“Hederick is enough to try even a god’s patience,” Elistan said dryly. “I’m sure Mishakal must have been tempted to do just that. What mischief is he causing now?”
“He’s going among the people saying that Riverwind has led us to our deaths. Riverwind caused the rockslide, and now we cannot return to the caves. We are trapped in this pass, where we will die of cold and hunger.”
“What else?” Riverwind asked, for Goldmoon had hesitated. “Tell me the worst.”
“Hederick is advocating that we should surrender, give ourselves up to Verminaard.”
“Hederick was the one who led the dragons to us!” Riverwind said angrily. “I was forced to start the rock slide because he put us in danger! I should have left him to his fate!”
“Are the people listening to him?” Elistan asked, his expression grave.
“I’m afraid so, Revered Son.” Goldmoon rested her hand on her husband’s arm in sympathy. “It is not your fault. The people know that, but they are cold, tired, and weighed down by the dragonfear. They can’t go back to the caves, and they are terrified of going forward.”
“They know what Verminaard will do to them! He’ll send them back to the mines.”
“I very much doubt it,” said Elistan. “He came to the caves with the intention of killing, not capturing.”
“The people won’t believe that. A man lost and wandering in the wilderness sees even a prison cell as a refuge,” Goldmoon said. “You must talk to them, husband. Reassure them. Nighthawk told me that the scouts may have found the gate—”
“For all the good it will do us,” Riverwind muttered. “There is a draconian army between us and the gate, and we’re not even sure this hole in the mountain is the gate. It might just be a hole in the mountain. If it is the gate, there may be a dwarven army massed inside waiting to slaughter us!”
Riverwind sat down dejectedly on a boulder. His shoulders slumped. “Tanis chose the wrong man. I do not know what to do.”
“At least you know what not to do,” said Goldmoon spiritedly. “Don’t pay attention to Hederick!”
Riverwind smiled at this and even gave a low chuckle, though his laughter faded away. He put his arm around Goldmoon and drew her close.
“What do you advise me to do, wife?”
“Tell the people the truth.” She put her hands on his face, looked lovingly into his eyes. “Be honest with them. That’s all they ask. We will give our prayers to the gods, ask them to help us through the long night. The dawn brings a new day and fresh hope.”
Riverwind kissed her. “You are my joy and my salvation. The gods know what I would do without you.”
“And there is a small blessing,” said Goldmoon, nestling in her husband’s arms. “The dragons know we are here. There is no longer any need to hide from them. We can light fires for warmth.”
“Indeed, we can,” said Riverwind. “We will light the fires not only for warmth but for defiance, and instead of begging the gods to save us, we will offer them our grateful thanks for our deliverance. We will not even think of surrendering!”
The refugees lit the fires in defiance of the dragons, and when the fires were burning brightly, bringing warmth and cheer, the people sent their prayers to the gods in thanksgiving. The dragonfear seemed to melt and spirits lifted. Everyone spoke hopefully of the dawn of a new tomorrow.
Hederick saw that he had lost his audience, and he ceased talking of surrender and gave his prayers of thanks piously with the rest. He had no faith at all in these new gods, though he pretended he did because it was politically expedient. He had unbounded faith in himself, however, and he truly believed that if they surrendered to Verminaard, as he advocated, he could worm his way into the Highlord’s good graces. To give Hederick credit, he did not believe they had any chance at all of escape. He was convinced that Riverwind was an ignorant brute who would rather see them all perish than bow to his enemy.
Hederick was not dismayed. As a politician, he knew the masses were fickle. All he had to do was bide his time, and they would come around to his point of view. He went to sleep that night thinking complacently of tomorrow when Riverwind, Elistan and their cohorts must finally admit defeat.
The next day dawned and brought change. Unfortunately the change was not for the good. The dragons flew nearer, the dragonfear was stronger, the air was colder, and the day bleaker. Hederick walked up to Riverwind and spoke loudly, so that as many as possible could hear him.
“What will you do now, Chieftain? Our people are starting to sicken, and soon they will begin to die. You know as well as I do that we cannot stay here. Your gods have failed you. Admit that this venture was foolishly undertaken. Our only hope is to surrender to the Dragon Highlord—an unpleasant and dangerous task, but one I offer to undertake.”
“And you will receive Verminaard’s reward for handing us over to him,” said Riverwind.
“Unlike you, I am thinking of the people’s welfare,” said Hederick. “You would see all us all perish rather than admit you were wrong!”
Riverwind could have cheerfully seen at least one of them perish, but he kept silent.
“Perhaps you are waiting for the gods to perform a miracle?” Hederick said, scoffing.
“Perhaps I am,” Riverwind muttered, and he turned on his heel and walked off.
“The people will no longer follow you!” Hederick warned. “You will see.” Riverwind thought this very likely. As he walked among the refugees, he saw them huddled together for warmth, their faces pale and pinched. The fire’s glow that had warmed hearts last night was cold ash this morning. They had food and water enough for a few days more, and they were at least that far from the gate—if gate it was and if the dwarves would let them in. If, if, if. So many ifs.
“We could use a miracle,” Riverwind said somberly, lifting his gaze to the heavens. “I’m not asking for a big one, not like moving the mountain—just a small one.”
Something cold and wet stung Riverwind’s skin. He put his hand to his cheek and felt a snowflake melting on his skin. Another snow-flake landed in his eye; another splattered on his nose. He gazed up into the gray clouds, into masses of white flakes drifting lazily from the sky. Instead of a miracle, the gods had sent yet more to test them. The snow would clog the pass. They would have to leave or risk becoming trapped here for good.
Even as despair settled over Riverwind, he felt his heart lift. He did not understand why at first, then the reason came to him. The dragonfear was gone. The dragons were no longer in the skies. He stared at the snow falling thick around him and he would have fallen to his knees to give thanks, but he had no time to waste.
Riverwind had been given his miracle. It was up to him to make use of it.
Chapter 4
Arman’s Destiny. Anvil’s Echo. Murder holes and worm Meat.
Flint had described the wonders of the dwarven realm of Thorbardin many times to Tanis, always with a touch of bitterness, for although no hill dwarf would ever trade his place in the world “above” to live beneath the mountain, every hill dwarf was deeply offended that the choice had been taken away from him. Tanis had always secretly believed that Flint had exaggerated his tales of the amazing sights to be found in mountain kingdom. Flint actually had never seen any of these sights. He was merely recounting tales that had been told him by his father, who had heard them from his grandfather, and so on back several generations. Flint was convinced that there was immense wealth in Thorbardin that was being denied him and his people, so when he told the tale of a city built entirely inside a gigantic stalactite, Tanis was always careful to hide his smile.
Now, walking the roads beneath the mountain, Tanis was starting to think he’d done his old friend an injustice. Whereas humans constructed buildings out of stone by mounting blocks one atop the other, the dwarves had carved their buildings out of the mountain’s interior, taking away rock rather than adding it, so that all the structures seemed to flow together in beautiful and entrancing formations.