by Eric Ugland
“I’m confident some manner of magician somewhere in the world has mastered a useless item like that,” Tarryn replied, “but it is certainly not readily available.”
“So you’re sure there’s nothing on this piece of paper?” I asked, holding out the folded bit to him.
He took it from me, held it up to the fire, then did a little chant and a wave of his fingers. Runes sprung out of his hand and swirled around the page. Then there was a bit of a pop. But nothing else happened.
“Never been written on,” He said.
“What was that spell?” I asked.
“A rather personal thing to ask.”
“We are in a hirð together.”
“Is telling you a hirð order?”
“Jut a curiosity.”
“Ah. Well, it is a variation on Lirmu’s Detection. My own personal flavor.”
“Something you came up with?”
“It is,” he said with the slightest of nods. “I had quite a bit of time to study at the Magic Circle. No time for anything else, really. You know, because of being imprisoned.”
It felt like I should say something, maybe about how cool it was that he knew how to make his own spells, but it seemed a sensitive topic. So instead I just smiled, nodded, and turned my attention back to the desk.
The leg wobble still bothered me, so I flipped the desk over. It looked like it had been well-crafted, but the leg in question had clearly been removed at some point, then reattached. A little cutting had taken place, which was why the leg was shorter. Very carefully, using the carpentry skills I’d learned in Scouts, I broke the leg off the desk. There was a small disc of wood at the top of the leg, one that almost matched the rest, but was just a sliver off, like someone had cut the top off, then done something and glued the top back on. I popped it off with my thumb, and looked into a hollow desk leg.
“I think I found her actual hidey-hole,” I said. “The stuff she really doesn’t want anyone to find.”
Skeld took it from me, and started probing inside with a long wire. Where he got the wire, I have no idea.
“The maps are all sorts of places outside the Empire,” Tarryn said. “At least principally. This is a map of Mahrduhm and the surrounding areas. This is Carchedon’s territory, as well as a large portion of the Great Erg. I haven’t been to the Erg, nor do I know of anyone who has survived a crossing, so I take any of this here,” he spread his hand across the paths and trails through the Erg, whatever it was, “as hearsay or legend. I certainly wouldn’t bet my life on any of these oases actually being where this map suggests they are. There’s some of the Great Plains, the Kingdom of Pheddaetis, some of the Northern Wastes. The White Wastes. The—”
“I get it,” I said. “Lots of maps of lots of places. Any of them important? Or accurate?”
“Who knows,” Tarryn replied. “I haven’t been to any of them, even the ones inside the Empire. Gods, I can’t even tell you if the Empire’s capital city is where maps say. Perhaps you have forgotten the manner you found me in, but traveling in chains and a mask was not much of an option. The maps seem real. I’ve heard of some of these cartographers, so I’d give credence to, maybe, half of them.”
“Let’s put them in the treasury. Maybe see if Wian or Nikolai can check for accuracy. Any marks Emeline might have made on them?”
Tarryn spread the maps out flat, and did the same chant and hand gesture. Runes flowed over the map.
The same pop, just a little louder, and certain marks lit up.
They only glowed for a moment, so I tried to memorize where they all were as fast as I could.
“The areas she’s circled—”
“No idea,” Tarryn said.
“The language the notes are in?”
“Code of some kind,” Tarryn replied. “These are the same letters that make up our alphabet, but there’s no words like these. And before you ask me to break her cypher, I’d need a lot more written material to work from than this.”
I sighed, leaning against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. There was a glowing rock in the center, much like most of the lighting used in the base. Magic certainly made medieval living a lot easier. I couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to route all the smoke away from the torches, candles, and cooking fires.
“Look,” he said, walking over to me, “there’s a fair amount to go on here. I will say that whatever was taken from the Magic Circle had to include a few personal possessions of powerful mancers, because some high level magic-users were none too thrilled after that went down and security changed completely. Money was spent making many changes. If you knew the Magic Circle, you would understand what it takes to open those purse strings. From what you have shown me here, Emeline was up to something, and whatever it was, I’m betting it involved leaving Coggeshall.”
“You’re telling me to give up?” I asked.
“Give up? No. Not in the least. But, and this is always where you’re in a bit of a pickle, you might need to give us a little time to go through all this stuff.”
Tarryn gestured to the books and the maps. Skeld was trying to get something out of the table leg. There was something there, but I had no idea what it could be. And I had a shit ton of other things to do.
“Okay, Tarryn and Skeld,” I said, “you guys work this. Either find out where she went or what she was looking for. And don’t run off on your own—”
Tarryn held up both hands. “I have no desire to gallivant about the world without you around. Or without your approval should you choose to sit out an adventure or two.”
I nodded. “Get to it.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
As night deepened, the halls grew less crowded, and soon it was only Ragnar and me walking around. I hadn’t exactly given up on the Emeline search, but I was combining that with getting the layout of my Dwarf-built Fortress in my head. Thanks to Labyrinthian Recall, as long as I went down a path of some sort, I’d be able to remember it perfectly. Definitely a useful skill to have. The complexity of the mountain space was certainly a testament to the work ethic of the Coggeshall Valley Clan of dwarves, but if there was a method to the tunnels, I couldn’t see it. Tunnels branched off seemingly at random, and doorways stood empty of their doors everywhere. The rooms all had different sizes and shapes. I had the impression each room had been carved to a certain set of specifics, but again, no real idea as to what.
We came around a corner, and nearly ran into Timurlan and Harmut, who were in the middle of an intense conversation.
Harmut scuttled back a few steps so he had room to make a small bow before saying, “My lord, apologies.”
“It’s cool,” I replied. “What are you doing down here?”
“Ah, well, it is interesting you should ask that of me,” he said. “I was finishing up a scouting expedition with our new head farmer.”
“You asked me to seek Harmut,” Timurlan said. “I did so, and we spoke on interior farms and underground farming. Harmut here had several ideas on placement. We were checking those potential locations, and I believe we have found the ideal spot.”
“Just down this corridor a spell,” Harmut said, a broad smile spreading out under his beard. “Bit of a natural cave with a stream running through the middle. Got to bring in some soil from outside, widen it out to be about double the current size—”
“Or more,” Timurlan interrupted.
“Remains to be seen the final size.”
“Properly sown and grown, this one field will go a long way in alleviating our potential starvation.”
“Sounds like a great plan,” I said. “I’m not a huge fan of starvation.”
“Bear in mind,” Timurlan said, “the agriculture down here might be a little different than the types of food you are used to.”
“Naturally,” I said. “Things underground are different.”
“But they will be nourishing.”
“Tasty?”
“That depends solely on your cooks,” Timurlan
replied with a rare smile.
“What are you doing down here, my lord?” Harmut asked.
“Just trying to get a layout of the place in my head,” I said. “I like to know where things are.”
“Not much more down this way,” Harmut said.
“There’s a lot that seems to have been dug out, but not a lot filled in. You got a plan for this place?”
“Of course.”
“Care to share?”
“Been doing a fair bit of talking with Nikolai and Lee, prepping to move most of what’s outside inside.”
“Gotta say I didn’t expect so many people to want to be inside the mountain.”
“’Tis a lot easier in here. Warmer, safer—”
“Darker.”
“Aye, it is that. But you have enough magic users to make a difference.”
“But why are you digging out so much—”
“Making sure there are no hidden surprises.”
“Like what?”
“Other things already living here.”
“Is that a possibility?”
“Oh, definitely.”
“The deeper in the mountain you go,” Timurlan said, “the more vile creatures you find.”
“There are plenty of stories of dwarven holds digging too deep only to discover something they should not have found,” Harmut replied. “We do not aim to go that deep though — just trying to ensure there is adequate room for your followers and whatever expansions we might experience in the near future.”
“Exploratory digging?” I asked.
“Precisely, my lord,” Harmut said.
I nodded, and we stood there awkwardly for a minute.
“Right,” Harmut said, “we will be on our way.”
“Good,” I said, “as will we.”
Then they went back towards the more populated areas, and Ragnar and I continued on ahead.
“They were waiting for you to dismiss them,” Ragnar said quietly.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re in charge. They wait on you.”
“I didn’t know I needed to tell them to go.”
“Well you do.”
“There’s a lot to this nonsense I don’t know.”
“Something I realize more every day, my lord duke.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes, wondering what the fuck I’d stumbled into for the millionth time. The lack of knowledge of the world made me go over the conversation I’d had with Nikolai earlier that day. About using the skills and abilities I’d gained. And that made me think over the items I’d found. Or been given. Which made me remember the ring of lost things found. I’d taken it off for battle, figuring there was no real reason for it to be on my finger there. But now that I was looking for something — namely Emeline — maybe it would give me some assistance in the matter.
I slipped the ring on my finger, and tried to focus on the ring. And how I was seeking to find Emeline. That she was lost.
I got nothing. Then somehow the ring slipped off my finger and started bouncing down the hall. I mean, I wasn’t sure how the ring was supposed to work, but one of the primary requirements for a ring is that it remains on your finger. I mean, I thought that was a pretty basic element of ring-ness, at least.
There was a moment of stunned silence between me and Ragnar before we both took off after the rogue ring. But the little band had already managed to get some real momentum behind it, and it zoomed down the hall faster than either Ragnar or I could run. We always seemed to be just a few feet behind it, and should we gain on it, a lucky bounce always sent the ring off out of our reach. Until, that is, the ring came to a dead end. And fell down a hole.
I slid to a stop on my knees, looking down the tiny hole that was barely larger than the ring itself. I put my finger in the hole, and felt cool air.
“Where’s the ring?” Ragnar asked, catching up.
“Down there,” I said, pointing to the hole.
Ragnar knelt and put his eye on the hole.
“There’s a tunnel down there,” Ragnar said.
“What do you mean a tunnel?”
“How many ways can the word tunnel be used?”
“I’m not a fucking dictionary.”
“Maybe you should carry one in that giant fucking bag of yours.”
I needed more respectful minions.
Or just minions in general.
Which I had.
I summoned a few prinkies and threw them at Ragnar.
Then they stood around looking at me, waiting for something to do. My impulse was to have them bring shiny rocks to Nikolai, but that just seemed cruel.
“Get picks. Then come back.” I said to the little cute furry guys.
The prinkies chirped at each other for a moment, then sprinted off.
“You ever feel like those guys are too cute?” Ragnar asked, watching the fur balls run.
“Don’t hate them because they’re beautiful.”
I pushed a sneering Ragnar out of the way, and put my eye to the hole. Thanks to dark vision, I had an idea of the tunnel below. It didn’t look finished in the way that any of the dwarf tunnels were. It looked raw, round with ridges instead of flat and square. Almost like something was eating its way through the rock.
An awful screeching came from behind us, well up the hallway.
Ragnar was up and in position in a heartbeat, his spear out and ready to tackle whatever might come our way.
I had my sword and shield out, blocking half the hallway.
The sound grew louder, but I couldn’t see anything. I could barely feel anything with tremor sense. The screeching made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
After a second, I felt like a bit of a fool. It was the first of the prinkies returning, dragging a pick behind it and letting the pointy bit bounce along the stone hallway.
“You know,” I said, “people are trying to sleep.”
The prinky looked around, confused. But it just continued on its quest to bring me a pick axe. Which it deposited in front of me, and then awaited its next command.
I picked up the pick, and I started wailing away at the stone around the hole.
“You think this is the best idea?” Ragnar asked.
“What do you mean?” I replied. “We’re just opening up a hole into a mystery passage because my magic ring fell down there. What could go wrong?”
Naturally, with the next hit, the floor fell out from under us.
Chapter Twenty-Five
We fell about ten feet to the bottom. Maybe even a bit further. Luckily, we didn’t hit hard stone, like I’d worried. But instead, thick black mud softened our landing. It seemed to stick to everything, everywhere. I tried to wipe the mud off on a cleaner spot on my shirt. It just mucked up my shirt. And it smelled. Not overwhelmingly bad, but there was an acrid quality to it that was fundamentally unpleasant. Tangy. And the damn smell stuck to my nose the same way the mud clung to my body.
“What the fuck is this crap?” I said.
“Geroffme!” a muffled cry came from beneath me.
I scrambled to the side and pulled up my furry buddy. He looked like an otter from one of those dish soap commercials about an oil spill.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
He just glared at me and scraped the foul stuff off of him with a knife.
Then a pickaxe dropped on Skeld from above, pushing his face right back in the muck. I looked up to see a prinky smiling at me as if it had just done a fantastic job. Stupid things.
I pulled Ragnar out again and set him to the side, just as another two picks came tumbling down.
“Enough picks,” I shouted at the prinkies, in time to stop a fourth tool from cascading into the hole.
“I hate those things,” Ragnar said, wincing.
I got a healing potion from my pack and handed it to my otter buddy. He nodded in thanks, and quaffed it down.
The tunnel went in either direction. We’d dropped into the middle of the thing.
“You ever seen something like this?” I asked.
“You mean in Saumiers?” He asked, flicking some of the mud off onto the curved wall. “Oddly enough, no. The quiet lakeside town was strangely devoid of massive mystery tunnels filled with foul muck.”
“What about all the holes in the lake?”
“Didn’t really explore them.”
“Did anyone?”
“I’m sure some idiots swam into them, but no one ever swam out. And no, I’ve never seen mud like this. It’s more like shit.”
“It is kind of fecal like, isn’t it?”
“I’ve got some in my mouth — can we not talk about it?”
“Sure,” I said, bringing my hands up. I accidentally sent a gob of black-mud-shit across the tunnel and smack dab into Ragnar’s nose. “Accident.”
He growled, and then threw a handful of the stuff at me.
It hurt.
Like the snowballs that got traded with the assholes a street over from me back in Michigan. We’d stick rocks or ice inside the snowball to give it a little extra pizzazz, and here it was the same way.
I scraped the mud off my face, and pawed through it. There was a red stone inside. A red stone that refracted the dim light coming down from below.
“You know anything about rocks?” I asked.
“They hurt,” Ragnar shot back.
I tossed the rock at him, a nice underhand throw.
He snatched it out of the air and held it aloft.
“Fuck me,” he said softly.
Sure, it was still covered in a bit of muck, but even I could tell it was an uncut gemstone.
He threw the stone over his shoulder, up into the dwarf-built tunnel above, and dropped to his knees, feeling through the muck. It took barely a second for him to pull up another stone. And another. And another.
They varied in size, but they were all uncut gemstones. All a deep red. You could even consider them ruby in color.
“Okay,” I said, putting my hand on Ragnar, “you need to calm down for a minute.”
“Are you kidding?” he snapped at me. “There’s a fortune here.”
“Yeah, and technically it belongs to me. So that means it technically kind of belongs to you as well. So just calm down.”