The Riftwar Saga Series Books 2 and 3: Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist
someone of larger stature. He pulled the tabard over it and put the helm upon his head. Picking up the sword and shield, he stood before Dolgan. ‘Do I look foolish?’
The dwarf regarded him closely. ‘They are a bit large, but you’ll grow into them, no doubt.’ He thought he saw something in the way the boy stood and held the sword in one hand and the shield in the other. ‘No, Tomas, you do not look foolish. Perhaps not at ease, but not foolish. They are grand, and you will come to wear them as they were meant to be worn, I think.’
Tomas nodded, picked up his cloak, and turned toward the door, putting up his sword. The armor was surprisingly light, much lighter than what he had worn at Crydee. The boy said, ‘I don’t feel like taking anything else, Dolgan. I suppose that sounds strange.’
Dolgan walked over to him. ‘No, boy, for I also wish nothing of the dragon’s riches.’ With a backward glance at the hall, he added, ‘Though there will be nights to come when I will wonder at the wisdom of that. I may return someday, but I doubt it. Now let us find a way home.’ They set off and soon were in tunnels Dolgan knew well, taking them to the surface.
Dolgan gripped Tomas’s arm in silent warning. The boy knew enough not to speak. He also felt the same alarm he had experienced just before the wraith had attacked the day before. But this time it was almost physically felt. The undead creature was near. Putting down the lantern, Tomas shuttered it. His eyes widened in sudden astonishment, for instead of the expected blackness, he saw faintly the figure of the dwarf moving slowly forward. Without thought he said, ‘Dolgan—’
The dwarf turned, and suddenly a black form loomed up at his back. ‘Behind you!’ shouted Tomas.
Dolgan spun to confront the wraith, instinctively bringing up his shield and Tholin’s hammer. The undead creature struck at the dwarf, and only Dolgan’s battle-trained reflexes and dwarven ability to sense movement in the inky darkness saved him, for he took the contact on his iron-bosked shield. The creature howled in rage at the contact with iron. Then Dolgan lashed out with the legendary weapon of his ancestors, and the creature screamed as the hammer struck its form. Blue-green light sprang about the head of the hammer, and the creature retreated, wailing in agony.
‘Stay behind me,’ shouted Dolgan. ‘If iron irritates it, then Tholin’s hammer pains it. I may be able to drive it off.’
Tomas began to obey the dwarf, then found his right hand crossing to pull the golden sword free of the scabbard on his left hip. Suddenly the ill-fitting armor seemed to settle more comfortably around his shoulders, and the shield balanced upon his arm as if he had carried it for years. Without volition of his own, Tomas moved behind Dolgan, then stepped past, bringing the golden sword to the ready.
The creature seemed to hesitate, then moved toward Tomas. Tomas raised his sword, readying to strike. With a sound of utter terror, the wraith turned and fled. Dolgan glanced at Tomas, and something he saw made him hesitate as Tomas seemed to come to an awareness of himself and put up his sword.
Dolgan returned to the lantern and said, ‘Why did you do that, lad?’
Tomas said, ‘I … don’t know.’ Feeling suddenly self-conscious at having disobeyed the dwarf’s instructions, he said, ‘But it worked. The thing left.’
‘Aye, it worked,’ agreed Dolgan, removing the shutter from the lantern. In the light he studied the boy.
Tomas said, ‘I think your ancestor’s hammer was too much for it.’
Dolgan said nothing, but he knew that wasn’t the case. The creature had fled in fear from the sight of Tomas in his armor of white and gold. Then another thought struck the dwarf. ‘Boy, how did you know to warn me the creature was behind me?’
‘I saw it.’
Dolgan turned to look at Tomas with open astonishment. ‘You saw it? How? You had shuttered the lantern.’
‘I don’t know how. I just did.’
Dolgan closed the shutter on the lantern again and stood up. Moving a few feet away, he said, ‘Where am I now, lad?’
Without hesitation Tomas came to stand before him, placing a hand upon his shoulder. ‘Here.’
‘What—?’ said the dwarf.
Tomas touched the helm, then the shield. ‘You said they were special.’
‘Aye, lad. But I didn’t think they were that special.’
‘Should I take them off?’ asked the worried boy.
‘No, no.’ Leaving the lantern upon the floor, Dolgan said, ‘We can move more quickly if I don’t have to worry about what you can and can’t see.’ He forced a note of cheeriness into his voice. ‘And despite there being no two finer warriors in the land, it’s best if we don’t announce our presence with that light. The dragon’s telling of the moredhel being down in our mines gives me no comfort. If one band was brave enough to risk my people’s wrath, there may be others. Yon wraith may be terrified of your golden sword and my ancient hammer, but twenty or so moredhel might not be so easily impressed.’
Tomas could find nothing to say, so they started moving off into the darkness.
Three times they stopped and hid while hurrying groups of goblins and Dark Brothers passed nearby. From their dark vantage point they could see that many of those who passed harbored wounds or were aided by their kinsmen as they limped along. After the last group was gone, Dolgan turned to Tomas and said, ‘Never in history have the goblins and moredhel dared to enter our mines in such numbers. Too much do they fear my people to risk it.’
Tomas said, ‘They look pretty beat up, Dolgan, and they have females and young with them, and carry great bundles, too. They are fleeing something.’
The dwarf nodded. ‘They are all moving from the direction of the northern valley in the Grey Towers, heading toward the Green Heart. Something still drives them south.’
‘The Tsurani?’
Dolgan nodded. ‘My thought also. Come. We had best return to Caldara as quickly as we can.’ They set off and soon were in tunnels Dolgan knew well, taking them to the surface and home.
They were both exhausted when they reached Caldara five days later. The snows in the mountains were heavy, and the going was slow. As they approached the village, they were sighted by guards, and soon the entire village turned out to greet them.
They were taken to the village long hall, and Tomas was given a room. He was so tired that he fell asleep at once, and even the stout dwarf was fatigued. The dwarves agreed to call the village elders together the next day in council and discuss the latest news to reach the valley.
Tomas awoke feeling ravenous. He stretched as he stood up and was surprised to find no stiffness. He had fallen asleep in the golden mail and should have wakened to protesting joints and muscles. Instead he felt rested and well. He opened the door and stepped into a hall. He saw no one until he came to the central room of the long hall. There were several dwarves seated along the great table, with Dolgan at the head. Tomas saw one was Weylin, Dolgan’s son. Dolgan motioned the boy to a chair and introduced him to the company.
The dwarves all greeted Tomas, who made polite responses. Mostly he stared at the great feast of food on the table.
Dolgan laughed and said, ‘Help yourself, laddie; there is little cause for you to be hungry with the board full.’ Tomas heaped a plate with beef, cheese, and bread and took a flagon of ale, though he had little head for it and it was early in the day. He quickly consumed what was on the platter and helped himself to another portion, looking to see if anyone disapproved. Most of the dwarves were involved in a complicated discussion of an unknown nature to Tomas, having to do with the allocation of winter stores to various villages in the area.
Dolgan called a halt to the discussion and said, ‘Now that Tomas is with us, I think we had best speak of these Tsurani.’
Tomas’s ears pricked up at that, and he turned his attention fully