by Joel Babbitt
Bringing up the rear, another ten paces behind Durik’s small group, Gorgon and Jerrig padded stealthily along after their leaders.
Following the narrow, natural passageway the dwarves had widened somewhat in ages past, the scouting party quickly arrived at the cavern where the entranceway to the Dwarven Mining Outpost lay, the raucous sounds of its inhabitants growing louder as they approached.
As the rear two teams flattened themselves against the near wall, Ardan knelt and peered quickly around the carved pillar into the entranceway, pulling his head back just as quickly. Looking Keryak in the eye, he shook his head, meaning that the ‘heat sweep,’ as they called the short, initial look they made for heat signatures, had shown nothing living in the entranceway.
Ardan now moved his head slowly into the entranceway, this time smelling the air coming from the outpost more thoroughly than he’d been able to from up the passageway and straining to filter out the din of drunken revelry in the distance to focus on even the slightest sound that might give a clue of any watch that might have been set near the entrance. His eyes were open, but he was only passively aware of what they were focusing on.
After several moments Ardan could detect nothing else in the gentle exhale of air coming from the outpost, and he moved back to Durik and Manebrow, leaving Keryak to watch the entrance. The two leaders leaned close to him as he whispered.
“I can smell the stench of many more orc warriors than just a few, in addition to several orc females and young. I don’t know if the warriors are still there. If they recently left, then their scent would still be lingering. I also smell several kobolds, probably many more than just the merks. The air in there smells more like forty or fifty, not ten or so. There’s also a stench I haven’t smelled for quite some time. I think it’s goblin, probably only one, but no more than a handful. There was a definite, pervasive stench of orc brew, bitter wine I believe they call it. I didn’t smell fresh vomit, so I’m guessing they’ve begun their drinking bout only recently. Finally, I smell fire, which isn’t normal down here. Orcs don’t normally cook, and I doubt their mercenaries do. After all, where would they get the fuel to burn?”
Considering the entire report for a moment, Durik nodded. “Good report, Ardan. Your nose is finely tuned. We are lucky to have you on the team.”
“Thank you, sire,” Ardan nodded humbly.
“Ardan, do you think those other kobolds could be slaves?” Manebrow asked.
Thinking for a moment, Ardan nodded. “Likely as not they are. The orcs like to take slaves, to ‘lessen the whining of the concubines,’ as they say it.”
Durik looked at him, not quite understanding.
“Someone has to do all the work, and orcs aren’t particularly fond of it,” Ardan whispered. “In fact, in the orc tribes of the great forest I hear that goblins do most of the work of planting and harvesting, leaving the orcs free to hunt. The entire goblin race seems to exist mostly as slaves among the other brutal races, it would seem.”
Manebrow nodded, “That would explain their presence as well.” Changing the subject, he continued. “I wonder if we might want to wait a little while before we go in, let them get drunk to the point of throwing up. Seems better to me than possibly finding a bunch of orc warriors and mercenaries who are just numb enough to not feel pain.”
Durik thought about it for a second then shook his head. “I don’t want to be out here on their doorstep longer than I have to. The drinking should keep them occupied, and distracted. Let’s get in and get out quickly.”
Ardan nodded and stood up, then crept quickly back to where Keryak kept watch. Keryak, seeing him coming back, did another heat sweep of the entranceway, then moved back shaking his head, indicating he’d seen nothing.
Bracing himself, Ardan padded across to the far side of the entrance. Nothing had moved, nothing had reacted. He felt pretty sure that there were no guards with hidden vantage points, and the wind was in his favor. Kneeling down, he scanned the first several paces of passageway to where he could see the first of several broad steps that dropped the passageway into darkness, looking for any hidden alarms or traps. Seeing nothing, he moved forward to the edge of the top stair and scanned the several steps that led downward to the landing below. Repeating this process until he reached where the broad passageway broke into a T of two smaller passageways, Ardan stopped again to smell and listen as Keryak came up next to him. The din of the drinking bout was equally loud from both directions. They were getting close enough now that individual voices could be heard from the din, not just random exclamations, squeals, and laughter. As Ardan listened, he could hear a strong orc voice above the fray exclaiming something about ‘their loss is our gain’ and ‘left the wine stores.’
Behind him, Durik’s small group waited just inside the passageway, watching out the entranceway for any possible trouble. Though he couldn’t see them, Ardan knew that Gorgon and Jerrig were not far behind.
After several moments, Ardan and Keryak took the passageway to the right, passing down one staircase, carefully avoiding a side passage whose stale scent of orc had lingered, though the orcs themselves had already left. From the main passage ahead of them the slightest bit of light could be seen.
Padding quietly down another staircase they came upon a small barren room. Two passageways led out perpendicularly from it. The light emanated from the left of the two passageways. Though the flickering light was weak, probably one or two candles at most, it was enough to eliminate their native heat vision.
Somewhat blinded now, Keryak could feel that the filth of ages seemed to have stained the empty doorway of this chamber more than the hallway that led him to it. He made a note to ensure he washed his feet later.
Standing to one side of the entranceway outside the chamber, Ardan pointed to his eyes, then to the left passage out of the chamber ahead of them, then motioned at Keryak. Keryak took a deep breath. In the blink of an eye, Keryak leaned one eye into the empty doorway, facing the left passage, then back out again.
From the hall beyond the next chamber a chorus of cheers filled the air as the thud of a large barrel being set down on stone was heard. In a moment the clear, distinct sound of a tap being plunged into a keg was met by another round of cheers.
Moving up next to Ardan, Keryak whispered in his ear. “There are many in a large chamber. I saw probably five or six kobolds and a couple of orcs, but by the set up of the tables and the sound of it, the chamber is much larger than what I could see. None of them seem to be paying attention to anything but the drinking and the females serving the drink.”
Motioning for Keryak to stay and keep watch, Ardan moved back to the rest of the party and explained the situation. Durik quickly concurred that they should risk moving down the other passage, using the heat-blindness the candles brought to hide them.
In a few moments Ardan moved around the empty doorway into the small chamber, hugging the wall and moving down the right passage to where it made a left turn. He peered around the corner then moved around it quietly. One by one, the rest of the party followed suit.
Again in total darkness, the kobolds could see that around the corner were a few empty doorways, a couple of passageways breaking off to either side, and a javelin’s throw to the front was what appeared to be a common chamber, a place where the dwarves of old must have gathered to talk, to conduct trades, to stage mining or scouting parties—and to draw water from its pair of wells.
As Durik saw the wells, he remembered Lady Karaba’s words to them on parting, that the Kale Stone was to be found in a treasure chamber down an old abandoned well. His heart was burning within him, urging him onward and confirming that his actions were in line with the will of the strange and wondrous being Morgra, whom he now served.
Catching Ardan’s eye, Durik motioned for the party to move forward to the common chamber with its pair of wells. Ardan nodded and the party moved forward, looking in each room and down each passage along the way to ensure that no one was pres
ent to raise the alarm.
As Durik and his companions walked down the few short steps into the common chamber, the source of the smoke scent they had smelled became utterly clear; the walls and ceiling of this chamber had been recently blackened by fire, the blast itself having seemingly focused itself directly above the closer of the two wells. The blast seemed to have had no affect on the wells, however. The sturdy dwarven construction had left the stone sides of the wells intact. As Durik moved closer he could see two lengths of rope still tied around the low circular stone wall that formed the lip of the well. The parts of the ropes that hung down into the well over the lip of stone were slightly singed, but overall still usable. Peering down into the cold darkness of the well, Durik could see that the two ropes had once been a rope ladder, but some powerful force had sheered the wooden steps free from one of the two ropes, incinerating much of one of the ropes as well. Durik gathered the team together.
“As we were leaving the Krall Gen, Lady Karaba told me the Kale Stone was down a well. I think this might be it,” he whispered to the huddled group.
“Right,” Manebrow nodded, then looked at Keryak. “Get your rope out, Keryak, you’re going down first.”
“Me?” he gasped, then not wanting to appear cowardly, he continued. “Of course. I’m probably the best climber here.” It wasn’t true, as both Durik and Gorgon had proved in the past, but no one disputed Keryak’s claim.
“Come on, in the past someone would have called my bluff!” Keryak remarked.
No one said anything.
“Alright, I get it. Let the condemned kobold have his delusions,” Keryak said, half-jokingly.
Durik couldn’t help but smile at his friend of so many years. “If it makes it any better, you might want to know that the Kale Stone is in a treasure chamber at the bottom of a well.”
Keryak’s pursed lips and sidelong glance told the whole story. “Sure, that makes it all better,” he said sarcastically. “Fat lot of good wealth will do me if I’m dead.”
“Just get going, will you?” Gorgon prodded. “And cut the chatter, Keryak. Our best weapon here is stealth.”
Within moments Keryak’s rope was out and tied around the lip of the well, just below and separate from the ropes holding the remains of the shattered rope ladder in place.
As he swung one leg over the edge, Keryak turned and looked Durik in the eyes.
“If I die on this mission, you better tell Darya I died fighting some dragon or ogre or something. Don’t put ‘slipped and fell down well, breaking neck’ on my remembrance stick.”
Durik smiled. “Alright, Keryak. Enough of this talk of dying, just get going. You’ll be fine.” It seemed like his little sister Darya was a world away, and the thought of the love that she and Keryak shared only made him worry more about how he was going to break the news about the state of their gen to his companions. For now he put it out of his mind. Must focus, he told himself until he’d regained control of his thoughts.
As Gorgon watched the rope, Keryak descended into the inky blackness of the well, the brightness of his warm, unarmored figure leaving gray spots of warmth on the well’s walls and on the rope as he slid hand over hand into the cool darkness. Soon, Keryak was dangling a javelin’s throw beneath the rest of his party below the bottom lip of the well. He could barely make out several dark shapes in the blackness around him. He could see nothing warm, however, which belayed most of his fears.
As his feet touched the ground of the treasure chamber, he felt something round on the ground. Reaching down he discovered it was a partially used candle. Keryak took flint and steel from a pouch and struck it to light the candle.
As the inky blackness of the cold room was chased away by the gentle, warm glow of the candle, deep shadows hid the corners of the room, but the sparkle from the myriad of coins, gems, and jewelry lit the small room like a thousand glittering fireflies. Keryak gasped audibly, standing still for several moments, as if moving would make it all disappear.
It was no illusion, however, and after a glob of hot melted wax brought him back to reality, he moved to look up the well, giving the ‘all clear’ signal and motioning for the others to come down. Having knotted Ardan’s rope, the descent for Durik and Ardan was quicker. The small party didn’t want to be caught in a trap, so they left Manebrow, Kiria, Gorgon and Jerrig waiting up the well.
Walking the perimeter of the chamber, Keryak could see that he’d come down in the middle of an octagonal room no more than ten or twelve steps in diameter. The walls and floor were clearly of ancient dwarven construction, with statues placed in small alcoves in four of the walls. A large stone arch dominated one of the four unadorned walls, the stone slab that sealed it off was clearly a door with its massive stone hinges and a stone handle set in the middle of it.
The contents of the room, however, were much more impressive than the room itself. The splendor of the treasure accumulated over the centuries by the dwarves, various bandit lords, orc chieftains, and outcasts was startling. The various chests and barrels placed around the room were clearly inadequate to hold it all, as masses of metal coins, gems, jewelry, and ornate items seemed to have spilled out all over the floor.
As first Ardan then Durik set foot in the treasure chamber, their eyes were filled with the wonder of it all as well. Ardan was a simple kobold who had never concerned himself with wealth, but he knew the possibilities it could bring. Durik, on the other hand, stood with a look of confusion on his face.
“Where’s the stone?” he whispered. His reminder of why they were there brought the other two out of their imaginings. “It’s not here.”
Keryak looked over at his long-time friend and now leader. “What do you mean? Let’s get to digging through the piles. It could be in any one of them.”
Durik shook his head slightly. “No. It’s not in here. I can feel it. It’s calling to me from…” he turned to face in the direction of the rather thick stone door that was set in one wall. “It says it’s being held captive behind that door.”
Keryak and Ardan looked at each other.
“What sort of a thing holds a stone of power captive?” Keryak asked, quieter than before.
Durik shook his head slowly as he searched his feelings. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it has great power.”
Keryak wished he’d not left his spear up the well. At least Ardan and Durik have their weapons he thought to himself as he began to look around the room for something better than his belt knife. Ardan drew his bow and an arrow from over his back while Durik drew the gold-hilted steel sword Lord Krall gave him. No further warning was necessary.
Keryak’s eyes caught sight of a short fighting spear whose haft and blade were made of a fine steel that, though it appeared old, had somehow not become corrupted with rust. The long blade had several runes written upon it, with several more running the length of the steel rod that was its shaft. As he picked it up, Keryak was surprised to feel how light it was. Though it felt solid in his hand, it weighed no more than the light wooden javelins his gen used. Holding it up in a guard stance, Keryak moved up to stand with Durik and Ardan.
“So what do we do now?” Keryak asked quietly, the sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead, despite the coolness of the treasure chamber.
Durik leaned over to Ardan. “Signal for Manebrow to send down Gorgon and Jerrig. Whatever it is, I think we’ll need more help.”
Ardan nodded worriedly. “Aye,” he whispered as he moved to comply.
“I sense great power, not just in that room, but welling up within me,” Durik said, his voice rising from a whisper momentarily, startling both Keryak and Ardan. Looking at him in wonder, Keryak took a step back.
Suddenly, as Durik stiffened, a brilliant light appeared around him, seemingly emanating from every scale of his body. In a moment his eyes were full of power and strength as he raised his sword against some unknown foe on the other side of the door. As he extended his sword, the cold of the room seemed to gather
into it, jagged wisps of frost seeming to collect in the shadows only to fly with increasing speed until they were absorbed into the utter cold of his blade.
Keryak and Ardan stared at Durik in wonder. Then, with an equal suddenness, the door at the far end of the room flew open, smashing into a chest of coins and knocking a couple of silver statuettes to the ground. Standing in the doorway two large orcs loomed over the much shorter kobolds, covering their eyes from the sudden brightness. Their wicked-looking scimitars and cold metal armor gleamed darkly in the light that emanated from Durik.
Neither Ardan nor Keryak could see well. The brilliance of the light emanating from Durik and reflecting off the thousands of jewels and coins lit the small chamber with a brightness that was surreal. Standing back from Durik, Ardan squinted and aimed at the nearest orc. He released the bowstring and the arrow flew straight and true, striking the orc in the neck. Screaming in agony, the orc thrashed about with his scimitar, smashing open his own companion’s head in his agony as blood spurted from his severed artery.
At the exact same moment that the two orcs went down in a heap in the doorway, a chanting voice which they had all but ignored reached a crescendo and a deep red mass of fire blasted toward the three kobolds from the room beyond the open door. Keryak and Ardan both held up their arms to shield themselves from the fireball.
Standing erect and staring straight at the orc shaman in the far room, Durik ignored the ball of fire as it detonated on the shield of his faith, melting much of the soft metal in front of him and leaving himself and his companions untouched.
Pulling his sword back, Durik lowered his horns and rushed toward the fire shaman.
>> <<
Muttering words of power, Manechar Shaman of Fire brought up a wall of fire between himself and the strange, shining kobold and his cold sword. Though he’d initially thought the robbers were the same kobolds he’d chased away earlier, that misperception had been quickly dispelled.
