It had been a relief to see the striking trio of the mountainous peaks that marked the entrance to Ghornathia. The gnome had battled his way onwards, dragging the horses behind him, tugging on their reins as they fought to turn back down the mountain. Their coats were matted rugs of mud and frosty snow, their tails and manes stiff with ice crystals. Gomel’s gristly beard was specked with white flakes, the air so cold that the warmth of his skin did not melt them. The entrance to Ghornathia, the Gnome Kingdom could only be opened from the inside and only if the correct password were given. Gomel had quickly found the small cleft in the bare cliff face, hidden well between several large boulders used to create a small passage wide enough for only Gnomes to pass through. Even then, it was so well hidden that you would have to known exactly where to look: two very discrete runes scratched into the underside of a flat piece of shale carefully placed at the foot of the cliff. Gomel had wriggled his way down the passage, his oversized belly making it a tight fit, until he reached the Horn of Ghothos.
