The Sundered Arms

THE BURIED FOREST

At Tordek's suggestion, Lidda crept back to close and jam shut the secret door. While the halfling worked, the other three crawled more than twenty feet into the passage before finding a chamber large enough to shelter them all together. The smooth, regular lines of dwarven chisels gave way to a cool, damp chamber shaped by eons of trickling water. A natural passage continued to bore deeper into the mountain, but they paused to tend to injuries.

While he could see perfectly well, albeit in shades of black and white, Tordek drew his magical torch from the black cloth that hid its continual flame's enchantment. Lidda had already struck a sunrod, filling the small cavern with golden light, but Tordek knew it always paid to have a second source of light. Even a few seconds of blindness could mean the difference between life and death in the subterranean world, especially one shared with fiends and gods-knew-what-else.

Vadania's injury had swollen so horribly that she had to slit the side of her trousers lest it burst. The wound was scarlet against her white flesh, even after she cast a spell to cure the injury. The effort exhausted her strength, and her muscles were beginning to seize up in paralytic convulsions.

"It's infected," said Lidda. She drew a dagger and sighed. "That leg's going to have to come off."

"Keep her away from me," said the elf.

"Some people!" said Lidda, sheathing her blade. "Try to raise their spirits with a little levity."

"I thought it was funny," said Devis.

"Yeah?" said Lidda, brightening as she sidled up to the half-elf. "I hear you were daring out there."

"Stand back, both of you," said Tordek. He knelt beside the injured druid.

He already regretted his earlier praise for Devis, and he suspected the bard had somehow tricked him into it. The scamp was already contaminating Lidda with his childishness. In the months she had spent with Tordek, the halfling rogue had never been a liability in a dangerous spot. She might make a snappy remark now and then, but she was never so easily distracted when there was serious work at hand. Now Tordek was beginning to wonder whether he could rely on either of them.

"Do you have anything for it?" He wished he had more than a cool splash of water to offer. Despite years in battle, he never learned more healing than the simple tasks of binding wounds and splinting broken limbs.

"Devis already tried one of his spells," she said. "Here, take off this pack. Find the scrolls inside."

Tordek did as she bade, digging through pouches of trail rations, leaves, little clay pots, a soft bag of some squishy substance, and other odds and ends before finding three leaves of parchment rolled around a sunrod. He showed them to her, and she chose one. Tordek held his torch up to illuminate the page as she intoned the healing magic. Together they watched as its soothing power ran through Vadania's hand and into the festering wound. Instantly, the ruddy stain of poison faded, and the swollen flesh became smooth and healthy once again.

"Still hurt?" he asked.

"Not a bit," she said, "but I feel a little stiff. Maybe you or Lidda should lead the way in."

"You keep an eye on the bard," said Tordek. "He's liable to try something 'daring.'"

Vadania smiled. When she saw that Tordek was still scowling, she wiped the expression from her face and nodded.

They followed the passage deeper into the bedrock, finding only scant clues that the place was ever inhabited. A few rusty torch clasps slowly crumbled away from their sockets in the limestone walls, and twice they walked through tunnels scarred by the chisels that opened them wide enough for dwarven shoulders to pass.

Patches of shelf fungus and fuzzy mold covered the damp stone here and there. As they descended below the river's level the rocky floor gave way to great swathes of soft earth in which an increasing array of subterranean life flourished. There were tiny button mushrooms, mushrooms with bright red caps, mushrooms that grew over one another like ripples in a rain-spattered pond. Mushrooms grew underfoot, on the walls, and even on the ceiling in a few places. Some were squat and wide as lily pads, while a few rose taller than Lidda.

"Can we eat these?" she asked, crouching beneath one huge, pink and violet specimen as if it were a parasol.

"No," replied Vadania. "If you stand there much longer, it might eat you."

Lidda threw herself to the floor and rolled away in a hasty, graceless escape. She crouched there with her short sword drawn, watching for any sign that the giant mushroom might follow her.

"Just kidding," said Vadania.

"What?" Lidda turned on the druid, yellow rage in her eyes.

"Some people," Vadania said, not quite mimicking Lidda's usually cheerful voice. "A little levity."

Lidda stared at the druid, her expression twitching between real anger and surprise. She decided on pouting indignation when Tordek's deep chuckle escaped the shelter of his big red beard.

"Funny," he observed.

Lidda looked to Devis for support, but he was pressing a hand to his flat belly and bracing himself against the wall to keep from laughing aloud.

"That's enough," said Tordek. "Some of this stuff could be dangerous. Andaron's people undoubtedly cultivated this area, but in the years since the place was abandoned, who knows what degenerate strains have crept in."

"True," agreed Vadania. "I'll jest no more about the fungus. Some of it can be quite deadly. Don't eat any unless I've seen it first, and don't poke any of the large ones."

As they pushed deeper into the caverns, they found fewer clear paths through the fungus, and Lidda led them carefully around the more sinister-looking specimens. Once they spotted a sudden movement among a stand of tall, white stalks with puff-balls for heads. They crouched low and watched, momentarily sheltering their light, but whatever crawled through the soft fronds did not stir again. They resumed their explorations with weapons in hand.

The mushroom grottoes extended in all directions, each new cavern revealing two or three more passages leading to still more fungus-filled chambers. Through two of them ran a clean stream that Tordek estimated branched off from the untainted portion of the river outside. Near the bottom of the clear water they spied a few crawfish and an eyeless, pale gray eel coursing downstream.

"There," said Lidda, pointing at a spot just beyond their light. "Some chambers carved into the rock, behind that ridge of orange fungus."

After Vadania's guess that the brilliant, fan-shaped stuff was harmless, Tordek hacked a path through it and they peered into the chambers beyond. They were simple, cubical rooms upon whose black hinges still hung a few scraps of rotten wood. Inside, where mold had not grown into great mounds, they found little more than a stone trough in each of the four identical rooms. In one they found the white ribcage of a huge, long-bodied lizard half-buried in yellow mold. Vadania immediately warned everyone to stay well away from the powdery stuff.

"We're in the kennels," declared Tordek. "Keep searching."

Soon they found a stairway cut into the living rock. Its steps were blue with some slick, mossy growth that made Vadania shrug when Lidda asked whether it was safe.

"Don't we want to go up?" said Devis. "I thought the forge would be higher. Drier."

Tordek grunted an affirmative. "Let's search a while longer for another passage. If we don't find anything leading up, then down we go."

Half an hour later, they gave up their search for an alternative passage and turned back toward the overgrown staircase. If there was another egress, it had to be completely smothered by fungus or mold, and none of them wished to poke too deeply into the subterranean forest.

Before they reached their destination, a distant cry echoed through the caverns behind them. A jabber of goblin voices responded, and soon there followed a clamor of jostled armor, dire curses, and shouts for help from someone decidedly not a goblin.

"That's a dwarf they have!" said Tordek. He hustled toward the voices, and the others followed close behind. The sounds led them to a cavern choked with fungal growth, one they had skirted earlier because of its particularly foul stench and lack of a clear path.

"Cover the lights," he whispered, shoving his everburning torch into its shroud. Lidda did the same with her sunrod. In the resulting gloom, they all saw the crescent of light opening twenty feet above their heads. It had not been obvious on their earlier passage, but now they saw a small square of worked stone amid the natural stone of the ceiling.

The crescent soon became a circle through which they spied a struggle of ruddy goblin limbs and the bigger but outnumbered figure of an old dwarf with a long, snowy beard. The scuffle was brief, abruptly punctuated by the sound of a truncheon rapping against the dwarf's skull. The goblins chortled as they dropped the limp body through the hole, and they watched as it struck the dense fungus below and sent waves through the nearby fronds.

Tordek lurched toward the fallen dwarf, but Vadania held him back.

"Wait," she whispered.

Light from the goblins' torches illuminated the point where the dwarf had fallen. Tordek marked it and crouched impatiently. Even as the initial disturbance subsided, he saw two new waves form in the fungal growth. A fan of writhing tentacles rose briefly above the mushroom caps to taste the scent of the fallen dwarf before homing in on his location. He caught a glimpse of vivid, green flesh as some huge, wormlike body passed through the fungal trees.

The goblins cackled gleefully until one of them cracked a lash and scolded the others. Grumbling, they replaced the cover to the oubliette.

Tordek rushed forward. He drew out his everburning torch and stuck it in his shield hand, his right moving to unsling his war axe. After ten paces, he had to hack his way through huge stalks of mushrooms but still he plunged forward, for every step a stroke of his blade to clear the path. With every yard he gained, he saw the carrion crawlers move closer to the dwarf who lay motionless beneath the oubliette hatch.

Vadania ran past Tordek, seemingly unhindered by the thick barrier. Where her slender form slipped through the stalks, she left no sign of her passage. As she reached the gray-bearded dwarf, a prayer to nature was already on her lips. She knelt and pressed one hand flat on the dwarf's chest while holding her scimitar defensively above her head. It was a useless gesture, since her curing spell demanded her concentration.

Tordek saw that one of the crawlers would be on her before he could intercept it. He shouted a warning and hewed furiously, barely speeding his progress. Behind him came the twang of Lidda's bowstring, but her arrow sank into a thick black mushroom cap as big as an ogre's shield, never reaching its intended target. Near her, the bard sang a couplet:

When off to fight my dearest girl goes,

She stalks her prey on kitty-cat toes!

Tordek clenched his jaw and hoped that was a spell and not some damned silly flirtation. He sliced away another massive stalk and clambered over the stump. In just a few more steps, he could stand over the fallen dwarf and Vadania, shielding them from the crawlers.

Unfortunately, he was out of time. Even as the druid completed her spell, eight writhing tendrils curled over her blade and reached for her unprotected face. She ducked her head, and two of the intruding members recoiled with her headpiece in their grip. Another three clung to her silver hair, but three more found her flesh and stroked her bare skin. Where they touched, they left yellow trails of slime.

"Gah!" Vadania retched at the disgusting feeling. She rose to a crouch and slashed at the tendrils, barely slapping them before her limbs seized up in a paralytic rictus.

"Yes!" cried Lidda as her next arrow flew neatly between the obscuring fungus and punched deep into the worm's side. It shrieked and champed its huge jaws, stretching its cruel mandibles wide enough to grasp Vadania around the waist. The monster reared up, revealing dozens of tiny claws on either side of its segmented belly. Dark ichor spurted from the wound, and Tordek noted that the thing was green on the inside, too.

Devis was already crooning another spell, but Tordek paid no heed to the words. At last he was close enough to strike. With obstructions to either side, he had no choice but to raise his axe in an overhead arc. His blade cut through the creature's gummy hide and drew a dark, green line down its pale belly. Its final scream was a breathy spray that wet Tordek's face and beard as the monster fell down onto him. Clamping his lips tightly shut against the foul mess, he braced both hands upon his axe and used it to push the stinking carcass to the side.

Spitting, he turned just in time to see the second crawler arrive. Devis was already there, the faint shimmering of his mage armor surrounding his body. He thrust cautiously with his longsword, trying to keep the monster at bay. The worm hissed furiously, its poisoned tendrils wriggling in a fan beneath its huge jaws. Its eyestalks were perfectly erect, craning to spy the body of its mate.

Tordek stepped over the fallen dwarf and the paralyzed Vadania. He felt bones crunch under the soles of his boots and almost tripped. A mighty chop at the furious worm severed two of its tendrils as they slipped down to snatch at the dwarf's legs. A few more stuck, and he felt their brief tug at his armored legs.

Lidda put another arrow in the beast's flank. Devis drew a dark slash along its skull, right between the eyestalks. The crawler lunged for him, and the half-elf stepped deftly aside. The attack brought the creature's head well past Tordek's blade, and the result was inevitable.

The axe swung down and bit halfway through the monster's neck. With another powerful chop, Tordek severed its head from its nine-foot body.

Lidda climbed to the top of a nearby mushroom to look out for further attacks. Devis stabbed his sword into the ground and knelt beside Vadania, who gagged pitifully beside the corpse of the first crawler. Its spilled guts smelled revolting.

"You thought they smelled bad on the outside," quipped Devis, smiling down at her as he held up her head and carefully wiped away the slime on her face. He moved her gently off the fallen dwarf and tried making her comfortable while the effects of the paralysis wore off.

Tordek knelt beside the graybeard. The old dwarf was breathing, but just barely. Vadania's quick action had undoubtedly saved his life, but if he did not receive more help soon, he would not live to thank her. Tordek said as much to Devis, who nodded and reluctantly left Vadania's side. Again he sang as his hand made a theatrical flourish over the graybeard's face and chest:

Sinew knit and flesh restore,

Render this poor fellow whole.

A rosy glow briefly suffused the dwarf's face, and the bruises on his forehead faded with the light.

"That doesn't rhyme," commented Lidda from her perch.

"It's known as near rhyme to those of us in the arts," said Devis. "Anyway, it works."

"Calls himself a bard," snorted Lidda. She kept scanning the surrounding darkness and glanced frequently at the portal above.

The dwarf shifted and snuffled then blinked.

"You are safe, grandfather," Tordek said in the dwarven tongue. He offered the graybeard his waterskin. The old dwarf took a long look at Tordek's face. He looked around at the others and seemed satisfied that it was a rescue, not a ruse.

"I am Karnoth of Oak Dale," he replied in the same language. "Son of Brandok Iron-Monger, grandson of Helsa of the Flaxen Hair."

Tordek introduced himself and his companions using the Common tongue.

"Why have you come to Andaron's Delve?" asked Karnoth. Lidda and Devis bristled at his suspicious tone, but Tordek liked the dwarf's reticence. It was wise.

"Not to stoke ancient curses," said Tordek, "but to stop those who would."

The gray-bearded dwarf nodded his approval. "I will help you as I am able."

"Tell us how you came here."

Karnoth's tale was not surprising to those who had heard the tale of Croaker Norge. More than a month earlier, insect-riding goblins and powerful monsters attacked his village. They captured as many able-bodied workers as they had shackles to bind them, slaying the rest along with the children and the infirm. Retired from the smithy for decades, Karnoth had been sure he would be murdered, but when the goblins learned that he was a blacksmith, they spared his life. After the long march from their ruined homes, the predominantly human survivors passed through an excavation on the top of Jorgund Peak and descended into Andaron's Delve. On the way down, they passed a small army of goblins reinforced by giants and eventually joined dozens of other captives.

Vadania stirred, and Devis was at her side, helping her to sit up.

"Why did they throw you down here?"

"I refused to work," said Karnoth. "Some of the others did the same, but the goblins were crafty enough to capture at least one member of each smith's family. Those who refused to work watched their sons and daughters tormented to death then thrown down into this pit."

He said nothing else for a minute, and Tordek looked away out of respect for what Karnoth was leaving unsaid.

"Didn't they have any of your family?" asked Lidda at last.

Tordek silently cursed her inquisitive little heart, but in truth he too wondered about that question.

"My grandson," said Karnoth. "He was a valuable dwarf."

Tordek thought about the bones he had trod upon earlier and understood the full meaning of Karnoth's term, even in the Common tongue. Among dwarves-especially dwarven blacksmiths-"valuable" was a term exceeding even "honorable." A valuable dwarf would never consent to perform any task that would harm his kin or any other dwarven clan.

"I could not shame him by agreeing to their demands. They wished that I should ignite the dead coals within the Forge of Andaron."

"How could you do that?" asked Devis. "The stories tell that the forge was cursed to hold no fire."

"No earthly fire," corrected Karnoth. "There are dwarven ways, and I know some of them. It does not matter now. They have done what I refused to do. There is a dragon-spawn with them. He breathed into the forge and set it leaping with unholy flame. Once I saw him grasp a blade still glowing from the forge, and it did not burn him. They call him Zagreb."

"Is he the leader?" asked Tordek.

"No," said Karnoth. "He is the one who oversees the forge. He answers to an enormous goblin with skin as blue as slate. He is attended by a ghost-pale elf. I do not think she breathes. Her name is Sandrine."

"Aha!" said Devis. "That's where she went."

"There is also some little fiend who delights in tormenting the prisoners. Zagreb calls him Yupa. Whenever the imp torments the wrong prisoner to death, Zagreb threatens to feed him to something called Murdark."

"Some thing?" said Devis.

"None of us has seen it," said Karnoth. "They say it prowls the lower caverns in search of food."

"Um," said Lidda. She looked up at the unhewn stone that arched above them. Water glistened on its dark surface, and from its crags hung streaks of black and red moss like wet fur from some gargantuan animal's belly. "Aren't these the lower caverns?"

The dwarf shrugged. "I have seen only the forge and a few nearby chambers, but I think there are even greater depths to this place. I hope that is where Murdark prowls."

"Can you lead us back to the forge?" asked Tordek.

Karnoth nodded slowly. "I think so. What will you do when you reach it?"

"Do you know why they have relit the forge?" asked Tordek.

Karnoth nodded, not daring to say the truth aloud in this place. "They have begun their fell work. They kept me alive after forcing me to watch Yupa torment my grandson to death. Since then they have set me to menial chores. Because my work helped ease the suffering of my fellow captives, I obeyed. It was when I refused to work the bellows that they finally dragged me down here."

"Which of the Arms of Andaron have they brought to reforge? Is it the hammer?"

The old dwarf gaped at him. "You did not know before you came?"

"Know what?" asked Tordek.

Karnoth swallowed. "They brought them all."