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of Captains. Three more times, meetings were held at which the Warrow spoke of
the Brega Path in terms of bottlenecks, ambuscades, deployments, and other
tactical features. It was sundown when he finished, and at last all the
Captains had heard his words.
During the time Cotton was speaking, the work at Dusk-Door continued. At times
it went swiftly, at other times slowly, yet progress was being made. More than
three quarters of the stone was now out of the way, yet only seven hours
remained until midnight. Lanterns were again unshielded, and the toil went on.
Cotton ate his evening meal, then sat once more atop the broken dam and
watched the labor at the far wall. The stars began to shine in the vault
above, and still the effort went forth. Time passed, and Rand joined the
Warrow. "In just three hours night will be at its deepest," remarked the Man,
peering at the starfield.
They continued to watch the work in silence, each immersed in his own
thoughts. Farlon came and joined them,
68
DEMN15 L McKIERFIAH
. THE BREQA PATH
69
but said nothing as he, too, regarded the sky and judged the depth of the
night. Shortly, however, there came a cheer from the Great Loom, and Cotton
sprang to his feet. "They're done!" he shouted. "They must be! See, the light
shows only a few rocks remain, and they are being rolled into the black crater
even now."
The three watched, and soon the lanterns began bobbing northward as the
workers returned to the encampment. Word finally came: the task was indeed
finished the massive job done with. Durek, smiling, came carrying a lantern to
the top of the falls. "Well, Friend Cotton," he rumbled, "we have succeeded,
and with yet two hours to spare."
Durek summoned a herald to him and spoke a word or two. The herald stepped to
the edge of the falls precipice and raised a golden horn to his lips, and blew
a blast that echoed throughout the vale, causing all who heard it to leap to
their feet with hands flying to axe hafts. And even though Cotton was standing
next to King Durek, still the Warrow found himself reaching for the hilt of
the Atalar Blade, so compelling was the night to arms of the War Horn.
At this sound, Farlon raised his own black-oxen horn to his lips, and an
imperative call split the air. Again Cotton fc]t his heart thud and his blood
surge, and his gaze leapt in wonder from Durek's golden War Horn to Farlon's
black-oxen horn. And he glanced to the silver Horn of the Reach hanging by the
green and white baldric over his own shoulder, recalling its heartlifting
voice. The peals of these three clarions seemed, somehow, irresistibly
compelling, though their calls were different: the golden horn was resonant
and commanding; the black, flat and challenging; the silver, sharp and
calling.
Cotton, too, felt the urge to sound the trumpet he carried the silver Horn of
the Reach and his hand grasped the bugle; yet he did not set the wind to it,
for he knew the dread this token held for the Dwarves; and so he let it fall
back to his side unvoiced.
Yet other sounds peaied forth as Durek's and Farlon's calls were answered by
the shouts of Dwarf warriors and by the clack of axe upon buckler, a sonance
which soon became a great rhythmic pounding of steel upon bronze.
And Cotton's heart pounded too, and his blood surged and his spirit flamed as
the Ragad Vale rang with the great
hammering and with the roar of the fierce War calls of the Chakka. And above
this din pealed the wild cry of a hom of Valon, but above all belled the great
golden command of Durek's mighty War Horn.
And the Dwarves of'the Army came to the golden call, for it was the summons of
their King. Their blood was up and their hearts aflame, and as they came "they
shouted and flourished their weapons to the sky, and their Dwarvish passions
blazeu. And when the clamoring Host had gathered on the sides of the vale near
the Sentinel Falls, a great proud cry burst forth from the Legion entire as
above them Durek stepped to the edge of the linn and stood.
The light of he lanterns filled the valley before the Dwarf King, and he was
wreathed in the blue-green phosphorescence. The Moon was full and shone down
on him, and the circlet of stars on his black mail-shirt glittered silver in
the moonlight. And at his side the water tumbling o'er the linn shimmered
brightly. His black and silver locks fell from his helm, and his forked beard
shone with luster. He grasped his silveron-edged axe in his right hand, and
the blade sparkled. And he looked somehow greater than his stature, for he was
King.
Durek raised his arms, and when quiet fell, he spoke; and though he did not
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