Chapter 12
The five spent three days within the temple of the Forge Father. The dwarven priests, a few goblins amongst them, left them alone, leaving them to talk, plan and rest before they entered the underground network. Mekior, D'Fir, Sister Egrit and Gyv spent much of the time questioning Jeria to make sure they had every detail that he remembered. They all feared to face the fiends and did not want to leave anything to chance. They sought to make sure they would not be taken by surprise.
The morning of the fourth day found the five readying to leave as the water clocks ticked over to show dawn, hopefully at the same time as the sun rose in the world outside. Kier stood there to see them off, his hands raised in benediction, five backpacks at his feet.
"What is in the packs, D'Kier?" D'Fir addressed the priest of the Forge Father, and his uncle.
"No longer D'Kier, you know that D'Fir. I gave up my claim to the throne when I took my seat amongst the priests of the Forge Father. Your father has always cursed me for leaving him to sit on the throne, neither of us wanted the job, but I was the quicker to find a way to avoid it."
"These backpacks are our gift to you. Filled with food, water skins and gear that anyone venturing into the outside would need." He smiled, "and don't be deceived by their size, they have been made with blessings from the Forge Fathers."
Each of the five picked up a pack, and Jeria almost threw it over his shoulders, as the weight he had expected was not there. He frowned, sat down and started unpacking the pack to see what was inside.
"What you doing, Jeria?" Mekior looked down and watched as Jeria removed each piece of equipment laid it out neatly,: rope, a grappling hook, five days worth of dried foods and black bread, some candles, a tinderbox, flasks of oil for a lantern, a water-skin, a thick, woollen winter blanket, a vial of a thick blue liquid, a vial of red syrup like liquid, and one of an oily green substance, plus a whole lot of odds and ends that made no sense. Mekior looked at the range of items, not believing that they had all come out of the small pack before him, and that the pack was so light.
As he started to repack, Kier came up and rested his hand on his shoulder. "Another useful feature of these packs; when you want something, just think of it as you reach in and it will be lying on top. You never have to search for anything within. As for those vials, use blue if you sustain a mortal injury, the red is if you should ingest something containing taint, it will nullify it if drunk soon after, but no more than a day later. The green one is in case of poison. Good luck to you all, may the Forge Father guide your steps and bring you back home wiser, and healthier, than when you left. May his road guide you to your destiny."
***
Two days into the journey and the tension was rising in the group. Jeria worried over it; he knew from experience that tension between people journeying together led to problems and danger to the group. Tension between Sister Egrit and D'Fir, the one dedicated to the Void, the other to the Forge Father; tension between Mekior and Gyv, their failed relationship never spoken about but always between them. Inconsequential actions flared up into arguments, the simple lighting of the campfire enough to spark an argument between Sister Egrit and D'Fir; he taking exception to the use of magic on such a small task, her not understanding his want of using mechanical devices that seemed so much more cumbersome.
On that second day the arguments finally led to what was the inevitable consequence, an argument that went just that little bit too loud and too long. Perhaps in the open air the noise would have been lost, but in the tight confines of the tunnels, the sound echoed and carried.
The group set-up camp, warmth provided by a small fire, started in mere seconds by Sister Egrit, followed by the inevitable sermonising and disagreement from D'Fir. Food was cooked, eaten, and the group settled down to sleep. D'Fir took the first watch, his back to the group as he watched the tunnel though which any danger would arrive.
The hours of his watch dragged on, shadows flickering against the walls, playing tricks with his eyes. D'Fir stood, axe at the ready and waved towards Jeria who, true to his nature, stayed awake most of the night whether on watch or not. Jeria came slowly forward, straining his eyes against the dark, axe at the ready.
"Spotted something?" Jeria whispered as he neared the dwarf.
"Not sure, I want your eyes for this. They're better than mine and the others need their rest, especially the witch." D'Fir stopped talking, a rueful look on his face. "Can't help myself, you know. I know you're right, any military commander knows that tension needs to be reduced but I can't help myself; she is just too smug!"
Jeria nodded and motioned for him to be quiet. "Later, right now, let us check what, if anything is out there."
Jeria moved into the shadows, calling on his fiendish blood to bend the light around him, extend the shadows to hide him as he moved. Practice and need had taught him how to do this, an ability he was grateful for though it came from his detested father. He moved around the edges of the tunnel, slowly enough to check the area thoroughly. The blur of a blade as it came towards him came as a surprise, his avoidance of it on an instinctual level; a roll out of darkness, into the light his axe being drawn in a single smooth motion as he came to his feet facing the shadows from which the blade had come.
"Wake the rest! Something is here, within the shadows." Jeria backed away, eyes on the shadows, waiting to catch movement, the tell tale signs an enemy might make as it moved in to attack. When the attack did come it still took him by surprise as a shadow detached itself from the wall, striking with a blade of shadows that he barely avoided, a blast of cold air following in its wake.
The creatures of shadow that attacked had disappeared again, the shadows from the fire providing them with ample opportunity to move undetected around the group. One struck out, its blade biting into Gyv as she moved to find the enemy. Its blade cut across her leg, leaving a line of blood dripping to the floor, the wound rimmed with ice; as she turned to face the direction of the blade, the creature struck again, from a different angle, plunging into her side, sending her to the floor. D'Fir swung his axe into shadow where he believed one of the creatures to be, but was sent backwards, almost stunned as his axe blow, his full strength behind it, rebounded off the rock wall. As he sought to recover, D'Fir stumbled backwards; his back pierced by one of the shadow blades, and collapsed, his legs no longer worked, shock and pain sending him into blackness.
Sister Egrit awoke, her companions falling one by one to the shadow creatures. She raised her arms, invoking power form her Divine Master to aide her.
.
"Master of the Void, bring your light down, fill these abominations of darkness with the light of life." Her invocation rang out clearly, heard by all. A deep, echoing laughter followed, cut off soon after as light began to well up, the small fire suddenly giving off the light of a raging bonfire, then that of a thousand torches. Shrieks, high pitched and pain filled rang out, man-shaped shadows dissipated, washed away in the wave of light, unable to survive. The flash of light was for but a moment, but its effects longer lasting. In its aftermath, Mekior stared at the meek, middle-aged, greying woman that he had dismissed as ineffective and with them for merely political reasons. Then he noticed Gyv and moved to her, his eyes tear-filled as he knelt beside her.
I can save Gyv, but at what cost? I did it last time, but she was unconscious when my blood saved her. If I do it this time, there will be no way to avoid the questions, no way to avoid revealing my nature! I can't do it! I love her but I love the life I lead, no one can know! Mekior sat next to Gyv, his face showing grief, his heart feeling disgust at his actions. Fiend or not, I try to be human, but this just proves that we cannot be completely false to our very nature!
Jeria knelt by the side of D'Fir and inspected his wound. "He's still alive! Gravely wounded but alive. How is Gyv doing?"
"The same. She has a wound in her leg, relatively minor, but the gash in her side will kill her soon." Mekior's voice cut off, emotion coming to the fore, his tears dropped onto Gyv's upturned face, a bitter-sweet smile turned to him as she fought her pain.
"I have to die before we get together again?" She stopped, pain closing her mouth as she sought not to scream.
"Are you three always so melodramatic?" Sister Egrit's voice rang out. “Get some of the healing potion from Kier out. I may not agree with them on philosophy but they do know how to brew potions, almost as well as their beer!"
Jeria reached into the pack and pulled out one of the blue vials. He uncorked it, and the smell of mead and curry permeated the air. He lifted the head of the dwarf, wondering how he was going to get the dying, unconscious dwarf to drink. With his left hand he forced D'Firs mouth open, dropped a few drops in, and then more as the first drops were swallowed. Amazed, he watched as the dwarf drank, as the wound closed miraculously and the dwarf opened his eyes and smiled before sinking into a deep sleep. Wonder lighting his eyes he turned, to see Gyv in a similar, deep, healing sleep.
"Wish these were readily available back when we first met, perhaps Gruzz would still be alive." Jeria's words were directed at Mekior, busy with making Gyv comfortable as she slept and recovered.
Mekior looked up at Jeria.
"I haven't thought of Gruzz in years. There have been so many deaths in my life before his, and so many since. They tend to blur, to become as one, the individual faces blurring as time passes."
"That is sad. Life is for living, rejoicing in. True, the Cult of the Dead preaches that we should all just kill ourselves, go to our reward and escape this fiend infested hellhole our world has become. Yet, if we can look at ourselves, at each other, there is beauty that the fiends cannot touch, cannot destroy as long as any of us remain alive, albeit as slaves!"
Mekior and Jeria stared at Sister Egrit. She stood highlighted by the flame, the scars on her arms dancing in the firelight, casting shadows across her arm; a hypnotic pattern that demanded deciphering, yet one which neither of the watchers possessed the knowledge to understand.
***
They lay and recovered for two days. They all marvelled at the efficacy of the potions of the Forge Father's priests, but the two who had been brought back from the brink of death were fatigued, for all that the physical wounds were closed and merely fresh, white scars. Jeria ranged forth, not far, but enough to get the sense that there was something else in the area. He knew they could not move on until D'Fir and Gyv were improved, but each hour pushed him further, increased the tension he felt.
In that time Sister Egrit and D’Fir started to come to some sort of accord. They talked long of philosophy, and D’Fir was astounded at the depth of knowledge the woman showed. The more they interacted, the more he suspected she was more than she seemed. On her part, Sister Egrit had evidently decided to be more tolerant, less outspoken on the merits of magic versus technology. The arguments topped, and peace was more common around the campfire.
Mekior and Gyv took themselves off to the side, still with the others, but far enough away that they had the illusion of privacy. On their part, the rest of the group allowed them the illusion, not doing anything blatant to interrupt the couples renewed love.
Neither Gyv nor D’Fir made for good patients; both were too used to physical activity, too used to an active existence to remain bed bound for any length of time. Even as the magic of the potions sapped their waking strength to heal them, they fought against their confinement. D’Fir rose, trying simple training exercises with his axe, and cursing his weakened state. Gyv saw his inability, and tried a few exercises herself, before giving in to the fact that her body needed the enforced rest.
After two days, D’Fir and Gyv had recovered enough that they could start moving again, Jeria felt relieved to finally vacate the area. His relief was short lived; tell tale signs along their path showing that a group of something had been along this path. A glance at Gyv, and a quick nod from her and he knew she had seen the same signs. Jeria dropped back, allowing the group to catch up, and form a cohesive whole. At least one positive thing had come from their last near death encounter, the bickering and arguing had stopped.
"There is something down this way. I don't know what, but my best estimate is that there are at least seven of them. Proceed with caution; our last encounter was almost fatal." Jeria kept his voice low, not wanting to be overheard, worried about what might be ahead.
They continued down the path, Jeria and Gyv continuously picking up the signs of those that had gone ahead. Jeria held up a hand, bringing the group to a halt as he knelt, examining the trail that ran along theirs.
"They doubled back! They are behind us and don't need lanterns. It is fiends, or at least their creatures that are stalking us."
As if his words were a signal to hidden watchers, arrows shot out, four of them ripping into Sister Egrit, her eyes glazing over, death almost instantaneous from the cruel barbs and dark, mouldy paste that coated the arrowheads. D'Fir immediately charged towards the source, running straight into a wall of fire that sprang up between him and the group of small humanoids that had appeared, their cloak of invisibility dissipating as they initiated their attack.
He was burnt, blistered; his skin and armour covered in a layer of carbon that gave him the appearance of someone that had been in the fields fighting fires for weeks on end, yet D'Fir still swung his axe, the dull grey blade of cold iron, with inlaid runes of silvery tracings, cutting into an armour clad, dragon-like creatures. The massive, powerful strokes sent innards flying and blood coating both him and the creature’s companions.
Gyv drew her sword, wondering how she would reach the creature; one arrow had burnt up as it sped towards them, the wall of flame an effective defence against the wooden projectiles. Jeria laughed, manic glee in his voice as he bounded through the flames, his red skin reflecting the flames, his fiendish blood yet again a boon when fighting their creatures. And Mekior, he stood indecision gutting him. Yet again he could help his friends, if he revealed his nature, and yet again he did not feel strong enough to do so.
Five of the creatures moved forward, three closing in on D'Fir, two moving towards Jeria. The last stood behind them, their movements shielding her as her voice rang out, clearly; harsh syllables in the fiendish tongue framing an invocation to the Dark Powers that ruled in the realms beyond the perceptions of mere mortals.
The first of the creatures swung a halberd forward, chopping at D'Firs feet, while another swung high, cutting at his head. D'Fir had no choice but to move backwards, closer to the heat emanating from the wall of flame. Pain smote at him, radiating out from all his extremities, burnt and blistered from his trip through the flames. D'Firs eyes darted around, seeking an escape, succour from the flames that were all too close. He spun, astoundingly fast since the mere effort to move was an exercise in concentration and pain control. As he spun, his axe flashed, chopping the head from a halberd extended and not withdrawn fast enough, and the sharp point from the haft following through, flaying the skin from the face of the creature, crushing in bits of its skull along the way. His spin sent him crashing into the third creature that had not yet attacked, sending it flying, with its halberd landing up on the floor, its head smashing into the rocks nearby. For all his speed and skill though, the third halberd found him, cut into his shoulder. It was no more than a flesh wound, yet the poison on the weapon worked fast, sending his head reeling, his breathe coming in ragged gasps. Unable to concentrate, to focus, leaving him open to the sharp dagger point at the tip of the halberd, disembowelling him, cutting him open from groin to neck.
Jeria did not see the heroic fall of D'Fir, as the twin halberds of his enemies causing him to act defensively, and his axe worked to keep their blades away from him. Above him, the seventh of the creatures completed its invocation, and a swirl of darkness indicated a portal about to open.
Unbelievably, D'Fir moved; all but dead, he held the potion from his pack to his lips, healing his wounds. He stayed still, not wanting to attract attention, but the creatures ignored him and thus presented him with an opportunity he could not forgo. Slowly he rose, his head reeling, breathing shallow and laboured yet the worst effects of the poison seemed to be wearing off, the intense drowsiness of the healing potion fighting to overcome his senses and send him to oblivion. His axe swung through the portal, dissecting the doorway, the enchantment and cold iron of his axe enough to disrupt the magic and send it crashing, the portal never completed. The mage turned to D'Fir, eyes burning, her mouth already forming another incantation.
Nearby Jeria finally made his move, his foot stamped down on a halberd blade as it chopped at him, trapping the weapon, while his axe spun out in the other direction, decapitating the creature wielding the second halberd. From the corner of his eye, he saw the mage start her invocation, the dire situation that D'Fir was in. Yet even as he started to move to save him, a dagger flew through the wall of flame, piercing the mages throat, laying it open to send blood spiralling into the air.
With the mage’s death the wall of flame dissipated and the sole remaining creature stood looking at them, disarmed and fearful for its life. Jeria looked at Gyv, and the slight shake of her head as she knelt over Sister Egrit enough for him to know that they had lost one of their own. Her face stoic Gyv went to the mage, retrieved her dagger, and looked at D'Fir.
"How are you doing over there? Looked to me like you were a goner?"
"I'm fine, thanks to my uncle's foresight in packing in those potions. Sadly, not even his potions will help Sister Egrit." D'Fir stood, and went to the corpse of Sister Egrit. He was there for but a short time when his face reflected bafflement, then wonder.
"She's alive!" The others looked at him unbelieving. "Its true, her wounds are knitting, and the poison is pooling outside her body." D'Fir watched, seeing how the scars on her arms danced, lit up individually and then faded into quiescence. Sister Egrit's body lay there whole, her breathing coming slowly, but steadily.
Mekior stepped forward and took the last creature by its throat, his gauntleted fist squeezing its throat, and then releasing it, dropping it to the ground. "Some answers please, or next time I don't stop until you tongue hangs blue from your mouth. Who are you, what are you, and why are you here?"
) .
Me, I'm a great fam of your story hours, Grummok especially (what can i say, that gargoyle of yours is sucha sweetie. 
)![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
