by Kira Morgana
They moved on. In the dirt they saw the marks of tiny feet and the occasional hoof or paw print, but no live creatures appeared.
“I really don’t like this,” Thiert said as they came upon a freshly dug side tunnel. He slid into it, motioning for the rest of them to stay where they were.
He came back shortly after, his face so white that Loric could see his veins.
“Empty. Let’s move on quickly.”
“Now ye wait just one minute, ye…” Grimhelm started.
“Hold on Grimhelm. What was in there? Could we go through?” Loric interrupted.
“It’s not the sort of place that you take a Lady, especially a Lady of Espilieth.”
Kalytia frowned. “I appreciate the thought, Thiert, but I’m not that delicate.”
“So you want to walk into a torture chamber? Fine, if that’s what you want,” the thief replied and turned to go back in.
“No! It’s all right.” Kalytia turned pale and Silvertree started to move, but she waved him off. “I’m a grown woman, but the thought of all that death and pain makes me feel ill.”
“And you carry a sword? What were you planning on doing with it, bless the creatures that attack us?” Thiert sounded rather annoyed.
“It is one of the few Holy Blades of Espilieth.” Kalytia turned away from the thief and said to Loric: “Let’s move on. I’m sure if we’re quiet enough, we’ll be able to get past without alerting anyone who might be in that room.”
* * *
In the Tower, Aracan Katuvana left his throne and moved to the window. The ancient Goblin once more walked behind him, carrying the Jar. Waving his hand across the window again, the Aracan produced the top down view of the Pleasemore dungeon.
“If you recollect, my Lord, the adventurers are shown as a white line,” the Jar said.
The Aracan nodded and touched a small symbol at the bottom of the picture. The map disappeared to show the party in a small circle. Jar and Lord watched as behind the party Gremlins silently faced the walls with granite slabs and laid down flooring. They added a strong door to the torture chamber and put traps around the entrance.
“They have almost reached the Main Treasury, Lord. This should be very interesting.” The Jar cackled with delight. “I suggest you activate your agent.”
Aracan Katuvana nodded and made a complicated gesture over the thief who stood guard at the back of the group, peering around the corner. Despite the lack of sound, the shock of the spell activation manifested in the way the thief clutched at his hand and then his skull. He dropped to the floor and managed to crawl around the corner before collapsing.
A deep booming laugh echoed around the tower as the Aracan waved his hand over the scene, returning it to its top down view.
“Most entertaining,” the Jar remarked.
* * *
Silvertree sent another earth snake into the room ahead.
“It’s a Treasury—piles of gold and precious gems everywhere. Gilded armour and weaponry, in essence a great deal of loot from previous adventurers.”
“Any creatures?” Loric asked.
“None. It’s safe enough to go into.” The snake returned to the mage who dispelled it and absorbed the mana it released.
“This really does feel like a trap. Thiert...” Loric said as he twisted round. He blinked, the thief had disappeared.
Leaving the others at the roughed out entrance, Loric backtracked almost as far as the Torture Chamber.
The Prince found Thiert sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He’d pulled his hood up over his Mohican and ran his left hand over his right one repeatedly. Either side of him his knives were laid flat and the marks in the fresh dirt suggested the little man had fallen here.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, just… had a bit of a funny turn. It happens every so often. What have you found?”
“A Treasury. There are no creatures in it.”
“Have you seen any creatures other than the Skeletons that chased me?”
“No, but what about the Devil Demon Silvertree saw behind that locked door?”
“We only have his word for it and besides he might have seen a statue. Look, Loric. I’m telling you there are no creatures in this dungeon. We should just walk in, get whatever you came to get and walk out again.”
“What about all the traps we’ve encountered?”
“They could have been timed ones. Set in motion by your exploration yesterday.”
“What about the Skeletons?”
“They’re Undead. They might just be remnants of what was here before. Remember it’s been hundreds of years since these ruins were standing properly, let alone lived in.”
Loric was unconvinced. “The fresh tunnel?”
“The Skeletons could have dug it as a route from their guard post to the south tunnel.” Thiert changed the subject. “What was it you wanted to get anyway?”
“Well, the Legends say that the centre of the Dungeon has a large magic crystal in it.” Loric sighed. “My father suggested obliquely that it would be the only thing he would accept as proof of my bravery and loyalty.” He looked at Thiert more carefully. Something is wrong. He doesn’t feel like the same person to me.
He had stopped rubbing his hand and Loric caught a glimpse of the tattoo on the back of it. His tattoo looks darker for some reason. Maybe it’s the light in here.
The thief saw the direction of his gaze. Collecting his knives as he rose, Thiert stood up. “Let’s get back to the others. The sooner you get the crystal, the sooner we get out of here.”
Loric nodded and followed him back to where the others were standing, passing around and sipping from one of the water skins. As he and Thiert returned, Kalytia held the skin out to him, a soft smile on her face. He took it gratefully, using the water as an excuse not to speak.
“Where were you?” Silvertree asked “We turned round and you two had disappeared.”
“I was dizzy. Loric came to help me,” Thiert replied.
“Well now ye’re back, we can get on with this,” Grimhelm grumbled. “There are no creatures in the treasure room, so we might as well go on in.”
They slipped into the room; their weapons held at the ready and paused by the tunnel entrance. After half an hour of waiting, Thiert was the first to sheathe his knives and pull out his treasure bag. “Might as well help myself to some of this—it’s just lying around all lonely with no one to spend it.”
“The thief has a point.” Grimhelm smiled for the first time, opening his tiny money bag and picking up gems from a nearby pile, examining them and putting them in it.
“Gold is too heavy,” Loric said. “I came for the crystal.”
“Take some gems, Loric. They weigh very little and are worth more than gold,” Thiert said.
“I will not profit from the evil that created this horrible place,” Kalytia declared, moving to stand beside the northern door leading away from the tunnel.
Silvertree shrugged. “Gems can be cleansed of evil and are more useful as enchantment foci than as money.” He, too, retrieved a bag from a pocket in his cloak and began to select the best of them, picking through the pile carefully.
Loric wandered across the room, skirting a large pile of massive gems in the centre, to stand beside the south door. The books Silvertree sent me were too vague about the Dark Domains. Why on earth are they here? Was it really the Aracan Katuvana or did some other evil lord create this place or was it something else?
“I can hear you thinking all the way over here, your highness,” Kalytia said with a tight smile. “What is it that has you concentrating so hard on nothing?”
She's a Cleric of Espilieth. Surely Kalytia would have the answers that weren't in my books. Loric smiled back. “I was just considering the history of this place. Do you know anything about this Aracan Katuvana that was supposed to have existed?”
The cleric's smile disappeared and she looked sad. “A poor subject to discuss. Espec
ially when we are surrounded by his miasma.”
“I don't understand. The books I read all hinted about the legend of The Aracan Katuvana, none of them seemed to be at all certain of the facts,” Loric shrugged. “I'm beginning to think the books made the whole thing up. I mean, it could just be the creatures who live here who have collected this treasure and made people disappear.”
“He was real. The elves still sing of the horrors inflicted upon the Heart Kingdoms during his terrible reign.” Kalytia sighed.
“You trained in Alethdariel, didn't you? And the elves remember more about the Black Tower War than any of the other races of Quargard.” Loric darted across to Kalytia. “Please, tell me about it. Why did the Aracan Katuvana build this place? What was his motivation for attacking the kingdoms and why would my father be so insistent that I find this crystal for him?”
Silvertree looked up from his appraisal of a large amethyst. “You were never that interested in the politics of the War when I was your tutor, Loric.”
“Ye're nay as pretty as the Lady Cleric, mage,” Grimhelm chuckled.
Kalytia frowned at the dwarf and turned back to Loric. “This is no pleasant tale, Highness. I feel faint just thinking about it.”
“You can't be that fragile, Lady Cleric,” Thiert interrupted. “Not if you accompany the dwarf to inns and taverns on your journeys.”
“Hush, Thiert. The lady is a delicate bloom indeed, but I know something of the rites the priesthood go through and to have survived this far…” Silvertree ducked as Kalytia snatched up a small bag of coin and threw it at him. “Sweet Lady!”
Grimhelm laughed at the mage's expression and even Thiert smirked.
Loric took the cleric's hands. “Please, Kalytia? I just want to know why you feel this ruin is so evil; so I may counsel my father, the King, on its fate.”
She sighed. “Very well.”
Loric sat down on a large chest.
“This disgusting place must be one of the dark domains that were built to impose the will of the Aracan Katuvana on the Heart Kingdoms,” Kalytia said. “There were at least three in each of the kingdoms; possibly more, and it fell to Ser Senith, a Paladin of the Mother, to cleanse the world of the Aracan Katuvana's evil.”
“But why did he do it?” Loric frowned. “Why would one man create such places?”
“Why does anyone attack another? Power, money, or thrills are the usual culprits,” Silvertree answered the prince. “There is a story that the Aracan Katuvana had once been High Councillor of Jinran and that he grew weary with the riches of that land and wished to impose his will upon all the kingdoms.”
“The true motivations of the Aracan Katuvana are obscured by time, Highness. However, there is one fact which has never wavered in either the minds of the Elves or the Priesthoods.” Kalytia looked around nervously. “The evil tainting this place reeks of it and thus confirms all I have been taught; the influence of the Dark Ones is very real and the Aracan Katuvana was sworn to their service.”
Loric grimaced. “I was hoping there wouldn't be anything supernatural in this tale.”
“It is no tale, Highness, but truth. In as much as my Lady Espilieth is of the Deities of Light and I her sworn cleric, the Aracan Katuvana was the sworn vessel of the Deities of Shadow and carried out their will.” Kalytia fell silent.
Loric returned to his post by the southern door, thinking hard. There must be some kind of spell on this crystal that my father wants. Perhaps it has the power of the Aracan Katuvana in it and he thinks it might help him in his fight with the Valdierian.
* * *
Time stretched out around them. The wealth of the dungeon glittered in the mage globe’s artificial light and soon Loric had relaxed his guard. He idly watched Silvertree examining an emerald the size of his fist with an eyeglass. Grimhelm had found four matching rubies and was sifting through another pile to find a fifth one, as a wedding present for his sister, he claimed.
Kalytia was the only person who had not relaxed. She was getting more and more anxious as the evil that permeated the stones of the dungeon affected her.
“Please can we get this crystal and get out of here!” she pleaded for the tenth time.
“Just a bit longer,” Grimhelm muttered.
“Relax, Lady Cleric. There is nothing to worry about, this place is deserted,” Thiert said, grinning at her.
It didn’t help.
Loric frowned. Earlier the thief had been advocating a quick get-away, now he seemed content to plunder the dungeon. What’s going on? It’s like the treasure trove in here has them hypnotised. He watched Thiert select his route through the room, over to the biggest pile of gems.
At the very top of the pile was a massive Fire Opal, twice the size of the large emerald Silvertree had in his hands.
“My Gods!” the thief exclaimed. “I have to have that one.”
“Be careful!” Loric barked as Thiert reached up, balancing precariously on one foot.
Grimhelm and Silvertree looked round as the rascal got the gem, then tumbled onto the pile of treasure underneath it. He lay there, sliding the gem into his pouch and grinned weakly when he saw them all looking down at him. As he turned over and sat up, the gems behind him slid down and Kalytia saw the top of an alarm trap under him.
“Thiert! Stay still, you’ve sat on a trap!” she called.
The thief froze. His hood slid back off his head, exposing the tattoo Loric had seen earlier in the Inn and Silvertree gasped.
“A spell tattoo!” The elf moved closer to examine it.
That ink is definitely darker than it was earlier. Loric frowned. “What’s a spell tattoo?”
“I sent you books about Aracan Katuvana when you started researching this quest. Didn’t you read them?” Silvertree frowned at his pupil.
“Well, sort of.” Loric looked down, squirming slightly. “The ones I read had more stories in them than anything else.”
“You always were an indifferent student Loric, preferring fantasy to history,” Silvertree sighed. “Your brother paid far more attention to what I was teaching than you did.”
“Explain it, Mage; don’t have a go at the lad,” Grimhelm said slipping a fifth ruby into his pouch and tying it back on his belt.
“When the Aracan Katuvana was in power, those humans who accepted his rule or sold him their soul were tattooed with a thorny branch that extended up their right arm, up their neck, across their forehead and around their left eye.” Silvertree turned to look at the thief, considering. “The only difference between the two types of human servants was that those who had accepted his rule had tiny black roses in-between the thorns. Those fully possessed by him had red roses.”
Loric looked back at Thiert. The tattoo he had glimpsed on the back of the thief’s right hand had been a thorny branch and now that the rogue’s hood was down, he could see the tattoo ran up right side of his neck, across his forehead to curl around his left eye socket, just as Silvertree described. There were no tiny black roses between the thorns. “So you sold your soul to the Aracan Katuvana, did you?”
“You don’t understand. When I was a tiny child, my parents couldn’t afford to keep me so they left me on the doorstep of the nearest Guild they could find. Unfortunately it was the Thieves and Swindlers Guild and though they took me in, the Guild Elders also sold my soul to the Dark Ones to make the Guild rise in status. Two days ago this appeared.” Thiert sounded distraught.
“I knew we couldna trust ye!” Grimhelm snarled drawing his hammer and advancing on the man.
Kalytia went white and took three steps forward, her right hand outstretched as if trying to stop the dwarf from doing anything. Her foot slipped on the gold scattered across the floor and she fell, hitting her head on the floor.
She didn’t move.
Silvertree scrambled across to her and Grimhelm turned to help.
Loric could hear something coming from the door behind him. As the noise got louder, a foul stench filled the air. He turned,
raising his sabre and shouted “There's something…” but he never finished his sentence.
The south door burst open and the fattest demon Loric had ever seen stood there with two more behind it. The creature waddled in and Loric backed up as he realised that the smell was coming from the demon. As it advanced, it farted, each step releasing a cloud of gas that made him gag. Use the gas mask, he told himself, pulling the red mask from his pocket. One handed, he managed to get it over his head while holding his sabre out in front of him. Good. Now what do we do?
Once the demons were in the room, they spread out, not caring what they trod on. Loric didn’t dare take his eyes off them to find out what his companions were doing. He brought his shield round from his back and slipped it onto his arm, praying fervently.
The demons roared and shook their heads, rattling the Flails attached to their long horns. He backed up further, until he bumped into Thiert who was still half lying on the alarm trap.
“Duck, Loric!” Silvertree yelled and the prince dropped to the floor. A green fireball flew through the air where his head had been and hit the centre demon. It lodged in the creature’s stomach for a few minutes and the other two demons crowded round to examine the wound. They appeared puzzled and the injured demon poked at it with one long, dirty fingernail.
The fireball contracted slightly and as Silvertree called out, “Stay down!” it expanded rapidly.
The injured demon was torn into bloody chunks, throwing the other two demons through the air and into the side walls. The audible snap as they hit the walls indicated that their necks had broken. The bodies slid down to lie still on the treasure.
Loric barely had time to blink before a horde of tiny Gremlins wearing dirty red tabards rushed into the room through the east door, cleared up the bodies and rushed away shouting “Hup, Hup, Hup,” at the top of their voices through the opposite door. The door slammed shut behind them and they heard a key turn in it.
“Why did they lock it?” the Prince asked no one in particular.
Grimhelm strode over to the door in the north wall and tried it. It wouldn’t budge.
“This one is locked too!” he called.