Aglahad and the Dead City (In Tharbad: Volume Three)

19

The morning was cold, the mountains swathed in cloud. The road to Belegost was level for the most part and followed the contours of the mountain round to the north. Aglahad and I led the way while Finduilas took up the rear. We trod carefully between the small, loose boulders that littered our way. We were all jittery following the previous afternoon's attack from the air and Aglahad jumped at every little noise and movement. I'd given my staff to Lóni; his brother was helping him as much as he could but the going was slow. I offered him more of the tincture but he said it made him sleepy.

"Drink some of the willow bark tea I made for you," I suggested.

He made a grumbling sound. "I shall have a few puffs of my hearth-flute when next we rest."

Towards mid-afternoon, the clouds lifted and we came to a wide plateau where the road curved off around a sheer rocky ridge that extended out from the mountain like the prow of a ship. Beyond and below was what first appeared to be a wide field of scree. But unlike the grey expanses we had traversed further down the valley, we squinted against the bright white glare of this field. The road and the low, Dwarven wall disappeared underneath the scree. All was bare and waterless.

"Is it much further?" Aglahad said as we scanned the field before us.

"I have no memory of this place," I said. "The land has changed since last I travelled here."

"There is nothing for it," Lofar concluded. "We must keep walking."

"I hope we find it soon," Lóni said with a grimace. "My belly is rumbling."

As the road ended, we did not need to venture far onto the white field to see that this was no scree.

"Bones," Aglahad marvelled.

"The midden of the dragon, Gondir," I announced.

"But there are so many."

"She made Belegost her home for almost two thousand years."

Among the sun-bleached remains I spotted the skull of a mountain goat, a bear's thigh bone and –

"Is that human?" Finduilas muttered.

"Most likely an Elf," I suggested, "waylaid while traversing the pass."

The field of bones dissipated as it dropped down into the valley. Lóni moaned as we slipped and slid down the slope, the bones crunching under our boots. The immense outcrop towered above us. Aglahad lost his footing and tumbled down the slope, grunting and yelping. He came to a rest on his back, a dozen or so yards away with his feet facing us. Lofar couldn't help laughing and Aglahad scowled at him for a moment before joining him. He looked around for a moment before staring down the slope, past the outcrop.

"There!" he yelled. "Behold!"

We scrambled towards the boy, glancing towards whatever it was he was staring at. As soon as we passed the outcrop, we stood and stared at the Doors of Belegost. As Finduilas helped Aglahad to his feet the Dwarves hobbled onwards. The high ridge curved round, forming a high cliff, broken by huge cracks.

"I remember now," I said in wonder. "This is the summit of the Pass. The slope carries the road down into Imrad Lóriel and the forest of Eryn Dúven. The tumults of the past have had their way here." The once mighty stair that led up to the Doors was half-buried by rock-fall and the steps were broken and sloped sideways down the valley. The Doors too were tilted almost diagonally to the right and the surrounding masonry had buckled and cracked. The Doors themselves had been prised open by the upheaval; one was bent across the middle and the other had come free of its hinges.

* * *

We sat near the top of the stairs and shared the last of the pears and passed round the waterskin. After a short debate, Lóni agreed to stay outside while we explored the ruins. As we sat talking, a raven appeared from nowhere and alighted on a boulder that had crashed onto the stairs from the cliffs above.

Lóni squinted at the bird. "We've seen neither hide nor hair of anything with hide or hair since we ventured into this valley."

"And now a raven," Lofar continued, "harbinger of ill news, lands at our feet."

The raven hopped towards them and cocked its head.

"Finduilas, do us the favour of shooting it."

The Ranger took up her bow, smiling, and mimed loosing an arrow. We all knew Lofar didn't mean it. The raven stretched out its wings and jumped off the rock before riding the wind down the valley.

We made torches from the dry branches and the fire-moss I'd collected in the forest while the pass became enshrouded with more cloud.

I glanced over at the Dwarves as they muttered to each other. "Perhaps, Lóni, you should wait inside the doors. Those fell beasts might return."

"Aye, brother," Lofar said. "And here's my knife.

"Are you sure?"

Lofar slapped his shoulder. "Aye, I'm sure. Two weapons are better than one." He rose and turned to the rest of us. "Now, Master Siriondil, tell me you still have that map."

I smiled. "I have the map."

"Good. And I have this." He held out a piece of metal like a nail, dangling on the end of a slender silver chain.

"Ah!" I said, "I have not seen one of those for a long while."

"What is it?" Aglahad said.

Finduilas held her hand out politely to the Dwarf. "A north-shard," she said in wonder. Lofar, after the briefest hesitation dropped it into her glove. She looked at it closely before smiling and returning it to the Dwarf.

With that, a guttural gurgling cry, muffled by the cloud, heralded the return of the bat-beasts, even before I saw their blurred shapes through the swirling grey overhead.

"Through the doors!" Finduilas cried, picking up her weapons and torches. She appeared as weak and helpless as I felt as we squeezed past the crumpled, sheets of Dwarven metal into Belegost.