“Caius will know,” said Mara. “Let’s show this to him.”
Jager nodded, rolled up the scroll, and tucked it under his arm. Mara started to wince, fearing that the map would crumble, but the dwarves made paper with the same durability as their steel. Perhaps that was a good sign. Perhaps it would allow them to find Calliande’s staff and escape Khald Azalar before Mournacht or Mara’s father found them.
Perhaps that would allow Mara to stop thinking about those she could not help, those trapped in her father’s power.
###
Calliande walked through a shop containing a bewildering number of plates and goblets, Antenora and Gavin at her side.
“A pity no one carved a map onto the plates,” said Gavin, picking up one of the plates and returning it to the stone shelf.
“Upon Old Earth,” said Antenora, “some merchants sell plates adorned with special designs to commemorate events of historical note.”
“How peculiar,” said Gavin. “Why buy a plate if you will not eat off of it? It seems wasteful. I…”
Calliande never heard the rest of Gavin’s opinion, because Jager started shouting from the Market. She turned in alarm and hurried from the shop, Antenora and Gavin running after her, Gavin drawing Truthseeker. There was no sign of enemies in the Market, but Jager and Mara jogged across the tiers as the others emerged from the ruined shops.
“You found something?” said Ridmark.
“Aye, we did,” said Mara, waving them over to a chunk of broken wall that lay flat. Jager produced a scroll as long as his arm and unrolled it, revealing an intricate maze of a diagram marked in dwarven glyphs.
“What’s that?” said Calliande.
“Oh, well done,” said Caius, peering at the diagram. “Well done, indeed. This is exactly what we need.”
“A map of the city?” said Ridmark.
“Not quite,” said Caius, tracing one of the lines with a finger. “It’s a map listing what time merchant traffic is allowed upon the streets.”
“I see,” said Calliande. “Wait. What?”
“Coldinium and Cintarra have such maps as well,” said Jager. “A cart loaded with, say, ore is much louder and much harder on the pavement than a cart loaded with wool or cloth. Or a herd of pigs on its way to market leaves droppings everywhere. So the city curia issues decrees regulating when different kinds of traffic can travel on the street, and how much the merchants will pay for the privilege.”
“How do you possibly know that?” said Morigna.
“Bribery,” said Jager.
“Ah.”
“The khaldari are no different,” said Caius. “Though I expect we are somewhat more law-abiding than Jager’s friends. This is map shows when different kinds of merchant traffic are allowed to use the main streets and ramps, but consequently displays the major quarters of the city.” He tapped part of the map. “That would be the Hall of the West. There is the Dormari Quarter, the Farmers’ Quarter…and there is the Goldsmiths’ Market.”
“Where we are,” said Gavin.
“Precisely,” said Caius.
“I don’t suppose the map happens to show where Dragonfall lies, does it?” said Calliande.
“I suspect very little merchant traffic went to Dragonfall,” said Caius. “But…let’s see.” He traced a line to the heart of the map. “There is the Citadel of Kings, where the Kings of Khald Azalar would have kept their court. And beyond that…the Vault of the Kings.”
“What is that?” said Ridmark with a frown. “The royal tombs?”
“No,” said Caius. “The King’s treasury.”
Jager snorted. “Why would the King put his treasury on a merchants’ map? Seems an invitation to thievery.”
“Because the Vault of the Kings would also take in taxes,” said Caius. “Some of it would be in gold, yes, but others would be in kind, ingots of dwarven steel or hides or wine and so forth. Those taxes would be subject to the traffic laws, and therefore would come to the Vault of the Kings at different times.”
“That sounds compulsively over-organized,” said Jager.
“My kindred are fond of order,” said Caius.
“What does this have to do with Dragonfall and Calliande’s staff?” said Ridmark.
“The Vault of the Kings, if it it’s anything like the treasury in Khald Tormen,” said Caius, “will be the most secure area in Khald Azalar. There will be rooms within it that only the King of Khald Azalar himself could access. If Khald Azalar was built around Dragonfall, and if the King kept Dragonfall’s location a secret…then almost certainly the entrance to Dragonfall itself is within the Vault of the Kings.”
“That makes sense,” said Calliande. Certainly it sounded right. If it was wrong, though, would she remember it?
“The logic rings true,” said Arandar.
“The staff of the Keeper would be incredibly valuable,” said Ridmark, his blue eyes meeting Calliande’s gaze. She was always struck by how clear and cold his eyes looked. “If you were planning for centuries ahead, then you would have placed the staff within the most secure location you could find.”
“All right,” said Calliande. “We should go to the Vault of the Kings.”
“Which suggests a pertinent question,” said Kharlacht. “How will we get there?”
“According to this map,” said Caius, “the most direct route from the Goldsmiths’ Market would be to proceed to the Way of the Nine Kingdoms, the central street of Khald Azalar. We would cut through the Masons’ Quarter, and then pass through the Shield Quarter and the Nobles’ Quarter before entering the Citadel of Kings itself.”
“We should avoid that route,” said Ridmark.
“Why?” said Gavin.
“Because if it’s the most direct route,” said Ridmark, “I would wager it’s the largest route as well. Both Mournacht and the Traveler brought armies with them, and they’ll need all the space they can find to move their men. That will take time, and they might wind up battling each other.” He looked back at Caius. “Is there another route we can take? A back way, somewhere an army would have a hard time moving?”
“I believe so, if this map is accurate,” said Caius. “If we cut through the main foundries of the Forge Quarter, and then through the old mines and across a reservoir…yes, I believe we can reach the Citadel of Kings that way. And if Mournacht and the Traveler brought their entire forces with them, we can likely arrive at the Citadel of Kings before they can.”
“So be it,” said Ridmark. “Unless anyone has any better ideas, we’ll take that route.”
No one had any better ideas.
“We should take that gallery,” said Caius, pointing at an archway opening off the side of the Goldsmith’s Market. “That will take us to the Forge Quarter proper, and then to the foundry levels. An entrance to the mines should be nearby.” He looked at the map for a moment longer. “We shall have to exercise caution. Almost certainly the mines open into the Deeps themselves. Anything could have wandered up.”
“Like deep orcs and dvargir?” said Ridmark.
“Precisely,” said Caius. “Or anything else. Whatever manner of creature the Devourer is, for example.”
“If we’re fortunate,” said Ridmark, “perhaps we’ll never find out.”
He led the way from the Market, Calliande and the others following him.
She felt her staff drawing closer with every step, and the sensation filled her with both hope and raw terror.
###
The gallery grew less ornate and more utilitarian as they left the Goldsmiths’ Market, the walls rougher and less adorned, the floor scratched from the passage of many metal wheels over the centuries. There were no glowstones here, and Antenora’s fiery staff cast dancing shadows over the walls. The floor began to slope downward, and here and there Ridmark saw scratches on the wall, no doubt left when a cart of coal or ore had lost control and crashed. Utter silence reigned in the corridor, and Ridmark saw no sign that anyone had passed this way for a very lo
ng time.
Though the hard stone floor preserved little evidence of footsteps.
Ridmark turned another corner and froze.
Seven deep orcs stood there, weapons in hand, the first three gripping javelins to throw.
Ridmark started to dodge, but the deep orcs remained motionless. His companions shouted and raised weapons or readied spells, but Ridmark’s brain caught up to his surprise. The deep orcs were not moving. They were not breathing. In fact, they looked frozen in the midst of movement, as if they had decided to attack and then simply stopped for some reason.
As if they had been turned to stone.
“This might be a problem,” said Ridmark, lowering his staff.
“They look just like the statues we saw in the Vale of Stone Death,” said Mara, taking a cautious step forward. She lifted her short sword of dark elven steel and gave the nearest deep orc a cautious tap. The short sword let out a gentle chiming noise.
“The gorgon spirit,” said Arandar. “It must have patrolled the upper levels of Khald Azalar as well.”
Ridmark shook his head. “It specifically said that the King of Khald Azalar had commanded it to defend the Vale. I don’t think it ever came near the Gate of the West. All the statues we saw were clustered on the western end of the Vale. Once we were within a few miles of the Gate, we didn’t see any more statues.”
“And we have seen no other statues within Khald Azalar,” said Kharlacht. “Until now.”
“A second gorgon spirit?” said Gavin. “We barely got away from the first one.”
“Or a basilisk,” said Caius.
Gavin’s frowned deepened. “What is a basilisk? You've mentioned them, but I've never seen one.”
“A kind of lizard from the Deeps,” said Ridmark. “They can turn victims to stone with their gaze.”
“You’ve encountered one before?” said Arandar.
“No,” said Ridmark. “Well, in a way. The Warden used the eye of a basilisk as a trap the first time I visited Urd Morlemoch. Touching the eye would have turned me to stone.”
“I’m afraid a living basilisk is rather more potent,” said Caius. “Their power is quite similar to that of the gorgon spirit, and a basilisk can turn victims to stone with a single glance. They are quite rare, thankfully, but sometimes the dvargir will capture one and use it as a war beast, like they do with the mzrokar.”
“And we’ve already seen dead dvargir,” said Arandar.
“Can you ward against a basilisk’s gaze?” said Ridmark to Calliande.
“I can,” she said, her expression grave in the flickering light of Antenora’s staff. “But no more than three or four of us at a time, and it will take the bulk of my power.”
“The soulblades can ward both Gavin and I,” said Arandar.
“All right,” said Ridmark. “I’ll take the front. Gavin and Arandar, walk with me. If we see a basilisk, Calliande can ward me, and I’ll draw its attention while you attack. Antenora and Morigna can strike with their magic, and hopefully we will kill the thing before it kills us.”
“Perhaps these deep orcs were turned to stone centuries ago and the basilisk has moved on,” said Caius.
“I doubt that,” said Morigna, pointing at one of the orcs. “Look. This one was wounded.” A gash marked the orc’s stone arm…and beneath it Ridmark saw spatters of dried blood upon the floor. “That blood is a few days old at most.”
Ridmark grunted. “She’s right.”
“One usually is,” said Morigna.
Ridmark saw Calliande roll her eyes, but fortunately Morigna did not notice.
“Then there is indeed either a basilisk or a second gorgon spirit loose in Khald Azalar,” said Kharlacht.
“How very splendid,” said Jager. “Our task was clearly too easy and required more complications.”
“Maybe it is the deep orcs’ Devourer,” said Gavin.
“I think that unlikely,” said Caius. “Neither the basilisk nor the gorgon spirit consume living flesh. Basilisks derive some sort of sustenance from turning their victims to stone. Anyway, the deep orcs wouldn’t worship a basilisk. They would avoid it. And a gorgon spirit bound to defend Khald Azalar would hunt them down, not keep them as worshippers.”
“We’ll keep to the plan for now,” said Ridmark. Arandar and Gavin moved to his side, Calliande behind them. “If there is a basilisk wandering through Khald Azalar, perhaps the Traveler and Mournacht will distract it.”
“The gorgon spirit was more interested in them than in us,” said Jager.
“Then let us hope that continues,” said Ridmark, and he led the way deeper into the darkness.
Chapter 7: Wayward Pets
Calliande walked in silence behind Ridmark and the Swordbearers, holding her power ready.
They had spotted several more statues as the tunnel went deeper into the bowels of the mountain. One group had been a dozen more deep orcs, frozen in the midst of an attack. The second had been a band of kobolds, the lizard-like creatures caught forever as they fled. The sight of them made Calliande’s skin crawl with dark memories. A few days after she had awakened below the Tower of Vigilance, a band of kobolds had taken her captive, bringing her to the decayed Eternalist who ruled them. Calliande had managed to escape, thanks to Ridmark and Kharlacht, but she still did not like kobolds.
Then the tunnel broadened, opening into a wide stone arch, and beyond yawned a vast, nearly lightless space. In the distance Calliande saw a faint, sullen glow, likely another flow of lava. Her companions hesitated at the entrance, weapons in hand. A warm wind blew out of the darkness, tugging at Calliande’s hair and cloak. Ridmark took a few steps forward, his gray elven cloak stirring around him, and gazed into the darkness for a moment.
“I suppose there’s no way around it,” said Ridmark. “Antenora, some light, if you please. Be ready. If there’s anything waiting beyond, the light will undoubtedly draw it.”
Antenora nodded, rapped her staff against the floor, and lifted it high as the sigils upon its length blazed to fiery light. The glow fell across the chamber beyond, illuminating a vast space large enough to hold the Dormari Market and the Goldsmiths’ Market and the Hall of the West with room to spare. Against both walls ran currents of lava ten yards wide, the source of the glow Calliande had seen earlier. Dozens of stone domes, each the size of a large house, stood in rows across the floor, their fronts marked with square entrances. Chimneys of dwarven steel rose from the apex of the domes, joining together to form an intricate maze along the ceiling. Various pieces of debris lay scattered across the floor – dwarven bones and armor, the occasional armor of a Frostborn and the dead hulk of a locusar, carts holding both coal and raw iron ore, stacks of ingots of dwarven steel. Calliande found herself awed at the size of the room, at the scale of the industry it represented.
“The foundry level,” said Caius. “We are indeed in the Forge Quarter.” He waved a hand at the stone domes. “Those were blast furnaces. The smiths of Khald Azalar made dwarven steel here.”
“Power,” said Mara, blinking. “There are several sources of magical power within the room.”
“I see them as well,” said Antenora.
Calliande cast the spell to sense the presence of magical forces, and saw Morigna doing so as well. She sensed a considerable amount of magical power bound in the furnaces’ stone domes. Likely those were the warding and augmentation glyphs that Caius had mentioned, designed to keep the blast furnaces from exploding. She sensed other sources of power scattered around the floor. Magical weapons, perhaps, similar to the enspelled dwarven war axe Ridmark carried at his belt?
“Is any of it dangerous?” said Ridmark.
“I do not believe so,” said Calliande. “We should probably stay out of the blast furnaces, though.”
“Yes, I’ve no wish to live out the story of Nebuchadnezzar and the fiery furnace,” said Jager.
“That’s not the only reason,” said Caius. “Come and I shall show you something.”
�
��Morigna,” said Ridmark. “Your spell to sense weight upon stone. Keep it active, please. There are a lot of places to hide in here, and I would prefer not to be surprised.” Morigna cast the spell, and Calliande sensed the flicker of earth magic that extended from her and into the floor beneath their boots.
Caius led the way into the foundry chamber, picking his way over the bones and armor. He looked this way and that, nodded to himself, stooped, and picked something up.
“I believe this,” he said, holding out his hand, “is what you sensed.”
He held a square tile of stone about three inches across. A dwarven glyph glowed with sullen light in its center.
“What is it?” said Calliande.
“There is potent magic bound within it,” said Antenora.
“We called them activation stones,” said Caius. He pointed at the square entrance to the nearest blast furnace. Unsurprisingly, the interior was sooty black, but Calliande saw dozens of similar glyphs emitting pale light within the furnace. “There is a corresponding glyph within the furnace. Place the activation stone upon the glyph, and the magic will summon a considerable amount of elemental fire, similar to what we saw in the High Gate.”
“Ah,” said Jager. “That’s how you get the fire hot enough. You charge the blast furnace with the ore and the coal, and then use the activation stone to summon magical fire. The resultant inferno is hot enough to create dwarven steel.”
“There is more to the process, but that is how it begins,” said Caius. He smiled at Ridmark. “Though I suppose if I was the Gray Knight, I would have just flung the activation stone into the furnace, observed the explosion, and then explained what I was doing.”
Calliande laughed at that. “You do have a flair for the dramatic, Ridmark.”
“I don’t understand,” said Arandar.
Ridmark took the activation stone, a thoughtful expression his face, and then tucked it into a belt pouch. “I set some marsh gas on fire once to prove a point. Apparently it’s not the sort of thing people forget.”
Frostborn: The Broken Mage Page 10