The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga - 2020 - Part 16

The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga - Part 16

The wall curved and the floor began to slope. As Talberth neared the far end of the hall he'd found a passage leading down. The floor and walls showed the scratching that they'd seen in the first passage. Here though there had been no mosaic on the ground, just rough stone that provided firm footing as the decline of the slope increased.

"Do you think the orcs went this way?" asked Talberth.

"I see no signs, but picking out one set of marks among these others is impossible," said Harold.

The sloping passage sank beneath the floor of the hall as it curved near to the far end. It became a tunnel cut into the ground with walls and ceiling no wider than Talberth's outstretched arms. He could place his palm flat upon the ceiling and let the fingers of his hands brush both walls at the same time. Soon the slope leveled out and the passage crossed another, they could proceed ahead or turn to the left or to the right. Each way was dark, the walls were chipped and scarred, the floor marked by countless claws.

"Which way?" asked Talberth.

"Which way for what?" Harold replied.

He stepped between the passages into the small open area where all four ways met. Harold peered down one way, turned and checked another till he had looked into each of the passages that lay ahead.

"There is nothing, no difference that I can see. No sign of the orcs."

Talberth huffed; he'd been hoping to find something right away. Time was passing, they had little to spare; he hated to waste it marching down empty corridors.

"Blast the orcs," Talberth spat out. "Let's go to the left."

"That seems like a good choice to me," said Harold. "Straight ahead and I bet we find ourselves back in the hall with pillars. To the right and it's that pit with the openings in the side."

"I just thought left looked good," said Talberth.

Harold smiled and took a small cloth from his vest. He unwrapped a piece of coal and made a mark at the corner of the wall near the floor. "Just in case," he said.

"In case of what?" asked Talberth.

"We get lost," spoke up Little Rat.

"Correct," Harold said, pleased that the young orc knew enough to mark his trail. "I always like to know where I've been."

* * *

"How did it go?" Harald asked the two mages.

Telenstil and Ivo found the ranger sitting by the fire, he'd fed it a few dry sticks and kept it burning low.

"We are moving to the other room," said Telenstil.

The ranger raised a brow and gave the elf a quizzical look.

"As safe there as here, perhaps safer," Telenstil told him.

Harald shrugged. "I'd sooner be gone from here," he said and brushed the wounds that covered his arms. "Those gibberling pups made me lose my taste for staying."

"I hate to wake her," said Ghibelline.

"She sleeps," said Telenstil, "good. But I feel it will be better if we move down the hall. I will wake Gytha; she can sleep again in a few minutes."

"Sometimes sleep is hard to recapture," said Harald.

"I will wake her," Ghibelline volunteered.

"Then help me carry Derue," Harald told him.

"Come then, Ivo and I will start bringing the packs and the supplies," said Telenstil.

* * *

Gytha yawned and put the back of her hand to her mouth. She'd sprang awake when Ghibelline had spoken her name, but relaxed when she'd seen that it was only him, reassured that nothing was wrong by the wistful smile on his face.

"We are moving to another room," Ghibelline told her.

"That's good," she yawned again, "wake me when you're done."

"Gytha, Gytha," Ghibelline gave her shoulder a shake.

She didn't reply but rolled onto her side then pushed herself to her feet. "Which way?" she asked still half-asleep.

Ghibelline took a handful of burning sticks from the fire, they provided a feeble light. The elf had no need, but Gytha was blinded by the dark.

"This way, it's the only way," he said to her.

"Don't wake me," she mumbled. 

***

"How far have we gone?" Talberth whispered.

"Not far, three hundred paces or so," said Harold, "Why are you whispering?" the halfling found himself whispering as well.

"I don't like this tunnel," Talberth answered.

"This?" Harold glanced around him.

"You have more room than me," Talberth reached up and braced his arm against the ceiling, "the tunnel is getting smaller. I thought so."

"Big people," Harold mumbled. "This is a thoroughfare."

"For you," Talberth replied, "but it's getting smaller."

Harold paused and walked from one side of the passage to the other and felt at the corner where the wall met the floor. He took a heavy pouch from his belt; it gave a dull clink as he undrew the string. A lead sling-bullet rolled out into the palm of his hand, Harold placed it against the corner of the wall where the claws of the gibberlings had not reached. It rocked for a moment then began to roll the way they were headed picking up speed with every revolution of the sphere. With a quick grab Harold snatched up the bullet and dropped it back within his pouch.

"It's getting narrower too," said Harold, "and we are going down, but even I don't feel it. This is cunning work; there may even be a slight curve to the passage."

"How far down have we gone?" asked Talberth.

"I can't tell," Harold glanced at the ceiling, "odd that the roof has lowered. We may be under something, another chamber or passage, a secret room maybe."

Talberth knocked on the ceiling with the knuckles of his hand, the stone rang solid.

Harold gave a laugh. "I don't think a secret room or passage would be hidden so poorly," said Harold, "not in a place that has been built with such care."

"Let's go on then, maybe the entrance is somewhere ahead," said Talberth.

"I haven't seen anything yet," Harold told the mage, "but I haven't been looking. We could double back."

Talberth thought for a moment then shook his head. "No, we don't have the time. It will slow us down too much. Keep your eyes open."

"That I've been doing, and I trust my instincts, but searching takes time," Harold said. "If I don't look, I'm not likely to find. It's either spend the time looking or miss anything there is to find."

"Which may be nothing," Talberth added. "No, no, let's see where this passage leads before we start going over every inch of the ground."

"This tunnel should lead somewhere," said Harold, "they put in a huge amount of work making it. I just hope there is something worthwhile at its end."

* * *

"She is asleep," said Ghibelline to himself. The wood elf returned to the others leaving Gytha snoring softly rolled up against the curve of the wall. They stood facing the enchanted statue of the ogre, Telenstil and Ivo were a pace back, while Harald had both hands against a granite arm and pushed. The muscles along his back and shoulders tensed into rigid lines but he couldn't shift the golem, it would not budge and inch.

"Uhh!" Harald grunted. "Too heavy for me to move."

"Solid stone," said Ivo who reached out and patted the golem's arm. "Enchanted stone."

"Is it safe?" asked Ghibelline.

"No," said Ivo then gave a chuckle at the worried look on Ghibelline's face. "Do not fear, not yet, but don't be too comfortable around it either."

"Your words do nothing to relieve me," said Ghibelline.

"Harald, has the sun set do you think?" asked Telenstil.

The ranger thought for a moment and measured the passing time with an internal sense that stone passages could not block. "It should be getting dark outside."

***

The tunnel shrank some more but was still higher than Talberth's head and wide enough for him to pass with ease. The halfling and the young orc noticed the shrinking walls though the ceiling was high enough above that it just seemed far away. Level floors that sloped imperceptibly began to drop then plateau out into a landing. 

Three times the passage sank down and evened out; it was lower by twice a tall man's height when they reached its end. 

Three doors blocked their way; they were set in the curving walls of the chamber, a half circle with a rounded roof. 

One door was iron, it bled with rust, sheets of metal peeled from its surface, parchment thin, layered deep, a pile of dust and flakes was thick before it. There was a second door of stone, above it the roof had cracked and water fell in slow droplets streaming down across its face like tears. Long fangs of rock had formed above the door; a hard crust followed the path of the drops, white and glistening, patterned like the veins which ran over a drunkard's nose. Water pooled at its base, a shallow depression worn into the stone of the floor. The third door was made of wood, dry and hard as rock. The timbers had cracked and iron rivets were half forced from where they had been hammered in. An axe head with a splintered haft was half buried near the metal latch. The handle was bent, the metal green with age and scarred perhaps by the axe-blade or another like it. The wood near to the handle was gashed, splinters showed where the blows had taken feeble bites from the ancient boards.

"We've found something here," said Harold. "Should we go on?"

"We can try a door," Talberth walked into the room.

The halfling gave out a yell, high and loud. Harold pushed the young orc back but could do nothing for the mage. Iron bars came down; they clanged against the stone and seemed to sink into the rock.

"Don't touch them!" Harold yelled again.

Talberth spun around, the metal snapped down before him, so close that the wooshing air whistled past his face.

"Don't move," Harold said, "don't touch anything."

* * *

"What did I do?" Talberth yelled to the halfling. "Harold, get me out of here!"

 "Don't move, don't move," Harold told him. "Keep calm." the halfling waved his hands at the mage with quick excited gestures.

"Don't move! What if that triggers something!" shouted Talberth.

"You're more likely to trigger something else if you move," said Harold. "Look at the floor."

Talberth glanced down then back at Harold. "What am I supposed to see?"

"There are no marks on the floor," Harold said, "Look at the hall; the floor is scratched to bits. Something kept those monsters from this room; there must be some way to raise those bars."

"Maybe they went through those doors," said Talberth. He glanced over his shoulder at the three doors behind him.

"Don't move!" Harold snapped. "I don't trust those doors."

"Don't move, don't move, is that all you have to say," Talberth complained. "Get me out of here!" Talberth reached out and grabbed hold of the bars.

Harold shouted and backed away, he ran into Little Rat who stood close behind him. A blinding flash exploded before his eyes, a coil of lightning seemed to jump between the bars and lashed Talberth as if with the tail of a dragon. The mage flew across the room, his body crashed against the door of stone and passed through as if it was not there.

"Talberth!" Harold yelled half-blinded by a purple afterglow that pulsed within his eyes. The bars slid back up into the ceiling, so smooth and quick that seemed to disappear as the mage had done.

* * * 

He could feel but it was as if he stood back from his body. The Keeper's wounds knitted but did not heal. The cut which split his skull closed, a knotted lump of bone ran from his forehead back along the crown and to his bald pate. Skin stretched to the edge, purple and discolored. His severed thumb rejoined but here again the skin did not close and the same with every scrape and gash that crossed his flesh.

The orcs had carved him, scrawled foul words in their crude tongue with the points of knives. The Keeper lived again but only vengeance was on his mind. First he would hunt down those orcs, he could feel them; they were near, so close that his spirit could taste them. Those that had cut him while the last sparks of life were held within his dying frame.

Ardare, the spirit of fire housed within the blade he wore beneath his belt, it sought to turn him to his greater prey, the human warrior who had used the very blade the Keeper now wore; the human warrior who had slain him. The undead giant could see him, could feel the man sleeping with troubled dreams. With a shake of his great maimed head he scattered the vision. He knew where the man lay, but before the Keeper would leave this place he would crush and grind the bones of those orcs who had helped to bring him low; they had retreated back into the small caves nearby. While he'd lived the Keeper had never considered them of any consequence, a few dozen orcs left to starve on scraps and scrapings. Now he had a thirst that only their deaths would quench.

* * *

"Hells, we've lost the wizard," Harold cursed. "Come on you," he said to Little Rat, "We'd best go find Telenstil and quick."

The young orc did not reply. He'd been screened from the blinding pulse by Harold but he'd seen the mage Talberth thrown through the air and disappear into the solid seeming door. Little Rat's mouth hung open shocked by the display of power, frozen in place till the halfling tugged his arm and the two ran back the way they'd come.

* * *

The passages beneath the steading rang with the sound of hammer upon stone. Metal sparked and rocks flew into splinters as the Keeper smashed open the entrance to the cave which housed the rebellious orcs. Beyond the entrance there ran long rough corridors, natural tunnels widened by the orcs. Each boom echoed down these hallways with a painful jarring noise that made the orcs cringe and start. They hid, these few survivors of the mage's lightning and the mad scout Edouard's attacks, they cowered behind boulders or wedged themselves into dark corners of the cavern's walls.

There were adjoining caves that lead deeper into the Oerth beneath the giants' hill, but these were home to creatures fiercer than the orcs. Nearby lived a group of troglodytes, beyond them were huge lizards that had never seen the light of sun or moons, and further still there was a vast chamber split by a fast running subterranean stream. Along the banks crawled insectoid scavengers that feasted on refuse seeping from the giants' latrines and on the mire which was washed onto the muddy banks. The orcs could flee but the troglodytes would not welcome them and the lizards and insects offered them a simple fate, the same that the booming of the giant's hammer foretold.

The fiercest of their number had died; these had been the last to join the fray, the first to run. The hammering beat upon their spirits as the metal cracked against the stone, sending shivers down their spines. One orc whimpered and dropped the rusted blade he carried then turned and ran for a passage which led to the troglodyte cave. He brushed past another standing near; that one ran as well. One shrieked, others saw them run and then all the orcs were fleeing. A smile raised the Keeper's lips, one corner lopsided by an orcish rune cut into the giant's cheek and running across his mouth and down his chin. He could feel the terror of the orcs, their presence drawing back, the giant knew they had no escape or place to hide. The hammer struck again, the Keeper put a joyful force behind the blow. A boulder half the giant's size tore loose and bounced down the corridor, but the ceiling groaned. Stones began to fall; they rained down and knocked the giant from his feet, bruised his lifeless flesh and buried him beneath tons of rock and dirt.

Small patters of loose oerth made the only noise, they stopped. The dark passage became still, the entrance neck deep to an orc in fallen stone. The rocks began to move, gravel shifted then the debris exploded out in all directions. The Keeper flew to his feet, his head bounced from a boulder trapped between the upper walls when the ceiling dropped. He reached up and placed his hands along his head and snapped the column of his spine back into place. Loose dirt sprayed out, he shook his head like a wet dog shaking the water from its coat, and then he laughed; ugly shrieks, high pitched and skittering like fingernails down a chalk board came from him.

It was good to be alive, even as a living corpse, he thought to himself. He'd be more careful with his hammer. The Keeper crawled on his belly like a snake and wiggled his way down the uneven corridor.

***

He felt sick to his stomach and his head ached. Talberth opened his eyes but everything around him was dark. "No light..." he said aloud and that was wrong. His hands felt at his chest and touched the metal of his amulet. There should have been light, his talisman would glow till the life of its enchanter ceased and Talberth had enchanted it himself. "What..." he began to say and pulled at the amulet, the chain dug into his neck and he tried to rise. Talberth's head smacked against a frame of wood, a dusty piece of cloth slapped him in the face. He coughed. "Blehhh!" Talberth spat out a mouthful of the dust, it dried his tongue and went up his nose. He let the amulet go and tore at the cloth; it broke apart in his hands like leaves dried in the sun.

Light appeared; first a ragged line where the cloth began to split and as he clenched his hands a gap showed but he still was in the dark. Talberth was head and shoulders beneath an ancient bench. He had to wriggle free, bracing his hands against the wooden frame and crushing more of the decaying cloth, he pushed. There was something wrapped within that felt like the branch of a tree, but it moved even as his fingers came in contact. A shower of dusty fragments rained down on his face, Talberth brought up his arm to hide his eyes; he turned his head away and rolled.

He heard a scratching on the tiled floor. Near to his head he saw a pair of bony feet, they were specked with black, pieces of the cloth that hadn't dropped away or were caught in the nooks of the skeletal feet. The feet shifted, Talberth looked up, he followed the legs to the hollow frame, the empty cage of its chest, a grinning skull looked back from dark pits where its eyes had been. The skeleton had no flesh; no lungs to pump the air, no vocal cords to make the noise, no tongue to form the words, but it spoke, or tried to. "Zzzziiii Vvvviiizzz Ppppaaazzzz..." hissed out like air escaping from the bellows at a forge.

"Yiii!!!" Talberth squeaked. He squirmed away on his elbows and kicked with his heels, a man's length back and he banged against a wall.

"Pppaaazzz!, Pppaaazzz!" the skeleton clacked toward him, it's claw-like hands outstretched. Shadows danced behind it, the light from Talberth's amulet throwing them against the far wall. From out of these shadows came more and more of the skeletons; a half dozen behind the first, another half-dozen behind these others.

Talberth pulled a dagger from his belt and slashed at a bony hand. The blade notched the arm, carved out a divot, but the hand had him by his wrist. The mage stood and shook the skeleton, he lifted it from the tiles but he could not break its grip. The groaning voice was in his ear, the creature held one wrist in either hand; strong as a full fleshed man it had him fast; it's long strong teeth near to his face. Talberth was on his feet and bashed the skeleton against the wall. He slammed it again and one hand came free. Before it could catch his wrist Talberth grabbed and caught the clawed hand still holding him. With two hands he swung it round and brought it against a wall hard enough to break its collarbone.

Hands caught Talberth by the neck, wrapped around his arms and dragged him away. The tall, thin mage screamed and kicked with his feet. He struggled in the skeletons' grasp as they took him from the room and through a hidden panel that opened in the far wall 
opposite the door. With its arm hanging loose the first skeleton still held Talberth's wrist in its other hand. "Zzziii Vvviiizzz Pppaaazzz," it hissed into his face.

* * *   

"Telenstil! Telenstil!" Harold shouted across the pillared hall. His voice echoed from the vaulting roof and broke the silence that held the room in its embrace. The halfling was startled by the sound of his own cries coming back to him so he called no more. His footsteps and Little Rat's were all that he heard at first after the echoes died, but when he was halfway across the room the sound of voices talking in earnest reached his ears. Harold could hear the clear tones of Telenstil's elven throat and Ivo's deep bass replies so typical of a gnome. There was another elven voice, Ghibelline no doubt and the grumble of the ranger. As he neared the entrance to the hall Harold could see them now. A magic light had been lit; one of the wizards had enchanted the end of a torch and placed it in the outstretched hand of the golem carved into an ogre's shape. They stood around the stone creature looking much as they had when Harold had left them to follow Talberth.

The warrior-elf Ghibelline faced the others, his arms rising with the volume of his words. Telenstil saw the thief and his shadow, he said something that Harold could not hear, which silenced Ghibelline, and waved. Harold waved back and hurried to reach the wizard and the others.

"...you have a quest, but..." Ghibelline was saying before Harold interrupted him.

"Telenstil!" Harold shouted in a hoarse whisper. "Telenstil." he said again after clearing his throat. "Talberth's gone. There was a magic trap, I told him not to go ahead..."

"Take me to this place," Telenstil said firmly and shook his head. Talberth had been his apprentice, but to the seemingly ageless elf it had been only a short time ago that Talberth had left his tutelage. In Telenstil's mind the young mage appeared as the gangly youth whose academic skills were matched only by his hunger to learn.

"Telenstil," said Ivo, "I will go. Magic tricks and traps are part of my craft as you know."

"Talberth is my responsibility," objected the elf.

"This quest is your responsibility, you were just saying as much to Ghibelline," Ivo told him. "You command the golem, your powers are more direct, mine are better suited to this."

"I'll go," offered the ranger.

"Yes," said Telenstil, "I would feel better knowing that a strong arm and able sword went along."

"Follow me, it's down the side passage we found, it's quite a ways," said Harold.

"Then we'd better get started," said Ivo.

"Take the light," said Telenstil. "You will need it for Harald."

"You humans..." Harold said under his breath.

"Halflings..." Harald answered him.

"You have good ears," the halfling said, surprised that the ranger had heard him.

"Return in an hour," cautioned Telenstil.

"If we can," said Harold.

"We will be back in an hour or send someone back," said Ivo. "I will make sure that we do not get in over our heads."

The ranger looked at the old gnome standing by the young scrawny orc and the halfling and smiled, then laughed. 

***

There was blood in his eyes; it burned like fire till the tears washed out the congealing stain. Talberth shook his head to scatter the drops and blinked, he could not move his arms and, blinded, he could not see what held them. He was standing and something bound around both his elbows and his wrists kept him upright. His head had been down, his chin on his chest, but as he moved he could feel nothing behind him, he was not up against a wall. Talberth's knees were bent; he braced his feet against the ground and stood. There was a pulling at his arms, whatever held him would not give, not when he tried to free himself, not even enough to let him fall. As he moved his legs he felt the bindings which were wrapped around them. His ankles were within unyielding cuffs, metal most likely; the bands around his elbows and wrists felt the same. To the right a deep voice laughed, a rough barking sound, Talberth was not surprised when he heard the orc called Boss begin to speak.

"Got you, got you," the orc laughed. "Bone men got you, Hah!"

"Got you too," said Talberth, "Didn't they."

"You shuddup," Boss yelled.

Talberth obliged the orc, he squeezed his eyes shut and slowly opened them. His sight was blurred but he could see. The light from his amulet lit the room; he was more surprised to find himself still wearing it than he was to find the orc.

The room around him was bare, an empty rectangle with a long pit at its center running down what appeared to be its entire length. Talberth was held at the far end of the long chamber, squinting he could see the dim shape of an opening far off opposite from where he stood. The mage looked down and saw the rings that held him were grey; they seemed to be of stone, the same with those that held his arms. Next to him were a row of identical rings set near the floor and at the same height along the walls, but they floated in the air attached to nothing that he could see. The ring that circled his foot was frozen in place, suspended above the floor; it would not move despite the pressure he put against it with his legs. Talberth couldn't see the back of the rings which held his arms but he knew that they must be enchanted just the same.

"Pull, pull," laughed Boss, "maybe pull arm off," the orc waggled his own bound arms, dark blood coated the rings which held him; he'd tried to free himself till he rubbed his flesh raw and strained the muscles in his arms and shoulders.

Talberth let himself relax, but his shoulders were sore and his back ached. His head ached as well and an open wound, now caked with half-dried blood, stung with every throbbing pulse that ran through the veins along his temples.

"What happened to the others?" Talberth found himself asking the orc.

"Gone, bone men take them," Boss said unconcerned.

"How did you get here?" Talberth wanted to talk; it calmed him, distracted him from his aches and let him think more clearly.

"Look for stuff," Boss told him, "follow tunnel, find doors. Bars come down and... magic... magic like you... doors not real. Old room full of dust and bone men. Chop them up no problem. Then ragmen come and they too strong. More bone men bring us here, bring you here too."

Talberth shook his head, he could do little else. At the far end of the hall a door opened, a strange pulsing light glowed from somewhere beyond it. Dark shapes appeared within the frame though they did not block the light. A dozen skeletons clacked toward them, bones clicking on the floor, scraping softly at the tiled stones.

Boss roared at them, "Him! Take Him!" a stream of orcish curses escaped his lips, but the skeletons did not pay him any mind.

* * *

She knelt before the Saint but she could not see him. There were stones beneath her; she could feel them, cold and smooth. All around her there was a golden light, a glow at the edge of her vision. Before her, where the Saint stood, a much brighter radiance of gold that Gytha could not face. Tears streamed down her checks, they tasted of salt as they passed her lips and fell from her chin. There was a wondrous joy within Gytha which she could not contain, and there was an infinite sadness, a sense of loss that she had not felt since her parents had been slain. Her eyes clouded by the tears, Gytha raised her head and looked into the golden radiance...

* * *

Boss was gone and Talberth was all alone. The orc's screams had faded so that Talberth could only hear them when he closed his eyes. The mage shook with fear, for a moment only the stone rings which bound his arms were all that kept him on his feet, but then he calmed. The fear fell from him as if it had never been. Trapped, his hands and feet bound tight within enchanted rings of stone, Talberth felt free. He was not scared anymore, and even if worse things were to come he did not think that he would be afraid to face them. With his mind calm he took stock of his situation. It did not look good to him.

"At least I am still alive," he said to himself. "Why am I alive?" Talberth's brain flickered into action; he cleared away cobwebs that his fear had created within the corners of his mind. As best he could he went over every moment since he had stepped beyond the long corridor.

"What did that skeleton say?" he asked himself. The words it had spoken seemed familiar, "Suel, yes Suel, they are part of this place. What were the words, Z, something, something." Talberth moved his head slowly back and forth then up and down trying to shake free a memory.

* * *

"Don't touch the bars," warned Harold.

"I wasn't going to," the ranger replied peevishly.

"So this is where Talberth was caught," said Ivo. The gnome reached into a pocket in his vest and felt for a small metal box. As his fingers touched it a better thought came to mind. "No need to see if there is magic here."

"There is a powerful spell on those bars at least," said Harold.

"Stand away," Ivo waved the others back.

"What are you going to try?" asked the ranger.

The large man had not moved back as far as Ivo would have liked. He walked toward the ranger and shooed him further up the hallway. "I'm going to see if the magic can be cast aside."

"Is it dangerous?" Harold asked, the halfling took quick steps backwards to avoid the retreating man.

"Of course it's dangerous," Ivo chuckled at the question. "But less so than walking blindly down these halls."

"Hey!" Harold objected. "It was Talberth, he wouldn't listen."

"We will see what he says about that when we find him," Ivo told him.

"I hope you are right," said Harold.

"So do I," muttered the old gnome. "Now stay back and keep quiet while I cast this spell," Ivo said in a louder voice.

***

Power erupted from the bars, a coil of blue light that faded as Ivo's spell took hold. An invisible wave that could only be detected by its effects on the places it touched washed across the room. The floor of the chamber, its tiles showing no damage unlike the corridor which had been scratched and gouged, bubbled like a cauldron of broth atop a roaring fire. A framework of silver lines woven between the squares of tile began to snap; one whipped back and scored the metal bars others slashed against the walls.

The spell passed on till it touched the doors. Each changed; they became a swirling mist bound within the stone frames as if they were kept from the entrance room by a sheet of glass that could not be seen. The metal door covered in rust became a brick-red smoke, the stone door was a cloud of grey and where the wooden door had been was now a swirl of brown. The axe head lodged in the wooden door clanged to the ground as the wood turned into mist. Ivo's spell had reached its outermost limits and disappeared.

"There now," said Ivo, "that should take care of that."

Harold had peeked from around the ranger's leg as the spell passed through the room. His eyebrows raised at the spectacular effects and he gave a quiet whistle at the results. "Is the magic gone?"

"I'll check, wait where you are while I do," Ivo warned. The gnome spoke quietly, the words of power were secret to his kind, and with a gesture of his hand a shimmer of bluish light shone from the metal bars, glowed from the snapped silver wire, the walls, the ceiling and burned bright from the mist filled doors.

"Ivo it's still there," exclaimed Harold.

"No, no, there is a residue of enchantment," the old gnome looked closely at one spot then another within the room, "the magic which trapped the bars is fading as is that which formed the trigger across the floor. Those doors have had their true form revealed, but their power is such that my poor magic could not dispel them."

 "The bars are safe then?" asked Harold.

"Of magic traps," Ivo told him, "I believe yes."

"Good," Harold stepped forward, "I'll check for traps of a more natural kind, needels, levers, gears, and such, you stay back."

Ivo chuckled but obeyed. The gnome moved back beside the ranger and kept a watch on the actions of the thief.

"Look for traps?" asked Little Rat. "Move bars?"

"You go back with them," Harold told him, the young orc surprised him, he hadn't heard Little Rat's approach.

"No," Little Rat said firmly. "You show me, I learn."

"If you are going to stay then you can help me up these bars," said Harold. "Cup your hands, give me a lift up." he showed the orc what he meant, lacing his fingers together and miming how he wanted Little Rat to help.

"Heavy..." grunted Little Rat.

"Hah!" Harold snorted. "And after starving for days now! I'm empty inside. Light as a feather!" Harold moved near to the frame of the door using the stone of the wall to help him climb further up the metal bars. He'd found no sign of traps at the base or along the sides and when he reached the top there was only an open space above where the bars had been hidden before falling into place. "It looks clear," Harold said after climbing back down.

"Harald, see if you can lift it. I think it just slides back up."

"Now I wish we'd brought Ghibelline along," the ranger said. The big man bent and braced himself, then strained at the iron bars. Inch by inch he raised them, they moved smoothly but their weight was very great.

"We need to brace them," said Ivo.

"Harald, hold them, I have to climb your back," the thief called out. Harold grabbed the ranger's belt and scrambled up till he was balanced on a broad shoulder.

"Watch my arm," said Harald. "And hurry, I can't hold this long." 

***

The spike whirred into the wall, the ancient stone seemed to cry out in protest but the power of the metal's enchantment proved stronger than that of the gateway. Harald relaxed and let the gate slide down, it caught against the enchanted spike and much to the ranger's relief, it held.

"Remind me," Harold said to them all, "I don't want to leave that spike behind."

"I remind," spoke up Little Rat.

"Good," Harold nodded then looked over at Ivo. "You remind too."

"I remind, I remind," Ivo said imitating the small orc, "now let us worry about what still lies ahead."

"I don't like these doors," said Harold the first to step under the gate and into the room.

"Magic portals," Ivo offered.

"I like that even less," mumbled Harold.

The ranger was the last to step inside. He nudged a strand of silver which had sprung from the floor and eyed the axe head which lay before the portal that swirled with brown smokey tendrils. With his fingers almost brushing the broken haft he stopped and made a clicking sound with his tongue.

"Harold... Ivo, do you think this is trapped?"

The halfling gave a derisive laugh.

"Who knows in this place, but better to check and be cautious."

"Which portal did Talberth go through?" asked Ivo.

"This one," Harold pointed to the gateway in the middle that was directly opposite the corridor. "That is the one," Harold said glancing over his shoulder.

"Ivo, this axe head, did it appear enchanted?"

Ivo pondered the question as he stood before the central portal. He'd picked up a chip of stone from the floor and rolled it in his hand. "Yes, but is it trapped? As you say Harold, better to be cautious."

"Leave it alone," Harold said to the ranger. "That means you as well," he turned to Little Rat.

"No touch," the orc held up his hands and shrugged.

With a flick of his hand Ivo tossed the chip of stone into the swirling mist. It passed through the unseen barrier which kept the mist in place and sank into the cloudy depth disappearing almost at once. The stone disturbed the swirling pattern slightly but only for a moment and then the mist was flowing in unbroken curls again. Ivo breathed in deeply, the gnome considered what he'd seen then drew a knife. The blade touched the mist, he pushed in further, there was no resistance, but his fingers upon the hilt tingled. Frost covered the steel it steamed in the warmer air.

"Ivo," said Harold, "not much in this room. I did break off a bit of this silver wire. It is not pure, some alloy, I had to use my knife to cut it free."

"Good," Ivo took the wire from Harold. "I was going to try throwing my dagger through the portal, with a string attached of course, but this will be easier."

"Isn't the wire enchanted?" asked Harold.

"So is my dagger," Ivo smiled, "I'd rather risk the wire."

"I can see why. You tried your dagger already." Harold had kept an eye on the steaming blade. The frost was gone but it had left a wet sheen on the steel.

"Cold," Ivo wiped the moisture from the sides then resheathed his knife. "That mist is cold; perhaps it is cold in the room beyond."

"If Talberth went through there," the ranger nodded to the way before them, "then we will have to follow."

"Yes, but with caution, Harald," Ivo told him.

The wire went through the mist, one foot, then a second, the thief had broken off a four foot length and Ivo pushed all but the last half foot through to the other side. 

***