Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Longing Ring

by kubasik

  He slashed down at her.

  J'role scrambled to get off the beast, and fell down to the ground. Lifting his head, he saw Garlthik parrying the leader's blow and then the two men shouting at each other. Garlthik was undoubtedly telling the ork leader that they couldn't afford to kill Releana.

  Then the leader of the orks ripped a scarlet jewel from his fur vest, raised it high, and smashed it against a big rock at his feet. J'role pulled back, afraid of the magic it might release. Releana dropped to the ground, as did Garlthik.

  A flash cut through the air where the jewel had struck the stone. He heard the roar of hoof beats rushing closer from many sides; within moments the dwarfs and elves would arrive, and the site of the vanished city would become a bloodbath.

  When he turned back toward the ork leader, J'role couldn't believe his eyes.

  Standing on the spot where the stone had shattered were Mordom, Phlaren, Slinsk Gore, all of them smiling upon the gathered crowd.

  Mordom looked around at the assembly, moving his raised palm: this way and that, the eye in the hand blinking every so often. He turned to Garlthik. "I take it we have reached the site of the city," he said. “This is the arrangement I had with these scorchers."

  Garlthik reached for his sword, but the orks around him drew their blades and surrounded him. Garlthik stayed his hand.

  "One too many tricks, Garlthik," Slinsk said. "I'm going to kill you, but I'll always admire your style."

  The ork leader spoke in his own tongue to Mordom, and Mordom looked out past the crowd, toward the two sets of approaching riders. The smugness washed from his face.

  He said something to the ork leader, who replied sharply, first sweeping his arm toward the flat hilltop, then pointing at Releana.

  Mordom smiled down at her. "My barbaric associate tells me you know the words to bring the city back. Let's have them, quick. I think I've worked hard enough to gather the credit for saving this city." He glanced past J’role and the others again, and this time J'role turned as well. The elves and dwarfs would arrive in mere minutes.

  Releana stood defiantly silent, Mordom threw up his hands. "Enough," he said, trusting his hand into the air and squeezing it into a fists Suddenly Releana gave out a gasp and clutched her chest. She stood precariously, as if about to fall over yet unable to. J'role started to rush forward, hut Garlthik grabbed him with his strong hand and held him in place.

  "I can do many things to you, girl. This is just the beginning. If you don't tell me how to call the city back when I let you go, it will all get much worse."

  The creature began writhing wildly in J'role's thoughts, as if in a: panic. "Do something,"

  it hissed at him over and over. "Do something!"

  J'role slipped out of Garlthik's grasp and rushed toward Mordom, his hands still bound.

  The sudden action startled everyone present. All except for Slinsk, who laughed and slashed his blade at J'role even as J'role raced toward it.

  Then Garlthik appeared at J'role's side, parrying the blow at the last -instant, the swords clanging against each other right next to J'role's ear. Garlthik gave out a cry as the orks around him cut him with their large blades. Through the cries of pain he shouted, "Speak the words! Damn your pride! The city is our only chance!"

  J'role bowled straight into the surprised Mordom. The two of them tumbled to the ground. Over the rising din of approaching hoof beats, J'role heard Releana shout "You are found. There is a place for you in the world. Come home. "

  With one hand Phlaren grabbed J'role roughly by the neck and raised him high, setting his face just in front of hers. "Do you know, I've wanted to kill you for so very, very long now." J'role remembered the man he'd knocked into the pit back at the kaer, and Phlaren's intense reaction to the news of the death. She had carried that hatred for weeks and weeks. With her free hand Phlaren drew a dagger from her belt.

  Suddenly an arrow barbed with thorns sliced through her neck. She held J'role for a moment longer, then collapsed to the ground, dropping him as she did.

  J'role whirled and saw the elves riding up, their skeleton steeds galloping wildly, their bowmen firing furiously into the ork raiders. The orks grabbed spears and shields and braced themselves for the elven assault. The dwarfs would arrive any moment.

  Then something else caught J'role's attention. A shimmering of star-white walls, the dim shapes forming like fog on a spring evening.

  The city was returning, but his view was suddenly cut off as the bleach-white bones of a horse galloped by. An ork leaped forward, driving his spear into the elf who rode the long-dead animal, piercing the elf's chest and knocking him to the ground. Dozens more elves arrived, wielding swords that glowed blue in the dying light of day. While the orks scrambled to reach their steeds, the elves struck them down to the right and the left.

  J'role turned back too the city, the battle suddenly forgotten as he remembered his longing to find it, his desire to find the people who might help him. He stood, still and ridiculously placid as the battle swirled around him.

  The walls formed.

  They weren't new and shiny, as before. They were as Garlthik had seen them. Huge blocks that had collapsed onto each other decades before. Thick cracks cut through the ruined walls. Within the walls he saw Parlainth’s fallen towers, the remains of the city's great halls, the huge pyramids covered with gnarled gray vines.

  Not a living thing stirred within the ruins.

  J 'role dropped to his knees. Stunned.

  The dwarfs arrived, reining in their ponies, shocked by the sight. Even the elves and orks brought their mounts to a stop. The silence descended heavily, broken only by the snorts and whinnies of the many riding beasts in the area. Everyone stared in amazement at the seemingly endless ruins of Parlainth. The city stretched on and on, the once glorious, astounding metropolis now the scene of fractures, cracks, rocks, and ruined buildings.

  None of them had ever seen anything with as much promise of beauty.

  The sight before J'role echoed in his thoughts. The arrival of the city had changed everything. Now all gathered here knew exactly what had been lost during the Scourge.

  Then suddenly, inexplicably the fighting began again. Faces filled with fury, the dwarfs, the elves, the orks all raised their arms once more, shouting their battle cries, and rushing at one another. J'role looked around, incredulous. Only those who at any time had worn the ring of longing— Mordom, Slinsk, Garlthik, J'role, and one of the elves in fine clothes of silk and with the ring of longing on his finger—remained too entranced by the city to continue the fight.

  An impulse overcame J'role, a sudden urge to rush toward the city walls. He dodged in and out of the fight, just avoiding death by sword, spear, and trampling. The others followed him, desperate to finally reach the city, to be where they had wanted to be for so long. Only Releana, of all those who had never worn the ring, joined the race toward the city, following her J'role.

  When he reached Parlainth, J'role staggered once more to his knees, the sight draining him of strength. Shattered skeletons lay everywhere, in some spots become no more than scattered bones. Some of the skeletons had been driven through with swords and spears.

  Others were no more than rib cages dangling from spires. But over this image J'role could still see clearly the splendor that had once been Parlainth. The contrast tore at him, and he thought he would die.

  Then he spotted a street he recognized, even though he knew that was impossible, and he ran for it. Releana called after him. He ignored her.

  Reaching the street, he turned right, and then left, passing ancient bones and ruined buildings, rotted fragments of once-glorious flying chariots. He followed a path he thought he knew, and as he ran J'role began to shake, as if taken by a fever. The sound of his footsteps began to pound loudly in his ears; the air seemed to tear at his flesh. Behind him he heard Releana calling for him. He had lost her, but did not care. What mattered was ahead of him. His "memories" led him forward.

&nb
sp; He reached a fallen building. Its wide columns had collapsed and spilled out into the street; the doorways at the top of the steps lay crushed under the roof.

  But that didn't matter. He needed to go down. Yes. Down. He ran down the side of the building, toward a door leading down...

  Motion behind him. He whirled. A huge ha d grabbed his bound wrists.

  Garlthik One-Eye.

  He stared down at J'role serious. Terrified? Yes, terrified. The ork licked his lips. His voice was dry and cracked. "Not what I expected ..."

  J'role shook his head.

  But then Garlthik smiled, a child trying to make things right with a wish. "But you know something, don't you? Don't you?" Garlthik did not wait for an answer, but grabbed J'role by the shoulders and shook him wildly. "You know something!" he whispered harshly. "I saw it in you. You know something."

  J 'role nodded his head, desperate to please Garlthik so he would stop hurting him.

  "Yes, yes," the ork mumbled and with his dagger cut the ropes that bound J'role. "Here,"

  he said indicating the stairs leading down. "Down here?"

  J'role nodded. Yes. Something important was down there.

  "Lead on."

  They descended the stairs and came to a heavy stone door. Working together they forced it open, but then had to turn away from the sickly smell that came pouring out, Garlthik raising his cloak before his mouth, J’role using his hands. J'role spotted a torch resting in a sconce. He pointed it out to Garlthik, who grabbed it and lit it with some flint from a sack on his belt.

  With Garlthik holding the torch high, the two of them entered the tunnel.

  The red torch light flickered gloomily over gray walls. A layer of dust covered the floor, swirling up around their feet as they walked. For the first time since he had rushed into the city, J'role wondered where he was going. He had seen this corridor before, though he had never laid eyes on it. His memories folded back on' themselves. Yet something called him forward.

  Garlthik looked down at him to see which way to go, and J'role indicated a left turn at an intersection.

  They came up to pit in the ground, ten feet long, stretching from wall to wall. They peered over the edge. Below, two giant skeletons rested on spikes—skeletons of things J'role had never seen before. One was wide and long, with a tail that stretched halfway back up the pit, its bones resting against the wall. The other had a long snout and razor teeth.

  "Horrors," Garlthik said. "The city's traps killed some of them. But not all."

  The Horrors had reached Parlainth after all. Somehow the creatures had found the city, corrupted it. Even after all the elaborate magical machinations, the people sending themselves out of the very world in search of shelter, they had not been safe.

  “Do we keep going this way, boy?"

  J'role thought for a moment. Yes, though he couldn't remember seeing the pit. He nodded.

  "Come on, then.” Garlthik tossed the torch across the pit. It skittered across the floor, but remained lit Garlthik placed his hands against the walls, searching for cracks and studying the nature of the wall. J'role started to do the same on the opposite wall. He slid his fingers between the stonework, and began to inch his way along the pit.

  He glanced down once, saw the creatures, and thought again of all that the people of Parlainth had done to keep themselves safe. For nothing.

  The thief magic seeped into his body as he moved, and the voices returned, sensations returned, the need to be alone, to trust no one, to put on a pleasing face for all. He tried for a moment to resist, for in the face of Parlainth’s failure such warnings seemed futile.

  Who could ever be safe? But the sensations washed through his thoughts and muscles. As they took hold, once again J'role wondered how he could have been so naive as to believe he could be happy with other people.

  The two reached the other side of the pit and continued on their way. They passed many rooms, some with desks, others with baths. Murals had been painted on the walls, but most of them had been ruined by what seemed to be claw scratchings. Garlthik remained silent, letting J'role lead them on. Neither one made a sound as he walked.

  Despite the wisdom of the thief magic, J'role felt comfort walking alongside the ork. Here was his mentor. His ...

  The idea remained stuck for a moment.

  Father.

  He stopped, looked at Garlthik. The ork returned his gaze, his face startled, perhaps anxious. J'role smiled, and the ork relaxed. "You can sense it, can't you, lad?" Garlthik said. "The treasure nearby. The clues are all here. The pit to keep intruders away, the Horrors who died trying to reach it. Don't know what it is, but there's something of value here."

  J'role walked on, and Garlthik followed.

  At one point Garlthik put his hand on J'role's shoulder, stopping him. "Wait here," he said, and stepped forward carefully, examining the stones on the floor. Then he stood, withdrew his sword, and poked the tip at the ceiling above.

  The ceiling cracked easily—far too easily—and after Garlthik poked a bit more, his work revealed it to be a false ceiling. In the flickering firelight J'role saw the tips of spikes pointing down. "Ahh," said Garlthik. "This is a good one." He leaned forward cautiously and pried at some of the stones in the floor. "The trigger is in the floor stones," he said, softly. "You step on them, and the spikes come down. But it hasn't gone off yet. Which means ... Ah."

  He found a stone that interested him. He took his dagger out and slid it against the stone's edge. After prying the stone loose, he pulled it out. He turned to J'role and handed it to him, then leaned back toward the hole he'd created. "Yes. Yes. The trigger's gone bad.

  Look here."

  He stepped back so J'role could see, leaning carefully over the floor to avoid setting off the trap. The hole revealed a series of chains and pulleys set behind the wall. "See here?

  That wheel has come off the axle. It's completely jammed. But better to be sure." Garlthik picked up the stone he'd removed from the wall. "Better step back." J'role did so, and Garlthik tossed the stone forward. It clattered across the floor.

  Nothing happened.

  "All right, then. Lead on."

  J'role looked at him, uncertain. Garlthik laughed softly, then stepped forward confidently, willing to show the way. When nothing happened, J'role followed.

  Huge cracks ran through the walls, and J'role remembered the collapsed pillars and ruined walls above ground. As they walked on they saw Chunks of stone from the ceiling littering the floor. Soon it took great effort to walk over and around the stones. And then they came to a section of corridor completely blocked from floor to ceiling with stones.

  Garlthik turned to J'role. "This way?"

  J'role nodded. More than that. It was behind the stones, just a few steps away.

  Whatever it was.

  32

  The thing was not in his head yet. He curled up in his bed The small sounds of his parents’ whispers, sometimes soothing, sometimes surprised and harsh, crawled into his ears like spiders.

  "It says it can keep us safe,” said his mother.

  "We can't..., " protested his father, then faltered "No one need know. It has promised it won't cause J'role harm It just wants us to give it a place to live."

  His father did not answer.

  Garlthik set the torch in a sconce and joined J'role in digging through the pile of stones.

  For two hours they toiled to remove the upper layer of stones, rested a bit, and then set about their task again. Another two hours passed, and for J'role, the world above no longer mattered. He had no thought of either Releana or the dwarfs or the elves or the orks. All that mattered was getting through thee stones to what waited beyond.

  His hands became raw with pain, his blood streaking the stones. J'role noticed, but did not stop.

  They worked and worked until they could see a door, pressed tightly shut by the weight of the stones on the other side. Garlthik gave J’role a sly look and re-doubled his efforts.

>   When they'd finally removed most of the stones, J'role thought he heard something from behind the door. He listened carefully, but heard no other sound. Then he felt the creature sliding about in his mind, and decided he had confused the sensation of the creature with his other senses.

  They rolled back the remaining stones, and the door stood naked before them.

  "Hold," Garlthik said, and he approached the door, examining it carefully; the handle, the frames; the latch ... Placing one hand on the doorknob, he drew his sword with the other. "Take the torch," the ork said. J'role did so, holding it high alongside Garlthik.

  The ork turned the knob, but the door frame had been bent by the pressure of the stones, and it took several yanks to even loosen it. Garlthik opened it slowly, for the door would not move any faster. As he pried it open with a steady creak, torch light spilled into the room, revealing the shimmer of gold and silver. The light danced across their grinning faces as Garlthik and J'role stepped into the room and saw a treasure trove of jewel-encrusted boxes and silver statues piled high; swords with fiery red blades and buckets stuffed with gold coins.