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As he spoke, a bright splinter of flame cleft the darkness like a lightning

bolt far above, exploding with a report that jarred some small rocks

loose.

“Hurry up, back down!” growled a chorus of irate voices, perhaps

six in all. “You go back up,” Leifr answered. “There’s nothing below

moving.”

but water. Start

“Who’s down there?” demanded one of the Dokkalfar.

“Raudbjorn,” came the rumbling response. “Back up.”

“Raudbjorn!” muttered the Dokkalfar. Then one called, “We’re

not backing up for you. If you don’t like it, you can jump. I hope that

fire wizard burns you like bacon.”

The Dokkalfar laughed nastily, and the ladder creaked as they

descended another step. Their faces caught the red glow of their torch—

lowering, sinister faces. With an unpleasant shock, Leifr recognized

Greifli, who had cut his leg. At the same moment, Greifli recognized

Leifr.

“It’s Fridmarr,” he said in disbelief.

“Kill him, then,” someone growled. “We’ve had too much

trouble from him already. Day-farers should all be killed.”

“Do it and hurry up,” another voice said. “I think that fire wizard

might be coming down after us.”

Raudbjorn fastened the chin strap of his helmet and pulled his

shield up over his shoulders to the top of his head. Gripping one of the

hand-holds in his teeth, he started climbing upward, expressing his

feelings with an inarticulate roar of wrathful challenge, He held onto the

ladder with one hand and took swipes with his sword with the other,

driving back the Dokkalfar above. They hailed him with blows and

rocks to no avail; he advanced inexorably, hacking at their feet when he

got near enough. The Dokkalfar soon abandoned the ladder for the

jumble of timbers crosshatching the shaft and fired arrows at Raudbjorn

when they got the opportunity. Most of their arrows went wide of their

mark in the darkness, but a few whizzed by dangerously near, and

one hit Raudbjorn’s shield. Motioning Leifr to stay under cover behind

a timber, Raudbjorn sheathed his sword and unslung his deadly halberd.

Still protected behind his shield, he stepped off the ladder onto a beam,

inching his way across with his halberd to balance him. The Dokkalfar

climbed farther downward on the scaffolding to escape from him. One,

who stood his ground a little too long, was swept from his perch by the

halberd and sent plummeting down with an echoing shriek.

Suddenly the entire structure shifted with an ominous groan as

Raudbjorn reached the middle, and everyone froze, not breathing, until

the creaking and shuddering stopped.

“Raudbjorn,” Leifr called. “Come back from there before it

collapses and takes you with it.”

“Need to get rid of five Dokkalfar first,” Raudbjorn replied.

“Lighten the load. Dokkalfar trapped now, no place else to go.”

Raudbjorn stalked the remaining Dokkalfar and picked them off

the timbers one by one until only Greifli remained, holding the torch

and waiting at the lowest part of the scaffolding. As Raudbjorn reached

the lowest timber and stepped onto it cautiously, the scaffolding creaked

again. Raudbjorn waited until the structure had steadied and crept

after Greifli with catlike grace along a beam, with nothing on either

side to hold onto.

A look of cunning overspread Greifli’s face. He jumped on the

timber under his feet, causing the scaffold to sway alarmingly.

Leifr was almost straight above Greifli; if he leaned out a bit he

could drop a rock right on him. Groping around for a loose one, he

heard the cracking of wood.

The scaffold folded in on itself, tearing away from the walls of

the shaft, a section at a time. Raudbjorn clung to a timber, looking up

with astonishment.

Still holding his torch, Greifli sprang desperately from timber to

timber even as they sagged, making a last flying leap toward the

ladder. Then ‘the whole structure of timbers gave way at last, sinking

into the black void and taking Greifli and Raudbjorn with it. The red

light of the torch winked out, leaving Leifr alone and trembling with

shock on the ladder.

“Raudbjorn!” he shouted, when the uproar of falling timbers had

ceased. There was no answer. “Raudbjorn! Answer me!” he roared in

despair.

“I hear you,” a voice said, not far above, and a burst of

blinding alf-light filled the shaft with twisting black shadows and

harsh glares. “Come on, Fridmarr, there’s nothing you can do to

help him now.”

Leifr gazed down the tangled maze of the shaft, which had been

considerably cleared out by the collapse of the scaffolding.

“I’ve got to be sure,” Leifr answered, staring down. “He saved

me once. It’s the least I can do for him.”

“Fridmarr! Stop! What a mutton-headed—Fridmarr! You’re not

going down there again!” Thurid clambered down after him, his eyes

glaring with rage.

Leifr stopped to rest a moment, allowing Thurid to overtake

him. “Shine your light down there, Thurid. We may be able to see

him.”

Thurid obliged with a blaze of light, but the bottom of the shaft

was a dark tangle of groaning, shifting timbers and black water. “I hope

you’re pleased,” Thurid growled. “Thanks to you, the Dokkalfar are all

going to escape. If you’d climbed up as you were supposed to, I would

be up there now, blasting Dokkalfar. I don’t see him, Fridmarr. Let’s

go back up. Look how fast that water is rising.”

Leifr resumed his descent. The water was rising at a visible rate,

gurgling around the timbers. “How did you get so much water to come

up, Thurid?” he asked. “I thought it would take days to fill all these

tunnels.”

“Ordinarily it would, but I was afraid it wouldn’t fill up fast

enough to suit me, so I used a water spell from one of my rune sticks.”

Thurid sighed and followed Leifr downward. “Do be careful,

Fridmarr!” he warned sharply as the whole jumble creaked dangerously,

grinding against the walls and splintering some of the timbers. Part of

the ladder pulled away from the wall as the treacherous mass shifted

upward with the rising water.

Leifr climbed onto the tangle of wood, occasioning even more

violent groaning and shifting. “I see him!” he called, identifying a

dark, sodden lump trapped not far below among the timbers.

Raudbjorn raised one hand in a feeble wave and exerted

another mighty shove against the timber that was trapping him. Already

the water was past his waist. Raudbjorn looked up at Leifr and smiled

his gentle smile.

“Knew you’d come, Fridmarr. This time Raudbjorn won’t get

out.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Leifr said, motioning Thurid to hurry. “I’ve

got Thurid with me. He’ll get you out with one of his spells. Isn’t

that so, Thurid?” The look he turned upon Thurid left no doubt about

his determination.

Thurid stepped onto the tangle with great trepidation,

yelping when it creaked threateningly. “All right, Fridmarr, we’ll try

it, but we’ve got to hurry. Before long there won’t be any sense in

pulling him out.”

He positioned himself over the timber that held Raudbjorn and

hastily read over a few rune wands. Then he polished his staff

nervously and held it aloft and began to chant strange words. The

timber groaned and trembled, and Raudbjorn’s eyes widened as it rose

inch by reluctant inch off his chest. The water was nearly to his chin

by the time Raudbjorn wriggled out from under the beam and

clambered upward, still clutching his prized halberd.

Thurid stopped chanting, and the timber fell back with a crash.

Heaving a huge sigh of relief, Thurid helped Leifr hoist Raudbjorn out

of the tangle of wood, shoving him toward the dangling ladder. Thurid

brought up the rear, with his alf-light glowing very pale. Brusquely he

brushed off Raudbjorn’s thanks, urging him to climb faster and stop

talking so much. A large part of his irritation was due to the water

streaming off Raudbjorn’s clothing and dripping into his face.

When the last ladder was behind them, they stumbled gratefully

into a short tunnel that was barely more than an airshaft. Raudbjorn had

to bend nearly double as they crept toward the small patch of light at the

end.

Suddenly a deep and ominous rumble shook the rough ground

beneath their feet with the most powerful tremor yet. Leifr lost his

footing, and Raudbjorn fell to his hands and knees, blocking the tunnel

effectively. Thurid battered at him in a frenzy, gasping, “Get up, you

great ox! Skrymir’s going to do it this time! The whole mountain might

fall in! We’ve got to get out!”

A thundering crash behind them filled the tunnel with dust as

tons of rock plummeted down the shaft. When the dust had settled

somewhat, Leifr raised his head from the protecting cradle of his arms

and looked around at a peculiar red light which suffused everything. A

dome of stone had fallen down the shaft, leaving a high, vaulted ceiling

above. The light seemed to come from the top of the vault. Leifr

glanced at Thurid, who gaped at it just as uncomprehendingly and

made only a faint croak of protest when Leifr stood up and picked his

way back toward the domed chamber.

Looking up, he gasped and shaded his eyes from the dazzlement

streaming down into the dusty pit. An enormous red stone hung like a

brilliant plug in a natural shaft that looked straight up at the sun. A

thousand facets caused the light to sparkle and dance on the walls. Up

near the ruby, runes had been carved into the stones.

“Skrymir’s heart,” Thurid whispered in awe, with his face turned

rapturously upward. “There was a chamber beneath it. This is what the

Rhbu candidates sought for. They came to Skrymir’s heart to learn.”

“That’s why Sorkvir wanted it? It’s full of power?” Leifr

questioned, unable to remove his gaze from the wondrous vision

twinkling above him.

Thurid nodded. “He was terribly close. The floor of the chamber

must have been only a few feet thick. There are voices here, too. This

disturbance has awakened them.”

“Old dead Rhbus talk to Thurid?” Raudbjorn queried.

“Maybe Thurid a Rhbu someday.”

Thurid shook his head quickly. “It’s not for anyone else to

say. When the Pentacle is cleared, others will come who have a greater

gift than I do.”

“The Pentacle won’t be complete until the grindstone is

returned,” Leifr said. “We have three days left. After that, if we’re not

successful—you’ll have to find another swordsman, Thurid.”

Thurid turned away from his rapt contemplation of the stone.

“Three days is three days. Plenty of time,” he snapped fiercely.

“Let’s go. Gotiskolker and Ljosa will think we’re all dead.”

When they crept from the small, rough opening at the end of the

tunnel, they found the remains of several petrified Dokkalfar. Thurid

nodded to the west where the sun had not been long below the horizon.

“They were a bit too hasty. Sorkvir was patient enough to wait for

the sun to set. If he’d waited for Skrymir’s last tremor, he would

have seen what he has been digging for all these years. Perhaps if he

had, he wouldn’t be so willing to forsake Dokholur.“ His keen eyes

discerned a group of horsemen riding southward, far below. ”I believe

his next and final stand will be wherever the grindstone is hidden.“

“Grittur-grof,” Raudbjorn said.

Thurid turned on him incredulously. “Grittur-grof? The

center of the Pentacle? What makes you think it’s there?”

“Raudbjorn carried it there, after Sorkvir heard Fridmarr came

back. Sorkvir hid it from Fridmarr. Lot of fuss over one old grindstone.”

Raudbjorn shook his head in wonderment at the vagaries of wizards.

“It’s a Rhbu grindstone, you dolt,” Thurid told him testily.

“The only one that will sharpen a Rhbu sword, which is the only

weapon that can destroy Sorkvir forever. That’s Sorkvir’s great

weakness—Rhbu magic is his bane.”

The mountain shuddered again, dislodging several black skarps

and boulders that crashed thunderously into the valley below,

scattering the thralls, Dokkalfar, and horses that lingered there. All

the portals were blocked by rockfalls, and water oozed out from

beneath, cascading down the steep, scarred slopes. Fissures opened as

the earth slipped downward in landslides. Where the tunnels collapsed

underground, deep craters pockmarked the mountainside. The glaciers