THE SUNLESS CITADEL
Part 4: Tothla's Dream
Upon hearing mention of the Sunless Citadel in the Ol' Boar Inn, Tothla's curiosity was piqued. He recalled an illuminated manuscript in the House of the Dead, the temple to Sheol in far away Dubsdread. The tattered pages of that text spoke of a powerful northern vampire staked to the earth ages past in a remote stronghold. According to the tome, the once-proud fortress fell into the earth, and its echoing, broken halls were rechristened the Sunless Citadel.
"Odd that you should ask about the Citadel," Garon began. "About a month ago some strangers arrived in town, a paladin and an elf, also asking questions about those old ruins. They got Talgen and Sharwyn Hucrele all stirred up with stories of the place, and they all set out to explore it, but were never seen again. Last time anyone else asked me about that place was over a decade past. I remember that fellow well. Strange, grim fellow named Belak. He had a very large pet frog perched upon his shoulder. Haven't seen him since, neither." Garon did not have much more information about the Sunless Citadel, but told Tothla that Oakhurst's resident healer, Dem Nackle, might know more. Tothla thanked him and was off.
The healer dwelt in a low, neat, thatch-roofed structure adjacent to the Ol' Boar. Tothla entered to find a wizened female gnome in the midst of an intense conversation with a middle-aged human woman. "I've told you before, Kerowyn," said the gnome. "I care for your children, but I simply cannot abandon my flock here, especially in these dangerous times. Besides, I'm an old healer, not an adventurer. If there is something in the Citadel that Talgen, Sharwyn and their friends could not handle, I certainly would be overmatched."
Both women stopped abruptly and looked to Tothla. The color drained from the human woman's face, as if she had seen a ghost. The gnome rubbed her pointy chin with her hand as if trying to remember something, then her face lit up. "Oh yes, you must be a Sheolite! We don't see many of your ilk this far north. Welcome! I am Dem Nackle, but you may call me Corkie."
"Thank you, madame Nackle," said Tothla in his haunting voice. "My name is Tothla, and I am indeed a Sheolite. I hail from Dubsdread in the Farsouth, and I am something of a missionary. I am here to spread word of our faith, and teach priests of other denominations certain burial rites and other methods for preventing the rise of the dead."
The gnome listened intently, but the human woman seemed annoyed by the interuption. Tothla turned his attention to her, and she shrank away from his penetrating gaze.
"I am sorry to intrude upon your conversation, but I believe I heard mention of a citadel. Do you speak of the Sunless Citadel? I would know more about that place."
The gnome began speaking rapidly, seeming excited to share her knowledge. "The Old Road runs right past the Sunless Citadel, but has fallen into disuse because of goblin banditry. Old legends hint that the Sunless Citadel once served as the retreat of an ancient dragon cult, but no one knows for certain what its purpose might have been.
"I do know that it is infested by a goblin tribe. Once every midsummer, the tribe ransoms a single piece of magical fruit to the highest bidder in Oakhurst. They've been doing this for some twelve years now. The fruit, an apple of perfect hue, heals those who suffer from any disease or other ailment. It is more potent even than my own healing abilities.
"We have tried planting the seeds at the center of the fruit, hoping to engender an enchanted tree of our own. When the seeds germinate in their proper season, they produce a twiggy mass of twisted sapling stems. Not too long after the saplings reach two feet in height, they are stolen. Every single one of them. We believe it is the work of the goblins, jealous of their...."
"You know," interrupted the human woman, seemingly recovered from her initial fear of Tothla, "if you wish to learn more of the Sunless Citadel firsthand, I am organizing an expedition to travel there in search of my children. It sets out tomorrow, and I am sure that a man of your abilities would be extremely useful. In addition to gaining the answers you seek about the Citadel, I am offering a generous reward."
Tothla considered the offer momentarily. It troubled him that the town, so near the spot where an ancient vampire of significant power was dispatched, was now besieged by some unknown evil. It was probably just a coincidence, but if this had anything to do with the undead it was Tothla's duty to investigate further. Tothla agreed to join the rescue party, and was told to meet a woman named Brynja in the Ol' Boar at first light. The human woman, Kerowyn Hucrele, departed, leaving Tothla to discuss the current threat to the town of Oakhurst with Corkie Nackle. Corkie agreed to take Tothla to the graves where the victims of the mysterious killer were interred. There he performed a sacred burial blessing to ensure that the dead would not rise. He did not have any evidence that the murders had been the work of the undead, but one could never be too cautious in these matters.
* * * *
Tothla found himself walking through Oakhurst. The town was silent as a tomb, and the sliver of waning moon was barely visible through low, wispy clouds. Though slightly disoriented and confused, he knew exactly where he was headed. To the graveyard, to perform burial blessings. It occurred to him that he had already tended to this earlier that day, but oddly that seemed not to matter.
He was soon walking the path that wound through the small graveyard. Most of the tombstones were relatively plain and uniform rectangles of chiseled slate. There were several that were more elaborate, but it was for the most part a very common small town burial ground. It was too dark to read the names of those interred. Here and there Tothla noticed that some graves had not even been marked with proper tombstones, but rather with odd little piles of stones. Each marker was made up of seven small stones.
The little path wound on for an impossibly long distance. The graves seemed to stretch on forever. Tothla did not remember the cemetary being this large, but he proceeded as if not surprised. There were grave markers as far as the eye could see along the path, until eventually in the distance the graveyard was enshrouded with a thick, roiling fog. The path became wild and ill kept as Tothla went farther, and he realized he was in a dark wood, the town of Oakhurst now far behind. His boots were caked with the mud of the poor path. Tothla saw that there were very few proper gravestones now, and more and more of the crude seven stone markers. Then he noticed with some unease that many of the stone markers were scattered haphazardly, as if strewn about by children playing at some gruesome game. Worse, some of the muddy graves showed signs of upheaval, as if someone had been digging at them ... or something had clawed its way out of them.
Tothla sensed the creatures behind him before he saw them. He turned about sharply. There on the path were ghouls, vile gray creatures with skin drawn tightly across their bones, sharp teeth, and red, burning eyes. They advanced, and he took a step backwards, looking over his shoulder. Now he saw that there were ghouls on the path in either direction, and he swallowed hard and gritted his teeth. He clutched his holy symbol, a small replica of the coffin-shaped insignia on his tunic, in one hand. In the other, his grip tightened around his weapon, a solid, heavy mace with a head in the shape of a skull. Raising Sheol's symbol high, Tothla roared the words of turning and expected to watch the ghouls flee before him. They only grinned, displaying their wicked teeth, and closed in on him.
Terrified, Tothla stood there swinging his mace in a broad defensive sweep, silently warning the ghouls to keep at bay. They were nearly atop him, their clawed hands outstretched and their red eyes burning feverishly. Tothla uttered a small, choked cry and fled from the path into the forest, the ghouls in pursuit.
The strange forest was populated by short, twiggy masses of twisted sapling stems. The fog swirled about them, and in it the bizarre little trees seemed to writhe and reach out for him as he passed. Pale, spindly briars coated with tiny barbs pressed close. Then he came upon the tree, a singular tree of evil, and the ghouls were promptly forgotten.
Its blackened, twisted limbs reached upward like a skeletal hand clawing its way from the earth. The fog moved eerily among the tree's branches, creating the illusion that the tree was in motion, though no wind was blowing. He heard one sound coming from the tree, the low but persistent beating of a heart. Tothla was moving toward the tree even though he was no longer walking forward. Or perhaps the tree came to him. It reached out with its grotesque limbs and embraced him, and he found himself thrust into darkness ...
Tothla was in a dim defile. A stony fang thrust up from the canyon floor. Wider at the base, it slowly narrowed toward its apex, where it terminated in jagged stone splinters. Though its tip must have been some 300 feet above the canyon floor, the cliffs on either side were five times as high, cloaking the spire in shadows. Its sides were carved with stone gargoyles, demonic faces, porticos, ledges, and other baleful textures. Above all was the sound of a heartbeat, growing increasingly loud.
Tothla was now inside the sinister tower, in a large chamber, standing on a narrow catwalk that gave way to dark oblivion. A disembodied heart, the size of a small hut, hung near the ceiling, 45 feet above the narrow catwalk girding the massive chamber. The heart burned with a cold, black flame, which provided the chamber's only illumination. Suddenly from behind the giant heart appeared a man in an impossibly long cloak which whipped about as if animated with a life of its own. The man wore strange dark goggles, and had long, flowing hair and a goatee. His skin was alabaster, and as he smiled Tothla saw that his teeth were actually cruel fangs. He approached Tothla, floating through the air with ease, the hearbeat maddeningly loud.
* * * *
Tothla awoke in a sweat. The dream had been horrifyingly real, and he was left with the impression that it was a vision of sorts. Looking out his window he saw that it was still night, with several hours left before first light. He closed his eyes and pulled the sheet up to his chin, but it was a long time before he was able to drift back to sleep.
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