by D. M. Almond
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Logan’s boot scuffed against a pebble, skittering across the floor and waking Bipp from his deep slumber. He had been dreaming of a time when Ul’kor was filled with other gnomes, alive and thriving as the cultural center of Vanidriell. As the dream faded and he realized it was not real, he felt a pang of sadness at all that had been lost to the ages.
His friend scuffed a boot across the tiles again. Bipp dimly wondered why Logan was pacing in the back of the room. He’s probably having a hard time staying awake, he thought.
Bipp rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stared across the room at his companions. That’s funny, he thought, how is Logan making all that noise when he’s sitting slumped against the wall across from me?
The thought was like being doused with a bucket of icy water. His heart, along with the tufts of silver hair covering his ears, grew stiff.
Again, the sound of something scraping against stone came. Bipp was fully out of his daze now, realizing with whimpering horror it was coming from right behind where he lay. He held his breath, not daring to reveal he was aware something was in the room with them. Slowly he reached for the hammer resting next to his boots. His fingers froze in place when he felt hot sticky breathing on his neck.
Unable to contain himself any longer, Bipp howled, waking up the entire camp. Cold claws clamped around his ankle and yanked his body across the stone floor toward a shadowy corner in the back of the room.
Logan jumped up, cursing himself for nodding off. He saw Bipp being dragged across the floor and lunged to grab his wrist. Whatever had him was fiercely stronger than a cobold, wrenching the screaming gnome into an opening at the base of a ruined wall.
Corbin charged past him into the shadows, already swinging his polearm past Bipp’s feet. The blade chopped into something hard, taking a chunk out of it but not severing the grasping claws. Grubble grabbed the pleading gnome’s other wrist and threw his weight backward, pulling Bipp farther away from the shadows, giving Logan just enough leverage to free his hand and blindly let out an electric blast from his metal fist.
The area lit up with a flash. For the briefest of moments, they all got a glimpse of the horrible creature that had their friend. It was a flicker of long gangly arms covered with rotting gray flesh, bloody drooping eyes filled with an unquenchable hunger, and sharp bonelike spikes running along a horribly disfigured spine. The creature gurgled as the electricity knocked it painfully back. Dropping to all fours, the nightmare scurried backward into the hole and disappeared.
Flipping onto his back, Bipp scrambled away from the opening still thrashing his arms at the terrible thing that was no longer there.
“What in the bloody hell was that?” Logan asked his brother. “I thought you said there was nothing in here?”
“There wasn’t when I scanned the area,” Corbin said, sounding unsure of himself. “I’m sorry…this is all new to me.”
“It’s not yer fault, twinkle toes,” Grubble said. “That there was a bonestalker, mindless remnant of some unlucky bastard. No one’s home in there.” Grubble rapped his temple for reference. “The cursed things will follow their prey for days, waiting until the time is right to come in and snatch ye when ye be safe in bed.” He spat on the floor in revulsion.
“Take me for what?” Bipp’s said, his face drained of all color.
“Suck yer brains out, naturally,” Grubble casually replied, gathering up his boots to get dressed.
“And…we’re done resting,” Logan said. As he went to move, he staggered sideways. Corbin reached out to steady him, but he shook his head and used the wall for support.
“Where does your fist get the energy to do that?” Corbin asked.
Logan shrugged and popped the cap on his waterskin, knocking back a long steady gulp.
“Well, you better be careful using it,” Corbin said. “It looks like it takes a heavy toll on you.”
“Can we just get out of here?” Logan asked.
Nobody needed to be told a third time, all of them more than eager to put some distance between them and the bathhouse.
With weapons drawn, the companions fell into a defensive formation, Corbin taking the lead. Logan and Bipp each watched the buildings to their sides, and Grubble stalked behind to defend their rear. After about an hour of marching without being pursued, they relaxed a little.
“We’re almost all the way across the city,” Corbin pointed out. “If we go any farther, we’ll be out of the ruins entirely.”
“That can’t be right. We haven’t found what we came here for yet,” Logan complained.
“Okay, where do we go next then? What’s your plan?” Corbin asked expectantly.
“I don’t know. I kinda thought it would just sorta come to me once we got here…,” Logan admitted, hearing how ridiculous it sounded when spoken aloud. He shook his head in embarrassment.
Baetylus appeared in front of Corbin, blocking his view of Logan. He pointed his staff to a nearby domed building. “This is where you will find what you seek.”
Corbin sensed many cobolds living in the structure. “All-Father, how can we possibly hope to remain undetected while we search this place?” he asked, using his mind to speak, not wanting his friends to hear the fear laced in his words.
“You are the righteous chosen of Baetylus. Fear not the petty, weak-minded humanoids. They will be of little challenge for you, my champion.”
Corbin nodded, feeling more confident at having his god’s trust.
“We should head there, to that domed building,” he said. “That is where I sense the answers Fimbas sent you to seek are most likely to be waiting.”
Grubble shook his head and pointed his axe to the largest building instead, eyeing it at the end of his blade with one eye closed. It towered over everything around, built in tiers of sharp-angled stone carved into rectangular buildings, connected as one large towering gnothic structure. Something was protruding from the roof, but at their low vantage, it could not be seen clearly.
“I don’t know why, but the All-Father is pointing us in that direction,” Corbin insisted.
“Don’t give a flippin’ flyin’ crap storm what yer voices be sayin’,” Grubble said. “Makes the most sense to check out the King’s Castle first.”
Corbin could see there was no deterring the gnome from his course.
“I agree with Grubble,” Logan said thoughtfully. “We should check it out. I mean, just look at the place. It’s practically begging for us to come inside and take a peek.” He sounded excited at the prospect.
“Clearly there is no stopping your curiosity,” Corbin said. “Let’s head there first, but afterwards to the other, agreed?”
Logan and Bipp nodded, but Grubble just shrugged.
The castle’s gates were crushed inward, shards of stone littering the ground. One of the doors was still miraculously hanging on a lone hinge. Logan could only guess what could have been strong enough to do that much damage and hoped he never had to find out. All around the ground were strewn rusted remains of armor and dried bones of gnomes and humans.
“Didn’t I tell ye, Bipp? There’s yer proof it was the human traitors who brought this curse down on Ul’kor.” Grubble slapped the engineer’s chest, pointing at the mess.
The interior of the castle was overgrown with weeds as well, but there was still something majestic about the place, as if all the damage in Acadia could not wipe away the pride that had been masterfully crafted into the stoic building.
They traveled through the ruins for some time with Bipp showing the way, translating ancient writings that marked directions. The gnomes of old were very pragmatic in their construction. Ahead of them, the hallway ended in double doors before veering sharply to the left.
“There’s the king’s court up ahead!” Bipp exclaimed, scurrying onward in excitement.
Grubble lunged forward, yanking the engineer back by his collar. “Watch yer step, ye idjit,” he warned, slap
ping the back of Bipp’s head and pointing to the walls. They were lined with fist-sized portholes.
“Looks like a defense system, probably set up to stop invaders,” Corbin guessed.
“‘Course it is, standard gnome build-out. Ye just have to step in the right order.” Grubble explained, referring to the large square floor tiles.
“Hard to see what the patterns are,” Logan said. “How are we going to get across?” He was anxious to get inside. They were so close to uncovering Mr. Beauford’s mystery; he could feel it in his bones.
“I could always throw you across to test it out,” Grubble offered. “Bah…I’m just kidding. First thing is don’t be steppin’ where them dead rats are.” He pointed to the cobold corpses that lay about the wide hall, marking wrong paths. “Secondly, these dogs must have figured out the right path. Ye can see where some of them are much less dusty, must be used more often.”
Corbin looked closely at the tiles, most of which were virtually covered in a thick layer of dirt and dust. The gnome’s reasoning was sound. Some of the tiles were clearly used more often, evidenced by the tracks in the dust.
Using this logic, Logan recklessly skipped from one to the next, safely making his way across the trapped hall. Once on the other side he turned to give his companions the thumbs up, signaling for them to follow.
They were about halfway across to meet him when footsteps announced a visitor, freezing them all in place like statues. Logan slipped into a dark corner beside a fallen section of the hall wall just in time to conceal himself from a cobold who drunkenly staggered into view from the side corridor.
The filthy humanoid stopped to urinate on the ten-foot oak doors, completely oblivious to the trio standing still in various locked poses down the hall behind it. Burping, the monster finished with a wiggle then turned around to stretch. He cocked his head and looked at the group curiously, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Then the little dimwitted humanoid sobered up, straightening his back like a board. He opened his mouth to shout.
Logan jumped out of the corner to stop the monster, but Corbin’s voulge flying through the air, hurled like a spear, beat him to the punch, cleanly pinning the vile creature’s head to the massive door.
Grubble looked back at Corbin with a leering smile. “That was a pretty decent bit of slice ‘n dice.” He nodded appreciatively. Adding, “For a human,” he pulled the weapon from the door and tossed it to him.
Logan was trying in vain to pry the sealed doors free, but they would not budge. “How do we get these blasted things open?” he gasped, exerting all of his force in the attempt.
Grubble grunted, shoving him to the side, and moved in to add his strength, but still the door would still move.
“Not likely to get them open that way,” Bipp said, showing them a mechanism on the wall that he said would activate the doors’ lock. “These runes here would be the way in, just have to figure them out.”
“How long should that take?” Logan asked, disappointed at being slowed down yet again.
“Hmmm…could be some time, lads. This is some ancient language for sure. Going to have to figure out the right order.” He scratched the tip of his nose thoughtfully, playing out different combinations in his head.
Logan came up behind him and laughed when he saw the runes etched in the wall. Each set of markings was carved into a cylindrical stone that rotated up and down, forming the proper combination across.
“This would have been operated by the king’s guard, a failsafe against intruders,” Bipp murmured, still tapping his nose.
Moving in front of him, Logan rolled the pieces into different positions and stepped back.
“Could be dangerous to put in a random sequence. In fact it’s guaranteed to be,” Bipp warned, stopping him from throwing the switch.
“It’s not random. I saw this somewhere… I think it was an old book I read in Elder Morgana’s library?” he said, directing the question to Corbin.
Looking at the symbols, Corbin felt a heavy sense of deja vu. “Wasn’t in a book she had. These exact runes were carved into the wood above the bookcases in her bedroom!”
“Some old bat had our ancient kingdom’s runes carved into her bookshelves?” Grubble asked skeptically.
“It would make sense in a library,” Bipp remarked thoughtfully. “The four of these together means to say, ‘Knowledge is truth, power is blind.’”
With that, he stepped forward to push in the large stone switch, activating the mechanism. Soundlessly the doors opened inward.
As they stepped inside, Bipp whistled at the majestic throne room beyond, which was vast. The king’s court was so large it could fit half an army and still have a little wiggle room. And the room was pristinely preserved, the strains of time only leaving a stale odor to the air, though the walls were covered with dust and cobwebs. They could see a great battle had been fought in this room, as the corpses of humans, gnomes, and cobolds attested.
“Well, would you look at that?” Bipp wondered, pointing up at the stained-glass ceiling, which held the largest stalactite any of them had ever seen up close.
“It must have crashed down from the roof of the cavern somehow,” Logan said.
“I can’t believe the glass did not shatter entirely from the weight,” Corbin replied in awe.
“Gnome craftsmanship is a thing of beauty, lad,” Grubble said, proudly admiring the ceiling.
The masterfully set stained glass around the hulking rock, though splintered, was still intact. They could see the blue glowing moss far overhead, which made the colorful images iridescent and lit the room.
Across the room, an empty, ornately carved throne of gold with a red satin lining sat at the top of a short flight of stairs with a smaller twin beside it.
“Look up there at the carvings,” Logan said, referring to a series of chiseled marble cameos surrounding the perimeter of the ceiling.
Grubble muttered that he could care less about some artwork. What he really wanted to see was the throne, up close and personal. The warrior made it halfway across the room before smacking hard into an invisible wall, his big nose flopping sideways and his salt-and-pepper beard flattening against the unseen barrier. The companions were startled by the ringing sound the impact made, echoing sharply across the room.
“What in the blazes?” Grubble snapped. There was nothing in front of him but air.
Bipp ran up to check it out, slapping a palm against the invisible wall. Each hit rang dully in the chamber. “Some sort of magical barrier. Never heard of nothing like this before…” He looked up to see if there was anything overhead.
“Some more evil human witchcraft, no doubt,” Grubble mumbled, rubbing his jaw.
“What do these mean?” Corbin asked, pointing to the cameos above.
“It’s like a story retelling important events that occurred during the time of King Thorgar and his forebears,” Bipp explained, having read about Acadian temples that did something similar with their windows.
Corbin nodded. It made sense, the scenes did seem to depict the gnomes coming to Vanidriell and building the great city of Ul’kor, practicing their craft at creating many other ancient artifacts. Story after story played out on the ivory marble carvings. The gnomes explored the land, searching high and low, until one day they came across the Great Crystal god Baetylus, who graced them with his wisdom and warmth. From that day forth, they were devoted to his glory, reveling in the love and promise of an everlasting afterlife. The ghostly visage of the All-Father shimmered into view near Corbin, smiling lovingly at him.
“I…I can’t believe this. I never imagined…,” Logan said, dropping his rifle to his side, deeply awestruck by the revelation. His skin grew pale.
“It truly is magnificent, is it not?” Corbin wondered aloud while the All-Father laughed warmly beside him. “Bipp, I had no idea your people followed the teachings of Baetylus. Why didn’t you join me any of the times I was in prayer?”
&n
bsp; Grubble scrunched his face and looked at him. Bipp furrowed his brow, as if Corbin had just asked the question in a foreign language.
“Corbin...what in the Hel are you talking about?” Logan asked incredulously, emphatically gesturing at the scenes. “Don’t you understand what this means?”
Baetylus silently nodded, looking up at the reliefs in pride.
“Of course,” Corbin said. “I’m being foolish. This place is centuries old, and your people have forgotten most of the teachings learned here.” He shook his head. “What was I thinking? But now that you see…now that we know, together we can be heralds to a new age in Vanidriell. Your people can become one with the Great god Baetylus once more, and the broken bonds between our races can finally be restored.”
Logan looked at the gnomes then back at him, flabbergasted.
“I think he’s had mental break, lads,” Grubble said with a sincere look of concern.
Logan took a couple long strides over and backhanded Corbin squarely in the jaw, shocking him to his senses. “Snap out of it, Corbin, this is serious!” he yelled, grabbing his brother’s head and forcibly directing his gaze back up at the cameos.
This time it was as if they were fuzzy or unfocused somehow. Corbin squinted and rubbed his eyes to make the the images out better. The gnomes came into Vanidriell ages ago; they built great cities, starting with Ul’kor. They practiced deep ancient magic, tapping into the secrets of the universe, and pushed the boundaries of their sciences, propelling technology vastly with the insight of mankind, who later joined them.
Then there was a carving of Arch Councilor Zacharia himself and the rest of the Council of Twelve making a pact with the gnomes.
“But how can that be?” Corbin stammered. “These ruins are ancient. How could the Elders have been here?”
“Keep looking,” Logan said.
Together the gnomes and humans created their crowning achievement, the Great Crystal Baetylus, a tool to bring life to the wilds and spread their kingdom even further into the desolate caverns of Vanidriell. With this mighty construct, they could sustain plant and animal life in previously uninhabitable regions of Vanidriell. However, over time, the Council turned their back on the gnomes’ warnings and shut themselves away from the rest of the land.
Corbin shoved his brother away, staggering back in disbelief. This had to be a mistake or some trick!
Baetylus was still laughing, but there was a different lilt to it, like the keen gloating of a crocodile enjoying a feast.
“All-Father, this can’t be true,” Corbin pleaded, turning to Baetylus. “How can you be a creation of the gnomes?”
“Oooh…the lad has surely had a mental break,” Grubble said. “He’s even talking to himself now.”
Baetylus’ cackling swelled, and it was as if a veil was pulled from Corbin’s eyes. For the first time, he noticed the thin lines of energy flowing from his body, feeding the symbiotic monstrosity before him. His hands twitched and he stepped back from the Crystal god, shaking his head in denial.
The air about the room swelled in a spiral around the white-robed man, whipping the companions’ clothing and hair toward him as his form grew brighter.
“Thorgar’s ghost!” Bipp shouted as the visage became visible to the entire group. “Where did he come from?”
“Foolish puny mammal,” Baetylus’ voice roared in Corbin’s mind. “You should have done as you were told! I warned you to get your brother back to Fal! I told you not to come here!”
With both hands, Grubble heaved his mighty battle-axe at the deity, but the Crystal god flickered and it passed harmlessly through him.
“You should have listened to your God, boy,” Baetylus boomed like the center of an inferno, his face morphing into a hideous otherworldly snarl.
As the winds grew stronger, the false god’s mouth grew longer and longer, lips stretching to the floor and sucking in the air around them. Bipp fell on his back and was pulled in toward the sick gullet.
“Don’t do this, my Lord!” Corbin pleaded.
“It is too late. Now you DIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!!” the Crystal roared with peels of twisted laughter as it crushed Corbin’s mind under the sheer power of its being with one massive blast, as easy as snuffing a candle.
Corbin did not even have time to ponder his fate as a wave of psionic energy tore through his exposed mind.
The visage exploded in the center of the room, throwing their bodies hard into the wall behind.
“By all the gods of Mytar,” Grubble groaned, pulling himself back to his feet. “What in blazes was that?”
Logan was sobbing, begging his brother to wake up as he crawled across the room to his limp body. Even the notoriously grouchy Grubble felt the strings of his heart pulled to hear the young man’s pain. Bipp just stood there, balancing himself against the wall on shaking legs, hopelessly watching his friend.
Logan desperately felt for a pulse that he knew would not be there and wailed in utter despair, confirming that Corbin Walker was dead.
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