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An Unsung Death in Geoff Part 2 |
Posted by: JasonZavoda
on Saturday, March 04, 2006 - 09:20 PM
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Needs Intro
When the ogre fell at last, some unseen cord which held Ragnar upon his feet snapped away and he fell beside it. Getting up was hard, his ribs sent rivers of pain through his chest. Walking was an agony, it should have been simple, but Ragnar was finding it difficult. One, two, one, two, he shouted the command for his feet to move. Left, right. He managed a breathless, staggered walk.
The porch was less than waist high but the steps were gone, shattered beneath the ogre's ponderous weight. Ragnar stopped, then braced himself at its edge. The house had become deadly quiet, he had taken too much time with the ogre. He rolled himself onto the porch. Before he could bring himself to stand, he crawled, and coughed, a rough liquid cough laced with blood. He braced the heel of his axe against the porch floor and rose slowly to his feet.
Ragnar entered the house with axe raised. His eyes searched for movement, for the flash of weapons or the presence of enemies. He saw only blood, debris and death. The body of some tortured man across a table, the crumpled body of a gnoll to his right against the wall. He stepped further inside. To his left, first the body of a goblin, beyond that lay Emiel. "Damn" he swore. He'd sworn to protect these men. In this he'd failed.
When Emiel pushed himself to his feet Ragnar recoiled in surprise.
"Emiel!" Ragnar shouted "You’re alive!"
"Of course I'm alive." Emiel said as he rose from the ground. He moved slowly and gave a twisting stretch then rubbed the back of his head. "I had one of those orcs cornered, then something hit me from behind, knocked me out for a minute."
"The others have run." Ragnar looked toward the black square of open door along the back wall. "They have gone deeper in or maybe fled the house."
"Fled no doubt." Emiel said. "I saw most of them run when I came in." Then rubbing the back of his head again he said " Thought they'd all gone or I wouldn't have been taken by surprise." He looked around at the wreckage scattered about the room then back at Ragnar. "Where is Thaddeus?" he asked.
A flush came over Ragnar's face, glad to find Emiel alive though he was, Ted's death beneath the hands of the ogre troubled him. "He's dead."
"Who's dead?" a voice asked from the front doorway.
Ragnar turned to face the voice and with an incredulous tone he said "You are, damn it man, I saw you die!"
"You saw wrong" Ted said and walked into the room.
"What is all this Ragnar?" Emiel asked "Everyone looks dead to you tonight." He looked over Ragnar then with a critical eye, noting the battle worn shabbiness, the fatigue, the bruises, cuts and abrasions splashed with the blood of the ogre as well as his own. "But its you that looks the better half of dead."
Ted on the other hand looked disheveled but in good health. True he was streaked with a coating of dirt and mud, and his hair was a bird’s nest of twigs and brambles, but between the two Ragnar looked far closer to death’s door.
"I heard the snap of your neck." Ragnar came up to him and looked at Ted suspiciously.
Ted rotated his head from side to side then reached a dirty hand up to scratch a patch of drying mud under his chin. "You heard him snap my spear in two no doubt, then he gave me a slap like I'd give an urchin in the market, knocked me off my feet." Then cheerfully said, "I'm glad you killed the beast. I would have tried to help, but its little slap had the kick of a mule."
"Maybe" Ragnar said unhappily. He did not like to doubt his senses, though when he was enraged he saw and felt much that he was beyond his normal ken.
"Over here!” Emiel called pulling Ragnar's attention away from Ted. He stood near the long, scarred wooden table, a relic of the manor’s past, now holding the sad remains of the monsters’ last victim. "This is not who we were to meet."
Ragnar paced over, moving carefully so as to avoid jarring his ribs. "How can you tell?" he asked. "He has no face."
Emiel looked away for a moment then said in an emotionless voice "Because the person we were to meet is my wife."
"And you wanted us to wait." Ragnar spluttered out. A flash of anger crossed Emiel's face, his shoulders stiffened and a vein along the temple of his head throbbed.
Ted spoke up from behind them. "You do not know." Ted said. "You have not seen what we have? You have not lived in fear and hiding, year after year."
"You could have left." Ragnar said in defense.
"I could have left, Emiel could have left, even his wife could have left...." Ted began but Emiel interrupted.
"Many people have left Geoff. Those who were quick or strong or lucky. There were thousands who couldn't. I don't know if there are thousands anymore, maybe it’s just hundreds...I have seen so many dead. Skeletons bleaching in the fields, in piles of refuse the giants have had hauled from the towns, forgotten in the ruins of home after home." Then Emiel stared Ragnar in the eye. "But there are still people here who cannot leave, not without help. And I will never leave, this is my home, and if I am the only one left to fight the giants and their vermin, I'll stay here and fight alone."
"We fight when we can and how we can" Ted said. "A lot of times we can't just go and fight when we want to the most."
"You speak well." Ragnar said with grudging respect "But I do not see that turning away from a fight, even a fight you will lose, I do not see that as a good thing. You Southerns, you think you can lose a battle. Vatun wants brave men for his hall in the after life. In the north we know that a warrior is born to die in battle, not in bed. The man or beast that takes my life does not defeat me, he opens the doors to Vatun's hall and lets me in."
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 19 2004 : 01:39:39 AM
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Part XII
"Warrior?" Ted laughed "I'm no warrior, I don't know what I am now, but I was a baker. Dying in bed, old and fat sounds damn good to me."
"I've seen battles lost Ragnar, that’s about all I've seen." Emiel said grimly.
Ragnar looked at them both sadly. "You talk like thralls." Then he shook his head "I can tell you this, you only lose a fight when it is in here" and he thumped his fist against his chest. "You only lose when you let yourself lose, your enemy can kill you but he cannot defeat you. You can only defeat yourself, I can tell you this but when you think like a thrall, I cannot make you understand."
Ted just turned away, "I'm going to go get the horses" he called over his shoulder as he left through the front door.
"So what now?" Ragnar asked.
Emiel did not answer for a moment. He was busy searching through the ragged and soiled piles of cloth and debris scattered around the room. He had pocketed aan item here and there, place a large jagged-bladed dagger in his empty sword sheath and several small knives in his belt.
Ragnar leaned against the frame of the open front door. He kept an eye out for Ted and the horses.
Emiel came over holding a torn length of green cloth, stained but freshly so. "This was his I believe" he said and stretched it between his hands. "Hold this." he offered the cloth to Ragnar.
Ragnar reached out his hand to grab it but Emiel stopped him. "No, hold it like I am with both hands." With the cloth held taught Emiel examined it closely, bunching up one part in his hands then moving to the next. He did this for a few moments then stopped. He drew a dagger from his belt, tested its edge against the nail on his thumb, frowned at its dullness, then drew another. He tsk'd, a small clicking sound from the back of his throat. "Needs must." he mumbled and began working at a portion of the cloth.
"What madness is this?" Ragnar asked, but Emiel ignored him. The dull knife tore, rather than cut, at the threads of the cloth. Emiel forced the weave apart and sawed till he had opened a hidden pocket. He pulled from it a sheet of a silvery material.
"This.." said Emiel holding up the square of silver. " is no madness. But it may be a great deal of help later."
"What is it?" Ragnar asked.
"It is a key." Emiel answered.
"Strange looking key." Ragnar tossed the cloth to the side. Outside of the house they could hear the clomp of the horses. Ted had returned.
"Gather what’s useful" Emiel said to them "throw the rest into the fire."
"We should just burn the whole place." Ragnar said looking around at the ruined interior. His eyes passed over the litter and refuse, the bodies of gnoll and goblin, and came to rest on the corpse of the man. "We should make it a pyre."
"And attract more attention." snorted Ted. "Besides we use this place ourselves."
"This is a loathsome den." Ragnar said appalled.
"It has a roof, walls, and a solid floor." Ted snapped back. "Better than sleeping on the ground, out in the wet and cold."
"It smells like hell, give me the open air instead of this place anytime." Ragnar tested the balance and line of several spears which lay against the wall as he talked. Picking the best out of the lot he tossed it over to Ted. "Here, yours is no good broken."
Ted snatched it out of the air and weighed it in his hands. He looked at Ragnar and nodded.
The fire blazed away, fed with sword, shield and spear. Better burnt and warped than left for the hands of the goblins to retrieve.
"And him?" Ragnar said looking at the corpse.
"He's too big for the fire." Ted said matter-of-factly.
Emiel looked at Ragnar with a set expression on his face and a stiff determined manner. "I don't like leaving him either, but we don't have time to bury him and we are not burning the house."
Ragnar walked over to the table. He reached down and lifted the man carefully, grabbing him under the arms and setting him down gently with his back against the wall. He had to stop and let the pain from his ribs subside, then braced himself.
The table was large and sturdy. Its edges were rough, hacked and scarred by countless knives, its top gouged with crude pictures and random marks of violence. Ragnar bent and put his shoulder against it. He grunted with the effort and with a painful scraping, pushed it flush against the wall.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ted asked.
"If he cannot be set to lie in peace then let him be lord over the place of his death." Ragnar said between ragged breaths. He lifted the man’s body once again an set him upon the table like a king upon a crude throne. "You who died beneath the blades of your enemies." He said to the corpse. "Let this be your domain in death."
Ragnar walked over to the body of the goblin. With one hand he lifted it and set it upon the table, laying it upon its back, its eyes staring blindly upward. "Let this be your thrall to serve you till Vatun calls the heroes of the Oerth."
Ted and Emiel simply watched in amazement and said nothing. Ragnar walked past them and grabbed the body of the gnoll. He dragged it over the floor and with a heave flung it under the table. " Let this dog watch over you..." He paused, then went quickly to the fire. Wrapping a rag around his hand he drew a great curved sword from the blaze. Its metal was blackened but unbent and the leather around the hilt danced with flames. He smothered the hilt with rags and took it, still smoking, then pressed it into the stiffening grip of the dead man." ... and the souls of all the accursed and unshriven dead be sworn to the steel of Vatun's heart, by the steel in your hand and under your dominion. If you cannot find rest in Vatun's hall, let you wield a sword upon the Oerth in Vatun's name till the final horn sounds."
"What barbaric nonsense was that?" Ted demanded
A cold sweat ran down Ragnar's face. He staggered by them both and left the house. Emiel and Ted looked at each other, their skin prickled and they quickly followed Ragnar outside
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 24 2004 : 8:35:02 PM
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Part XIII
The fog had lifted. Outside, Luna shown across patches of the ground with a pale silver light and threw the rest of the yard into a deeper blackness. The horses twitched and fidgeted, visibly disturbed by the presence of death and the smell of blood.
"We'd better get them away from this." Ragnar said noticing their agitation.
"Yes." Emiel agreed "They're going to need some time to quiet down. There is a place nearby where I had planned to spend the night. The horses should calm down once we are there."
"I thought the house..." Ragnar began.
"No." Emiel interrupted him. "The house is a meeting place, but it’s never really safe. Too well known and too often used." Emiel walked across the porch to the end of the house and peered around the corner. He called out to Ted "Take Ragnar and the horses, I will meet you shortly."
"Why? " Ted asked.
"I want to find my knife. I left it over here but it seems to have crawled off with one of the orcs. I don't think it could have gone far." Emiel called back, then dropped off the side of the porch and went around the far side of the house.
"Come on." Ted said to Ragnar grabbing the bridle of Emiel's horse and his own. "It’s a bit of a way."
Ragnar said nothing, but wheezed in a rhythm with his footsteps, stifling a groan from time to time as his ribs were jarred over and again.
* * *
A trail of blood led from the porch to a crawl-space under the house. Emiel kicked off his boots then his leather armor before crawling underneath himself. He striped down as if for a swim and dived after the cornered and wounded beast. It was quiet for a short while then from somewhere below the house came a muffled but terrible scream and the thumps and bangs of some desperate struggle, then silence.
Sometime later Emiel dragged himself out. He used a ragged cloth he'd brought with him to wipe a coating of blood from his body. As he sat and pulled his boots back on a small congealing stain on the back of his hand caught his eye. He licked it off with a rough red tongue and smiled contentedly.
* * *
Ragnar stood with both his arms raised. Ted was wrapping long strips of cloth cut from a horse blanket around his upper chest. A dark bruise ran down Ragnar's right side, from his armpit to just below his ribcage. It went from a yellowish brown at the edges and darkened to a deep blue-black at its center. That was the worst, but Ragnar ached from head to toe and he was covered with cuts, gouges and scrapes from his fight with the ogre.
They stood in a small chamber beneath the ground. Above them the horses were fed, watered and brushed, installed in a small building which from the outside appeared to be collapsed and uninhabitable, its entrance blocked and its interior unreachable. But a section of ruined wall could be slid aside, with some effort, and only after a trap, set to drop part of the structure upon intruders, was disarmed. Inside it appeared to be no more than a ruined shack, empty except for spider-webs and the scuffle of rats. Again, a disguised section of wall could be opened if one knew its secrets. Ted used the haft of his spear as a key, sliding it into a lock disguised as a rat hole along the base. Only with the spear in place, pushing back a latch within, was Ted able to safely open the door. Once inside he pulled the spear free and reset the trap.
Below, they entered into a small square room, its walls made of stones plowed up from the fields around. Racks to hold weapons, empty for the most part, and shelves to hold supplies lined three of the walls. A table was set against the fourth. Lanterns hung from brackets set in the corners. Ted lit one as soon as he entered the room. His footsteps clopped across the stone then drummed hollowly as he walked over a circular wooden lid set in the floor.
"What’s that for?" Ragnar asked him nodding toward the wooden lid.
"It’s an old well, and a way out in a pinch." Ted went over to it and put his hands around a metal handle folded into its top. He needed two hands to raise it but once he had, it moved easily.
Ragnar sat upon the table, his ribs ached and a great weariness settled over him.
* * *
"Ragnar, Ragnar..." Someone was calling his name and the dream slipped away. He exhaled deeply as if hee had been holding his breath licked his lips and opened his eyes.
"I wasn't sleeping." He lied.
Emiel stood over him looking down with an amused expression.
Ragnar rolled out of the thick blanket he'd wrapped around himself and began to rise, grabbing Emiel's offered hand and drawing himself to his feet.
The light in the chamber was dim, the room cold and the time very late. Ragnar yawned, a great leonine yawn. He scratched the back of his neck and ran his fingers through his beard pulling the tangled hair straight. "What is it?" he mumbled.
"Time to be going." Emiel said. "We need to make an early start."
Ted was busy repacking supply bags they had brought with them from Hochoch. He'd emptied their contents out across the table, then picked out several items and moved them to the empty shelves lining the walls. Now he was in the process of putting back what remained.
"We always try to leave more than we take." Emiel explained. "Ted, hurry that up, I want to be well away from here before daylight."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Ted answered. "Almost done."
"Where to now?" Ragnar turned to Emiel. "It seems that we are not to wait?"
"That would be foolish, and useless." Emiel said. He paced back and forth in a distracted manner, deciding what to say and what to keep secret. "Those orcs and goblins will run crying home to their masters, but I doubt they will return here before daybreak at the earliest. My people either did not arrive or left in a rush. I expected some message to be here, perhaps even Lilith, my wife, to be waiting." He paused, some random thought or worry distracting him momentarily. "My people maintain an outpost about a half days ride to the north. It should be occupied and we should be able to find out what has happened."
"Alright." Ted spoke up "All done here, grab your packs and let’s get going!"
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 28 2004 : 8:16:08 PM
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Part XIV
Leaving the hideaway took more time than it had to enter. Emiel and Ted performed a ritual of resetting traps and removing signs of their presence. Finally they left through the hidden entrance in the side of the wall and spent a few minutes to disguise it once again. They set out on foot, leading their horses over the rough ground, making slow progress, but better that than have the horses stumble and end up with a break or a sprain.
It was a cold, silent walk. Ragnar was fully awake, his ribs sending out bursts of pain, each jarring him like a splash of icy water. Clouds rolled in after the fog lifted and the night was black as pitch. Ragnar had to keep a hand against the side of Emiel's horse to avoid losing his way.
* * *
Morning came as a surprise. Ragnar had lost all track of time stumbling along over unseen ground unable to see anything more than a few paces away except as a dark blurred outline moving in the night. Slowly the dark began to pale, then separated into shades of black on black, then as a bluish outline dividing objects, one from another. Sometime during the night they had passed over a roadway, old and overgrown, but not yet swallowed by the encroaching fields. Emiel had turned them, moving along toward the north-west. Just before dawn, they veered off onto a track no wider than a deer run. As the sun rose its light revealed a narrow valley before them. To their right the land rose, ahead the path lead them through a sparse patch of woods and down toward the valley floor.
* * *
A small stream flowed beside the path. It had eaten a deep bed into the oerth over the years, revealing boulders the size of a dragon’s head in its midst. The water barely rose to a man's ankle, till the spring floods came at least, but it had followed this course a long, long time. Its banks were the height of a tall man and wider apart than two. Trees grew along its side opposite the path, the rise of the land there was gentle.
Alongside the path, the land sloped upward at a steep angle covered in a thick scrub. The brambles reached out and caught at Ragnar's cloak and boots as he rode by. The three riders made good time, keeping at a quick but unhurried pace, the pathway while narrow ran true and the ground even.
At the heart of the valley they came to a sudden halt. Emiel dismounted and signaled for the others to do so as well. In the stream, next to the path, there was a wide flat boulder. It took up about half the width of the stream, water foaming and rushing around its edges. Looking about him slowly Emiel leapt from the bank to the top of the rock. He stood there for several moments, then turned in a complete circle spreading out his arms and holding them up at shoulder height. When he was once again facing the others he dropped his arms with a disgusted shrug and jumped back over to the path.
"Where is the guard?" Ted demanded abruptly.
Emiel looked around then back at Ted and Ragnar. "Something is wrong. We should have been hailed. Someone should be watching us."
Ragnar glanced around. "I sense nothing. Look, the horses are calm, they sense nothing as well."
"Damn the horses." Ted was agitated, he shifted from one foot to the other nervously and glanced up and down the valley hoping to catch sight of some elusive clue that would answer his fears. "First the house, now this.... what is going on?" he said with an unpleasant whine.
Emiel reached over and grabbed him suddenly by the shoulders. He gave Ted a shake almost lifting him from his feet, then regained his own composure. "We will find out, now get hold of yourself."
Ted said nothing for a moment then steadied himself. "Yes,...sorry about that. Its just that I expected to be coming home, even just to a hideout or some basement...things are different."
"Yes." said Emiel "We should have expected that all this business with Sterich and Hochoch would effect things. Stupid of me to think that everything would be the same. We've been gone too long this last time away."
"I keep asking, it’s your land." Ragnar said. "Where to now?"
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Aug 01 2004 : 9:25:58 PM
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Part XV
They travelled only a short way further down the valley before stopping again. Ragnar could see no real difference between this portion of the path and any other they had ridden over for the last hour. Steep slope to their right, stream to the left with a thinly forested rise on the opposite side. Once again Emiel dismounted and crossed the stream, but this time he jumped from boulder to boulder and then onto the far bank. In the underbrush among the trees he reached down, pulled something free, then disappeared from view as if the oerth had swallowed him whole. It seemed only a few short moments before the brambles to their right, along the steep slope, parted. A wide double-doored gateway opened beside the narrow path, the heavy brambles and vines adhering somehow to their outerface. Emiel stood within the dark entranceway.
"Come in." he said to Ragnar. “Better loosen your axe, something is very wrong here indeed."
"Welcome to the Rat's Nest!" Ted exclaimed and gave Ragnar a slap on the back.
It was very dark. The corridor beyond the entranceway was wide and tall, carved from blocks of a black-veined rock. The light seemed to struggle to illuminate it and gave up the task only a short way inside.
Emiel was a few paces ahead of Ragnar, one moment he was a vague shape the next he vanished as he stepped beyond the diminishing rays of sunshine. Ragnar halted.
"Emiel." Ragnar hissed. Ted nearly collided with him as he came up from behind.
"Rao's Teeth!" Ted cursed. "Watch it! Why'd you stop?"
"You two might have aelven eyes, I need a light to see in the dark." Ragnar answered back.
"You're right, I just know this place well." Emiel said. "I have a lantern and some torches with my pack. Let’s go bring the horses inside and close the front gate."
* * *
The horses gave them no trouble. They led them inside single file and removed the packs that Talberth had provided. In Emiel's pack they found not only a lantern and a small supply of oil but Ted also showed them a small dimly glowing stone wrapped in cloth.
"I found this back at the hideout when I unpacked the saddlebags." he explained unwrapping the stone carefully. He did not remove all the cloth but just enough to show the powerful beam it cast. Holding it in his hand it turned his skin translucent showing a shadow of bones. He placed it within the lantern, clamping it where the glass flue would have been, and dropped its shutter. With a twist he turned the metal screen and a wide beam of light shot out. "Saves us the oil."
"A lightstone, good thinking" Emiel said.
"The skalds at home use such, my Uncle Hardraada has them set throughout his hall" Ragnar boasted.
"How nice for him." Ted said sarcasticlly.
"There is a chamber ahead which we use to stable horses." Emiel changed the subject.
"Ha!" Ted snorted. "The last horse we had here, we ate. Remember that winter, Emiel."
"Shut-up Thaddeus." Emiel commanded with a touch of annoyance. "We have serious business ahead. I found signs of intruders...bodies, some of them our own people."
Ted's mouth snapped shut, his flippant reply died on his tongue.
* * *
With a wire cord brought to trap small game Ted secured the lantern to the haft of his spear. It wavered above his head but still lit a good deal of the corridor beyond them. Emiel led them but Ragnar was at his shoulder, his axe in hand. He held it by the metal sheath near the bladehead ready to strike out in a lunge with the steel topspike or slash with the curved axe-blade.
They came to a large door which blocked the corridor. It was ajar, its face showing the effects of a battering that had splintered the iron lock and dislodged its hinges. Ragnar stopped to examine it but Emiel put his shoulder against the wood first and attempted to push it open a bit more. "Give me a hand." he said to Ragnar. "We need to make it wide enough for the horses to pass."
The two strained against the twisted metal of the hinges. The door sat slightly at an angle and its bottom edge dragged across the stone floor with a screech. Suddenly there was a loud pop as the hinges broke into pieces, the bottom of the door hit the ground and the top swung back against the wall. Emiel and Ragnar both jumped away saving their boot-tips and their toes from being crushed beneath the door’s ragged edge.
"Between that noise and all this light we've got as much chance as a fire dragon in the middle of a market to pass undetected." Ted said with exasperation.
Beyond the broken wooden door, now set against the corridor wall, having taken the strength of Ted, Emiel and Ragnar combined to set it so, the lantern light revealed an empty and barren pair of alcoves. Emiel led them past these without comment, but Ted turned the lantern to illuminate first one then the other.
Ragnar noted a splash of what could only have been blood staining the floor of both, then caught the sickened expression on Ted's face, his greenish tinge may have come from a reflection of the dark veined stone but Ragnar did not believe it.
Ahead the corridor continued on straight, even and level. The horses began to whinny and they buffeted both Ragnar and Ted in their nervousness.
"Not much further" Emiel called back to them. Ragnar stroked his horse’s neck, a gelding of even temper, and it began to calm. Ted pulled at the bridle of his mare, it whuffed, snorting, and rolled its eyes.
"Vatun's beard!” Ragnar called to him "You're just spooking it even more."
"Bah!" Ted replied contemptuously. "I know what I'm doing." His horse did not agree. It came to am abrupt halt and Ted leaned back trying to pull it forward with brute strength, an uneven contest to say the least.
Emiel came down the hall, placed his horse’s reins in Ragnar's hand then roughly disengaged Ted from the tugging match he was having with the horse.
“Hey!" Ted objected.
Emiel ignored him. Instead he walked slowly and calmly up to the horse, then began to brush gently but firmly along its neck. Once it had settled he turned back to Ted. "Thaddeus," he said, "show Ragnar the entrance to the stable."
Ted looked aghast, "Is it safe?"
"As safe as we are in this corridor." Emiel replied. "If not safer."
"Alright" Ted said glumly. Ragnar passed him the reins of Emiel's horse as he went by.
The corridor was well lit as Ted walked at the front carrying the lantern above him. It ran what seemed a fair distance before revealing another pair of alcoves set to each side. Ted's steps faltered as he approached them, a swash of blood was smeared across the stone floor ahead. It went several feet then turned into the alcove on the right. Now it was Ragnar's turn to walk into the stalled body ahead of him. He was not taken by surprise as Ted had been earlier but stopped, his horse head to tail with Emiel's, and Ted's horse, led by Emiel, with his.
They formed an uneasy line down the length of the hallway. Ted drew upon his dwindling supply of courage and led them to the lefthand alcove. At its back the wall was drawn aside, a secret door, hidden with surpassing craftsmanship. Beyond, they followed a short but wide passage which ended in a large unlocked set of double doors. These doors were thin, made from boards of wood. Some care had been put into their making but little skill. Pushing them aside, Ted entered the wide high ceilinged room beyond.
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Aug 04 2004 : 10:03:33 PM
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Part XVI
What the room had once contained Ragnar could not tell. Now it housed their mounts and it had obviously served such a purpose in the past as well, but the intricate stone work, a combination of pale granite, the ever-present dark veined blocks and a speckly greenish rock, spoke of some more elaborate design.
"Are we going to just leave them here alone?" Ted asked Emiel, indicating the horses who nibbled at a generous supply of hay.
"Better than leaving them outside." Emiel said. "And we can't take them with us. I will set the lock in the hidden doors. They will be safer than us."
"Oh great, wondeful." Ted said and went to retrieve his spear.
* * *
They had all taken a few things from their packs before leaving the stable, just in case. Ted still carried his spear with the lantern wired to it just below the blade, an awkward combination for an already cumbersome weapon when used indoors. Emiel led them, though they traveled in a close group.
In the passage outside Emiel stopped then approached the blank southern wall. He removed some small item from a chain around his neck and touched it to a space midway up the stone surface. It seemed to sink into the rock as if it were mud, then there was an audible click, and he turned away.
"That was the entrance to the western guardroom and the way I came in from the outside." he explained to Ragnar.
"Another hidden doorway?" Ragnar asked.
"Yes, this place is rife with them." Emiel replied. "I have always felt that there should be one just opposite," he pointed to the north side of the passage, "but I was never able to locate it."
"This place has too many secrets." Ted said over their shoulders. "Was there anyone in the guardroom?"
"No one." Emiel looked grim. "There should have been but it was abandoned."
"When?" Both Ragnar and Ted asked at the same time. Ted made a flinging gesture with his right hand to remove the bad luck.
"I don't know. How old is that blood in the corridor." Emiel answered.
"Maybe we should check the guardroom first, there might be some clue to tell us." Ragnar looked at the blank southern wall.
"No, I want to see if we can find someone. This is a very big place. We hadn't explored more than a fraction of it when Thaddeus and I left." said Emiel. "There are many places that our people could have retreated to."
"Yea, there are plenty of hidey holes around here." Ted added.
Emiel turned and locked the hidden door at the back of the alcove using the small metal key he wore around his neck. Ragnar and Ted stood at the juncture with the corridor looking down one way then the other.
"Which way?" Ragnar asked. "Looks like we can follow this hall, and I'm betting that there is another of those hidden doorways secreted across there." He pointed with his axe toward the alcove opposite. "Not so secret anymore with that trail."
The floor was covered in a layer of dried blood. It went into the alcove and disappeared against the blank wall at its back.
"Yes." Emiel agreed looking at the bloodtrail distastefully. "The eastern guardroom is beyond that door." then gesturing toward the wide hall to their left he said, "Down the corridor is the entrance to the complex itself. Hmmm...." he wavered indecisively.
"Let’s see if we can find someone alive." Ted spoke up. "That," he said pointing to the dried blood, "doesn't make me think were going to find a welcome home party on the other side."
Ragnar knelt and brushed a finger across the dark stain. He looked it over in the lantern light noting a few small flakes and a small outline of grey. He reached over and ran another finger along the unmarked floor of the corridor. Holding it up to the light his finger showed a greyish black grit.
"Looks like the blood’s been there for a little time." he said showing Emiel the grime on his fingers. "It’s picked up a coating of dust already."
"How much time?" Emiel asked
"No way to tell." Ragnar said. "Not offhand. How dusty is this place?"
"Dust!" Ted exclaimed angrily "That’s probably someone I knew, and you want to know how dusty this hole is?"
"Thaddeus." Emiel said quietly but with unmistakable menace. "I'm getting sick and tired of your outbursts. I won't tell you again. You will shut-up and stay calm. Do you understand." he commanded.
"...yes." said Ted in hushed whisper. Without moving an inch he seemed to withdraw, stepping into the shadow of Emiel's authority.
Ragnar looked on with an uncomfortable eye. Any warrior of his clan would die rather than submit to such a rebuke, even a thrall from his homeland would show more backbone.
"Now, I'm sorry to say I don't know." Emiel said to Ragnar. "I never paid attention to such details. What is your guess?"
"Days." Ragnar said looking at the dark grime on one finger and the light grey dusting on the other. "But not weeks, two three days I'd wager."
"Recent." Emiel muttered. "I don't believe in coincidence." he said. "We return and the meeting place is infested with orcs and goblins, no one was at the hideaway or left a message, and now this. Something is very wrong."
Ragnar walked to the back of the alcove following the trail of dried blood. He placed a broad hand against it, the stone underneath felt solid through and through. He gave a push, but it was as massive and unmoving as any other block of stones along the hall.
"Yes." Emiel said coming to a decision "Let’s see what has happened here, my imagination is worse than anything that could be behind that door." He slipped the key into the unseen lock and turned it with a click.
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Aug 09 2004 : 9:50:02 PM
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Part XVII
The door slid open only a few inches then stuck. There was no handle to draw it back and no one wanted to risk their fingers between the door’s edge and the walls. All three lined up and braced their shoulders against the hidden door. They heaved and pushed till veins stood out on their necks and their shoulders bruised, but the door ground open only a single inch and would go no further.
"It’s jammed." Emiel said breathing hard.
"The base is almost flush with the floor." Ragnar kneeled down to examine it. "I doubt I could get a knife blade between."
Emiel drew the lantern down and directed its light into the small opening. It showed only a handsbreadth of wall beyond. " I feel almost relieved." he said. "Nothing has passed this way since..." he began.
"Maybe." Ragnar broke in while Emiel paused. "I'd guess that myself, but we don't know for sure. Never rely on guesswork, but we cannot enter so it matters not."
"Right then." Emiel shrugged his shoulders. "The choice is made for us." He gave one last look at the blocked doorway then led them down the hall to the main entrance.
A noisome smell carried by a thin breath of air wafted toward them from ahead. Emiel slowed his pace his nose twitching. Behind him Ted let a small sound escape, a sob perhaps or maybe just a gasp. Ragnar tightened his grip on his axe, his knuckles showing white with the strain.
Along the wall a third pair of alcoves were set. Like the first these too appeared abandoned, but without sign of blood or conflict. As they passed them by Ragnar noted a face of stone projecting from the wall at their backs. Each bore the likeness of some stern faced dwarf, the large broad noses, heavy beards and bushy brows could belong to no others. Cloth of some sort was clamped in their jaws.
"What are those?" Ragnar asked Emiel in a whisper.
"Don't touch them." Emiel replied with some alarm.
Ragnar had been intending to do just that. He had taken a step toward the right-hand alcove as soon as he had asked. "Are they dangerous?"
"No, not dangerous." Emiel eyed them with dislike "But they are very annoying."
"What?" Ragnar did not understand.
"They'll never shut-up if you take the rags out," Emiel. "I'd much rather have them remain silenced."
Such things always roused Ragnar's curiosity. Like a child with a new toy he delighted in magical creations, it was what brought him into Master Talberth's service to begin with back during the fighting in Sterich. Reluctantly he left the magic mouths to their unwilling aphony and returned to his place beside Emiel.
They had taken only a few steps past the alcoves when the corridor came to an end. Stairs, a small flight of them, were ahead. They ran up to a higher level, still well below the surface of the slope outside, and ended in a large curved chamber. It was on these steps that they found the first body, though its head was not to be seen. The body of a man armored in chain links, a shield still strapped to his left arm lying across his chest. He had fallen backwards down the steps, a wash of blood showed his descent and a large dried pool had formed at the bottom. The crownless neck faced them, his legs stretched out toward the landing above and his right arm twisted at an unnatural angle as if he reached to scratch some itch between his shoulders. A sword of some gold-hued metal lay at the foot of the stair.
Ragnar, Emiel and Ted, all three stopped and stared at the dead man, a moment passed before they took another breath.
"It looks like Patel." Ted said with a disbelieving voice.
"It does." Emiel agreed. He lifted the shield and turned back the arm. Three broad scars ran from the heel of the hand down over the wrist. "It is."
"Where is his head." Ted asked but he did not question, rather expressed a thought that all three shared.
Emiel ignored him. Instead he gripped the body, Patel, a friend, a bloodless kin, and brought him from his uncomfortable perch upon the stone steps and gently rested him upon the floor.
Ragnar stared up the gore coated stairs to the chamber above. An arm lay across the summit dangling a lifeless hand over the edge of the top step, no more was to be seen from below.
His task done, his friend at some semblance of peace, both arms straightened at his side, the scarred and battered shield covering both chest and gaping wound, Emiel picked up the fallen sword and weighed it in his hand. A short blade, finely made, straight and double-edged. It had a strange cup-like guard and shown as a dull gold under the lantern’s light. As his hand closed around its hilt, Emiel felt an almost electric thrill run through his body and a voiceless murmur spoke to him, "Sunne" it whispered and then was silent.
"You ok?" Ragnar asked him, with some concern.
"Fine, yes, fine." He said. Emiel eyed the golden sword with speculation.
Ragnar took the steps two at a time, not eager, but they were carved for the tread of a much smaller man. Emiel was but one step behind and since the stairway was broad, ascended along the right, the way ahead clear of the tall barbarian.
The chamber was as wide as it was long and had great valves of metal, three massive doors, set to the north, the west and the east, along a curving stone wall. The ceiling arched high above them and at its center held a flat disc of glass or crystal. It ate the lantern’s light and threw back three powerful beams which washed over the metal face of each door
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Aug 13 2004 : 10:36:24 PM
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Part XVIII
Ted reluctantly followed close behind the pair, the lantern rested on his shoulder like a millstone, dragging him down, making every step a burden. He reached the top of the stairs and at first his eye strayed to the great ceiling and the light projected from its apex, but that took only a moment. Under the lantern's rays the room was lit like day and every huddled body thrown into clear detail. He looked away, the chamber was laden with the dead and carpeted with their blood and effluence. It was a gruesome scene, he dropped his eyes to his feet, but he could not escape it. Beneath his heel lay an outstretched arm, the same that Ragnar viewed from the corridor below, its hand like a wilted flower, but no shoulder united this loose appendage with its former host. It moved underfoot, round like a rolling pin he'd used to flatten dough, and soft like a steak left on a counter before cooking. He stumbled, and with legs bereft of all strength collapsed to the floor, one more body among the throng, atop the uppermost stair.
* * *
It had been a merciless struggle. Ragnar and Emiel paused for a moment at the head of the stairs and absorbed the sad spectacle before stooping to examine each crumpled form. Three bodies lay more or less intact, but a fourth had been literally cut to pieces. A torso, one arm severed at the shoulder, the other a stump ending just above the elbow and as with Patel, the head removed. Emiel was drawn to this grisly corpse, though his desire was to turn away. He kneeled beside it and searched for some mark that would distinguish it as the person it had been rather than the bloody carcass it had become.
Ragnar had grown to manhood in a harsher land. Death in battle was an honor bestowed upon the brave, but such mutilation brought glory to no one. He went to exam the other more intact specimens. The first appeared to be no warrior at all. The body was unarmored and clothed in a dark thick robe. It lay on its side, a sword thrust from back to front, a coward's wound, the blade still lodged within. He noted the tip, splintered, the point a jagged shard projecting from the corpse's chest. Ragnar glanced at the wall. A chip in its black veined stone and a fragment of metal at its base, it would take a mighty blow to shatter such a blade. He turned the body to see its face hidden under the robe's voluminous hood and beheld a young man, his dark brown beard trimmed neatly from side to side leaving a he-goat's whiskers. The eyes, a deeper brown, were open wide and his face held only a hint of pain, but much more they showed surprise, an unexpected death.
Beneath the body a staff of dark wood lay, its head that of a silver cat the eyes green gems. A line of script flowed down its length, but swam beneath Ragnar's gaze, he could not look for long. Its end was capped in silver too, but it bore no mark, no scratch or gouge from rock or stone, as if it never had been put to use, leaned upon or touched the ground.
With reckless curiosity Ragnar pulled the staff from the deadman's slackened grip and peered into the green gem eyes. The light glinted in them keenly, then with a sudden molten flow they blinked, the silver jaws opened wide and, showing fangs of pearly white, it hissed and spat full in the northman's face.
Ragnar gave a delighted laugh, it echoed across the walls and brought Emiel and Ted to shocked attention.
"What do you hold?" Emiel called to him from across the room.
"Some wizard's toy." Ragnar replied with a merry voice.
"That's no toy." Emiel warned. He gladly abandoned his gruesome task and with care approached the smiling barbarian. "Stop that!" he blurted out as he came within arm's reach.
Ragnar, oblivious to all else, held the growling staff with an incautious grip. He gleefully poked a careless finger at the snapping teeth and chortled with unseemly mirth at each hairbreadth miss.
"Why?" he asked with a note of amazement, then distracted for a fleeting instant cried "Yoouuchhh!" and pulled back a bleeding hand. The staff gave a yowl of victory and an audible purr of satisfaction
"*&!!%;#@!..." Ragnar swore incoherently and brought his bleeding hand to his mouth, but he did not drop the staff. He gave it any angry shake, setting the cat's head to hissing once again.
Emiel shook his own head at the barbarians unseemly antics. He eyed Ted's pale and morose face for a moment, then, deciding that he would find no help there, went back to his attempt at separating Ragnar from the staff. "For all our sakes," he told him, "Put it down."
"Bite me will you!" Ragnar yelled at the silver face.
"It may do more than bite, put it down, Ragnar, Ragnar!" Emiel gave the barbarian a none too gentle shove.
"Did you see what the vicious little beast did?" he asked holding up his hand. Two beads of dark vibrant red grew from his outstretched palm, they soon chased each other, leaving a crimson trail, and began to patter on the floor.
"Yes, and your lucky it did not blast that great lump of dough from between your shoulders." chastened Emiel.
Ragnar raised an eyebrow and held the staff in a firmer grip. "Alright." he reluctantly agreed "But this little trinket is mine." He set it against the wall near Ted, its presence seemed only to make the man bend further under a weight of gloom.
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Aug 17 2004 : 10:44:32 PM
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Part XIX
"That," Emiel said to Ragnar, indicating the headless, armless, corpse, "that is another of my people, I'm sure, but I do not know exactly who..." He trailed off sadly, his voice filled with a sorrowful wonder, so disfigured was the body he could not even guess its name.
"And this?" Ragnar asked nudging the goat-bearded man with the toe of his boot.
Emiel gave its side an angry sudden kick. "This is none of mine. Some damned hedge-wizard." He said, then with the cat-headed staff in mind added "Or much worse, some foul sorcerer maybe."
Ragnar bent to exam the broad belt which encircled the corpse. A series of pockets, pouches and flaps ran round its length. A small flat pack was strapped carefully across the back, its lower edge pierced by the sword which killed its owner, and, much to Ragnar's surprise, the robe itself had pockets sown into the cloth itself. These Southern's they did the strangest things, he'd never seen the like till he'd left his northern home.
"Be careful!" Emiel hissed over Ragnar's shoulder. "Best to leave this one in peace, ohh! Its no good telling you!" He turned away. "If you set off some glyph or ward I will not be standing near."
While Ragnar tempted the hand of Istus, Emiel moved far across the room. He did not resume his dutiful task but went instead to search another drying husk that once held the flame of life, as Ragnar did with the wizard's corpse. This one that Emiel stood above, it was not even human. A dwur, or in the common tongue a dwarf, it lay face down but its broad back, unnaturally wide as its legs were short, told of its heritage clearly.
Only one of the grim folk could have crawled away, as the thick trail of dried blood showed, from where its mortal blow had been struck. Emiel had no doubt that the gaping wound, whose ragged ends curved round behind its head, had been the fatal touch. He smiled grimly, his people were hard to kill, their hands as great a weapon as any blade, though a whispered voice echoed 'Sunne' within him at the thought of steel. Emiel well knew the reasons for such savage cuts that left his followers without head or arms.
Bending back to the fallen dwur, he turned it with a shove and looked into its cold dead eyes. "What brought you here?" Emiel asked aloud but to himself. "Into this forsaken land where men, and dwur, do not walk freely. Were you lead by Istus's hand or some darker god? Did you come for some forgotten treasure within these walls? My people guarded only themselves, and you and yours have brought them death. The reaper is your master now. Whatever your purpose here you have served him well." The dwur made no reply, its eyes were lifeless, the spark within long gone.
Emiel roughly searched the body, there was little to find. A well crafted shirt of chain, encrusted with a dark black coat that had flowed from the dwur's severed throat, useless to any but another of its kind. A broad dagger, sheathed on a wide leather belt. Emiel removed it, sheath and all, then discarded the dull and rusty blade of orcish make that he'd carried from the farm. The belt was odd, a handsbreadth wide and an iron buckle bigger than a fist. He loosened it then pulled the belt away, it was stiff and weighed much, much, more than it should. The inner edge had an invisible seam, Emiel missed it at first, then bending it a line appeared and ran round its center like a wheel mark in untrodden snow. He peeled each edge aside and within the belt a double row of golden coins was hid. Emiel weighed the trove in both his hands and gave a quiet whistle. He wrapped it twice around his waist, the dwur was twice as broad as he, and buckled it secure.
Boots, pants, and padded shirt held no secret hollows. A dinted helm was the only other accouterment it possessed. Still clutched in a deadly grip the dwur held its weapon tight, but Emiel had no need or interest in the broadheaded, spiked-back hammer, and let it lie untouched.
* *
Small crystal rods fell to the ground chipping and cracking on the stone floor. Ragnar managed to snatch a few out of the air as they dropped from the open pouch, but most escaped his grasp. "Hey Emiel!" he called over and held one up between thumb and forefinger, it sparkled with a rainbow hue capturing and reflecting the magical light shining from the lantern.
Emiel looked over his shoulder expecting to see that the barbarian had turned himself into a frog, changed his skin to blue, set himself afire or some other heinous consequence that came from tampering with a dead mage's pack. But Ragnar looked fine, he held the scintillating oblong out for Emiel to view and was none the worse for indulging his curiosity.
"Yes, very nice." Emiel said in a patronizing tone. "Light make pretty sparkles."
Ragnar closed his fist, extinguishing the glittering sheen and mumbled darkly under his breath. "Last time....little smart-a...weasly..." Emiel heard, catching snatches of muttered complaint from the grumbling barbarian.
**
The dwur's body held no further wealth so Emiel left it where it lay, face turned toward the arching roof, unblinking under the glare of the glowing disk at its center.
The last body, slumped against the northern door, sat with back against the sculpted frame. A human male, armored in a shirt of chain as fine as that worn by the dwur. Emiel was no expert but it seemed to him that the smith who crafted one, crafted both. The links, forged from a mix of metals stronger than each alone in purer form, were layered in tight rows of tiny rings. A lifetimes work, he could only guess, to bend and knit one ring to five and weave such a steely cloth. It made him glance back at the dwur's own shirt, perhaps the greater treasure was the one it had worn for all to see rather than the belt of golden coins it had kept hidden from sight. Time enough later, Emiel considered, to strip these loathsome dead.
So far he had found no clue as to any who, or what, or why, to answer questions about these villains or where his people were or if they still were at all. He feared he would find only the inanimate remains of those who once were his friends and kin, such as he had found already with Patel, or a count of bodies how many times as great? This man before him, it told him nothing at all, though all it possessed appeared intact, left abandoned, untouched by friend and foe alike. There was no crest or sign, no scrap of parchment or rune etched amulet to speak a name, or declare a liege, or claim a patron, either god or man. These were a nameless bunch or so it did appear, much like his own band, but well fed and here by choice not desperation. Emiel had no mercy inside of him for such as these, foul murderers, he called them silently within his heart and roughly began his search.
Another knife, a belt, a dagger in the top of dark black boots, a pack slung around the shoulders pillowing the corpse from the metal door. A fine long sword, the body held it in its hand, a weapon best wielded by those who had learned its use, as Emiel had not. He kicked it from the cold dead grip and sent it clattering across the floor.
Ragnar came over at the sound and caught the spinning blade beneath his boot, then bent and scooped it from the floor. "Hey!" He called to Emiel. "This is too fine a blade to scrape it across the ground."
"It's of no use to me" Emiel replied. "You take it. Or do you have the room?" he asked, looking to see Ragnar's arms already full. The mage's robe, Ragnar had made of it a huge black bag and stuffed it with pack, belt and almost every scrap of cloth at hand, the boots as well. The body now lay almost nude, he'd taken all but the linen drawers from the prostrate form.
The sword had an awkward feel, the axe was Ragnar's chosen blade, he had no liking for the uncurved edge. "Ted." he called "Take this." and tossed it underhand. Ted ducked down, flattened himself upon the stony floor and the sword sailed past, over head and down the stairs with a painful clatter that made Ragnar wince.
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Aug 24 2004 : 5:43:38 PM
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Part XX
The cat-head staff had subsided, its features immobile silver once again.
"I am not leaving all this behind!" Ragnar said displaying the robe-turned-bag which took both his hands to hold.
"Don't be foolish Ragnar." Emiel said. He held out both his own empty hands, palms forward, in a peaceful gesture.
"Foolish am I." Ragnar barked.
"Yes!" Emiel snapped back his patience wearing thin. "Look at yourself, you have stuffed most of what three men possessed within that robe. "He waved toward the well-looted dead. " We should just have passed these bodies by and come back to them on our return."
"Ha!" Ragnar laughed. "You did not hesitate a moment before setting to search them or call me away from removing these trinkets." He gave the bag a shake to accentuate his point and a broad-toed boot fell loose and clonked against the floor. "Hand me that will you." he nodded with his head.
Emiel retrieved the boot but held it in his hand and waved it beneath the barbarian's nose. "Boots and shirts, and iron rations soaked in blood, that's what you have there" he poked the bag, a knotted arm came free and leaked a stream of cloth and belts and tinder kits.
"Ohh, now look what you've done." Ragnar moaned. He struggled for a moment, the bag turning in his arms, then as the other knots came loose as well, he flung it hard against the wall and gave an angry curse. "There!" he faced Emiel with his own hands empty. "Happy now?"
"Ecstatic." Emiel replied.
"Well I'm taking this at least." Ragnar said and grabbed the staff from where it leaned against the wall.
**
Three metal doors, three choices with an unguessed end. Emiel studied each but could find no sign to guide his way.
"We had explored this passage." he pointed to the right-hand eastern door. "It leads up but ends in a fallen-stone blockade. It had been left uncleared when I was last here. This way, " he turned toward the western passage, "goes down and down and does not seem to have an end, none that I had ever found. I walked for half a day, I found no doors no rooms, just a spiral path that went on and on slanting down into the Oerth. This center door, " he gave it a respectful nod, " we had not found a way to open. This little key, " he patted where it rested against his heart, "it opens several doors, but not the great beast there."
The door before them had no handle, no keyhole or hinges upon its steely face, but it sat framed by a sculpted arch where winged centaurs shot dragons from a goldleaf sky and down below, demons fell to the spears of armored men upon a silver field.
"It's open now." Ragnar said with some surprise. Reaching out, as Emiel talked on, he touched the silver cat to the flat metal valve and felt its smooth withdrawal back into the room beyond. The silver head came to life for one short instance and gave a plaintive "meow!" then was silent once again.
"I don't like this." Ted said behind them, speaking up despite Emiel's command.
Ragnar was already pushing the door open and crossing the portal.
"Wait!" Emiel called to him, but the barbarian slammed the metal door full wide, it swung open and boomed against the inner wall, revealing a grand chamber that sparkled from floor to ceiling.
"Look at this!" Ragnar said as he spun in a slow circle.
All about him were scenes of epic battle. The walls were carved with strangely armored knights protecting oddly towered cities encircled by hordes of beastmen, demons, devils and monsters undreamed. The fight climbed upward till it took to the sky and across the ceiling where the winged creatures of the Oerth soared and sometimes fell entwined in a mortal embrace. The floor was a mosaic, a map, but of some enchanted kind. Armies marched and towns burned beneath Ragnar's feet, the tiles remained still but their colors changed and shifted with each passing moment.
"What a marvel, I'd love to stuff this in my pack and take it to my homeland."
Emiel stepped through with caution and eyed the edge of the now open door rather than the dweomencrafted wonder. "Ted." he gestured without looking and waved an empty hand. "You have those iron spikes, hand them to me, and get that warhammer from Ragnar's bundle."
Ted silently complied and in a moment was handing Emiel a small heavy cloth bundle that gave out a dull clank as it was jostled about. The warhammer was an awkward tool, meant to crack a skull not wedge a spike between door and frame, but Emiel made do. Gripping the door along
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