They reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into a chamber lit by the same greenfire braziers as much of the rest of Grimwall. Makala’s hand was still stuck fast to Erdis Cai’s shoulder. As he came off the last step, she stumbled and nearly fell onto him, but terrified of what might happen if her body collided with his armored back, she gripped hold of the stairwell wall, tearing her nails on the rock.
Erdis Cai started to turn then, but the motion was awkward, and he realized that the flesh of Makala’s hand had adhered to his armor.
“My apologies. I’ve worn this armor for so long that I often forget I have it on.” He removed the gauntlet from his left hand, then reached over his shoulder and took hold of Makala’s wrist. Gently but firmly, he pulled her free of the freezing-cold obsidian metal and then released her wrist.
Makala fell backward onto the steps, landing painfully on her rump. She cradled her useless right arm, unable to feel anything up to the shoulder now. When Cai had pried her off his armor, she’d expected the skin of her fingers and palm to peel off and stick to his shoulder in a raw bloody handprint, but her skin was intact—smooth, pink, and healthy—save for the total lack of sensation, of course.
Erdis Cai put his gauntlet back on. “You will recover in time. One of my armor’s abilities is the power to drain the life-force of an opponent and feed it into me. It’s more efficient than drinking blood, if not as satisfying, but we weren’t in contact for long, and I did not consciously attempt to drain your lifeforce, so there should be no permanent effects.”
“Should?” Makala said, though in truth she was already beginning to feel tingling in the tips of her fingers.
“Forget your arm and look around you, lass. We have arrived at the very heart of Grimwall, the site of the greatest treasure it has ever been my good fortune to discover.”
The braziers here burned low, but at a gesture from Erdis Cai the green flames blazed higher, driving back the shadows and clearly illuminating the entire chamber. Once they had, Makala wished it had remained dark.
They stood at the outer edge of a circular stone chamber two hundred feet across. It was more roughly hewn than the rest of Grimwall, the wall, ceiling, and floor uneven and cracked in numerous places. Recessed areas eight feet high and four feet wide had been carved into the wall, and standing upright in each of the alcoves was a corpse garbed in full armor. Their flesh was dried, withered, and papery, drawn close to the bone. Though the creatures’ bodies looked ancient, their armor appeared new and highly polished: breastplates, backplates, helms, shields vambraces, and gauntlets. Their weapons were also in excellent condition: swords, battle-axes, pikes, war hammers, spears, poleaxes. These were warriors of death, standing guard through the ages deep within the rock of Grimwall, but whatever they had been in life, they hadn’t been human. They stood six-and-a-half feet tall, orange-red skins covered with dark reddish-brown hair. They had flat noses and chins, pointed ears, and sharp yellowed teeth. Worst of all, though their eyelids were closed, Makala had the impression that the desiccated things weren’t so much dead as sleeping.
“Magnificent, aren’t they?” Erdis Cai said. “There are twenty-five alcoves, each containing a squadron of eighty hobgoblin warriors.”
“Eighty?” Makala imagined one armored corpse standing behind another, and another and another… “That means there are—”
“Two thousand in all,” Erdis Cai said. The vampire lord’s voice held more emotion than Makala had heard since meeting him. He sounded excited, eager, almost like a small child impatient to open a long-anticipated present and start playing with it.
In the center of the chamber was a large circular pool full of a thick blackish substance that resembled pitch, though it didn’t have the acrid smell. This liquid gave off a coppery tang than seemed familiar to Makala, though she couldn’t identify it. There were four greenfire braziers in the chamber, set at regular intervals around the circumference of the pool. A narrow walkway stretched across the pool to the base of a stone dais engraved with strange runes located in the exact center of the chamber. The dais reminded Makala of the obsidian table in Emon Gorsedd’s Chamber of Joining, and she feared the comparison might be too close for comfort. Shallow channels less than a foot wide had been carved into the floor—twenty-five in all—running from the edge of the pool and extending beneath the feet of the dead hobgoblin warriors, and presumably beyond so that all two thousand were connected to the pool of black liquid. However, the channels were dry, for the surface of the ebon liquid didn’t quite reach up to floor level.
Then Makala realized that the substance in the pool wasn’t black. It only seemed so because of the eerie greenish light given off by the burning braziers. The liquid that filled the pool was red, because it was blood. Gallons and gallons of it.
“The goblinoid empire lasted for eleven thousand years,” Erdis Cai said, “but these warriors refused to perish along with their civilization. All two thousand of them sacrificed their lives so that they might enter into a state of living death, and here they have slumbered for centuries, waiting for the day when they would be called upon to fight once more.” A sly smile twisted Erdis Cai’s lips. “Of course, I’m sure they thought they’d be summoned to serve their own kind, but then death—just as life—is full of little surprises.”
Makala turned to Erdis Cai. “You intend to wake these… things?”
“Of course. It’s what I’ve been working toward for the last four decades, but I’m not doing it for myself.” He touched the blood-red symbol on his chest and bowed his head in reverence. “I’m doing it for Her.”
As if in response to the name, the blood within the pool bubbled for a moment then fell still.
Erdis Cai raised his head and when he looked at Makala, his crimson eyes gleamed with mad fervor. “Can you imagine it? The Black Fleet sailing under my command, holds filled with these warriors, all two thousand of them restored to life and ready to do whatever I ask of them. It shall be glorious!”
“Glorious? It’s appalling!”
Erdis Cai went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “The enchantment upon the warriors is a complicated one, however. In order to wake them, one life must be sacrificed for each warrior, and none shall so much as raise a hand until the two thousandth sacrifice has been completed.”
Makala stared at the nearly full pool with a sudden sick feeling. “How many…”
“One thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven,” Erdis Cai said matter-of-factly. “The magic of this chamber keeps the blood fresh, and a good thing, too, for it’s taken a long time to collect it all. We’ve had to be careful not to take too many candidates for sacrifice at a time, lest we anger the Lhazaar Princes enough to cause them to put aside their differences and come together to stop us. Not just anyone is suitable for sacrifice, otherwise we could’ve resurrected the warriors years ago. A sacrifice has to be a warrior as well, or at least possess the spirit of a warrior, but in and of itself, that isn’t enough. One must possess—”
“Strength and vitality,” Makala said as the awful implications of what Erdis Cai was saying began to sink in. “That’s what makes a person—” she took a deep breath—“worthy.”
Erdis Cai smiled, clearly pleased. “Precisely! That’s why you should honor your friend’s death. She gave her life so that we could identify the most important sacrifice of all.” The vampire lord’s smile stretched into a feral grin. “The last one.”
Makala felt light-headed and she feared she was on the verge of passing out. “But… you said you’d only sacrificed one thousand, nine hundred…”
“And ninety-seven,” Erdis Cai supplied. “That’s correct, but to make matters even more complicated, sacrifices can only be made during certain times of the month. We identified two other worthy ones several weeks ago, but we’ve been waiting for the next time of sacrifice to arrive before… using them. Luckily, we found you before that time, lass, so now we can sacrifice all three of you together and complete the rite at long last.�
�
“When?”
“Two night’s hence.”
“At midnight, I suppose.” Makala’s mind was working furiously. She couldn’t allow Erdis Cai to sacrifice her. It didn’t matter if she died, but she refused to allow her death to give Erdis Cai and his foul mistress control over an army of undead hobgoblin warriors.
“Half past, actually, though to be honest, I’d prefer midnight. It’s much more dramatic.”
Makala looked once more upon the blood pool. Erdis Cai had said a sacrifice didn’t count unless it was performed at the right time. If she died before that time…
She started running toward the pool, intending to throw herself in and drown, but Erdis Cai reached out with inhuman speed, caught hold of her hair and yanked her backward, bringing her to an abrupt and quite painful stop.
“Don’t make this any harder on yourself than it has to be,” the vampire lord said. “You should take consolation in knowing that your death shall serve a higher purpose, that you will play a pivotal role in the history of the Principalities. Who knows? Perhaps the history of Khorvaire and even all Eberron itself!”
“Some consolation,” Makala muttered.
She struggled to pull free of Erdis Cai’s grip, but it was no use. She made up her mind to yank her head away from his hand hard enough to tear her hair out by the roots, then she remembered what had happened when she’d touched her hand to Erdis Cai’s armor on the stairs.
Instead of pulling away from the vampire lord, Makala ran forward and threw her arms around him in a full body embrace. At first Erdis Cai just stood there, puzzled, then he roared with laughter.
“You’re trying to drain your own lifeforce by grabbing onto my armor! How clever! Since I’m aware of your contact, I can keep my armor from taking more than a minuscule amount of your energy. You could hold onto me like this for an entire week without experiencing more than mild fatigue.” He laughed again.
Swearing inwardly, Makala released her hold on Cai’s armor and made a grab for his black-handled sword, but the vampire caught her hand before it could get close to the hilt.
“I had hoped you might appreciate the dark majesty of my plan,” Erdis Cai said, sounding disappointed, “and perhaps even join us. I could use a woman with your spirit by my side, and I can find another sacrifice, even if it means waiting a bit longer to see my efforts come to fruition.”
Makala tried to pull free of the vampire’s grip, but it was no use. He was far too strong.
“I’d rather die than join you!” she said.
Erdis Cai looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Very well then.”
The vampire lord’s eyes began to glow with red flame. Makala tried to close her eyes, tried to turn her head, but she was unable to do either. She felt a great sleepiness coming over her, and though she struggled to stay awake, her efforts only made it worse. As her eyes closed, the last thing she saw Erdis Cai smiling at her.
“See you in two nights, lass. Rest well.”
Then her eyes closed all the way and she knew only darkness.
* * *
“There it is!” Hinto said, pointing. “Dreadhold!”
“Aren’t you supposed to say ‘Land ho’?” Ghaji asked, but the halfling just stared at him.
Ghaji, Diran, and Hinto stood at the Zephyr’s bow while Yvka sat in the pilot’s seat, steering the vessel and keeping the elemental active. Ghaji would’ve preferred to be back there with her, especially after their “rest break” in the cabin earlier, but he wasn’t on this voyage to enjoy himself, though he had, and quite a bit at that. He was here because he had a job to do, so he kept his gaze forward and took his first good look at the island prison of Dreadhold.
Ahead of them a desolate mass of rock rose out of the sea. On its surface was a forbidding stone fortress that looked as if it had grown out the rock instead of having been purposely constructed. Dreadhold was legendary throughout Khorvaire as the place where the most dangerous criminals were incarcerated, including a number imprisoned for wartime atrocities. The prison was managed by the dwarves of House Kundarak, which carried the Mark of Warding. House Kundarak contained two major organizations: the Banking Guild and the Warding Guild. It was the latter—experts in both magical and mundane security—that operated and maintained Dreadhold. The prison had the reputation for being inescapable, and it was easy to see why. The island itself was completely barren—no grass, no trees, not even any gulls in the vicinity. Thus if by some miracle a prisoner did manage to get out of the main cellhouse, there was nowhere to hide, making him or her an easy target for the archers stationed atop the cellhouse roof. In the extremely unlikely event an escapee made it to the shoreline alive, where would he or she go? The nearest land was Cape Far, miles to the south, and the water here was too cold to swim in for more than a few minutes without freezing. Add to that all the regular patrols of sailing vessels in the area whose task it was to keep potential escapees in and potential raiders out, and it was clear that Dreadhold’s fearsome reputation was well earned.
The main cellhouse was a long rectangular building two stories high without windows. The front entrance was the only way in or out of the prison—at least, that’s what Yvka had told them. Ghaji had a difficult time believing it, though. The warden and guards had to have an alternate means of getting out of the cellhouse in case of emergency, though such an exit was bound to be well hidden. Near the cellhouse was a walled-in enclosure that served as an exercise yard, and next to that stood a high water tower, also with archers stationed on a walkway circling the top. In front of the cellhouse entrance was a stone lighthouse, and not far from that was a small stone building that Yvka had said was the warder’s house. A larger building sat off to the side, though it was still only a quarter the size of the main cellhouse. These were the staff quarters, and downshore from there was the boat dock, though no craft were berthed at present. Probably to avoid providing any temptation for the prisoners to attempt escape, Ghaji thought.
“Everyone ready?” Yvka called out.
Ghaji looked at Diran, who’d been intently studying the layout of the island ever since it had come into view. Without looking at his half-orc companion, the priest nodded.
“As ready as we’re going to get!” Ghaji called back.
Yvka gave no spoken command or made no gesture, but the Zephyr angled toward the dock and surged across the slate-gray waves. As the island grew steadily closer, Hinto said, “Do you really think this is going to work?”
“I have no idea,” Diran answered. The priest looked down at the nervous halfling and smiled. “But we’ll soon find out.”
Hinto looked up at Ghaji for reassurance, but all the half-orc said was, “Welcome to my world.”
* * *
Yvka maneuvered the Zephyr into a berth and commanded the elemental to bring the vessel to a gentle stop. She then removed her hand from the arm of the pilot’s chair, and the elemental’s glow dimmed as the containment ring once more became nothing more than a circle of metal. Hinto vaulted over the starboard railing and landed on the dock. Ghaji tossed him a line, and the halfling quickly and skillfully tied the rope to an iron cleat bolted to the dock. He then moved over to the port side, and he and Ghaji repeated the procedure. Diran lowered the anchor.
When they were finished, Yvka unlocked a section of the railing on the starboard side and swung it inward. She then lowered a small gangplank and Hinto came back onboard. The four companions then stood in front of the gangplank as Diran and Ghaji made ready to depart.
“Be prepared to cast off at a moment’s notice,” Diran said. “If something goes wrong—”
“Which it usually does,” Ghaji interrupted.
“—we’ll need to make a swift departure,” Diran finished.
“Are you sure it’s wise to go ashore unarmed?” Yvka asked.
Ghaji had left his axe in the cabin, along with Diran’s cloak of daggers. Diran had several blades concealed in his boots; those were the only w
eapons between them.
“It’s better that we avoid any appearance of hostile intent,” Diran said. “Besides, a few more daggers and one axe wouldn’t be enough to help us against all the guards in Dreadhold.”
“I suppose not,” Yvka said, though she clearly wasn’t happy about it. Truth to tell, neither was Ghaji, but he knew it was a necessary precaution.
Hinto gave them a salute. “You can count on us, Captain! Try not to scowl so much, Greenie. You’ll put the guards into a worse mood than they already are.”
“Come here, Hinto,” Ghaji growled. “Let me give you a goodbye hug.”
The halfling took a step backward and half hid behind Yvka. “Thanks, but I’m not really one for hugging.”
“I am,” Yvka said, smiling at Ghaji. “Though perhaps this isn’t the best time or place.”
Ghaji felt his cheeks burning and Hinto laughed.
“Maybe I should start calling you Reddie!”
Diran took hold of Ghaji’s arm then, which is the only thing that saved Hinto from acquiring any number of broken bones.
“Let’s go, my friend,” Diran said. “Makala and the others are counting on us.”
Ghaji glared one last time at Hinto, gave Diran a nod, then they started down the gangplank. They’d barely set foot upon the dock before a dwarf came hurrying to them, a trio of guards following in his wake. The leader was no doubt the dockmaster, and he was clearly not pleased to see unexpected visitors to Dreadhold, but he’d only brought three guards with him, so it didn’t appear that he considered the Zephyrs crew much of a threat.
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