Draaddis Vulter staggered with fatigue. He had been searching for the kender and the merchesti without pause for two days.
Draaddis had mentally traced the party on its travels. Since they crossed the southern Vingaard Mountains after turning east, they had skirted around the northern ends of the Garnet Mountains and around the north end of the little range that stopped only a few miles from Pey.
When he had left his laboratory Draaddis had tele-ported into the mountains where he knew another band of goblins made their home. Takhisis said he was not to depend on humanoids again and he would not, but he needed them to search. The foothills and the deep gullies hid the travelers, and depending on their direction of travel they could have been anywhere within an area that covered nearly three hundred square miles.
He had sent most of his goblins northwest, beyond the Castle Kurst, thinking the kender and their party would continue to avoid mountain travel if they could.
Most of the goblins were out of reach when he discovered a set of pony tracks traveling due east from Pey. He followed them but to his disgust, he found a group of six dwarves at the end of the trail and had to start again. Just before the rain started he discovered a second set of tracks that had disappeared into the gully at his feet. The runoff from the surrounding hills had half filled the little arroyo.
Several charred pieces of wood had been washed against a small outcrop of rock and gave evidence of an abandoned campsite. Had they left it by choice or had the torrent of water, now washing down the gully, carried the campers and their gear away?
Draaddis spoke a word of command and a tiny ball of light appeared just above the rushing torrent. He sent it downstream until he saw a deeper shadow, and hurried down the bank. The light bobbed above a blanket that had been caught on a thorn bush at the stream's edge.
His quarry had been caught in a flash flood, he decided, and hurried downstream, along the bank of the rushing water. He wondered how far he would have to follow the watercourse before he found the bodies of two kender and the merchesti.
My Uncle Trapspringer has a saying: As much as he likes meeting people, sometimes, some people can make life hard. This was the trouble with those pesky dwarves-not that I have anything against dwarves, you understand…
"If we find the dwarves, we still can't drive them away from the entrance," Halmarain said. She was tired of the rain, of slipping and sliding on the sloping ground at the feet of the mountains, and her earlier cheerfulness had washed away with the storm. "We don't know the dwarves are camped in front of the entrance," she continued. "Maybe they just picked that place because they were tired too."
"Can't, don't, won't, because," Trap chanted, irritated with Halmarain's negativity. "We can find out," Trap said. "I can use my invisibility ring-"
"Orander's invisibility ring," Halmarain reminded him.
"… Orander's invisibility ring to slip around them and look for the entrance," the kender finished. "If it's not there we can start a new search."
Halmarain nodded. "Just remember, the spell won't last too long. You don't want them to catch you."
The lashing rain continued. They found it slow going as they climbed the side of the mountain to stand under the tree where Grod had been sitting. In a spirit of helpful-ness, he pointed north, then south, then to be sure he was right, east and west. In the distance, the others spotted the faint glow of a fire.
"How do they keep it going in the rain?" Ripple asked. The black clouds were dumping a deluge on them, yet the dwarf fire seemed unbothered by it.
"Great! Fire that can burn in the rain. I'd like something like that. Is it magic? Do dwarves have magic too?" Trap asked, his eyes alight with hope.
"None that I know of, but then dwarves have not been my study," Halmarain replied. "Except the Aghar, of course," she said after a hard look from Grod.
Trap thought she had finally accepted the idea of the gully dwarves' magic wheel until he saw her dip her head and smile.
While the others waited under the tree, which gave them a little shelter from the rain, Trap hurried down the slope, slipping and sliding. At the bottom of the valley that separated the two mountains he found a rushing stream, but luckily for him, a large tree had fallen across it, and he used the thick bole to cross the worst of the current.
The climb up the other slope was more difficult, because of the torrent of water washing down the steep slope, but at last he was within fifty feet of the dwarves' camp. The six Neidar were sitting beneath a tent-like structure that was nothing more than a canvas roof on hastily erected poles, but it did keep the rain, which was falling straight down, from drowning their fire. They appeared to be partially dry as they sat on the saddles they had removed from their mounts. Not far away and partly sheltered by an overhang of the cliffs, their ponies stood hobbled and sleeping.
Trap frowned. If this had been one of his tales, the dwarves would have been talking and he would have learned all he needed to know. Instead they stared into the fire, and he would have to search out the entrance for himself.
The kender pulled out a ring, slipped it on his finger and checked himself. He was still visible. Wrong ring, he decided. He held the first in his left hand while he searched his pouches with his right. Aha! With the second ring on his finger he had disappeared, even from his own sight.
Since the dwarves seemed unwilling to talk about anything of interest, he circled around the camp and took a close look at the cliff wall. Beyond the fire he found a strange formation. Where the base of the stone cliff curved, a thin, almost crust-like wall jutted out from the cliff like a curtain. A narrow opening, one that would not be noticed unless the searcher pressed right against the cliff, allowed access into a chamber about twelve feet long and six feet wide. In spots the outer wall was wafer thin, and the faint light from the dwarves' fire penetrated it. Trap looked around.
He had found the entrance to the abandoned city of Digondamaar, he decided. He could see the cracks where the cliff wall was unnaturally smooth and even. They outlined a door five feet high and four feet wide. Behind him the irregularities in the curtain wall were made by nature. The rest of the cliff side was rough as well, except for the curtain wall. The big secret was a failure.
He slipped out of the small antechamber, hurried along the base of the cliff until he would be lost in the darkness, and pulled off the ring. Back under the tree on the other side of the valley, he told the others what he had seen.
"Then all we have to do is hold off the dwarves while we open the door by means unknown to any of us." Halmarain said in a voice that made the task seem impossible. The rain had drowned her enthusiasm.
"I've been thinking about that," Trap said. "Where is that knife that cuts so well?" He scrounged around in his pouches, but it was Ripple, digging in her own bags, that discovered it.
"You must have put it in my pouch by mistake," she said, handing it over.
"Pretty Kender need pretty knife," Grod said.
"You mean you've been stealing from them too?" Halmarain looked up, surprised. The idea of anyone taking a kender's belongings seemed to astonish her.
"Have you? Trap eyed the gully dwarf with awe rather than anger. "We'd better check our pouches and sort out our belongings again," Trap told Ripple as he tucked the knife in his belt.
They made their plans and slogged their way across the valley. By traveling in the storm and the darkness they could get quite near to the dwarves' camp without being seen. When they were as close as they dared go, Trap put on the ring of invisibility again and slipped around the dwarves who, by that time, had rolled themselves in their blankets and were snoring loudly. Trap crept along the base of the cliff until he reached their mounts. Then with Orander's knife he cut the leather straps that kept the ponies hobbled.