The cyclops’ stomach growled, reminding him of the tasty rabbits he had recently eaten. The rabbits were easily caught; he simply paralyzed them and captured them alive. He still had a few left in his pack, and they would keep indefinitely, since they were still alive. They would simply remain paralyzed until they were needed.
Cyril hoisted his makeshift spiked wooden club over his shoulder and began his trek down the tunnel. It was time to go exploring. His eye quickly adjusted to the gloomier surroundings as he rounded the first bend, and the tunnel’s lit entrance disappeared from sight. The stony walls were cold and hard, but gave the cyclops plenty of room to maneuver. Worn cracks in the lumpy floor informed Cyril that this tunnel had been here for a long time. Many feet had undoubtedly traveled along here in the past, and many more would surely follow.
The cyclops wandered for some time and encountered a number of forks in the tunnel as he went. Each time, he chose the fork that he figured led deeper into the mountain. He was surprised he could determine his direction so easily. Somehow he sensed which way led to the outside world. Cyril wondered if perhaps his cyclops half had that instinct built in.
On the cyclops trudged, blissfully unaware of the unseen eyes that followed him. He must have been going in the wrong direction, because the owners of the watching eyes suddenly began closing in on him. They ran quickly, their short legs gaining ground rapidly. Their eyes glittered and their teeth flickered in the dim light of the tunnel. Weapons in their hands also glittered wickedly, a symbol of their evil intentions.
Cyril finally heard the panting of his pursuers and turned, surprised.
The followers were expecting Cyril to turn, and suddenly yelled a war cry, charging the hapless cyclops.
Unfortunately, a war cry was all the pursuers could manage. Too late, each of them realized what they were chasing. The war cry ended as abruptly as it had begun, as each of them tumbled to the ground like dominoes.
In the silence that followed, one could have heard a pin drop. Cyril looked at his would-be attackers with a raised eyebrow. Their large, pointed ears and greenish skin, combined with their distinct smell, identified them as goblins.
Cyril gave a half a grin at what had just happened. For once he didn’t have to feel guilty about his curse. He could paralyze all types of creatures in the mountains and it wouldn’t matter. Nevertheless, he knew he was still vulnerable, particularly when he slept. The cyclops shrugged. He would just have to sleep with one eye open. About to continue on his way, he paused when he realized the implications of that thought. A cyclops sleeping with one eye open! For possibly the first time in his life, the cyclops laughed. The low sound emanated from his chest and vibrated up to his mouth with a sound between a roar and a hiss. His chest heaved as he laughed. Anyone listening would never guess it was a laugh.
Shaking his head, Cyril left the paralyzed goblins behind. They would undoubtedly come to eventually, but he didn’t care. He could kill them, but that was not his way.
A few hours later, he entered a cavern littered with bones. The bones were strewn about, and it took Cyril a few moments to determine that the bones mostly belonged to orcs and a few ogres. Orcs were similar to their cousins, the goblins, except they were larger, larger even than humans. They had large teeth in their lower jaws which protruded from the corners of their mouths and pointed upward. Their skin was the same green color of goblins but their ears were shorter. Their bones were more curved than that of humans, and that was the clue that told Cyril who they were.
The ogre bones, on the other hand, were very similar to the orc bones, only substantially larger. By the looks of it, a group of ogres and orcs had a battle here. Many orc skulls were smashed in, and the ogre casualties had broken legs. The orcs must have chosen to incapacitate the ogres by breaking their legs and then swarming them when they were down. The ogres, meanwhile, used their superior strength to smash the skulls of their adversaries.
Cyril did not know which side had won the battle, but it was obvious the victors had consumed the bodies of the dead. Either way, the battle had taken place a number of weeks ago. The area was picked clean of any treasures, especially with goblins living in the vicinity.
The cyclops sighed and stood up. There was nothing here for him to do. He wended his way across the cavern and entered a tunnel on the far side. It was somewhat narrower than the one he had come from, but he could still walk upright.
“Onward,” Cyril stated resolutely, his curiosity aroused by what might lay around the next bend.
* * * * *
Tyris had been on the move for several days now and he was beginning to tire of the endless tunnels. More than once he had run into roving bands of orcs and goblins. Some had run away while others had tried to capture him. But he had been faster, always managing to escape without incident. Other than that, he hadn’t seen anything of interest. He had half expected to encounter some more lizardmages, but they were nowhere to be found. Not that he minded. They were only dangerous if they were near him. No one could summon an elemental who was already in physical form unless he or she was in sight and close enough to be summoned with magic.
Tyris smiled as he remembered his previous physical forms. One time he had appeared as a female, surprising his summoners. They almost lost their magical hold on her as a result. The fire elemental wondered vaguely how long it had been since his last visit. Time had no meaning to elementals. They needed no sleep, although fatigue would force them to rest from time to time. They were immortal beings, but their physical form could be commanded by summoners, and their form would be lost if a situation arose where it was ‘killed’. The elemental would then be transported back to the realm from which it had come. The summoners would then have to re-summon the elemental, but it would be more difficult depending on how badly the elemental was injured. If the elemental was extremely weak, the summoning spell would fail until the elemental was stronger.
There were rare times when elementals could escape those who summoned them. If that occurred - as it had here - the elemental was free to walk; or swim or fly as the case may be; the realm where mortals lived. This would last until the elemental was either ‘killed’, summoned, or, if it returned to its own realm by choice. Elementals chose never to interfere in the affairs of mortals unless it was something that threatened the balance of the elements.
Elementals generally avoided one another. If a dispute arose between one or more elementals, they could wind up hurting one another and disturbing the world’s balance in catastrophic ways. Earthquakes, floods, storms, and massive fires are some examples of the upheaval mortals could expect to endure should the elementals clash.
But for now Tyris was not concerned about such things. A bigger concern was the magical presence he suddenly felt in his vicinity. A magic wielder was nearby. Elementals always sensed those who wielded magic, and Tyris was no different.
A branching tunnel gave the fire elemental a quick exit from the passageway he was traveling and he ran as fast as he could. Magic wielders were a potential threat and he didn’t want his freedom taken from him yet.
The elemental entered yet another crossing passageway and chose to go left. Several yards down that way he found a narrow tunnel to his right. He ducked into it and proceeded to follow it until he reached a small cavern with three adjoining tunnels.
Arriving at the cavern from the leftmost tunnel, at precisely the same moment as the elemental, was a cyclops.
Both parties stumbled to a stop and stared at one another in surprise. Then the elemental spun for the tunnel to his right and bolted into it at full speed.
“W-wait!” sputtered the cyclops finally. But the elemental was already gone.
Tyris covered a fair bit of ground before slowing. Something at the back of his mind nagged at him. The cyclops had failed to call the usual, “Look into my eye!” A cyclops always tries to paralyze its victim by forcing it to look into its eye. Then it gets to eat its prey in relative peace. This cyclops did not try t
o do that. But then, Tyris was a fire elemental, and the cyclops was as startled as he was. Maybe Tyris did not look edible, with his body perpetually ablaze.
The elemental looked back the way he had come and hesitated. Something else was wrong about the cyclops. It kind of looked - and sounded - human? He shook his head and decided to forget about it. He was better off not to investigate the matter. He was immune to cyclops magic, but a cyclops could be dangerous nonetheless.
Tyris started walking again. “There must be something more interesting to see than orcs, goblins, and a cyclops,” he muttered. “There has to be!”
Chapter 11
Rebecca sighed as she completed another section of the map she had found. So far, the map was reasonably accurate, but there were sections she had to modify and correct as well. The mapmaker who had made the map originally often missed details and got some of the distances between tunnels wrong. Rebecca made a point of visiting unexplored tunnels on her map and adding that information to the existing map.
She was interested in the fact that she was always going downward in gradual increments. The dwarf was sure she was headed in a general northwesterly direction, far from the dwarven realm. The Old Dwarven Mountains were abandoned by her forefathers after the dragon wars when mining opportunities opened up in the southeastern mountains. With the Old Dwarven Mountains all mined out, the promise of wealth was too great and the dwarves had migrated to the new area, leaving the Old Dwarven Mountains barren and devoid of life. Evidence of the dwarves’ existence here was almost nonexistent. Ancient markings on the walls and the occasional mine site was all that remained of the once proud race of dwarves that lived here.
Rebecca marveled at the history she shared with these people, especially now that she was in the presence of these old tunnels. She could now be walking where her great-great-great-grandfather had once walked.
A short time later, the dwarf paused at a tunnel branch that she hadn’t noticed marked on her map. Withdrawing the fragile piece of parchment, she studied it for a moment. Sure enough, it wasn’t marked down. Odd, she thought. The other mapmaker wasn’t all that accurate on his drawings, but he had never missed a tunnel entrance before. Rebecca jotted down the exact location where the tunnel branched off. With that complete, she put the map back into her side pouch.
Rebecca was just trying to decide if she should go down and explore the tunnel when she heard a faint yell. Instinctively, she drew her axe from its sheath and stood there, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Her heart beat rapidly. For the first time in days, she would finally encounter someone. Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.
The yell came again, echoing faintly from the new tunnel. It sounded like a cry of pain. Rebecca decided to go a short way down the tunnel to take a closer look. She wanted to find out what was down there anyway and it could turn out to be one of the lizardmen lairs she was supposed to find for the king. Resolutely holding her axe out in front of her, Rebecca stepped into the tunnel.
Not fifty yards in, the dwarf caught the unmistakable scent of orcs. She slowed and tensed, but did not stop.
The cry rang out again. The sound was definitely not the sound of an orc. Rebecca quickened her pace. Someone sounded like they were in trouble.
Soon the dwarf could hear the grunting and wheezing typical of orcs. Peeking around a corner, Rebecca saw a flickering of light in the distance. She was close. Walking as silently as she could, Rebecca moved down a short passageway and peeked around the next bend. The light that had been flickering off the walls was brighter now, its source around yet another bend. The dwarf crept as slowly as she could and peeked around the last corner.
A wide passageway appeared to the dwarf, lit brightly by a torch carried by an orc who stood only a few feet away with its back to her. Beyond the orc, Rebecca could see a large net suspended from the ceiling. The net was bulging out but appeared to be empty. That was not the case, however, when an ugly green hand holding a dagger thrust upward, jabbing at the net.
“Ow!” cried the net suddenly. There was someone in there!
The orcs laughed and slobbered. They were having fun.
Rebecca was not impressed. Someone was in the net, and though she couldn’t see them, they were in trouble. Keeping her combat training foremost in her mind, Rebecca stepped forward and swung her axe at the orc holding the torch. The axe bit deeply into the orc’s neck, but did not go through. The orc gurgled, dropped the torch on the floor, and fell over, the axe still imbedded in its neck. The tunnel darkened noticeably, but the torch still burned.
Alarmed, the two remaining orcs, whom Rebecca couldn’t see until now because the other orc was in the way, turned around. Seeing Rebecca desperately struggling to free her axe, they charged. One carried the dagger while the other wielded a large club.
The dwarf saw them coming and let go of her useless axe. She stepped backward uncertainly and reached instinctively for her side pouch. Her hand slipped easily around the handle of her new dagger, which she had almost forgotten. With a quick motion, the dwarf brandished the dagger in a threatening manner.
The first orc had to step past its dead companion and ended up overextending itself as it swung its club. It missed Rebecca by a fair margin and staggered off balance.
With a lightning quick motion, Rebecca sliced into the orc’s forearm, the dagger cutting through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter. At the same instant, a sudden flash of light engulfed the two combatants. There was a shriek of pain followed by a sizzling sound. When the flash subsided, the orc in question lay on top of its dead partner. Its entire forearm was turned to ash and disgusting green ooze emanated from the gaping wound near the elbow. The orc lay still, staring at the remnants of its charred arm in shock.
Meanwhile, the other orc had managed to step around the pile of bodies. Fortunately for Rebecca, the blinding flash had left it somewhat dazed. It swung its dagger blindly, missing the dwarf by only a few inches.
Rebecca was tight against the wall by now and had little room to maneuver. Only one move was available to her and she used it. Lunging forward, she thrust her dagger deep into the orc’s heart, blocking its flailing arm with her free hand.
Orcs are ugly creatures to begin with, but the image of the orc’s grotesque face up close was unnerving. A blinding flash was followed by a gurgling noise, which turned into a rush of vile green ooze that ejected from the orc’s mouth.
Rebecca gagged at the horrible stench as the ooze sprayed over her face and shoulders.
A moment later, the orc lay at Rebecca’s feet with a giant hole in its chest.
Rebecca paused to brush the green slime from her face and body with revulsion as she distastefully looked at the carnage around her. Returning the dagger to her pouch, she kicked over the second orc to free her axe from the first one. In doing so, she noticed that the second orc was still alive. Using her axe, she put it out of misery with one vicious swing.
That accomplished, she climbed past the orcs and picked up the torch. The light in the tunnel brightened and she approached the net cautiously.
“Good work, dwarf!” exclaimed the net when she got closer.
Rebecca flicked a piece of left over ooze from her shoulder and suddenly noticed the now-familiar vibrating of her talisman. Magic was at work here.
“Who are you?” demanded Rebecca suspiciously. Whoever was in the net could still be a threat to her and she wanted to be certain it was safe to free that individual.
“Cut me down and I’ll tell you,” said the net.
“Not until you tell me who you are and what you are,” said Rebecca flatly.
“This is ridiculous!” snapped the net. “I’m on your side. I hate orcs as much as you do.”
“Then show yourself,” demanded Rebecca. She was starting to dislike the stranger. “Undo your invisible magic.”
A pause was followed by a mumble.
“What?” asked Rebecca. “I didn’t catch that.”
/> “I can’t!” snapped the net irritably. “Free me and I’ll show myself!”
“I thought you just said you can’t!” countered Rebecca. “I think you should show yourself first. I know you have magic at your disposal. My pendant tells me so.”
“A pendant -?” began the voice curiously. After another pause it continued, “I can’t undo the magic because the net is too tight. I need to be freed first.”
Rebecca didn’t believe the voice. “Fine. I’ll let you hang there until you decide otherwise.” She sat down and waited.
“I’m telling you the truth, you stupid dwarf!” snapped the voice, exasperated. The net suddenly moved and Rebecca could hear the grunting of its prisoner.
“So now I’m stupid?” said Rebecca slowly. She got to her feet. “I guess a stupid dwarf like me isn’t smart enough to save the likes of you!” She started to leave.
“No! Wait!” pleaded the voice helplessly. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean - oh, never mind! I should have known better. Obviously dwarves have no respect for elves anymore.”
Rebecca froze in her tracks. She turned slowly. “Did you say - elves?” All her life, Rebecca had only heard stories of elves and their forests. They rarely crossed paths with dwarves, preferring to stay within their forested areas while dwarves generally stayed within the confines of the mountains. She had never seen an elf before. Here was a rare opportunity to finally see one of the original races of the land.
“Yes, I’m an elf,” conceded the voice.
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” asked Rebecca. She pulled out her dagger and started for the net.
“Noo! Don’t touch me!” shrieked the stranger in the net suddenly. It squirmed and jiggled.
Rebecca paused, surprised. “But I thought you wanted me to cut you down? Now you - oh yeah!” she added, reddening. The elf was afraid of her magical dagger. And rightfully so, thought Rebecca. Even she didn’t know what it would have done had she used it to cut the elf down.
Cloak & Dagger: Book II of The Dragon Mage Trilogy Page 10