step by step they walked forward along the path, the shelter moving with them like a faintly glowing shield. The gorthlings surrounded them on both sides of the trail and followed their every step.

The creatures attacked the shelter in a frenzy of rage, but their attempts to break it with their fists and hurled stones were useless.

The man studied his attackers as he led Hunnul along the trail. The gorthlings were small, vicious, evil, and had dominion over the souls that entered Gormoth. But unlike the Harbingers, they hadn't yet shown any power of their own to wield magic. Valorian thanked the gods for that blessing. Despite his luck with his spells thus far, he realized he was barely tapping the surface of the vast reservoirs of magic.

He would be in serious trouble if he had to face an opponent who was skil ed in using the power.

He was also beginning to notice that wielding magic could be tiring. He and Hunnul were only halfway along the treacherous trail through the cavern, and already he was feeling the effort of maintaining the shelter. It took more concentration and mental wil power than he expected.

To help conserve his strength, he banished the sphere of light and struggled along the trail, leading Hunnul by the flickering glow of the lava river. Ahead, at the opposite end of the cavern, he could see where the trail entered the rock wall once more. Valorian focused on that black hole while he struggled to hold his shelter intact. As his strength slowly drained away, the tent of energy started to fade.

Twenty paces from the tunnel entrance, the trail began to widen. Valorian hauled himself onto Hunnul's back. He was so weary he knew he would have to stop using his shield.

The gorthlings realized it, too, and increased their efforts to break through.

At ten paces from the tunnel, Valorian made his move. In one motion, he clamped his legs against Hunnul's sides, dissolved the magic shield, and bent low over the stal ion's neck. Hunnul responded as he had been trained to do. In a violent lunge forward, he burst through the crowd of gorthlings on the trail and plunged into the darkness of the tunnel entrance at a full gallop, leaving the angry creatures behind.

Valorian immediately renewed his sphere of light—it didn't use as much strength or concentration to maintain and urged on his horse. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the gorthlings. He knew with a sinking certainty that he didn't have the strength at that moment to put up another shield or fend off another attack.

The tunnel was straighter now and stil sloping downhil . Valorian wondered how far they had traveled into the mountain and how long they had been there. Surely this trail came to an end somewhere. So far he had seen no other paths, other souls, or any sign of Amara's crown. There seemed to be only the gorthlings and the featureless tunnel winding endlessly through the mountain.

After a short while, the clansman felt his stal ion's pace begin to slow. He eased Hunnul to a halt, and together they listened in the darkness. The tunnel was silent.

Nevertheless, Hunnul pricked his ears and shifted his feet nervously. Ever alert to his horse's cues, Valorian sharpened his own senses until he, too, was aware of a strange stirring in the tunnel. The cold, fetid draft that had blown into his face most of the way was gone; the air was almost still. Only a faint stir in the heavy, damp atmosphere signaled that something was changing. Valorian reached out curiously and touched the rock wall. To his surprise, he could feel a slight vibration in the stone.

Then he felt another movement. A tiny arm was reaching out of a crevice in the wall for the hilt of his dagger in his belt. As quick as a snake, Valorian grabbed the arm and yanked hard. A struggling gorthling emerged from the crack. At first it fought to get away, but then it changed tactics and clung to his left wrist and hand like a burr. It hissed at him, its sharp, pointed ears flattened against its skull.

Hunnul pranced forward nervously.

Valorian tried to flip the gorthling off, but it held on with a painful grip. He was about to smash it against the wal when he saw more gorthlings behind them. The pursuers had caught up with them faster than he had expected.

Still holding the gorthling in his left hand, Valorian raised his right hand and fired a bolt of energy at the pack to slow them down. He felt the magic suddenly erupt through him, and to his complete amazement, a fiery burst of brilliant blue, hotter and stronger than anything he had formed before, sizzled through the tunnel air and exploded in the crowded mob of gorthlings. They fled, screaming, into the blackness.

Valorian didn't waste time wondering how he had found such strength or trying to pry off the gorthling. He clamped his fingers around its neck and sent Hunnul into a canter before the other creatures could regroup. While the stallion moved forward at a fast pace, Valorian used his free hand to slide his gold armband down to his wrist.

The gorthling saw the gold coming and shrieked. It struggled to escape as the clansman's fingers held it in a merciless grip and forced the golden ring over its small head.

Valorian had suspected that gold had some power over the gorthlings, and he was right. As soon as the armband settled down around the creature's neck like a collar, the gorthling stilled and hung limply in the man's hand.

Valorian gave it a gentle shake. "Can you talk?" he demanded.

"Yesss," it hissed sul enly.

"Where is Amara's crown?"

The gorthling laughed a sharp, wicked sound. "So! She sent you! What a choice. You worm-spined, offal-tongued son of a cave rat!" Its ugly face twisted into a sneer. "Follow this path and you will find it."

The clansman tried another question. "Are there other tunnels into Gormoth?"

Again the gorthling laughed and spat at him. "Of course, stupid mortal. There are lots of ways to get in, but you'll never get out!"

Valorian's mouth tightened. The little brute was only tel ing him things he had already guessed.

However, during their talk, he had noticed that his sphere was burning much brighter and his strength had returned in ful measure. As an experiment, he set the gorthling on the pommel of his saddle.

"Stay there," he ordered and let go of its neck. Two interesting things happened. First, the gorthling obeyed him, and second, the light dimmed to its previous intensity. Once again Valorian picked up the creature; the sphere brightened.

"Gorthlings have no power of their own to wield magic, do they?" he stated in dawning comprehension.

"Ooooh! The bonehead catches on quick!"

Valorian ignored the gorthling's insulting words. He was too busy trying to understand the puzzles and possibilities of his captive. "Why not?" he demanded. "The Harbingers can wield magic."

The gorthling hissed at the mention of the Harbingers. "Those goodie--boys," it said with a sneer.

"Oh, yes! Lord Sorh favors them. He gives them magic; he gives them nags; he lets them go anywhere.

But us? His guardians of lost souls? His faithful servants? He says we have no need of magic power. All we get is this prison hole with its fire and winds!"

The clansman pursed his lips, worried. He had seen the fire in the lava river, but where was the wind? "What wind?" he wanted to know.

Abruptly the gorthling burst into laughter that sounded like the howls of a demented child to Valorian. It made the man's skin crawl. "You'll see. It's where all mortals go when they enter Gormoth.

Listen and you can hear it now!"

The clansman slowed the stal ion to a jog and listened to the darkness. The creature was right. The changes they had noticed earlier had become more apparent. The draft at their backs was growing into a full breeze, the vibration was increasing to a trembling that shook the wal s and floor, and both Hunnul and Valorian could hear a distant steady roaring that seemed to originate from somewhere ahead. The gorthling twisted his expression into a rude smile.

Valorian's apprehension rose in a cold wave, and he asked harshly, "What is that?"

"The wind," the creature cackled.

Valorian wanted to squeeze the gorthling to pulp, but he didn't think that would help much.

Instead, he asked, "Al right, then tell me this--what power does my gold band have over you?"

The gorthling snarled and hissed before it finally answered, "As long as you force me to wear this nasty stuff, I must obey you."

"Why?"

"Gold is the metal of the gods," the creature replied fiercely. "Gorthlings must always bow to the sacred gold of the deities. Mortals aren't supposed to bring it into Gormoth or wield magic. That's not fair!" it said sulkily.

"Why do you increase my power when you are in contact with me?" the clansman prodded.

"I'm immortal, idiot. Immortals have that effect on mortal filth like you. Not that it wil do you much good," the gorthling chuckled with malice. "There is no escape, and you can't control us all. We'll have your soul dumped in the pit before you can spit."

The clansman made no further comment. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around the gorthling's neck and stared thoughtful y ahead into the black tunnel while Hunnul jogged down the slope, deeper and deeper into the roots of the vast mountain. Gradually the roaring noise increased, the wind blew harder until it pulled at Hunnul's mane and tail, and the walls began to shake from the force of some monstrous, unknown power.

The closer they drew to the unknown source of the noise, the more sounds they could discern in the thundering roar. There was gorthling laughter and human sounds, too shrieks and cries and a wailing that never seemed to stop. Valorian felt his soul grow cold. There were no tales in the mortal world that accurately described the innermost secrets of Gormoth. What happened within its dark heart was known only to its tormented prisoners, the gorthlings, and the gods.

Sooner than he wanted, Valorian saw the end of the tunnel. A strange, hot, wavering light gleamed through an arched doorway not far ahead. The deep-throated roaring was now painfully loud. The gorthling snickered.

Hunnul slowed to a hesitating walk, stepped cautiously through the archway, and stopped dead in his tracks. They had entered a tremendous circular cave as large as any mountain in the mortal world.

Appalled, Valorian rose in his stirrups and looked down where the trail stopped in a sheer drop-off into a chasm whose bottom was lost in the unfathomable depths of Ealgoden. But it wasn't the frightening bottomless chasm, the immense size of the cavern, or the disappearance of the trail that transfixed the man; it was what roared in the center of that vast space.

Valorian stared in awe. He had never imagined anything so horrendous. Down below him, in the middle of the great cavern, hung a monstrous, thundering tornado of wind and fire. In the lurid light of its massive form, he could see where the molten rock of the lava river flowed out of an opening in the rock wall below and was sucked and swirled into the tremendous vortex, forming a maelstrom of searing heat and flailing winds that remained fixed in place over a pit of darkness beyond imagination.

Worst of all were the souls Valorian could see trapped in the spinning maw of the giant funnel.

There were countless numbers of them, indistinguishable in the fire and violent winds, and they all cried in hopelessness and agony from their prison in a ceaseless, eternal lament that tore at Valorian's heart.

"There's the wind, bonehead. Welcome home!" sneered the gorthling. When the man did not reply, it bobbed its head and went on with glee. "Lord Sorh put that there for our prisoners. Once you're in it, we will never let you go."

The man ignored it with an effort. Gritting his teeth, he forced .his eyes away from the whirlwind.

Instead, he looked up toward the ceiling of the cavern, which was lit by a pale golden glow, and saw something else that made him lean forward with relief. There was the object of his quest at last.

The roof of the vast space was festooned with stalactites of every length and diameter in a startling variety of colors. In the exact center of the ceiling was the largest stalactite: a huge, long spear of stone that hung over the whirlwind like a weapon ready to drop, and there, jammed tightly onto the tip, was a circular object that glowed with a radiance all its own. The clansman didn't need to ask the gorthling if that object was Amara's crown--he knew it was. In the hel ish winds and burning fires, the crown shimmered with a pure beauty that did not belong in this evil place.

Now al he had to do was think of a way to reach it.

There was certainly no immediate solution. There were no trails in the cave, no ledges or handholds on the smooth, sheer wal s, and no bridges. There were what looked like three other tunnel entrances exactly like the one he and Hunnul were standing by, but they were spaced out along the wal s of the cavern at equal distances and may as well have been in another world. Valorian shook his head, his hopes almost dead. There was no way to go . . . and almost no more time.

Gorthlings were gathering in the tunnel behind them again, and Valorian could see other gorthlings creeping along the walls of the cavern toward his position.

The creature in his hand cackled. "Save us some effort, nag rider. Jump! We'll go easier on you."

Valorian glanced down at his prisoner, then back to the stalactite and the whirlwind. He studied the black hole far away on the opposite wall for a moment, and a vague plan began to form in his mind.

"Quickly," he snapped, giving the gorthling a shake. "What are those other openings?"

"Other tunnels, dung-breath. I told you there were lots of ways to get into Gormoth. You just can't get out!" The gorthling howled in glee.

Four entrances? So there were other ways to get out—if he could reach one. Valorian's hopes rose a little as he silently worked out his plan. It would be tricky at best. He would need every shred of power the gorthling could give him, a huge share of luck, and the help of one black stallion. If he failed, he and Hunnul would fal into the whirlwind, and there would be no escape from that.