As she was seeing to Brael’s most severe wound Votrex had unstrapped Elira from his back and gently lowered her to the floor, before stepping up to the forge. The fire had long since gone out. It surprised Korhan to see Votrex more or less able to ignore the arrow sticking out from his shoulder. As Votrex stood on the stone wall surrounding the great forge he held a hand out to Korhan. “Lad, pass me one of those long thin rods.”
Korhan, still weak and tired dragged himself to his feet and picked up the item Votrex was asking for, passing it to him. Votrex took the rod and passed it through the grill above the large square shaped firepit. There was clearly some sort of catch or something holding it. After peering through the grill and doing some jiggling and poking the grill hinged open in a cloud of dust and soot. Votrex covered his eyes, coughing for moment, then looked up. “Hah! Look!”
Korhan limped over and peered up the now open large square hole where the grill had been. Sure enough there was a wide, well built square shaped hole, easily big enough for every member of their party to climb through. There was even a series of metal rungs hammered into the stonework to climb up. There was no light at the end of the tunnel so to speak but it looked in good condition and at the very least, it appeared to lead out of the Holt even if it wouldn’t take them to the surface.
Despite an escape route being in place, the mood was grim. Nobody had escaped the fight without injury and though Vashni had healed Korhan and had sealed the worst of Brael’s wounds the effort had left her spent, sitting on the floor, back propped up against the wall, one arrow sticking out from her shoulder, and one from her hip. She was panting softly, her face a mask of pain and discomfort. Elira, had been afforded some protection by the heavy leather pack she’d been bundled into. Her main discomfort was her good arm, which from all the slashing and hacking, especially being so unbalanced, was now tired and aching. Saul of course, had not really got stuck into the fracas, but the rapid use of three magic missile spells in succession, after having recently cast the silence spell, had left him feeling drained, light-headed and a little dizzy. As soon as the doors had closed, Saul had found a quiet corner of the forge and slumped to the ground with his back against the wall. Korhan, considering himself to be the fittest at this stage pulled his pack off and rummaged for a some provisions and flasks. His first stop was to drop a flask of mead into Vashni’s outstretched hand.
“Thankyou Ri§ine...”
She drank deeply, then passed the flask to Brael who raised it to his lips and began with a tentative sip. As he did Vashni began quietly whispering to the arrow embedded in her upper arm. Saul groaned from the far side of the smithy. “We shoud not tarry here long, we do not know what means of breaking through those doors the Verkreath have. If they had magicians we-”
Votrex jumped off the forge. “Aye, we’ll rest a minute, have a drink and some food - then start the long climb.”
Korhan stood and looked at the grill. “It’s a pity we can’t close the grill as we ascend, it might buy us more time if the Verkreath can’t work out where we’ve gone when they break through.”
“Aye, lad, good thinking. There is a way I can pull the grill back up once we’re on the ladder.”
Korhan formed a puzzled look on his face, “Votrex, if it is this simple to escape why do you think the dwarves of Beren’Gedt Holt didn’t escape this way?”
Vashni overheard this and chuckled softly, almost melodically. “Silly Ri§ine, these are dwarves we are talking about! While they were occupying this Holt, that forge would have been permanently white hot, the bellows pumping, metal being smelted. Dwarves are obsessive metallurgists, it is highly likely when the Verkreath broke into the Holt that flue was boiling hot and full of fumes. The dwarves working the smithy probably didn’t even know what was happening, because it would be so noisy in here and the sound proofing from the rest of the Holt is so good. I suppose when the blacksmith and his assistants finished their shift and opened those doors, they had a rather nasty surprise.”
Votrex shuddered. What Vashni said was probably true. He’d worked the smithy in his time, years ago he’d spent time manning the bellows or folding and beating steel. The smoke, the fumes, the noise... The rest of the Holt would be being torn apart and in the smithy you’d have no idea it was happening. He could picture himself pulling his apron and smithing helmet off, then throwing open the doors and finding himself paralyzed, the horror of what he was beholding freezing him to the spot.
At this point Vashni had whispered her arrows out and thrown the crudely made arrows to one side. Once the contaminants were whispered out and the the wounds closed she stood and approached Votrex. “Votrex, let me see that wound.”
He turned to her and stood still while she examined the arrow. After bending awkwardly and peering at it for a few moments she sighed and kneeled down so her face was level with the arrow. She began whispering and gently working the arrow. Votrex, to his credit didn’t show any discomfort, though he did allow himself a subtle show of relief as the arrow fell to the floor. She whispered out the contaminants and closed the wound. It struck Votrex, how important Vashni was to the group’s success. Her skill at using whispering to heal wounds, though it seemed to expend a lot of energy, and tire her, was invaluable. Yes, the wounds would still be sore and the affected areas weak for some time, but the main risk, the risk of disease and the problem of slow healing times was completely negated.
Though Brael, Votrex and Elira still had superficial wounds, they had clotted over and none were losing any more blood. Saul had some colour in his cheeks again too. They ate; passing provisions around, and drank. It was tempting to ask Vashni to heal them further, cleaning and closing their other wounds, but she looked shattered, her eyes heavy and her face drawn and lifeless.
Votrex, pulled his flask away from his lips and replaced the cork. “Come, we’ve tarried long enough, is everyone fit to move? Tis a long climb ahead of us I fear.”
The group murmured agreement, and dragged themselves wearily to their feet. In truth they would all have preferred to rest longer, but there were no guarantees the Verkreath couldn't find a way of destroying the doors.
As the others gathered their things and pulled their packs on, Votrex approached Elira. “Sorry lass, it’s time to move.”
She smiled weakly at him, clearly still exhausted. “Don’t apologise dwarf, I would rather be strapped to your back with a blade in my hand, than rotting away in the Verkreath’s custody, awaiting my fate. I thank you dwarf, for facilitating me reaping some small revenge against the Verkreath, for both my companions and myself.”
“Who were your companions?”
“Arkon and Trevil? They were my man-servants, both loyal; they would have fought to the death for me. They probably should have done, given the fate that awaited them.”
“Man-servants? Are you royalty mistress gravian?”
“Royalty? No, I suspect a dwarf would find this difficult to understand but gravian society has always been dominated by the female gender. We are a matriarchal society, very nearly all positions of power and authority in gravian society are held by females, well were held by females. The highest being the high priestess to Avanti, and the matriarch herself.”
“But Brael-”
“His actions, unfortunate as they turned out to be, are the product of his instructions and his profound knack for magic and reason. I suspect if a female gravian had undertaken his task, and succeeded she would have had the sense to burn her research and refuse to look into the matter further.”
“The truth? What IS the truth?”
“Hmmm, the answer is not a simple one, but I can give you the question. In gravian culture there are two prominent religions, each with their own god and principal figures, though both gods are possibly the same god, the characters in their holy books are somewhat different and the rituals and ceremonies that are carried out in the two religions names are similar but different. The afterlife promised by each religion is slightly different.
Gravian’s tend to simply follow the religion of their parents, the thing is, both religions essentially denounce the other as false and that their religion is the only true religion and the only path to an afterlife. Now Zirha§a, the Matriarch at the time of the revelation, questioned this. The two religions had warred in the past - much blood had been spilt over religion. However at this time the two religions more or less tolerated each other. Zirha§a, was old, very old, she was dying, she predicted her death. Fearful of death she wanted to know which of the two religions, was actually the one true religion. She commissioned Brael Truthseeker to use any means possible to ascertain, which of the two religions, was in fact the correct one to worship to ensure an afterlife. The answer to this question was not what she expected, the answer is what shook our society and culture.”
“Did he discover which one was correct?”
“I will say no more dwarf - save your questions for Truthseeker, he is free to talk about the truth from now on. Get me on your back and let us get moving.”
Votrex sighed and hauled her onto his back, tightening up the straps as he did.
Korhan was tightening the straps on his pack when he looked over his shoulder to Vashni. Her movements were laboured and slow. “Mir§a Vashni, are you okay?”
“Hmmph! No Ri§ine! I am exhausted, aside from the fact that I’ve not had a decent nights sleep in longer than I can remember, and having seemingly been more or less on the run or enduring great discomfort since we fought Thrax, I have expended a great deal of energy trying to heal everyone’s wounds with whispers. I need to sleep Ri§ine.”
“I think we need to move, the Verkreath could break through at any time, we do not know what technology or enchantments they have access to. Here, let me carry your pack.”
She loosened the straps on her pack and handed it to Korhan. It was only small anyway, most of the weighty objects having been abandoned in the warren where they’d spent the previous night, but it was something.
Votrex was standing at the firepit, gesturing for the others to go first. “Use the grill to climb to the first rung; I will go last so I can try to close the grill after us. It might not take them long to work out where we’ve gone, but if it slows them down by half an hour, I’ll take that half an hour.”
Korhan watched Brael head up first, clambering up the grill to reach the first rung, Saul followed, then Vashni. He turned to Votrex. “This is a fine forge Votrex, why do the Verkreath not use it as the dwarves did?”
Votrex spat, looking a little disgusted. “The Verkreath know nothing of craftsmanship or metallurgy. Their best equipment is stolen from other species, they do not even know how to make steel. They rely on iron and bronze only. They wouldn’t know how to get the most out of this sophisticated equipment.”
Korhan sighed, he knew Votrex was right. Every one of the Verkreath they had crossed swords with had been wielding crude weapons and wearing badly made armour if any at all. Their clothes appeared to be tatters and scraps of cloth roughly sewn together. The fact was the things that made the Verkreath dangerous was not their engineering, but their mastery of disease and their sheer ferocity. The thought of an army of these creatures storming into a city which had already been ravaged by one of their engineered plagues’ or epidemics’ was a frightening one. If they had invaded Strak, Kyla and her people wouldn’t have stood a chance. Strak, with its fanatical cult at its door and horde of sentient Vermin waiting to storm the city seemed like a doomed town. Nobody could envy Kyla her position.
As he thought about this it became clear it was his turn to begin the long climb. He scrambled up the grill and started up the soot covered iron rungs.
Elira at this point spoke over her shoulder, “Pass me a blade dwarf, I doubt we will reach the surface before we encounter more Verkreath.”
“Ahh, you wish to feast in Kirkfell at Ishar’s table, aye lass, I’ll help you die with a blade in your hand.”
“It is not for that reason dwarf, I hold no special interest in dying with a blade in my hand. I merely expect I shall be more capable or preventing my ‘dying’ if I have a blade in my hand.”
Votrex chuckled, and wandered to the back wall of the forge. The Verkreath had obviously been here, but they hadn’t removed everything. He selected an ornately carved, shiny steel dwarven shortsword and passed it over his shoulder. Elira took it by the handle. “Thank you Votrex, tis a fine blade, well balanced and sharp.”
Votrex had a last glance around the smithy for signs of anything useful to take. Satisfied there wasn’t he scrambled up the grill. Once on the rungs he hung his great axe on a rung a few feet up. Then he climbed back down, and took off his leather belt. He fed it through the grill, gripping both ends. Once back on the rungs he pulled hard, making the grill hinge closed with a click. As it had caught on the latch he held onto the buckle and released the other end of the belt, pulling it through the grill. He stood on the grill for a moment, and re-fitted his belt, tightening it and fastening the buckle. Then he started climbing after the others, collecting his axe on the way up.
The Long Climb & The Caverns
The climb seemed to go on forever. Though the ladder of iron rungs was well made, the rungs were spaced for a dwarf, making it slightly tiresome for the rest of the party. They would have to either skip a rung and stretch themselves or step on every rung and accept that each step was unnaturally short. Vashni suffered the most. She was physically as tired as the rest of them, but she was mentally exhausted, almost completely spent. Whispering was tiring at the best of times, but whispering when having had no sleep and having had two arrows embedded in your flesh; this was a feat few would be able to pull off.
All the time they were climbing they were each listening for the sound of Verkreath breaking into the smithy below. They climbed in silence, fearing that noise might echo down and aid the Verkreath in discovering how they had decided to escape. As they got higher and higher, they got further from the grill and the rune-lit smithy. Climbing into the gloom was difficult; eventually they were reduced to feeling around in the dark for the next rung, the tunnel-like flue being completely black. It was unnerving too, for Elira, being borne up on the back of Votrex, they were soon at a height where her life was entirely dependant on Votrex not slipping and falling to both of their deaths. The sensation was made all the more surreal that she only had one hand, and that hand carried her blade, leaving her not even a glimmer of hope of saving herself should Votrex fall. Strangely though she felt hope, part of her didn’t believe Brael could ever restore her limbs, part of her felt that Brael didn’t sincerely believe he could. Still, it was better to suspend her disbelief than to despair. Anything was better than being carved up and cooked by the Verkreath, the revelation of ‘the truth’ meant finding a means to cling on to life was preferable to facing oblivion.
The climb continued for a long time in pitch black, even Brael and Votrex, whose eyes were more sensitive to dim-light were struggling to pick up anything but faint outlines of the soot covered rungs. Eventually, Brael reached up for another rung, only to find thin air in place of it. He scrambled out of the hole to find himself still underground. It was pitch black, he whispered down the shaft. “I’ve reached the top, we’re still underground. Wizard, you may have to muster a mage light once you’re up here.”
One by one they scrambled out of the hole into pure blackness. They were exhausted, it had been impossible to keep track of how long they’d been climbing, but every climber’s forearms were burning from the strain and hands were sore from rubbing on the iron rungs as they’d climbed.
Saul rolled back his sleeves and formed a ball with his hands, while uttering his spell. “Racha... Vorrow!”
As he spoke he threw hands up and a dimly glowing orb hovered up into the air, clearly its potency was checked by Saul’s exhausted state. Korhan looked around with a confused look on his face. He’d slumped down onto his rump, as had the rest of the adventurers as soon as he’d exited it the whole. “I don’t get it Vot
rex; I expected the shaft to lead to the surface?”
Votrex, who had sat carefully down himself so as to rest in a way which Elira would be comfortable sighed. “That would be a foolish design. A chimney popping out of the ground in the middle of nowhere would make the location of a Holt very obvious. When these places were built there was tension between the dwarves and the surface dwellers - better to try to allow the smoke to dissipate and emerge from the ground in a more natural looking way, spread out over a large area.”
Brael, who had immediately begun studying their new surroundings with interest found himself nodding with comprehension. After a moment he looked to Votrex. “This area is different; it looks rougher, but still constructed. What was this cave systems purpose? It doesn’t look like the warren under Strak.”
“No, tis not. This was probably once the main warren way south. However when Beren’Gedt Holt was founded and built most traffic would have passed through there - it was a major trade hub. This series of caverns you could liken to the muddy track that leads up to the town of Trest, recognisable as a road, but not as a ‘main road’ like the wide, stone-paved road leading from Cormaroth to Cairna and on to Briem.”
Vashni had slumped forwards, her arms resting on her knees, and her forehead resting on her arms. She looked like she could barely stay awake.
Saul noticed. “Are you alright mistress elf?”
“No, I have over-exerted myself. I need to rest, is it safe to rest here Votrex?”
“I know not Vashni. Safer than in the smithy, but the Verkreath appear to be dominating the voids within the earth at the moment, perhaps moving vast numbers of troops North and South in order to prepare to take the surface. I suspect this warren way is use by them. We could perhaps rest for a while, but we should not tarry long.”
Deathsworn Arc: 02 - The Verkreath Horror Page 14
