Finally, the two groups passed out of the long tunnel, and suddenly there were guards all around them, a dozen warriors heavily armored and grim looking. Icelin might have been afraid of the presence of so much steel and so many dour-faced dwarves, but the passage ahead temporarily distracted her, for it contained the largest door she’d ever seen.
Ten feet tall and made of solid iron, the gate to Iltkazar wedged perfectly into the stone, an immovable titan that Icelin couldn’t imagine an enemy ever being able to break down. That was assuming the enemy made it so far, past the armored dwarves and clerics who stood on either side of the door.
The clerics immediately went to work tending the wounded dwarves, but Icelin noticed a few of them watching her and her companions with steely glares as they approached the iron door. Was it her imagination, or did their displeasure deepen when they caught sight of her? It must be her staff-they recognized her for a wizard-or else they sensed the wild Art inside her.
Icelin shook those irrational thoughts away. Likely they were simply suspicious of outsiders. There was no point in dwelling on her fears. She had no control over how the dwarves felt about her or her companions, but they’d obviously brought them here for a reason, one that Icelin suspected had little to do with their desecrating a burial ground.
As soon as they started discussing the Arcane Script Sphere, the dwarves had become agitated. Icelin sensed their anger wasn’t directed at her specifically, but she’d known enough of secrets in her life to know when someone was hiding something from her.
Perhaps this King Mith Barak would be able to enlighten them.
A shattering groan lifted Icelin from her thoughts. The massive iron door creaked open under the direction of the guards, and Icelin had another cause for wonderment. The door itself was at least three feet thick, lumbering open by inches, guided by the grim-faced warriors.
Joya came up beside her. “Few outsiders are allowed to witness the Gate Guardians opening the outer door,” she commented.
“The outer door?” Icelin echoed, incredulous. “Are there more doors like this one between us and the city?”
Joya’s soft, melodic laughter made Icelin think of elves and forests rather than iron and rock. “Nine doors lie between this spot and my city. The outer doors are a pair of iron giants. The inner six are iron, too, but cloaked in hizagkuur, one of our magical metals. The innermost is the mithral door, last protector of the Mithral City, our home.” The dwarf woman cleared a catch in her throat as she spoke these words. “Welcome to Iltkazar, Icelin.”
CHAPTER SIX
ILTKAZAR, THE UNDERDARK
21 UKTAR
Joya stepped away to speak to the gate guardians, leaving Icelin to stare in wonder as they proceeded through each of the nine mythical doors, for that’s what they seemed to Icelin-gates that would guard a giant’s lair or a dragon’s hoard.
“Did you know such places existed?” she whispered to Ruen and Sull. They walked at her side as silent shadows-well, perhaps Sull was not so silent, lumbering along with the clank of his cleavers as constant punctuation to his steps.
Sull snorted his amazement, never taking his eyes off the massive doors. “Lass, I’ve done butcherin’ for hundreds of folk in South Ward in my life. They bring me tales like this sometimes, and I listen with half an ear because I tell myself they can’t be true, just a lot of ruttin’ talk. Wish I’d listened, now,” he said quietly.
Icelin waited for Ruen to answer, but he appeared lost in thought. After their conversation in the tunnel, he seemed more distant now than he’d ever been. Even Sull shot an inquisitive glance at him. Then he looked to Icelin, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
Let him assume that we’ve been fighting again, Icelin thought. It won’t truly be a lie.
They passed through the mithral door, leaving the dozens of Gate Guardians behind and passing into a wider cavern, where the ceiling soared high above their heads. Being suddenly in the open space, Icelin felt as if some of the pressing weight lifted from her. The fear of being trapped underground started to leave her. It was impossible to feel too much trepidation with the city of Iltkazar spread out before her.
Torchlight gave way to glowing, silvery-blue lichen that covered the ceiling, spidering in and out of cracks in the stone and hanging down in clumps throughout the cavern. Once Icelin’s eyes adjusted to the silvery radiance, she found it easier to see by than the flickering, smoky torch glow.
The light revealed a broad avenue of worked stone flanked by towering statues of dwarves, their shadows thrown far across the cavern floor. Massive staircases led to buildings carved out of the stone-homes, shops, and temples-while winding among them to the centermost cavern was a great river. Bridges arched over the flowing water. Green and blue lichen and other underground flora grew on the banks and at the bases of creaking waterwheels scattered throughout the cavern.
“The River Dhalnadar,” Garn said, pointing. “The temple to Moradin splits the river in the cavern’s heart. Facing the temple across the plaza is my king’s great hall. My daughter Joya will take you there. Obrin, come with me. Ingara-”
“I will see Vallahir first and then come to you, Father,” she said respectfully but firmly. Garn nodded, and Ingara moved off down the avenue.
“Ingara is to be wed,” Joya said when the rest of her family had gone. She led them along the avenue under the watchful, frozen gazes of the statues. “Since the attacks began, she hasn’t had time to properly see to the preparations.”
“Vallahir is her betrothed?” Icelin said. “It must be hard being separated from her beloved at a time like this.” Icelin thought she felt Ruen’s eyes upon her, but when she glanced at him sidelong, he was staring at the statues.
“Separated from-” unexpectedly, Joya laughed. “From Vallahir? Her beloved? Oh my, I’ll have to tell him that one-that I will.” Her shoulders shook with a sudden burst of mirth. “Forgive me, I should explain. Vallahir … Vallahir is a war axe.”
“A war axe?” Sull cried. “But she looked tender as a young girl when she said his … er … its name a breath ago.”
“Yes, well, that’s not really surprising,” Joya said, still fighting to contain her smile. “Ingara is a smith-the best in our family-and she takes her work very seriously. Vallahir is the name of the war axe she has forged as a gift for her husband on their wedding day. Arngam-that’s her betrothed-is also a smith and very gifted in forging hizagkuur armor. He’s at work on a suit for her, which she will wear at the wedding. They’ve not been in each other’s company for a tenday while preparing the gifts.”
“A tenday?” Icelin couldn’t imagine it, separated from one she cared about for all that time. Once again, she was acutely aware of Ruen’s presence beside her, though she did not look at him this time. “It must be terribly lonely work,” she said to Joya.
“Oh no,” Joya said. They’d reached the river and had to climb a staircase wide enough for ten dwarves to walk abreast to get to a stone bridge. Pillars lined the bridge, chips of brilliant white crystal embedded in their dark stone. “Ingara is as closely connected to her smithcraft as she is to her family. Her thoughts are with Arngam while she works the forge, you can be sure of that. She’ll want him to have the greatest weapon her hands can shape, especially now,” Joya added, and the sadness that came into her voice distracted Icelin from the grandeur of the cavernous city.
Ruen must have heard the sadness too, for he spoke then for the first time since they’d reached the city. “You’re sealing off major routes to the city, there are giant spiders infesting the tunnels, and drow launch attacks practically on Iltkazar’s doorstep,” he said. “What is the city preparing for?”