“What’ll we do?”
“Socockensmek told us stories about rock-dwarves,” Saxthor said. “I wish I’d paid more attention. He said they were among the Dark Lord’s earliest living creations. They’re supposed to be stiff and simple-minded. Their dull, slow, but strong movements make them good for mining, stone cutting, smelting of ores, and forging weapons.”
“Now, we know they exist.” Bodrin dodged a stone that careened down by him.
The boys observed the endless stream of dwarves as they shuffled forward to dump their baskets of rubble over the ledge. Rockslides caused plummeting chips to shower the area around them. They dashed to shelter against the path’s granite side. A dislodged boulder toppled down and smashed into the tree where they’d crouched a moment before. The old tree trembled. Groping roots ripped up by the impact, flung dirt and rocks in all directions. The doomed tree clung to the mountainside with only two remaining roots.
“You okay?” Saxthor asked.
Bodrin nodded. “The rock dwarves must’ve caused the hammering we heard coming here. From the amount of loose rock below, I’d say the dwarves have hollowed out half the peak. Their mining ore and forging weapons would explain the rusty slime in the stream we crossed.”
“We’ll have to go back and around the mountains before they spot us. Stay alert and keep quiet.”
They hastily packed up and retreated toward the middle Highback. The trekkers walked straight into a fully armed cohort of orc soldiers marching up the trail, cutting off their escape. The noise of falling rubble had masked the rattling armor.
“Stop!” an orc said.
“No place to run,” Bodrin said.
Outnumbered by a dozen, the adventurers surrendered. The orcs prodded them with spears. Satisfied the boys offered a minimal threat, the orcs led them to a causeway and over a moat hidden from view from below. The guards passed the band through the gate and to the rock-dwarves’ captain in the fortress’ entrance hall.
The reception hall was a vast cavern carved from the solid rock with a domed ceiling three stories high. The floor, walls, and ceiling were undecorated. A stone table served as the captain’s desk. Only the entrance and a single passageway down into the mountain broke the reception chamber’s monotony. Rock-dwarf guards stood stiff and blended in around the hall.
“Search them,” the orc’s sergeant said.
The few things of interest to the captors were Saxthor’s ring and the boys’ swords. The ring, in particular, caused quite a stir among both orcs and rock-dwarves.
“What you got on your finger?” the captain asked. He pointed to the glowing jewel. “A dragon? We don’t likes dragons.”
Before the orcs could make Saxthor give up the treasure, defiance replaced his initial fear. The ring resonated with Saxthor’s rebellious energy. Its glowing intensity increased exponentially. When an orc grabbed Saxthor’s hand and touched the ring, the prince’s sudden anger unintentionally focused and ignited the dragon’s power within. A blue bolt flashed from the ring’s Celestial Fire Topaz, incinerated the orc sergeant, and exploded the rock-dwarf commander in a shower of gravel. Both orcs and rock-dwarves jumped back, stunned. They stared at the ash and rubble.
“Cripes!” Bodrin gasped. “How’d you do whatever you did?”
“I’ve no idea, but let’s not stay here trying to figure it out.”
With the soldiers caught off guard, the boys snatched their swords. They turned back toward the gatehouse exit, but the attendants had pulled up the oak drawbridge.
“Quick, this way,” Bodrin said. He bolted for the only opening available, a tunnel that led down into the mountain. The ring’s flash gave Saxthor and Bodrin a moment’s head start, and they raced for the aperture.
“Yeah, this is where the hammering noise we’ve been hearing comes from,” Saxthor said. They continued to descend. “The pounding from some of these side tunnels is deafening. They must be making weapons.”
“Heat from the forges is getting hotter. Probably doesn’t bother rock-dwarves, but I’m tiring fast,” Bodrin said. He poked his head in each passageway as he searched for one going upward. The pale green radiance from Sorblade and firelight from the forges provided minimal illumination in rough-hewn shafts. They half stumbled, half felt their way along the walls.
“Let me go ahead, Bodrin, I have the sword’s glow. The few burning torches are so far apart you can’t make out where we’re going.”
“Low light isn’t slowing the rock-dwarves. You hear stone grinding?”
“Probably rock-dwarf’s joints, they’re catching up to us.”
“Cripes!” Bodrin said. “The noise of hammering metal or banging rocks comes from all the side tunnels. This can’t be the only passageway leading up. We’d have run into the dwarves taking out baskets of rock by now.”
“Keep going; take any tunnel trending up.”
They went deeper into the warren until the tunnel leveled off. The boys passed three openings on the right that led to a massive gathering hall.
“Must be their armory,” Saxthor said. “They’ve stacked lots of weapons, swords, shields, and the like along the walls.”
“No time to investigate; they’re too close behind. If we get out of this, we have to warn Memlatec.”
Saxthor felt his face flush and rubbed the sweat from his eyes.
“We’re going deeper into the mountain,” Saxthor said. “I’m having trouble breathing in this heat and dust.”
“We’ve got to get out of here or find someplace to rest if only for a minute,” Bodrin said.
Saxthor’s heart pounded. “We can’t keep going down.”
“The rock-dwarves are catching up. We gotta go faster.”
Their eyes having adjusted to low light, Saxthor and Bodrin rushed along the corridor. They gained some distance on the slow but steady stone guards, whose joints crunched and ground behind them.
“I can’t stand the temperature and smoke much longer,” Saxthor said. He coughed, sweat rolled down his gritty face; his clothes were wet, and even Sorblade seemed too much weight to hold up. Exhausted, they stumbled more.
The tunnel widened, and two opposing side passages branched off before the main shaft again shrank and continued. Saxthor investigated the hot, rough-hewn passageway on the left, going down a sharp decline with heat and smoke drifting up. Bodrin checked the opening on the right.
“This one turns up. I don’t hear any hammering or mining sounds, but no light’s coming from the other end. Sheath Sorblade and come this way,” Bodrin said as he took the lead again.
They ducked into the corridor’s darkness and felt their way along the rough-hewn walls until, finally, the corridor widened into a cool, visually impenetrable chamber.
“If we can’t find an escape, we’ll have to go back to the main tunnel,” Saxthor said. “I hope the dwarves and orcs haven’t caught up. We don’t want to get trapped in here with no way out.”
“They’d kill us after you zapped their leaders,” Bodrin said - “Cripes!”
“What’s the matter?”
“I tripped over something.”
In the pitch black, a moan rose from the floor. They froze-- the voice was human.
“Who… who are you?” Bodrin asked.
“Help me.”
“No time for chatting,” Saxthor said. “The rock-dwarves will be coming back searching side tunnels any minute. Your voice is familiar, who are you?”
“I’m a prisoner. Save me,” the dry, cracking speech whimpered.
Though the rock-dwarves and orcs were nearby, Saxthor drew and lowered Sorblade. The pale light revealed a heavy iron chain holding a thin, ragged captive to the wall.
“We’ve nothing to cut a chain, Saxthor.” Bodrin squinted back at the tunnel. “We’ll have to leave him here.”
The voice’s familiarity bothered Saxthor, and he lifted the boy’s head. Though the prisoner winced from even low light, it illuminated the figure of an emaciated boy their age.
Bodrin checked the chamber entrance and dashed to Saxthor. “We gotta get moving. Habbernee turned his back on you when you couldn’t advance him at court. Where are his dandy friends now? We can’t free him, let’s go.”
“The rejection still hurts. Even so, I can’t leave Habbernee here. We have to get him out,” Saxthor said. He hunted for something to break the chains.
“We gotta go, Saxthor.”
“We can’t leave him here.”
“How are you going to break iron chains? In minutes, the rock-dwarves and orcs will be here. He can’t stand, much less walk.” Bodrin glanced again at the tunnel entrance. The sound of scraping stone grew louder.
“Cripes Habbernee, you’re in bad shape. How’d you end up here?”
Bodrin gripped Saxthor’s shoulder. “No time to chat, Saxthor.”
“I ran away to seek treasure and got lost. When I stumbled onto this mountain, the rock things took me prisoner. I don’t think they know what to do with me.”
Habbernee’s head slumped.
Bodrin poked Saxthor. “We need to go now.”
“Just a minute.”
Habbernee turned up from one boy to the other. “Since they haven’t killed me, I guess they must be holding me until someone more important tells them to kill me.” He collapsed back on the floor.
“We can’t leave him here,” Saxthor said. “I have to keep my head.”
“We’re doomed.”
Saxthor remembered when the dwarves tried to take his dragon ring. The crystal shot a bolt of blue fire. He suspected his growing fear, and thus inner force summoned the dragon’s potency. The ring’s dragon essence, energy, and capability had something to do with his power no one had explained. He pointed his index finger at the chain links, as he’d seen Memlatec do for court tricks and concentrated on the first link. Eyes squinting, he willed the fetter to open. Nothing happened.
“Stop dashing back and forth to the doorway. Your sandals crunching on the gritty floor are distracting me.”
Bodrin froze. Again, Saxthor concentrated and pointed, directing his energy at the chain. The ring glowed, then dimmed.
“They’re coming, Saxthor.”
The prince’s nerves shot hot and cold. “One more minute.”
Bodrin’s fingers gripped Saxthor’s arm. “I don’t think we have another minute.”
A searching rock-dwarf burst into the room and hurled his spear. As the lance shot at him, Saxthor’s mind raced. The spear seemed to move in slow motion. Saxthor threw up his hand. As he did so, an electric blue spark flew from his ring and incinerated the shaft. The rock-dwarf stood, wide-eyed, staring at the stream of smoke and snowing ash. He stumbled backward. The spearhead skidded across the room’s stone base, breaking the prince’s trance.
“Your ring again,” Bodrin said.
Hyper-excited, Saxthor shrugged his shoulders. He pointed at Habbernee’s chain. A blue firebolt shot from his finger and burst the links. Sparks showered Habbernee, who squirmed and scrunched up in a fetal position.
Bodrin spun around and flung his sword, severing the rock-dwarf at the neck. Its rock elements toppled scattering across the floor.
“You’ve been practicing,” Saxthor said as he adjusted to the energy surges.
“Yeah, well, you’ve been up to something yourself. I won’t ask about the ring, but you have a lot of explaining to do if we escape.”
Bodrin retrieved his weapon and helped Saxthor lift Habbernee, who could only shift his eyes back and forth between the two. Half-carrying Habbernee, the three stumbled under Sorblade’s dim light to an opening they’d seen at the chamber’s far wall during the fire flash.
“Where does this lead?” Bodrin asked.
Habbernee shrugged his shoulders; his head sank.
“No other choice,” Saxthor said.
“Thank you,” Habbernee muttered.
Saxthor squeezed Habbernee’s arm, but he said nothing as he helped his former friend, whose shuffling feet couldn’t hold him up.
I can forgive Habbernee; I’m growing up, Saxthor thought. The anger and pain eating at me are gone. I feel lighter, less weighed down.
“Bodrin, your new sword skills saved us,” Saxthor said. “Your great-uncle would’ve been proud of you.”
“Yeah, he would’ve liked that all right.”
Together, Saxthor and Bodrin supported Habbernee as he stumbled along the corridor. The passageway led down to a chamber with three doors. Without time to study the prospects, Saxthor opened the first one. Hot smoke from forges billowed up the shaft.
“Try the second door,” Bodrin said.
The second passage had no discernible direction or scent, but Saxthor heard faint sounds. “Whoever’s making the noise, they’re not friends,” Saxthor said as he closed the door, careful to make the least sound.
Opening the third door, Saxthor surprised an orc, who gaped at Sorblade’s unexpected incandescence. Saxthor recovered, spun around with Sorblade in a sweeping arc that slashed across the orc’s gut. The astonished creature’s open-mouthed face caused the prince to grimace as the dying orc crumpled to the floor in a pool of blood.
“Check the passage,” Bodrin said. “No time to lose. The rock-dwarves must’ve found Habbernee gone and the rocks of one of their own by now.”
“This course leads up,” Saxthor said. “The air is fresher, and I don’t hear threatening noises.”
“Yeah, well, we’re out of choices.”
“We’ll go this way.”
The three desperate souls stepped over the dead orc and hurried up the slope. Habbernee couldn’t walk much on the incline by himself, and both Saxthor and Bodrin took turns helping him. After what seemed like an eternity of steps and inclines, they opened the door to a modest assembly room. Torches lit the cooler chamber, apparently built with only the one entry. Several chests lay around the walls, one of which was open and filled with gold chains, silver ingots, and gemstones.
“This is a treasury,” Bodrin said.
“Yes, the treasure vault, I was sure they had one somewhere,” Habbernee said. He became animated. “Precious metals and gemstones seem to mean little to the rock-dwarves. They store riches for someone else. Maybe the orcs take the valuables since one was coming from here.”
“We need to escape, come on,” Saxthor said. “We can’t carry heavy treasure.” Saxthor and Bodrin scrutinized the hall for an exit, resorting to feeling their way around the walls.
Habbernee remained immobile, eyes riveted to the chest. “But, all this wealth at our fingertips...” With the wall for support, he raised his trembling body and stumbled to the open coffer. He almost fell into the treasure as he leaned on the trunk’s rim, scanning the contents.
Bodrin turned to Habbernee. “Help us find the exit.”
The prisoner was captive of the treasure. “Behold! I’m rich.”
The trekkers continued to search the walls for a door seam, while Habbernee stuffed handfuls of gold and jewels in his pockets and those of his rescuers.
“We can’t just leave all this.”
“Leave it,” Bodrin said. He raked loot from his trousers.
His bulging pouches dragged Habbernee’s weakened body to the floor, yet his eyes sparkled, and his bony hand held a tight grip on the chest’s rim.
“Drop that stuff, Habbernee,” Saxthor said.
“There’s a fortune here.”
“It’ll only slow us down,” Saxthor said. “Someone comes to collect the treasure if these rock creatures don’t use the stuff. Weight probably means nothing to rock-dwarves, but whoever gets the goods wouldn’t like carrying these heavy chests far through the mountain. There must be a passage from this room to the outside.”
“I think I found an opening,” Bodrin said.
“I located one here, too,” Saxthor said, “but which door leads outside?”
<
br /> Bodrin rushed to the second door. “This is the exit. Note the heavy stone dust there and boot prints in the lighter grime of this one? The rock-dwarves must have brought the treasure in and left their powder by the far entry. These are orc boot prints in front of this passage; they’re smaller. Let’s take this tunnel.”
The boys wrested Habbernee from the treasure’s lure. The trio hurried down the next corridor.
“This does lead to the outside.” Saxthor lifted and replaced a torch. “Lots more torch supports line the sides. Most of the tunnels had almost none. These are for the orcs to find their way.”
As they passed along the corridor, the air became fresher, though with little movement. The passageway ended at a tiny room with no obvious exit. The two fleeing boys probed the stone with their fingertips for a telltale crack as the former prisoner lamented leaving the gold. Bodrin stumbled and caught his tunic on an iron lever sticking out of a niche.
Bodrin gripped the iron rod. “Wonder what this does?”
“We’ve nothing to lose, try moving it.”
Bodrin jiggled the bar. With little effort, the key slid sideways. To the sound of grinding stone, the wall opened. From the outdoors, fresh air and light flooded the chamber. The trekkers rushed out through the opening before the rock could reseal. They started down the slope when Saxthor eyed Habbernee, still in the room staring back down the tunnel. He dashed back and dragged the reluctant Habbernee out as the massive stone door shut.
Habbernee stumbled along, whimpering behind Saxthor and Bodrin. “We should’ve taken more. So many gems sparkled when the light came from the entry.”
All the way down the mountain, Saxthor observed Habbernee mumbling.
“I knew those miners had treasure all along,” Habbernee said. “The prospect of wealth drew me to Tixos in the first place. I can’t stand leaving so much behind.”
When the three escapees got down off the Highback and into the forest at its base, Saxthor recognized the woods. They were the ones Bodrin and he had camped in a lifetime before, or so it seemed to Saxthor. Off to their left was the lake they circumvented to get to Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s lair.
“You think we’re safe camping in the woods tonight?” Saxthor asked.
The Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series: Books 1-3 Box Set High, Epic Fantasy on a Grand Dragon Scale! Kindle Edition Page 18
