3

 

A Darkness Revealed

 

“Captain!” Braden shouted, his voice reverberating in hollow echoes down the tunnels.

Aaron leapt to his feet at Braden’s shout, instinctively reaching for his sword. He found the dwarf dashing from door to door, anxiously looking down each hall and shouting for Garam. “What’s going on?” Aaron demanded, as his heart pounded in his chest with the excitement of the moment.

“It’s Garam… he’s gone!” Braden spoke, his voice quivering in desperation.

“Gone!” he said. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I mean, gone!” Braden said anxiously. “There is no sign of him anywhere.”

The noise of Braden and Aaron woke Lorik, and he jumped to his feet. “What’s all the commotion?”

“Garam has disappeared,” Aaron replied as he quickly strapped his sword to his side and began to gather the provisions into his satchel.

“Where would he go?” Lorik asked.

Aaron breathed a heavy sigh, reluctant to tell the other two about his conversation with the dwarf. Realizing, however, that they would not be satisfied without some explanation he spoke. “Last night,” he began, “Garam was quite convinced that we were being stalked by some form of shadow creature—a wraith. From the moment we set foot in these tunnels he was certain that something was watching us.”

“Well,” Lorik said, “I’m sure that we all could feel that way in this damp dungeon.”

“True, but for Garam, it was more than just nerves. He seemed possessed by the idea that some creature was pursuing us,” Aaron replied.

“What if he was right? Perhaps he was taken by a wraith and drug off into some antechamber in these ancient catacombs. How are we ever going to find him?” Braden openly wondered.

Aaron was unsettled by the situation and didn’t like the thought that Garam might have been correct. Since he had dismissed the dwarf’s anxiety as nothing more than an irrational fear, he felt a great sense of responsibility to his aged companion. He looked up at Braden, “We begin to search for him.”

“Which way?” Braden asked. “He could be down any one of these corridors.”

“We’re not going to aimlessly wander through these tunnels,” Aaron said. “We will take the passage that was marked by the warning of the guardian. Garam’s interest in it tells me that this is the way he would go. And if there is a guardian in these dark halls, then that might be the direction to follow. In any event, I suspect that the way out of here is through there,” he said as he pointed to the passage with the dire admonition.

“Great,” Braden said. “It would stand to reason that the one tunnel we might need is the one with the darkest, most ominous warning.”

Aaron turned to Lorik. “You’re a skilled tracker,” he said. “I need you to pick up his trail.” The three companions gathered their gear and stepped into the dark, foreboding hall.

With only one illumine stone left, the passage was dismally lit. The reddish glow from the small orb offered little light, just enough to see a few paces in front of them as they crept along the ancient passage and listened for any sound of their lost companion. The signs of Garam’s journey down the corridor were obvious. His boot prints clearly marked his passage and was easily seen in the old dust that blanketed the floor.

“It’s my guess that Garam came this way not more than an hour ago. These footprints in this dust are barely touched by the draft that seems to constantly blow through here.” Lorik hesitated for a moment. “I just don’t see any sign that Garam was abducted. There are no other prints in this passage.”

The tunnel turned and twisted through the granite, passing like a serpent through the hard stone so that they could no longer see the glow of their dying campfire behind them. Around a corner the three men spied what appeared to be a distant flicker of light. Cautiously they approached, peering into the darkness before them, their own steps echoing along the cold stone passage. Their anxiety only grew when they discovered that the light ahead of them was merely the reflection of their glowing stone on Garam’s axe. The weapon rested forgotten against the rock wall with small stone fragments scattered about the blade. Above the axe, etched like a scar in the granite wall was a fresh crack where Garam’s axe had hit.

“Well,” Lorik said, “whatever happened didn’t happen without a fight.”

“At least we know we are on the right track,” Braden added.

Aaron, however, was more concerned than ever for the missing dwarf. He couldn’t imagine Garam forgetting his weapon and could only guess that the dwarf was overpowered by the unseen assailant or overcome with fear. “Let’s not linger,” Aaron said. “We don’t know what Garam is facing and we must not waste time.” He turned toward Braden. “Take his axe; we may yet have the opportunity to return it to its rightful owner.” He stepped out quickly with Lorik and Braden fast on his heels.

Around another corner, as the passage continued to twist and turn, they stumbled upon Garam’s helmet and the illumine stone. Braden bent down to pick up the artifacts, “He must be gone,” Braden whispered. “A dwarf would never leave his gear behind.” Braden handed the headpiece to Lorik.

They continued their journey down the corridor, winding through the stony earth. Hours passed when, around another bend, a faint glow began to illuminate the distant tunnel. The shimmering, golden light grew brighter with each step, flooding their eyes with an intensity that they hadn’t seen since they first stepped into the dank underground passage. They approached with extreme caution, unsure what to expect. Lorik and Aaron had their swords drawn; Braden held Garam’s weapon at the ready as they approached the light.

The passage opened into a large, luxurious hall with light seeming to cascade all around. High above, over one-hundred feet, the arched ceiling was decorated with vast scenes of an ancient realm. Mosaics of great castles looked down from above with colorful banners flying high over golden towers. Tall, broad pillars reached up from the floor like massive stone fingers, carved with ancient pictures and wound with golden wreaths spiraling up to the top. On the walls, ornate woven tapestries hung with illustrations of mighty heroes, untouched by time. Around the room, marble statues of mighty men, covered in scintillating armor, kept silent vigil as they held high their mighty swords. Other wall hangings and stonework decorated the massive room with scenes of mighty dwarves wielding great axes standing alongside warrior-men and elves holding longbows. The three companions were amazed at the sight of such a room. It seemed as if time had never touched the exquisite chamber.

Yet, for all the décor and artwork that filled the ancient hall, what drew Aaron’s attention was what he saw in the middle of the room. A large carved basin filled with crystal clear water dominated the center of the chamber. As the three men approached they noticed that they could see to the very bottom of the pool, hundreds of feet deep. The basin was wide and shaped in a perfect circle. Rising up from the water in the exact center of the pool was a tall, stone obelisk carved out of the same grey granite which formed the entire underground network. Emanating from the pinnacle of the stone monument like a fountain was a brilliant shower of light which rose up into the air and spilled its illuminating glow throughout the room. They could see no source for the light, it seemed to the three companions that the light simply was.

“Captain!” exclaimed Lorik. “Have you ever seen such a sight?”

“No, Sergeant, I can’t say that I have.” Aaron was just as astonished as his sergeant, unable to fathom the display.

Braden stood in awed silence, staring up at the spectacle with a look of fear and delight.

Aaron’s strong sense of duty and responsibility brought him back to the matter at hand. He looked at his fellow travelers as they marveled at the pillar, and the light that issued from above it. “Lorik!” he commanded.

The sergeant snapped back to attention and faced the captain. “Sir.”

“We’ve gawked enough at this. Garam is missing and we must discover which way he went. There are tunnels leading out of this room, find the one that he used!”

As Lorik looked around, he counted seven other passages that emptied into the large room. “It might take some time, Captain.”

Aaron thought for a moment, he appreciated his sergeant’s patience as it steadied his own nerves. “Then get to it. In the meantime, Braden and I will take a closer look at this pool.”

The three of them ate a quick lunch, washed down with water from their flasks, and began their tasks. Lorik quickly went to work and began with the first door left of the passage they came through. Groping around the floor and looking at all possible signs of passage, the sergeant was near to a bloodhound when it came to tracking. His keen eyes, trained through years of experience, would not miss a mote of dust out of place or a discarded thread of hair. The large, round room, however proved to be a challenge even to his practiced eye.

As Lorik busily examined the various tunnels that exited the room, Braden and Aaron cautiously stepped around the water’s edge. The rim of the massive basin was smooth as glass, unmarred by any crack or blemish in the stonework and untouched by the decay of time. The water was still, crystal clear, and cold to the touch. No apparent spring fed the pool as it shimmered in the dazzling brightness of the light above it. Aaron gazed in awe upon the construction and pondered what society could have possessed the skills to create such a place.

“What a wonder it is,” Aaron whispered to himself as he circled around the large pool.

“What’s that, Captain?” Braden asked.

He had almost forgotten that the dwarf was still with him. Aaron turned and looked at his companion. “Nothing,” he said, “I’m just amazed at the sight of this room… of all that I’ve seen. I’ve never believed the ancient myths of the Elder Days, but I’ve seen too much to dismiss them any longer.”

“Indeed, Captain,” Braden replied to Aaron, “it is possible that there are mysteries far beyond our knowledge that are nonetheless true.”

“Well,” Aaron responded with mock surprise, “you’re a philosopher as well!” He looked down at his dwarf companion. “Can you also decipher these markings upon the floor?” Aaron pointed to a spot on the granite floor that was marked with several deep inscriptions of gold. The writing was in the same style as that of the plaque which guided them to the large, circular room, but Aaron couldn’t make sense of any of the symbols.

Moving to join the captain, Braden stared long at the markings. “These are ancient,” he said, “but as for their meaning, I don’t know.”

Both Aaron and Braden stopped their investigation when Lorik shouted, “I’ve found something!” His voice echoed in waves against the stone walls of the room. The other two dashed to where the sergeant stood, looking down the length of a long, dark corridor. “Captain!” he exclaimed, “Garam was taken through this tunnel.”

“Taken?” asked Braden.

“Yes,” replied the sergeant, “I don’t think he went willingly. These scratch marks in the dust show that someone was dragged through this area.”

Braden leapt across the fallen timbers, not waiting for the other two. With Garam’s axe clutched in one hand and the glowing stone in the other, the dwarf disappeared down the corridor, leaving his two companions behind. The sound of his boots beat against the stone floor like two hammers, reverberating with synchronous echoes. Aaron and Lorik paused for just a moment before they quickly rushed after their frantic friend.

They turned a corner and were immediately swallowed up in the pitch-black of the hall. The fading light of the chamber behind them no longer aided them. If not for the illumine stone, both men would be lost in the encroaching darkness of the catacombs. Somewhere in the shadowed distance ahead they heard the pounding of Braden’s steps. Aaron held the stone aloft to shed light in the passage as he and Lorik pressed on.

 

****

 

“Help me… please!”

Braden heard the hoarse plea of desperation and then what sounded like a splash coming from the darkness before him. He ran forward several more paces when, by the glow of the stone, he saw the reflected shimmer of a large pool with Garam struggling in the midst of it.

Braden rushed into the lake, splashing through the freezing water. Garam fought against an unseen adversary, clutching at his throat as if some mighty hand were trying to choke the life out of the dwarf. “Let go!” Braden shouted, not knowing what was happening to Garam. He grabbed Garam and tried to drag his companion out of the icy lake. To his shock and fear, something unseen was fighting against his efforts.

“He’s… got… me!” Garam rasped, fighting for every gasp of air.

Again Braden tried to haul Garam out of the lake but to no avail… whatever held the dwarf was too powerful for him. He couldn’t see the invisible assailant and didn’t know what to do. Suddenly the sound of pounding feet echoed in the room as if an army were approaching. Braden looked back to see a dim red light bouncing in the darkness, keeping rhythm with the sound. In the dim glow of the illumine stone, Braden easily identified Aaron and Lorik as they ran toward the lake.

“Captain!” Braden shouted as he waived his stone in the air. “Over here!”

 

****

 

Running through the dark cavern, they were upon Braden in a moment. Aaron examined the entire scene in an instant: Garam struggling in the water, clutching his throat, Braden next to him, the large lake, and the enormous room. A sudden thought rushed through his mind and he knew, as if by instinct, what he needed to do. “We’ve got to get him back to the light! Lorik, Braden, help Garam… carry him if necessary, but we must get back to that room!”

With Lorik’s help, they were able to drag Garam out of the icy depths, hoisting their comrade onto his feet and half carrying, half dragging the dwarf to the large chamber. With Aaron holding both stones, they began a quick march back the way they came. Faster and faster they moved, until they were almost running with Garam in their arms. His breathing grew shallow, gasping—almost gulping—for every desperate breath of air. He would be gone in moments, Aaron feared, if they couldn’t find their way back in time.

Several minutes later, though it seemed to be hours, they were back in the well lit, circular room, the light filling their eyes. The men brought Garam right to the water’s edge. Suddenly the light above the obelisk flashed blindingly brilliant. In that moment, the other three finally witnessed the shadowy form of a large creature clutching Garam’s throat. The creature, vile and malevolent, writhed in agony at the explosion of light. Then, in a great shriek, shattering the silence, the wraith arched its spiny back and vanished from sight.

Garam began breathing again, gasping and panting as if he had been held underwater too long. Looking at the three others staring down at him, he just shook his head in exhaustion. For some time he couldn’t speak, trying to catch his breath as he sat in the warming light of the room. After a while, he took a deep breath and spoke his tale to the others.

“When we arrived in these tunnels,” Garam began, “I was certain that I had heard whispered voices carrying along the corridors. Even from the stairway, I was sure that there was something aware of us…even watching us.” Garam paused, taking a deep breath as he began to regain his strength. “I thought I could see the shadowed figure of a wraith. We made camp and, when the three of you fell asleep, I began watching for the creature, knowing that it was after us. Before I knew what was happening the creature was upon me. I tried to strike it, but all my efforts were useless,” Garam continued.

“What we saw,” Aaron said, “was some shadowy figure that vanished when the light flashed for a moment.”

“The wraith dragged me to the edge of some underground lake to drown me in the water. When Braden found me, the monster had me clutched in his grip, choking the life out of me,” Garam continued.

Lorik sat amazed at the conversation. “Captain,” he said, “what are we dealing with here?”

Aaron looked carefully at Garam, somehow knowing that the dwarf was holding back. “Garam,” he said, “you need to tell us the whole tale.”

Taking a deep breath, Garam was hesitant as he spoke. “There is more,” he said. “The wraith is the guardian. It is said that the guardian is a terror of great evil that guards the secrets of the ancient kingdom… that it dwells in the shadows of the fallen city and can only be defeated by the King.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” interjected Lorik.

“I don’t know. The ancient texts only speak of a terrible guardian who roams the broken paths of the fallen city… these very ruins.” Garam was reluctant to continue the dialogue and would give no further information.

“That’s it?” Braden offered a questioning glance at the older dwarf.

“Well, we need to keep moving,” Lorik said. “If there is a creature haunting these corridors, we need to try and keep ahead of it.”

“No,” Aaron said. “We’re not going anywhere until we get to the bottom of this.” He turned again to Garam. “You said that the guardian roams these halls and yet you are the only one to have any kind of encounter with it. Why you? Why does it seem most interested in you and not any one of us? It is a rather particular wraith if that’s the case.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Garam protested.

“I think you do… I think you know more about this guardian than you’ve said.” Aaron would not relent from his inquisition. “Why did you insist on bringing us down here when you knew that this terror lurked in these catacombs?” Lorik and Braden looked at the captain with perplexity, obviously not knowing why he was so intensely questioning Garam.

Garam sat near the central pool, sullen and despondent. “It should have been you!” he whispered harshly. “It should have been you the wraith attacked and not me at all!” Glaring up at Aaron, Garam fixed his hardened gaze at the captain.

“What do you mean, it should have been me?” Aaron pressed, as he stood a little taller in dominant authority, arms crossed over his chest.

“The guardian is an ancient creature which thrives on the fears of others. I was certain that if I brought you down here it would have focused all its might against you, destroying you in the process!” Garam hung his head in humiliation.

“Why?” questioned Lorik.

“Because your people rebelled against the King and destroyed the kingdom!” Garam exclaimed. “It was your people who rose up against him and brought the centuries of darkness that all of Celedon has endured. You have no right to the Book of Aleth, and I will not see it fall into the hands of the emperor!” As he spoke his anger and rage grew increasingly hostile toward Aaron.

“So,” Aaron said with a calculated tone, “the guardian sensed yours was the greater fear and worked its evil on you.” Aaron paused as he considered his next course. “Garam,” he continued, “what are your intentions now?”

“I won’t let the book fall into the hands of the enemy again.” Garam’s voice was defiant but calm. “It belongs to those who wait for the restoration.” Lorik and Braden watched with keen interest, measuring the war of wills that raged between the two.

“And I tell you, dwarf,” Aaron replied coolly, “my intention is to find this book and finally unlock the mysteries that have plagued me since starting this little adventure. But, I will not let you or anyone else use the Book of Aleth to wage war.”

“Garam,” Lorik spoke up, calm yet resolved. “So, your intention was to bring us into these catacombs and use that shadowed creature to destroy us?”

Garam turned his head away and kept silent.

Lorik leaned forward, brows raised. “Was this planned by you or by your Lord Dunstan?”

Again, Garam remained quiet.

Then Aaron spoke up, “It doesn’t matter. The truth is revealed and your plot exposed. We still need to get out of these tunnels, however, and we will need you to guide us.” He paused as he stroked his growing beard. “What assurance can you offer that you will guide us correctly?”

“I want to leave these catacombs as much as you,” Garam said through clenched teeth. “As I’m able, I will take us to the southern exit.”

“As we’re all in this dungeon together, I fear I have no other choice but to trust you.” Aaron turned to Braden. “Return his axe; he may still need it before we find our way out of this place.” Braden handed it over. Garam strapped it to his side and straightened his beard. Aaron looked to his sergeant. “Lorik, you and Braden gather up our gear and prepare a small meal. Garam and I are going to examine the writings in this room.”

The companions separated and began to tend to their tasks. Garam and Aaron wandered around the pool of the obelisk and closely studied the writings that encompassed the water, hoping to unlock their meaning. Occasionally Garam would gasp in wonder at what he read, but did not disclose anything beyond that.

“Well,” Aaron questioned, “what does it say?”

“These writings are part of an ancient text… a prophecy describing the restoration of the kingdom and the coming of the King. Let me finish my work of deciphering them and I will tell you all,” Garam snapped. Again he turned his attention to the words encircling the pool and spoke nothing more until he had completely navigated around the entire perimeter.

 

****

 

Meanwhile, Lorik and Braden made preparations for a meal. They collected the packs and redistributed the load to make it more manageable for each person. Then Lorik watched Aaron and Garam walk slowly around the pool.

“I wonder what they’re talking about?” Braden asked.

“Well,” Lorik said, “knowing the captain, they’re not talking about anything other than their task. The captain is a gentle man for a soldier, but he will not tolerate betrayal. If he doesn’t trust you, then he can become a formidable adversary.”

“How long have you served with him?” Braden asked.

“He’s been my captain for three years… though I’ve known him much longer,” said Lorik, “and in all that time I’ve seen him overcome more than just an angry dwarf. He’s considered to be the most skilled swordsman in Celedon; and I have found him to be a cunning leader.”

“I’ve got it!” Garam declared. Lorik looked to see the elder dwarf waving his hands triumphantly. Lorik and Braden hurried to where the others were standing over the writings on the floor.

 

****

 

Garam knelt at the writings, wringing his hands in excitement.

“Garam, what does it say?” Aaron was anxious for answers.

“Apparently this is more than just a room; it is the central complex of the entire underground network. The pool is called the fountain of the King. There are four directional marks, one for each pole: north, south, east, and west. The writings between each of the pole markers are portions of the prophecy.” Garam thought through the writings again, still working on the translation.

“Each direction indicates something concerning the restoration:

From the south will come the one who sees

The truth of all eternity

From the east the hope for all mankind

The power of all that is divine

From the north will courage rise again

The heart to fight until the end

From the west will restoration bring

The spirit of the ancient King

“What does it mean?” asked Lorik.

Garam was still overwhelmed with excitement about discovering the complete text of the prophecy. “Mean? Oh, yes, I forget that the men of Celedon have never been taught the words of the King.”

“True enough,” said Aaron. “Most of what we’ve seen these past few months has decimated what I’ve believed since my youth. So, deal with us as if we were completely unfamiliar with the text you’ve just translated.”

Garam heaved a sigh. “Very well.” He paused to regain his thoughts. “It was said that from each direction of the compass would come the fulfillment of a portion of the prophecy. Each race was given a trust to keep… a responsibility to teach the words of the prophecy to their next generations. The entire text was lost, however, and until now there has never been a complete writing of the whole prophetic word. You can see why the finding of the book was such an important event for us; it signaled the rebirth of the prophecy for the truth was to come from the south!”

Lorik grew impatient with the ramblings of the dwarf. “So what does the entire text mean?”

“What it means,” Garam continued, “is that from each corner of the realm, a portion of the prophecy must come to fulfillment before Celedon can be free from the bondage of darkness. From the south it is said that one will come who will rediscover the truth and begin the process of freeing the nation from the deception of the emperor. From the east would come the power that could only be wielded by the King. From the north, the portion entrusted to the dwarves, was strength of courage, and we believed that it would be the dwarves who would bring that courage back to the nation. And from the west, as is written, the spirit of the King would rise again and bring restoration to the land. Of all the prophecies that were spoken, the one that gives us the greatest hope was the one that was lost…the prophecy of the south. Men were entrusted to pass on the knowledge of the King, but the emperor set out to destroy that knowledge, even killing those who still believed.” Garam paused to allow the others to take in the knowledge of what he said.

Aaron was deeply troubled, knowing that he had a hand in destroying those who still possessed knowledge of the King, those who were considered dissidents and enemies of the state. He no longer trusted in what he used to know and even more needed to recover the book, to discover the truth for himself. “It’s time to move on,” Aaron said with subdued seriousness. “Garam, which of these markings points south?” Garam pointed to his right, at a passage that meandered away from them into darkness. Without another word Aaron gripped the illumine stone in his fist, hoisted his satchel onto his shoulders and started walking with resolve to the southern corridor.

Long strides took Aaron away from the pool and through the doorway. Garam was the first to follow with Braden and Lorik close behind.

“But what about lunch?” Braden called and sprinted to catch up with Aaron.

Aaron was set in his determination, his countenance stern. Braden, in comparison to Aaron’s long steps, had to almost jog to keep up with him.

Aaron looked down at the dwarf who had stepped so lively to reach him. “So, Braden, are you still pleased to be out of the prison and in this dungeon with us?”

“Indeed, Captain,” Braden responded. “I wouldn’t have missed this journey for anything.” He smiled in the dim light, enough for Aaron to chuckle at the response. “But Captain,” he continued, “I do have a question for you.”

“Oh,” Aaron was surprised at that. Having known the dwarves for such a short time, he had come to believe that they were rather self-assured in their knowledge of things.

“Yes, Captain. How did you know to bring Garam back to the central room? How did you know that he would be freed once we brought him to the light?” Braden sounded sincere in his inquiry.

“I didn’t know,” Aaron responded slowly. “I simply thought, or rather, the thought came to me that it seemed reasonable a creature of shadows would find it difficult to endure the light.”

“Hmm,” thought Braden. “Inspiration comes to those who seek the truth, or so it is said in Brekken Dahl. Perhaps you were inspired.”

Aaron took another look at the dwarf who walked beside him. “Philosophical again?”

“No, not really,” Braden said, “just wondering what path you’re really on and hoping I can see you walk it to the end.”

“Well, then,” Aaron said, “perhaps you could answer me a question.”

“If I’m able,” Braden said.

“How is it, when we met in the barracks, you walked with a limp and now you seem as agile and able as any one of us?” Aaron looked down at Braden and chuckled as he considered how much his diminutive companion had changed.

“Oh,” said Braden with mock surprise, “well, in honesty, I was never actually crippled. I only did that so the other dwarves would leave me alone.”

Aaron nodded in amusement. “Well, for my part, I’m glad you were only acting.”

Afterward, both travelers fell silent in their own thoughts. Garam and Lorik, as well, walked along the corridor in silence; the only sound they heard was rhythmic cadence of their own footsteps. The passage they traveled was like the others: dark and cold. Their small stones were incapable of dispelling the murky blackness more than a few paces ahead of them. The cold, damp air chilled the companions to the core, causing them to hasten to their next place of rest. Aaron held out hope that the underground passages were symmetrical, and that the corridor would lead them to a guardroom like the one they had already stayed in.

After several hours of walking even the sure-footed Braden began to grumble under his breath about their continued travel. However, his protestations were short-lived when they entered into another guardroom, square and unkempt. A door which used to hang on the iron hinges was nothing more than a rotting pile of lumber on the floor. The room itself was no larger than the first, with three other corridors that emptied into the chamber. Like the other guardroom, a hole high up in the ceiling allowed for a small fire to be built and the smoke to escape. The remnants of furniture and a rusted iron pot littered the floor along with countless years of dust.

Aaron remembered their experience in the other guardroom and watched Garam carefully for signs that he was in distress. “Garam,” he asked, “have you seen any indication of the guardian, any shadow or movement?”

“No,” was all he answered.

“Then will you begin a fire for the night?” asked the captain.

Silently Garam began the task. Braden and Lorik gathered wood and piled it in the center of the room, directly under the ceiling vent. Garam bent down with his hands cupped around a small scrap of wood and spoke the words that would bring the flame. This time, however, though a blue flash of fire issued from his hands, the wood proved far too damp to burn.

“Captain,” Garam spoke, “there is no way we’re going to have a fire tonight. This wood has rotted completely through and is soaked with the dampness of this dungeon.” Lorik and Braden gave an audible sigh of disappointment, hoping for the warmth of a fire. Instead, they chose a small alcove in the southern wall, and nestled down for a cold meal and some rest. Aaron, holding one of the stones, examined their small accommodations to try and figure out a way of escape.

“Lorik,” Aaron said, “come and look at this.”

With a sigh the sergeant heaved himself up and went to Aaron who stood nearest to the eastern doorway, examining something on the ground, holding his dim light close to the floor to gain a better view. Lorik came up to his side. “What is it, Captain?”

“It’s these markings on the floor. I can’t quite make out what they mean. I need a tracker’s eye,” Aaron said as he pointed to several marks that were scratched in the dust.

Lorik bent down to look at them. What he saw appeared to be the footprints of several creatures passing through the corridor. Taking the light from Aaron, he pressed his face to the floor to examine the prints more thoroughly.

Lorik carefully traced his fingers along the edge of the tracks. “I’ve never seen a print like this,” he said. “Look here, they’re unevenly spaced and each one leaves a mark as if it has a talon-claw where a heel should be.”

“What do you think?” asked Aaron.

“I don’t know. I would say that there were several down here… perhaps a dozen or more, but I couldn’t begin to tell you what kind of creatures they are. Garam or Braden might be able to identify them.”

“Garam, Braden,” Aaron said, “we need you to identify some footprints.”

“Indeed, Captain,” Garam replied. Both dwarves stood and went to where Aaron had seen the marks.

Garam looked down at the imprints in the dust on the floor. “I’ve never seen anything like these. But I have never been out of Brekken Dahl.”

Braden, however, seemed to know exactly what they were and began to tremble as he stared at them. “These were made by creatures called gremellaks.”

Standing next to the captain, Lorik sighed. “Oh, great, something else we’ve never heard of.” He looked at Aaron. “At least we’re still heading south; these tracks clearly lead down the eastern corridor.”

Braden shook his head. “I don’t think you understand. Gremellaks are creatures that mainly live underground, cave dwellers who despise anyone trespassing in their dens. They are not very intelligent but they run in great numbers. Their talons can rip the best armor to shreds and can tear through flesh like melted wax. They are smaller than trolls, but just as ferocious. I don’t care what tunnel we head down, if they discover our scent they will be on us like a swarm.”

Lorik looked at the dwarf. “Have you come across these creatures?”

“Yes, I have,” Braden responded. “They were said to only live in the Kanton Mountains. We discovered a den of them while on an expedition. I didn’t think that they could cross the expanse of the wastes between here and there.”

“Based on these tracks, I would say they have,” said Aaron. “We still need rest, but we must post a watch through the night. I will take the first watch, Lorik the second, then Garam, and Braden. Two hour watches, no longer.”

Since Garam had given up trying to start a fire, they put the illumine stones in their vest pockets. In complete darkness, the four sat silent. Braden and Lorik quickly fell asleep, their heavy breathing the only sound that filled the cramped space. Soon after, Garam also fell asleep, restless even as he slumbered. Aaron sat just outside the small alcove and listened for any sound, any patter of feet to indicate that some creature was approaching.

A crisp breath of air whispered through the catacombs, reminiscent of the wind that would steal in through the cracks of his old orphanage. His heart thumped in his chest as he recalled his childhood, but he willed himself to dismiss the foolish fears of his adolescent days. Time trudged on and finally the moment arrived to wake Lorik.

The night passed for each of them with the same, silent vigil. No motion, no sound, nothing to indicate that any creature was aware of their travels through the gloomy halls under the Shattered Hills. Braden, having taken the last watch, woke the other three when his two hours had passed, and they all ate silently in the small cave. Collecting their gear, they entered the southern corridor, their stones lighting the way.

Having spent the entire night in absolute darkness, the stones seemed extraordinarily bright. Each one welcomed the illumination as they hurriedly marched up the southern passage, anxious to find their way out from under the earth. As they traveled, they soon discovered that they were walking uphill. The pitch of the floor was slight but it offered a welcome indication that they finally began ascending to the surface. It enlivened all four of them, knowing that they would soon be out of the dark, dismal catacombs.

The way grew steeper as they journeyed so that they panted with the exertion. His muscles burned, but Aaron ignored the strain as he willed each step. The hallway was plain, simple stone, carved out of the granite. Flecks of gold and silver flickered in the passing light of the illumine stones when all of a sudden the wall disappeared in front of them and opened into another massive room.

Their lights were far too dim to see the expanse of the hall they had entered, but towering pillars and massive stone statues stood within reach of the light. Large tapestries, tattered and worn, their images faded and marred by time, still hung with gold chains upon the wall. A pale, white light glowed far to their left.

“Men,” said Aaron, “I think we’ve found our exit!” His enthusiasm resounded in his tired voice. The others patted one another’s backs in excitement, but their joy was short lived.

From behind them, coming up the corridor like the sound of hundreds of clattering stones, echoed the dreadful approach of unseen pursuers. The sound thundered in their ears and their hearts sank, fearing that they would be caught before they could escape.

“They’re upon us!” Lorik shouted.

Aaron drew his sword and it rang from its sheath as he rushed to stand with his sergeant. In the dim glow, he threw himself into the battle, where Lorik fought against more than a dozen diminutive adversaries. The gremellaks wore no more than a jerkin, bound with a leather belt, and they wielded short serrated swords. Their eyes glowed with a greenish-yellow light, and their hands and legs looked thin and stretched. The creatures emanated a stench like rotting flesh. In a moment Aaron and Lorik were completely engulfed by the swarming throng. The soldier’s battled valiantly as they parried and slashed at their attackers.

Braden and Garam rushed to Aaron and Lorik’s defense, swinging their battle-axes with incredible skill. Together they fought with desperation, fending off the gremellaks until the four companions were the only ones standing. A dozen gremellaks lay strewn across the floor, bloodied and dead. Blood trickled from a gash on Braden’s arm, and Lorik could barely wield his sword for the exertion.

“We’ve got to move!” Aaron shouted to the three others. He held Lorik and helped him through the hall. The four of them ran as fast as their weary legs could carry them, muscles burning from exertion. From behind them came the rumbling noise of the approaching hoard—a second wave.

Broken statues and fallen stones littered the floor as they weaved their way through the debris. Drawing nearer the source of light, Aaron hoped that it was a corridor of stairs leading to the surface. A piercing cry went up behind them and they turned to see dozens of green glowing orbs weaving and bobbing up and down, drawing closer with every step. With Aaron’s help, Lorik ran toward their only escape. Braden followed close behind, agile and deft in the underground room, with Garam last of all.

 

****

 

The three others couldn’t see it, but Garam did! A large, shadowy figure stood just before the stairwell, mocking and laughing at him. Aaron, Lorik, and Braden ran right through the shadow, unaware of its presence. Garam was caught and stood in stark fear, just three paces from the stairwell and freedom. The gremellaks rushed in from behind and threw him to the ground; his axe flew from his grip.

Serrated swords slashed at his body, cutting his beard and ripping flesh from his arms and legs as he desperately tried to fend off each blow. Above him, Garam could hear the mocking hatred that issued from the wraith’s laughter. He was finished. Struggling against a dozen foes, he writhed and twisted to grasp his weapon which had fallen just beyond his reach.

Then, from somewhere in the distance like the echo of a memory, Garam heard the sound of a dwarf’s battle-cry and in an instant three gremellaks fell, their heads severed from their necks. Through blood-soaked eyes Garam watched Braden, standing over him like a battle-dwarf of old, fierce and powerful. One after another of the gremellaks fell to Braden’s blade. The falling hoard tried to attack but was no match for Braden’s ferocity… and then Garam lost consciousness.

Garam woke as searing pain wracked his entire body. His chest felt like it was being crushed; he fought for every shallow breath, and he could feel life oozing out of multiple open wounds. Above him the faces of his three companions gazed down at him; expressions of sorrow filled their eyes with unabated tears. A cool wind blew across his face, carrying with it the scent of pine. “Are… are we out of the cave?” he asked, gasping with great difficulty for every word.

Aaron knelt beside the dwarf. “Yes, we made it safely to the southern edge of the Shattered Hills.” The captain choked back his grief as he clutched Garam’s hand. “You’ve led us well.”

“How… how did I make it out?” Garam struggled to ask.

“Braden… he realized that you were not among us and went back down the stairs to get you,” Aaron whispered.

Garam reached his hand toward Aaron’s face, motioning him to come closer. Aaron bent down with his ear to the Garam’s mouth.

“I… I’m, sorry.” With a long exhale Garam closed his eyes, and would never open them again.

 

****

 

Aaron didn’t try to stop the tears streaming down his cheeks. Finally, Lorik spoke up, “Captain, we should care for the body.”

Aaron nodded. “Yes,” he said, “of course.” Together the three companions gathered enough stones and, having placed Garam’s axe on his chest, they buried their fallen comrade. In silence they stood near the mound for what seemed like hours, motionless and grieving.

Aaron finally broke the stillness just as it started to rain. “It’s time to go.” Leaving behind their fallen companion, they turned and left the Shattered Hills.