“Come forth and fight me, you worms!” he shouted, brandishing his sword at the taunting shadows. They merely laughed at him again with harsh, maniacal voices.
Valorian had ridden what seemed a very long distance when suddenly Hunnul snorted a fierce warning. Before the man could move, three small creatures dropped from the ceiling onto his head and shoulders. They wrenched off his helmet, threw it aside, and clutched at his head. His soul quailed at their foul touch. They reeked of evil, and their tiny, powerful fingers dug into his skin and hair like burning poison. They couldn’t draw blood or seriously injure the soul, but they could inflict agonizing pain.
With an oath, Valorian dropped his sword across his legs and tried to wrench the creatures off with his hands. They clung, screeching and yowling in his ears until he was finally able to peel two of them off and fling them against the rock walls. They bounced off the stone unharmed and ran gibbering into the darkness. The third still clung to his shoulder.
The clansman looked around, and for just a moment, he stared into the wizened, depraved face of a gorthling. Its head looked like a mummified child’s; its eyes were large and depthless, like a chasm of horror and despair. With a shudder, Valorian stabbed his sword at the wicked, grinning face. The blade sliced deep into the creature’s head, knocking it off his shoulders to the ground, but the creature clambered to its feet and vanished as quick as a rat.
“Gorthlings!” Valorian spat with loathing. Somewhere in the tunnel, a harsh, evil laugh sounded out of the unseen depths.
The man and horse didn’t wait for another attack. They hurried on, breathless and frightened, while dry, guttural voices snarled and mocked them.
“Foolish mortal,” the voices hissed. “You play your games, but you are ours.”
“They’re testing us, Hunnul,” Valorian said harshly. “They’re not yet sure what we can do.” All at once he noticed his sphere of light had dimmed during their fight with the gorthlings. He quickly concentrated on it, channeling the unfamiliar magic through his mind and into the light. To his vast relief, it flared, bright and reassuring, once more.
At that moment, he caught a glimpse of something at the edge of the renewed light. A mass of small, gibbering forms was crowding into the tunnel behind them, gathering to attack. If that many creatures caught them, he and Hunnul would never be able to fend them off.
An image of Amara’s lightning bolt flashed into his mind, and quickly Valorian raised his hand and sent a small blue bolt of his own burning into the midst of the creatures. The mass fell apart, screaming in furious surprise.
“Run!” he shouted to Hunnul.
The stallion raced forward down the tunnel, his eyes rolling white with fear. Valorian ducked his head and clung desperately to the galloping horse. He could only pray there were no sudden drop—offs or blind walls ahead. His light kept pace with them through the dark tunnel like a guiding star, and Valorian thanked his goddess at every step for the power she had given him.
Behind them, he could hear the gorthlings yowling and screeching as they chased the horse down the underground path. The man knew the creatures wouldn’t be too worried about his momentary escape, for he and Hunnul were trapped in Gormoth. The gorthlings had all of eternity to catch and subdue them.
Valorian stifled a shiver and shoved that thought out of his mind. Let the gorthlings think he and Hunnul would never escape. Perhaps then he could catch them off guard. All he and the black stallion had to do was stay out of their clutches long enough to find the crown and a way out.
Unfortunately, that didn’t look as if it were going to be easy. The tunnel’s quick turns and sharp curves made it difficult for a running horse to maintain a fast pace. Hunnul had to slow down to keep from crashing headlong into the stone walls or losing his balance. The gorthlings behind were gaining at every turn. The creatures were small, but they were fast and very familiar with the black tunnel.
Then, without warning, a hail of stones crashed down on the man and the running horse. Hunnul stumbled, and his sudden movement pitched Valorian over his head. The clansman crashed into the rock floor and lay dazed while stones fell all around them. Gorthlings laughed from the ceiling above.
One particularly large chunk just missed Valorian’s head, and the loud crack of stone on stone brought him to his senses. Desperately he scrambled back into his saddle. He was about to urge Hunnul on when several of the swiftest gorthlings caught up with them. The creatures swarmed up the horse’s back legs and attacked Valorian like vicious wildcats.
Once again he had to sheath his sword and fend them off with his hands. Three gorthlings clung to his back, so Valorian quickly yanked off his cloak, wrapped it around them, and hurled it as far as he could. Hunnul, meanwhile, had recovered his footing and cantered forward. Another gorthling was still hanging to Valorian’s arm, trying to snatch the sword. It scrabbled up his forearm, hissing as he reached for it.
Valorian was about to grab its leg when, to his surprise, the gorthling shrieked in pain and flinched away from him.
Without further attack, it dropped off and ran crying into the tunnel.
Valorian stared in amazement at his arm. What in the name of Sorh had hurt that gorthling? Nothing he or Hunnul had done had harmed it. Why did this one flee? He studied his arm as best he could with the erratic movements of his horse, but he could see nothing unusual.
Except maybe one thing. In the folds of his heavy winter tunic glittered the gold armband his wife had given him on their betrothal. It was his most precious personal possession and one he wore on his upper arm at all times. When he had pulled his cloak off, the armband had been exposed, and the gorthling had touched it. Could it be that the gorthlings were afraid of gold?
If this were true, Valorian wished he had a whole chest of gold. One small armband wasn’t going to help much against a swarm of gorthlings. Still, it was a fact worth remembering.
While the man was thinking of gold, the horse continued to canter down the tunnel. The path seemed straighter now, but steeper, forcing the black to slow down again. They both could hear the gorthlings following them, for the harsh voices reverberated through the hollow darkness.
Moments later, Valorian noticed the passageway ahead was growing lighter. The brightness didn’t come from his sphere, nor was it the clear light of day. The light was yellowish and uneven—more like firelight. The air had changed, too, becoming warmer and more heavy with the smell of superheated rock.
The clansman had only a moment to wonder about it before Hunnul galloped through an archway and into a large grotto. The light immediately intensified; the stench of molten rock struck their nostrils like a blow. Valorian took one horrified look and brought Hunnul to a sliding stop.
Before them, the path continued on through a giant cavern, except now it was no more than a narrow ledge that wound along the wall on the left side of the cavern. About twenty feet directly below the trail was a wide, slow-flowing river of lava that was moving downward toward the center of the mountain. Valorian had never seen molten rock before, and’ its heat and ponderous, deadly current staggered him. He didn’t need an explanation to know that it would be agony to fall into that river of liquid stone.
On the other hand, he and Hunnul couldn’t stand around and wait for the gorthlings to catch them. They had to keep going. Swiftly Valorian dismounted and, after a few reassuring words to his horse, led Hunnul onto the thin, crumbling ledge.