by Inlo, Jeff
Gluuns feared dwarves even more than delvers, for it was the stout underground warriors who had developed the vision that could penetrate their shroud of darkness. The gray magic of the gluuns absorbed any light that struck their lean and nimble bodies, but dwarves living underground—and at times in total darkness—could detect the merest shift of shadows. Whereas a delver's eyesight was much stronger than that of a dwarf, a delver focused more on what he could see as opposed to what he could not.
Even a delver's other senses would not help pierce a gluun's cover. The shadow magic erased their tracks, and because the slight creatures lacked any scent at all, even the most sensitive delver would have been hard pressed to locate them. The eyes of a dwarf, however, focused as much on shades of darkness as they did on light.
For that reason, infiltrating a dwarf compound was actually one of the few tasks that gluuns normally chose to avoid. The magnificent underground cities were tempting targets with great riches in gems and precious metals, but being caught by a dwarf warrior, and facing the inevitable consequences, elevated the risks well beyond the possible rewards. A gluun caught by a dwarf could look forward to an extended stay in a dungeon of stone, or even an executioner's axe.
Despite the possible consequences, the four gluuns pushed onward, even as they noticed more light reflecting from the passage below than from the opening above. They all realized the stakes, but they would be rewarded well beyond what they could possibly steal from Dunop. They also believed most of the risks had been minimized.
They received assistance in planning and preparation from individuals even more cunning than themselves. Their new masters provided them with a wealth of information. They knew the layout of Dunop without having to previously scout the city and risk exposure. They knew which passages to avoid and the location of dwarf sentries before they even began their descent.
The one risk that could not be eliminated stemmed from the dwarves' ability to judge darkness as if it was a commodity like gold or silver. The gluuns had been warned over and over again; every dwarf was a possible threat and there was no way to account for simple chance. One wayward dwarf stumbling into the wrong place at the wrong time could jeopardize a complex plot of grand design. Such a mistake was unacceptable, but if the gluuns could avoid a disquieted dwarf stare, they knew they could accomplish their objective.
At the end of the shaft, the four darkened forms came to a complete halt. The gluun nearest the opening to Dunop's alleys lowered its head at a snail's pace with staggering patience. Slowly it gained a greater perspective of the underground passage. It turned its head with the same painstakingly deliberate motion. It looked up and down the path before it finally dropped as softly as a feather to the hard ground below.
The remaining invaders exited the shaft in quick succession. Once upon the stone ground of an empty alley, they moved with the grace of an elf. They walked in total silence, never making a single sound even as they stepped across loose collections of gravel and through shallow puddles of water.
Much shorter than humans, the gluuns found the passages simple to traverse. The empty alleys they traveled matched the information they had received. Each gluun had memorized the expected route as well as several secondary paths, and they stepped confidently along a predetermined course. They advanced along ancient corridors and lonely tunnels nearly forgotten by the average dwarf. With insight regarding dwarf sentries and guard posts, they easily avoided every patrol.
While navigating their way toward the center of Dunop, their pace slowed considerably, but their lack of speed would not jeopardize their plans. They understood that even at a turtle's pace, they would reach their goal well before it was time for them to act. Patience and care remained the primary elements of their mission. Carelessness was their enemy, but gluuns were nothing if not profusely vigilant.
Indeed, it took near monumental concentration to edge forward without ever appearing to move, but each gluun tenaciously gripped the one thread of safety in their perilous pursuit. They allowed the darkness of the underground city to merge with the shadows of their gray magic. As a group, they became one with the surrounding stone, allowing their magic to turn away the light and make them invisible.
As they traveled toward the center of the city, the gluuns moved past the towering landmarks that symbolized Dunop's very heart. They were surrounded by ancient dwarf sculpture, and they stepped lightly on roads that had been constructed at a time beyond their understanding.
Carved from the rock, the imposing structures shared a common bond with the cavernous hollow that served as Dunop's underground setting. Every building, every alley, and every signpost merged together with the surrounding gray stone. The billowing shadows, both in the distance and high overhead, served as the backdrop for the dwarf city's intrinsic splendor. The darkness did not cover the magnificence of the sprawling architecture, it magnified it. Dunop gripped its very foundation with the dignity of acceptance to both stone and shadow, a testament to an overwhelming strength that could not be matched in all of Uton.
The gluuns, however, dismissed it all. They cared little for the wonders around them, rejected any momentary reactions of awe. Viewing the inspiring surroundings as a distraction, or worse, a hazard to their success, they kept their mind upon their goals. They simply ignored the stunning views of carved splendor even as they neared the stronghold that served as the very core of the underground city.
Dunop's castle majestically filled the absolute center of the cavernous hollow with its staggering towers and its overwhelming keep. The fortifications stood anchored in the granite foundation like the determined feet of giant guardians. Those same monolithic towers reached all the way to the massive rock barrier overhead that formed Dunop's upper limits. The very tips of the spires acted as the determined hands of titans that would never allow the expansive stone ceiling to collapse on the glorious city or its rugged inhabitants.
With the invaders' target in sight, the lead gluun came to a complete stop. The final path to the dwarf castle would prove to be the most treacherous part of their journey, perhaps even more dangerous than exploring the interior of the keep itself. The number of dwarf sentries reached its maximum just outside the gatehouse and the amount of patrols increased exponentially.
The dangers went beyond the increased dwarf presence. There was greater light directed toward the castle, more areas that might shift a shadow and reveal the presence of the intruders. It was here the gluuns knew they would have to rely as much upon their own guile as the information they received regarding Dunop's passages.
The lead gluun said nothing at first as it inspected several silver lined mirrors that served to direct light toward the lower levels of the castle. It examined the angle of reflection of a single beam sent toward the stone wall and then noticed a small opening in the rock foundation. Finally, it whispered its finding to its cohorts.
"As we were told, light from the tunnels and airshafts are reflected into the castle. Follow the angle and you will see there's an entry point through the outer castle wall. The light beam from this region cuts into the stone foundation several lengths above the ground."
The other gluuns looked toward the mighty fortress. In order to assist their stealth, their eyes were capable of detecting different concentrations of light. Where the beams were invisible to ordinary humans, the gluuns could actually follow the distinct rays reflected from one mirror to the next and finally to an opening through the exterior of the keep.
"Small channel," one gluun observed.
"Tight fit," another agreed.
The lead gluun viewed the comments as a rejection of their original plan to gain access into the inner sanctuary. Accepting the dismissal without wasting effort on argument, it immediately offered a counterproposal.
"We could wait for a change of the guard and attempt to make entry during the transition," the lead gluun offered.
"Too risky," one of the others responded.
"Too many eyes to avoid
while having to move too quickly," agreed another.
"The gatehouse?" the lead gluun offered. "Several openings."
"No. It would only allow us entry beyond the gate. We would still be barred from the main keep."
The lead gluun revealed no frustration as they debated the issue. Instead, it continued its own appraisal of the situation. It eyed the higher parts of the castle. There were wider windows at the peaks of the towers. The gluuns could climb the outer stone walls with ease while allowing minimal exposure to dwarf eyes below, but entering the castle at the highest levels would only add to their difficulties in reaching their ultimate destination. Entering the keep at such a high point could create more risks than walking up to the front gate.
"Any other proposals?" it asked.
The others said nothing, so the lead gluun returned to the initial plan.
"Then we will have to utilize the opening for the light. We were told it would be large enough. Information has been accurate to this point. We should not begin to doubt it now."
The last gluun in line voiced its one vital concern.
"We can fit, but we will block incoming light. It will be noticed. Look around. Light is an important resource to these dwarves. The interior of the castle will dim and they will investigate."
It was a concern that could not be dismissed. The gluun at the lead realized additional action was necessary. Once more, it examined the distinct line of light that was reflected into the castle. Following it back to its source, it understood the process by which the light was gathered.
All the mirrors in the area directed their reflections to one final silver lined plate erected high on a nearby pillar. Through ingenious dwarf construction, the large reflective surface merged the incoming light fragments into one concentrated beam and directed it toward the opening in the keep wall.
"That can be solved. Find cover."
The other gluuns did not argue. They believed they were all equals and did not relinquish authority to the lead gluun, but they all understood the need for immediate cooperation.
Once the others had taken suitable places of hiding to avoid probing dwarf eyes, the lead gluun pulled a stone from the ground and effortlessly scurried up the pillar that supported the final mirror. Once within arms reach of the silver plate, the gluun smashed the rock against the reflective face. It took extreme effort, for gluuns lack great physical strength, but the gluun allowed the weight of the rock to do most of the work.
With the surface of the mirror cracked in several places, the creature quickly retreated back down the pillar. Before it rushed to its own hiding place, the gluun tossed the rock to the ground. It said nothing further to its companions, made no explanation of its actions. It did not need to, as the response of the dwarves explained it all.
After long moments of waiting, two dwarves ambled down the alley and moved directly toward the pillar that supported the broken light reflector. They eyed the smashed face with clear annoyance.
"Young'uns causing mischief?" one asked out loud.
"Probably," the other replied. "Let me take a look."
The dwarf took two diamond pointed metal hooks from his work belt. Utilizing his great strength, he swung one of the hooks high above his head into the rock pillar. The diamond head bit into the rock, anchoring itself deep enough to support the dwarf's weight. The dwarf pulled himself upward, taking his feet off the ground. He swung the second hook much higher up the column, transferred his weight, and then pulled the first one free. Placing one hook above the other over and over again, the dwarf climbed up the shaft with almost as much ease as the gluun.
Once the dwarf reached the mirror, he inspected it and gave a dissatisfied shake of his head.
"Can't fix it here. Looks like a rock hit it."
The dwarf on the ground looked about and picked up the stone the gluun had discarded.
"Probably this one. Young'uns alright. Throwin' stones and actin' like ogres. Should be put to work."
"Indeed," agreed the dwarf on the post as he dislodged the reflector and carried it down the pillar. Once he climbed off the pole, he joined his partner and they moved back toward the castle.
With the dwarves far out of sight, the gluuns came out of hiding.
"Risky!" one of the shadowed creatures stated.
"Less risky than breaking the light beam while we crawl through the castle wall."
"True," another acknowledged, "but we need to enter before they return."
"The way to the wall is clear. Let us move now."
The gluuns moved in unison, carefully avoiding additional dwarf guards and creeping under and over walls and gates that served as the outer boundary and perimeter of Dunop's mighty stronghold. They reached the base of the keep's foundation directly below the opening and deftly climbed up the castle wall, clinging to the stone like squirrels darting up a tree.
The lead gluun looked back over its shoulder to where the mirror had been broken. Once certain it had not been replaced and no beams of light entered the channel, the gluun pushed its head through the gap.
It was indeed a tight fit and the circular walls of the narrow passage pressed against the gluun on all sides. Through perfect skill of motion, it managed to slither through the opening that was slightly longer than the gluun's extended body, and for one brief moment, the creature was completely encased in the outer rock wall of the keep.
Just as it had done at the airshaft, it carefully pressed its face slowly through the exit hole and then surveyed the long, dark corridor. After confirming the passage remained clear of dwarf sentries, the gluun popped out and moved across the floor to deeper shadows. It waited patiently and served as a lookout while the other gluuns gained entry into Dunop's castle.
With the first phase of their plan complete, the gluuns quickly engaged in the second and most uncertain stage. Whereas they were provided with detail maps and plans of the city's roads and alleys, they lacked credible information regarding the castle's interior. They received limited insight involving the passages of the keep and even less regarding the dungeon prison below.
Each gluun was aware of its responsibility. With simple, simultaneous nods, they split up. They moved in pairs and in opposite directions, clinging to the stone walls of empty corridors. Like phantoms in a foggy graveyard, they slunk through shadowed passages seeking main halls, back entrances, and most importantly, descending stairwells.
They believed they had to reach the very bowels of the stronghold's dungeon, for that was where they would have placed the target of their search. It wasn't guaranteed, for it was possible their objective might have been held in a high tower prison. That alternative, however, seemed unlikely at best, and it was the reason the lead gluun dismissed entering the keep at its highest point.
They sought an elf who had committed an atrocious crime against the dwarves. The elf had been handed over to the dwarves by his own camp and his cell would be as much a punishment as a source of containment. The further the elf was placed from the surface, the greater his suffering—or so the gluuns believed.
After a thorough reconnaissance of the castle's ground levels, the gluuns met back at the empty and dark corridor where they had gained entrance to the fortress. They quickly and quietly reviewed the information they obtained and set on a path that would bring them to the lower levels.
They encountered several barriers; locked doors, barred gates, patrolling sentries, and a maze-like collection of tunnels. Despite the numerous obstructions, they never doubted their success. They had already conquered the most difficult portion of their assignment. They had gained access to the keep and discovered the way to the dwarf dungeon. The remaining challenges were easily defeated by master thieves such as themselves.
The doors and gates were the simplest obstacles to overcome. Though gluuns lacked any formidable strength, for their forms were mere wisps of substance, their dexterous nature allowed them to manipulate nearly any obstruction. They did not break down locked doors, they coaxed
them open. They did not bend bars or smash gates, they slipped through and under them.
The maze of tunnels proved to be nothing more than a minor inconvenience. The bleak passages with several forks and wayward paths could not frustrate creatures that avoided light and thrived on confusion. The only surprise was the width of many of the tunnels. While a few side passages were tight and cramped—barely tall enough to let a dwarf through—most of the main corridors were tall and wide enough for sand giants or snow ogres to gain access to the dankest part of the dwarf dungeon.
The twists and turns allowed them to avoid passing dwarf sentries. Crawling across ceilings like centipedes or turning temporarily down drainage shafts, the silent creatures easily avoided every patrol.
Several levels below the main entrance to the castle, the gluuns located their objective. They could not smell him, for gluuns could not differentiate between the scents of elves and dwarves, and the dank smell of the dungeon overpowered all other odors. They could not even hear him, for at that particular moment, the elf slept and did not stir. They could not really see him with their eyes, for he was locked behind a heavy iron door, but they could sense him in the shadows of their magic.
Elves were magical beings themselves, not as magical as delvers, but enough of the energy flowed through their bodies to vibrate through the very shadows of magic. It was the same gray energy that gluuns used to avoid the light, and thus, they could almost see the reflection of the elf trapped in the gloom of his prison.
The elf prisoner was the sole occupant of a block of cells. Every other chamber was empty, and a deep silence hung about the entire area. The heaviness of that solitary confinement was as monumental as the surrounding rock.