The Riftwar Saga Series Books 2 and 3: Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist
moredhel – the Dark Brothers you call them – or a more than usually stupid tribe of goblins troubles us for a time. But for the most part things remain pretty peaceful.
‘But of late, everything’s gone agley. About a month ago, or a bit more, we began to see signs of large movements of moredhel and goblins from their villages to the north of ours. We sent some lads to investigate. They found entire villages abandoned, both goblin and moredhel. Some were sacked, but others stood empty without sign of trouble.
‘Needless to say, the displacement of those miscreants caused an increase in problems for us. Our villages are in the higher meadows and plateaus, so they dare not attack, but they do raid our herds in the lower valleys as they pass – which is why we now mount patrols down the mountainside. With the winter upon us, our herds are in our lowest meadows, and we must keep vigilant.
‘Most likely your messengers didn’t reach our villages because of the large number of moredhel and goblins fleeing the mountains down into the forests. Now at least we’ve some gleaning of what’s causing this migration.’
The Duke nodded. ‘The Tsurani.’
Dolgan was thoughtful for a moment, while Arutha said, ‘Then they’re up there in strength.’
Borric gave his son a questioning look, while Dolgan chuckled and said, ‘That’s a bright lad you’ve got, Lord Borric.’ He nodded thoughtfully, then said, ‘Aye, Prince. They’re up there, and in strength. Despite their other grievous faults, the moredhel are not without skill in war-craft.’ He fell silent again, lost in thought for a few minutes. Then, tapping out the dottle of his pipe, he said, ‘The dwarven folk are not counted the finest warriors in the West for naught, but we lack the numbers to dispose of our more troublesome neighbors. To dislodge such a host as have been passing would require a great force of men, well armed and provisioned.’
Kulgan said, ‘I would give anything to know how they reached these mountains.’
‘I would rather know how many there are,’ said the Duke.
Dolgan refilled his pipe and, after it was lit, stared thoughtfully into the fire. Weylin and Udell nodded at each other, and Weylin said, ‘Lord Borric, there may be as many as five thousand.’
Before the startled Duke could respond, Dolgan came out of his reverie. Swearing an oath, he said, ‘Closer to ten thousand!’ He turned to look at the Duke, whose expression showed he clearly didn’t understand what was being said. Dolgan added, ‘We’ve given every reason for this migration save invasion. Plague, internal warfare between bands, pests in their crops causing famine, but an invading army of aliens was not one of them.
‘From the number of towns empty, we guess a few thousand goblins and moredhel have descended into the Green Heart. Some of those villages are a clutch of huts my two boys could overcome unaided. But others are walled hill forts, with a hundred, two hundred warriors to man the palisade. They’ve swept away a dozen such in little over a month. How many men do you judge you’d need to accomplish such a deed, Lord Borric?’
For the first time in his memory, Pug saw fear clearly etched upon the Duke’s face. Borric leaned forward, his arm resting across his knee, as he said, ‘I’ve fifteen hundred men in Crydee, counting those in the frontier garrisons along the boundary. I can call another eight hundred or a thousand each from the garrisons at Carse and Tulan, though to do so would strip them fully. The levies from the villages and towns number at best a thousand, and most would be old veterans from the siege at Carse or young boys without skills.’
Arutha looked as grim as his father as he said, ‘Forty-five hundred at the outside, a full third unproved, against an army of ten thousand.’
Udell looked at his father, then at Lord Borric. ‘My father makes no boast of our skills, nor of the moredhel’s. Your Grace. Whether there be five thousand or ten thousand, they’ll be hard, experienced fighters to drive out the enemies of our blood so quickly.’
‘Then I’m thinking,’ said Dolgan, ‘you’d best send word to your older son and your vassal barons, telling them to stay safely behind the walls of your castles, and hie yourself to Krondor. It will take all the Armies of the West to withstand these newcomers this spring.’
Tomas suddenly said, ‘Is it really that bad?’ then looked embarrassed for interrupting the council. ‘I’m sorry, my lord.’
Borric waved away the apology. ‘It may be we are weaving many threads of fear together into a larger tapestry than exists, but a good soldier prepares for the worst, Tomas. Dolgan is right. I must enlist the Prince’s aid.’ He looked at Dolgan. ‘But to call the Armies of the West to arms, I must reach Krondor.’
Dolgan said, ‘The South Pass is closed, and your human ships’ masters have too much sense to brave the Straits of Darkness in winter. But there is another way, though it is a difficult path. There are mines throughout these mountains, ancient tunnels under the Grey Towers. Many were carved by my people as we dug for iron and gold. Some are natural, fashioned when the mountains were born. And still others were here when my people first came to these mountains, dug by only the gods know whom. There is one mine that passes completely under the mountains, coming out on the other side of the range, only a day’s march from the road to Bordon. It will take two days to pass through, and there may be dangers.’
The dwarven brothers looked at their father, and Weylin said, ‘Father, the Mac Mordain Cadal?’
Dolgan nodded his head. ‘Aye, the abandoned mine of my grandfather, and his father before him.’ He said to the Duke, ‘We have dug many miles of tunnels under the mountain, and some connect with the ancient passages I have spoken of. There are dark and queer tales about Mac Mordain Cadal, for it is connected with these old passages. Not a few dwarves have ventured deep into the old mines, seeking legendary riches, and most have returned. But a few have vanished. Once upon a path, a dwarf can never lose his way back, so they were not lost in their searching. Something must have befallen them. I tell you this so there will be no misunderstandings, but if we keep to the passages dug by my ancestors, we should have small risk.’
‘“We,” friend dwarf?’ said the Duke.
Dolgan grinned. ‘Should I simply place your feet upon the path, you’d be hopelessly lost within an hour. No, I’d care not for traveling to Rillanon to explain to your King how I’d managed to lose one of his better Dukes. I will guide you willingly, Lord Borric, for a small price.’ He winked at Pug and Tomas as he spoke the last. ‘Say, a pouch of tabac and a fine dinner at Crydee.’
The Duke’s mood lightened a little. With a smile he said, ‘Done, and our thanks, Dolgan.’
The dwarf turned to his sons. ‘Udell, you take half the company and one of the mules, and the Duke’s men too ill or wounded to continue. Make for the castle at Crydee. There’s an ink horn and quill, wrapped in parchment, somewhere in our baggage; find it for his lordship, so he may instruct his men. Weylin, take the others of our kin back to Caldara, then send word to the other villages before the winter blizzards strike. Come spring, the dwarves of the Grey Towers go to war.’
Dolgan looked at Borric. ‘No one has ever conquered our highland villages, not in the longest memory of the dwarven folk. But it would prove an irritation for someone to try. The dwarves will stand with the Kingdom, Your Lordship. You have long been a friend to us, trading fairly and giving aid when asked. And we have never run from battle when we were called.’
Arutha said, ‘And what of Stone Mountain?’
Dolgan laughed. ‘I thank His Highness for the jog to my memory. Old Harthorn and his clans would be sorely troubled should a good fight come and they were not invited. I’ll send runners to Stone Mountain as well.’
Pug and Tomas watched while the Duke wrote messages to Lyam and Fannon, then full stomachs and fatigue began to lull them, despite their long sleep. The dwarves gave them the loan of heavy cloaks, which they wrapped about pine boughs to make comfortable mattresses. Occasionally Pug would turn in the night, coming out of his deep sleep, and hear voices speaking low. More than once he heard the name