by Troy Osgood
The new tunnel was dark, just the pulsing glow from behind them. It ran for about fifty feet before sharply turning to the south. Beyond the corner, the floor sloped down.
Not as rough as the cavern, which looked to have been carved by the flowing river and time, the tunnel wasn’t smooth. Walls sloped up to the rounded ceiling, sometimes angling in toward the tunnel and others angling away. It gave the whole thing an odd look, making it hard for the eyes to follow.
Turning the corner, the tunnel continued for another hundred feet. While the floor wasn’t as steep as the tunnel from outside, Hall knew they were going deep underground.
It turned again, heading in the direction they had come. With a slight slope as they walked, Hall was positive they were heading under the river of concentrated magical energy. He wondered what to call it. Ley river?
Hall knew exactly when they had passed under. The jittery feeling returned, like he was full of energy, and it passed just as quick.
The tunnel started sloping up, continuing for fifty feet or so past the river, dozens of feet of solid rock above. It turned sharply north, the slope up increasing. More of the same rough rock and varying angled walls. Hall pulled up his map, trying to see where they were in relation to the entrance. They were circling back, but passed under the original tunnel. Couldn’t have been that deep below, he thought. The slope leveled out, running relatively flat again. Looking at his map, Hall saw they were running parallel to the ley river. He assumed they were about even with it.
Ahead, Caryn and Jackoby stopped. Hall could just see more of the blue-white glow beyond, just barely visible through an opening. They had lost the glow through the turns of the tunnel, relying on various forms of dark vision, afraid to light torches. For the ones without dark vision, they had stumbled along, guided by the others. It had been very slow going, Jackoby explaining everything to Caryn, who tried to interpret if there was a trap or not.
They’d gotten lucky there had been none.
Hall wondered why the Desmarik, and he was pretty sure it was just the Desmarik Republic in the tunnels at this point, hadn’t set any. Did they feel safe enough in the remote location of Warfang Hill with miles of Expedition-controlled territory around them? It was a reasonable assumption. As far as the Expedition and Desmarik were concerned, no one knew about Warfang Hill and the possibility it could be the source.
Moving up next to Caryn and Jackoby, Hall could hear what had made them stop. Voices came from ahead, the blue-white glow steady. A couple different, loud, almost growling. What he recognized as the Desmarik language. There were a couple more animalistic growls, noises he knew as demonic. Barghas. Hidden between the louder was a near constant skittering sound, clacks against the stone. And a lower voice, more musical. Norns?
Hall couldn’t understand the words. Just the sounds. A murmuring, all the different voices and growls mixing together.
Moving slowly, they crept forward, working hard not to let weapons hit stone or armor. Jackoby stopped, face angry, not as silent as the other two. He motioned them to keep going. Hall was surprised. Jackoby felt he owed Hall a life debt, thinking he had to protect Hall. It had started off bad, in Hall’s opinion, Jackoby too rigid. But time had dulled the Firbolg’s view. Jackoby knew there were times that he had to let Hall do what needed to be done. Hall reached out, clasping Jackoby’s shoulder before moving on.
The distance to the opening dwindled, the opening growing bigger. But Hall still couldn’t see much of the cavern. The darkness wasn’t as deep, the blue-white glow still diffuse, but the shadows were odd. He couldn’t see far, like a wall was there, but the glow came from above.
Creeping closer, at the entrance, Hall saw a large cavern. Or what looked to be a large cavern. It spread out to the sides, but sloped up steeply to the top about twenty feet above.
It appeared to be flat, the glow sending shadows that looked to be people and some odd ones that had to be demons.
There was no way to get an accurate count or view of the top. He started to slip out into the cavern but stopped, seeing shadows moving to the side. Large, lumbering, it growled. He didn’t think it had seen him, the thing coming closer but turning, looking up to the top of the mound. It was some kind of demon, details lost in shadow. A Mosic or Stontle. Grumbling, the demon moved back around toward the far side of the cavern. Its shadow looked to be climbing the mound.
Hall watched the demon shape lumber up the steep side, reach the top but instead of staying the same size and disappearing, it started to shrink. First the legs, then body and finally head. It was walking down a slope. The mound wasn’t a hill, it was a wall.
Moving back, in a whisper he told Caryn what he suspected. Hall reached up, removing his harness holding the three javelins in place, setting it and his spear down near Jackoby. He was worried that Caryn wouldn’t have enough light to see, but with the ambient light provided by the glow, she seemed to be doing fine.
Together they stepped to the opening, looking both ways, making sure there was nothing visible at the bottom of the mound. Not seeing any demons or anything else, they each picked a direction. Caryn went left; Hall went right.
He walked about fifty feet, the sloping wall to his left, straight and rough rock to the right, when he hit the end of the cavern. Turning, he started up the steep slope. Crouching low, he was glad it seemed to be made of solid stone. Nothing loose that could cause him to slip. He neared the top, slowing down, the sounds getting louder.
Hall slowly lifted his head above the top of the wall. It was a sharp edge, rapidly sloping down to a bowl. Surrounded by the sloping wall on three sides and the end of the cavern on the other, the bottom of the bowl contained a small pool. Only about five feet in diameter, it was filled with the blue-white thick liquid of the ley line. A small stream, barely a foot wide, flowed to the east, disappearing under the stone wall where Hall was. Concentrated magical energy, but not enough to make Hall feel jittery or his Energy meter to pulse.
But apparently it was enough for the Desmarik.
A small group was gathered at the edge of the pool. Three warriors and two robed priests. One was the Warreaver Hall had seen in Cliff’s Walk. They were talking with four Norns. Two in robes, two in white armor. Voices were raised, but in argument or just trying to be heard over the other sounds in the cavern? With all the noise, Hall couldn’t make out words.
There was a cluster of demons along the flat cavern wall, along with another robed Runepriest, who seemed to be supervising the demons. Four Barghas, two Mosics, two Stontles and dozens of small Skiterks. The small crablike demons, with three eyestalks, skittered around the room. Their legs clacked against the stone. Hall didn’t like the numbers.
He couldn’t see a way down that wouldn’t open them up to attack from below.
Hall moved his attention back to the small pool, what he could barely call a pool.
It was obvious this was the source of the corruption.
The blue-white glow, what little there was coming from the pool, was enough to show tendrils of thick vines running across the floor, hitting the stone walls and spreading up the surfaces. Somehow the Desmarik and Norns were using the pool to create the corruption.
They were pretty close to the surface. Pulling up his mental map, he noted where the ley river was and the circling route they had taken, which had brought them to a point close to the exterior of Warfang Hill. Which was probably why the Desmarik had chosen this pool and not the river itself.
Had they created the pool? Somehow tapping off the ley line? Or had this always been here and they’d just discovered it and used it? Maybe there had been a larger pool at one time? Something had formed the walls that surrounded the bowl.
Hall didn’t think it mattered. It just mattered that they stopped the corruption.
Removing the black iron nail, the sign of Vertoyi’s deal with the Feardagh, had started healing the corruption of the Branch in Meadow Grove. There was nothing like that here.
Or was th
ere?
The group moved away from the pool, away from the demons, toward the front of the mound, closer to the entrance to the cavern. They continued talking, but as they left, it revealed a pedestal sitting on the ground a foot or two away from the pool.
The pedestal was low, only a foot or two off the ground. Square, the sides sloping into the top, which was flat. There were runes covering all four sides, a single large rune on the top. Too far away to see what the symbols were, all he saw were thin lines.
But even from where he was, Hall saw the black iron nail. Cracks spread outward from where it was embedded in the middle of the pedestal top, not disrupting the symbol from what Hall could see.
QUEST COMPLETE!
You have found the source of the corruption spreading through the Northern Territories. The Desmarik Republic and their Norn allies have used a pool of concentrated magical energy connected to a ley line to spread the corruption.
THE NORTHERN BLIGHT II
Find the source of the corruption 1/1
Rewards: +300 Experience, +100 Faction Reputation with the Green Cloak Rangers, +200 Faction Reputation with the Druids of the Grove
THE NORTHERN BLIGHT III
Now that you have discovered the source of the corruption, you must now end it so that the Northern Territories can start to heal.
Destroy the source of the corruption 0/1
Rewards: +300 Experience, +100 Faction Reputation with the Green Cloak Rangers, +200 Faction Reputation with the Druids of the Grove
Accept Quest?
FINDING WARFANG II
Journey to Warfang Hill 1/1
Defeat the Desmarik 0/1
Find the source of the corruption 1/1
You have gained LEVEL 9!!
You have gained +1 Stat Point to spend.
Your Health, Energy and Vitality have increased.
The notification surprised him. He knew he had been getting close to leveling, but not that close. The quest had put him over the top. Hall was glad there was no light or sound when he leveled to give him away. There was also no time to deal with the new point, or check how his stats had gone up. Not right now. After the fight. If they managed to survive. He didn’t like the look of the enemy forces in the bowl.
He looked from Desmarik to Norns, using his Identify skill.
Skill Gain!
Identify Rank Two +1.0
Red Growl Caste Wartalker (white)
Red Growl Caste Warreaver (orange)
Red Growl Caste Warscourge (orange)
Red Growl Caste Runespeaker (orange)
Red Growl Caste Runepriest (blue)
Red Growl Caste Runepriest (white)
Cerulean Earthmage (white)
Cerulean Firemage (orange)
Cerulean Airsword (blue)
Cerulean Airsword (blue)
Hall cursed. It was a strong group. The orange levels would all classify as mini-bosses. The demons were known quantities, tough, and there were just a lot of them. There had to be a way to trim the numbers down. Too many casters for the enemy, not enough for his side. They’d be slaughtered running down the slope before they even got into melee range. No way would Sharra, the Druids, and Rangers provide enough cover fire.
What could they do?
He slid down the slope so his head wouldn’t be seen, looking around the cavern. Even though the top of the sloping wall was thin, it was thick at the base and solid rock. There was no way they could collapse it. Same for the cavern wall in the back. Tons of solid stone.
But the ceiling?
Shifting to lie on his back, he studied the rocks above. It wasn’t smooth, roughly dome shaped, small stalactites hanging from the ceiling. All tapering to sharp points. Was there a way they could bring part of that down?
Chapter 39
“Are you sure about this?” Hall asked again, having lost count of the number of times he’d asked.
He stood in the opening, the three Druids and Sharra spread out on either side of him. They talked in a whisper, eyes on the sloping wall before them. Behind were the others, ready to rush in. The Rangers were next in the line, all four with bows drawn, arrows nocked.
Sharra held up her staff, Tulla’s cage hanging from it. The small fairy stood at the bars, looking up at the ceiling. Her inner light was as dull as she could make it, Hall still worried it would be noticed as they got closer.
“They do their part, and I’ll do mine,” she said. “I’ll be useless for days after,” she added again.
Hall nodded.
He wasn’t happy about having to do it this way, but they had all agreed. There was no other way.
Hall stopped just shy of the top, crouching low. Next to him Leigh did the same, shifting her feet. He glanced to the sides, first left, then right, unable to see the others. Sharra, on his other side, held the staff and cage awkwardly, trying to keep Tulla from bouncing on the stone. He glanced back to make sure the others were ready. A couple of feet down, Dain and Lissie crouched, bows against the stone, ready to get up and fire. Around the sides, one of the other Rangers would be next to the other Druids, with Jackoby and Roxhard. Behind the Rangers, Caryn and Angus waited impatiently, Pike on the highland cow’s back.
Besides the plan itself, the hardest part had been how to signal that they were all ready. Any sound could be heard, any flash of light seen. Counting down would be difficult. It was Dain who had the solution, something the Greencloak Rangers used in the wild.
Hall shifted, looking back at Dain, giving the thumbs-up.
Both of the Rangers stood up, holding their bows in one hand, their off. Dain reached into his pouch, pulling what looked to be a small stone out. Lissie did the same. Whispering, only Lissie able to hear, Dain counted down. Reaching zero, both threw the stones at the same time. Hall tried to follow one of them but couldn’t, the thing too small to see. It landed in the corner of the room, without a sound, or at least one Hall couldn’t hear from where he was. Smoke rose from the corner, a small cloud, only rising a couple of feet off the ground, spreading out. Hall didn’t think anyone could see it, but Dain assured him the other Rangers knew what to look for.
Turning back, Hall had already started a countdown in his head. He shifted his feet. Fighting the urge to check to see if Leigh and Sharra and, more importantly, Tulla were ready, he reached zero.
“Now.”
Leigh stood up, low enough down the slope to not be seen. She moved her hands in an intricate gesture, the tattoos up her arms glowing a light blue. Hall couldn’t see them, but hoped on either side, the other two Druids were doing the same.
Reaching the end of the spellcasting, Leigh pointed her outstretched palms at the ceiling of the cavern. There was a shaking, cracks forming as her Earth Shield spell started pulling from the stone of the ceiling. She was directing it down, putting all the Energy she could into it. Dragging small amounts of stone from the ceiling.
Hall saw only hers, the noise no doubt drawing the attention of the Desmarik and Norns below. The shaking increased, cracks widening. Behind him, at the edges of his vision, Hall could see the purple glow from Tulla. She was building up her own Energy, starting her own casting. He still only saw Leigh’s spell taking effect. Tulla’s work would be wasted.
Then two more Earth Shields started to form. At points equidistant from Leigh’s, at an angle, the three forming a large triangle in the ceiling. Smaller than Leigh’s, they still pulled stone from the ceiling, more cracks spider-webbing across the rough surface. Small formations and chips of stone fell to the ground.
Hall thought he heard a crack sound, like a shell of a Skiterk being split open.
The purple glow grew brighter and brighter. He couldn’t hear any words, didn’t think the fairy needed them, but Hall could feel the magical power building. He felt guilty. Tulla was tapping into the magic of the staff and the runes engraved around her cage. It had been designed by the Desmarik to harness Tulla’s natural magic and to strengthen it. At the cost of pain to the fairy
.
Hall couldn’t imagine the pain this was going to cost her. Everyone had been against the plan, knowing what it would cost the fairy, but she had insisted. It was the only way.
The ceiling shook. Each Druid was shaping the stone walls to be as long and as wide as they could, striving for the perfect balance. Tulla’s radiance grew brighter, spreading out. Above, the shaking grew stronger, the walls starting to take on a light purple glow. The cracks widened, more appearing, running from stone wall to stone wall. More pieces fell, an almost rain of small rocks and stone dust.
Larger pieces started to fall, the entire ceiling taking on the purple glow. The Earth Shield walls grew bigger, not just length and width, but height, expanding further away from the ceiling, pulling more stone with them, which widened and increased the cracking.
Hall knew what was happening, even if he couldn’t believe it was.
Such a thing shouldn’t have been possible in the game. There were no mechanics he knew of for it. Spellcasting was pretty straightforward, each spell tightly defined. Duration, size, intensity. All of it was known. Or had been known. Even in cutscenes, nothing like what he was watching had been done.
Tulla was increasing the magical pull of the Druids’ spells. All three of them. With her aid, they were pulling more and more stone from the ceiling. Large amounts, creating cracks as material was removed that couldn’t be replaced. She was adjusting the spells. Something that shouldn’t have been possible.
But it was. He was watching it.
Behind him, Hall heard Tulla’s cries of pain. Her small voice was audible over the noises of the demons, the cries of the Desmarik, and the breaking of the stone ceiling. She started yelling, screaming in pain. The sharp voice cut through Hall’s soul. His guilt increased.