"Oh wait, Bekki, just what is this, um, Vorvor?"
Bekki growled and held up a hand. "Tipperton, I will never get through this tale if you keep interrupting."
Tip's fingers flew to the dust-laden cloth over his mouth as if to seal his lips, yet he still managed to say, "But, Bekki, you keep using terms I don't know. It's not as if you and I had the same schooling."
Bekki sighed. "Perhaps you are right, Tipperton. Perhaps I need tell it as do the Chakka Loremasters."
"Oh please, Bekki, and I promise not to interrupt again."
Behind the cloth over mouth and nose, Bekki smiled. Then, casting his thoughts back to his tutelage in Mineholt North, Bekki said, "On the northeast quadrant of the Quadran stands a mountain of blue stone- oh, not that it is truly blue, but it bears a tinge of that color. The mountain itself is known as Ghatan, or in the common tongue, Loftcrag.
"In a great fold of stone on Ghatan's southern flank stands the Vorvor, a whirling churning gurge deeply entwined in Chakka legend: there a secret river bursts forth from the understone of Ghatan to rage around a great rock basin and plunge down into the dark again; this is the Vorvor, a great gaping whirlpool raving endlessly, sucking at the sky and funneling deep into the black depths below.
"When the world was young and First Durek trod its margins, he came unto this place. And vile Ukhs, shouting in glee, captured him and from a high stone ledge they flung him into the spin, and the sucking maw drew him down. None else had ever survived that fate; yet First Durek did, though how, it is not said. To the very edge of the Realm of Death, and perhaps beyond, he was taken, yet Life at last found him on a rocky shore within a vast, undelved, undermountain realm; and First Durek strode where none else had gone before-treading through that Kingdom which was to become Kraggen-cor. But at last he came again unto the light of day, and it is said that Dailn Gate stands upon the very spot where he walked out through the mountainside.
"Many have wondered how he managed to live for days, weeks, even months in what to them is nought but a cold stone realm, and to them it remains an enigma. But the Chakka know that he was aided by the Utruni-the Stone Giants-for Utruni admire the work the Chakkakyth do in the undermountain realm, unlike that of the Grg, who destroy the living stone rather than enhance it.
"And so, aided by the Stone Giants, Durek survived to found the great holt of Kraggen-cor, the mightiest Chakka-holt of the five Chakkakyth and one of the few places on Mithgar where starsilver is found.
"Long have the Ukhs rued the day they cast Durek from that high stone ledge, for on that day the enmity with Squam began, more deadly by far than the ravening whirl of the roaring Vorvor."
With eyes wide, Tipperton looked at Bekki. "But Kraggen-cor has been a holt for millennia."
Bekki nodded. "Indeed."
Tip shrugged. "Are you telling me that something which happened thousands of years past still drives you and your kindred to kill Foul Folk?"
Bekki clenched a fist and gritted, "He who seeks the enmity of the Chakka finds it, forever!"
Tipperton shook his head in incomprehension. "I always thought old grudges must die last in the endless days of time."
"Strange will be the day a Chak forgives and forgets."
They rode in silence for a while, the grey stone dust drifting down and down. Finally Tipperton said, "Tell me if you can, how did Durek survive? How did he see in the darkness below? Do you know?"
Bekki shrugged. "As to how he did see, there is a glowing lichen which grows on some rocks nigh understone rivers. Too, there is a phosphorescent moss in some of the caverns. Kraggen-cor in places has both of these. We use a preparation, a leaching, of the lichen and moss to make the Chakka lanterns, wherein no fire need be kindled, nor fuel consumed.
"As to what he did eat: blind fish and water weed, the glowing moss, mushrooms-"
"Mushrooms?"
"Aye, they grow at times in the very same caverns where the moss is found."
"Oh. I see. -But wait. The fish. Did he eat them raw?"
"Aye," replied Bekki, "that and other living things, for he could kindle no fire."
"Other living things?"
"Blind beetles, spiders, wor-"
"Enough, Bekki," cried Tip, shuddering.
Bekki barked a laugh…
… and on they rode through drifting down stone dust under the darkling sky.
They came to the village of Gronkulle, nought but a hamlet on a rounded hill, all the buildings now covered with the stone dust, the town overall a pale grey. But both Tip and Bekki were glad of the village, for as they rode through the powder-covered streets and past dust-laden, canvas-topped wagons, they found it had an inn.
Dismounting, they tied up the ponies at the railing, and through the door and into the common room they trod, shaking dust from cloak and clothing and removing the cloth from their faces. Men sitting at several of the tables- men in armor and bearing weapons-drew in their breaths at the sight of the two. Moving on inward, Tip and Bekki halted before a man in an apron stooping over and whisking a pile of grey dirt into a dustpan.
"Det dr en mork dag vilken bringa du-" Straightening up, the innkeeper's words jerked to a halt when he saw who these new patrons were.
"Sorry, but we don't speak Avenian," said Tipperton, stamping dust from his boots.
"Um, I was saying, it is a dark day which brings you to my inn," replied the 'keep, setting aside the pan and whisk broom. "What will it be?"
"Be?" growled Bekki.
"I mean, what will you have? Rooms? Food? Drink? We've not but a couple of rooms left"-he nodded toward the men at the tables-"what with the drivers and guards heading for the muster, as it were."
"All three, and a bath, too," said Tipperton, briskly rubbing his head, stone dust flying, the innkeeper frowning as it drifted to the floor.
"Have you someone to see to our ponies?" asked Bekki.
"Jarl!" shouted the innkeeper. "Ponnis er ute gata."
A young lad came scrambling down the stairs, his eyes flying wide when he saw the guests, but then he bolted out the door, Tipperton calling after: "Bring in our gear!" Yet whether the lad heard or understood, he did not know.
"A Dwarf and a Waldan: we don't get your like too often 'round here," said the innkeeper, bustling behind the bar. At Bekki's scowl, the man blurted, "Oh, not that there's aught wrong with it-"
"How many other Warrows have you put up?" asked Tip, grinning. "Or for that matter, how many other Dwarves?"
"Well, now that I think of it, you two are the first."
"Hah!" barked Bekki.
The 'keep stooped down and looked under the bar. "Urn, will you be wanting one room or two? And will that be a bath before or after a meal and a mug?"
"One room is fine," said Bekki.
"The bath before," added Tip. "I've got to get free of this dust."
The innkeeper straightened up, latchkey in hand. "Top of the stairs, third room on the right. The bathing room is out back. Jarl will see to the water."
As the two made their way up the stairs, from a nearby table one of the patrons stood and hurried from the room.
Quickly the news spread throughout the village:
One of the Litenfolk -Travelling with a Dva'rg, no less -From Kachar? Them what saved Dendor? -The little one, can he be the one? -The one what the kingsherald told us about?- -Him what snuck through the whole of the Horde?- And as the news spread, folks came through the still-falling dust and into Den Gronkulle Vadrshus-The Greenknoll Inn-though now it and the hill it stood on was anything but green.
"Aye, some came past, months agone, but they steered wide," said one of the men.
"Running for the Grimwall, we think," added the woman at his side.