"There has to be a way forward." I breathed rapidly, panting, trying to draw enough of the thin air into my lungs to continue. "Maybe on the other side... of the dragon."
With any luck, the highland orcs will kill you before they begin eating you.
Above us, the massive figure of the stone dragon cast its shadow over the mountain slope. We climbed past one of its forelimbs. Its stone claws sank three or four feet down into the solid rock. Ahead, the stone ribbon of its tongue touched down on the rocky slope. A haze of white mist spurted from the dragon's mouth, but when the haze cleared, I noticed something.
"Joskan! Look at the dragon's mouth. It's not solid, it's hollow. I think we can get inside."
Joskan grunted as he heaved himself up. The angle of the slope grew steeper. "So?"
"Maybe we can hide there, lose the orcs in the fog and then double back."
Even as I spoke, though, I realized the flimsiness of the plan. I scanned the dragon and saw patches of stone scales ripped away in spots, and the blackness beyond suggested these holes were windows into some structure within the statue. But what laired there or how large (or safe) it was, there was no way to tell. Better to continue down the slope on the other side and lose ourselves in the twisting mountain trails.
I opened my mouth to say so, when Joskan halted near the stone tip of the dragon's tongue. I scrambled up next to him and stared down in dismay.
The opposite slope of the mountain was nothing but narrow, broken ledges punctuating a series of sheer drops. Far below, a rare patch of scrawny evergreen trees provided a welcome splotch of green. Some of the hardy mountain scrub grew from cracks in the wall, and narrow crevices offered hand- and foot-holds, but it was clear our progress would be painstaking at best. I risked another look over my shoulder.
The orcs were closing the gap between us as if they were part mountain goat. One had drawn a bow, and fixed me with an ugly grin.
My gaze met Joskan's. He shrugged.
"In we go," I said.
Joskan and I scrambled up the dragon's tongue with all haste. The pursuing orcs broke into a trot and drew their weapons, shouting. I took heart—anything that angered the orcs was fine by me. I hoped it meant they didn't know what the dragon's innards held, either.
Its mouth was dark, cool, and misty. The source of the fog was a stone block the size of an altar, covered with strange, symmetrical runes. White smoke periodically issued from a concave opening in its front. With neither the time nor experience to deciper the mysterious contraption's purpose, I left well enough alone.
Joskan and I paused but a moment in the dragon's mouth to catch our breath. I was prepared to make a light, but the occasional missing scale let in dusty yellow daylight, just enough to see by.
Rows of benches lined the walls of the cavernous mouth, and the dragon's teeth, which curved up and down like scimitars, formed a prickly barricade for any who might try to enter. "I think this used to be a guard post," I whispered.
Joskan nodded and ran a hand over one of the benches. Although wooden, it seemed as solid as if it were fashioned yesterday. Dust puffed in a cloud when he lifted his hand. "We can move these to form a barricade. Make a stand here?"
My fluttering heartbeat steadied, finally, and I felt as if my lungs were working properly again. I peered into the back of the cavern. A tunnel stretched on. "Let's go deeper. I'd rather not fight if we don't have to. Five raving orcs against two ordinary—albeit exceptionally brave and handsome—travelers sounds like poor odds."
We hurried through the mouth, and I longed to be able to stop and investigate the carvings on the wall—scenes of battles, mostly, in which I recognized the dragon statue in several backgrounds—and a strange circular motif in the architecture that kept repeating. It might have been a calendar or record of events. With the orcs coming up fast behind us, though, I had only time for a longing look as we raced past.
From the mouth, a tunnel threaded through the dragon's curving neck. The floor was solid, but I noticed patches of scales chipped away above and thin cracks in the walls. How old this statue was I couldn't guess, but whatever enchantment held it together seemed to now be weakening.
A two-foot-tall opening ran the entire length of the tunnel. I had a breathtaking, panoramic view of the surrounding area as we raced past, and again I noticed elaborate carvings above and below it. These ones made me stop and risk a few precious seconds to look closer.
What possible function could these strange eggs fulfill?
"Joskan, look at this!" I whispered. "The carvings—they match the scenery outside. See? This slope continues here," I traced where the landscape became the drawing. "And look, this waterfall must flow into a lake, you can see it on this—this map, I guess. Wait, the drawing shows a mountain here, but there's none outside. How old do you think this place is?"
"How old do you think we'll get to be if those orcs catch us?" Joskan snarled.
I tore myself away from the bizarre and beautiful panorama and followed Joskan, but couldn't resist sticking my hand through the window.
I heard the rustle of armor, the growls of the orcs, and the clash of their weapons beating together, distant but fast approaching, as we neared the end of the tunnel. A larger room opened up before us, probably the first of many chambers hidden in the dragon's abdomen. Years of experience led me to slow down and tug on Joskan's sleeve.
"Easy, now. No sense jumping out of the kettle and into the fire."
Joskan grunted but stopped. I stepped ahead of him and moved quickly and quietly to the next room.
The sight overwhelmed me. The large chamber held eggs—eggs of all shapes and sizes, from robin to roc, but each one fashioned from some precious material. Gold glittered in the dim sun. Sapphire flashed as deeply blue as the sky outside. Marble gleamed white as bone, and obsidian glistened like the oily sap of the Belkzen brambles. For a moment, I forgot about the orcs chasing after us and stared in wonder at the collection.
Some eggs stood on pedestals, others in niches in the walls. Light that came from nowhere illuminated each, and I caught a glimpse of etchings on several of the larger ones. I couldn't look too closely, though, because something stirred deeper in the room.
Along one wall, a large patch of stone scales had broken away and left a jagged hole like a giant picture-window. On the floor next to the hole, two bizarre creatures slept.
I saw the nearest one most clearly. Its hind legs, those of an oversized mountain goat, kicked restlessly as it slept. Long, golden hair covered its hindquarters but gave way to sandy scales and a ridged spine further up its back. Its front legs ended in huge paws, from which I saw the tips of retracted black claws, each one probably as long as my dagger.
Two leathery wings wrapped around the creature's midsection, and I realized with a sinking feeling why there were no birds in this area. It would take a lot to feed a creature with three heads, I'd imagine.
The head nearest to me was that of a mountain goat, one with spear-like horns and unnaturally sharp teeth.
The middle head was a mountain cat like the one Joskan and I had passed earlier, but three times as large.
The last head looked like a miniature replica of the dragon's head through which we'd entered this strange place. Chimeras. I'd read of such creatures before,
and from what I knew, they were as ill-tempered as they were ugly.
I backed up as quietly as I could and found Joskan waiting, muscles tense and axe in hand. The clatter of our pursuers grew louder, and I wasn't sure if the orcs would catch us before the chimeras awoke and devoured us.
"Well?" Joskan asked.
"Definitely the fire," I replied. "Don't worry. I've got a plan."
The hardest part was waiting until the orcs caught up to us. It took only a minute for the orcs to come around the curve, spot us, and charge, but it seemed much longer. Even though I expected i
t—anticipated it—the sight of the five orcs in their makeshift armor, spittle flying from their mouths as they gnashed their teeth, cast serious doubts on my scheme.
With three heads, you'd think at least one would be friendly.
I had no time for insecurities, though; the chimeras were waking up. I grabbed Joskan's arm and we bolted into the egg chamber.
My heart sank at the sight of the lovely sculptures as we dashed through the room; how I wished I had time to come back and study them all! The chimeras pulled themselves out of sleep, and the one nearest to me lifted its goat head and blinked while its cat head yawned hugely. Heart in my throat, I leaped over the dragon head and pulled Joskan between the two sleeping beasts. My foot caught on the chimera's horn and I almost fell, turning my stumble into a sharp kick in the monster's flank. The beasts came fully awake and sprang up with roars and bleats.
The growls of the pursuing orcs turned to screams of rage as they realized the trap. Without pausing, Joskan and I pushed past the chimeras and flung ourselves out the jagged hole.
A sheer cliff dropped hundreds of feet. Joskan and I fell through the air; vertigo assaulted me as I struggled to complete the phrase on my lips. Joskan shrieked something, but the wind caught his words and tore them away. I reached out, my hand scraping the cliff face as we fell, and gasped the last syllable.
Instantly our fall was arrested. Instead of plummeting to our deaths, Joskan and I floated down at a steady, peaceful rate, light as feathers.
"How's that for a plan?" I grinned at Joskan, and he grunted back. From above us, the sounds of orcs howling and chimeras roaring drifted down the cliff.
"That should keep them busy for a while." I let us sink magically as long as I dared, then reached out and grabbed at the cliff until I found solid hand and footholds. Joskan stretched out a hand and grasped the edge of my cloak, and I reeled him in like a fish on a line. Together we inched our way down and west until we reached a ledge capable of taking the two of us abreast. In that one leap, we'd circumvented at least a solid day's worth of hard climbing.
I checked the wayfinder—still pointing due east, as always.
"Joskan," I said with a sigh as we picked our way down the slope, "we make a pretty good team."
He gave a brusque nod, which I interpreted as his version of a smile. "Dangerous. And foolish. We should be more careful from now on."
"If there's one thing I've learned," I said, "it's that trouble finds the prepared and unprepared alike. No matter how careful you are, something new is always coming." I inhaled as deeply as I could in the thin mountain air. "You can smell it on the wind." Joskan only grunted.
Side by side, we continued down into the darkening forest.
Appendix: Flora and Fauna of Belkzen
Numerous plants and animals thrive in Belkzen. Although not unique to the area, they are indigenous.
Aurochs: The primary source of meat, wool, and leather in Belkzen, the great herds of Belkzen aurochs are of a breed distinct from their counterparts on the Storval Plateau, having thick, yak-like fur designed to keep them warm as they migrate back and forth from the Realm of the Mammoth Lords to Belkzen's southern tip, often following the Flood Road.
Belkzen Brambles: These twisted, thorny branches appear dead at first glance, but a closer inspection (DC 10 Spot or Search check) or prior knowledge (DC 12 Knowledge [nature] check) reveals supple wood and living sap. The sharp, tricorn thorns can be used as caltrops if harvested carefully (DC 15 Survival check), although the thorns are destroyed after use.
Belkzen Puma: These tawny mountain lions move with exceptional stealth and hunt the other native creatures of Belkzen. Smaller than regular mountain lions (use leopard statistics), Belkzen pumas rarely attack adventurers unless a pack comes upon a lone traveler.
Firemoss: This rust-red moss catches fire slowly and burns steadily. A fist-sized clump of firemoss burns for an hour, making it a favored substance for crafting torches.
Mountain Goat: The brown mountain goats of Belkzen possess razor-sharp horns and phenomenal dexterity, and are prized for their milk and flesh. Use statistics for a donkey but add a gore attack (+1 melee, 1d4 damage) and increase Dexterity to 16.
Pickpocket Shrew: These rodent-like creatures measure 6–10 inches in length and make their homes in burrows. Their name comes from the shrews' uncanny silence and penchant for gnawing their way into stores of food while travelers sleep (use statistics for a cat).
The Storm Breaks
By Richard Pett
03 Lamashan, 4707 ar
There comes a point in any climb where mountain and man become one, where the landscape finally dominates your senses and there is only you and it, nothing more.
Our miserable trek across the lesser peaks in the Mindspin Mountains tested my faith in the wayfinder once more, but despite each gully, scree slope, and cliff we had to cross on its whim, I continued to follow its unwavering needle.
We had been climbing all day, and even though we had started at dawn, I hesitated to think we'd make the ridge by nightfall. The pathway (if such a perilous ledge deserves the name) seemed to be without end, and I wondered if I would come across the gods themselves at the summit. At last, the wind picked up and I could hear the roar of it crossing the ridge above. With renewed energy, I jogged the last few steps onto the crest. From my vantage point, I could see a huge bowl of land below, a massive cauldron of dust and stone cowering under a sky thick with the threat of storms. Yet it was not the landscape that held my view.
It was the armies.
A black stain filled the valley, stretching from side to side. Row upon row of dark figures huddled in tight clusters around high banners, too distant for me to make out their emblems. Yet there were other rallying points as well—the lines of severed heads held aloft on spears, or a man-shaped tower of metal cages filled with impaled figures and gibbeted prisoners screaming for mercy while crows swooped and pecked at them. Huge ogres clad in rusted steel wheeled the iron man on the edges of the battlefield, for battlefield it was, or would be when these sickened ants set about each other.
Joskan trudged up toward me. "Resting already?" he asked. Then his eyes fell on the sight ahead and his jaw dropped visibly. "Great. Just great," he said.
"Looks like there's trouble ahead for us," I said, surreptitiously checking the wayfinder, which pointed straight through the valley, with its brooding clouds and teeming hordes. I could see that any deviation would take us onto jagged drops and peaks around this bowl.
"You mean to go straight, don't you?"
I nodded.
"And let me guess—nothing I could tell you about the journey ahead will stop you."
"Correct."
"You do realize that going ahead is certain death?"
"We've been through worse."
"Believe me, we haven't."
I shrugged. "Maybe, but straight is the way we go."
"You've spent too much time amongst the orcs," he growled. "Do you even know what ‘trouble' means?"
"I think so."
"I'll ask you that question again, later." He hooked his thumbs in his pack straps and gazed across the valley. "I can see several tribal banners. And there's a stench like war rhino, unless I'm mistaken." He tossed his head back and gulped at the air.
"War rhino?" Cries of beasts and orcs echoed up to our lofty perch.
"Let's just hope you only get to imagine what they look like." He set down his pack, drew out an empty ration sack, and cut two holes in it.
"So, you're the guide—can we do it?"
He sniffed again and stared at me earnestly. "If we can cross before the battle starts—maybe. But there are two problems."
"Which are?"
"Well, first things first—they'll scent your stink a mile away. Rub this on yourself." He tossed me a small, hard
toadstool which, when I did as I was asked, made me reek like the grave.
"I'll not ask what you use this for. And second?"
"Put this on." He threw the sack at me, the rough burlap now complete with two tiny eye-holes.
The sack was tight, and there was a strong smell of oilskins and onions that made my eyes run. The two holes barely allowed me to see anything, and I became instantly afraid of suffocating.
"Good enough, though you'll want to rub soil into your skin and gear to darken it as much as possible. And for the love of the gods, don't say anything—nobody down there will be speaking your tongue, and besides, your reedy voice sounds like a woman's." He had a point about my voice, so I refrained from mentioning that I was actually fluent in Orc, and instead set to work rolling in the dirt, grinding the dark dust into my pores. Finally I stood up, disheveled and reeking.
Joskan looked me up and down. "Good enough," he said. "It'll have to do."
Was that a smile?
We watched the forces below as we ate our meager meal, cutting thin slivers of meat from our rations and savoring each sip of water.
"How soon will the battle start, do you think?" I asked.
"This is no battle," he said. "This is merely a squabble."
I looked at the orcs, hundreds of them, and wondered what sort of disagreement had brought this situation about.
"Very well then, how long before this ‘squabble' becomes nasty?"
He sniffed at the air. "I can smell meat roasting," he said, inhaling greedily. "They're preparing the Last Feast—what some orcs call the Gorging. They will not fight until sundown tomorrow."
"And who is fighting who, exactly?"
"That won't be easy to tell until we get down there and I talk, although I have a nasty feeling that this is a kresk."
"A kresk?"
"A general free-for-all, winner takes all."
The Compass Stone: The Collected Journals of Eando Kline Page 12