But as night lengthened into early morning and weariness blunted the sharp edge of his doubt and his fear, Jair found himself thinking instead of Brin. In his mind he saw her face again as he had seen it twice so recently in the vision crystal—once ravaged as she experienced some unspeakable grief, once awestruck as she looked upon the twisted image of herself in the form of that shade. Glimpses only, those two brief visions, and nothing in either could tell the Valeman what had come to pass. Much had befallen his sister, he sensed—some of it frightening. An empty feeling opened within him as he thought of her, gone so long now from the Vale and from him, on a quest that the King of the Silver River had said would cause her to be lost. It was odd, but in a sense she seemed already lost to him, for the distance and the time that separated them was strangely magnified by the events that had transpired since last he had seen her. So much had happened, and he was so far from what and who he had been.
The emptiness grew suddenly into an ache. What if the King of the Silver River had misjudged him? What if he were to fail and Brin be lost to him? What if he were to come to her too late? He bit his lip against such thoughts, swearing fiercely that it would not be so. Deep ties bound him to her, brother to sister—ties of family, of a life shared, of knowledge, understanding, and caring, and most of all ties of love.
They marched on through the dark of early morning. With the first light of dawn, Stythys took the company up into the rocks. Moving away from the Silver River where it churned dark and sluggish in its channel, they passed deep into the cliffs. Trees and scrub disappeared and barren rock stretched away on all sides. Sunlight broke east above the mountain’s edge, a brilliant, blinding gold that flared through the cracks and splits of the rock like fire. They climbed toward that fire until suddenly, unexpectedly, their ascent took them into a cliff’s dark shadow and they stood at the entrance of an enormous cavern.
“Cavess of Night!” Stythys hissed softly.
The cavern yawned before the little company like an open maw, jagged rock split and twisted about the passageway like teeth. Wind blew down across the mountain heights, and it seemed as if it whistled at them from out of the Caves. Lengths of dull, whitish wood lay scattered about the entry as if stripped by age and weather. Jair looked closer and froze. The lengths of wood were bones, splintered, broken, and bleached of life.
Garet Jax placed himself before Stythys. “How are we to see anything in there, Mwellret? Have you torches.?”
Stythys laughed, low and evil. “Torchess not burn in the Cavess, little friendss. Needss the magic!”
The Weapons Master glanced back momentarily at the cavern entrance. “And you have this magic?”
“Havess it, indeed,” the other answered, arms folding within the robes, body swelling slightly. “Havess the Fire Wake! Liess within!”
“How long will this take?” Foraker asked uneasily. Dwarves were not fond of closed places, and he was less than anxious to venture into this one.
“Passs through Cavess quickly, little friendss,” Stythys reassured rather too eagerly. “Takess you through in three hourss. Graymark waitss for uss.”
The members of the little company glanced at one another and at the cavern entrance. “I’m telling you, you can’t trust him!” Slanter warned yet again.
Garet Jax produced a length of rope and tied one end about himself and the other about Stythys. Testing the knots that bound them, he slipped free the long knife. “I will be closer to you than your shadow, Mwellret. Remember that. Now take us in there and show us your magic.” Stythys started to turn, but the Weapons Master yanked him about. “Not too far in. Not until we see what you can do.”
The Mwellret grimaced. “Sshowss little friendss. Come.”
He slouched toward the monstrous black entry to the Caves, Garet Jax a step behind him and the rope about their waists binding them as one. Slanter followed them at once. After a moment’s hesitation, the others of the little company also followed. Sunlight fell away as, the shadows about them deepened, and they passed into the stone maw and the darkness beyond. For a few moments, the dawn’s faint light aided them in their progress, silhouetting the shapes of walls, floors, jagged stalactites, and clustered rocks. Then quickly even that small light began to fail, and the blackness swallowed them.
Now they were practically blind, and their steps faltered to a ragged halt, the scraping of leather boots on rock a rough echo in the cavern’s silence. They stood in a knot and listened to the echo die. The sound of dripping water reached their ears from somewhere deep within the blackness ahead. And from deeper still came the unpleasant sound of rock grating against rock.
“Ssee, little friendss,” Stythys hissed suddenly. “All iss black in the Cavess!”
Jair glanced about uneasily, seeing almost nothing. Beside him, Edain Elessedil’s lean Elven face was a faint shadow. There was a curious dampness to the air, a clinging wetness that stirred, though there was no wind, and seemed to wrap and twist about them. It had an unpleasant feel, and it smelled of rot. The Valeman wrinkled his nose in distaste, realizing suddenly that it was the same smell that had been present in Stythys’ cell at Capaal.
“Callss now the Fire Wake!” the Mwellret rasped, startling the Valeman. “Lissten! Callss now the light!”
He cried out sharply, a kind of grim, hollow whistle that sounded of bone scraping, rough and tortured. The whistle rang through the blackness, carrying deep into the caverns. It echoed, long and mournful, and then the Mwellret repeated it a second time. Jair shivered. He was liking this whole idea of the Caves less and less.
Then abruptly the Fire Wake came. It flew at them through the darkness like a gathering of brilliant dust, bits of iridescent fire whirling and sailing on wind that wasn’t there. Scattered through the blackness as it darted toward them, it drew together in a rush before the Mwellret’s outstretched hand, tiny particles swirling in a tightened ball of light that cast its yellow glow outward to brighten the shadows of the Caves. The members of the little company stared in astonishment as the Fire Wake gathered and hung suspended before Stythys, and against their faces the strange glow flickered and danced.
“Magicss of my own, little friendss,” Stythys hissed triumphantly. The snouted face turned to find Jair, green eyes gleaming in the whirling light. “Ssee how the Fire Wake obeyss?”
Garet Jax stepped quickly between them. “Point the way, Mwellret. Time slips from us.”
“Sslipss quickly, it doess,” the other rasped softly.
They pressed on into the darkness, the Fire Wake lighting their path forward. The walls of the Caves of Night rose higher about them, lost finally in shadowed gloom that even the Fire Wake could not penetrate. From out of the gloom, the sound of their footfalls fell back upon them in strange, sullen echoes. The smell grew worse the deeper in they went, turning foul the air they breathed and forcing them to take shortened breaths to avoid gagging. The passageway split and divided before them into dozens of corridors intertwined in an impossible maze of tunnels. But Stythys did not slow, choosing without hesitation the tunnel he would have them follow. The glowing dust of the Fire Wake danced on before him.