Quest for Knowledge (Volume 1 of the FirstWorld Saga) - Christopher Jackson-Ash (black female authors .txt) 📗

still not too big for it.” Aglaral and Kris tried to stop themselves but they both burst out laughing. Ubadah went bright red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment but said nothing further. With a huff and a grunt, he picked up his pack. Manfred cut loose the horses and gave each of them a smack on the rump. He knew there was little chance that they would not become warg meat very soon, but he could hope. Ubadah led the way up the track and set a firm, steady pace. Manfred let him have his head. He really is a king after all, not to mention a hero as well. I’ll just have to put up with being tired before this day’s out.

Although the path was narrow, the climb through New Hope Pass was relatively easy. The day was clear and a pleasant temperature. The snow and ice had melted and although there were a few loose rocks that were a bit treacherous, the climb was far easier than anything they had attempted on the journey to Tamarlan. Ubadah set a brisk pace and Manfred was forced to call for regular breaks to catch his breath and to take a drink of water. Kris seemed to be finding the pace as difficult as Manfred, but Aglaral was unperturbed. The path wound around a single high mountain that had a unique shape at its peak. Viewed from below, it was difficult to discern, but Manfred knew that from a distance it looked like a huge domed bell. They were climbing towards the summit of Mount Doom. Manfred had seen its imposing visage often, viewed from the south, but he had never climbed it or seen it from the north before. He knew all of the old stories. It was said that if you heard the bell toll you knew that Death was on his way to collect you. Do not wonder for whom the mountain tolls. Manfred kept his stories and thoughts to himself.

By mid-afternoon, they reached the snow line and climbing became more difficult. Aglaral said something to Ubadah and took a turn to lead. He set a slower pace, more suited to Manfred and Kris. By late afternoon, they reached a high plateau. The domed top of Mount Doom rose several thousand feet above them. A snowfield stretched in front of them. Manfred was pleased. He knew that they had finished their climb. A short way west and they should find the Doom Glacier. All being well, tomorrow they would begin their descent, but tonight he wanted to find the entrance to New Delve before it got dark. There had been no sighting of wargs all day; it seemed they had kept their part of the bargain, more out of fear than ethics, Manfred thought. Here, though, on the snowfield the evidence of their recent presence was abundant. The snow was pocked with the criss-crossing paw prints of many wargs. At one point, a large red stain darkened the snow. All over, their spoor fouled the pristine environment.

With the sun setting in crimson splendour behind the saw toothed peaks of the Mountains of Death, Manfred scanned the dark rock face of Mount Doom for a cave or a doorway. Just when he was about to give the order to pitch the tent for a cold night on the ice, he noticed something odd. There was an area of snow that was clean, unmarked and unfouled. He followed it to the sheer wall of the rock face. There was no evidence of an opening or a door. He concentrated and sniffed the air.

“There is a scent of magic here. The door to New Delve is in front of us, but it is hidden from us. Search for any clues, hidden runes, or strange marks.” The others did as he bid, while Manfred reached out with his mind in an attempt to read the magic. “There is old magic here. It is similar to the feeling I had at the exit door from First Delve at the Warning Falls. That is a very good sign. I wonder if it is as simple as knowing how to open that door?” Well, here goes, give it a try. It’s about time I had a bit of luck.

Manfred crossed his fingers. “Bahl Shamim.” He spoke the words in a clear, loud voice. Just as he said them, the sun dropped behind the mountains and darkness fell. It seemed to be an eerie coincidence. Rather good timing, if I say so myself. The last rays of the sun illuminated a shimmering change coming over the blank rock face. Where there had previously been a solid rock wall, there appeared a roughly hewn archway and tunnel leading into the mountain. As darkness fell, Manfred wondered whether it was real or whether he had simply imagined it by wishful thinking. He took out his staff and muttered a few magic words. The staff began to glow with a yellow light that allowed them all to see clearly. There were dwarf runes carved above the archway. 'Second Delve. New hope for the dwarf peoples. Enter friends without fear.' Manfred translated the runes. “It seems that David son of Dwahir son of Davit was successful in establishing a new delve, after all. I wonder what became of them all. Shall we take them up on their hospitality and go in?”

The question was largely rhetorical, as the alternative was a night on the snow. The four travellers entered the archway and began a gradual descent along a rock tunnel into the heart of Mount Doom. Manfred’s staff illuminated the walls of the tunnel, which were decorated with dwarf runes. Manfred moved slowly, studying the runes as much as checking where his feet were falling. He stopped at a place where there were more runes than anywhere else.

“The runes are a kind of diary of the delve’s history. They tell the story of the expedition, the establishment of the delve, their hopes and plans for the future, and they recall the disaster which befell them. I wish that I had the time to study them more; Dia son of Din son of Dane will want to know all of the details if by good chance our paths cross again. Come, we must find a place to rest tonight. I will tell you their story after we have eaten and before we sleep.”

They moved on again and the runes quickly petered out. Before long, the tunnel opened into a large chamber, hewn out of the heart of the mountain. It would not compare with the Jewelled Caverns of Devil’s Mouth but in the yellow light of Manfred’s staff, it was an impressive sight nonetheless. The Hall of the Mountain King; they achieved much before they met their fate. The walls of the chamber were decorated with precious stones that reflected and seemed to amplify the light from the staff. The chamber seemed to be a central meeting place. On a high dais in the centre was a large, decorated stone seat, the throne of the Mountain King. Tunnels ran off the main chamber in all directions, like spokes of a wheel from the hub. It would take weeks to explore this place thoroughly.

Manfred scanned the runes above each tunnel and selected one to explore. As they crossed the floor of the chamber, their feet crunched on something brittle underfoot. Manfred glanced down and realised, in horror, that they were walking on the bones of the dead. They picked their way more carefully, trying not to disturb the remains. There had clearly been a battle here, but from the look of it, the only casualties were dwarves. Manfred looked back at the others. Aglaral and Ubadah seemed to be all right, but Kris was in obvious distress. His breathing was rapid and shallow and there were tears streaming down his face. He has the emotional feeling to become a good bard. The warriors have seen it all before.

The air in the chamber was fresh and cold, evidence of a good ventilation system. Their boots were throwing up dust, though, that began to make breathing more difficult. Manfred didn’t want to think about where the dust originated. They entered the tunnel he had selected and it became less dusty. Small rooms had been carved out of the rock on both sides of the tunnel. They contained sleeping and cooking areas and more skeletons, including those of children. It looks like the women and children waited here, while the men fought. They found an empty room, empty of skeletons that is, with a fireplace and a stack of ancient wood. Manfred decided that they should spend the night there. They offloaded their packs and set up a makeshift camp around the fireplace. Kris built a fire and Manfred soon had it burning. The natural ventilation took the smoke away, high above them. Manfred stowed his staff and they sat in the flicker of orange flames and took an unappetising meal of dry tack and tea. Manfred used the time to mind-search the delve for signs of life or evil. He found nothing.

“We are safe here. There is no need to post guards tonight. We can all sleep and be well rested for the journey tomorrow. We must get back to Elannort and prepare for the battles which are surely ahead. Before we sleep, I will tell you what I learned from the runes. I’m afraid that the story is very much a repeat of the early days of First Delve. After a long journey, many hardships, and much searching, the dwarves identified Mount Doom as the place to establish their new home. They called it Mount Hope in those days. The early days were difficult, because they had few provisions and they had to build the delve from a very basic cave structure that existed when they found the place. Everything went well, though, for the first hundred years or so. The mining proved to be very profitable and they established trading links with a group of humans who lived in a forested area south of the mountains. I believe that this is now the Forest of Doom. They began to prosper and the women started bearing children. Unfortunately, their digging disturbed something evil. The original evil that had been liberated from First Delve became Gadiel the Dark God. When he was diminished by Gilgamesh, he fled north looking for a refuge to regenerate himself. Seeking the comfort of the womb, he sought out a place deep under the Mountains of Death, where he thought he would be undisturbed. It was a sad trick of fate that the dwarves should again disturb him. It is written that when he was awoken from his troubled dreams the mountain rang like a bell tolling. Mount Hope was renamed Mount Doom on that day. The last entry corresponds to the year 50300, two hundred and ninety-seven years after the dwarves left First Delve. Gadiel summoned a small army of the undead. The battle of Second Delve was short and one-sided. Gadiel sat on the throne and watched as the dwarves were slaughtered. After the battle, he dispatched the undead to take over the Forest of Doom and hold it as a staging post for future battles. He was still rather weak and left for the Northland in search of something; the runes are not specific. We know this because one dwarf survived the slaughter and hid in the caves until he could complete the story. He realised it might be important that people in the future learned what happened here. When he had completed his self-appointed task, he left the delve, in the hope of finding his way back to First Delve to warn the dwarves there. Since he never arrived, we must assume he met his end in the Mountains of Death or on the Frozen Wastes. He wrote one last thing and I don’t