“And you’ve spend your life hunting Old Ones ever since?” Sasha asked.
“Or wizards or servants of the Shadow,” said Kormak. Karnea looked away. They walked in silence a long while after that.
Kormak looked over the side of bridge. Three hundred yards below the stream looked tiny. He kept walking over the great span. He was very conscious of the long drop beneath him.
“Bad place to get caught by an ambush,” Boreas said. “No way on or off except to jump. Attackers could easily hit from the top of those towers.”
“That’s why they were there,” Karnea said. “The dwarves were able to defend each entrance to the bridge and the middle as well. There were gates in each.”
It was not what the dwarves could have done that worried Kormak. It was what men could do now. That far tower perched at the edge of the bridge would be the perfect place for Otto and his boys to wait for them. Even if all they did was drop rocks, they could most likely cause casualties. “Let’s hope there is no one waiting for us,” he said.
“If you’re thinking about Otto and his lads, I would not worry,” said Sasha. “They would not climb those towers if their lives depended on it.”
“Why not?” Kormak asked.
“They are haunted.”
“By whom?”
“No one knows but lights are seen in them, and voices speaking in strange tongues are heard, and people vanish who go into them, never to be seen again.”
Karnea looked up. Her interest was piqued. “I would like to inspect one of those places. This might be the result of some old dwarf rune-magic.”
“We don’t have the time,” Kormak said. Sasha looked relieved. “We need to push on.”
When they passed under the arch in the last tower guarding the bridge’s far side, Kormak sensed something. He reached up to touch the Elder Sign on his chest, but he felt no tell-tale warmth. An odd expression passed over Karnea’s face, and she frowned, clearly puzzled by something. Kormak was glad when they got out of the shadow of the structure and into the cold mountain light again. There had been a definite sense of presence about the gatehouse.
Sasha smiled coolly at him. “If you think that place was bad, just wait till you see the City in the Deeps,” she said. “That place is really spooky.
In the distance a dire wolf howled, as if in mournful agreement. Kormak looked up at the ridgeline from which the call had come. He saw a grey shape up there. Something small was perched on its back. After a moment, it vanished. But somewhere in the distance another howl answered its call. Kormak did not like that at all. It sounded too much like a signal being passed along a line.
Chapter Seven
THE ROAD TWISTED round a corner and a long valley became visible beneath them, running all the way to the foot of one of the great peaks. The road ran down the slope and directly towards a massive gate, flanked on either side by two monstrously huge statues, like the dwarven road markers but on a completely different scale. Within the valley was a camp of scores of tents and dozens of other structures. Even from this distance Kormak could see hundreds of people moving around down there.
“Prospect Valley,” said Sasha. “There are a lot of rough people down there. Try not to pick too many fights.”
“Your friend Otto is the one we have to worry about,” said Boreas.
“He’s not my friend, but he’ll no doubt have a few down there. They can be a pretty scummy crew.”
“I am sure they are not all bad,” said Karnea. Even she did not sound too optimistic about that.
“Not all of them will side with Otto,” said Sasha. “He won’t likely try anything too open in the daylight but things might get a bit sticky come nightfall.”
“Well, we’ve got a few hours yet,” said Karnea. “Maybe we can get underground before then.”
“That might be even rougher,” said Sasha. “They could follow us in and no one would interfere if they attacked us in the Underlands.”
“So, it’s our last night above ground for a while,” said Boreas. He studied the camp in the distance. “We might as well get a move on.
There were more people in the camp than it appeared from a distance. That much became obvious as they approached. There were scores of tents, ranging from large pavilions of silk, to small prospectors tents made from canvas. There were lean-tos built from sticks, set against the sides of boulders. There were makeshift shelters made from cloaks stretched across branches. There were even a few cabins of stone and chipped rock. The camp was set near a stream for water. There were a few keen traders obviously here to try and get the pick of the artefacts early. They were easy to spot, being flanked by burly bodyguards.