by D. M. Almond
Isaac worked his hand around in a circle, lightly brushing against the vines, and then whistled in delight. He rapped the tip of his staff against the spot, and the light disappeared entirely, slipping into the mountain like a phantom.
“Here it is!” he intoned gleefully. “Come cut away these weeds so that we may see it more clearly.”
Logan flicked open Gandiva, the mystical boomerang the mage had gifted him, and used it as a bludgeoning tool to hack away the thin tendrils of vine alongside Corbin, who swiped his voulge across the tuberous plants. Within minutes they had a pile of vines around their feet. More than once Corbin hit with enough force to create a flash of small sparks as the voulge ran across the impenetrable surface of the mountain.
“Careful now,” Isaac begged, “we don’t want to damage any of it.”
Logan snorted. “As if we could hurt a mountain.”
“It’s not the stone I’m worried about,” the mage corrected, “but what is etched on it.”
Logan and his brother stepped back to appreciate their handiwork. They had cleaned off a large section of the rocky wall, which looked more like a proper mountainside now that most of the plants were removed. However, other than patches of blue-green lichen, there was nothing else for them to see. Logan didn’t know what he had expected, maybe the outline of a door or some sort of locking mechanism to present itself, but the mountainside was bare.
“I don’t get it,” Logan said. “Did you make a mistake? Are we in the wrong place?”
Isaac smiled shrewdly and gestured for Logan to step aside. The mage said something incomprehensible and tapped his staff against the wall. A gong resounded, like the staff had hit something metal and hollow. When Isaac pulled his implement away, it was with deep care. Slowly ringlets of the powdery white light came out of the wall, pulled away like water being sucked up by the ivory staff. Except each place from whence the light pulled remained glowing. Slowly, intricate lines formed over the dull surface, revealing an image with writing around it.
The outline of two oversized doors stood side by side, forming one large, perfect circle sliced down the middle. Over their surface, the glowing words formed a semi arc.
“What language is that?” Logan asked, unable to take his eyes off the spectacle.
“I have no record of this script in my database,” Nero said.
“None I’ve ever seen either,” Bipp said with a sober expression.
“I should expect not, good gnome,” Isaac said, stepping back to take in the images that were still forming.
“Wait, is that—?” Corbin asked.
Logan nodded. “I think so.”
The lines of light connected to depict a squat dwarf with a long, forked beard and barrel chest. He stood with his hands held high in the air. One grasped a blacksmith’s hammer and the other a broken sword. About the dwarf’s head was a crown, and two hands parted the clouds above him, reaching down to accept the offerings.
Isaac mumbled to himself as his fingers traced the air, following the pattern of words.
“Can you read that?” Logan asked the mage.
In response, Isaac’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he began speaking in a hard language that sounded like rhythmic notes being beaten against an anvil. When he finished the translation, the wall began to tremble and quake.
Logan took a nervous step to the side and watched anxiously as the round entranceway became real, deep grooves running in perfect lines down the mountain. Once they were formed, the doors pushed inward and swung to either side, revealing a long, dark chamber.
When they looked back at Isaac, his eyes had returned to their normal state, and he stood there, grinning proudly at the companions.
“Well, gentlemen, shall we go see how much of those dwarf stories are a fairytale now?”
Chapter 3
The entrance to Miradùr was wide enough to drive a cart through and as dark as the deepest shadows. The latter was particularly disconcerting to Logan, as he had never experienced the feeling of not being able to see something—anything—in the dark. Growing up in an underground land had conditioned his eyes to see in dark tunnels where no source of light existed.
“Perhaps now would be an appropriate time to remove the dweomer I cast over your eyes?” Isaac said.
Logan had completely forgotten the mage cast a spell over them to allow the Falians to see on the surface without needing the uncomfortable and cumbersome goggles Kyra had provided. He found it somewhat ironic that they needed the mage’s help to see on the surface, and now they needed his help again to see below.
Isaac moved from one of them to the next, removing the dweomer. As he pulled his hand away from Logan, it felt like a veil was lifted from his face. His eyes immediately began to sting, and tears welled up in the corners.
“Hurry now,” Isaac said, “step inside the tunnel before Themis blinds you completely.”
Blinking and rubbing his eyes, Logan stepped awkwardly into the dark opening. “Still can’t see in here,” he grumbled.
“Just because the spell is gone does not mean your eyes are back to normal quite yet,” Isaac said. “It will take a little while for them to adjust. Until then, we will be stuck to the old-fashioned method for cave exploration.”
Nero unrolled a tunic they had tied around a tight bundle of wood, and Corbin brought out a jar of linseed oil. While Logan cut away strips of the worn tunic, his brother soaked them in the oil and helped Nero carefully wrap the branches. Once they were done, he handed one to each party member except Isaac, who already had a glow around his staff to help light his way.
The four torches together cast enough light for them to see the walls, which were wide and tall. Logan expected to see some elaborate statues lining the entranceway, like the gnomish ruins of Ul’kor, but they were blank. Other than being massive, the entranceway was quite unimpressive, simply made by carving and smoothing the stone into a perfect arc.
“No human has walked these halls in millennia,” Isaac said quietly, his soft voice echoing down the chamber into a larger room beyond.
“How can you be so sure?” Corbin asked.
“Master Siurus taught me as much,” Isaac said. “After these halls were abandoned, none would dare come here, fearing the curse, of course.”
“Curse?” Bipp squeaked. “No one said nothing about a curse.”
“That’s because there’s no such thing,” Isaac replied. “Just the overblown fear of ordinary folk trying to rationalize how an entire city of dwarves could disappear overnight.”
“Hate to tell you this,” Logan said, lowering his torch to illuminate the dusty cobblestone floor, “but I’m betting there’s at least one person who would disagree with that claim.”
The companions followed his gaze to find a set of footprints left in the dust. Isaac studied them carefully, rubbing his white goatee thoughtfully.
“Certainly something has been in this hall before us,” Isaac said. “By the looks of these, I would say it was fairly recent too.”
“‘Something’? Not sure I like the sound of that,” Logan said.
Corbin nodded in agreement with the mage. “Look closer. The tracks are humanoid, no doubt about that, and they are from an intelligent creature. Why else would they be wearing shoes?”
“But?”
“They’re too wide to be human and far too large to be a gnome. I’d say we better stay on our toes until we find out what made these.”
They all agreed that was the wisest course of action and pulled out their weapons, ready for a fight.
Once they exited the long entrance corridor, they stepped into a yawning expanse. Logan could not make out quite how large the room was. The ceiling went up so high it disappeared into shadows, and no walls could be seen on either side or in front of them. Massive marble columns were set at intervals all around them. Standing there under the weight of the mountain, he could almost feel the emptiness of that lost space.
“Which way do we go?” Corb
in asked.
“We never entered this room,” Isaac said thoughtfully. “When we traveled to Miradùr through the Leaving Well, we came through the Hall of the Mystics, as we were seeking insight into the dwergaz Scrolls of Ilfelim. However, I do have a spell that should help us find our way. It will only take about thirty minutes to cast, so if you can keep watch, I’ll get to it.”
Logan snapped his fingers and pointed at the mage. “No need. I’ve got a lodestone!”
Corbin beamed like an excited schoolboy. “You do? Oh man, that’s going to make this way easier.”
Logan agreed, nodding emphatically and flipping his pack off so he could rummage through the pockets.
“What is this lodestone, Master Logan?” Nero asked, leaning in to see.
“Yes, I’m unfamiliar with this device,” Isaac added with equal curiosity. “Is it like a compass?”
Logan stopped rummaging and frowned at Bipp.
The gnome motioned for him to keep looking and tried to explain. “Yes and no. The lodestone is much better than a compass. A compass, while handy on the surface, only measures the magnetic East pole. So while it can be invaluable when you are trying to find say, the ruins of Ithiki—” He stopped to wink at Logan. They were quite proud of their part in retrieving the Aegis. “—underground it would not do as much. See, we folk from Vanidriell, pun unintended, travel not just east, west, etc., but also up and down in varying levels and degrees.”
Logan grunted excitedly and pulled the lodestone out of his pack. It was a teardrop-shaped blue stone tied with some twine. He held it out proudly for Nero and Isaac to see.
The mage lifted his brow then squinted, focusing on the lodestone. “I see. So it’s a rock? Perhaps I best get started on the spell.”
“No, wait,” Logan said. “It’s not just a rock. Watch.”
He lowered the stone so the tip touched the floor for a few seconds and then lifted it in the air. The lodestone began to swing like a pendulum, slowly at first, then beginning to form circles and leaning toward the right, as if being pulled by an invisible string.
“Hmm, that is impressive,” Isaac admitted.
“‘Course it is,” Bipp said. “It’s a lodestone. No self-respecting adventurer would leave home without one.”
“But how does it direct the traveler?” Nero asked.
“Easy,” Logan said, “the stone will lean and spin counter-clockwise when a way below is present. See? It does different things to represent north, west, south…and the rest.You don’t always need fancy spells to show you the way.”
“Harumph,” Isaac coughed. “Maybe you don’t.”
“Okay, what now?” Logan asked.
“Seems logical we would want to go deeper into the mountain,” Corbin reasoned. “Seeing as we came from the east, lets head due west until we find some way of traveling lower.”
That was good enough reasoning for the rest of them, and they all marched in formation toward the back of the hulking room. Isaac walked in the middle with Bipp and Logan to either side while Corbin took the lead and Nero the rear.
“Hard to imagine people used to live here,” Logan said. “It feels so cold and empty, like nothing alive could ever have found comfort here.”
“What a grand spectacle it must have been to behold when the dwergaz lived here, though,” Isaac mused.
Logan rolled his eyes at mention of dwarves. He had already dismissed the images on the mountainside, telling himself there was some reasonable explanation yet undiscovered. He decided not to bother trying to convince Isaac that dwarves were the stuff of legend, instead focusing on the very real mountain city they were in. “I wonder what the previous owners used this area for?”
“I think I can guess that one,” Bipp said as they marched between a set of marble columns paralleled on both sides by matching pillars.
“You can?” Corbin said.
“Sure. What’s the most basic reason a visitor has to come to a city?” Bipp asked.
Logan shrugged. “I don’t know, to meet a girl?”
The gnome snickered at him and shook his head. “Maybe for you, but I’m talking about regular folk.”
“To shop!” Corbin realized.
Bipp winked at him and nodded. “Yup, this must have been a giant marketplace. They would have needed a lot of space if the stories of dwarf craftsmanship hold any weight. And with all those tents and stands setup in here, they would have needed to make the ceiling extra high to allow the fumes from fires and cooking to dissipate.”
“Oh, not you too,” Logan groaned. Despite his sour stomach at hearing Bipp being converted into a dewy-eyed believer, he thought the observation was brilliant. “Marketplace, huh? I bet you’re right about that. It would certainly explain why this place is so bare and dull looking.”
They came to a series of dark archways at the end of the room, each heading in a different direction. Corbin reached out with his psionic detection and probed each one in turn for signs of life.
“Not even so much as a rat,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Hmm, it’s hard to decide which path to take,” Isaac mused. “These can lead to any number of places and we have no idea which will take us deeper into the mountain.”
“Not true,” Logan said, pointing at two of the tunnels. “While Corbin was checking for signs of life, I used the lodestone on each of them. The third one over and the second beyond that both slope deeper into the mountain.”
“So that narrows us down to two options, at least,” Bipp said.
“Perhaps we should take the path with all the footprints?” Nero offered, pointing out that the third archway had a multitude of footprints in the dust, both entering and leaving. Some were considerably smaller than the first they had seen, yet equally unnerving.
“Not that I’m in a hurry to meet the owner of these,” Corbin said, “but it’s possible they know a way to Vanidriell, and thus worth checking out.”
As soon as they stepped into the tunnel, Logan felt an extra spring in his step. After all these weeks traveling across the great open spaces of Acadia, it was a relief to be back in a nice, cramped space again. He noticed Bipp and Corbin looked just as content and decided he quite liked this place. However, for their surface-dwelling companions, the ceiling was a little too low, forcing Isaac and Nero to walk hunched over.
The tunnel, like everywhere else they had travelled thus far, was barren, with other paths branching off of it in intervals.
At each pass they decided to either follow the footsteps or the lodestone, depending on which would take them farther down. Every tunnel led to another, and every room they passed was bare, with no hint of the dwellers that had once roamed these finely built halls.
Gradually the air became warmer, until Logan’s brow was beading with sweat.
“Hey, guys,” he said, “correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it normally cooler in Vanidriell than on the surface?”
Bipp and his brother nodded.
“Then why is it getting so hot down here?”
“I believe the answer to that lies ahead,” Nero said. “I can hear something large moving at the end of the corridor.”
“Large?” Bipp gulped. “Like sauria lizard large?”
Isaac chuckled. “Nothing of the sort. It sounds more like a blazing furnace or rushing water.”
“You can hear it too?” Logan asked. It was not unusual for the android to hear things the rest of them could not, but Isaac was another story altogether.
Isaac flashed a wide grin and tapped one of the rings in his ear. The mage had spent a lifetime collecting powerful relics and magical artifacts from across the globe and possibly other planes of existence, if his cryptic hints were any indication. The dozen or so pieces of jewelry he wore were some of his most prized possessions. Each held potent magic that Isaac made use of when the time was right.
Logan picked up his pace, excited by the idea of something—anything—waiting for them ahead, if only to break up the mono
tony of the place.
When they rounded the corner, it was to enter a grand cavern. Unlike the other rooms, this area looked like a naturally formed pocket inside the mountain, with small stalagmites hanging high overhead and deep sections of rock cut away, circling the room to form balconies.
Immediately coming around the corner, the sound was loud enough for all to hear, like the rushing waters of a waterfall.
Halfway across the cavern, a blast of heat warmed their faces. The floor of the wide room was broken up by cobbled buildings that were perfectly dome-shaped with open holes in the rooftops.
Bipp gaped. “Wow. These look like they were meant to be used as blacksmiths’ workshops.”
Logan leaned back to look overhead, where perfectly straight stone walkways with no railings connected the balconies and different levels. Many rounded windows overlooked the area, and everything was bathed in a glowing orange light.
“Incredible,” Bipp said, taking in the grand forge on the far side of the area where the cavern ended in a long platform, protected at its edges by a stone half wall.
Upon looking at the forge, two things became clear to Logan. Firstly, that at the center of this mountain existed an active volcano. Secondly, that whoever built this city had also designed the largest forge he was ever likely to see. Staring at the thick river of lava that spewed over the insanely large mechanism into a churning whirlpool of red-hot liquid, he had a hard time imagining how anyone, even the gods themselves, could achieve such a feat. He wondered how the chains, each of which was as thick around as a tree trunk, and pulleys were not red-hot. The giant mechanism was clearly crafted out of metal, yet not even the slightest mar could be seen across their gleaming surface.
