But the dwarf shook his head. "This is Deep Shanatar, lad."
Kall lifted an eyebrow. "I don't believe your memory for maps has failed you," he said. "So I don't have to remind you that we are not where Deep Shanatar should be."
"Who says so?" argued Garavin. "I'm telling ye-and having studied far longer than ye've been alive, I should know-we're in Shanatar, and I'm guessing a part of it that's never been known. An outpost, maybe, but a grander one I've never seen."
"Kept a secret, even from Iltkazar?" Kall asked, naming heretofore the only known surviving kingdom of Deep Shanatar. Garavin had told him stories of the place long ago. "Why does one build a secret outpost?" he asked. "Unless they're doing something other folk might not approve of?"
Garavin looked at him. "Yer point?"
"You dig strongholds for people who have secrets or who want to protect knowledge. Is it possible the dwarves did the same here, with magic? Did the Howlings, and by extension, Varan, stumble upon that work?"
"If they did, it was all tainted by the Howlings' greed when they turned to Abbathor." Garavin said, shaking his head sadly.
"Why are Abbathor and Dumathoin fighting over such a small group of souls?" Kall asked.
"Because the Howlings are fighting," Garavin replied. "These gods of the Morndin Samman, our pantheon, are forever locked in struggle. The Howlings are olorns, stories that become symbols. Whichever side wins in this will gain more than souls."
"They gain a victory in lore," said Kall, understanding. "Your stories will reflect the redemption of the Howlings from their greed. Dumathoin's power grows."
"And his children would rejoice," said Garavin.
"Are the Howlings powerless in this? If they seek redemption, why do they not renounce Abbathor and ask Dumathoin's forgiveness?"
"Because they made a pact with the god of greed and accepted his blessings and aid. That gives Abbathor power over the Howlings that isn't easy to forsake. Dumathoin can only intervene so far as to hold them between life and death. For the rest, they must atone."
"But Meisha's master disrupted that process," said Kall. "So her message-the dwarf's warning-was also a cry for help."
"Issued to one who might carry and keep a dangerous secret," Garavin affirmed, "and risk everything for the sake of a friend. Meisha was wise to seek ye out."
Kall did not voice his doubts on that score. "And do you think it's a coincidence that I count among my friends a devout servant of Dumathoin?" he asked instead.
Garavin smiled. "Little in this world is a coincidence, lad." He nodded up and down the abyss. "Which door?"
"I don't think it matters," said Kall, "but whichever we choose, we can't lose track of these doors." He looked back at the open portal. "That's our way back to the surface."
"The Shadow Thieves are sure to block it," Garavin pointed out. "If they haven't already. Might be we'll have to find a different exit."
Kall didn't need to tell the dwarf how monumental a task that would be. Their odds of surviving long enough to collect the others and find the way out seemed slim indeed at the moment.
"We could call out," he said finally, "from the bridge. The echo will carry down at least a dozen of these tunnels. If they're nearby, one of them might hear us."
"As could any number of beasties foraging in the tunnels," Garavin said.
Kall nodded. "Better to encounter them in the open than a bottleneck in a tunnel, where traps may be waiting to spring."
"Agreed," said the dwarf. He drew his maul out and cradled it in both hands.
Kall strode to the center of the bridge. His bootsteps echoed in the vast chamber.
Thousands of feet must have trodden these bridges, Kall reflected, a testament to the forgotten legacy of the dwarves, and far grander than all the merchants of Amn above. The enormity of such a lost existence humbled Kall.
He raised a hand to the side of his mouth. "Meisha!" he shouted. The Harper's name carried far down the cavern in either direction. "Laerin! Morgan!"
He shouted until his lungs ached. Nothing stirred in the vastness.
Kall turned back to Garavin, seeking a new suggestion, when Borl began to bark furiously. The dog pushed his head between the stone slats of the bridge.
Kall looked down. Thirty feet below, Talal ran from a tunnel in the opposite wall onto a bridge, so fast and stumbling so much that he nearly toppled over the edge. Sheer luck kept him upright as he plowed across.
"Morgan!" Kall yelled as the tall man came out behind Talal. "Up here!"
Neither slowed. Morgan flung his head back and hollered, "Stay there!" Spinning, he flung a dagger at the tunnel mouth. The throw broke his stride, and the normally graceful thief fell sprawling on the bridge.
Kall saw Morgan's dagger stick to the hilt, and his eyes traveled upward in horror to see the demon. The beast stalked onto the bridge, his four legs spread to block any possible retreat. Blood ran from his mouth all the way to the stone. Crouching down, the demon leaped into the air, springing toward Morgan.
The Howlings' penance-Meisha's beast, with blood-soaked claws-and Kall's friend, lying helpless on the bridge without Laerin to back him up.
"No! Gods of stone damn you!" Kall shouted. He vaulted over the rail and dropped, curling his body and praying he could hit the beast in mid-spring. If nothing else, he would take the demon over the side with him.
They collided in the air. Kall felt the heat, the blast of brimstone, before he even touched the demon's hide. He landed flat on the beast's back, surprising him and driving him aside of his intended target. The demons claws raked for balance; his hindquarters fishtailed back and forth on the bridge, trying to shake Kall off.
Kall felt blood on his hands. They were covered with small wounds ripped open on the spines sprouting from the demon's back. And he burned. He felt slick blisters form on his palms and remembered the sickening smell of his campfire burns. If the nerves in his hands hadn't been dulled, he wouldn't have been able to withstand the pain.
The demon reared onto his hind legs. Kall slid off his back to the walkway. He no longer needed to worry about taking the attention off Morgan. The demon's smoldering, malevolent gaze was firmly fixed on Kall. The beast lunged at him, his claws poised to rake whatever exposed flesh they could find.
Kall had no space to maneuver or dodge on the bridge. Without really considering it, he jumped over the rail and off the bridge, plunging straight down again. Reaching out, he caught the bridge's stone ledge. The sudden, snapping weight jarred his shoulder, nearly wrenching it from its socket. Kall gritted his teeth and reached up with his other hand.
The demon hit the bridge where Kall had stood and turned, coming back for another attack.
In his peripheral vision Kall saw Morgan on his feet, climbing a rope Garavin had tied onto the upper walkway. The dwarf fired his crossbow at the demon. Dangling from the rope, Morgan threw another dagger.
The demon hardly seemed to feel the stings. The beast shook out his long, red mane and stalked Kall. Up close, Kall could see a fresh piercing wound had rent his abdomen, but the maimed socket where his eye had once been was an old wound.
Hatred emanated from the orb that still functioned. Kall felt it as a creeping fear that worked its way up his spine, threatening to paralyze him.
The beast was playing with him, trying to shake him loose from his perch without an effort. Blood dripped from his fangs onto Kall's face. When Kall didn't move, the beast stepped back, and a veil of darkness descended around them.
Agony exploded in Kall's injured hands. Sickeningly, he realized the demon had sunk his jaws into the backs of them.
With a shout of pain, Kall let go, and found to his horror that his hands were impaled, tangled in the thing's mouth. Curling his legs, Kall kicked out against the bridge, away from the demon's face. The demon's hot breath was a furnace of filth and rot. He pulled his hands free, and then he was falling.
He passed out of the globe of darkness in time to see a shower of magical bolts streak above him, into the sphere. Kall prayed the magic came from Dantane, that the wizard would be able to save the others.
He looked beneath him, but all the bridges were out of reach. He plummeted past the last one and down into another, greater darkness. His vision failed as the light from above faded. His ears filled with rushing air, then suddenly, nothing. His descent came to an abrupt halt.
Kall waited for his bones to shatter against the stone. His chin struck his chest, mashing his tongue between his teeth, but other than that small pain, he felt whole.
Groaning, Kall rolled to his stomach. A wave of vertigo swept over him as he realized he was staring into the bottomless chasm, suspended by some invisible string. Pumping his legs, he felt the fly spell propel him upward.
Dantane, he thought, or Meisha. Could it be she survived? Trepidation warred with giddy relief that the Harper might still be alive.
Kall put his boot against the cavern wall and pushed off, hurling himself back to the battle.
When he emerged into the light, his suspicion was confirmed.
Meisha and Dantane stood on the bridge with Talal between them. Meisha saw Kall coming and motioned to the demon, which stalked cautiously down the walkway toward the group. The globe of darkness had gone, and Dantane continued to hurl spells, but the demon kept coming, measuring the wizard's strength.
Kall flew up from beneath, his sword leading. He slashed along the demon's flank and kept going, up out of his reach. On the bridge, the advantage was temporarily theirs. As long as they could stay out of the demon's reach and resist his aura, they could fight. If he managed to herd them back into the tunnels, they were mice in the snake hole.
A massive, clawed paw struck out at Kall's face. He flipped over backward and came from beneath with his blade out straight. He stabbed for the demon's chest, but he dodged away.
Kall pulled out of the roll and floundered, losing precious time as he righted himself. His grasp of the flight spell was tenuous at best. He took a claw to his shoulder for his mistake, a wound that burned down the length of his arm.
Kall circled under the bridge and came up in a burst of speed, hoping for surprise, but the demon was gone. Weary of the wizard pricking at him, the beast chose to charge down the bridge to the spellcasters and Talal.
Dantane threw out a hand as though to ward off an attack. In response, a wall of thick stone sprouted from the bridge, growing like a blunt spike to intercept the demon's charge. The demon slammed into the wall, shaking the entire bridge, but the spell held firm.
"The rope!" Kall yelled up to Garavin. He grabbed the dangling end and flew over the wall. The demon continued to pound and claw against the barrier. He would wear it down quickly, Kall knew.
He floated down, putting the rope in Talal's hands as Garavin retied it from above. Meisha flew beside him, helping the boy scramble to the relative safety of the upper bridge.
"He's breaking through," said Dantane. The wizard weaved on his feet, drained by the force of all the released Art.
"You have to keep him on the bridge," said a new voice.
Kall reacted instantly. He swung his sword with all his strength.
