Foraker’s rough hand clapped his shoulder gently, and he hurried after.
The night slipped away, its hours empty and lingering and clouded with dark anticipation. Mist crept down out of the heights on cat’s paws, thickening, shrouding the whole of the locks and dams, and draping Gnome and Dwarf armies alike in veils of damp, clinging haze until even the bright glow of the watchfires disappeared from view.
Jair Ohmsford fell asleep at midnight, still awaiting the return of Garet Jax. Slumped wearily in a high–backed captain’s chair in a watch lounge while Foraker, Slanter, and Edain Elessedil talked in low voices over mugs of hot ale and a single candle lighted against the deepening gloom, he simply drifted off. One minute he was awake, listening in weary detachment to the drone of their voices, eyes closed against the light; in the next, he was sleeping.
It was almost dawn when the Elven Prince shook him awake.
«Jair. He’s back.»
The Valeman brushed the sleep from his eyes and pushed himself upright. Barely visible through the gloom of fading night, the embers of a dying fire glowed softly in the little hearth across the room. Without, the patter of rain sounded on the stonework.
Jair blinked. He’s back. Garet Jax.
He stood up hurriedly. He was fully dressed save for his boots, and he quickly snatched them up and began to pull them on.
«He came in not half an hour ago.» The Elf stood next to him, his voice strangely hushed, as if fearful he might wake someone else within the room. «Helt was with him, of course. They’ve found a path north beyond the tunnels.»
He paused. «But something else has happened, Jair.» The Valeman looked up expectantly. «Sometime after midnight, it began to rain and the mist to dissipate. When the light returned with dawn’s approach, the Gnomes were there, too — all of them. They’d gathered close about the shoreline of the Cillidellan from one end of the high dam to the other, dozens deep, just standing there, waiting.»
Jair was on his feet. «What are they up to?»
Edain Elessedil shook his head. «I don’t know. No one seems to know. But they’ve been out there for hours now. The Dwarves are all awake and on the battlements. Come with me and you can see for yourself.»
They hastened from the watch lounge down the maze of corridors beyond until they had passed through doors leading out into the courtyard that spanned the central section of the high dam. A chill wind blew across the Cillidellan, and the rain stung their faces as they hurried forward. It was still night, the predawn light a distant gray haze beyond the tips of the mountains east. The Dwarf defenders had taken their positions along the ramparts of the dam and fortress, cloaked and hooded against the weather, weapons in hand. The whole of Capaal lay shrouded in silence.
On reaching the fortress that protected the north end of the high dam, Edain took Jair up a series of stone stairs and across a line of battlements to a watchtower high above the complex. The wind seemed to grow stronger here, and the rain beat harder through the gray night.
As they paused before an ironbound oak door leading into the tower, a cluster of Dwarves pushed past them and started down the stairs adjoining. Foremost of these was a fierce–looking Dwarf with flaming red hair and beard, armored in leather and chainmail.
«Radhomm, the Dwarf commander!» Edain whispered to Jair.
Hurriedly, they pushed through the oak door into the tower beyond, shutting the weather behind them as they entered. A faint glow of lamplight barely penetrated the gloom within as a handful of cloaked forms seemed to materialize before them.
«Humph, he’d sleep all the time if you’d let him!» he heard Slanter grumble.
«Well met again, Jair Ohmsford,” a deep voice greeted him, and Helt’s massive hand extended to clasp his own.
Then Garet Jax was there, as black as the night about him, implacable and unchanging as the stone of the mountains. They faced each other, and no words were spoken. Lean face intense, the Weapons Master rested his hands gently on Jair’s shoulders and within the eyes of ice there flickered a strange, unfamiliar warmth. Only for the briefest second was it there; in the next, it was gone. The hands slipped away, and Garet Jax turned back into the gloom.
The door burst open behind them, and a rain–soaked Dwarf hastened over to where Elb Foraker crouched above a pile of maps that rested on a small wooden table. They conversed in low, hushed voices; then as swiftly as he had come, the runner was gone again.
Foraker walked over at once to Jair, the other members of the little company gathering about them. «Ohmsford,” he said quietly, «I’ve just been told that the Mwellret has escaped.»
There was a stunned silence. «How could that happen?» Slanter snapped angrily, his rough face pushing forward into the light.
«A shape–change.» Foraker kept his eyes on Jair. «He used it to fit himself into a small ventilation shaft that circulates air to those lower levels. It happened sometime during the night. No one knows where he might be now.»
Jair went cold. There was no mistaking the Dwarf s intent in telling him this unpleasant piece of news. Even locked within that storage room, the Mwellret had been able to sense the presence of the Elven magic and to force Jair to reveal it. If he were loose…
«This was something he could have done anytime,” Edain Elessedil pointed out. «There must be a reason that he chose to do it now.»
And I could be that reason, Jair acknowledged silently. Foraker realizes it, too. That is why he made it a point to speak first to me.
Garet Jax reappeared from out of the gloom, sudden and purposeful. «We are leaving at once,” he advised. «We have delayed too long already. The quest given us lies north. Whatever is to happen here, we need not be part of it. With the Gnomes gathered about the Cillidellan as they are, it should be easy enough to…»
OOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!
Startled, the members of the little company looked hurriedly about. A monstrous wail assailed their ears, deep and haunting as it shattered the predawn silence. It grew louder, thousands of voices giving it life, rising up against wind and rain into the mountains about Capaal.
«Shades! ”.Slanter cried, his rough yellow face twisting in recognition.
All six broke for the door in a rush, burst through, and in seconds were clustered against the battlements without, rain and wind thrusting at them as they peered north across the choppy waters of the Cillidellan.
OOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!
The wail rose higher, one long, continuous howl that swept through the heights. All about the shoreline of the Cillidellan, the Gnomes joined in the dark chant, voices blended into one as they faced the murky lake, the air filled with the mournful sound.
Radhomm appeared on the battlements below, shouting orders, and runners scurried from his side as he dispatched them to his captains. Everywhere there was a frenzy of activity as the garrison braced for whatever. was to come. Jair’s hand moved to his tunic, searching out and finding the reassuring presence of both the Silver Dust and the vision crystal.
Garet Jax snatched Slanter by his cloak and hauled him close. «What is happening here?»
There was unmistakable fear in the Gnome’s eyes. «A summons — a summons to the dark magic! Once before I saw it — at Graymark!» The Gnome twisted in the iron grip. «But it needs the touch of the walkers, Weapons Master! It needs their touch!»
«Garet!» Foraker pulled the other about roughly, pointing to the near shore of the Cillidellan, not a hundred yards from where. the high dam arced away. The Weapons Master released his grip on Slanter. All eyes turned to where the Dwarf directed.