SC, Book One: Life's Bazaar, Chapter Thirteen: Forge

[eilonwyg]

           “I don’t think we’re in the fortress anymore,” Ayame said as she gazed around.

What lay before them was far more vast than any room inside either complex so far. Behind them, they saw the double doors they’d come through, with the malachite stone of the fortress spreading out in both directions before reaching common gray granite rock. Before them a stone bridge arched across a wide chasm. Thirty feet below lay a pool of still black water. Above rose a vaulted ceiling of more uncarved rock. Across the chasm, a wide tunnel at the back of the cold, dark cavern sloped downward into the darkness. A small forest of stalagmites sprouted from the uneven floor.

“I have to agree,” Nardakk said, his gaze also searching the natural cavern.

It was eerily quiet, as if the tunnel sucked all the noise from the area into the darkness.

“Helloooooo!” Dip called into the blackness, cupping his hands around his mouth. He beamed when he heard the slight echo bouncing off the rock in the distance. Zip slapped him in the shoulder.

“Do you want to alert whatever’s out there that we’re here?”

Dip cringed. “Oops, sorry.”

Shiore stared into the shadows of the tunnel, craning her neck as if it would help her see beyond the inky night. “I wonder what’s out there…”

Dip beamed. He knew there was a reason why he liked this girl. She had the same sense of curiosity that he did. He took hold of her hand. “We should find out!”

“What about the children?” Nardakk asked. He shifted his gaze between the double doors and the cavern tunnel. “Do we think they could be kept down there?”

Ayame shrugged. “They did bar the door for a reason.”

Zip’s eyes roamed the malachite walls of the fortress. “We do kind of seem to be out of the hold, though.”

“It could end in a small cave back there,” Dip suggested. “We won’t know until we take a look.” Plus, Dip itched to see what secrets the darkness hit in the recesses of the tunnel. Then again, there was that secret hallway of Nardakk’s. That just screamed to be explored as well. “But we can go back and try that secret hall.”

“I think,” Shiore said, “we might at least take a look as to where this goes first. Even if this leaves the Malachite Fortress behind us, that hobgoblin either went for reinforcements or is waiting with his friends in ambush. They won’t expect us to go away from them. If we take just a little time to explore, we can hopefully make them believe we’ve left and maybe they’ll lower their guard again.”

Zip nodded, his gaze locked on the tunnel across the chasm. Dip grinned; his brother couldn’t fool him. He’d been just as curious. “That makes sense.”

With Dip and Shiore in the lead, they crossed the bridge and descended into the sloping tunnel. And descended. And descended. And descended. Dip had the feeling they would keep walking until they popped up on the other side of the world. Or maybe walk into a hellish dimension with fiery demons. Looking around all he saw was cold rock, stalactites, stalagmites, and columns, and occasionally a distant soft plink of a water droplet falling into a dark pool unseen. If there was a fiery realm before them, it certainly didn’t look like it. It was disappointing.

In any case, Dip was bored. Bored, bored, bored. For a mysterious tunnel hidden below the surface, it was devoid of anything interesting. He would have gladly preferred an ambush at this point to this dreary dark. He kicked a loose stone with his toe, sending it back to the shadows.

Their tunnel did lead to several branches, labyrinthine off shoot caverns with confusing forests of columns. It didn’t take much to realize that if they tried any of these paths, they could easily get horribly lost in here.

“And who knows what could be waiting… hungry…” Ayame shivered.

Dip’s stomach rumbled. “That would be me.” Ayame giggled.

They decided to rest and have their midday meal. With frustration, they turned around, heading back to the fortress. Everything was as they left things during their several hour detour. The front door, as that was what Dip imagined it must be, stood open a crack and had not been barred. Inside laid the bodies of three dead hobgoblins. Apparently their friends had not come to collect them.

The secret passage they’d come in from had closed, but Dip knew it would have without something stopping it. Hopefully it won’t take too long to find it again.

“I don’t know if the hobgoblins still are laying in wait for us,” Shiore began, “but I think it would be safer to check out that other hallway first.”

Ayame nodded. “If they’re planning an ambush, or even just beefed up security, better to go around and catch them at their backs.”

That had been Dip’s vote all along and he enthusiastically seconded the motion. Everyone else agreed. Once again, Dip positioned himself at the front, although thankfully the passage was much larger than that of the dug tunnels of Jzadirune. He had the pleasure of walking with Shiore again. Every time he saw the blond streak in her hair, he shivered with excitement and remembered how she had accepted his proposal. What should we do on our first date? He contemplated the idea of a private dinner. A pleasant smile tugged at his lips.

The smile turned to a frown as the passage rounded the corner and ended in blank wall after another thirty feet. Dip scrunched up the muscles in his face, highly befuddled. “Why would someone build a secret tunnel?”

Wrast silently passed the kender warrior, Zip close behind him. “They wouldn’t,” his older twin said sagely.

Dip watched them approach the wall and dawn illuminated his mind. “Oh. Right.”

Wrast slid his hands over the wall, occasionally pressing his ear to the stone, listening. Zip let his eyes roam, hands softly pressed against the wall, though they more followed the movements of the elf warrior than searched for a secret door. Eventually, Wrast’s hands pressed one section of wall and part of the wall cracked open. Dip felt the zing of excitement, eager to discover what lay beyond.

At the sight of the next room, his blood quickened. A smile formed. Now that’s what I’m talking about! Dozens of forged weapons were neatly arrayed on four wrought iron weapon racks standing in the middle of the floor. Short spears and throwing axes, hand axes, battle axes, picks and war hammers and a great ax with a beautiful handle carved by a master, although most of these were a bit on the larger side than Dip would have liked. If this place had indeed been built by the dwarves as Zip had suggested, than these weapons were more dwarf sized. Pushed against the left wall were two tables covered with suits of armor - two chain shirts, two suits of banded mail, a suit of half place, and two spiked gauntlets. Disappointingly, they seemed dwarf sized as well.

Dip roamed the tables and weapon racks, sizing up the equipment. The kender warrior wore studded leather himself, along with leg and arm guards, also in leather, as he wasn’t willing to lose a sizeable chunk of his dexterity to gain more protection. He may not have been as quick as his twin, but he was still fast and preferred to stay that way. The armor, besides not fitting him, would have hindered his movements far beyond his liking. Although the spiked gauntlets would have been fun had he been much of a brawler.

The weapons, on the other hand, held promise. Dip let his gaze linger on each of them, brushing a tender hand across the metal blades. They had all been well made. It was a shame that for the most part they held only one purpose in their construction - death. Dip usually preferred his tools to have multiple purposes. As were most kender weapons, Dip’s sithak could be a polearm weapon, a spear, a staff, a bow, but it also had the ability to spear high hanging fruit from trees, stuck in the ground to be used as a sundial, and also used as a stringed instrument. Weapons forged by other races tended to be created for battle only. It was a shame; so few races had the creativity and adaptability as the kender race. Dwarves, in particular, had little ability to think outside the box. In Dip’s experience, except for the busty dwarf captain, Genevieve, they seemed to be a decidedly dour race.

But the smaller axes held promise. Dip took a hand ax and two throwing axes. They could at least be used to chop wood as well as a leg. Plus, it might be fun to use the throwing axes at town fairs.

Nardakk collected the short spears and with strips of leather created a mock quiver for them. He slung it onto his back. “You can never have enough spears when you throw them,” he added with a crooked grin. Dip smiled back. More and more, the kender found he liked the orc shaman - he had an interesting sense of humor.

Shiore hoisted the great ax from the rack and checked its weight. Taking a few practice swings, she nodded, pleased with the balance. “This one was fantastically wrought.”

Dip agreed. “It’s got a great design on the hilt, too. It suits you.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him and shrugged. “Figured I could use a second weapon.” A strand of her dark hair swept across her face as she stared down at her new weapon with pride. Dip had the sudden urge to brush that strand behind her ear, to feel her skin under his fingertips. There was something about the way she gazed lovingly at her great ax that made Dip want to kiss her…

“So is this it?” Ayame spoke up, interrupting what might have been a “moment” between him and Shiore. He shot a glare at Ayame, although the winged girl was too busy eyeing the room to notice. She spread her arms to encompass the whole room. “This is where that secret passage ended?”

Dip looked around. The door they had come to had shut on its own, melding back into the face of the wall. To the untrained eye, the room they stood in appeared to have absolutely no exits. If he hadn’t known they had come in through a door, Dip might have assumed the walls had been built up around them. Obviously there was a way out, but as he spun around in a circled, taking in the four walls, he suddenly couldn’t remember which direction they’d entered from. He narrowed it down to the two longer walls, but he was suddenly unsure which of them it had been. Surely someone knows… Probably Zip.

The girl spoke again in Elven, presumably to explain her words to Wrast. The elf responded, a knot forming in his brow as he pondered. He then made what sounded like to Dip some kind of announcement and proceeded to one of the two long walls. Dip frowned, not sure which wall it was, having gotten so turned around while studying the weapons. Wait, the table to armor had been to the left, yes? By process of elimination, that meant Wrast was searching the wall opposite the one they’d entered.

“Wrast thinks there could be another secret door out,” Zip explained. Dip must have looked either more confused than he thought, or his brother was translating just out of habit. Either way, he was appreciative, and it at least confirmed what he suspected.

“Do you think there is one?”

Zip shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised, honestly. It’s just an odd design choice if there isn’t. A hidden room connected by a hidden passage? Especially as it’s only accessible from a rather strange starting location? No, it would make more sense if the dwarves had this built as a hidden place to gear up should the fortress be invaded, then spring on their enemies unexpectedly.”

“Makes sense.”

Wrast’s face lit up, and he turned to the group, saying something to them. Zip grinned. “He found a door,” he translated. “He doesn’t hear anything beyond, though.”

“Not surprising.” None of the secret doors seemed to have anything heard through. Malachite must be soundproof, Dip thought.

Zip left his brother to join Wrast at the secret door. Dip readied his sithak as he and his friends gathered around Wrast and Zip. He noticed his friends readying their own weapons, Ayame’s wings fluttering in preparation to add air strike to their attacks. After the other secret door opened upon guarding hobgoblins, they certainly weren’t going to chance that this door held no one within like this room had.

The first thing Dip noticed upon the door’s opening was the sound of hammers striking metal. After the near soundproofing of the previous room, the sudden noise came like an explosion of sound. In addition to the hammers, the crackle of a large flame added both a deafening din and illuminated the room beyond. As well as creating a sweltering heat and a nose searing smell.

The smithy, as the room obviously was, was unpleasantly warm and filled with the stench of hot metal and ash. Even still in the doorway, Dip could feel a beat of sweat trickle down his neck. A blazing forge dominated the left wall, flanked by malachite caryatids depicting dwarven metalsmiths. In front of the hearth rested a ten foot wide, twenty foot long slab of gray stone surmounted by two black anvils. Barrels of water and metalsmithing tools rested nearby.

Two cylindrical iron cages, exactly like the ones Dip had played with back in the first hall, dangled from the ceiling by iron chains. These, however, were not empty as before, and were an additional source of light in accompaniment with the forge. Giant fire beetles were locked within them and they shed a lurid orange glow. And from what Dip could tell, they were not happy about their imprisonment.

They were not the only creatures within the room, however. Atop the slab, a female dwarf and three goblins hammered away at a pair of newly forged javelins while two Halflings, male and female, sat on the floor nearby, linking together tiny chains for what looked like would ultimately become a suit of armor. As Dip studied the scene more closely, he saw the dwarf and Halflings had manacles binding their ankles.

Four hobgoblins surveyed the progress. They, and the rest of the inhabitants, turned to them as the door creaked open. From the way their mouths hung open, Dip had the feeling they hadn’t known the secret door had been hidden right under their noses. Explained why the hobgoblin and his friends would wait to ambush them rather than chase after them. After all, if they believed there was only one way for them to go…

The goblinoids, especially the hobgoblins, were quick to recover from their surprise. The supervisors readied their weapons, broadswords, and faced the intruders.

Shiore didn’t even wait for them to recover enough to charge at them. “Surrender!” She made a mad dash for the stone slab, passing one of the guarding hobgoblins, who watched her ignore him with what Dip thought was a rather comical face of absolute infuriating bewilderment. She swiped at the closest goblin with her new great ax. The goblin only barely stumbled back with enough time to avoid a death blow, surprised at being the first to be targeted. Instead he only received a decent slash across the chest.

By now, all three prisoners stared at the crazed, ax wielding elf girl with a mixture of amazement, bewilderment, and a touch of fear, based on the constipated look Dip often associated with other races’ expression of the unknown emotion. “Sondor,” she called to the dwarf woman, who started, as if she’d been in a daze. “Maple.” The Halfling woman’s face broke into a lopsided grin and gripped the handle on her forging mallet tightly, her teeth glistening in the firelight. “Callum?” she called to the male Halfling. The Halfling seemed to have curled in on himself and didn’t acknowledge her presence. “Jeneer?” At this the Halfling looked up at her, and even from this distance, Dip could see the dark circles around his eyes and the short intakes of breath he took.

As Shiore determined the identity of the prisoners, Wrast leaped into the room after his sister. Once again, the hobgoblin nearest the door was ignored for the stone stab at the center of the room. The quiet fuming became a raging fit and he spat out something in Goblinoid, the fact that he’d not once, but twice, been ignored as apparently insignificant seemingly infuriating him. Dip couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the creature’s indignation.

He took two steps toward avenging his dignity and showing his enemies the error of their ways, when a sword slid neatly through his abdomen, stabbing through possibly guts and a kidney on its way back out. The look of surprise on his face was priceless. Dip cheered Ayame, bravely standing before the hobgoblin and looking rather badass with her longsword sticking out of his belly. Zip took up the cheer beside him, and as one they turned their merriment into a battle cry, once again wading into battle as a single entity. They joined Ayame as Nardakk stormed passed to slam onto the slab with Wrast and Shiore.

The battle became a free for all, as the hobgoblins and goblins raced to tackle their intruders. Dip whipped his sithak in a circle, dancing around the stunned hobgoblin, while Zip went for the jailor’s knees. In swift succession, they managed to put the creature off balance enough for the finishing blow to strike, a combination of his, Zip’s and Ayame’s, and left him lying in a pool of his own blood, dead. With grim grins, the twins dashed off to strike at the next incoming hobgoblin.

With so many enemies, it was hard to keep track of where anyone else was during the course of the battle. He knew Wrast, Shiore and Nardakk clashed with the goblins and hobgoblins by the forge. The Halfling Shiore called Maple had grabbed a hot poker from the furnace and Dip caught flashes of her brandishing it as she would a rapier. Meanwhile, Nona seemed to be protecting the other two in a corner away from the battle.

Crimson shot into the air as Ayame launched herself with her wings away from her opponent only to dive in again, playing cat and mouse with the hobgoblin. It was a fairly ingenious battle strategy. Like the twins, she engaged her foe away from the main skirmish, making sure to keep no enemy behind her. Her goal seemed to be the same as the boys - crowd control.

Taunting their foe into a crazed bloodlust, the brothers danced around their enemy, two bodies but one entity, fighting as if they had one mind. Never did they stand still, not once did they give their foe the chance to take a swipe at them. Dip hadn’t been alert enough to keep his brother from being wounded the day before and he’d be damned if he’d let that happen again. Although both sported a few cuts and bruises from minor grazes, neither had been touched by the hobgoblin’s weapon. Their form was perfect.

Zip slid forward on his knees, leaning back until his head nearly touched the floor and stabbed up with the spike of his yothak as he passed through the hobgoblin’s legs. When the hobgoblin clutched at his wound, Dip swung his sithak, connecting with his chest, breaking ribs with a sickening crunch. One must have snapped and lodged itself in the creature’s heart or lungs as he coughed up blood flecked with bubbles and sank to his knees, wheezing and fighting for air, but it was futile. Dip pushed him backward with the sole of his boot and he fell onto his back, dead. The twins hardly gave him a second thought as they picked off another hobgoblin from the group around the elves and orc, drawing him away to be the next to die by their team effort.

At last their enemies were sent to their deaths. When Dip looked up from his and Zip’s kill, he saw Ayame had finished hers and several goblins sprawled on the ground, one of them with part of his head removed and blood flooding the area around the slab, like some kind of red lake with the slab as an island.

One hobgoblin remained. He stood between the twins and the slab of death. Taking one look at the carnage around the elves and orc, he made to turn and run, but found himself surrounded by the kender and Ayame. His eyes widened, seeing his inevitable death.

“Surrender,” Shiore demanded. Nardakk translated in the Goblinoid tongue. The hobgoblin quickly released his weapon, letting the blade clatter to the floor, the sound ringing out the creature’s defeat.