The Four- Chapter 19: Upwards, The Dark Beckons

Seraphina and Malark returned after a bit. The little halfling held the big man’s torch while he lugged a chest.

“Coins. A fair few!” Seraphina was smiling big. “And this!” She held out a large glittering stone. It shone a deep red in her hand, the flame-light sparkling off its facets.

Jarek took the stone, holding it up to study it. “A ruby, and well-cut. ‘Tis a nice find young miss!” Handing it back to her, he dropped his pack and rummaged inside. In a moment he pulled out several smaller sacks. Handing them to the others, he nodded at the chest. “Methinks we should split those coins and save the big guy the trouble of lugging that chest all over. ‘Sides, he is a good ‘un in fight. Dint want him strugglin’ with a heavy chest”

Malark set the chest down and flipped the lid open. Torch-light flickered over hundreds of silver coins. Each of them gasped at the sight. Coins a plenty for food and ale and warm beds. Now they just had to get it home. They set to task, pouring handfuls of coins into the sacks, and stashing them into packs. Before packs were overfull, they filled more sacks.

“Must be well over a thousand coins here!” Jarek was smiling gain as he filled sack after sack. “Dinnae know how we can fight so loaded down.”

“I know, Mr. Jarek! The tombs. We can stash the coins in one of the tombs. No one down here is ever going there, so they won’t disturb our coins.”

“And the Seldarine know this lot,” Adran motioned to the dead around them, “won’t be searching for their stolen treasure.”

“Stolen.” Jarek snorted. “Fair pay for a fair fight. Not a one of us is fully well. Poor lassie there,” he nodded towards Seraphina, “smells like burnt leather. And this dwarf? My clothes are ruined and I smell like a ruddy dead ox. Poisons and flames and blood and grime. Nay, laddie, we dinnae steal anything. The lassie is right, though. We kin stash the silver there and come back after we explore the rest of the caves.”

It took the party close to an hour. They hauled the coins first across two caves to where the stream passed through living rock. Getting soaked again in the stream, they carried the coins from one cave to the next. The final leg was into the Glitterhame and the stashing them in one of the unused tombs. When they were done, they spent some time resting, eating from the increasingly sparse supplies. There was wood left from the night before and a small fire cackled and sparked, taking the chill from the dark.

“Seems it is time to go up.” Seraphina was gnawing on a hardtack biscuit. “Find the orcs, then find the forge.”

“Aye, lassie. ‘Tis time.”

“Kill greenskins?” Malark was covered in small cuts and bruises. Yet he perked up when he heard the word ‘orc’.

“I don’t see how we won’t.” Seraphina giggled. “You and orc-slaying. You make me laugh.”

“Orcs bad. Kill them all.”

“See?” Jarek looked at Adran. “The big guy gets it. ‘Tis the only way.”

“Asking a man raised by wolves and taught by dwarves if orcs are bad is no stretch.” Adran shook his head, but a slight smile touched his face for a moment.

“Something funny, elf?” Jarek was staring.

“No, Jarek. Nothing funny. Just the idea of discussing if orcs are bad with an orc-hater seems a bit…”

“Silly?” Seraphina was giggling again. “Like asking a hin if food is worth stockpiling?”

“Or asking Lia if she likes fire?”

“Hey! Don’t drag me into your discussion! Well, I do like fire.” She laughed and flicked little flames off her fingertips.

“Or askin’ a dwarf if he likes ale and mead?”

“Exactly. There is no room for discussion or debate.”

“Well,” Jarek had his pipe out and was packing the bowl, “Some things are just true. T’ need for discussion is a long time gone.”

“Still a bit silly to wonder then, no?” Seraphina was biting her lip and shaking her head, stifling another laugh.

“Nay, lassie, some folk need reminders.” Jarek lit his pipe and took a long pull. “Orcs will always be bad. Less their own god is struck down and for some reasons they take to worshippin’ some other gods.”

“Not likely.” Lia was up and stretching. She picked up her crossbow and patted her quiver. “Also unlikely we will leave this cold and damp without killing at least one orc, so I say we head up.” She headed out of the cave and they could hear her splash through the stream just out of sight. Malark hopped up and chased after her, ever eager to fight. The others gathered their weapons and gear and followed soon after. They caught up to the pair as they inspected a set of rough-hewn steps climbing along one wall of the cave. The ceiling was lost in darkness far above, and the stairs disappeared into a black void.

“Up to the Door.” Jarek was the first to go, stepping onto the stairs and beginning to quickly climb.

The others followed close behind, the narrow shelf forcing them into a single file line. Some ways up they crossed another narrow stream cutting into the rock. Lia inspected the stream and looked down the narrow cleft it followed. A curious buzzing could be heard from somewhere in the distance.

“Up or along that way?” she indicated with a nod.

“Stream is tumbling down. Probably curves back on itself down below. Same one we splashed through before the stairs.” Jarek replied without looking back. No one offered another option so they continued up.

The cleft the stairs followed gradually became wider until the shallow steps were a broad stair climbing into a large chamber. Malark’s torch cast flickering light that caused the walls to dance in and out of shadow. It took a moment to realize the walls were covered in monumental carvings of dwarf forge-workers in various scenes. The ceiling soared above them into a vaulted arch. Reaching the top of the stair, they saw a pair of doors at either end of the rectangular chamber. A ledge circled the natural opening the stairs descended through to the Glitterhame below. Near the north door several skeletons lay scattered on the floor. Jarek pointed to the doors and smiled at Seraphina, mouthing the words ‘north’.  The curious buzzing could be heard here as well, slightly louder.

Inspecting the skeletons, Lia knelt near one and picked up an axe head. It was rust-covered and bore no remains of whatever haft it once had. Rusted armor pieces lay around the skeleton, any connecting straps long gone. Picking up the tusked skull, she cocked her head in concentration, long hair falling around her face.

Jarek had moved towards a set of iron bars blocking exit from the chamber. Adran was inspecting some of the carvings near the north wall. Malark had kicked one of the skulls and was moving towards the large north doors. Seraphina stood close to Lia, scanning the wall, then looking up. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to warn the others. Before she could, Lia hopped up, tossing the axe head and skull aside.

“Malark! Stay back! The doors!” Her warning was lost in a flutter of leathery wings.

Seraphina finished hers, “Creatures!” With a shwwick her blades were out and up.

The others reacted more slowly, the buzzing and flapping causing them to look around before looking up.

Adran drew and fired an arrow, catching one clean, sending it into a tumble. The others fluttered and soared, flying around the chamber. Lia sent a bolt of flame into the air, missing her target. Malark batted at one that fluttered around him. Seraphina sliced one apart, but in attacking one, another clung to her back. She screamed when it plunged a thin probiscis into her skin. She turned and slapped at it, trying to brush it off. Jarek set his hammer aside and grabbed at the diminutive halfling, hands grasping as she turned and shook.

“Hold still, lassie!” he tried grabbing her to stop her wild turns.

With the beasts fluttering around the rest, Adran couldn’t take a shot with his bow and slung it, drawing a slender dagger. Malark continued to swing torch and axe in wild, wide arcs, batting at the little creatures. Lia, seeing the dagger in Adran’s hand, drew one of her own. She poked and stabbed, trying to catch the little flying terrors.

Jarek finally grasped Seraphina with one hand, the other plucking the little biting creature from her back. The beak-like probiscis tore free causing blood to run freely. Seraphina’s hand went to her neck, fingers pressing into the bleeding wound. Jarek slammed the creature to the floor, stunning it before he stomped the life out of it.

Lia speared one of the flitting creatures, then Malark batted the other from the air. Adran stomped on it as it flopped on the chamber floor.

Searching the chamber ceiling, they looked for more. Seeing none, Jarek took Seraphina’s hand from the wound and touched two fingers while murmuring softly. His fingers glowed for a moment and when he removed them her wound was gone, the blood flow stopped.

Nodding her thanks, she rubbed her neck. “I think it was drinking my blood.” She made a face, wrinkling her nose.

“It was, lassie. Nasty little stirges love to drink blood. Like some sort of demented vampire birds.”

Lia stood in front of the north doors, facing the others. “I think these doors are trapped.”

“Do you, elf maiden?” Jarek picked up his hammer and strode forward. His eyes roved over the doors and the carvings around them. “How do ye know?”

“Those skeletons. They show signs of severe fire damage. Axe haft is gone. Armor is rusted despite this cave being quite dry. Leather burned away.”

Jarek looked back at one of the skeletons. He harrumphed a reply, then began inspecting the doors more closely. “Ye might be right. See? Those tiny holes? They are blackened and scorched.” He began inspecting the floor. “I nay see anything here. Must be the doors themselves.”

“That isn’t the only way out, we can leave it for later.” Adran was inspecting the iron bars. “This passage looks…” The bars had straw bundles and bundles of cloth jammed between the bars forming a barricade of sorts. “This is strange. It’s like…”

“Like someone didn’t want what is in here to get through?” Lia had wandered over to inspect the make-shift barricade.

“Yes, that did cross my mind.”

“Probably trying to keep these nasty stirges out.” Seraphina was frowning, still rubbing her neck. “I bet even orcs don’t like having their blood sucked out.”

“We’ve nay seen any real threat to an orc band, either. Orcs and trogs fight because they often inhabit the same places. These two tribes have separate levels to call home. I think the wee lassie is right.” Jarek shoved on some of the stuff blocking the bars. “Help me move some stuff, let’s see the other side.”

The whole party pushed and pulled, tearing the barricade apart. The bars were old, and rusted. Heavy rust encrusted the hinges and lock. Malark didn’t care. He strained and pulled, iron bars bending and distorting until the door flexed enough it opened despite the lock. The hinges screeched in protest, a piercing, grating sound. He forced the gate open enough for them to fit through. One by one they passed through the gap into a short tunnel that ended in another barricade. This one was made of boxes and crates wedged in place. They began to pull it apart as well, Carefully moving the barricade until there was space to pass through.

Once through the barricade they found themselves in a cave full of crates, sacks, bundles and barrels. Much of the area was crammed full of normal goods of all sorts. Ales in barrels and kegs. Cloth on wrapped bundles. Rope and chain coils. Sacks with smoked hams and sausages.

“Tis their plunder store.” Jarek was rifling through sacks in one of the piles. “These weedy gits steal anything they can.”

“They’ve been busy. This is more than a village worth of plunder. And we haven’t seen a village for days.”

“Aye, ‘tween Ironheim and this place there nay is much. North and west are a scattering of villages and hamlets.”

“Many folk are missing so much.” Seraphina held up some tinware plates and cups. “It we had a couple wagons we could outfit a shop with all of this.”

“But we don’t. We kin let me kinfolk know there are some supplies here. All this will get used eventually.”

They all searched through the piles, looking for anything of value. Jarek concentrated on the cave walls, looking for hidden passages or other interesting features. He whistled after a while, pulling a loose stone out and setting it aside. Reaching inside, he pulled a bulging sack out. Setting at his feet he reached in again, feeling around until he found a metal container etched with Torm’s sign, the upheld gauntlet.  He held up, studying the small flask. “Holy water?” he mused. He shrugged and tucked the flask into a pouch. He knelt and opened the large sack, revealing a horde of golden coins. He whistled again. “This is a stash!” He showed the others before tying the sack shut and stashing it in his pack.

The storage cave had three exits besides the barricaded passage they had come from. To the north was a worked stone passage the headed east and west. To the west was a narrow tunnel. A wider opening in the south was partially concealed by one of the piles of looted goods. Malark was poking around that pile when he headed through the narrow space. Seraphina sighed and ran after him, calling back to the others.

“The big guy is wandering!”

The others quickly followed, finding themselves in a narrow passageway the was vaguely Y-shaped. The arms of the shape went southeast or southeast and Malark was already going east. They didn’t go far, forced to single file by the narrowness of the passage. It seemed to a be a natural passage with tool marks here and there marking where occupants had widened the narrowest parts. Malark stopped at a wall covered in crude drawings and glyphs.

“Your mother shaves her beard?” Jarek spat and growled. “Legless dwarves are the best stunties.”

“What are you saying, Mr. Jarek?” Seraphina couldn’t see much around the others.

“Some fool orc has scribbled all over the rock. Hex glyphs and curses in their foul tongue.” He pushed past Malark and put his hand to the rock, fingers deftly probing and pulling. He was murmuring to himself. After a couple moments of searching, he turned back with a grin. “Seems these nasty orcs didn’t want anyone to come through here. Pulling with his fingertips, a portion of the rock pulled away, revealing a passage beyond of carefully carved stone. Letting the others squeeze past, Jarek pulled the door shut behind them.

“No sense advertisin’ our passage, eh?” He smiled and pushed past the others

The passage zig zagged and ended at another wall. This time, the door was clearly visible in the flickering torchlight.

“Secrets revealed.” Jarek murmured before turning to the others. “Might be a fight yon these doors.” Determined looks returned his grim gaze. Adran nodded for them all, and Jarek pushed hard on the door.

Rushing through, they found themselves in a smoke-filled chamber. The walls were of worked stone, and a double door stood on one wall. A dozen or more yellowed skulls hung from frayed ropes attached to spikes hammered into the ceiling. Crude furnishings and rough sleep pallets filled the space. Candles flickered from everywhere, melted waxed puddled on tables, crates, rock and floor. An ancient orc in a dingy black robe, the hood up and concealing the wear’s face, was hunched over a table muttering and scratching when the party charged in. A trio of female orcs were surrounding the robed orc and moved to attack at a command from their leader.

Wielding wickedly serrated short swords, the trio challenged the party with snarls and feints. The robed figure waved a hand and muttered, pointing at Jarek. His eyes glazed and he dropped his hammer. Adran’s eyes widened and he hurled a dagger at the robed figure. The three orcs were fanatical, unafraid of the well-armed party. They used the cluttered room to their advantage, keeping the crude furnishings between them and the others, reaching to swipe at the party from behind cover. Adran sheathed his sword and slipped his bow over his head, grasping at his quiver. Lia fired a bolt from her crossbow, narrowly missing one of the female orcs. Malark kicked a small crate covered in candles over, trying to get at the defending orcs. He parried a sword stroke and made a quick strike the only clove air. Seraphina’s blades clattered and rang, smashing aside defensive strokes from one of the orcs and dealing a glancing blow.

The robed one pulled their hood back, revealing a crazed orc with brilliantly dyed tribal markings across their face. Continuing to mutter and make symbols with their hands, the orc grabbed a glass flask full of some black liquid from a pile of objects. The three sword-wielders began to fight with a renewed fury. Stabs and slashes found their mark, wounding Malark, Seraphina and Jarek. The wound to Jarek awoke him from a stupor, he absently looked at his hands. Then to his hammer lying on the stone floor. Growling an oath of vengeance, he smashed his fist into the face of the closest orc.

Adran let an arrow fly, narrowly missing Malark and wounding the robed orc. Seraphina dueled with her opponent, blades clanging as they both fought for advantage. Lia sent another mote of flame towards the robed orc, missing the chanting creature. Malark leapt over a pile of objects, crashing into one of the orcs and wrestling them to the ground in a flurry of punches and knee strikes. Roaring, Malark bit deep on the creature’s throat, teeth tearing flesh.

The robed figure hurled the flask, smashing it against Adran. A black, tarry liquid stuck to the elf and ignited. Adran dropped his bow and began slapping at the flames, grimacing in pain. Muttering and chanting, the robed orc made another sign. Slashing the air with its hand, a glowing, spectral spear appeared and struck at Jarek, catching and wounding the angry dwarf. He grasped at the ghostly weapon, attempting to push it away, hands touching nothing.

Malark was holding the wrist of his opponent, keeping the rusty serrated blade away. He head-butted the orc, breaking its nose and causing a gush of blood. Seraphina continued her duel with her foe, blades clattering and sparking. Knocking the orc’s blade aside with one stroke, she stabbed deep with her other blade. She used the force of the thrust to push the orc back and tripped her over a low table. As they fell Seraphina drew her free blade in a vicious slash across the orc’s throat. A gout of blood flowed freely, ending the orc’s life. Crashing down on the lifeless creature, Seraphina rolled towards the robed orc, blades up and threatening the creature.

Adran finally beat the flames out, hands blistered and red. He was gasping in pain and sank to a knee. Lia watched the robed figure pick another flask up, and charged across the room to grapple for the weapon. Jarek was backstepping away from spectral spear, trying to get close to his hammer. The spear slashed and poked keeping the dwarf on the defensive.

Adran chanted, bowing his head and making small symbols. The burns and blisters on his skin began to heal and he staggered back to his feet. Seraphina moved close to where Lia was grappling with the robed orc. Igniting a ball of flames in her hand, Lia distracted the orc and Seraphina stabbed her twin blades deep, tips protruding from its chest. Groaning, the creature’s legs went weak and it collapsed. The spectral spear winked out in the moment the orc died.

The two remaining orcs showed no signs of attempting to flee, instead they redoubled their attacks. The one beneath Malark tried to gore him with her tusks. Malark threw himself aside, barely missing the slashing teeth. Rolling over, it slashed at Malark with a clumsy sword stroke. With Malark rolling free, Adran was free to bury an arrow in the creature’s shoulder.

Jarek finally recovered his hammer and charged the other orc, swinging a crushing blow.  Striking true, the blunt metal weapon crushed the orc’s face killing it in an instant.

Malark blocked a flurry of blows from the wounded orc. His axe deflected each strike, but the effort kept him from being able to strike back. With the other orcs dead, though, his fellows could aid him now. To her credit, the orc never wavered, fighting to the death. Surrounding the creature, they cut it down.

Exhausted from their third fight in a matter of hours, they all flopped to the ground when the battle was over. Sprawled out, the party took a moment to breathe. Rooting in packs or tugging them free from where they lay lodged, they pulled out waterskins and sipped at cool water.

“Those four were some tough blighters.” Jarek finally broke the silence.

“You got to kill some greenskins Malark. Happy now?”

“Kill one. Need to kill more.”

“I think there will be plenty. We’ve only seen in three rooms so far.”

“We need to rest a bit, I think. Seems like all of us are hurting.” Adran was sitting up now, appraising the others.

“I’m pretty spent.” Lia flicked little balls of flames off her fingertips. “Though I’ll always have a bit of fire.”

“Any of ye really hurtin’?” Jarek sat up. “I kin heal you right quick. Though I feel me power fadin’, too.”

“Tough fights. Plenty of foes.” Adran was looking at Jarek. Not looking, more like staring. Jarek saw his look and met it.

“An we found a fair bit ‘o coin. Been worth the fight. Not much longer. We’ll drive these orcs out yet.” He got up and shrugged his pack off. Digging in it, he produced a couple of metal spikes. Moving back to the door into this room he pushed it closed. Setting the spikes under the door, he tapped them in place with deft hammer blows. Finished with the secret door, he went to the main doors and repeated the procedure, setting two spikes per door.

“That oughta keep those doors shut. We kin relax for a bit.” He wandered around the small room before settling down, leaning against a wall. “Not fer too long, though. That thing,” he nodded towards the robed corpse, “is some sorta shaman. Don’t want to be here if the clan chief comes for a séance or some nonsense, but we need to rest a bit.”

“We need real sleep. Not these little breaks.”

“We cannae risk it. Without a strong, iron door tween us and them orcs, we cannae risk it. Take a quick break, laddie, and we kin be off.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, I think he is right. This room has too many doors, and those big doors are only wood. If they want to, they could chop through them.”

“Plus, we could be trapped here. They must know about that passage. We gotta keep moving.”

They spent a restless hour, picking at rations and ignoring one another. Days without good sleep was starting to take a toll. Tempers were starting to shorten. Malark stoned his axe, honing the blade as best he could. Seraphina and Lia searched the mess for anything of value. They found two sacks of silver coins, and a pair of bottles like the one she had hurled at Adran. Lia claimed both bottles, and they split the load of coins between the five of them.

“If we aren’t going to sleep, we should probably go.” Adran was up, bow in hand.

Jarek was pulling his pack straps tight, and picked up his hammer. “Aye, laddie, we should.” He walked to the concealed door and knocked the wedges loose, picking them up and stashing them. “There were several passages off that main cave. Easiest to go back this way.”

He pushed the door open slowly, looking down the passage before fully opening the door. “Looks clear.”

Moving quietly down the narrow tunnel, they remerged in the narrow cave with the graffiti scrawled all over the rock. Jarek spit on the crude letters when he passed them. In the main cave they gathered in the middle, looking at their options.

Lia pointed as she listed their options; “Narrow one, narrow two, carved passage?”

“Which way in the carved tunnel?” Seraphina nodded. “Right or left?”

Jarek was the first to speak. “The narrow tunnel behind us. Dint want any orcs sneakin’ up on us.”

Adran turned back, heading towards the tunnel. “I smell smoke this way.”

“Aye, smoke and meat. Like a cookin’ fire.”

“Where there is fire…”

*Again, the art isn’t perfect. I’ve tried 3 AI generators now, and none do everything right or the way I want. I’m learning some tricks, but I am no there yet. Hope it adds to to the story, rather than detracting from it.