Hawklan took his arm.
‘I’ll be all right,’ Isloman said. ‘This is the same torment that I felt from the mines, but now I can accept it.’ He turned to the other Orthlundyn who were beginning to look decidedly unhappy. ‘As can you. Trust me. I know you hear only faintly, but you hear enough to sense truth.’
Suddenly the Guild’s First Carver, Isloman opened his great arms as if to embrace the four Orthlundyn, like so many nervous children. Then he bent forward and spoke softly to them. Hawklan and the others, sensing that their presence might be an intrusion, moved away a little, though Hawklan caught occasional words from the highly technical language that the carvers lapsed into when they were discussing their work.
When Isloman had finished, his charges, though still nervous, seemed to be greatly heartened. He looked at Hawklan and smiled reassuringly.
‘That way,’ he said, pointing.
‘I know,’ Hawklan replied. ‘Dim the torches and move quietly.’
‘We will go ahead.’ The voice of the Alphraan made Hawklan start; they had been silent so long.
‘I’ll come with you,’ came Dar-volci’s deep voice in reply and, before anyone could speak, the felci bounded off into the darkness.
‘I’ll stay here with you, dear boy,’ Gavor said com-fortingly to Hawklan.
They walked along the tunnel in silence for a long way. It was relentlessly straight and sloped very gently upwards. After a while, it seemed to Hawklan that the corruption in the air about him hung so thick that it was tangibly burdening his every movement. Andawyr too, seemed to be suffering in some way. The two men encouraged each other forward with an occasional shared glance.
The Orthlundyn also were growing increasingly uneasy, although Isloman’s words seemed to be sustaining them. The Fyordyn, however, were unaf-fected, though they were well aware that their companions were experiencing increasing difficulties which they could not share.
‘Douse your torches, and wait,’ came the voice of the Alphraan abruptly.
After a brief hesitation, Hawklan signalled to the two torchbearers, and once again the group was plunged into the profound darkness that pervaded this under-world.
Slowly, as they waited in silence, a faint glow ap-peared in the distance.
‘Go forward quietly,’ said the Alphraan.
The group did as the voice bid them, moving cau-tiously through the disorienting darkness, and keeping their eyes fixed on the distant glow.
As they neared it, the light gradually began to grow larger and take form. Soon they saw that it marked a sharp bend to the tunnel and that the light was coming from the far side.
The sense of corruption began to throb in Hawk-lan’s head and he laid his hand on his sword.
‘No,’ said the Alphraan softly. ‘Look first… care-fully.’
Reluctantly, Hawklan released the sword and sig-nalled the others to wait. They laid down their packs as he moved silently to the inner wall of the bend and cautiously peered round it.
The tunnel ended a few paces away, apparently joining some large well-lit chamber. At first the light was too bright for him to distinguish anything, but as his eyes adjusted he realized that the floor of the tunnel ended suddenly and that the light was coming from some source above.
Beckoning the others, he moved forward warily towards the end of the tunnel. It opened on to a narrow ledge and he paused and looked quickly from side to side before dropping on to his knees to peer over the edge.
With a sudden sharp breath he withdrew his head and made a hasty signal for silence. Then he motioned Andawyr to look.
As the Cadwanwr leaned forward cautiously, he started slightly, but made no other sign of surprise.
The tunnel had emerged about halfway up a large, roughly circular chamber. It was apparently natural though its walls were packed with numerous other tunnel openings and striped with ledges similar to the one they were lying on. These were joined in some places by steps and in others by precarious wooden ladders lashed together with ropes. Around the chambers, rows of Dan-Tor’s globes shed their ghastly light.
Dominating the scene, however, were the birds. Hundreds of them, perched, silent and still, on the lower ledges and the rocks and boulders that strewed the floor of the chamber. Their yellow eyes were blank and dead, yet somehow watchful.
However, Hawklan scarcely noticed the birds. In-stead his gaze was drawn inexorably to the far end of the chamber.
There, a shapeless, putrid yellow mass welled ob-scenely out of the rock wall. Around it, the rock was blackened and stained, and split by pallid white-edged cracks into irregular blocks, giving it a peculiarly diseased appearance. Fanning out around the mass and burrowing into the surrounding rock was a dense web of fine tendrils, and from its centre hung a single excres-cence like a closed flower bud.
In Hawklan’s eyes, the whole thing seemed to be rending its way into the present reality, just as had Oklar, Creost and Dar-Hastuin. He felt nauseous.
As Hawklan and Andawyr watched, the mass quiv-ered slightly and Hawklan became aware of the cacophonous din that had filled his mind when he had pursued the bird through the Gretmearc. It was like a myriad alien voices full of hatred and venom and it rose to a climax that made him raise his hands to cover his ears, though he knew it would be pointless. Then, abruptly, it stopped, although Hawklan sensed a continuing tremor of disgust and loathing that was coming from some other source. It was the Alphraan, he realized. They too were reacting in some way to the creature and their reaction was so violent that they could not keep it hidden from him.
Slowly the bud began to convulse, and Hawklan saw that it was opening. With each pulse it opened a little further until finally it was spread wide, though the perfection of its shape was somehow disgusting where it should have been beautiful.
At its centre was curled a small brown mass. Sud-denly, and without any other movement, two yellow eyes opened in the mass, and then with a violent wriggle it unwound to reveal itself as one of the birds. Hawklan felt cold as he noted that it bore none of the dishevelled incomprehension of a new-born creature. Indeed, with its wide open eyes it seemed to be foully whole. Then its beak gaped and, emitting a nerve-jarring screech, it flew up on to a nearby rock.
There was a flutter somewhere else in the chamber, and Hawklan knew that one of the birds had left as this had taken up its position with the others.
Andawyr edged away from the ledge and wiped his hand across his damp forehead. He motioned the others back around the bend in the tunnel. They looked at him expectantly, but he shook his head.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ he whispered, his face haunted. ‘I’ll have to think.’
‘We haven’t much time,’ Isloman said. ‘This is a bad place.’
‘I know, I know,’ Andawyr replied crossly.
‘I think I could hit it with an arrow,’ Hawklan said, but Andawyr shook his head.
‘I think those… tendrils… connect it to this world,’ he said. ‘We must cut them to destroy it, but how are we going to reach it with those birds there… ’
‘We will help,’ came the Alphraan’s voice. ‘This is an old enemy and many debts are to be paid here.’
Though the voice was clear and distinct, there was an aura of rage permeating about it that made everyone present quail, though Hawklan detected also great fear.
‘What will you do?’ Andawyr asked hesitantly.
‘Watch and be prepared to strike, when we tell you,’ said the voice without further explanation, although again the words were full of meaning beyond their apparent content; this time they were indisputably commanding. ‘We must join it to know it.’ Then, a caution. ‘Only Hawklan must go. Only he can wield the sword truly. Use it as the Cadwanwr has said: sever the tendrils that hold it to the rock.’
Andawyr gave a resigned nod and motioned the others back to the edge.