The Arrowstone

Chapter 17 - Flight of the Falcons

CHAPTER 17

FLIGHT OF THE FALCONS

Far below the Gnomes, like a sea of green, rushed the Forest of Clenseld. Soon they would cross its southern borders, for they had been travelling steadily for nearly three hours, and the Falcons flew with untiring strength and grace. Half an hour passed and now the lands began slowly to change below them. The great woodlands were finally failing, dwindling as the lands rose, and giving way to stark uplands, grey ragged hills that broke the horizon like a huge notched blade. These were the Rocky Hills that formed the northern boundaries to that country of ill-omen, the Land of Praethir. Thin mists rolled over the escarpments to meet them, and they found themselves flying higher to avoid the broken line of hills that faced them. They cleared the hills and plunged into a different world entirely. Vision was hindered by the great waves of mist that floated down from the sheer hills to rest on desolate plains where nothing grew.

'We are passing straight  over Praethir!' cried Tellom as they surveyed the formless lands below.

'It does not seem to bother the Falcons,' Himdrum replied. 'Do you hear a faint rumour of singing voices? It is soft and alluring, borne on the winds that sweep from the Shrouded Plains, the mistlands that surround the Grey Tower.'

'I hear it,' exclaimed Tellom. 'But I do not like it. I have heard stories tell of the enchantment of the voices that lure the unwary traveller into Praethir. But it is on the ground that they are most powerful. Up here we can hear only hints and traces of them, and to those sounds I will shut my ears.'

“Ijust hope we are not seen,' added Kamm.

Below, the lands stretched into a grey expanse, encircled by hills, and slightly depressed in its centre. This bowl-like region formed the heart of Praethir, and as they traversed it they felt the air grow bitingly cold around them, and a numbness creep over them, fed by fear. Over the vast wastes of grey sand they saw ahead the huge forms of giant pillars rising tall and solemn from the desolation. Like deep standing shadows they loomed, formidable guardians that disappeared into cloud. Tellom pointed ahead, and cried:

'The Endless Pillars of the Zugna'an! They are huge and terrible! And see! Among them stands the Grey Tower! Its base is lost in mist, but its pinnacles are like a cruel helm that houses one of the Drathlords! This is an evil place, and the sooner we are out of it the better!'

They came among the Pillars, those ancient stones of sacrifice erected by the Drathlords in worship of their evil Spirit-Lords, the Zugna'an, Demons of the sky. Terror froze their blood as they passed between the immense Pillars and felt their agelong power. Here the air was heavy with the feel of threatening evil. Even breathing was forced and difficult. Almost below them now stood the Grey Tower, built by Kondahlrod, and His dwelling place for the first three hundred years of its existence. The Gnomes felt the Falcons falter slightly as a tremor passed through them. There was a great force pulling on them, a vacuum that enveloped them, dragging them towards the cold walls of the Grey Tower. But the Falcons gathered strength, defying the terrible pull, and gradually rising against it.

They passed over the Tower and saw its cruel pinnacles pointing to the sky. The taste of fear was in their mouths, and their hearts hammered against their chests. They knew that, less than half a mile below them, a Drathlord was even now organising and massing his armies for War. But, fortunately, their fear was short-lived. With a swoop of their broad wings the Falcons increased speed and, ascending into cloud, sped southwards from the terrible presence of the Grey Tower and the Endless Pillars. Ahead of them the landscape rose again into hilly country where the mists did not linger, and grass grew once more, though it was brown and thin. As they came over these uplands they felt the fear drain slowly from their hearts, and they watched the country gradually turn from grey to brown to green below them. In crossing Praethir they had taken little over an hour, and now they were heading over the Rohl Downs towards the Mountains of Talgarith, known to many as the Mounts of the Horn. At the sight of them, the Gnomes felt a fresh vigour enter their blood, for they knew that their first destination, the Palace of Telhelm, was not far off. Again the Falcons increased their speed.