As Gregarr fell into silent thought, his troops around him began mumbling and whispering to each other many different reasons the Horg’s might have fled the cavern. Gregarr paid no heed to any of them, but thought hard, staring into the cold rock walls surrounding him. To his infrared vision, all appeared dark. Only the bodies of the soldiers glowed in his aimless sight.
Suddenly, a thought rushed into Gregarr’s mind. He turned again to the scout who had brought the news, “Are there more passages that break off from this one?”
The scout hesitated before answering. “Yes, as far as my knowledge goes.”
“They could have possibly taken a different route!” Gregarr said excitedly.
“But sir,” the scout but in before he could go further, “this is the only passage in these tunnels that leads to Grundagg. The only other passage leads to the second level, where Swildagg and Vulzdagg lie. If they were going in a different direction, they’d be heading for them and not us.”
“Perhaps Grundagg was never the Branch in danger from these Horg’s in the first place,” another anonymous speaker said from the ranks behind Gregarr.
“Let’s not make any assumptions just yet,” Gregarr said, raising a hand to quiet the rising voices. “Grundagg is not safe even if the Horg’s travel someplace unknown to us. It is better to be sure than to assume.”
With that, Gregarr turned toward the passage and signaled the troops to follow as he went foreword briskly to see the cavern for himself. The troops did as commanded by their captain, and went on through the passage until they came to a halt within a wide chamber.
It was emptied, as the scout had reported, and it appeared to be a hasty leave. The crumbled stalactite still blocked the passage before them; from when Fustua shattered it with his body during that desperate hour. The cavern, though, smelled freshly of Horg, and if you had ever smelled Horg you would know how unbearable the stench was for The Followers. But, despite the battle that took place in the cavern, no dead Horg’s were to be seen.
“They were indeed here no more than an hour ago,” a warrior said, shielding his nose with his palm.
Gregarr ignored the powerful odor as he searched the cavern, looking upwards at the high ceiling, and could see clearly where was reported the Horg’s entry down. He was puzzled in the thought of their exit.
“They must have climbed out,” Gregarr said to himself. “The passage there is blocked by the fallen stalactite.” He examined the broken rock formation with furrowed brows. “They must have climbed out through the ceiling.”
He looked up again upon the ceiling, and thought briefly to climb when one of those among his company spoke from across the room. “Look here!” the warrior exclaimed, having discovering something. “I’ve found their possible way out!”
The warrior was standing at the mouth of the passage they had entered through, and was facing the left wall. Only there wasn’t a wall. A tunnel went steeply down for an unknown distance. Gregarr looked down, the others crowding behind to look over his shoulder.
“I’ve never seen this passage charted anywhere,” the scout said, coming to stand beside Gregarr.
“That’s because it was made recently, and not by our hands,” Gregarr said, examining the edges of the tunnel. “Neither was it a Horg… Magic, most probably.”
“Magic,” a few of The Followers whispered in wonderment.
“It was either melted or blasted by some form of magic,” Gregarr explained. “They must have a mage among them.”
“This will prove ill for us all!” someone from behind exclaimed.
“No need to fear,” Gregarr quickly assured them, desperate to keep his soldiers in high spirits. “Horg’s are not known as the most skilled with magic craft. Only minor spells can they really carry out. There shouldn’t be any problem dealing with them.”
The group made no movement, or spoke, but Gregarr could tell he had done a little to lift them from their fear of this unknown mage. He, himself, wasn’t entirely sure of what kind of mage it was, but could only hope his words were true.
Gregarr stepped into the tunnel and prepared himself for the drop. “We mustn’t waste time when Horg’s are on the run,” he said before sliding down the smoothly cut tunnel into the passage it opened into.
Looking down the dark passage made Gregarr doubt even his own predictions of the mage type, but he knew he had to have courage in order for his troops to maintain theirs. And so they followed him at a brisk pace.
*****
It seemed like hour passed after hour as the soldiers of Grundagg ran briskly through a narrow and more or less straight tunnel. It went at an upwards angle, and all The Followers among the company could have guessed where it would lead them with that understanding. They were correct when Gregarr led his troops out into the main cavern of the higher level of the Shadow Realm, where they knew the Vulzdagg and the Swildagg Branches lay.
Above them rose the cliffs of steep rock and stalagmite that formed the Swildagg valley, where upon the high rocky mountainous land rose the citadel tower. That land was dark and mysterious, and looking up into the steep cliffs Gregarr and his soldiers could see little with their infrared vision. Turning towards the path of their destination, they saw a forest of stalagmite rising before them like an army of stone. Somewhere before them they knew to be the crack; the pathway down into the lower level of their realm.
“Onward we must go,” Gregarr commanded his men, silently, so not to alert any enemies that he feared might leap out from behind any of the stalagmites on either side.
Gregarr took the first steps forward, and his comrades followed behind gingerly but eagerly.
The path Gregarr picked took them in a more or less straight direction as in the passage now behind them in the shadows, and around the corners of each stalagmite they passed The Followers peered to be sure no Horg or other deadly monster lurked in wait for their passing, to snatch them up with powerful claws. Too many deaths by hidden monsters were known throughout the realm. Some caused by other Followers themselves, while others were from monsters beyond reckoning.
The stalagmite forest was much smaller than they had anticipated, and so before they knew it they were standing at the edge of the crack. A far drop into darkness lay at their feet in a five or so foot gap of nothing.
“They must have gone to Vulzdagg,” Gregarr breathed quietly. “No creature has ever climbed the slopes of Swildagg, and no Horg will ever have the skill to do so.”
“Hearing how they climbed down upon the patrol in the cavern proves to me that they could have done so,” Razbaar said, one of Gregarr’s most trusted warriors.
“There is more to the slopes of Swildagg than just slippery rock,” said Gregarr. “Besides, we have not the skill to climb such a cliff, and therefore we must go to Vulzdagg and investigate that city, if not any. The lord and the lady have had their suspicions of the Horg’s grouping with either of the Branches of the great Urden’Dagg Tree.”
“If you feel to enter Vulzdagg, then let it be so,” said Razbaar in acceptance of the notion. “Your decision, my captain, is all of ours.”
“But how shall we cross the chasm?” another Follower asked from the ranks behind.
“To leap is indeed risky,” Razbaar put in as he looked down the deep chasm at their feet.
“Such risks must be taken,” Gregarr said to them all, then steadying his position at the edge of the precipice he prepared himself for the jump.
The soldier all held their breath as they watched as their captain prepared for a leap over the dark abyss before them, but as he was thus going to attempt the distance; a great boom shook the air and was soon followed by many more booms that repeated in great echoes, continuing for a long period of time.
Looking across the chasm and toward the borders of Vulzdagg, the infrared spectrum blurred with great bursts of heat amongst the cold stones scattered there.
“The mushrooms of Vulzdagg have caught an unfortunate creature in their grove!” excla
imed a warrior.
“Perhaps the Horg’s have met their fate,” Razbaar said, looking at Gregarr, who stood motionless at the foot of the drop.
Gregarr relaxed his stance, and looked across the crack to the mess of heat rising in great bursts that grew more and more with each explosion. He frowned in private thought before speaking again.
“Perhaps,” he began, “or perhaps some other unfortunate soul has met his or her doom.” Turning to his soldiers he said, “We shall not yet cross the gorge. For now we wait for some sign that it is indeed necessary for us to do so.”
*****
Juanna, Fustua, and Yaldaa, levitated slowly upwards to the rim of the deep chasm that bridged the lower and higher levels of the Shadow Realm. As she reached the edge of the precipice, Juanna took hold of the rock before canceling her ascent. She hoisted herself up to stand upon solid ground once again. Though she enjoyed the feeling of floating, Juanna felt much more comfortable with her feet firmly planted on the earth.
As Fustua and Yaldaa both came up beside her; Juanna looked to the grove of mushrooms that they would now have to cross through toward Vulzdagg.
“First, since we are on this side of the crack, we shall pay a friendly visit to Vulzdagg,” said Juanna. She looked about her to be sure no unfriendly eyes were watching, and then began walking slowly toward the grove of mushrooms. “The only danger that stands between us is the Vulzdagg grove. These mushrooms can, and will, explode if disturbed. Be careful not to touch or get too close to any of them.”
Fustua and Yaldaa both nodded. They all knew well the danger such mushrooms could bring; but danger never stopped them before, so moving into their midst was an easy feat.
Fustua and Yaldaa followed without a sound behind their leader. The path was carefully picked by Juanna, and she took them through the widest trails that could be found. However, in the gloom of the darkness ahead, they could see the walls of stalagmite rising before them, marking the city of Vulzdagg. Juanna was not entirely sure how she would come about to discover anything from Vulzdagg, but thought she might just let it slide as they went. This, however, and she knew it, was not the wisest idea. But she cared little for her duty, wanting only to slay Mazoroth.
They halted several yards from the stalagmite walls of Vulzdagg, and crouched among the stones that were heaped about in great clusters. Peering over the boulders, they saw with their infrared vision the gate of the city a good distance to their left.
“Nothing unnatural happening here,” Fustua grumbled, not liking his duty any more than Juanna.
Juanna looked about the area round them. “One cannot be too sure,” she said, “But we’ll check the borders of Swildagg, and if nothing unordinary is happening there, we shall return to Grundagg.”
The others agreed, and so they turned from the walls of Vulzdagg and went back through the grove of mushrooms, hoping to end their duty as quickly as possible. But before they reached the far end of the grove, there came to their keen ears the sound of many heavy feet plodding along to their right. The three Followers halted and listened intently to the sound, and gazing beyond the many mushrooms Yaldaa caught sight of the troop of monsters approaching the gate.
“Horg’s,” Yaldaa mouthed to Juanna.
Fustua withdrew his shield from off his back and slipped his arm through the straps. Then turning toward Juanna he waited for further orders as she gazed off into the distant mushrooms, trying to pick out the Horg’s from the armed plants.
The Horg’s went silently through the mushrooms, twenty yards or so from the three soldiers of Grundagg, and avoided the thick stumps that they knew to be unwise to touch or bump into. Somewhere in the ranks of those Horg’s, however, Juanna knew to be Mazoroth, and that ensuing thought drove her to the actions she took next.
Juanna glanced at Yaldaa and motioned to her crossbow. “Aim near the center of the company,” she instructed in the quietest whisper.
Yaldaa shouldered her crossbow and knocked a dart into the weapon, aiming steadily toward a mushroom the Horg’s were passing by. And then, taking in a deep breath of the warm air round them, Yaldaa closed her index finger over the trigger and the dart was launched from the weapon with a quiet whistle.
Seconds later the dart made contact with the mushroom’s stump, and the Horg’s closest looked briefly at the dart protruding from the mushroom, not yet realizing their fate. It shuddered before exploding; taking many Horg’s up into a cloud of flames that erupted from within the mushroom.
As one mushroom went off, taking with it a part of the Horg troop, others began to release their flames in great explosions that blinded the sensitive eyes of the creatures. Slowly at first the fiery bombs went off, and then rapidly as the disturbance spread.
Juanna saw their fate soon after the fourth mushroom went up in pieces, and turning to her comrades she cried over the eruption of the bombs, “Flee friends! Run out of this grove!”
With those words, the three of them fled from where they stood as quickly as they could, careful not to bump into any mushroom themselves. Fustua led the way, holding his shield before his face to protect himself from any impending outbursts that might hurl chunks of mushroom or rock into him.
But before they reached the end of the grove, a Horg was thrown into the air by the force of an explosion, and was hurled into a nearby mushroom. Disturbed, the mushroom shuddered from top to bottom before releasing its inner energy in a single explosion of both flames and rocks that came raining down over the retreating Followers. Fustua promptly lifted his shield over his head, and flinched at every hard thump that rattled his arm when a piece fell upon it.
Behind him Yaldaa was hit only with small stones that did little less than bruise her skin, but Juanna was not so lucky. A sharp stone was hurled into the air by the force of the explosion, and it came into Juanna’s side, breaking the mail shirt that she wore to be thrust into her side.
She cried out in pain and fell onto her knees in agony. Both Yaldaa and Fustua turned in the direction of their captain’s cry, and together they hurried to her side.
“Yaldaa, go!” Fustua cried from behind her, “I shall see to her!”
Yaldaa hesitated a moment, then turned and passed Fustua as he approached Juanna.
“Save yourself!” Juanna coughed as he knelt beside her. “Leave me! I will only delay your own survival!”
Ignoring her, Fustua looped one arm round her and lifted her gently. Dropping his shield, he wrapped his free arm under her legs and lifted his captain from the broken stones. Then, slowly and uneasily at first, he carried her through the impending outbursts surrounded them.
Once a stone bounced off Fustua’s head, and he faltered only for a moment, but regaining his strength he continued through the destruction as quickly as his weight would allow. The screams of the doomed Horg’s still continued to fill the air, and The Followers did not doubt that Vulzdagg had been roused by the tumult outside their walls. Even as the thought came to their minds, the alarm sounded as a ringing bell that alerted the Vulzdagg troops into a panicked commotion.
The task of Juanna and her companions had been fulfilled. The Mazar’s plan was foiled.
Once reaching safety at a good distance from the grove, Fustua stumbled, beaten and worn by the burden he carried in his arms, but proud of his own actions. He set Juanna lightly upon the rocks before falling beside her.
Yaldaa crouched over Juanna, and examined her captains wound. “It is unlucky that the sharpest of stones pierces your body,” Yaldaa said gravely. She took hold of the end of the stone, and even the touch made Juanna clench her fists and groan.
“It must be removed,” Yaldaa told her.
“Then do so! And make it quick!” Juanna replied in pained anxiety.
Yaldaa took the deadly rock in both hands. Glancing once into the face of Juanna with a breath of anxiety herself, she pulled with all her strength and the stone came free. Warm blood caked over its end, and surged from her torn side.
Juanna crie
d in pain once more, and squeezed the forearm of Fustua who lay beside her. Standing upon his knees, Fustua quickly tore a piece of his cloak and wrapped it round the wound of Juanna, tightening it into a knot so that the blood would not escape as quickly.
“Quickly!” he cried as he lifted her once again into his arms, “We must reach Grundagg before the wound becomes infected!”
Yaldaa led the way back toward the crack, Fustua carrying the groaning Juanna in his arms. Here they stopped, and Fustua looked down with despair.
“We shall never get Juanna down in such a state as this!” Fustua said behind gritted teeth.
Yaldaa suddenly dropped into a crouch and lifted her crossbow toward the opposite side. A troop of The Followers, armed as for battle, approached from across the crack. Gregarr of Grundagg was at the head of the company, and he raised a hand in a signal of peace.
“Who goes there?” Gregarr asked from where he stood opposite them, lowering his hand to rest over the hilt of his blade.
“Yaldaa, of Grundagg,” Yaldaa replied, “And here also is Fustua and Juanna! She is captain of the patrols, and has been mortally wounded by the Mazar’s in an ambush we laid upon them in the grove of Vulzdagg!”
“This is grave news indeed!” said Gregarr. “Come to the far side where you might cross easily! Here there is a passage cut by the Mazar’s themselves, no doubt; and by a mage too!”
Fustua followed the edge of the crack to where the opposite ends grew close together enough for a leap. A foot or so Fustua would need to jump in order to reach the other side safely, and with Juanna in his arms as well.
With great effort, Fustua attempted the jump, and landed hard on the other side. He would have fallen with Juanna in his arms if it wasn’t for the arms of Gregarr’s company that caught him as he landed. Soon after came Yaldaa, and a lot easier was her landing without needing support or great effort to even make the leap.
Gregarr then appointed his tunnel scout to lead them back to the secret passage they found beneath the mountains of Swildagg, and they went hastily.
Shadow Realms: Part One of the Redemption Cycle Page 17
