by Jak Koke
He looked down the slope of the mountain, which appeared like red-brown glass in astral space. The level plateau below was corded with thick filaments, like a huge spider web, radiating out from the core. From Sangolin.
Very weird. Pabl had never seen anything like it. The filaments were opaque and knotted, completely unlike normal astral threads.
The rockfall itself was a dense pattern, looped and tangled elements which blocked Pabl’s apprehension of Sangolin’s astral imprint. The patterns of ancient wards against Horrors had been ingeniously formed within the knots and tangles. There were no Horrors here, that was clear. The power of Sangolin forced them away.
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Pabl saw something moving below him, an undulating mass of independent patterns all connected to the center of the web by the filaments. The dancing obsidimen. They looked like marionettes suspended by the knotted red fibers which tied them to Sangolin.
The sight shocked Pabl; this was not how a natural liferock connected to its brotherhood.
Other threads became visible to him now. Almost imper-ceptible to his astral sight. Tiny silk-like strands everywhere, moving, searching. Several were attached to him already. And more followed, thicker, guided by the silky ones to stick to him. They tugged at his consciousness, enticing him to stand and move down the path towards the hollow. Toward Sangolin at the twisted center of the web.
Pabl panicked. Must get these things off. He reached into his memory and cast a simple spell.
A translucent shield appeared in astral space around Pabl, and some of Sangolin’s filaments bounced off of it. But many remained attached and struggled to hold onto Pabl. He cast the spell again.
Another astral shield appeared around Pabl. The filaments buckled and popped, releasing their hold on his pattern. Instinctively he jerked away, his body lurching back. He lost his balance and fell to the ground, crushing something soft underneath him.
“Ahh!” Jan screamed. “By Raggok!”
Pabl tried to focus on the physical plane, pushing up to a sitting position and shading his eyes against the sun. High mist and a black cloud of smoke from volcano on his left hung in a bright blue sky, as Pabl sucked in hot air that smell of decay and sulfur.
“Get off my leg!”
Pabl rolled to the side. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you all right?”
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“No,” Jan said.
Pabl turned toward his friend. “Let me see.”
But Jan would not hold still. He stood and hopped around on his good leg, his jaw set in a grimace against the pain. He screamed curses for a few minutes, but Pabl could tell that his wounds weren’t severe. Jan just didn’t like pain.
When Jan finally allowed Pabl and Celagri to examine his leg, they discovered that his knee had been slightly injured, and he had sustained a bruise to the thigh. Nothing was broken, though he would be in pain for a few days.
Celagri laughed at him. “With such severe injuries,” she said, “I don’t know how you’ll go on living. We’ll just have to put you out of your misery right now.”
Jan glared at her. “Thank you for the compassionate words.”
Celagri smiled at him. “My pleasure.”
Jan ignored her this time. “Pabl,” he said, “what did you see.”
Pabl described the astral image of Sangolin, telling them of the multitude of threads, and how each obsidiman was bound to it. “It’s a perversion,” he said. “Nothing like a liferock.”
They sat in silence for a minute. Pabl could feel the delicate tug of Sangolin in his gut. So close now. So alluring. All he had to do was stand and walk down the path. In ten minutes he could merge with Sangolin. Then he would feel the rush and the satisfaction.
No. Mynbruje will help me. His hand clasped around his jade pendant and visions of Ganwetrammus flooded him.
“Are you all right, Pabl?” It was Jan’s voice.
Pabl looked up into Jan’s face. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine now, but I would like to prepare myself before confronting Sangolin. Maybe we should wait a while before going down.”
Just then an obsidiman appeared over the edge of the This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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rock which surrounded their hiding place. His skin was glossy black, looking almost wet against the red stone as he approached. The paint which made the red strips over his lus-trous black skin was unlike any body paint Pabl had ever seen.
Not like the chalk paste used by the Garen Brotherhood, this paint was enamel, glossy and permanent.
Another obsidiman appeared behind him — emerald eyes and the same red enamel stripes, but underneath it was translucent skin of greenish hue. And another — high cresting forehead studded with warty gemstones. More and more approached; they kept coming until there were eight in all.
The obsidimen came closer, their eyes focused only on Pabl. They ignored Celagri and Jan. The glossy black obsidiman began a circle around Pabl which the others completed.
They did not speak to him, only gestured in the direction of Sangolin as if they knew why he had come, but could not understand his hesitation.
Pabl looked up at their massive bulk and their dead eyes, staring down at him. “Or maybe we’ll go down now,” he said.
This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Sarbeneck, sir?”
“Yes?”
“The dwarf from the village is here to see you again.”
Sarbeneck sighed, pulling his attention away from the smelting to look at the messenger. “Pontin Nemish?” It had only been a week since his last visit.
“Yes, I think so, sir.”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
The messenger nodded and turned away.
Sarbeneck stood up from the wooden stool, feeling only the slightest residual pain from the burns on his skin. He had healed well and was almost moving around normally now. The smelting tent was hot from the elemental fire crucibles, and Sarbeneck had been sweating as he watched the orichalcum ore melted by the magic fire.
The crucibles were large, about the size of a windling, each with two chambers. The bottom chamber held elemental fire in a tight package. The orichalcum-laden ore went in the top and was sealed inside the chamber with an enchanted net which allowed the impurities to burn off. The process was 193
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slow and extremely dangerous, but orichalcum was the most valuable material in existence.
A perfect blend of true elements, the metal could be used to amplify and focus the manipulation of mana in countless ways. Even trace amounts of orichalcum was valuable, if not necessary, for the efficient production of so many things, from giant air ships to grimoires. Sarbeneck had never seen such richly infused ore, especially in these quantities. So he had set his team to keep five crucibles fired up, trying to purify as much of the precious metal as they could for this stupid decorated cavern Pontin had him building.
If that ostentatious sniveler is here to change plans once more, Sarbeneck thought, I will string him from high branches.
He grabbed his scarlet rain cloak from its peg near the tent’s entrance and stepped out into the humid afternoon before wrapping the cloak around him. An oppressive blanket of gray clouds threatened rain, but so far no drops had fallen.
Sarbeneck saw Pontin standing next to the green tent with his two bodyguards. “Ah, Pontin,” Sarbeneck said, walking across the narrow space between the tents. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
P
ontin smiled under his thick growth of perfectly coifed beard. His whining voice grated on Sarbeneck as he spoke.
“Greetings, good sir,” he said. “We come to look at the progress you’ve made on the temple chamber.” Pontin wore a white rabbit skin cloak, gaudy and extremely expensive. Thick, gold bracelets rattled on his wrists, matching his new loop earrings.
“It’s not finished yet,” Sarbeneck said.
“Oh,” Pontin said, waving his hand. “That’s okay; we just want to see how it’s going so far.”
“You’re the boss,” he said.
Sarbeneck led the three dwarfs out of the camp toward the tunnel entrance. The path to the tunnel had been wid-This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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ened and paved with flat stones so that the rock-hauling carts rolled smoothly on their wooden wheels. At the camp perimeter, three ork guards joined Sarbeneck and the others to accompany them along the trail.
Gingreth had set up a rigorous defensive plan to protect Sarbeneck and the encampment from further attacks. But there had been no combat since the first attack, and the orks were antsy for battle. The orks all wanted to guard Sarbeneck, because they figured if any fighting happened, he would be a prime target. The chance for combat was greater if they were near him.
More orks guarded the entrance to the tunnel, giving Sarbeneck and Pontin fang-filled grins as they passed into the cave. The rough rock of the entrance had been cut smooth so that the opening was now almost perfectly circular, except for the floor which flattened into a walkable corridor about six feet across.
White light crystals had been set into the walls at regular intervals so that torches were not needed, and hairline threads of orichalcum graced the walls and ceiling. The threads were spaced about three feet apart, traveling from the entrance along the length of the tunnel in a slow spiral.
It pained Sarbeneck to see the orichalcum wasted like this.
What inane purpose could any of this serve?
Pontin and the other two dwarfs glanced about themselves with awe in their eyes. “This is great, is it not?” Pontin said.
“Very nice,” said one of the bodyguards — a tall, muscular boy in intricate chain mail, bearing a heavy sword.
“Adequate,” said the other. He was older, with graying hair, yet just as tall and muscular with the same silver chain mail.
The air grew stifling and heavy as they made their way further into the rock. The clang of hammering echoed This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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through the tunnel, increasing in volume as Sarbeneck and the others walked. After a few minutes, they approached a group of dwarfs laying the orichalcum spirals. “Wintell,” Sarbeneck said, addressing his foreman — a black-bearded youth with dusty green eyes. “Take a break for a few minutes.”
Wintell nodded in the dim light. “All right, you slugs, relax for a few.”
The hammering stopped and the workers moved aside to let Sarbeneck and Pontin pass by.
The tunnel floor grew rough and pitted with holes as they approached the end. And the air became thick with the acid stench of the Nuinouri. But Pontin insisted upon seeing the whole thing. The tunnel widened at the end into a roughed-out version of the chamber which had been diagrammed on the plans Pontin had given to Sarbeneck.
Nancri stood in the halo of a crystal lantern set on the floor, her black and brown robes clasped at her shoulder by the bird claw brooch. An elemental hunched next to her, firm grasp on a squirming Nuinouri, pressing it against the rock.
Sarbeneck had put Nancri in charge of cutting this last bit because she held the most control over the elementals and the Horror spawn rock eaters. Sarbeneck didn’t like mistakes, and Nancri rarely made them.
Through the settling dust, he saw that the chamber was nearly done. “Take a break, Nancri,” he said, removing a scarf from his waistcoat pocket and putting it over his nose to filter the dust.
She spoke some words in a foreign language, causing the Nuinouri to go limp. More words made the elemental relax into a sitting position.
I do so love this woman’s power, Sarbeneck thought. He’d become more attracted to her ever since she’d saved him from burning to death during the attack. They had dined together on several occasions which Sarbeneck had found much more This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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enjoyable than his meals with Gingreth. Besides being more attractive, Nancri knew proper table etiquette; unlike the ork beastmaster she never drooled and hardly ever ate with her hands.
Nancri came over to Sarbeneck’s side as Pontin and the other dwarfs examined the cavern. The two bodyguards stretched a length of twine across the diameter of the chamber, measuring it. They spoke in hushed tones to each other while Pontin pulled out a scroll which appeared to be a copy of the plans he had given to Sarbeneck.
“What is going on?” Nancri asked.
“Pre-inspection I guess,” Sarbeneck said. “Or something like that.” He put his arm around Nancri. “Dinner tonight?”
She laughed. “And what if I refuse?”
“I’ll fire you.”
“You can’t fire me,” she said. “I’m too valuable.”
“I know.” He smiled at her. “You’re the best I’ve got. Please see me tonight?”
“Oh, I guess.” She laughed.
Pontin approached with bodyguards in tow. “This is looking good,” he said. “Do you actually think you can finish in the next couple of days?”
“It’ll be pushing it,” Sarbeneck said. “I’d rather have a week.”
“Hmm, maybe a week will be okay.”
The elder bodyguard broke in. “Excuse me, sir. I don’t mean to interrupt, but didn’t your employer insist it be completed by the predetermined time?”
A look of dismay flickered across Pontin’s face. Then it was gone, replaced by a smile. “That is true. I’m sorry, Sarbeneck, I must ask you to get it done in two days. Otherwise I will have to withdraw my offer of the bonus.”
Sarbeneck scowled. Raggok spawn, may boils infest your private areas. “I’ll get it done,” he said.
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A condescending smile formed on Pontin’s face. “Of course you will, Sarbeneck. I have full confidence in you.” Then he turned to the his bodyguards. “We’ve seen enough, haven’t we?”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“Good, then we can go.” They started back down the tunnel towards the entrance. “Sarbeneck, are you coming?”
“Yes.”
“Sarbeneck,” Nancri said. “If you have a minute right now, we could discuss the final rock cuts you wanted. I’d like to double check the dimensions of the chamber.”
“Of course,” Sarbeneck said, then he called ahead to Pontin. “I’m sorry, but I need to give Nancri some last minute instructions. Can you find your way out?”
There was a short silence. Then, “Certainly. Thank you for the gracious tour, my friend. We will return in two days.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Sarbeneck said. You miserable rat. He turned to Nancri, seeing a look of contemplation and concern on her face. “What is it?”
She waited until Pontin and his bodyguards were well out of earshot. Then she inclined her head toward their retreated figures. “How much do you know about our good benefac-tors?”
“Not much. Why?”
“Because I sensed some powerful illusion magic around them. Pontin is an adept, I think, but the other two . . .”
Sarbeneck looked sidelong at her. “What?”
“I don’t trust them,” she said. “They’re more than
they seem.”
This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Sangolin obsidimen surrounded Pabl, moving between him and his companions. They grabbed him with strong hands, rough fingers pressing into his muscles, and lifted him to his feet. They escorted him down the trail that was cut into the side of the mountain, and into the hollow where more obsidimen watched. They were taking him to Sangolin.
“We’re right behind you,” Jan called.
The group of obsidimen paid no attention to Jan and Celagri, treating them as if they were less than an annoyance — as if they weren’t there at all.
Jan tried several times to get past the tight circle around Pabl until one of the obsidimen threw Jan back with a casual swing of his arm. The back of his hand caught the dwarf in the chest and sent him flying. Jan landed hard on the rocky trail, nearly slipping off to side and down the steep slope.
“Are you all right, Jan?” Pabl asked.
“Yes,” Jan called. “Just more bruises to add to the ones you gave me.”
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cue.” Pabl had no idea what he would do or when, but he didn’t want Jan to get killed. “If we get completely separated, I will meet you at the base of the trail.”
“Whatever you say.”
The obsidimen escorted Pabl down to the level floor of the hollow. A drift of hot steam had engulfed the hollow, and it brought the stench of the swamps with it. Pabl smelled rotting plant matter and stewing animal waste, enough to bring bile up into his throat. Pabl swallowed as the steam shrouded them, coating him with condensation.
Pabl had the eerie feeling of a recurring dream as he approached Sangolin. It’s real this time, he thought. Or is it?
Out of the white steam came the shadowy outlines of the fallen boulders which made up the avalanche he had seen from above. Pabl considered trying to break free in the mist, but his escorts held him securely, tight grip on his arms, the constant pressure of hands against his back. Then suddenly, the group of obsidimen released him. They stopped, leaving him at the entrance to the tunnel which led to Sangolin’s cavern.
