A fine grey powder coated everything in the cavern including the sorcerer. Azerick looked like an animated statue while the pile of treasure appeared to be an oddly shaped boulder. Azerick crossed the cavern to examine the passageway to the outside. His findings were not optimistic. Several feet in, rubble blocked the entire tunnel. From the amount of dust and the force of the cave-in, Azerick surmised that thousands of tons of stone, if not more, now choked off the entire passage.
Azerick cast the spell he had used to bring the boulder perched above the cave entrance down onto the dragon’s neck. Several square yards of stone turned to little more than dust in an instant. A second rumbling sounded and more stone fell into the opened passage, blocking it off once more and sending another cloud of dust into Azerick’s face. He sighed in exasperation at his failure.
“I probably would have died of thirst before I could tunnel all the way out anyway,” he muttered to himself.
He circled the large chamber and examined the walls in search of another way out. Fortune smiled upon him for once. He found a small crevice from which he could feel a faint breeze. Azerick cast his excavation spell once more, and the crevice became a passage large enough for him to crawl through. Just as he had hoped, the crevice opened into a large enough to negotiate.
Azerick returned to the main chamber and examined the treasures piled high near the back wall. He found his books, including the large, ancient tome, and his scrolls near the top of the pile. He dropped the scrolls, still safely rolled into their scroll tubes, into his pack. He picked up the large tome, blew off the thick layer of dust, and began flipping through its yellowed pages for a particular passage he had studied before. He sat upon a dust-covered pile of coins and began studying the pages before him.
After two hours of careful research, he picked up his short spear and channeled raw magical power into its steel head. The metal glowed orange, and a faint nimbus of eldritch energy limned its shape. Azerick began drawing a series of runes in the stone floor all around the pile of treasure as easily as if it were wet clay. Once he felt his work was complete, he compared his work to that shown in the book and felt confident it would do. He cast another spell, and the magical sigils glowed faintly for a moment then subsided.
Careful not to step on his work, Azerick filled a pouch with gold and silver coins and several cut gems. He packed the precious tome into his pack and crawled through the exit he had created, leaving behind the large chamber and its treasure. Once he gained the natural cave beyond the magically carved exit, he cast his excavation spell once more and caused the small passage to collapse, sealing off the treasure chamber once more.
“Great, I’m in a tunnel again,” he muttered to himself, something he was doing more and more frequently.
Azerick was confident it would not take him nearly as long to find the surface as it had when he and the others had escaped from their captivity and forced servitude. He knew he was only a few hundred feet from the outside—laterally. As the floor of the cave continued to slope down, guiding him deeper beneath the mountain and farther from the surface, his confidence began to wane. When the second day of his spelunking came and passed, he began to feel downright nervous.
His water was nearly gone, and his food was running short. To make matters worse, the tunnel he was traversing was growing smaller and smaller until he was forced to crawl on his hands and knees. It did not take long before the knees of his trousers were rubbed through and the skin beneath was worn raw.
Azerick pulled a heavy shirt out of his pack and tore it into strips he then wound around his hands and knees to protect them from the coarse, flesh-scouring rock. The tunnel became so narrow he was forced to remove his pack and push it along ahead of him.
“How in the abyss dwarves can stand living like this day in and day out all their long lives without going stark raving mad is beyond me,” he said to surrounding grey stone.
“Oh we get used to it pretty quick and rather enjoy it. Then again, maybe we’re all just stark raving mad,” answered a gruff voice to what was supposed to have been a rhetorical question.
Azerick wriggled around until he was on his back and looked up into several short, wide bodies with prominent potato noses and thick, scruffy beards. The one who had answered grinned down at him. His white teeth shined in Azerick’s magical light through his thick beard and moustache. Azerick returned the grin, but before he could form a greeting, the dwarf’s heavy boot came down onto his head and sent stars blazing across a field of blackness.
Two of the stout dwarves reached down and dragged the human intruder the rest of the way out of the small tunnel from which his head had emerged rather unexpectedly. The mining crew had just arrived at the cavern to begin their day of chipping away at the rock walls in search of a new vein of ore or minerals when they noticed Azerick’s light glinting out of the small chute at the end.
Azerick had a peculiar feeling of weightlessness as he swung slightly from side to side. The next thing he noticed was that his wrists burned and his ankles felt constricted. He tried to mutter a curse and realized that a thick braid of cloth had been tied around his head and ran between his jaws like a horse’s bit. Azerick opened his eyes and found his wrists and ankles bound together and looped around a long timber being carried on the broad shoulders of two of the stout dwarves.
I really need to stop getting hit in the head before I end up with brain damage, Azerick thought to himself.
“Looks like our young trespasser is wakin’ up, Togar,” one of the dwarves called out to the dwarf leading the small group.
Azerick looked around and saw there were four of the short, burly creatures. One was several yards ahead, two carried him like a fresh kill from a hunt, and one followed a few yards behind. The one they called Togar wheeled about and strode toward Azerick’s hog-tied form.
“As ye can see, wizard, we dwarves don’t take too kindly to trespassers,” the dwarf said with the same wide grin he wore just before he had kicked Azerick in the head.
Azerick tried to protest that he was not a wizard and he did not intend to trespass, but all that came out was a stream of unintelligible mumblings.
“That’s right, we know what ye are, though ye don’t look much like a wizard.” Togar pointed waved Azerick’s scroll case in front of his face. “I thought all you wizards wore those big fluffy dresses. I never seen one carrying a spear neither. Of course, who can say? All you wizards are half mad anyhow.”
Azerick rolled his eyes and tried to protest once again.
“What are we goin’ to do with ye?” Togar interpreted. “Hard to say just yet, but I can tell ye I’m mighty hungry. Can’t raise cattle under a mountain ye know, and I need my meat.”
Azerick’s eyes went round for a second, but fortunately, the other dwarves sniggered at what must have been an attempt at a joke. Togar flashed Azerick another bright, big-toothed grin and resumed his lead as the dwarves moved out once more.
Azerick’s wrists seriously chafed and ached from bearing much of his weight. He tried to shift his weight to relieve some of the pressure on his wrists and restore at least a moment of circulation to them.
“Stop your squirming, or we’ll drop you on your head.”
Just as his bearers seemed to be getting ready to make good on their threat, a sharp crack was followed by the crashing of stone and a large cloud of dust erupting from just ahead. When the dust cleared, Togar was nowhere to be seen. In his place was a mound of rubble completely blocking the passage ahead. The dwarves bearing Azerick dropped the unfortunate sorcerer painfully to the ground and raced forward, calling out to their lost comrade.
“Togar!” the dwarf called Roran shouted at the pile of rock blocking the passage.
The dwarves took their picks to the stone with wild abandon in an effort to rescue Togar. Strong stubby fingers pulled out stones the size of a dwarf’s head and tossed them carelessly behind them.
Azerick was forced to roll around to avoid being struck by som
e of the wildly tossed stones. Some of the rocks blocking the passage were the size of boulders and weighed several tons or more. Sharp flecks of stone flew in all directions as the dwarf-forged steel rang against the resilient barrier like the peeling of bells.
Azerick tried unsuccessfully to spit the wad of cloth out of his mouth. He closed his eyes and turned his focus toward the Source with all his will. The sorcerer found and channeled the Source easily enough, but lacking the use of his hands and mouth, forming the magical energies into a useful form was arduous.
The sorcerer had practiced shaping the Source without the verbal or somatic hand gestures but never both at the same time. In fact, he was not at all certain it was even possible. He bent his considerable will into the task and was amazed at the amount of effort it took to form what should have been an extraordinarily simple casting. The slightest distraction or errant thought flashing through his mind tore the weave apart like a spider web in a windstorm and forced him to start all over again.
Sweat beaded on his brow, and his breathing grew labored as he bent the Source to his will. Azerick was ready to give up the task as hopeless when he felt the cloth loosen in his mouth. He redoubled his efforts and gritted his teeth until spots began forming before his eyes from the strain, and the binding holding the wadded cloth in his mouth finally came free.
Azerick forced the gag from his mouth with his tongue. “Untie me and I can get to your friend!” Azerick shouted over the ringing of steel hammering against stone.
One of the dwarves stomped toward him with his pick raised menacingly. “Shut up, wizard!” he snarled. “We have enough trouble on our hands without ye casting any of your foul sorceries about!”
“I can get your friend out a lot faster than you can. Are you going to let him die because of your distrust and stubbornness?”
The dwarf looked uneasy at the prospect of releasing a magic user, the most distrusted and disliked members of any race, but he knew it would take hours to reach Togar with the tools they had.
“I give you my word, on the soul of my dead wife, I will not cast any magic or take any actions against you or any dwarf who does not intend to do me harm.”
The dwarf dropped his pick, pulled a knife from his belt, and cut the cords binding Azerick’s ankles and wrists to the pole. “Ye had better not betray us, wizard, or their will be no magic nor gods that will keep ye safe from our wrath.”
Azerick stood and promptly fell down again as blood raced back into his starved extremities. The sorcerer propped himself up on his knees on his knees, not trusting his near-lifeless feet to hold him up, and began casting his spell. His hands rebelled against his casting nearly as much as his feet thwarted his attempt to stand, but he concentrated and took his time to form the invisible sigil properly.
“I don’t know anything about mining, so tell me which stones to remove. The last time I tried this, I nearly buried myself,” Azerick told the dwarf.
Roran grunted at the mage. “Typical. Start with that big one on top.”
The moment he uttered the spell’s command word, the passage became clouded in grey dust. The dwarf continued instructing Azerick as to which rocks to pulverize.
“Togar, are ye there?” Roran called out and walked slowly forward, trying to wave away the dust to clear his vision.
“Aye, I’m here,” Togar’s voice sounded from the darkness.
“Damn, Togar, I thought ye was squished into paste for sure when ye didn’t answer!”
“Yeah, I heard ye, Roran, but I had a rock on my back. And it had me scrunched so tight I could hardly breathe much less holler.”
“Are ye all right then?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I got lucky that the boulders around me propped up the one pinning me to the ground. I guess I got hit with the family curse.”
Roran raised a bushy eyebrow. “What curse is that?”
“Had a cousin o’ mine named Borik Deepstone. He got caught under a cave-in years back. It took us three days to dig him out. When we finally got to him, he was half-mad. Said he heard and seen the ghosts of dwarves who had been killed in the tunnels from ages past. A few days later, he said he couldn’t take living here no more and left. Ain’t seen nor heard of him since.”
“You ain’t gonna run off now too are ye?”
“Nah, I’m made of sterner stuff than that. Besides, Borik always was a bit of an odd one. I see the wizard’s loose. What happened?”
“It was him who got ya out. He gave me his word he wouldn’t do nothin’ but get ya out so long as none tries to do for him,” Roran informed Togar.
Togar turned to face Azerick and looked him up and down. “I guess I owe ye my life, wizard. I suppose I can let ye walk the rest the way like a man, so long as you keep to your word.”
“I am not a wizard, I’m a sorcerer. What happens to me when we get to wherever we are going?”
“Sorcerer, wizard, what’s the difference? Never mind, it probably won’t make no sense to me anyhow. As far as what happens to ye, I guess that’ll be up to Duncan to decide. He’ll know what to do with your type. Worst comes to worst we’ll put ye out at some distant gate and let ye go wherever it is ye want to go, so long as it’s away from our tunnels.”
“I guess I cannot ask for more than that. It’s certainly better than being eaten.”
“So what’s a wizard doin’ down in our tunnels anyway?” Togar asked.
Azerick was hesitant to tell the dwarves about the dragon, and even more so about the treasure hoard. “I was seeking refuge in a cave when the entrance collapsed. I was too far in, and the cave was too unstable for me to try to burrow my way out magically. I found a small cave at the rear of the cavern and hoped it would lead me out.”
The dwarves nodded their heads. “This mountain range is very old, and this section in particular is notoriously unstable, and it just gets worse the farther you go in the direction you came from. I guess I should go ahead and make introductions seeing as how you saved my life and all. That there is Dornan Bournegre, Roran Ironarm, and Kragnar Stonebiter,” Togar said, pointing at each dwarf in turn.
“Let me guess, you are Togar Skullcrusher.” Azerick rubbed his head where the dwarf had kicked him.
Togar and the other dwarves laughed loudly. “Deepstone, but hey, maybe I’ll change my name!”
The previously taciturn dwarves, although not talkative, were far more jovial than they had been earlier. It took Azerick very little prodding to get Togar talking about the mountains and mining, but he was very tightlipped regarding the dwarves or their home. Azerick asked who Duncan Runecarver was, but Togar was equally evasive on that matter as well, telling him that he would meet him when they got to where they were going.
After what seemed like two days of traveling, although Togar said it had been only a few hours, Azerick spied a soft azure glow up ahead. The human’s jaw dropped in wonderment when they stepped out of the tunnel and onto a high ledge.
The tunnel ended in a cavern of enormous proportions. It was at least half a mile wide and several times that in length. The starry night sky showed through an oval opening at about two hundred yards across and hundreds of feet over their heads. The upper reaches of the walls were quickly lost in darkness, but Azerick could imagine the aperture resting atop the conical walls of an ancient, hopefully dormant, volcano.
Along both sides of the walls for as far as he could see were numerous terraced levels with open, arched doorways carved into the sides of the cavern from which more soft-glowing light emanated. Through many of the doorways, a warmer orange glow radiated out into the expansive cavern. Far below him, directly under the distant opening to the sky was what appeared to be small mountain peak over two hundred feet tall and three times as wide at its base. It was a mountain inside a mountain. More stone archways were carved all along its surface, some illuminated in the same soft blue glow while others were visible by only by the deeper blackness of unlit chambers.
The sound of hammers ringing on steel a
nd numerous rough, deep voices echoed throughout the vast expanse. Azerick watched in fascination as short, dark silhouettes scurried about like bipedal ants performing their daily tasks.
As the small group descended to the cavern floor by way of a long ramp carved into the side of the cavern, Azerick saw that the blue glow providing much of the subterranean illumination was created by glass globes filled with a blue liquid. These globes were hung throughout the cavern like oil lamps.
Most dwarves stopped and looked as he and his escorts made their way toward the conical monolith. They entered one of the stone archways at the base of the massive, conical structure and walked up a long, spiraling stairway circling the entire structure on its inexorable rise to the top. The trek was long and quickly became rather arduous.
“These stairs must be terrible if there is ever an emergency or a need to get to the bottom quickly,” Azerick said.
“Naw, if we ever need to move quickly, like in the case of defense or some such, we have faster ways of getting down.” Togar pointed out the steel poles Azerick had mistaken for some kind of structural support. “In times of emergency, or just expediency, we slide down the poles. They run through openings in the floors and ceilings for five levels, then you another pole down until you reached the floor.
“What if you wanted to go up?” Azerick asked.
“There’s an elevating platform we use for heavy freight, or if we just don’t feel like walking.”
“If you have a lift, why in the abyss did we walk miles of stairs?”
“I thought ye might care for the scenic route.” Togar grinned mischievously. “Besides, it don’t bother me none, and I get a kick outta watchin’ ye sweat cause of a little work.”
Azerick rolled his eyes at the dwarf’s peculiar sense of humor, but he kept his mouth shut and continued climbing the stairs without further complaint. By the time they arrived at their destination near the top of the spire, Azerick was winded and soaked in sweat.
“Hey, Duncan! I brought ye a present from one o’ the mines,” Togar called through the open archway.
The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4 Page 56
