At first, there was resistance to these creatures — these lizards, as they were called — but after a time all resistance ceased. The Gnomes were not strong enough or organized enough to fight back, and a few terrifying examples of what would be done to those who failed to submit made a lasting impression on the others. Under the rule of the Mwellrets, the fortress at Graymark was constructed — a massive citadel from which the lizards governed the tribes inhabiting the immediate region. Years passed, and the whole of the Ravenshorn fell under the sway of the Mwellrets. Dwarves to the south and Gnome tribes to the north and west stayed out of those mountains, and the Mwellrets in turn showed no inclination to venture beyond their newly adopted home. With the coming of the Warlock Lord in the Second War of the Races, it was rumored that a bargain had been struck in which the lizards offered a number of their Gnome subjects to serve the Dark Lord — but there was never anyone who could prove it for a fact.
Then with the conclusion of the aborted Third War of the Races — the war in which Shea Ohmsford had gone in search of the mystic Sword of Shannara and the Warlock Lord had been destroyed — the Mwellrets had unexpectedly begun to die out. Age and sickness began to deplete their numbers and only a handful of young were born into the world. As their numbers declined, so did their sway over the Gnome tribes in the Ravenshorn. Bit by bit, their small empire crumbled away until at last it was limited to Graymark and the few tribes that still remained within that region of the world.
«And now it seems that these last few, too, have been driven back into the swamps that bred them,” Foraker concluded his tale. «Whatever their power, it was no match for that of the walkers. Like the Gnomes they ruled, they would become slaves as well, were they to remain within the mountains.»
«Better they had been wiped from the face of the earth!» Slanter interjected bitterly. «They deserve no less!»
«Do they in truth possess the power of the dark magic?» Jair asked.
Foraker shrugged. «I’ve never seen it. The magic is in the shape–changing, I think. Oh, there are stories of the ways in which they affect the elements — wind, air, earth, fire, and water. Maybe there is some truth to that simply because they have developed an understanding of how the elements react to certain things. But for the most part, it is just superstition.»
Slanter muttered something unintelligible and gave Jair a dark look that suggested he wasn’t in complete agreement with the Dwarf.
«You will be safe enough, Ohmsford.» Foraker smiled gravely. The dark brows lifted. «If he were foolish enough to use the magic within these walls, he would be dead quicker than you could blink!»
Ahead, the darkened corridor grew suddenly light, and the four approached an intersecting passageway and a line of doors stretching down to their right. A pair of sentries stood watch before the closest door. Hard eyes turned to oversee their approach. Foraker spoke a quick word in greeting and ordered that the door be opened. The sentries glanced at each other and shrugged.
«Take a light,” the first said, passing Foraker an oil lamp. «The lizard keeps it black as pitch in there all the time.»
Foraker lighted the lamp from the wick of one hanging beside the door, then glanced over at his companions. «Ready,” he told the sentries.
Latch bolts released and a crossbar lifted. With a mournful groan, the ironbound door swung open into total blackness. Foraker started forward wordlessly, the other three a step behind. As the faint circle of the oil lamp penetrated the gloom, the humped and shadowed forms of crates, packing cases, and sack stores came into view. The Dwarf and his companions stopped.
Behind them, the door swung closed with a bang.
Jair glanced about the darkened room apprehensively. A rank and fetid odor permeated the air, a smell that whispered of things dying and fouled. Shadows lay over everything, deep and silent about their little light.
«Stythys?» Foraker spoke the name quietly.
For a long moment, there was no answer. Then from the shadows to their left, from out of a corner of crates and stores, a stirring broke the silence.
«Who iss it?» something hissed.
«Foraker,” the Dwarf answered. «I’ve come to talk. Radhomm sent word to you that I would come.»
«Hss!» The voice rasped like chain being dragged over stone. «Sspeak what you would, Dwarf.»
Something moved within the shadows — something huge and cloaked like death itself. A shape appeared, vague and shadowy, rising up beside the stores. Jair felt a sudden, overwhelming repulsion for what was there. Keep very still, a voice within him warned. Say nothing!
«Little peopless,” the figure murmured coldly. «Dwarf and Elvess and Gnome. Musstn’t be frightened, little peopless. Sstep closser.»
«Step closer yourself,” Foraker snapped impatiently.
«Hss! Don’t like the light. Need darknesss!»
Foraker shrugged. «Then we’ll both stay where we are.»
«Sstay,” the other agreed.
Jair glanced quickly at Slanter. The Gnome’s rough face was twisted in a mask of hatred and disgust, and he was sweating. He looked as if he might bolt at any moment. Edain Elessedil must have seen the look, too, for all at once he moved around Jair and Foraker and placed himself almost protectively on the other side of the distraught Gnome.
«I’m fine!» Slanter muttered almost inaudibly, brushing with his hand at the darkness before him.
Then abruptly the Mwellret came forward to the edge of the light, a tall, cloaked form that seemed to materialize from out of the shadows. Essentially man–shaped, it walked upright on two powerful hind legs, crooked and muscled. Forearms reached out tentatively, and where there should have been skin and hair there was only a covering of toughened gray scales ending in crooked claws. Within its cowl, the Mwellret’s face turned toward them, reptilian snout lifting into the light, scaled and split wide to reveal rows of sharpened teeth and a serpent’s tongue. Nostrils flared at the snout’s blunt end; further up, almost lost within the cowl’s darkness, slitted green eyes glimmered.
«Sstythyss knowss what bringss you, little peopless,” the monster hissed slowly. «Knowss well.»
There was silence. «Graymark,” Foraker said finally.
«Wraithss,” the other whispered. «Sstythyss knowss. Walkerss that desstroy. Come from out of the pitss, from the black hole of the Maelmord. From death! Climbss to Heaven’ss Well to Poisson the waterss of the Ssilver River. Poisson the land. Desstroy it! Comess into Graymark, doess the evil. Comess to drive uss from our homess. Ensslave uss.»
«You saw it happen?» Foraker asked.
«Ssaw it all! Wraithss come from darknesss, drive uss forth and sseize what iss ourss. No match for ssuch power. Flee! Ssome of uss desstroyed!»
Slanter spit suddenly into the darkness, muttering as he shifted back a step and kicked at the stone flooring.
«Sstay!» the Mwellret hissed suddenly, an unmistakable tone of command in its voice. Slanter’s head snapped up. «Gnomess have no need to fear uss. Friendss have we been — not like the Wraithss. Wraithss desstroy all that iss life becausse they are not life. Thingss of death! The dark magic ruless. All the landss will fall to them.»
«But you have a way to destroy them!» Foraker pressed.
«Hss! Graymark belongss to uss! Wraithss tresspasss in our home! Think themsselvess ssafe with uss gone — but wrong. Wayss to get at them there! Wayss they do not know!»
«Passages!» Jair exclaimed suddenly, so intent on what the other was telling them that for an instant he forgot his vow.