Revelation, page 16
“I know where you’re talking about,” Lorik said. “We don’t call it by that name, however. It is known as the Hoppe Gorge, though I’ve never seen the ruins of two great towers.”
Aaron looked at his two companions. “Well, at least we know where we are. The question is, where do we go from here? We have little food and water, and I don’t think I would trust this river, yet, to drink. Should we try and row across to the shore or let the river take us farther along?”
“Captain,” Braden said, “if we are to get into the old dwarf stronghold in the mountains, we must do it from the southern face. There is no way to enter the ancient stronghold on the north side of the Kanton Mountains. There are some secret passages that I know of, tunnels that, perhaps even the deladrin never located.”
“So we sail through the gorge, then?” asked Lorik.
“Not through the gorge… I don’t think that would be best,” Braden said. “Once we reach the old towers, we must leave our raft behind and begin hiking along the southern edge of the mountains. The Tower of Kanton is on the eastern side of the river, and that is the tower we should make for. On the western side of the river is the Tower of Anador but there is no longer a bridge to cross the gap.”
“That will be our road then,” Aaron answered. He looked at Braden. “Do you know a path through the mountains that will take us to the old stronghold without being noticed?”
Braden thought. “It has been a long time, and I don’t know if it still exists, but there used to be an old path through the mountains, a trail that once followed a ridge along the southern edge from the Tower of Kanton to the main entrance. The dwarves would use it when traveling between the two.”
Aaron nodded in agreement.
Lorik looked down at the small satchel. “Captain,” the sergeant asked, “what about food and water? Our pack is nearly empty.”
“We tighten our belts, Sergeant,” Aaron replied, “until we are able to re-supply. I don’t see what other option we have. It is unlikely that we can enter into any city or town and expect to receive help. We are ragged, and without any gold. Besides that, we have betrayed our former lives for what we are pursuing. Every guard in every town will have been alerted to capture us.”
Lorik nodded in agreement. “We will still need to find some supplies.” He looked to Braden. “Do you think that when we’re off this raft, you might be able to scavenge up more… well… provisions?”
“I’m not sure,” Braden said. “The mountains are scarce and hold little in the way of food. But, when we are there, we might be able to find something.”
The river gently flowed to the west as it followed the edge of the rugged mountains. A long, sweeping bend in the river turned the watercourse south, bending toward the spires of the Kanton Mountains. The water they floated upon had cleared; no longer the murky brown but a deep blue. They drifted through a wide plain with grassy fields on both sides that waved in the gentle breeze. Several miles ahead the water started to churn. To the northwest, they watched the definite signs of the Hoppe River winding its way from the north. Ahead, the Kanton Mountains continued to grow in their view, rising right out of the plains and reaching like spires into the air.
The day warmed in the bright sunlight, and the air buzzed with small insects and birds dashing back and forth. After spending days in caverns, dungeons and the Waste, Aaron was grateful to see their surroundings come alive. Occasionally they would watch some creature venture to the river to refresh itself in the heat of the day. Once, a massive bull-elk lumbered from a dense thicket and took a long, slow drink from the river.
It dawned on him, then, that the water had become safe again to drink. He gave Lorik and Braden a sly smile and scooped a handful of water into his mouth. The other two gasped, eyes wide with surprise, and watched to see if the ill properties of the noxious river would have any effect on him. He sat there, waiting… nothing! The water was clean, crisp, and Aaron’s heart felt lighter for the opportunity to take a full drink. The other two joined in and soon they were splashing and carrying on like boyhood pranksters instead of hardened soldiers. Aaron leaned back on his arms, dripping wet from a most remarkable splash he received at the hand of his sergeant, and enjoyed a well-deserved laugh.
“I haven’t felt this free in years,” Aaron sighed with great relief. “I think I’ve been too long in the service of the emperor.”
“That’s no longer an issue, Captain,” Lorik said.
“You’re right, and with that I don’t think it right that you call me by that title any longer. We’ve known each other for too many years to allow regulation to hinder friendship. I may have been your superior in rank, but you are mine in more than that.” Aaron looked intently at Lorik, deep respect and gratitude in his eyes. “We’ve cast our lots together for good or ill, and I think that beyond this point we are fellow adventurers and friends.”
Lorik took a hard look at him. “Perhaps,” he said, “but you are the leader of this quest, and I believe that you will guide us to success if anyone will. I will follow your leadership until my time has ended upon this world. There has always been an air of destiny that surrounds your life, and I am anxious to be there to see it fulfilled.”
“I will follow you as well, Captain,” Braden said. “When I agreed to lead you to the old stronghold I had only one motive, to finally escape my long imprisonment. But I can see, now, that there is a certain providence which follows you… or, perhaps, leads you. That alone is enough for me to consider you the captain of our small band.”
Aaron was stunned by the loyalty the other two displayed toward him. His guardsman followed him because he held superior rank and could inflict punishment upon them. Now, here, Aaron knew two men who showed a devotion to him from the heart. He felt humbled by their response and didn’t know quite what to say.
Looking at them both he sighed. “Very well. I will try and lead us to our purpose, and hope to do so quite soon.”
Aaron glanced up and noticed the river beginning to change. It drew their little craft with increasing speed as the Dead River began to merge with the Hoppe. Small whitecaps formed on the surface as the waters churned with mounting violence.
They were carried into the rapids, unable to control their vessel, powerless against the current. Spinning, turning, they continued downstream, each of them trying to steer the raft with their hands, splashing against the waves to no avail. Aaron’s eyes widened with amazement as he looked downstream. A massive canyon, like a giant wound between the eastern and western expanse of the mountain range loomed before them. Enormous granite walls rose up from the swirling maelstrom, forcing the waters of the two rivers into a narrow ravine. On each side of the river, high on the face of the walls stood the ruins of two massive single towers, seemingly carved right out of the stone.
Lorik pointed. “Look!” he shouted. From the tower on the east mountain face a path meandered down the cliff to the edge of the water.
Their raft drew closer to the canyon. Water splashed over the edge of their vessel as the river churned with greater force. They had passed beyond the joining of the two rivers and the rushing waters grew more violent with each moment. Aaron knew that they had no power to guide their raft to the edge of the canyon and make landfall. As he looked at his two companions he feared for their lives but determined that they needed to abandon their vessel if they wanted to have any chance of reaching the eastern path into the mountains.
“We must swim for it!” Aaron shouted. “We must make for the eastern shore before it’s too late!”
The river coursed along, carrying them faster toward the chasm. Aaron strapped the satchel around his shoulder and neck, making sure it was secure, and dove into the rapids. The cold water crushed against his lungs, forcing him to exhale. He came to the surface, gasping for air. The turbulent rush tried to steal his strength, but Aaron forced his muscles to obey and started swimming. With powerful strokes he angled his approach to the eastern shore. The strong current pulled at him, and Aaron knew immediately that if he missed the landing, he would be carried along with no chance of escape.
Behind him Lorik and Braden had jumped in as well and fought their way toward safety. Braden seemed to have the easiest time of it, his strong, stout arms and powerful legs propelled him toward the shore. Lorik struggled against the currents and found that his angle of attack toward the shore was miscalculated. He began to drift beyond the possibility of survival.
Aaron made landfall, dripping wet and exhausted. He looked out to the river and saw his sergeant fighting against the current with mighty strokes of his arms but feared his friend was lost. Braden was near land when he turned his head to see the sergeant struggling, drifting perilously close to the point of no return. The dwarf changed direction and swam with great strength to Lorik. Both he and Lorik now struggled together against the current, fighting with all their might in a valiant effort to reach the eastern landing.
Aaron looked on, helpless as his two companions fought against the torrent of the river. The massive flow of water continued to send them downstream and past the landing area. Lorik and Braden reached the eastern wall, and though the current swirled around them, they found it possible to use the jagged face of the cliff to slowly make their way back toward the captain. Aaron searched in vain for a rope, vine, anything he could use to reach his struggling companions. However, the dwarf’s strength proved to be more than a match for the river and, finally, the two crawled to the shore.
Aaron rushed down to the river and hauled Lorik out of the water. The sergeant gasped for air. He buckled over in spasmodic heaves as his body ejected the elements of the river. Aaron went quickly back to retrieve Braden who, though strong as he was, was completely spent in his effort to rescue Lorik. The dwarf collapsed in a heap on the shore, exhausted and unable to move. Aaron sat, worn from the exertion and the emotion of the moment. He glanced at the river which almost claimed the lives of his friends and watched as the tiny raft that had delivered them from the Waste continued its journey south. It fractured in the torrent and finally vanished beyond his sight.
Aaron lifted his eyes to look at the ancient structure that loomed above him. The massive, broken tower seemed to gaze down upon him like a menacing sentry daring him to approach. Its dark, grey stones had collapsed in many places around the parapet, exposing the inner structure to the elements, but its granite wall still stood firm. It was perfectly round, with smooth stone quarried directly from the cliff walls. Leading up to it was a worn, winding stairway carved directly into the rock face. The stairs switched back and forth up the face of the cliff until it reached the tower, several hundred feet above where they stood. It served as a formidable defense against any attempt to pass through the river.
Aaron was impressed, but had more urgent matters to attend to. Lorik began to stir. Braden also regained some vigor and limped the few feet to sit next to him.
“Well,” panted Lorik, “we’ve come this far.” He looked toward Braden, gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you… thanks for coming after me. I would never have made it if it weren’t for you.”
Braden shrugged it off. “Garam said something when we entered into the underground caverns of Charis; he said we’d only make it if we stick together. I intend on making it.” He gave a brief, jovial smile and turned to look up at the tower above them. “Captain,” he said, “I think we should make camp at the top, perhaps even in the tower itself. It is still the most fortified location and we will be free from watching eyes.”
Remembering the deladrin that had flown overhead was all the encouragement Aaron needed to climb the stairs. Lorik regained his strength and followed after Aaron with Braden right behind him. So, together, the three companions inched their way up the cliff face, following the narrow, carved stairs that lead to the Tower of Kanton.
8
Into the Kanton Mountains
The Tower of Kanton loomed like an ancient monolith on the precipice above. The path meandered in a switch-back along the cliff and was little more than a narrow staircase carved into the face of the shear granite wall. They climbed up the stairs, which proved treacherous and gave Aaron and Lorik no end of trouble. The rocks were covered in lichen, and though the stairs were cut right into the face of the cliff they were fractured and rounded in many places from years of exposure to the elements.
Often they had to climb hand and foot, and once Aaron stumbled as a piece of stair crumbled like sand under his weight. Lorik was directly underneath and caught Aaron as he started to fall. Only Braden seemed undaunted by the narrow, steep flight of steps. He scrambled past the two soldiers; his strong hands and sturdy trunk-like legs provided superior dexterity for the rugged terrain.
Low upon the western peaks across the river, the sun cast lengthy shadows along the canyon and shrouded the three companions in ever-deepening darkness. Above, lurking overhead, the tower of Kanton was monstrous and appeared to simply hang on the edge of the cliff’s face. Cut and bruised, Lorik and Aaron continued to clamber after the dwarf who, now far ahead of them, seemed to regain his strength with every step.
Far below, the river swirled and churned through the massive, narrow ravine, its thunderous voice echoed against the stone cliffs as it rumbled through the canyon. Across the chasm, the sister tower loomed in the lengthening shadows. Though once a mighty stronghold, its ramparts and battlements lay fractured and fallen, leaving nothing but a hollow, stone cylinder. The tower of Kanton, being more intact, stood with the ancient splendor of its craftsmen, with only the upper level in ruins.
Each grueling step brought Aaron and his companions closer to the ledge where the ancient fortress waited. Fighting through exhaustion, Aaron finally reached the base of the tower. The ancient fortification stood tall, and if the upper level were still intact, it would have been a sight to behold. Its wide base was made of massive blocks carved from the surrounding cliffs. Scattered on the ground, like debris from a windstorm, lay the shattered remains of the upper level. Large fractured stones that once served to protect the upper ballista now were cast aside, covered with moss. The rotted timber of a catapult’s throwing arm rested nearby, useless. Several marks on the arm indicated that the wood had been burned long ago, perhaps when the tower had fallen.
As the companions circled the tower they discovered an overgrown trail leading east into the heart of the Kanton Mountains. The path was carved out of the stone and climbed into the steep, rocky crags. Beyond that, the Kanton Mountains, with their snow-capped peaks that glowed in hues of red and purple as the sun faded in the west, looked like jagged teeth piercing into the twilight sky.
“We best take our shelter in the tower, the day is spent and we would be safer inside,” said Braden. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he walked toward the entrance to the tower. Aaron and Lorik followed, wary, but in desperate need of rest.
The interior was a jumbled mass of burned and broken wood and stone. To their left, a railed stair was built on the inner wall, circling its way to the top of the structure. Dust and cobwebs intensified the gloom of their surroundings. In the center of the room lay massive wooden beams, broken and burned along with piles of planks and old, rotted furniture. A massive hole had been smashed through the center, puncturing every floor as if someone had dropped a boulder from above. Aaron could see all the way to the sky.
The sun finally passed beyond the peaks of the western mountains and left the tower in darkness. Above them, through the ruined upper levels, stars dotted the evening sky. A breeze began to blow, eerily voicing its disapproval as it howled through the old structure. Echoing from the canyon below, the raging river thundered on.
“Try and find some means of light,” ordered Aaron. Lorik and Braden began to rummage through the heaps and piles that were cast all about the main floor while Aaron carefully navigated the stairs around the interior wall. Slowly he inched up to the next level. He gripped the cast iron rail for support and found it so rusted that it occasionally crumbled in his hand. He pressed tight against the outer wall and climbed about twenty stairs to the second level.
On the platform, Aaron strained his eyes to see the shapes and forms of the ruins. In the distance—what he first thought was a trick of his eyes—a pale, white light glowed. Anxious that they were not alone in the tower, he slowly and carefully began to navigate the outer edge of the landing. With every step, the boards creaked and groaned under his weight. He crept along, careful to find his way with his hands, tripping over a barrel that rested against the wall. The pale light grew brighter as he drew near, illuminating the faint outline of a smaller figure, sprawled out upon the floor. The captain sat motionless, wishing he held his sword.
Aaron breathed a sigh as he finally realized that the figure was a dwarf now long dead. Clutched in the fallen warrior’s bony hand, a small, round stone radiated a ghostly white light. The dwarf’s body lay near the edge of the hole in the center of the floor, with a massive wooden beam across its back. He feared the ancient supports might collapse, but he wanted to retrieve the illumine-stone. On his hands and knees, he crawled the remaining distance to the old dwarf.
The wood issued mournful groans—eerie exclamations to the fragile strength of the floorboards. He reached the booted foot of the body and a loud, frightening snap resounded in echoes up the tower. He held his breath and waited for any other sound of breaking wood. When none other came, Aaron exhaled in relief and continued toward the skeletal remains. He clambered to the broken timber that lay across the ancient dwarf’s back, a beam which formerly supported the upper levels. He imagined the chaos that must have transpired as the building began to collapse.
The light emanating through the old dwarf’s fingers provided Aaron a view of the remains. Traces of the beard were still readily apparent, as well as his heavy brow above the vacuous eye sockets. No flesh remained, only a thin layer of tissue covered the skeletal frame. The ancient warrior wore a heavy tunic over dull and pitted armor. A braid of gold thread still reflected the pale light, interwoven in the dwarf’s beard. The fallen dwarf’s arms were stretched out before him, an ancient axe in one hand and the illumine stone in the other. Aaron wanted to retrieve them both.
