The
Iron Reaver had lived a long time ago. His history didn’t
really matter anymore, since all the places he once made famous were
no longer civilizations. He and his armies broke them. The old
Dwarf was a tough bastard, apparently, and ruled from his throne
city. He had some kind of engineer guild under him, and they made a
bunch of secure dungeons and cities. Brilliant work, the
secrets long buried and hidden. Exactly the kind of thing he wanted
to study. The risk of death and dismemberment is of course a
problem, but that’s the life he chose. These thrones were never
exactly the same, and many had been raided or broken down over the
years.
Dorian
Meer wanted that knowledge, how these dwarves were so effective.
They only used steel and iron, and yet their creations were
holding up to the test of time better than any Elven ruin. Of
course, he was going to allow his allies to plunder it. There was no
question on that. But he wanted the mechanisms and engineering
marvels intact. They needed to be intact. “Hey! Thurn says
we’re here.”
He
looked up, and smiled. The real reason he could even afford
this. Alexandra Heliot, whose red hair hung down her entire
back. Curvaceous and taller than him by a couple of inches, she
was a gladiator by trade. She had entered the slave arenas as a
free woman and come out the other side victorious. There were
some scars, but he didn’t seem to mind. Her popularity and
winnings had paid for this entire venture. He personally
thought it was his winning charm, but she had the winning smile.
Jarsk
Thurn, on the other hand, was a drunkard and a grave robber. Kind
of what they needed here. He was tall, dark haired, and rippled with
muscle. His job here was simple. Break down doors that no one
else could, lead them to the secret entrances. His share of the
loot from this was going to be the smallest, but the man only needed
it for drinks anyways. He had five older brothers, and yet he
was the only one ‘without an arrow in the knee’ to be able to go
with them. And yet Dorian didn’t believe that. The man
looked older than his skin. He had seen some things in these wastes,
and it was his skill that had guided them safely here so far.
“Finally!
It’s about time!” The screeching voice of their magical
expert spoke up. Lenna Shadewake, as she called herself, was
part sorceress and part rogue. Shorter than five foot, she was
often confused for a man. The pixie cut blonde hair didn’t help
with that. Lenna was his old flame, and hotly jealous of
Alexandra. She was also the only mage or
rogue that they could find willing to spend months out on this kind
of adventure. After the month and change it took to get here,
he was fairly sure that Lenna just wanted to get back at him for
breaking up with her.
“Where
is it?” Dorian asked. This landscape was confusing, covered
in mist and rather cold. Thick rocks stuck out from the mist,
and the highlands here had the shadow of what was once habitations.
Old mounds that could have been buildings lined the old road leading
into the city, but now that they were inside the place it was
impossible to tell. “All I see is mud and stone.”
“Ai.”
Thurn’s word for everything under the sun. “Over there.”
He pointed at a row of nearly identical stones running along the
road. Just like everything else around here. He stopped in
front of what was conceivable the millionth stone he had seen. “Ai.”
There was nothing here. Just a couple of mounds of stone and grass.
Yet Thurn seemed to know what he was doing. Dorian waited
patiently, as the man hammered a few stones with the backside of his
enchanted iron axe. He would pick up one featureless rock, replace
it with another, until they were in an arrangement that looked
exactly the same as it did before. “Ai!” He pronounced
gladly. Then he kicked
the middle stone.
The
entire hill before them collapsed inwards, stairs and thick iron
railings extending out of the mud like bones. Dorian leaned
forward, hearing the creaking and clanking that arose. There!
Completely hidden, yet the mechanism rose out of the mud without any
problem after what had to be hundreds of years. With a flash of
magic, the mud concealing the entrance sucked away into the walls,
revealing dark stone steps, going down into the deep. The stone was
black, almost reflective. Dorian ran his hand over it, the smooth
stone cool and comforting.
“Stay
your hand.” Lenna called. Dorian froze. “Don’t lose your
fingers.” The part-time Rogue stepped forward with a stick,
jabbing the featureless stone just inches from his hand. The
entire face of the stone rippled, as rusty needles sprayed out. A
burst of fire came from her hand, the short woman lighting up the
black stone. “Thurn, you can read the stones here, can’t
you?”
“Ai.”
The man nodded. “Don’t know the meaning but me Da showed me
all the dangerous ones. T’was before he become a stonelion.”
“Stonelion?”
Dorian asked carefully. Thurn had been mentioning creatures
that he hadn’t known about for weeks.
“Ai.”
Dorian’s least favorite word. “Big. Mean.” Durn wasn’t
overly descriptive about it. As per usual. Why did he even
bother asking him? It was just going to be some other thing that
bore no further thinking. “This stone is black iron. Won’t
break.” He tapped the walls. “No one knows how it was done.”
The
real
reason Dorian was here. He, unlike the rest of the College of
Whispers, thought that the secret to its creation lied in alchemy,
and not magic. His opinion wasn’t very popular, and if it
wasn’t for Alexandra they wouldn’t be here. “Have you heard of
any golems or native eidolons made from this?” He asked.