The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga - 2020 - Part 13

The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga - Part 13

They wandered down the trail to where Gytha stood beside Ghibelline. The ranger talked with them standing straight and tall, the grievous wounds he'd received healed by the cleric's faith and prayers.

"...be more." said Harald.

"I know, they will be hunting for us, those wolves of theirs will track us down," Ghibelline said.

"There are a few tricks to throw them off our trail," Harald glanced up and down the path. "But this place, they may lose our scent among all these bodies and blood."

 * * *

Telenstil had been right. The moons were up and still the party was on the move. It was slow going, and despite Harald's best efforts they were leaving an easy trail. They were heading north and west, away from the hills and up into the mountains, but they hadn't left the woods behind.

Low branches slashed at them, roots and stones caught their feet, made them trip and stumble; they followed a deer trail that weaved through the underbrush. The ground was rough and uneven, the trail narrow and lined with thornbushes, they moved with a slow and awkward pace.

Harald had gone ahead, some said that he had the elven sight but it wasn't true, what the darkness hid from his eyes his other senses revealed to him. It was Talberth and Gytha who had the worst of it, neither could see far in the dim moonlight. Gytha at least had some woodscraft, she'd lived within the hills and mountains of Geoff all her life, but Talberth had been born and raised in Greyhawk, the hub of the Oerth as he called it. The young mage knew much about the arcane crafts, had served as an apprentice to Telenstil and seen the world beyond his city's walls, but he had never been far from a campsite or an inn. He was not used to wandering through the woods at night, looking for a place to camp, forced to sleep out under the stars, his pack as a pillow and his arms folded about him for a blanket.

They traveled single file, the orcs last in line carrying Derue, the thief and young orc leading the others over the trail. The two humans were kept at the center of the file where those with the nighteyes could keep them from falling in the dark or straying from the path. There was a hiss, low and subdued, it came from the halfling and it brought them to a halt.

"There is a clearing up ahead," Harold whispered to Telenstil and Ivo.

"Where is Harald?" the elven mage asked.

"I have no idea," Harold snapped back. "What do you want us to do?"

"Did you see something?" Ivo asked him.

"Nothing but the end of this trail," said the thief. Harold was not pleased to come upon a surprise when his friend the ranger was somewhere ahead and nowhere to be seen. "He should have come back to warn us. I don't like this."

"Can you circle the clearing?" asked Telenstil.

"I can," said Ghibelline speaking over the gnome's head. "Let me go, I'll see what has happened to the ranger."

"I can do it," Harold said with a huff.

"You're as quiet as a mouse in slippers," said Ivo, "but Ghibelline has the woodscraft."

"Shhh..." hissed Ghibelline.

"Yea, quiet down." a voice said from nearby. Harald worked his way slowly from beneath a thornbush.

"Where were you?" demanded the thief.

"Sorry, you made better time than I expected," Harald replied. "I found us a decent spot. There is a spring up here and a small rise just beyond the clearing where we can camp."

"We nearly had to go looking for you," complained Harold.

 The ranger shrugged. "Good practice for you, out here you never know, scouting ahead is dangerous work, sometimes you don't come back."

"Harald," said Telenstil, cutting off the thief before he could say anymore, "Show us this place. We can all use the rest."

"Come then, follow me," Harald lead them down the last few feet of the trail into a small clearing, its western end held a small pond, but he took them to the northern edge

***

Talberth had never slept more soundly in his life, but he awoke with a terrible ache, every muscle in his body felt like it had been pulled apart and sewn back together with twine. It was sometime before dawn, he lay upon a bed of fir branches with his pack beneath his head. The night had been cold but dry and with a second layer of branches piled over him he had been warm as if he'd been sleeping in a bed.

The sky was purple, day would be coming fast but already the others were astir, all except for the orcs. Boss, Meatstealer and the surviving pair, Halfknife and Brokenhand, would have preferred to travel by night. They liked the dark; the day was for sleeping more often than not. Months had passed while they had been the giants' slaves; day was when the torches burned, when they worked digging the tunnels beneath the steading. Night was when they were locked in their unlit cells; they had not missed the sun.

"Time to wake up," Ivo gave Talberth's shoulder a shake.

"I'm up," he yawned. "How long did I sleep?"

"Five hours, a little more," laughed Ivo quietly. "You were out on your feet last night. You were asleep and snoring before Harald cut the last of the branches for your bed."

"I don't snore," muttered Talberth.

They ate a cold breakfast of half-cooked beef. Harald had found one steer that had burned longer than the rest, he hadn't mentioned the body of the giant he'd found roasted beneath it, avoiding any qualms that the others might have. The orcs had taken their own choice cuts, preferring their flesh raw or at most just kissed by the flames and nothing more. They were less squeamish than the others, a week rotting in a canvas sack just added to the taste for them.

"Which way now?" Talberth asked just before they set off.

The scorched beef had been passed around with fresh water from the spring.

"Muphlimm-umph," Ivo answered him then swallowed the mouthful of food he'd been chewing. "North, Harald's finding us a trail."

"He's back," Harold spoke up, pointing to the ranger weaving his way through the brush back up to where they sat. "I'll go get Ghibelline, he's keeping watch by the spring."

"Talberth, why don't you get those orcs moving?" Ivo asked the tall mage.

"They seem to listen to Ghibelline just as well," said Talberth.

"That was yesterday," Ivo replied, "they were just obeying the tone of his voice, they forgot he was an elf. Go on, they're scared of you, all the qualities that a leader of orcs needs."

"Since when are you an expert on orcs," Talberth said annoyed. He didn't enjoy his status with the orcs.

"Well this is a first for me," laughed Ivo. "But I know orcs, too well I know them, believe me."

"Well I've never had them on my side before either," said Talberth.

"Oh don't make that mistake," Ivo told him seriously, "they aren't on our side, don't trust them, if they think they can get away with it they'll put a dagger in your back, especially because they're scared."

"I don't trust them, I don't like them," Talberth replied heatedly, "I don't want them with us..."

"Easy there," Ivo said in a calm and friendly voice, "I agree, but they are with us for now. You are they best to deal with them. We need you Talberth, don't let us down."

"I'm sorry Ivo, I... I just needed more sleep," Talberth said quietly, "I'll go get the orcs."

***

"What in the Nine Hells is that?" Harold asked.

The little thief stared at a broken form not much taller than himself but broad and muscular as an ape. It had a coat of greyish fur and a thick mane of black hair surrounding a face like a cross between a human's and a wolf's.

"That," said the ranger turning the dead body over with his foot, "that is a gibberling."

He bent and felt the muscles in its hand then touched its neck, the spine snapped like a stick. "Still stiff, killed last night, thrown, look at that stone, that's what broke its neck."

Underneath the dead beast's head was a rounded block, a large square of stone worn down by time.

"That is an odd stone," the ranger touched the grey rock, it was speckled with bits of black, cold and smooth under his hand. He pulled up a clump of weeds that grew beside it and revealed the corner, cut stone; a building had stood upon this spot, but long ago. "...as I thought."

"What?" Harold asked. "What do you think?"

"Here," he said pushing back a thick bush so that the stump of the plant was visible, "more stones. We're standing near the foundation of some building, or in it."

"Where?" asked Little Rat twisting around to see.

"Tumbled down," Harold told the orc. "Just stones now."

"Oh," Little Rat said in a disappointed tone.

"You two wait here for the others," said the ranger, "if there is one gibberling, there are a hundred."

"Are they dangerous?" squeaked Harold.

"Very," the ranger smiled. "But not in daylight. We have half the day to get beyond their reach."

North of where he'd found the body of the gibberling the ranger broke through the thick underbrush and stood within a wide swath of torn and uprooted plants. There was a circle where the trees were knocked down and the ground torn up, the oerth churned as if from a plowman's blade. Mixed with the dirt were the shards of bones, splintered, the marrow gone. A minute's search turned up a skull, stripped of flesh and cracked open then hollowed out. A giant fought and died here, then was eaten raw. The destruction ran west-east, the tracks, hundreds of them, pointed toward the east; they'd gone toward the rising sun. The dead and drying leaves were still alive the day before, sometime last night the gibberlings had passed, or so the ranger judged from the signs he found.

* * *

"Gibberlings," said Telenstil standing over the body.

"Strange to find them here," said Talberth.

"What are they?" asked Ghibelline, "Nothing of nature surely?"

"Drones perhaps, like ants, they may have a queen and spring from eggs, "said Talberth, "We studied them at university, I have seen one splayed open, preserved, they are not male or female, these do not reproduce."

"A wizard's creation, yes," said Telenstil. "That is my thought. They are extremely dangerous, though not during the day."

"That is what Harald said," spoke up the thief.

"They are rare to find like this," mused Talberth, "they eat their dead. You only find their bones, or when the last of a herd has been killed."

"He said it was thrown, and that rock is part of a building."

Ivo bent and ran his hand along the stone as the ranger had done. "He was right, at least about this rock. And these, Telenstil, these are old, very old. This is not the work of gnomes or dwarves."

"Giants?" asked Talberth.

Ivo laughed. "Giants no, well not Nosnra's kind," he looked closer at the block, "not the giants of stone and rock either, I know their work; Human hands perhaps. Another mystery, back at that hill, a trail leading up to nothing, and here, something was built here." 

***

"The world is old, many people and places have come and gone," Telenstil mused quietly but then spoke up in a louder voice, "The stones beneath the steading, Ivo, did they seem the same?"

"Yes!" Ivo agreed vigorously. "Yes, this is the same stone."

"We dig old stone, find bad place," said Little Rat. "This bad place?" he asked alarmed.

"What did you find? Where?" asked Talberth excitedly.

"Bad place! This bad place. Place make crazy, bad place make crazy," Little Rat screamed out terrified.

"We're going," Harold grabbed the orc by the shoulder and pulled him away from the stone block and the body of the gibberling.

"Wait..." Talberth began.

"Let them go," Telenstil told him. "Gytha do you sense anything?"

The cleric stood very still for a moment, then quietly began to pray. "My senses are weak, dear Saint, aid me, let me see beyond this veil, let me know where the touch of evil is present on the land," she held out the iron rod she'd taken from the giants' kitchen and faced the foundation stones they'd found.

Gytha was still for a few moments, she did not breath, then with a whoosh she exhaled and then breathed deeply. Telenstil looked at her; he did not say a word but raised his brows.

"There is evil, very faint, it runs along those stones," she said. "I will try again." she paced away from them out to where the last of the stones could be seen then turned so that the worn block was at her back.

* * *

Harald rushed along the path he'd taken through the heavy brush. He abandoned all attempts to conceal his tracks, but his well-practiced woodsman's skills kept him from leaving a careless trail, the branches fell back in place, unbroken as he passed. There was a shout, he heard a piping voice; the ranger broke into a run. He had to stop to draw the huge blade he wore over his shoulder, he swore he'd carry it like a staff or spear in future cursing as the edge caught on an overhanging limb.

"What is it?" the thief called to him. The halfling drew his own blade as he ran, the young orc trailing behind him a rusty dagger gripped in either hand. "Harald is it those monsters?"

"What was that yell?" Harald demanded.

"That? That was just the Rat here," the halfling explained. "Ivo says the stones are the same as in the steading, this one, " Harold pointed back toward Little Rat casually with his thumb, "got upset, he's scared. So am I."

The others had gathered around the body of the dead beast, the orcs had just put down their burden, Derue, and caught sight of the gibberling. Harald could hear their voices rise, then their leader gave a shout and knocked one to the ground. Talberth yelled then and made the lot cower and scowl.

"They sound scared as well," said Harold.

"They should be. We are safe for now," the ranger told him. "The herd went to the east, at least as far as I could see. We should be able to avoid them."

"That's good news," Harold said with relief. "We'd better get them moving then. What are they up to?"

The pair walked side by side back to the others with the small orc just behind, his daggers still drawn in his hands.

* * *

Gytha paced out a wide half circle through the bushes, she traced the outline of a structure; now only worn or buried blocks of stone. She walked back to the others, but before she reached them she stopped, then with her iron staff she dug into the ground at the base of a young tree. When the staff had sunk in several handbreadths deep she bent her head and directed the power that the Saint had given her toward the oerth underfoot. The others could not hear the prayer she spoke, but they saw her pause then shudder before she rose. The ranger, the halfling and the orc rejoined the group just as Gytha approached, all walking quickly as they could.

"There is an old evil here," she said. "It is very faint, but strongest down below the ground." Gytha pointed to the spot where she had knelt by the young tree. "Something is there. Something evil, below that spot; It is faint because it is far below. The evil is still present; these stones are only evil from a presence that passed away long ago."

"Then we should be leaving," Harold said. "We have enough problems with the giants, now we have these monsters," he gave the body of the gibberling a kick. "We don't need more."

"I agree," said Harald. The ranger pointed to the east. "Gibberlings, a good-sized herd went that way, they are harmless in the light, but we must make haste."

"Harald, you know these creatures, but I have studied them as well," said Telenstil. "A herd moves forward like a wave, they follow the easiest path, they will only veer aside if they are tracking prey. A large herd like this that moves on and does not return from a night's forage, they are not likely to return at all, is this correct?"

"What I've seen agrees," said Harald, "a big herd on a rampage, they aren't likely to go back to their lair, just keep on moving till all of them are dead."

"What kind of beasts are these?" asked Ghibelline. "What sense does that make, they go forth and kill till they are killed themselves?"

"No one knows for certain," said Talberth.

"Harald, what say you to following their trail?" Telenstil asked.

"If we find them they are helpless in the light of day," answered Harald, "but there looks to be hundreds, unless they are nearby we could not hope to kill them all before the sun has set."

"No, no," Telenstil gestured with his hands, "Let us follow the tracks where they came from, not where they have gone."

"That's crazy," burst out the thief.

"Hah!" laughed out Ivo. "The giants might think so too."

"Aren't we in enough danger!" Harold objected.

"Think, even the giants would be unlikely to follow such a trail, and our own tracks would be lost among the destruction of the herd."

"If we are careful maybe," the ranger said. "They have left a path wider than the road to Gorna, but we will be going the other way, a good tracker might find us."

"The wolves should be unable to follow our scent," said Telenstil.

"That monster stinks enough to hide even the smell of the orcs," Ghibelline added.

"It's crazy," Harold shook his head.

"It might work, there should be some type of cavern where they came from," the ranger thought aloud. "Telenstil, it is still a dangerous idea."

"We need to find a place to camp, a temporary base of some sort. If the giants are tracking us, then this gives us an opportunity to escape them," Telenstil said to them all.

"I don't like it, I don't like it," muttered the thief.

 ***

Harald took them to the gibberlings' path, a wide ravaged section of woods as if a river of knives had flowed past stripping the bark from the trees and leaving the brush shredded to no more than bare sticks, like a fleshless skeleton, behind.

Ghibelline laid his hand upon the bole of tree left bare, "These are slain; there will be nothing but the corpses of trees all along these monsters' trail."

"Do they eat everything?" asked Harold shocked at the devastation.

"No, they only eat flesh, but they slash and gnaw at everything in their path," the ranger explained. "I have only seen them twice before, never in such numbers as this. Those times were not this bad. Yes, these trees are dead, but the brush will grow twice as thick without their roots sucking the nourishment from the ground, or the leaves hiding the sun."

"The death of one is the life of another," said Ghibelline.

"The Oerth Mother's plan," nodded the ranger in agreement.

"Just as long as those monsters are eating trees and not me, then I'm happy," Harold said.

"Well since you are so happy you and your shadow can come with me," Harald told the thief, "Ghibelline, can you make sure that there are no tracks left behind?"

"I'll do my best," said Ghibelline, "I never thought I'd find myself hiding the tracks of orcs."

"Are we ready?" Telenstil asked walking over to where the ranger stood.

Talberth followed close behind, his bruises were just a light brown and yellow pattern on his face, around his eyes and nose.

"Whenever you say," Harald told him, "but we'd best make it soon." He reached out and put his hand on Telenstil's arm. "We could go north as we planned, or let Ghibelline scout the trail and I will head east to see where these monsters are."

 "North might be safer, but I have not changed my mind," said Telenstil. "There is a risk no matter where we go, the north may lead to more trouble, yet we know that the way that the gibberlings have come is clear."

"What about trailing them?" asked Harald.

"I feel we need you with us more than knowing where they have gone."

"Well then, if that is how it is then I'm off, I'll take these two with me, and I've asked Ghibelline to make sure we leave no trail," Harald said, first pointing to the thief and Little Rat then toward Ghibelline.

"Send Harold back to us every so often, that way we will know that all is well," Telenstil instructed.

"Right," the ranger nodded agreement then waved for the halfling and the orc to follow him as he set off down the trail of devastation left by the gibberlings. It was like traveling a field of grain with the harvest left atop the stubble to rot. Harald showed the pair how he wanted them to walk, following the trail where the gibberlings had made the deepest marks.

"Step where the ground is firmest, try not to leave your own steps showing," Harald told them.

"I know how to not leave a trail, even in the woods, and I've spent the last two months keeping out of the giants' way, we'll be fine," the thief assured him.

"Then I'm going to go on ahead. You two sit and wait for the others every so often, I'll do the same or double back and check on you," said Harald. "If I'm gone for more than a hand's worth of the sun," he put his broad palm up toward the sky, "three of your hands, then go back to Telenstil and say to him that there is trouble ahead and he'd better go north."

"What about you?"

"Anything that catches me and keeps me from coming back will get you as well," Harald told him plainly. "You make sure that Telenstil goes north." 

***

The path that the gibberlings had taken led back to a ravine. Harald looked down into its depths but he could make nothing out. The sun was past its noon and the light did not reach more than a few feet between the narrow walls.

Destruction reigned along the eastern edge of the forest. A steep trail rose from the ravine at that side, the gibberlings had followed it up, Harald could see the tracks. They had set off straight as the flight of an arrow once leaving the ravine, only changing direction to follow the course of the terrain.

"Like a river," Harald mumbled to himself. He thought about turning back, finding Telenstil and the others but he'd left Harold and the orc only a short time ago, there was time enough for some exploring before they would become concerned.

The south-west wall was lower than its opposite side. Harald could see where the oerth had fallen away; the crevice was not old, perhaps formed during the past spring when the melting ice carved out gullies and streambeds down the mountainside. Maybe a pocket had opened up beneath the oerth, or a cavern collapsed and the ground sank in to fill it. Whatever had occurred, the ground had split and from it the gibberlings had spewed forth.

Harald closed his eyes and stepped from the sunlit path into the gloom between the ravine's walls. He kept them closed for a few moments till they became adjusted to the dark. There was a little light, but soon even that was swallowed by an impenetrable black. With only his hand to guide him Harald took a small tinder box from his pack and drew out a short-handled torch, just long enough to keep his fingers from being scorched by the flame. A piece of goatskin was wrapped around its head, beneath was an oiled cloth that ran with blue at the touch of a few sparks of flint and steel. The torch burst into flame, yellow-orange, illuminating the dark. The path was steep indeed; a few more steps and it became an almost vertical drop, like a well, deep and dark, no end in sight. Harald waved the torch above the shaft, putting his head over the edge and peering into the depth. The flames showed deeper shadows, grooves cut along the sides. The gibberlings had used their claws to scratch away the stone and form a crude ladder to climb the shaft. The beasts were small, about the size of dwarves, but they had long hands and big feet that ended in a pair of large toes. They'd cut their ladder deep enough for Harald to use and he began his climb.

First he smothered the flame with the wrap of hide then put it within his pack. Now he was blind, the dark was absolute; he used his sense of touch to feel his way down. There were more grooves set in the wall than he needed, the gibberlings were small; Harald's reach was long. The way was easy but the descent took time, a quarter hour passed before Harald's foot struck the bottom of the shaft. The air was thick with the smell of the monsters, but there was something else. Harald breathed slowly though his nose and let his mind sort through what his senses brought in. A brood smell, the monsters' waste, their sweat and dander. Mold: a slightly damp smell, rotting wood, the smell of oerth. A breeze: something moving the stale air. He put his finger to his mouth and wet its tip, then held it up. The cooling skin let him feel the draw of air up the shaft. Carefully he drew out torch and tinderbox again, took away the goatskin wrap and struck the flint. A low whistle escaped from him, a quick intake of breath over his teeth. The cave was much more than he expected it to be.

* * *

"Quiet," hissed Harold.

"Sorry," Little Rat apologized. The young orc put a hand to his brow. He'd been making a groaning sound, the sun overhead made him feel sick. The dungeon had been dark and cool, glad though he was to be free from the giants, he did not like the hot day or the burning light.

They weaved their way through the broken underbrush trying to leave no tracks that could be detected among the gouged and trampled oerth. Harold kept them moving over felled trees or rocks, over anything that that would show no sign of their passing. They found a hard strip of clay baked solid by the sun that lay along the edge of the trees just clear of the wreck and havoc left behind by the gibberlings. It was like running across the rooftops back in Greyhawk. Harold felt nostalgic at the feel beneath his toes. The destruction came to a sudden end, the pair found themselves at the edge of a ravine, a dark narrow crack in the oerth. The ranger must have come this way, Harold cursed.

"You ninny!" he said aloud.

"What I do?" asked Little Rat.

"What? ...Oh nothing, you didn't do anything," Harold peered into the dark; he could see a little beyond the small area lit by the waning sun, he thanked his mother's kin for the nighteyes he possessed. "That cursed ranger has gone down there no doubt."

"We go too?" Little Rat sounded pleased. The cool dark called to him.

Harold thought for a moment. He should go back and tell the others what he found, but the ranger should have come back first before going on.

"Two wrongs," he said to himself. "Come on let's get out of this sun," he said to Little Rat.

The young orc practically ran down the steep trail into the dark of the ravine. 

***

Ghibelline had a hard time hiding the trail the others left. The orcs, carrying the scout bound on a wooden pole, walked heedlessly, some left deep prints where they stepped into still damp oerth or pushed the brush aside, the broken ends shifted round like arrows pointing back the way the gibberlings had come. He ran ahead and talked with Telenstil, the wizard had his underling, the human Talberth, command the orcs to follow where he stepped, and Talberth walked where Telenstil directed. Their pace was slow; Ghibelline knew that they lagged behind the scouts. The ranger would be quietly upset; the huge man would scowl to see them take such time.

There were hours of daylight left but who could tell how far this trail would run. The pace did not improve but the orcs' trail began to lighten and even disappear. They wanted to march along in a straight line, but it was safest to shift and dodge their way around patches of loose debris or muddy ground. Ghibelline went ahead till he was near the last orc in line, then when they passed a thicket of brush he stepped into the woods and hid. A feeling had crept into his bones that something followed close behind but always just out of sight.

Ivo called for them to stop. The old gnome had found himself at the head of the march. The cleric Gytha was beside him but Telenstil was busy leading Talberth who led the orcs. A strange scene it created, an elf followed by a human, trailed by a quartet of orcs, all in single file walking down a path wide enough for a pair of wagons to ride abreast.

* * *

The torch flared into life and from somewhere nearby Harald could hear a high-pitched shriek then the sound of something skittering over stones. He almost dropped the wooden handle as he grabbed for the hilt of his claymore. The blade sent sparks from the wall and ceiling as he drew it from over his shoulder; he held it out before him one handed like a lance. There was nothing, no further sounds except the hissing of the flames and his own breathing, but what he saw astounded him.

In the torchlight he could see that the floor was a scratched and worn mosaic, the walls were stone, at one time veneered with thick plaster, now all but fallen to the ground. Still there were patches across the walls which showed a scene of plains with armored chariots rolling by, pursuing an enemy or beast now lost, their images mingled with the dirt and debris pushed into the corners and piled against the walls. This was no bare cave, instead it was once a decorated chamber the stones finely set, large blocks of grey rock speckled with black, their edges almost invisible, a razor would not fit between. A crack split the wall, above it the ceiling had fractured as well and through this the shaft had been cut. The slab that had formed the ceiling was thick, even with the stone broken Harald could not guess at how much work it had taken to claw through, scraping away a fragment at a time.

There was a doorway wide as the hall, two great valves of stone, which sat beneath the shaft, but it was shut and would not move. Two figures were carved into its frame, a pair of men, barrel chested, heavily muscled, their backs bent, their arms outstretched as if to hold up the arch. Still gripping his sword Harald ran his knuckles across the carvings, cold and smooth, the grooves and scars left across the wall had not damaged these. With the pommel of his sword he gave the doors a rap, the metal clanged on stone dull and solid, it sounded as if only dirt and rock lay beyond, but Harald had the feeling that they once opened out onto the sun and sky. Useless doors, they were now just a part of the wall, he turned his back on them and peered into the dark.

The chamber extended beyond the range of light that his torch projected. Harald was drawn forward, each step revealing more of the hall. It was wide, perhaps twenty feet across, the ceiling was not low, though Harald could reach up and touch it with the tips of his fingers, if he stood on his toes. The tiles beneath his feet had been obliterated; those that had not been broken or dislodged had been scratched by hundreds of clawed feet passing back and forth. The walls were just as bad, though it was time which had done the worst, the gibberlings had left the murals alone, but they had fallen in bits and pieces just the same.

A hundred paces and the passage opened into a vast chamber. A pillared hall each column shaped like some beast. An ogre, its chest armored in banded mail, a creature with the body of a snake and the torso of a strong looking woman, six armed, each hand gripping a different type of blade, a centaur, its bow raised and arrow notched, a manticore, and dozens more.

As he neared the middle of the room he followed a crack that meandered back and forth. At the center, surrounded by columns shaped like dragons of different hues but carved from the same gray stone, the crack widened, a circular pit with crumbling edges was watched over by these sculpted beasts. Harald looked into its depths but could see nothing, he bent and examined the edge; the stone was grooved and notched. He ran his hand within the pit and felt the familiar holds clawed into the walls. The gibberlings had come from here, he was sure of this. 

***

The skittering sound came again, it echoed across the hall. Harald twisted his head back and forth trying to track it down, but with no success. Something was moving in the dark that filled the corners of the room. He left the pit behind and with his torch chased away the blackness and searched for whatever made the noise.

* * *

"Head feel better," said Little Rat.

"Good, good," Harold mumbled absentmindedly. The halfling had crept ahead till he reached the shaft carved into the floor of the ravine. "Shhh!" he signaled to the orc to keep quiet, then put his ear to the hole and listened. Nothing, he could not hear a sound. He felt like calling out the ranger's name and cursing him, but he held his breath.

"We go..." Little Rat whispered and pointed down the shaft.

"We go back," said Harold and gestured toward the woods and the path the gibberlings had clawed through the underbrush.

"I stay?" offered Little Rat. "Cool here, nice and cool."

"You go too," Harold told him. "Come on, we have to go tell the others."

Little Rat grumbled, he dragged a dagger's edge across the stones with a screech and spark.

"Keep quiet!" the halfling commanded. "I wish you'd put those knives away, they make me nervous. No way ta treat them either."

* * *

Ghibelline could no longer hear the others, not even the orcs as they tramped and grumbled along the march. The woods were still, the gibberlings had chased off all that could escape them and eaten all that could not. The elf made no sound, he did not move, he barely seemed to breath, just crouched and waited for whatever that was tracking them to appear.

* * *

"Ivo, Gytha!" Harold ran up to them.

"Harold what is it?" asked Gytha concerned at the sudden appearance of the halfling.

"What's wrong?" Ivo asked expecting to hear bad news.

"Telenstil!" Harold called over to the elf. "The trail ends, there is a ravine and a hole down into the oerth, but no ranger."

"Harold," Telenstil came over to them quickly but did not run, behind him Talberth and the orcs stumbled trying to pick up their pace and follow the elf.

"The ranger has disappeared," said Harold.

"Was there any sign of trouble... a fight?"

"No, and there is a hole, something dug into the bottom of a crevice at the end of the trail," the halfling told him breathlessly.

"You had better lead us there, he may need our help," said Telenstil.

"He told me to tell you to go north," replied Harold. "He told me, if something got him, go north, don't follow."

"We will take care but I have no intention of abandoning our ranger," Telenstil looked from face to face.

"Hey!" Harold exclaimed. "I'm all for going after him. I'm just telling you what he told me to say."

"Gytha, Talberth, Ivo," asked Telenstil, "what of you?"

"You need to ask!" Gytha would have laughed if she had not been concerned about the ranger.

"I think we are all agreed," said Ivo.

"Talberth?" asked Telenstil

"Yes, yes, fine," Talberth grimaced looking around the shredded brush and mangled trees. "I don't fancy being out in the woods without him. Where is that Wood Elf?"

"Ghibelline!" Gytha realized that he was nowhere to be seen.