«Where do the stairs lead?»
«Down. Into Capaal.» He shook his head. «Have to hope the others will find some different way to get there.»
He helped Edain to his feet, pulling the Elf’s good arm over his shoulder. Then he snatched the torch from its rack.
«Hold tight, now.»
Slowly, they began their descent.
The Borderman Helt tumbled headlong down the steep slide, weapons flying from him as he fell, the maddened struggle on the cliff ledge left behind. Lights and sound whirled about him as he went, a jumble that spun and faded in his mind. Then came a jarring halt, and he found himself wedged within a mass of brush at the slide’s bottom, sprawled in a tangle of arms and legs. He lay dazed for a minute, the breath knocked from his body. Gingerly he tried to extricate himself from the tangle. It was then that he realized that not all of the arms and legs were his own.
«Easy!» a voice hissed in his ear. «Half broke me in two already!»
The Borderman started. «Slanter?»
«Keep it down!» the other snapped. «They’re all around us!»
Helt lifted his head carefully and blinked his eyes against the dizziness. Torchlight flickered close by, and there were voices calling back and forth through the darkness. He realized suddenly that he lay on top of the little Gnome. With great care, he lifted himself clear of the other, coming unsteadily to his knees within the shadow of the brush.
«Took me right off the ledge with you!» Slanter muttered, disbelief and anger mingling in his voice. The gnarled body straightened, and he peered carefully about through the scrub; the distant firelight reflected in his eyes. «Oh, shades!» he groaned.
Helt came to a low crouch, staring out into the dark. Behind them, the slide down which they had fallen loomed like a wall against the night. Before them, spread out for hundreds of yards in all directions in a mass of blazing yellow light, were the watchfires of the Gnome army that encircled the fortress of Capaal. Helt studied the fires wordlessly for a moment, then dropped back into the brush, Slanter beside him.
«We’re right in the middle of the siege camp,” he said quietly.
Already there were torches lining the ledge from which they had fallen, far distant yet unmistakable in their purpose. The Gnomes on the ledge were coming down after them.
«We can’t stay here.» Helt came to his feet once more, eyes peering out through the brush at the Gnome Hunters about them.
«Well, where do you suggest we go, Borderman?» Slanter snapped.
Helt shook his head slowly. «Perhaps along the slide…»
«The slide? Perhaps we can fly while we’re at it!» Slanter shook his head. The Gnome Hunters were calling down into the camp from the ledge. «No way out of this one,” he muttered bitterly. He cast about futilely for a moment, then paused. «Unless, of course, you happen to be a Gnome.»
His rough yellow face swung about to find Helt. The Borderman stared back at him wordlessly, waiting. «Or perhaps one of the walkers,” he added.
Helt shook his head slowly. «What are you talking about?»
Slanter bent close. «Must be mad even to consider this, but I guess it’s no madder than anything else that’s happened. You and me, Borderman. Black walker and Gnome servant. Pull that cloak about you, hood about your head, no one’ll know. You’re big enough for it. Walk right through them, you and me — right up to the gates of that fortress. Hope to all that’s good and right that the Dwarves open up long enough for us to slip in.»
Shouts rose from off to their left. Helt glanced over quickly, then back again. «You could do all this without me, Slanter. You could get out on your own a lot easier than if I’m with you.»
«Don’t tempt me!» the Gnome snapped.
The gentle eyes were steady. «They’re your people. You could still go back to them.»
Slanter seemed to think it over for a moment. Then he shook his head roughly. «Forget it. I’d have that black devil Weapons Master tracking me all through the Four Lands. I’m not risking that.» The hard yellow face seemed to stiffen further. «And there’s the boy…»
His eyes snapped up. «Well, do we try it or not, Borderman?»
Helt rose, pulling his cloak close about him. «We try it.»
They strode clear of the brush, Slanter with his cloak thrown wide so that all could see it was a Gnome who led the way, Helt with his drawn close, a massive, hooded giant towering above the other. They passed boldly down through the spokes of the siege lines toward where the army massed before the fortress walls, staying carefully within the darkness between those lines so that they could not be clearly seen. They walked for nearly fifty yards, and no one gave challenge.
Then a cross line blocked their way forward, and there was no longer any darkness left through which to pass. Slanter never hesitated. He stalked toward the watchfires, the cloaked figure following. The Gnome Hunters who were gathered there turned to gape, weapons lifting guardedly.
«Stand back!» Slanter called out sharply. «The Master comes!»
Eyes widened and fear reflected in the harsh yellow faces. Weapons lowered quickly, and all stood aside as the two figures passed, slipping into a square of half–light between the lines. Gnomes were all about them now, heads turning, eyes staring in surprise and curiosity. Still no one challenged, the tumult of the search on the slope drowning out everything else in the autumn night.
Another siege line lay ahead. Slanter lifted his arms dramatically to the Gnome Hunters who turned. «Give way to the Master, Gnomes!»
Again the lines parted to let them through. Sweat was pouring down Slanter’s rough face as he glanced back at the shadowed figure behind him. Hundreds of eyes followed after them, and there was a faint stirring within the ranks of the Gnomes. A few were beginning to question what was happening.
The last of. the forward lines of the siege lay before them. Here the Gnome Hunters again brought up their short spears menacingly, and there were disgruntled mutterings. Beyond the watchfires the dark walls of the Dwarf citadel rose up against the night and on their battlements, torches burned in solitary patches of hazy light.
«Stand away!» Slanter bellowed, again throwing up his arms. «Dark magic runs loose this night and the walls of the enemy keep shall crumble before it! Stand away! Let the walker pass!»
As if to emphasize the warning, the cloaked figure following lifted one arm slowly and pointed toward the watch.
That was enough for the Gnomes on the siege lines. Breaking ranks, they parted hurriedly, most of them scurrying back toward the second line of defense, casting anxious glances over their shoulders as they went. A few lingered, frowns on their faces as the two figures passed, but still no one stepped forward to offer challenge.
The Gnome and the Borderman walked into the night, eyes riveted now on the dark walls ahead. Slanter raised his hands high above his head as they approached, praying inwardly that this simple gesture would be enough to stay the deadly missiles surely pointed in their direction.
They were two dozen yards from the walls when a voice rang out. «Come no further, Gnome!»
Slanter drew to an immediate halt, arms lowering. «Open the gates!» he cried furtively. «We’re friends!»
There was a low muttering on the walls, and a call down to someone below. But the gates remained closed. Slanter glanced about frantically. Behind where he and Helt stood watching, the Gnomes were stirring once more.
«Who are you?» the voice from atop the wall called out again.
«Open the gates, you fool!» Slanter’s patience was gone.
Now Helt came forward to stand beside the Gnome. «Callahorn!» he called out in a hoarse whisper.