by Logan Petty
Jatharr raised an eyebrow, "What's the matter, lad?"
Sawain let Giltglim droop to the floor, "Jatharr... What if this doesn't work? Everyone's relying on it to work, but Turin has already abandoned me once because of my arrogance. What if he's found more faults in me. I mean, I am a coward."
Jatharr laughed, "You? A coward? Look at you, Sawain! Ye've toppled dozens of the Grey King's priests and strongest allies. Ye've faced a dragon and survived. Not only that, but ye even befriended him. How can ye call yerself a coward?"
Sawain sighed, his eyes cast downward, "I'm scared. Not necessarily of failing. I mean, that's a big part of it. But I'm scared of facing Tharixos. He's been my waking nightmare for so long, and he's caused so much death. What if he wins? What if the Sturmedge isn't enough? What if my doubts are all the excuse Turin needs to not even heed my call?"
Jatharr stood silent a moment, his arms crossed, eyes fixated on Sawain, "Let me ask ye something. What did ye feel when ye stood before the Triumvirate in Alfhaven?"
Sawain furrowed his brow. "Scared. Frustrated."
"Yet ye stood yer ground and convinced those hard-nosed elves to let ye train. And when ye chased after Mari when she ran off? What did ye feel then?"
Sawain's glare softened, "Scared."
Jatharr nodded, "Aye, but ye went after her anyhow."
"But I failed her. She still lost her voice."
Jatharr smiled fondly, "It didn't stop ye from trying, did it?"
Sawain hesitated as he glanced at the World Forge, "No, I guess it didn't."
"So, what's stopping ye from stepping forth and claiming Sturmedge? Certainly not failure or fear. They've never stopped ye before. Remember, Sawain, Cowards act on fear… Heroes act despite fear. Come on, I'll go with ye. Let's get that holy sword of yers and end this war once and fer all."
Sawain took a deep breath and closed his eyes a moment. As he let it out, he opened his eyes and nodded. Determination filled his heart.
"Alright, I'm ready. Let's do this. Keep an eye out for Malsivith's minions. He probably knows we're coming, given the ambush I just stumbled into. They may have more traps inside."
Jatharr nodded and yanked a hatchet from the back of one of the dead Siethtakar, "Good point. Come on, I'll scout ahead. Watch my back."
The two friends moved quickly and silently up to the massive steel doors of the dome. Jatharr pointed down at a broken chain that looked as if it had been cut from the door and cast aside. He motioned for Sawain to be careful as he twisted the handle and pushed. The doors swung open loudly. The grinding of metal alerted a low flying cloud of Vampyr, who dove down on them. They ran inside, Jatharr in front and Sawain just behind. The two pushed the door shut just as the Vampyr slammed against it.
Darkness clouded Sawain's eyes as the light from the outside ceased. A pair of arms as hard as steel wrapped under his armpits and squeezed so hard the air forced itself out of his lungs. He dropped Giltglim in shock as his feet lifted off the ground. Deep laughter, cruel and triumphant slammed into the back of his head. He knew that voice.
Somewhere in the darkness a series of switches clacked against the iron boards that housed them. Light flooded the room, accompanied by a loud crackling hum. As Sawain's eyes adjusted he could see everything clearly.
Coils of silvery metal pipes wound tightly around the base of a strange mechanism in the center of the dome. The device looked like a raised circular dais adorned by a crown of seven stones. These stones were roughly oval in shape, standing about eight feet tall and three feet wide each. They were carved with ancient runes in formulaic circles. A stone bench rested in the center of the ring. Thick cables of more modern make latched to each stone and tethered them to long metal appendages that jutted from the ground around the forge. Sawain knew at first glance that he stood before the Standing Stones of Turin, or would be if his feet had been touching the ground.
He noticed Jatharr next. The old halfling stood before him, facing away with his head hung low. The young hero struggled against Aerabis’ grip as he called out to his friend.
“Jatharr! Do something! Why are you just standing there?”
The halfling did not look at him as he mumbled his answer, “I’m sorry, lad. This is the only way I can set my wife’s soul free…”
Sawain's heart sank as realization set in. Aerabis' voice chuckled in his ear, causing his skin to crawl.
"So nice of you to join us today, Swerdbrekker. I've been looking forward to this for a long time. My employer would like to have a word with you."
Behind him, Sawain heard the doors swing open again. Aerabis performed an about face and spun Sawain around with him. A sickly pale man roughly his height stood in the doorway. His eccentric garb and vivid hair led Sawain to guess that this was the dreaded Malsivith everyone spoke of so fearfully. The man snapped a gloved finger and a huge vampyr wielding a chain stepped into the room beside him. He yanked hard on the chain and Naralei's body skidded to his side.
Sawain's rage ignited as he saw her unconscious form lying still on the floor, a trail of blood smeared behind her. He snarled and roared as he fought against Aerabis' grip. The troll grunted with effort as the furious hero thrashed about, kicking and headbutting anything he could reach as his sinews threatened to snap.
"Oh, now is that any way for a hero to behave," Malsivith's smooth voice crooned as he glided toward the gnashing Sawain. He lunged and grabbed Sawain's jaw as he tried to bite at his captor. The Vampyr King's grip was firm as iron and cold as ice. Sawain immediately stopped his thrashing. The chill that emanated from Malsivith poured into his body, quelling his rage and drawing out his fear. The spell paralyzed him as Aerabis let go. Sawain now dangled a foot off the ground as Malsivith held him by the chin effortlessly with one hand.
The Vampyr Lord's eyes glowed like red embers, their gleam shifting in the light. Malsivith smiled at Sawain.
"That's more like it. Now, rest assured, the girl is still alive. She would not be of much use otherwise, of course. I do hope you like light shows, my dear Swerdbrekker, for you will witness firsthand a spectacle of unparalleled proportions. Oh the little coup you plotted is entertaining, but nothing compared to what I am about to reveal. Make yourself comfortable, for tonight, this silly war will end and your world will die. And when it does, it will not belong to that silly giant, but to Malsivith, Harbinger of Ghosts!"
Chapter Fifteen:
Kyra crawled on her stomach through a narrow ventilation shaft as she followed Firbalg through the branching complex that kept the multitude of mines and chambers of the city inhabitable. She doubted anyone but goblins could traverse the shafts easily without the use of magic. Timbrell scurried behind her, his minute frame proving enough to let him pass. Her own face radiated with the magical runes that allowed her to reduce her own mass enough to slip through. She kept her own gaze averted to avoid seeing what hid beneath Firbalg's robes.
"How much farther? My magic won't last forever, you know."
Firbalg looked back at her and held a finger to his lips, "Keeps it down, missus. We be's gettin' close to the palace's throne room. In there we finds yer friends."
Timbrell whispered to himself, "Oh, just hold on, Mari, we're coming."
Kyra frowned and stuck out her tongue at Firbalg, "You're being just as loud. How do you know they'll be there?"
The old goblin sighed as he shuffled along, "They's prime bartering materials fer Malsivith to uses against Sawain. He has to keeps 'em safe and nowhere's safer than the Throne Room."
She sighed as she followed along, her head turned aside. Gruff laughter floated into the tight tunnel via a shaft to her left. She stopped a moment when she heard the voice speak.
"The boss was wise holding this one back fer us. I always wanted to eat an elf."
Another deep voice giggled manically, "Aye, I hear they taste like tree sap! Well, do ye taste like tree sap? Wassamatter? Too good to talk to a troll?"
Timbrell gasped and pushed past Kyra to get
to the side shaft. She grabbed him by the collar and put a hand to his mouth. He nodded in compliance, but wriggled out of her grasp.
Kyra silently slid as close to the exit as she could without revealing herself. She repressed a gasp of her own as she saw Mari chained to a wall, dripping blood from her chin and surrounded by two of Aerabis' trollkin, a male and a female. The she-troll glared at her compatriot.
"You thick? She can't talk at you 'cause she's a mute. Pretty little elfling can't speak a word of defense."
The male licked his chops as he eyed Mari, who trembled violently, "Ah that's right. Well, you s'pose we can still make her scream?"
He slowly drew a chipped knife from his belt. Mari pressed her back hard against the wall as he placed it on her cheek.Timbrell nearly charged into the room below, had Kyra not held him back, urging him to remain silent with her hand. Kyra's mind scrambled quickly for a spell that could take out a pair of trolls. Epiphany flashed over her as she bit her lip to draw blood.
"You ugly gutworm, only thing she'd scream at is that horrid breath o' yours!"
The male withdrew his knife and glared hatefully at his companion, "What did you just say?"
She looked at him puzzled, "I didn't say nuffin'."
"Nuffin' yer tiny brain can figure out, least."
He growled, "Yer jumpin’ around on thin ice, stump lumps! Just 'cause yer Aerabis' favorite squeeze don't give you the right to go around callin' names!"
She furrowed her brow, "You get into some of them funny lookin' mushrooms again?"
He snarled, "This ain't got nuffin to do with no mushrooms!"
"'Sides, anything's better than eating the week old compost you cook up! I couldn't sit down for days without gettin' a second helpin' from behind!"
The she troll drew her axe fiercely, "Now who's jumping on thin ice?"
"It'd be better than havin' to stand here lookin' at yer corpse of a face!"
They both roared in unison, "That's too far!"
Axe and knife flew into action as the two trolls hacked and stabbed at each other. They threw punches and bit into stony flesh, beating one another senseless. Before long, the she troll stood victorious over the corpse of the other. She heaved ferociously as blood dripped from her open wounds. A smile worked its way across her face as her beady eyes locked onto Mari.
Kyra dropped into the room from the vent and applauded the troll, "Not bad, for someone with rocks for brains."
The she troll spun around in confusion, as Kyra's voice still sounded like the dead troll. Before she could register what had transpired, Timbrell pounced from Kyra’s shoulder and sliced through the troll’s neck with a short sword he had pilfered from the goblin carts. Her head fell from her body as the corpse tried to advance a few steps toward Kyra. It crumpled at her feet as Timbrell hacked and stabbed at it, screaming in his own high pitched rage. She dismissed the spells still burning away at her blood. She took a deep breath to fight the fatigue her anemia threatened and moved to Mari's side.
A simple unlocking cantrip popped the shackles open, tipping Mari outward. Kyra caught her before she hit the ground.
Timbrell dropped his blood soaked weapon and jumped into Mari's shaking arms.
"Mari, are you alright? What did they do to you?"
Kyra only knew a weak healing spell she practiced in her youth at the priory, but she quickly employed it to staunch the worst of Mari's wounds. The door to the outer hall burst open as another troll charged into the room. He stared in shock at the corpses on the ground. As his bewildered gaze turned to the trio huddled against the back wall, Firbalg dropped into the room from behind, a wicked blade in each hand. The troll gasped in pain as the goblin scaled his backside like a rock wall, using the knives as his pittons.
The troll tried to grab Firbalg, but he moved too quickly. Each stab wound seemed to slow the troll significantly until he could no longer move at all. He opened his mouth to roar as he turned to stone, fixing the lungful of air inside the newly formed statue. Firbalg glared at Mari as he jumped down from his victim. Mari grasped Kyra’s hand fearfully as the goblin approached.
She patted her friend softly, "It's okay, he's with us."
Firbalg snorted, "Oh, missus is the wise guide now, is she? Lucky fer me ye knows every secret to Caer Teallagh. Where would I be's without yer expertise? Likely dead. Good thing she knows so much about trolls and their rules of three."
Mari tugged at Kyra's robe frantically as she signed to the best of her ability. The words she could not form with one hand, she painstakingly spelled out.
"Alright, just calm down and hold still a minute. I'm going to try to get you well enough to walk, then we;ll go save Sawain aand Naralei."
Mari's tears rolled down her cheeks as she sniffled and worked her good hand,
Kyra turned to Firbalg, "My friends are in trouble. They took one to the World Forge and are setting a trap for Sawain."
Firbalg stroked his chin thoughtfully, "Could be's they intends to fire it back up. We'd best gets moving. Yer hero might needs a hero of his own."
Kyra nodded as she finished stitching Mari's biggest wounds mostly back together, "Alright, that'll have to do. Can you walk, Mari?"
The young elf used the wall to gingerly pull herself up as Kyra helped. She tested her weight against her legs, then nodded once satisfied. Kyra turned to Firbalg.
"What's the fastest route to the World Forge?"
He frowned and scratched his head, "Down. The World Forge be's at the bottom of the Hold. We be's at the top here in the Palace. This place looks like a holding cell, which means we be's in the dungeon. That helps. All we needs to do is gets to the refuse room not far from here. There be a chute in there that drops garbage and waste down to a pit on the bottom floor where an incinerator burns them all up."
Kyra laughed sarcastically, "Okay, enough jokes, what's the real plan?"
Firbalg shrugged, "I don’t tells jokes. Fastest safe way down is through the refuse room. We gobs used it all the time to break out of prison. Only some of us died from it. Besides, the incinerator runs only with electricity. Since the World Forge be's turned off, there be's no incinerator."
Mari twisted her mouth nervously,
Firbalg moved to the open door and tilted an ear toward the hall outside it. He waited a moment, then poked his head outside.
"All's clear out here. I can gets ye to the refuse room, but ye has to sticks with me this time. No more goin' off on yer owns."
Kyra, Timbrell and Mari nodded in agreement. Firbalg scowled at them a moment before he sighed and slipped out the door.
The four moved quickly through the maze of stone corridors, following Firbalg's precise path. The dungeon itself did not contain many guards. Mostly a handful of sleeping vampyr and two or three ghosts that roamed the halls. Firbalg managed to avoid them by hiding behind the many crates of tribute Malsivith had looted from the city and stored down here. The goblin only got turned around one time, complaining in muted whispers that the place had added new rows of cells since his last visit. It did not take him long to regain his orientation and deliver the party to a small square chamber marked by dwarven runes. Kyra's basic knowledge of the language thanks to Axel's tutelage allowed her to read it. They had reached the refuse room, and with practically no resistance. They slipped into the room and were greeted by a stench that made Kyra retch. Firbalg placed a finger to his lips.
"Keeps yer stomach in check, lass. It'll be's much worse at the bottom. Come on now, climb in."
He pointed to a hole in the wall, not much bigger than the ven
t she had crawled through earlier. At least it was wide enough for a human to fit through. She looked at Firbalg beseechingly.
"Are you sure there's not another way?"
An unfamiliar voice spoke in the hallway, "Did you hear that?"
Another responded, "Aye, it came from the refuse room."
Firbalg winced, "No time to argue! Get in! Now!"
Kyra, Timbrell and Mari ran to the hole and scrambled in, Kyra first. She screamed as the steep slope of the chute dropped beneath her, launching her downward. She soon hit a less steep angle as the chute curved to the right. as she slid along the greased tunnel, light periodically shot past her from openings similar to the one she climbed into. The slide went on for several minutes before she thudded to a halt. The chute had launched her into a large dark room where she landed in a soft pile of stinking garbage. The smell in here made her gag, yet she held her composure beyond that.
Mari, Timbrell and Firbalg splashed down beside her as she quickly cast a darkvision spell on herself and rolled to her feet. Firbalg helped Mari up quickly and shouted as the sounds of pursuers echoed from the chute.
"We has company, ladies and furball! Best get ready fer a fight!"
They moved to the far end of the room. Kyra quickly thought up a useful combat spell as Firbalg drew his pair of daggers. An electric hum filled the air as the ground at Kyra's feet began to glow and heat up.
Firbalg muttered, "Of course," as he quickly looked around. "Kyra, throws up a protective spell arounds us now!"
She quickly grabbed the blade of Timbrell's knife and pulled as her hand split open, spilling her blood. She concentrated hard on forming a bubble of arcane energy around the four of them. Her blood sizzled as it pooled around her and took form. A glowing, translucent sphere hardened around them as three ghosts flew into the room from the chute above. The leader of the group pointed a pale spear at the mage and the three charged right as the floor erupted in hundreds of tiny columns of flames.
The ghosts screamed as their ethereal forms evaporated along with all the piles of garbage and waste that clogged up the floor. Kyra winced as the extreme heat radiated into the bubble, despite being protected from the blaze. Anemia tugged at her as her shield threatened to collapse under the torrent of flames. Sweat dripped from her nose and chin, evaporating in little hisses as the drops hit the floor. Finally, the blaze died down and the four were left alone in a dark, empty room. Kyra dropped the shield and braced herself against her knees as she heaved for fresh air.