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Grains of Sand - Part 4b: The Road to Nowhere
After dark, the hobgoblins made a brief stop to wear their armor. Then they pressed on.
“It’s been four hours,” said Ilmarė. “If they don’t do something with this caravan soon I’m just going to shoot one of them.”
The hobgoblins led the wagons between yet another set of massive stone outcroppings, into a large flat area that was bounded by a rough ring of rocky pillars. They led the wagons into a circle.
“Well,” said Quintus, “it looks like they’re going to make camp for the night.”
After a few minutes of drinking water and resting by the wagons, the hobgoblins set off again. With hardly a backward glance, they headed eastward into the darkening desert—sans wagons, horses, and cargo.
“Should we follow?” asked Vlad.
“I’m not sure,” said Quintus. “Perhaps we can track them…”
Left alone and unguarded in the middle of the moonlit Wastes, the horses whinnied softly to one another as the hobgoblins hiked off into the desert.
“The shifting sands will cover their tracks,” said Beldin. “We will never find them.”
Kham wheeled his mount around. “Look. I didn’t travel all the way out here just to attack those things now. They left the wagons in this stone circle for a reason. I say we wait.”
Quintus was about to say when Ilmarė pointed. “There!”
A face peered out from one of the stone columns above them. It appeared to be a man, looking down from inside the rock itself through a small and previously unseen hole, perhaps thirty feet above the desert.
“Down!” hissed Quintus.
“Did he see us?” asked Vlad.
Suddenly, a human voice echoed through the still night air from somewhere above: “KHABAT MERAH APESH!”
There was a faint rumbling. The ground vibrated as the sand in the center of the stone circle began to shift, as though something huge and ancient was stirring beneath the earth.
“That’d be a no,” said Kham.
After a moment, a huge shape began to emerge from beneath the sands. Twenty feet wide and a hundred feet long, it jutted up from beneath the sands at an angle, like some ancient serpent rising to wakefulness after centuries of sleep. The horses stared stupidly at it, but did not run.
“That’s our signal,” said Quintus. “I’m going in.” He popped the cork off a vial.
“Where did you get that?” asked Kham. He looked at the others. “Who let Quintus play with potions? Only I’m allowed to do that.”
Finally, after rising some twenty feet at its highest point, the shape stopped.
“It’s a stone lid,” said Beldin. The lid was a huge, rectangular box of yellowed stone, carved with worn glyphs and ancient runes.
At one end of the box, a massive set of double doors swung soundlessly open. A group of perfectly ordinary looking humans emerged from it. Fifteen in number, they moved directly toward the wagons. Behind them gaped the torch lit entrance to a stone corridor, sloping down below the sands.
“This is my mission,” said Quintus, “so I will investigate it personally. I won’t risk all of you going in without some intelligence as to what’s inside.” Then he swigged the potion and faded from sight.
“Yeah, real stealthy.” Kham pulled a potion from his coat. “I can still see your footprints in the sand, Quintus.” He drank his own potion and disappeared.
“Great,” said Ilmarė. “Now we’ve got two idiots running around in there. I guess that leaves…” she looked for the dwarf and the Milandisian, but they were already sneaking towards the opening.
Ilmarė rubbed her temples.
After dark, the hobgoblins made a brief stop to wear their armor. Then they pressed on.
“It’s been four hours,” said Ilmarė. “If they don’t do something with this caravan soon I’m just going to shoot one of them.”
The hobgoblins led the wagons between yet another set of massive stone outcroppings, into a large flat area that was bounded by a rough ring of rocky pillars. They led the wagons into a circle.
“Well,” said Quintus, “it looks like they’re going to make camp for the night.”
After a few minutes of drinking water and resting by the wagons, the hobgoblins set off again. With hardly a backward glance, they headed eastward into the darkening desert—sans wagons, horses, and cargo.
“Should we follow?” asked Vlad.
“I’m not sure,” said Quintus. “Perhaps we can track them…”
Left alone and unguarded in the middle of the moonlit Wastes, the horses whinnied softly to one another as the hobgoblins hiked off into the desert.
“The shifting sands will cover their tracks,” said Beldin. “We will never find them.”
Kham wheeled his mount around. “Look. I didn’t travel all the way out here just to attack those things now. They left the wagons in this stone circle for a reason. I say we wait.”
Quintus was about to say when Ilmarė pointed. “There!”
A face peered out from one of the stone columns above them. It appeared to be a man, looking down from inside the rock itself through a small and previously unseen hole, perhaps thirty feet above the desert.
“Down!” hissed Quintus.
“Did he see us?” asked Vlad.
Suddenly, a human voice echoed through the still night air from somewhere above: “KHABAT MERAH APESH!”
There was a faint rumbling. The ground vibrated as the sand in the center of the stone circle began to shift, as though something huge and ancient was stirring beneath the earth.
“That’d be a no,” said Kham.
After a moment, a huge shape began to emerge from beneath the sands. Twenty feet wide and a hundred feet long, it jutted up from beneath the sands at an angle, like some ancient serpent rising to wakefulness after centuries of sleep. The horses stared stupidly at it, but did not run.
“That’s our signal,” said Quintus. “I’m going in.” He popped the cork off a vial.
“Where did you get that?” asked Kham. He looked at the others. “Who let Quintus play with potions? Only I’m allowed to do that.”
Finally, after rising some twenty feet at its highest point, the shape stopped.
“It’s a stone lid,” said Beldin. The lid was a huge, rectangular box of yellowed stone, carved with worn glyphs and ancient runes.
At one end of the box, a massive set of double doors swung soundlessly open. A group of perfectly ordinary looking humans emerged from it. Fifteen in number, they moved directly toward the wagons. Behind them gaped the torch lit entrance to a stone corridor, sloping down below the sands.
“This is my mission,” said Quintus, “so I will investigate it personally. I won’t risk all of you going in without some intelligence as to what’s inside.” Then he swigged the potion and faded from sight.
“Yeah, real stealthy.” Kham pulled a potion from his coat. “I can still see your footprints in the sand, Quintus.” He drank his own potion and disappeared.
“Great,” said Ilmarė. “Now we’ve got two idiots running around in there. I guess that leaves…” she looked for the dwarf and the Milandisian, but they were already sneaking towards the opening.
Ilmarė rubbed her temples.