Nadaz, the purple-robed Voice of the Host, led a party of black-robed rats up from the depths of the underground construction. The causeway steps wound their way around the sides of the abyss, from the green misted deeps to the broad torchlit ledge. The blackrobes halted, and Nadaz came forward until he stood before the statue of Malkariss. Sometime in the distant past it had been carved from a column of limestone which stood near the brink of the ledge. The thick column was the result of stalagmite meeting stalactite, and it reared from the ledge to connect with the high arched cavern ceiling. It was carved into a monstrous effigy of a white polecat with teeth of rock crystal and eyes of the darkest black jet. The torchlights from a large wheel-shaped chandelier illuminated the terrifying idol. Nadaz bowed his head and began chanting,

“Malkariss, Ruler of the pit,

Lord of the deep and dark,

I am Nadaz, the Voice of the Host

To which your servants hark.

Hear me, O Ruler of eternal night,

Whose eyes see all we do,

King of the void beneath the earth,

we bring our pleas to you.”

“Speak, Nadaz. Tell me that my Kingdom is ready.” Malkariss’s voice was a labored hiss which echoed around the rocks as it emanated from between the unmoving crystalline teeth of the statue.

The purple-robed rat stretched his claws in supplication. “Lord Malkariss, the rocks will not haul themselves, nor will they be cut into blocks to be laid one on another. Four more slaves have died of late. We need more workers, strong young woodland creatures who can labor for many seasons.”

Nadaz stood awaiting his master’s answer, not daring to look up at the awful glittering jet eyes.

“Are there no more new captives lying in my cells?”

“Lord, the cells have stood empty for a long time now.”

“What of the longtails at the river; have none passed this way?”

“None, Lord, who dares to climb the high plateau and risk the pine forest.”

“Hmmmm. Then you must carry on with what you have and work them harder. Get word to Stonefleck. Tell him to watch for the masked fox. He has been gone two seasons now.”

There was a prolonged silence. The torchlights flickered and winked from the flecks of mica and crystal which studded the cavern walls as the blackrobes stood impassively at the head of the steps, waiting upon the Voice of the Host. Finally Nadaz bowed.

“Malkariss, I hear and obey!”

Turning, he swept through the ranks of blackrobes, leading them back down the causeway steps. They were soon lost in the green mist that arose from the depths. From below, there came the sound of chiselling and hammering, the scraping of great stones being dragged and the crack of whips, intermingled with the weak anguished cries of young woodland slaves imprisoned beneath the earth into a life of forced labor.

The statue of the immense white polecat stood alone in the torchlight. A sigh emanated from the mouth.

“Aaaaahhhhh, my kingdom!”