by P D Dennison
They lost all sense of time and space in the dark and silent fog. They went on for what seemed to Rostioff like hours before they came upon the spot Kaldrinn had said the rope would be found.
“Here we go,” said Kaldrinn, proud of himself for having found his way back through the fog after only having been there once.
Rostioff cautiously leaned over the edge and lowered the lighted tip of his sword down only to see the rope trail off against the rock down into the fog below.
“Here we go?” he repeated back to Kaldrinn. “You can’t possibly expect us to make our way down through this fog in the dark. We won’t even be able to see where we’re placing our feet.”
Kaldrinn’s proud countenance left his face replaced by a much more frustrated one.
“Well, you both thought this was a splendid plan last night. Besides, we have no choice. This is the only way down and the fog is a boon to us ensuring we’ll not be seen by any goblins patrolling the road in the pass below whilst little lumpy over there hobbles down.”
“Little lumpy? Ye’ didn’t just call me lumpy, de’ye’, laddy?”Postgaar’s fury turned his face bright red.
“Simmer down, he’s just trying to get your goat and it worked.” Rostioff chastised before the dwarf could get into a full rant.
“If we make it to the bottom without plummeting to our death’s, I’ll be amazed,” spouted the dwarf as he leaned over to survey the climb he was about to make.
“I’ll go first,” said Kaldrinn, shaking his head in frustration.
He tightened up his gloves and grabbed hold of the rope. Wrapping it about his waist, he began to climb over the ledge and slowly descend into the fog below. Just as Rostioff almost lost sight of his head, Kaldrinn stopped and looked up.
“Come on, it’s fine. See? I’m doing just fine. Just follow my lead.”
Rostioff nodded and waited for there to be enough slack in the rope to follow Kaldrinn’s lead and down he went. Postgaar was shaking his head standing at the top of the cliff with his arms crossed grumbling. Rostioff stopped about the same place Kaldrinn had and motioned for the dwarf to take his turn.
“Come on, you can’t wait here. For all we know, we might not even come back this way. You don’t want to be left to the goblins for their evening supper do you? I’m sure they’d love a nice plump dwarf to roast!” He smiled and winked up at Postgaar as his head dipped out of sight into the fog.
“Oh, blast it all anyway!” Postgaar exclaimed, briefly forgetting they were trying to be stealthy and quiet in this endeavour.
Up came the quick and scolding response of Rostioff. “SHHHH! Move your fat bottom and get down here!”
Postgaar shook his head and muttered under his breath as he slowly clambered over the edge of the cliff uneasily on all fours in a manner very unbecoming of a dwarf. He grumbled, stumbled, and almost fell several times as they descended the cliff face.
Kaldrinn made it down well in advance of the other two and quickly scurried about looking for patrols, wolves, or anything else that might seek to attack them while vulnerable. All was clear as Rostioff came into view at the bottom of the rope. He hopped down the last few feet. He felt quite relieved to be back on the ground again. Postgaar, only about half way at this point, made quite a racket as he stumbled and tripped his way down. He wasn’t more than ten feet from the bottom. Rostioff could just make out the form of his robust dwarven posterior in awkward decent when a rock stuck into the cliff face that the dwarf used as a foothold gave way and he came reeling backward off the wall. Unable to recover, down he went rump first. He landed in a noisy heap, coughing and wheezing. The ground knocked the wind out of him as it came up hard under his hindquarters. Rostioff rushed to his aid, worried he’d broken his back in such a fall. Kaldrinn worried that he’d alerted a nearby patrol with all his raucous and coughing so he decided he should scout the area one more time for any signs of trouble while Rostioff tended to the dwarf’s bruised backside and ego.
A couple of minutes later, Postgaar had stopped grumbling and Rostioff stopped fussing over him so they were off again, on their way south into the hidden pass, headed deeper into the Mystpeaks and a very ancient Rowenwood forest. They couldn’t see the tops of the trees through the fog, but they could see the enormous trunks. Rostioff knew this to be an ancient wood. The road had been constructed of old First Age stone, moss covered and hardened by the many seasons it had seen. Yet much of the road showed signs of recent repair.
They walked cautiously in spite of the fog and the early hour in which they’d chosen to travel. Somewhere high above them and far to the east of the gloomy pass, the sun was rising. The first fingers of dawn’s light grasped at the Mystpeaks and slipped down to find Rostioff and company dim and dreary, all grey and damp in the new light. The dim veil of daybreak did little to brighten their spirits for all they saw were the massive trunks of the ancient Rowenwoods surrounding them on all sides as they moved southward, ever searching for the fabled Dragon’s Maw Keep. The morning rolled on and the fog lifted to nearly the canopy of trees, which was more than five-hundred feet above them. But the fog didn’t dissipate. It hung in the air locking in the dampness and cold close to the forest floor for several more hours.
By nightfall, they all agreed they must be well in advance of any goblin scouting parties. Kaldrinn felt it unlikely the sentries would come south looking for them. The most likely approach of intruders to the Dark Fang fort would come from the Great Northern Plains. They decided to make camp for the night. All three spoke little after such a tiring day of hiking. They ate quickly, decided against a fire, and went to sleep early.
They spent the next day in much the same way hiking through the Rowenwood. The trees grew taller and taller as they descended deeper into the ancient valley.
Eventually they heard the sound of the Upper Sarandanus River and the splashing of a small waterfall. This brightened their spirits for it signalled they had travelled deep within the Mystpeaks to the southeast from the point they had entered. But their newfound sense of determination was soon drawn out by the sound of more goblins.
The road seemed to rise up slightly ahead of them and the cool glacial mist of the high mountain waterfall drifted gently down on them from above. It might have been a peaceful moment, but it came with the sound of goblins barking out orders, and the crack of their oppressive whips.
Kaldrinn suggested the other two stay back off the road in the trees while he went in for a closer look. He crept along silently through the massive trunks on the roadside and eventually found a vantage point atop the rise where the goblins were not likely to see him, but he could see their entire operation quite well. They’d cleared out the portion of the pass that forded the great river and falls and were repairing and reconstructing a bridge that once crossed the pass.
This would prove to pose a great challenge for these three as there did not appear any other way across the chasm. The only options were up and over at the lip of the falls or to head much further east and hope the chasm dropped down to a place where the river was shallow and slow enough to ford on foot. Kaldrinn looked up at the cliff face to his right. It wouldn’t be an easy climb especially for the dwarf. The rocks would be wet and mossy and the footholds looked few and far between. He made his way back down to his companions.
“Bad news. We have a company of goblins up in the pass ahead repairing a bridge. That bridge is the only means across the chasm below the falls. We have two choices. We head east and hope we find a reasonable spot to ford the river as the chasm diminishes or we climb the cliff face the falls are coming over. The cliff face seems the quickest and most reasonable option given the urgency of our mission.”
“Could we not simply follow you up the wall?” said Rostioff as if he was pointing out something that should be quite obvious.
“Well, under any other circumstances, I might say that would seem the most practical approach to our dilemma. However, the cliff face is slick and there’s little to grab hold
of even for an experienced climber such as myself. I don’t think either of you could make the climb.” He looked away up toward the cliff as he said this last bit, knowing how it would be received by Postgaar.
“I’m a dwarf of Stonehammer Keep and as such have been over these mountains a thousand times and’ll travel them a thousand times more long after yer dead, young Kaldrinn! I don’t deny yer’ skill in the wild, but I think ye’ greatly underestimate a dwarf’s mountaineerin’ abilities. We live in these parts ye’ know, ye’ blasted Foolker! We were the first to tame these mountains! My people built the very keep we now seek. They likely built this bridge ahead of us too. Shite bastard!” He kicked at the dirt and spat at it to show his frustration with Kaldrinn’s statement.
The problem was Postgaar knew it to be a statement of fact and that was half the reason he’d become so upset by it all. He looked up at the cliff face knowing full well he couldn’t make the climb on his best day, even if he’d been three hundred seasons younger. Rostioff spoke up to quiet the dwarf and to stave off any rebuttal from the Ranger that might end in a squabble.
“Why don’t we wait until nightfall and see if we can make our way across the bridge then? Is it complete enough to travel over?”
Kaldrinn rubbed his chin in contemplation. “The bridge is passable. Goblins might be dumb, but they’re not so dumb as to leave the only means over that river unguarded. I think you might be right. Night time will give us some cover at least and the numbers we’ll face will be far less. We must not fail or draw any attention to ourselves or we’ll surely be slaughtered and eaten for supper. We’re here very early and they’re here ahead of us, which means they must have a makeshift camp up here somewhere. That means they’ll have three and five man patrols about looking for unsuspecting fools like us to prey on for meat.”
All three agreed later would be best. They headed back up the pass a ways and moved off into the trees as far as they could to the east. There they set up a make shift camp for the day to rest and gather a plan for the coming night’s activities. Kaldrinn was sent off ahead to thoroughly scout the area and to draw them a little map so they could better plan out their crossing. The day was spent impatiently waiting for darkness. Postgaar had a great deal of very vocal input about crossing the bridge directly and fighting off the goblins rather than attempting to do it stealthily. Rostioff and Kaldrinn managed to simmer him down and he finally agreed that to do it as quietly as possible would likely be their best approach.
Chapter 16
A Hip and a Toe
Ravak saw sky and ground whirling around as he shot free of what felt like a mudslide. He was some ten feet off the ground and landed in a heap with Turynn coming down hard on top of him only a second later. Manya tumbled out third with the ponies and packs and she landed off to the left of them. The horses, luckily, did not land on top of her or any of the other companions.
“We’re back,” said Ravak as he wheeled around with arms crossed and his brow furrowed. He looked to the ground to hide the tears welling in his eyes for the loss of Sleipner as the memories came flooding back at him of the day the ram had been savagely ripped apart by Graxxen’s dragon. He had no fondness for the place even if it were the home of his ancestors and a monolith of his peoples' heritage that signified their great power in the First Age. All seemed dark to him. He had little trust the ghouls weren’t lurking just beyond the first door waiting to eat them alive. Memories rushed back at him of the undead surrounding them in the chamber of Graxxen. The gate remained barred just as Turynn had left it. The Black Dragon carcass lay rotting in the sun, well-picked over by carrion birds.
“We mustn’t tarry,” said Manya. “Graxxen will want to return as soon as he feels it’s safe enough to reclaim the eggs he left behind. He knows full well that if we have any of them, his plans for domination will not be so easily fulfilled.” She pushed both men along and they hurriedly tied up their horses after which they scampered up the steps to the only way they knew of into the interior of the great keep. Manya used the magick of her staff to light the way for Ravak.
The walls and halls of the keep were in great disrepair from ages of neglect and the entire place had a very foreboding feel to it that made all three of them uneasy and wanting for the outside the minute they had lost sight of it. They crept along slowly and quietly, trying to keep their heavy breathing to a minimum, which seemed almost no use as all three of them were quite nervous about encountering more ghouls. With every step they took, fine dust puffed up around their ankles on the dark floor below. It seemed like they’d been walking forever when they saw a shadow moving down the stairway ahead of them. Ravak pointed it out to the other two and Turynn took up the lead, motioning for the others to follow at a much greater distance so as to allow him to be silent as possible as he approached the form ahead. He carefully drew an arrow from his quiver and as silent as a feather falls, he nocked and drew it back full as he disappeared around the corner. Only a second passed with him truly out of sight, but it seemed to Ravak and Manya much longer than that. They heard the thwap of the bowstring and saw a shadowy form slump to the floor.
“Now, Ravak!” Turynn shouted his command from around the bend.
Ravak leapt the last few stairs and bounded off the opposing wall around the corner. As his foot touched the wall, he saw his target, a ghoul. It held a bundle of firewood before Turynn had sunk an arrow into its neck. Ravak leapt into the wall and then push himself off and around the corner with both axes raised up. He landed hard on the ghoul. It stumbled over backwards where its unlife ended in one stroke of Ravak’s swift pair of axes. Blood sprayed across Ravak’s face and chest. He swung his axes back around for a second pass, finding home one in the ghoul’s skull sending a hot spray across Turynn’s face and the other in its neck, opening up a geyser of black, sticky ghoul blood that spattered the wall and covered the floor in a dusty, sticky mess. Most of the creature’s head came off. Ravak could barely contain his hard breathing to maintain their silence as the adrenalin of the kill took hold of him. The three said nothing. They regained their composure and cleaned their weapons. They quickly got back underway as cautiously as ever.
They surmised they’d definitely made it to the underground caves that could be seen from the pits above, not far now from the main door that lead into Graxxen’s clutch chamber. The halls were dark as night and the one torch they carried lent little to the eerie gloom of the shadowy caves. The smell of decay grew stronger as they went, giving them the hope they didn’t have much further to go.
They walked on until they reached the door to Graxxen’s chamber. It had been repaired since their first visit. The door stood firm before them. Turynn pushed at it as hard as he could without making any commotion and looked at the other two with his arms raised.
“It’s fixed and locked. What'd ya want me to do?”
“Pick it, you dolt.” came the sharp reply from his sister and she rapped him on the head with her knuckle like she did when they were little.
He rubbed his head gingerly and gave her a dirty look as he turned to go about his business. With a few pieces of metal he’d acquired from Krigaar’s cabin, he’d fashioned himself some makeshift lock picks. With a few clickety-clacks, the tumblers fell into place and the lock came open. He gulped hard and looked at the others, worried by the noise the lock made. A raspy roar came from the room beyond. A ghoul sentry within had heard the lock and signalled for support. In no time they could hear moans and roars echoing through the halls. The ghouls heard them and gave chase.
The three companions scrambled through the door and slammed it shut. Turynn fumbled with his makeshift lock picks and broke one off in the lock.
Ravak steadied himself to receive the ghoul who’d been inside. It ran at Manya. He jumped in front of it and slashed at it first with his right axe then his left leaving two deep cuts in either side of its neck. The head toppled sideways almost completely detached. Manya cried out as tarry ghoul blood covered her face and nec
k.
“That’ll keep ‘em out,” Turynn said.
Ravak turned, nodded and began to use his great strength to heave debris to block the door, ensuring the ghouls would not bash through. Turynn helped him. They could hear the foul creatures outside trying to work the lock, crying out with rage as they realized what he’d done done to it.
“The eggs,” cried out Manya with joy as she caught sight of them. “There are still so many! We’ll have to make quick work of this, but we must handle them with care.”
“How do you expect us to get them out of here now the only way back out has been overrun with the dead?” Turynn had his hands up in the air in frustration and fear at the prospect of the ghouls coming through.
They all knew as they listened to them now bashing at the door from the passage beyond that it was only a matter of time before they got through. Three days remained until Manya could use the staff’s power of Transportal again and they had no food, no water, and a horde of undead only a few meters away, hungry for their flesh.
Nightfall had finally come for Rostioff and company. All felt quite ready to work their plan to get over the guarded bridge. Kaldrinn had already been out and about slipping through the ancient forest, in and around the great trunks of the Rowenwoods to spot the patrols, making some sense of their routes, which didn’t seem at all as organized as they ought to. This, in fact, made it somewhat difficult for Rostioff and company to find their way over the bridge as they had no real way of knowing for sure when the next patrol might happen by.