City of Hawks

Then, slowly, little by little, his vision began to see variations in the blackness. Here was a darkness the color of coal, there a line of duller shade. Then Gord’s vision grew better still, and deep gray and shining ebony were distinguishable with visual ability that saw not but mere feet but outward by yards. Carefully, Gord resumed his hunt, searching for the enemy, Imprimus, in that place where Shadowking had told him was the most probable locale of the malign gloam’s lair. There were both time and opportunity after all.

The sudden onslaught of the duskdrake had been more than coincidence, that was certain. The terrible beast’s finding Gord in the total gloom of Snuffdark was likewise more than mere chance. The massive hyperdragon had been in the area for some reason, and the most likely one Gord could imagine was to serve as guardian for its ally, Imprimus, during the latter’s time of virtual powerlessness. If this theory was correct, then soon his enchanted vision should alert him to that fact. There would be darkness palpable, blackness more intense than any around, for such stuff gathered around the gloam as he lay in torpid repose during the interval of lightlessness.

“Hail, prince!” The coughing roar that conveyed this salutation was familiar. Was there a bit of sarcastic mirth in the greeting? It was hard to tell. Certainly Hotbreath’s eyes and bearing showed nothing but respect.

“May your pride always be well-fed,” Gord called back in formal response, “How came you here in this vile time?”

“With difficulty, but we too learned from Shadow-king where the nest of enemies is likely to be buried. I have come with some of my own pride, and Smoke-mane too is nearby, accompanied by his females. We are here to serve you once more.”

“Because…?”

“Because it is the will of our Allking. What other reason could there be?”

“What other reason is needed?” Gord shrugged in retort. At the best of times, big male cats make for uneasy feeling, even in alliance, for whatever reason. “I seek the den of the gloam-lich and his pack now, Hotbreath. Gather your pride members and follow.” Without watching to see if the great shadow-lion complied, Gord walked on, intent upon what lay before him.

The deep-chested roar of a male lion came suddenly from ahead. Gord set his body into motion, a bounding run that ate up the intervening distance between him and the location of the roar. There was the bulk of Smokemane, with a handful of large lionesses nearby. The massive male had his head thrown back and was voicing yet a second mighty roar when Gord came springing into the place where the lion stood. “Why do you send forth your challenge?” he demanded.

“I scent the evil reek of gloams,” Smokemane answered in deep growls of most ferocious sort. “I a

“Now I am come,” Gord said to him and his females. “I will lead the way, and you and yours will follow with Hotbreath and his mates. In what comes, Imprimus is mine alone. All others are yours-for any who care to set their fangs and sink their claws. Remember in the stalking and chase that the killing of that one, the gloam-lich, Imprimus, is for none other than me.”

“As you order, lord, but let us stop this speaking and seek the prey!”

Feline noses led them to the place where powerful illusions masked the entrance to the gloam’s hidden place of safely. The way was barred by a massive slab of shadow-steel. Not even the claws of the huge lions could penetrate such stuff, but Gord’s enchanted dagger could. The long-bladed poniard was in the young thief’s hand immediately, its magical metal cutting away the hard steel as a whittling knife slivers oak. The flat surface was broken by a rivet-held box that contained the locking mechanism of the portal. It was certain that the door would be barred inside as well, but first he must remove the initial closure. The dagger’s edge pared the steel away, sending metallic curls falling furiously, and then the box’s face fell away, and the lock was exposed. Next came the thick cylinders of the rivets. They were cut through, driven loose. The lock’s i

“I have it!” he cried as his groping found a heavy rectangle of metal on the i

It was difficult, but by straining Gord was able to reach down and locate a second piece of steel securing the door at its bottom. This time he was careful to hold the slab of steel, maneuvering the heavy rectangle so that it leaned upright against the portal it had barred. “Now, one last bit of work, and we should be free to pursue our foe!” The lower bar became a lever for the one Gord had been sure was above. Fortunately, the lockplate had been low on the door and the bars that held it fast were long. The tool served well, and with considerable effort Gord managed to employ it to free the uppermost fastening.

There was a third great clangor, then a fourth as the young thief discarded the bar he had held. When he shoved on the portal this time, the sheet of steel swung smoothly open on well-greased hinges.

“The eclipse of Mool and all the luminaries accompanying it above nears its conclusion, prince,” the huge lion named Smokemane growled to Gord as the young adventurer paused before the open entrance. “You must hasten if we are to take these enemies at their ebb!”

At that urging, Gord moved, stalking into the deeper darkness of Imprimus’ lair, followed by ten lions and lionesses. The hallway beyond the steel portal was wide and went straight into the low hill, angling downward rather steeply as it went. The man and his company of big cats had proceeded some distance, going mostly by touch and an i

Chapter 22

Great claws scrabbled as the lions tried to stop their precipitous slide down the polished stone sides of the trap. Gord, as he fell, set his mind, thinking that perhaps the whole thing was some form of illusion.

Neither feline nor human succeeded. The slide continued despite outthrust claws and positive thinking. In seconds all eleven victims were dropped from the steep chute into a circular pit no less than twenty feet deep. The lions landed on their feet, shaken but unhurt. Gord also came through unscathed, for his training as an acrobat enabled him to handle the fall without difficulty and immediately move thereafter to the far wall in order to avoid being crushed by a plummeting lion.

The lightlessness in the circular pit was so extreme that not even the eyes of the shadow-lions could penetrate its murk. Then a pale luminosity issued forth, casting a soft, pale green light all around the small chamber. Some vestige of the talisman’s force still lingered within Gord’s ring, as he had suspected. The young adventurer had wished idly for light by which to see, and in the next instant a dim radiance began to issue forth from his eyes.

The two great male cats snarled and their hackles rose at the phenomenon. Gord spoke soothingly, and both Smokemane and Hotbreath calmed down, even culling their respective females to show the lionesses that all was well and to restore their own lost dignity. That was a very important thing to the big cats.

“This is good… perhaps too good to be true!” Gord exclaimed.

“You think a death trap is good?” old Smokemane growled.

Gord could not restrain himself from taking the head of the big lion and roughly stroking it. The gesture was both one of affection and reassurance. “This place was designed to catch intruders and imprison them in its depth until the guardians within the stronghold could come and deal with what they had caught according to need. Now, at Snuffdark, no sentry stands, no warder watches. I will leave this place in a moment, and soon I’ll have all of you out too!”