The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga - 2020 - Part 17

The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga - Part 17

"What does that tell you?" asked Harald. The ranger bristled with impatience.

"Look, the wire is frosted near the end where I held it to the mist," Ivo held the piece of enchanted silver in his hand and waved it toward the ranger. "But further on it is merely cold to the touch. It tells me a little tale; listen and I will tell it to you."

"Sorry Ivo," Harald apologized, "I'm just worried about Talberth."

"I'm worried myself," said Ivo. "The mist looks no more than half a foot thick, the frost on the wire goes no further. The wire was not destroyed; it was not yanked from my hand, as it might be if magic had transported it. It is not bent, so no trap was triggered by it passing through the mist."

"That is no test for traps," the thief spoke up.

"No Harold, but what else do you suggest?" asked Ivo.

"Use that sword of yours," he said to the ranger. "Let it drag across the ground. See if there is a floor beyond that smoke, we could take a step and end up falling down a shaft like the one we saw back in the room of statues."

Harald drew the long blade and stared at it for a moment; he hated to use the blade in such a way.

"I don't think it will break," the thief said sarcastically.

"All right, I'll give it a try," Harald said, but he was reluctant and moved with excessive care.

"I thought you were in a hurry," Harold complained.

The ranger held out his claymore, the hilt in both his hands and let it slide across the edges of the mist along the frame. He felt a firm resistance and the blade ground against some unseen surface beyond the smoke-filled portal, but he could hear nothing from the other side. Using the strength of his arms and shoulders he pushed hard against the ceiling, the walls and the floor, but there was no result. Nothing gave, no trap opened up beneath the blade, only the feel of something that stopped the point from moving further and a growing cold which chilled the metal of the sword. "There is nothing," Harald said then the ranger stepped into the mist and disappeared.

"Wait!" Ivo and Harold called out together. The thief grabbed for the ranger and passed through the mist close on his heels.

"Hey!" Little Rat shouted. The young orc followed Harold without a moment's hesitation.

Ivo still held the silver wire in his hand. He looked at the mist filled gate for a moment then carefully bent the wire into four even lengths and slipped it into his pack, then stepped into the mist.

* * *

Chilling cold reached for him but Harald brushed it aside and stepped through the mist. It had only been the lightest touch then he found himself standing in the dark. The ranger stopped and tried to sense the room around him. There was a different feel then what he had expected. Through the mist his sword had pressed against some obstruction to the right and left, he shifted the claymore so that the blade swung to either side but met no resistance. Harald stepped back and as his foot slid across the stone floor something collided with his leg. It squeaked out with alarm and sent the ranger jumping forward in surprise.

"It's me! It's me," the halfling thief cried out.

"Curse it Harold," exclaimed the ranger. "You're lucky I didn't cut you in half!"

"What're you stan..." Harold began to say but Little Rat came leaping through the mist and knocked him down.

* * *

"...iiing!" Harold's word became a loud screech as he was knocked over and tumbled across the floor.

Little Rat scrambled to keep on his feet, bouncing back from the impact with the small but stout halfling that nearly sent him through the mist again. He steadied himself, a wave of cold passed across his backside which was partly through the smoke-filled portal. "Yiii," he shrieked, echoing Harold's yell.

"Stop playing around!" the ranger called out. "I can't see a thing, where is the light!"

"Ivo has the light," Harold grumbled. He had turned the tumble into a roll and came up facing the door.

"That's good," said the ranger, "I'm the one who needs it."

"It's your own fault," Harold told him. He turned around to face his friend and felt Little Rat grab him by the shoulder. "What?"

"Look!" the young orc pointed, his arm brushing past the halfling's nose.

"That's Harald," said the halfling, "what's the matter with you."

"No!" Little Rat pointed harder, his arm shaking, his finger jabbing at the space around the ranger Harald's side. The halfling leaned toward the side and crooked his neck, Harold's eyes widened as he caught sight of the creatures that Little Rat pointed a shaking finger at. The room was unlit except for a soft glow coming from the misty door but the halfling and the orc could see, their kind had eyes meant for the seeing in the dark. Old wooden frames that might once have been beds littered the room, the remains of tables, chairs, a row of shelves smashed down the center but their corners still hanging from the sides, and rising amid the debris were bones. A skull sat on a spine without ribs or arms, but it bent and brushed itself across a loose pile of yellow-ivory sticks. Like iron filings jumping to a loadstone, the bones joined with the spine. It shook like a wet dog and its ribcage clicked into place. As Harold watched at least six skeletons formed and began to clack toward them on their fleshless toes and heels. The ranger heard the noise and turned his head so that one ear was directed toward the sound.

"Harald! Behind you!" Harold shouted at his friend.

"What is there!?" the ranger brought up his sword so that the long blade waved back and forth, higher than the halfling's head. The point thunked into a skeletal chest, but Harald had put no force behind the blow and the point skittered over the monster breast bone and passed harmlessly between its ribs.

"Skeletons!" Harold exclaimed. "Hit it! You just poked one with your sword."

"Keep down," the ranger brought his claymore over his shoulder and swung the blade like a scythe. It struck a skeleton that leapt forward, the edge cut through its spine like a stalk of wheat, severed a boney arm on its way out and then the blade came up high over Harald's other shoulder. The fleshless legs and waist clattered to the ground, but the torso pulled itself toward the ranger, one hand reaching out; the stump of an arm scraping on the stones.

"Got one!" shouted Harold. "Only another five to go."

"I can't see them," the ranger said, "tell me when to..."

"Now!" Harold shouted as two more skeletons came within the reach of the ranger's sword. 

***

Bones shattered, the edge of the sword cut cleanly through an arm but the ribs broke against steel as the blade passed through. The skeleton's spine was severed high where its heart might have been; a shoulder blade spun away like a disk and the joint where its other arm pivoted back and forth split in two, the knob of bone and length of arm fell to the floor. Another skeleton was a step behind the first. It walked into the sword's path as it swung up from the ruin of the first, the tip lodging in its skull tearing the head free from the neck. Yellow teeth gnawed at the metal of the blade, the skull became a ghastly trophy at the end of Harald's sword. Both bodies fell to pieces and rattled upon the stones as they came crashing down. Whatever force animating them was severed by Harald's scything blade just as the bones of spine, shoulder and arm had been.

"Are there more?" bellowed the ranger.

"Yes! Yes!" shouted Harold. The thief ran forward, his small sword drawn, Little Rat pulled two smaller blades from hide sheaths he'd made from a wolf's pelt and attached to the old rope he used as a belt.

"Where?" the ranger swung his blade but this time through empty air. "I need light!"

"There is one about ten feet to your right," Harold called to him. "The left, the other two are on your left, they're near!"

The ranger turned the blade to the right, but at the halfling's word he brought it swinging to the left. The ranger clipped a wooden frame and thinking that he'd hit a skeleton, Harald drew the sword back and struck with all his strength. The ancient wood splintered, the frame flipped over and cracked apart, old cloth shredding into fragments billowing out in a cloud of dust. The corner post that formed a headboard broke away, one half sailing through the air. Teeth shattered from the still animated skull, it bounced from a wall only a moment after the broken post.

"You hit a bed!" Harold yelled at him.

"Hells, get me some light!" the ranger cursed.

"To the right!" yelled Harold. "No, the left!"

"Make up your mind!" grumbled the ranger.

A skeleton leapt over the heap of broken wood, it collided with the ranger as he tried to bring his sword around. Its bones were light; it had no flesh to add weight to its attack. The ranger's arm and shoulder knocked it hard and threw it back into the fragments of the bed. Bony hands closed on the ranger's arm, he could not bring his blade against it while it grappled him. From the left another skeleton clutched him by the throat, its fingers like a fist of branches, sharp ends gouging into skin. One handed the ranger used the pommel of his sword to beat away the strangling grasp. He spun and lifted both skeletons from their feet but he could not break their grip. The pommel was a poor weapon used blindly in the dark.

"Get them off me," the ranger gasped, but the halfling and the orc could do nothing while they shook clutching to both throat and arm.

"Stop twisting!" Harold shifted trying to find a place to strike a boney leg or hip without cutting the ranger as well. There was a solid crack, the metal pommel had connected and broke a skull like the shell of a hollow egg. Clawing fingers dropped from the ranger's throat, the skeleton fell apart like a puppet with its strings and bindings cut.

* * *

Dust began to billow, the shattered bedframe shook; loose pieces of wood fell from the rising bones. With unnatural strength it tore a three foot length of board from the pile of debris. The skeleton brought up its makeshift club and advanced on the ranger who struggled blindly in the dark. A blade gouged into its shin, a second hacked into its thigh and carved out a divot of bone. Little Rat howled out a challenge and tore into the skeleton with a flurry of blows. The boney horror stared down with empty sockets, it swung the length of wood, but Little Rat ducked beneath the blow. He sidestepped and brought his dagger skimming along the outstretched arm shaving off a curl, whittling the skeleton down with every stroke.

The ranger heard the young orc howl, he knew where the sound had come from but he could see nothing. One skeleton still clasped his arm, it clawed at him, finger bones digging into the sleeve of his shirt, each digit strong as a metal clamp. He could feel the flesh bruise, mashed beneath the crushing strength. The skeleton rattled, he shook it like a housemaid would shake the dust from a carpet, but he could not shake it loose. A flash of light lit the room, the beams swayed to the right then toward the ranger.

Ivo had come through the misty portal, the enchanted torch casting its rays into the room. Little Rat squealed, he brought up an arm to protect his eyes but the skeleton was unaffected by the sudden illumination. The board came down and this time struck the small orc squarely atop the head. There was a crack, part of the wood snapped off and a line of blood seeped from Little Rat's lank hair. Harold ducked his head, he'd been slashing at the skeleton that grabbed the ranger's arm and as he did he caught a glimpse of the light that shone from Ivo's torch. The edge of his knife opened a foot long gash in the ranger's cloak, he'd try to pull his blow, only luck or the hand of fate kept him from doing the same to the ranger's leg as he did to the cloak.

"What's this?" Ivo said, startled as he walked into a fight. A pair of skeletal feet slapped across Harold's face, Little Rat growled and waved his knives but the skeleton with the wooden board struck him again. The ranger managed to shift his sword from one hand to the other and now that he could see, he deftly smashed in the skull of the skeleton hanging on his arm. Everything happened at once before Ivo could do more than blink. Blood was pouring from Little Rat's head; he staggered like a drunk on a three day binge, but managed to lash out with his knives. The blades no more than scratched the monster's bones. It raised its board again for a vicious stroke but there was a shriek of steel as a blade sliced through the air. There was a glint of metal, a dark shape passed above the young orc's head and the skeleton was gone. Arms, chest and spine were chopped cleanly through and flung back against the wall. The last of the skeletons was destroyed. The ranger's head twisted back and forth looking for another foe and Little Rat sat on the ground holding his bleeding head between his hands.

"Here is your light," Harold said to the ranger, nodding toward the gnome.

"Next time you're going through the door first," the ranger said to Ivo.

"Next time you'll take the light with you," Ivo told him. 

***

"Harold, build a fire," Ivo said.

"Get Harald to do it, Little Rat is hurt," replied the thief with a note of concern in his voice. The halfling wrapped a length of cloth around the young orc's head. Blood soaked through quickly and joined the drying trail down the little Rat's face.

"Oohhh!" Little Rat moaned.

"Good, you're still alive," said Harold.

"Head hurt," the small orc put both his hands to the wound, then pulled them back as if he touched a burning coal. "Ow!"

"What were you thinking," chided Harold. "Knives are next to useless against those things."

"We need to burn these bones," Ivo put his foot down on a hand that crawled across the floor like a spider. "They're pulling together like the body of a troll."

 "Ivo," Harald said, "there are no doors that I can see, just that portal. A fire might smoke us out."

Ivo broke the skeletal fingers beneath his foot and scattered the fragments of bone with a kick. "Keep an eye on the remains then or we will be fighting these creatures all over again."

"We?" Harald shook his head.

"Take the light," Ivo handed the ranger the enchanted torch, then stood by Harold and stared over the halfling's shoulder. "That looks well done."

"I've had lots of practice," Harold said, securing the bandage he had wrapped round the orc's head. "Mostly on myself," he mumbled.

"If you are done then help me search," said Ivo. "There should be another way out. You are sure that Talberth went through the door?"

"It might not matter," said Harald. The ranger bent and grabbed the largest piece of a broken skull from a pile of fragmented bone. "This room is not the one that my sword touched through the mist. I felt walls close to either side, but here," he nodded toward the swirling mist, "here the door is in the middle of that wall."

"He went through the middle door,"Harold looked up. "It looked like solid stone. Who can tell in a place like this if that door leads to this room."

"I will use a spell," said Ivo. "The same that I used before, but it will only show me where magic is active and how strong. If the doors are simply hidden we will have to find them by other means."

"I can help there," said Harold.

The thief had finished binding the young orc's wounds. Ivo gestured and spoke gnomish words of magic that the others could not make out. Slowly he pivoted in a circle and pointed with his hand, and where he pointed glowing light came forth. The skeletal bones showed as a vibrant green. They were scattered about the room, some in piles that flowed like bugs atop a carcass, others were mere fragments that lay still, too far away to join together and reform. It was the back wall of the room that reacted the strongest. From floor to ceiling, from side to side, it glowed blue, bright enough to light up the entire room.

"That's something," said Harold. "I think we have found our door."

"Before we go further in we should make sure we can get out," Harald lowered the enchanted torch he held. The glow seemed even stronger in the dark.

"If that is a door," said Ivo. He pulled the silver wire from his pack and straightened it out again. "Hold one end, I will walk through and see if this door still leads out."

* * *

"Man-Ze-O, Em-Pere!" Talberth commanded. The skeletons froze in place leaving Talberth still bound in stone manacles that floated in the air. The words of ancient Suel worked like a magic spell, whatever force controlled the animated bones recognized the old imperial tongue and obeyed. "Miz-So, Miz-So Ep-Ze" he shouted. One of the skeletons began to tremble then came apart, its bones clattered to the floor. "Hells!" Talberth cursed. "Obviously not the right command."

A breeze touched his face; it raised dust and made him sneeze. Somewhere a door had opened, from where he stood, held to the chamber wall, Talberth could see the far end of the room. At the entrance there was a figure, gray as stone but insubstantial as a cloud. It floated like the mist that seemed to form its body. The closer it came the more it appeared to be a man. Talberth could make out greater detail in the smoky haze; Arms, legs, a head with flowing hair; that was certain. It wore a cloak that billowed behind it like a flag, blown by a wind that Talberth could not feel. It had a bearded face and eyes that glowed as red as coals just stirred to life. When it was only an arm's-length away it opened its mouth, a black and empty pit, and words flowed out. The creature spoke as if from somewhere far away, its form simply a conduit that linked its spirit to this oerthly realm.

"Fe-Mos Su-El, Fe-Et Su-El," the voice wailed.

"Suel Ve-Vae," Talberth told the wraith.

"Su-El Pos-Fa-Ner Ver-Uz," the wraith replied. "Ob-Te-Em-Ro," it bowed down before Talberth and the manacles came free. The mage dropped, his arms felt like they were on fire. He hugged himself and rubbed at the muscles. A sharp pain jumped from the small of his back and between his shoulder blades.

Talberth glanced up into the burning eyes. "For-Es Mo-Nas-Tre," he intoned the dusty words. The wraith stood and turned, it waved a finger and the skeleton offered Talberth its arm. 

***

The chilling cold lasted only a fraction of a second, but Ivo shivered as if doused with an icy wave that soaked him to the bone. His hand stuck to the silver wire he held. Carefully he peeled it from the palm of his hand so that none of his flesh came away with the metal. "Back again," he said to himself.

The chamber appeared the same, two mist-filled doors, one to either side; the floor crisscrossed with lines, lengths of silver wire showing where they had risen from the cracks. Ivo was glad that the magic of the portal was playing no tricks on them. There were problems enough for a lifetime just dealing with the giants, they needed no more distractions, only a place of rest and safety. So far they had found only trouble and mysteries that they did not need and had no time to solve.

He pulled on the wire signaling the others that he was safe and about to return. A step took him into the mist, his long nose touching the swirling surface, but a voice called out and stopped him.

"Ivo!" Talberth exclaimed, surprised but very pleased.

"Talberth!" Ivo let the silver wire slip from his hand. "Where have you been?" a note of caution crept into the old gnome's voice. His fingers flexed suddenly aware that he had dropped the wire. With reflexes that belied his age Ivo snagged the silver strand just before it disappeared into the mist.

* * *

"This place is amazing," there was a childlike wonder in Talberth's voice. "Ivo, these enchantments must be from the days of the imperium."

"Evil days," Ivo said. He pulled hard on the silver wire several times and waited for a reply. Strong hands dragged at the metal strip from the other side of the mist.

"We must explore, there is so much to discover here," Talberth went on not listening to the gnome.

"That will be up to Telenstil to decide," Ivo told him. "We are not here to search ruins. Remember that Talberth. I'm going back to get the others, you stay here." Ivo looked over at the mage. Talberth had turned away, he examined the door-frame that surrounded the reddish mist as Ivo watched and did not say a word. "You're not listening. Talberth!" Ivo shouted.

"What?!" the mage spun, startled by the call, he had drawn an enchanted wand from his sleeve, quick as a back-alley thug might draw a knife and held it ready, a word of activation on his lips.

"Come here, I'm not leaving you behind," said Ivo wagging a finger at the mage. "We will go through here and collect the others."

"That is the way I went," Talberth said, "well, that is where I was thrown, but it was through there that the skeletons caught me."

"Yes, we had the same encounter," said Ivo. "Harald made short work of them."

"They should listen to me now," Talberth shook his head. "If only I'd realized what they were saying at the time. They were trying to talk, I'm not sure what they tried to say but they were speaking ancient Suel no doubt."

"They are still rattling about," Ivo led him to the mist, "we can let one pull itself together and you can talk with it all you like."

"I don't want to..." Talberth objected.

"Nonsense," said Ivo as the old gnome nudged him through the doorway and into the mist.

* * *

"Curse it, what is Ivo doing?" Harald complained.

"It's that portal, hells," muttered Harold. The halfing gnawed at his thumbnail in frustration. "We couldn't find some cave, no, we had to come here. I hate ruins, I hate the woods, I hate the stinking giants. When we get out of here I'm going back to Greyhawk and I'm not leaving it again."

"Wait," Harald felt the silver wire shift in his hand, "something is happening, I'm getting a signal from Ivo." The ranger stumbled back and a good length of wire came through the mist. "What is he playing at, there's the signal again. Harold stop complaining and grab your knife, there is something strange going on."

"You drop that wire and grab your sword," Harold told him.

"I'm not letting go till we find out what happened to Ivo," Harald replied, but he shifted the wire to his left hand and balanced his claymore as best he could in his right. Three strong tugs were placed on the silver strip and Harald gave back two short pulls. "That is the signal, he's coming through."

"That's not Ivo," yelled the halfling.

Harald let the wire slip from his hand and grabbed the hilt of his sword with both. "Talberth!" he exclaimed as he brought the blade back and prepared to strike.

"Wait!" it was the halfling's turn to yell. "How do we know it's Talberth. Where is Ivo?"

"Don't move," Harald warned and brought his arm back again.

"Don't be stupid," Talberth put up his hands as if to ward off the huge steel blade. "It's me! It's me!" 

"How do we know it's you?" questioned Harold.

"How do I know it is really you two?" Talberth replied sarcastically. "This is pointless, Harald put down that sword."

"You're just trying to confuse things," Harold complained. "What happened to you? Where's Ivo?"

As if summoned by his name Ivo stepped through the portal still holding the silver wire that the ranger had let fall. Blinded by the mist he walked into Talberth and made him jump. With a flick of his wrist Harald moved the tip of his sword aside; the point was only inches away from Talberth's chest. The cloth of the mage's robe pressed against the sword's keen edge and split as did the soft shirt underneath.

"Ouucch!" Talberth's hand flew to his chest and his fingers came away wet with blood. "Watch it!" he yelled at Harald.

"Sorry," Harald apologized as he lowered his sword.

"What are you three playing at?" asked Ivo. He stepped around Talberth's legs and scowled at them all.

"Is this Talberth?" the little thief asked Ivo.

"Of course it is Talberth, and I'm me and you're you," Ivo rebuked him. "Now let us get back to the others."

"But Ivo," said Talberth, "there is so much here that we need to explore."

"Too much," Ivo replied. "What we need is rest, and a place of safety. This ruin provides us with neither I'd say."

"We are safe enough now," Talberth insisted, though his hand touched the hole in his shirt and the drying trickle of blood from the scratch beneath. "Now that I know what to say, the skeleton's and the wraith will lis..."

"Wraith!" Harold squeaked out, alarmed.

"Do not worry, I talked with it. It obeyed my commands," Talberth said to Harold but he looked from face to face, "really we are perfectly safe."

"We need to talk with Telenstil first," said Ivo. "Talberth you were supposed to return if you found anything."

"Well I would have," Talberth said slightly annoyed, "but I was knocked out and manacled, I didn't get the chance."

"Before such a chance as that happens again let us be off and back to the others." insisted Ivo. "Harold, go collect your shadow."

"Little Rat," Harold's eyebrows rose, "if he's gone to sleep..."

"But Ivo we are safe," Talberth's voice had a pleading tone.

"Talberth you know better than that," Ivo shook his head. "And even if we are safe, what of the others?" the old gnome held up his hand to silence Talberth's objections. "Save your arguments for Telenstil. We are leaving; do you want to abandon us to search this ruin?"

"No, no," said Talberth. "This place is powerful, I know it."

"I do not doubt that," Ivo agreed.

"We may be the first people here in a thousand years," Talberth mused.

"These skeletons are still lively," said Harald. The ranger lashed out with his boot and sent a pile of bones clattering across the floor.

"A thousand years... then the time it takes to complete our task against the giants will be very short compared to that," Ivo said to Talberth.

"I will be back," Talberth said to the ancient walls.

"Ivo," Harold half dragged the young orc along, "do you have magic to help him. He wants to sleep and I'm having trouble keeping him awake."

"I'll carry him," offered the ranger.

"Here," said Ivo, he took a small pouch from his belt and, opening it, waved the contents back and forth beneath Little Rat's nose. The orc's eyes opened wide and he gave a huge sneeze, Ivo rescued his pouch just in time, pulling it away with a quick move of his hand.

"Smell bad," Little Rat complained and sneezed three times, one after another. 

***

A spark of greenish light danced within the carven pillars. It ran down the spine of a dragon whose head braced the ceiling stone, then followed a pattern of tiles till it reached the base of a fire giant bringing brief color to the grey rock. When it reached the eyes a red gleam awoke but faded as the spark ran past. There were cracks that radiated out from a hole broken in the roof. A block of rough stone wedged the gap shut and time had locked it in place as if it had been set there on purpose by a conscious hand.

Circling like a leaf caught in a whirlwind the spark jumped around the web of cracks. It flared as it leapt through the air, a sharp smell of brimstone and a puff of smoke followed its path. The spark touched the outstretched fingers of a storm giant and swam down the side of the statue.

Telenstil's nose twitched, the brimstone smell wafted down through the still air. The elf had been in deep thought examining the stone ogre that had been animated and seemed to obey his command, but the sharp scent brought his attention back to the chamber and the statues which surrounded him.

"Do you smell that?" asked Ghibelline.

"Yes," Telenstil answered. "It is very faint. Up there," he pointed to the ceiling.

They could see nothing. Rings of pillars blocked their view, a forest of statues each depicting some huge beast or monster running from the floor to the roof. The two elves walked slowly toward the center of the room, but the smell became weaker dissipating even as they approached its source. There was a sound, Telenstil put out his hand and Ghibelline halted beside him. Their footsteps were almost silent on the tiled floor but some small faint noise was nearly masked by them. Stone scraping against stone, that was the sound. It came from high up toward the roof and to their right. Both elves could see the tiny glow but they still could not see what made the noise.

Telenstil gestured, the movement of his hands and fingers cutting through the air like an ingot of molten iron leaving a momentary trail of haze behind. "Lo-Ta No-Tu," he said and pointed toward the spark of light.

It was like a tiny sun erupting from the dark; the eye of a spreading lacework of power that spread down the side of the pillar. Now they could see what made the grinding noise, it was the statue pulling fingers loose from the ceiling high above. The blaze of magic revealed by Telenstil's spell lit the stone arm like a burning tree, its branches in full flame while tongues of fire licked down its sides.

 "Something has awoken," said Telenstil.

"Can you control it?" asked Ghibelline, alarmed.

"I will try," Telenstil put out his hand; he whispered a word in a tongue that Ghibelline could not understand. "Ker-Zer," he said and placed his hand against the pillar. A line of glowing fire flowed down from the spark; it ran inside of the stone and burst from the spot that Telenstil's hand touched. White light flared and the green line was snuffed out in a fury of sparks. A splinter of stone sheared away from the statue and a shower of debris came falling from the roof. The statue shuddered and its upper body twisted free from the pillar.

"Ker-Zer!" Telenstil shouted. The stone exploded beneath his hand, the fragments shot to either side and a crack like thunder echoed across the hall. Above them the giant turned at the waist but its lower half did not move. It split in half and as the two elves watched it began to tilt and slowly fall, both stony arms reaching out radiating a green light, an intense blazing mote at its heart.

* * *

Ghibelline threw himself against Telenstil and dragged him around the side of the pillar as the statue fell. It struck like an avalanche, stone shattering the tiles and breaking apart under its own massive weight. The boom was deafening, the floor shook; a nearby pillar shifted on its pedestal and a rain of rock and stone came down.

A bouncing chunk of granite knocked Ghibelline from his feet; it caught him in the side and sent him tumbling. Telenstil was stung by a spray of knife-edged fragments from the shattered tiles. The wounds were minor, Ghibelline's side felt as if sharp needles had been driven along his ribs but his skin was not even broken. The blow left a large black bruise edged with brown and fading to yellow where the stone had struck.

There was only a moment to react, Telenstil crouched above Ghibelline and called upon the power of his ring. "Fa-Er To-Re," he commanded in ancient Suel. A globe of power surrounded them, in the dark it could not be seen, clear as glass but stronger than steel. As the stones rained down they rebounded from the curved perimeter of the spell and landed to either side of the elves.

The torso of the giant landed near the center of the room covering a pit whose depths were swallowed by darkness. One arm broke off at the massive golem's shoulder, half the head was blasted away by the impact with the floor. There had been a passage beneath the chamber. It had ended in an open door emptying into the pit a man's height down from the edge. As the floor lifted from the impact the roof of the passage caved in, the torso of the giant slid shoulder first catching between the doorframe then tearing free. The frame was ripped from the sides of the opening and followed the severed golem as it smashed from side to side falling into the dark. 

***

A rumble growled down the corridor, Talberth braced himself against the wall beside him. He could feel the vibration that thrummed through the stone. It passed quickly but a faint sound like the blows of hammers echoed from ahead.

"What was that?" asked Talberth. "An oerthquake?"

"No," Ivo shook his head. "That was the fall of stone. Something large and heavy, listen you can still hear the fall of lighter rock."

"If this place is caving in..." Talberth looked toward the ceiling.

"We are safe enough," Ivo patted the wall. "But we need to get back to the others."

"Let's hope that we still have a way out," said Harold.

* * *

The stones had stopped falling, but a patter of dirt and small fragments of rock no bigger than pebbles continued to drop down. Telenstil ended the spell he'd cast with a small sweeping gesture of his hand. Blood dripped from cuts under his eye and along his chin. A small needle of rock had clipped his nose and left a gash across the tip. The wounds bled furiously but none were deep, instead they were long, as if a razor had been drawn back and forth over his skin. Telenstil wiped his face with the back of his hand; it came away wet and red.

"You're hurt," Ghibelline said. He tried to rise but gasped in pain and fell back.

"No, you seem to be," said Telenstil. "This is just a little blood."

"My side..." Ghibelline pushed himself up while Telenstil reached out and helped him to his feet.

* * *

There were clouds and she was floating among them. Below her she could see the hills, the thick woods pressed against them, the mountains growing up toward the west. The mountains were higher than the sky, they blocked the moons and their tops were set afire by the passing sun. Gytha swooped low, the hills came rushing up. There were houses now, a small village set along a plateau, a pool at its center fed by a mountain stream. One house was bigger than the rest, it was nothing more than a large square building of stone, but it was easily four or five times the size of even the next largest home. She smiled; this building was her people's pride, their gift to their deity and the cleric who had brought the faith to them long ago.

The roof, tiled with plates of thin, fired clay, parted like mist as she dived lower and passed within. There was a choking smoke that seeped through the shuttered windows; the room was filled with it. There was the smell of burnt wood and burnt flesh, the tang of blood and strongest of all, the smell of fear. The room was filled with the injured, men, women, children, all those from the village and the surrounding lands. Gytha reached out and tried to touch them but her hand passed through as her body had passed the wood and tile of the roof. They seemed real, the cries of pain, the children's fearful whimpering, the coughing as the smoke increased. Fire was all around, in her mind's eye Gytha could see the village as it burned, the huge shapes of giants setting home after home ablaze with torches made from the trunks of trees. The monsters circled the building of stone; it looked small to her now. The thick stone walls and stout doors of oak banded with iron, they seemed no more than straw and children's toy-blocks beside the horrible strength and terrible size of the giants.

She knew what was to come and tried to close her eyes but they would not shut. The people began to wail, her flock, her friends, her kin, this was Gytha's village, or a dream-ghost of what it had been and how it met its end. The walls shook, there was a booming as the giants used clubs against the stone or tore boulders from the fence and threw them at the church. Oak boards shattered as the doors were splintered and sent flying into the villagers. A few men and women armed with spears and axes pushed the others back and faced the giants. One brute reached through the door then pulled back a hand that's finger had been hacked away with a desperate stroke. It put the bleeding joint to its lips and ducked its head and shoulders back outside. Stones rolled in as the giants played a game of ninepins and bowled down the defenders. Gytha could hear the laughter of the monsters as they sent boulders through the church to crush legs and pulp bodies of those who could not avoid the brutal stones. There was a shout and the booming began once more. Gytha held up her hands and screamed as the rafters collapsed and the roof came crashing down.

In an instant she was awake; a violent jolt had thrown her from her bed made of cloaks and packs. Stones bounced down around her and she was living her dream again. This time she did not scream, but Gytha looked wildly about for the villagers she had not helped in life and could not save even in her dreams. There were cold stone pillars all around, a tiled floor scratched a thousand times beneath, and only a small fire to light the dark. Near to where she had lain there was a body, Derue. The memory of the villagers faded, though they would never leave her completely, and the more recent past came back into her mind. What was that booming, she thought? Where are the others? 

***

Gytha put her hand to the scout's chest, it did not seem to move, she thought he might be dead. He started, Derue's hands strained at the ropes which bound them. Flashing, angry eyes glared up at Gytha, but the fire in them died and a gleam of recognition took its place.

"Are you injured?" she asked him.

He breathed deeply, but even the filling of his lungs was restricted by the rope wrapped about his chest.

"Didn't you hear the falling stones or feel the rumbling?" Gytha shook her head in wonder.

Derue closed his eyes. He tried to rise, but just rocked back and forth. There was a slow, careful deliberation to his movements. The rope gave a little and he slipped his shoulder beneath a loop.

"Let me help," Gytha tried to untie the knot, but Harald had tied it with a ranger's skill. It tangled and the rope snarled badly around the knot, twisting hopelessly.

As she worked Derue kept up the movement of his back and shoulders, another loop slipped over his head. He squirmed and shed his bonds like a snake leaving behind a covering of skin. There were wounds around his wrists, places where the flesh had been rubbed away, they bled. Each attempt to free himself had cost Derue a layer of skin and a small quantity of blood.

"You're hurt again," Gytha touched the scout's injured wrists lightly. "I have a knife in my pack. I will cut you free, don't try anymore," she glanced at the blood-soaked rope and he followed her eyes, "you will only hurt yourself more."

He nodded and stood unmoving while she went to find her pack and retrieve a knife.

***

"Gytha!" Ghibelline called out then broke into a painful cough. Each heave sent lancing pain through the elf's chest and he doubled over with his arms wrapped tightly around his aching ribs.

"Help me Telenstil, she might be injured."

"Stay here." Telenstil commanded. "I will go and find her."

"Go then," the wood-elf gasped, "I'll stay here, go."

Telenstil left him behind, it was only a short way across the hall to where she had lain. The floor was covered with stones fallen from the roof. A glance up at the vaulting ceiling showed cracks running from pillar to pillar. The statues themselves appeared untouched, protected no doubt by the enchantment which had been placed on them and still lingered after countless years.

"Gytha!" Telenstil called as he neared the small fire. He did not see her at first, his eyes were fixed on the motionless scout. A dagger appeared in his hand unbidden by his conscious mind, a spell was on his lips. "Gytha," he called louder and concerned.

"I'm here," she called back, "I'm fine. Where's Ghibelline?" she demanded.

"Good," said Telenstil, relieved. "Good, you were not injured?"

"Where is Ghibelline?" Gytha abandoned the pack she'd been searching.

"A stone hit him," Telenstil began but saw the fearful look that came over the cleric's face, he raised his hand, "wait, he is hurt, yes, but I think not badly. Go to him, near the pit, on this side of the chamber."

She looked out into the dark. "Take me to him. I will need a light."

"Take a torch," Telenstil pointed to the fire, "there were some laid by, they should be there. What of him?" he asked looking at Derue.

"His wrists are hurt," Gytha said as she rushed to the fire. She brushed away dirt and debris that covered a small pile of wood and finally found a cloth wrapped branch.

"Derue," Telenstil walked to the scout and looked him in the eyes. The evil madness was gone, now there was only a deep sad emptiness.

* * *

Light surrounded them as they traveled the dark corridor. The amulet which Talberth wore and the spell-enchanted torch that Harald carried burned with unnatural brightness, unflickering, fueled by magic. Ivo slowed them down. The old gnome was as strong and enduring as stone, but his short legs could not keep up with those of the two humans, both tall even for their kind.

"Leave me," he told them. "I'll catch up, go see what has happened.

" Hah," Talberth snorted. "Would you let me stay when I wanted? No! I am not letting you stay behind now."

"He's right," Harald agreed. "I can carry you." The ranger had Little Rat slung over one broad shoulder, the young orc's head and arms swinging back and forth with every step. The weight of the bone-thin youth was nothing to the man; the pack Harald had left behind weighed several times as much.

"Good," the thief said. "I'm tired of all this walking."

"I wasn't talking to you," Harald glared down.

"Ivo let him carry you," said Talberth.

The old gnome grimaced. "Quite undignified. Harold I trust that you will not include this in your stories."

"But Ivo this is such a grand idea," smiled the halfling, "humans to ride, much better than ponies."

"Maybe we should just drag you behind," Harald smiled back, "I'm sure we have some rope."