At last Tor stood at the top of the world. The summit of Cloudseeker Peak offered a magnificent vista on such a clear, cold day. After days of climbing, he and Kondike had mastered the last of the false summits, had moved along a knifelike, rocky ridge, and finally found themselves standing upon the crest of a huge dome of rock. They could see for-maybe for a hundred! — miles in every direction. Not even the eagles flew so high, the young dwarf thought with wonder.
When the mountain began to shake, he wasn’t even afraid. He turned his face skyward and trusted fate, and the mountain, to hold him aloft. The shaking stopped soon enough, in any event, and the minor earthquake did nothing to detract from the thrill of his accomplishment.
He did notice a few places where the ground had shifted and cracked, where some of the loose scree on the summit had actually trickled away, falling inward and down as if draining into some hollow cavity.
Then the dog began to bark frantically, even more urgently than he had when he had chased away the bear. He was circling one of those sinkholes, looking down, his tail wagging with undeniable urgency. The dog looked up at Tor then down into the hole and barked again.
“What is it?” Tor asked. “Do you smell something down there?”
In response, the dog scrambled into the depression. Kondike began to dig, frantically clawing at the rock, barking in agitation. Tor went over and helped him, using his hands to pull away the rocks and digging deeper and deeper toward he knew not what.
An hour later they had opened a hole into a compartment in the mountaintop, revealing a narrow space, and they heard voices! Tor scrambled back, alarmed and excited at the presence of the first people he had seen since departing Pax Tharkas.
He could only gape in astonishment and witness the teary reunion and the joy as Gretchan Pax climbed out of the hole and hugged her dog. Brandon Bluestone came next, and they were followed by two more dwarves he didn’t know. They blinked in astonishment and squinted into the sunlight.
They told Tor Bellowgranite that they were lucky to be alive … and that his mother and father were king and queen in Thorbardin once more.
“Look at lights on water!” Gus declared in awe.
He and his girls had come down to the lake via the East Road since the Urkhan Road had been crowded with so many big dwarves. The East Road was little used, and besides, it went the closest to the part of the shore where Gus intended to go.
The three Aghar stood alone on the shore and stared in wonder at a sight never before imagined. At least, as far as Gus knew, the Urkhan Sea had never looked like that before.
Beams of brilliant sunlight shot downward, penetrating the dome of the mountaintop in three places. The light reflected off the water, dazzling in the waves that were slowly settling back to the usual placid surface. There was a big pillar of rock in the middle of the lake, and Gus was pretty sure that hadn’t been there before either.
He didn’t know about the fire dragon teeth placed by the black wizard, of course, but even to a gully dwarf, the trio of holes seemed nicely spaced, the points of an equilateral triangle having a symmetry all its own. They were like splendid skylights, openings in the mountaintop that allowed light and fresh air into the undermountain kingdom. The three Aghar squealed in delight as they spied a bird, probably the first one ever to come to Thorbardin, swoop down through one of the holes, fly across the lake, then wing its way upward to fly out another one of the new openings.
“This way. We go to fine Agharhome,” he boasted, following his memory as they made their way along the steep, cliff-lined shore. “Plenty good town for gully dwarves,” he said. (Given recent events, he might be forgiven if his memory was a little sketchy on the latter point.)
Finally they reached a familiar spot, where several sewers from the ancient dwarf cities converged to run down toward the lake.
“Come down here,” he told his girls, sliding down the ravine, ducking beneath the low-hanging shelf of a familiar tunnel. Already he could smell it: rotten cave carp, freshly hauled up from the spawning shelf!
Unerringly he made his way back to the Fishbiter house, a doorless hovel along a shelf of rock, one of many doorless hovels where unknown numbers of gully dwarves had tried to eke out an existence over the years.
“Girls wait here,” he whispered conspiratorially as he stood outside the entrance. Reluctantly, they agreed, and so he strode inside.
“Mam!” he cried. “Pap! It’s me, Gus! Me come home!”
“Huh?” Pap said, looking up in irritation from the flat rock that was the only piece of furniture in the Fish-biter house. “This my seat!”
“Gus?” Mam said. “You still alive?”
She looked rather confused.
“And this my carp!” declared his big brothers Ooz and Birt, elbowing each other as they hovered over the decaying scrap of fish. They glowered at Gus, though for some reason they weren’t glowering down at him as much as they used to. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, Gus would have thought that they were glowering up.
In fact, they were.
With an easy cuff, Gus knocked his bullying siblings out of the way and picked up the skeletal remains of the fish.
“Hey, Berta, Slooshy!” he said, calling to the girls who were still waiting out in the sewer trough. “Come here, see! Gus got food!”