A Beginning

by Kira Morgana

  “How else do you think I know what’s inside,” Loric muttered.

  They reached a large ironbound oak door let into the side of the tower. Loric stopped in front of it.

  “This be the place then,” Grimhelm snorted. He looked closely at the stout oak branch Loric had shoved through the handles. “Nae one hae been through here since ye left.”

  “There is usually more than one way in and out of a dungeon,” Thiert pointed out. “It could be that the inhabitants just didn't use this door.”

  Grimhelm scoffed. “Pshaw! There be no creatures here. T'is just a folk tale.”

  “I remember seeing a small creature with green eyes as I left.” Loric frowned as he examined the symbol on the door. The steel design had been inlaid into Ironwood and surrounded by gold. Loric wondered absently why the gold hadn't been prised out by looters long ago.

  “Just ye're imagination, Laddie.”

  “Were there any traps in the main corridor?” the little thief asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, I’ll go first anyway. You brought me along to sniff them out, after all.”

  Loric removed his temporary lock, tossed the branch aside and opened the door.

  The long corridor was as dank and dark as it had been before. Thiert really did sniff out the traps, his crest quivering as he darted around. He spent a lot of time running his hands over the walls and peering at the floor.

  There were three traps within six feet of the door. The third was a set of spikes that erupted from the floor with such considerable force that Thiert turned to glare at the prince in the light of the mage globes Silvertree and Kalytia had produced.

  “No traps, eh?”

  “Well, there weren’t any when I came in here yesterday. The only trap I encountered was one that set off an alarm. That was when I decided that going in by myself was a bad idea.”

  “Just as well ye did, Lad,” Grimhelm growled, hefting his war hammer.

  Thiert frowned and produced what looked like another mage globe. He whispered something to it and made it glow a vibrant orange.

  “A Trap Hunter!” Silvertree gasped. “Only one Mage in Alethdariel is strong enough to make them, my Mentor…”

  “Eliethor,” Thiert said with a smile. “She owed me a favour. This is part of what I asked for.”

  Silvertree sighed, his envy evident.

  Thiert whispered to the globe again. It lifted off the palm of his hand and floated down to a foot off the floor and in front of him.

  They crept along behind the Trap Hunter. It indicated nothing untoward for another half an hour. Then, as they approached the crossroads, Thiert had the globe hover in the centre of the crossing passageways. It paused and the glow changed to green. Thiert whispered something to it and the glow became white with a green flashing centre.

  “A poison gas trap,” Thiert smiled.

  Loric tensed at the satisfaction in the thief’s voice. He’s happy to find a trap; Why?

  Thiert retrieved the Trap Hunter, holding it lightly as he considered the problem.

  “How do we disarm it?” Loric asked, but it was Silvertree who answered.

  “Put these across your nose and mouth,” he said, tossing a red coloured mask to each of the party.

  Loric slipped the band around the back of his head and fastened the laces at the nape of his neck. “What now?” he asked.

  “Stand back,” Silvertree said. He waited until they retreated a good six feet up the corridor, then began to speak in High Elvish.

  “Air Golems,” Kalytia said with approval.

  Six misty-grey figures appeared around the elf. Silvertree moved away and rejoined the party as the Golems began to advance into the centre of the cross. One of the Golems stepped forward and there was a click. A canister rose from the floor and spun, releasing a fine mist of green glowing gas that shrouded the Golems. The creatures stood there for a long moment, and then one by one they began to fall. It took four golems’ deaths before the canister stopped spinning, and the other two died before the canister sucked the remaining gas back into it and dropped into the floor, spent.

  Carefully Thiert advanced, and sent the orange glowing Trap Hunter into the crossroads again. It indicated no trap in the centre, but when the thief directed it up the other tunnels, the Trap Hunter told them there were more spike traps. Thiert determined where they were and disarmed each one quickly.

  “Now which way?” Grimhelm asked Loric.

  “The alarmed door I found was straight ahead by about twenty feet.”

  “Won’t they be expecting any intrusion to come through there?” Kalytia sounded nervous.

  “Aye, Lady Cleric, they would,” Grimhelm answered. “’Tis the normal defensive layout for herding intruders.”

  “They might be expecting us to take one of the side passages instead,” Loric said. “After all it would make more sense to avoid a known trap.”

  “I can disable an alarm in my sleep,” Thiert scoffed.

  “I meant the defensive layout, Thiert. Not the alarm on the door.”

  “Besides, they’ll have alarms on all the doors,” Grimhelm told the thief.

  “This is getting us nowhere.” Silvertree sighed. “Leave it to chance.”

  “How do we pick, ye high nosed…?” Grimhelm tailed off as Loric gave him an angry look.

  “Lady, if you would pick for us?” Loric made a half bow.

  Kalytia rolled her eyes and squeezed them shut, muttering in Elvish as she gestured at each passage in turn. She finished up on the centre passage.

  “Happy now?” Thiert asked and picked his way around the bodies of the golems.

  Silvertree paused and with a flick of a hand, retrieved the mana he’d used to make the golems. The shaped air dissolved soundlessly.

  They encountered no more traps along the corridor.

  This doesn’t feel right. Why aren’t there more traps or any creatures? Loric found himself drawing his sabre. Maybe they want us to relax our guard? Or there’s a stronger trap on the door?

  By the time they reached the door, even Thiert was muttering to himself. The Trap Hunter hovered before the end door, a red bell in its centre.

  “They re-armed the trap you disturbed then.” Thiert neutralized it quickly before he unlocked the door and opened it a crack.

  Silvertree sent a tiny, bird-shaped Air Golem through the door.

  “No traps there that I can see through the Golem’s eyes,” he said, as the Air Golem returned to him. He retrieved the mana again.

  Loric blinked in confusion.

  “Air Golems can see aethyric disturbance fields.” Silvertree explained.

  “Stop talking in gibberish, Mage. I hae no inklin’ o’what ye’re going on about!” Grimhelm said.

  “Sir Grimhelm, calm yourself,” Kalytia smiled. “Lord Silvertree merely said that his Golems can see the field that activates the trap.”

  “Why did he nae say that then?” the Dwarf grumbled.

  Kalytia bit her lip.

  Loric coughed. I can’t laugh at him. He’s wound up tight enough as it is.

  Thiert grinned at Loric and the prince almost lost his control over his mirth.

  They slipped through and waited, but nothing happened. A new corridor stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction. Thiert’s Trap Hunter couldn’t detect any traps within six feet of them either way.

  “Good place for a break,” Loric said brightly, earning himself a glower from Grimhelm. “What is it, Grim? We need to take a break.”

  “Ye need to toughen up, Lad,” Grimhelm shook his head. “T’is only been two hours since we entered this place.”

  “I agree with you, your Highness,” Kalytia said quickly, “I could do with a rest and a drink.”

  “So could I. I need to replenish my mana,” Silvertree added.

  That seemed to settle things. Silvertree set up two mage globes on either side of the door and an Air Golem to guard the other side. Thiert sat still long e
nough to swallow some water and eat some bread.

  “Where are you going?” Loric asked as the thief stood up.

  “I’m going to scout the corridor. Don’t worry. If I find anything I’ll come straight back.”

  “I dinnae trust that man,” Grimhelm growled as Thiert activated his Trap Hunter and set off up the passage.

  “Trust is not the issue, Grimhelm,” Silvertree said leaning up against the wall, his eyes closed. “Besides, he’s honest.”

  “Honest!” the dwarf snorted.

  “He has given his promise to help and Thiert does not go back on his promises.” Silvertree sounded exhausted.

  “Are you all right, Lord Silvertree?” Kalytia asked.

  “I’m just drained, Lady Cleric. I’ve used about a quarter of my mana today already.”

  “Please allow me to wash the tiredness away. I cannot replace the mana, but I can help you feel less worn out.”

  The elven mage nodded, and Kalytia brought out a small golden statuette of Espilieth, the Elven goddess of Magic and Healing. She knelt beside Silvertree and began to pray, whispering in Elvish.

  Loric watched, fascinated. A white glow surrounded her and expanded to surround Silvertree. The mage opened his eyes and looked at the cleric, awe painting his face as if he could hear something Loric could not.

  Kalytia kept praying and suddenly the white glow encased Loric and Grimhelm as well. Loric felt the tiredness lift from his muscles, and the swelling on his right knee, a slight injury caused on the way out of the dungeon yesterday, disappeared. He flexed his leg and smiled.

  Kalytia finished and the glow drained away.

  “Thank ye, Reverend Lady,” Grimhelm said softly.

  Loric nodded in agreement. “As soon as Thiert comes back from…”

  The little thief hurtled into the midst of them.

  “Quick, we need to get back through the door,” he said, opening the door and sliding through. “Skeletons!”

  Without really thinking, Loric followed, then Kalytia and Silvertree. Grimhelm came last and had only just shut the door when the horde of skeletons rushed past.

  They stood there listening as the skeletons searched the corridor.

  Go away. Loric waited impatiently, the sklattering noise the bare bones made on the paved flooring set his teeth on edge.

  Once all of the undead creatures had clattered back the way they came, Silvertree fashioned his tiny bird-like Air Golem again, which he sent back through the door.

  “They’re gone, but I will check to both ends of the passage,” the elven mage said after a few moments of looking through the golem’s eyes. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

  Thiert stood with his ear pressed to the door. Loric moved over to him and cleared his throat softly.

  Thiert jumped.

  “What happened?” Loric whispered, trying not to disturb Silvertree.

  “I went up the corridor and round the corner. No traps anywhere, all the way up. I found another door.”

  “Alarmed?”

  “We are in a dungeon, your Highness.”

  Loric frowned at the sarcasm and Thiert shrugged.

  “Sorry.”

  “Just tell me what happened. Without any embellishment.”

  “I neutralised the alarm and went through the door.”

  “What happened to, ‘Don’t worry, if I find anything I’ll come straight back’?”

  “I just wanted to check. Unfortunately, there was a guard post on the other side of the door, staffed with skeletons.” Thiert shrugged. “I came straight back, though.”

  “And they chased you. Thanks, Thiert, we were trying to get in without too much hassle.”

  Silvertree opened his eyes.

  “The Skeletons are back on their guard post. There's a locked and trapped door just beyond them. I saw something interesting at the south end of the corridor though, very interesting indeed.”

  “And what would that be?” Grimhelm growled.

  “Dirt. Soft dirt.”

  Grimhelm’s eyes widened. “A new tunnel?”

  “Well, that just confirms it,” Thiert muttered. “This dungeon is definitely inhabited.”

  * * *

  High in the Black Tower, lounging on his throne, Aracan Katuvana watched the Adventurers through a large crystal ball. On a stand beside the throne the Jar glowed as it channelled energy into the crystal, powering the Occularo spell held within.

  “It would appear they have discovered the presence of the new tunnel, Lord. Do you want your minions to move in on them when they reach the torture chamber, or the treasury?”

  The Aracan pointed to a gold coin the dwarf tossed into the air as he walked.

  “The treasury then, Lord. Who did you want to use to carry out the final battle, Lord?” the Jar asked.

  Picking up a book from the table beside the throne, the Aracan flicked quickly through the pages and found the appropriate section.

  “Ah, the Pleasemore Dungeon Profile. Excellent, Lord.”

  He ran his right index finger down the list of creatures, stopped and tapped four times on one entry. Then he continued for a few lines, stopped and tapped nine times on another entry.

  He kept on like this for several moments. The Jar watched and counted, its eye fixed beadily on the page, and once Aracan Katuvana reached the end of the list and closed the book, the Jar summarised.

  “Four units of Dark Mistresses, nine units of Dragon Spawn, three Poison Demons, three patrols of Skeletons and Pleasemore’s Devil Demon.” The Jar paused for a long moment, before it asked “How many Gremlins?”

  The Aracan shrugged.

  “As many as it takes then, Lord. Superb choices all, may I say. Oh look! The prince and his friends have reached the entrance to the new tunnel.”

  Aracan Katuvana turned back to the crystal and the Jar fell silent, once more channelling energy into the ball.

  * * *

  “Ye were right, Silvertree. This is a fresh tunnel,” Grimhelm said sifting earth through his stubby fingers.

  “I don’t like this. It feels like an ambush,” Thiert muttered.

  “What about that locked door your bird golem found behind the skeletons?” Loric suggested.

  “You wanted to get in without any hassle, Loric,” Thiert said. “We’d have to fight the skeletons to get to it.”

  “We’ve had quite enough fun with skeletons today,” Silvertree said firmly.

  The thief shrugged. “No argument from this quarter.”

  “Aye lad. Let their weakness become our strength.” Grimhelm stood up, dusting the dirt from his hands. “Surely there’ll only be a small show of strength up here to protect t’workers. They will nae be expecting us to enter here when we are so few.”

  Loric frowned and rubbed his temple. My head is pounding and something just feels wrong about this. Is Grim right? “What about the door in the small corridor off to the west?” he said.

  “Are ye determined to nae follow ye’re advisers?” Grimhelm growled at him.

  Kalytia placed her hands on his head and whispered something. The headache faded and he smiled at her gratefully, kissing her palms in the traditional thanks.

  “I want to check that other door first,” he said.

  Grumbling, the dwarf led the way to the western door. Silvertree knelt beside it and fashioned a snake golem from the handful of earth he had brought with him. They moved back from the door so they didn’t trigger the alarm and the mage sent the snake in under the door. Then he closed his eyes and vocalised what he saw.

  “Short corridor ending in a small east-west corridor. I’m going east first. Hmm, chickens. This must be a feeding ground, but… it’s so small, barely five paces across. Another passage leading north. Short, into a tiny treasure room.”

  Loric interrupted him. “Treasure room?”

  “Well, it must be, there are gold coins and gems scattered all over the floor. Corridor leading west. Slightly longer than the last one. Ah, this room is clearly a b
edroom. There’s a throne-like chair and a bed. Passage going south now. Hang on. There's an open door to my right. A strange red glow coming out of it.”

  “What is it?” Kalytia asked.

  “I recognise that symbol. It’s a Dark Temple, Lady Cleric. A place of blood sacrifice.” Kalytia gagged and went pale. Silvertree continued, “The last room appears to be either a training…” Suddenly Silvertree opened his eyes and swallowed hard, blinking. His hands rose to cradle his head and he gasped for breath.

  “What happened?” Loric asked.

  “The golem was stamped on?” Thiert hazarded a guess.

  Silvertree nodded, unable to speak. Kalytia laid her hands on the elven mage’s head and when she finished Silvertree was able finish his sentence.

  “The last room is a training room and it was in use…by a Devil Demon.”

  They retreated up the southern corridor to the new tunnel.

  “So, this is our only option.” Loric sounded resigned, and drew his sabre.

  Grimhelm sighed and pulled his war hammer from its sling on his back.

  Silvertree spoke a few words in Elvish as he uncovered the end of his staff. The crystal blazed with pure white light, making the mage globes look dull in comparison.

  Kalytia pulled a wicked looking, slim-bladed short sword from underneath her tabard and as she unsheathed the blade, a golden flame ran the length of the razor-edged blade.

  “I hate walking into an ambush,” Thiert muttered drawing two long-bladed knives that gleamed blue in the mage light.

  “Look at it this way Thiert. There are unlikely to be any traps or locked doors,” Loric replied.

  Cautiously they started up the tunnel, their feet making virtually no noise in the soft dirt of the floor. Loric frowned as they came upon a stone wall.

  “What’s the matter, Lad?” Grimhelm asked.

  “This is a fresh tunnel, why is there a stone wall here?”

  “I would say because it’s the wall of another room,” Silvertree said from behind him.

  “Could we break through it?”

  The dwarf examined it carefully then shook his head.

  “Nay. The stone is reinforced with magic mortar and even old Bessie wouldn’t be able bash through.” He patted the head of his hammer consolingly.