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Wergild: Chapter 13: In the Seawall Mountains
Chapter 13 of a complete Eberron Novel: The adventurers travel into the mountains, in search of the tomb of Orgok's ancestor.
Chapter 13: In the Seawall Mountains
Not a moment was wasted in preparation for the expedition. Mith studied the maps of the area suspected of holding the tombs the group sought. The others gathered provisions including digging and climbing equipment.
Gad’tos met them at the gates, as they mounted their steeds. She handed a plaque to Orgok.
“Bring anything of historical relevance back with you. Place this plaque in the tomb to show that you have moved the items here for safe keeping. Be gentle with the artifacts you find, Orgok. They are our very history, and perhaps now you appreciate how important that history is.”
Orgok nodded, and pulled the reins on his steed.
“And Orgok, be careful. The tombs of our ancestors were made to prevent grave robbers from doing what you’re attempting to do.”
“Thanks,” he said flippantly before spurring his mount on.
The day passed in slow progression as Mith led the journey deeper into the mountains, first climbing to new heights, then descending into valleys. At frequent intervals, Mith stopped to examine the ground, checking for signs of passage. They’d passed beyond the reach of any road, and the trails were largely the work of native wildlife. Mith would occasionally point out a ram standing on the steep cliffs.
The light lingered long after the sun passed behind the mountains. After a good deal of searching, the company found a small overhang of rock large enough to camp under. Orgok arranged the tents to hang down from the overhang, blocking the light of the campfire. He hoped that would prevent unwanted visitors from being attracted to the light of their fire. The night would be too cold to go without one.
Huddled around the campfire, the five companions sat quietly, until Tef finally broke the silence.
“Whose territory are we in now?”
“This is the home of the Marguul clan, the highlanders. I come from the Ghaal’dar, the lowlanders. The wordbearers are part of the Dhakaani, those under the mountain. In each tribe, there are many clans. Many of those clan chieftains follow the rule of the Lhesh Haruuk. Many don’t. All I can say for certain is that we will probably be very unwelcome if we’re discovered.”
“Cheery,” Brig noted.
Despite their unease, the night passed, revealing a brilliant clear blue sky in the morning. The procession got under way again. Most of the day was spent traveling up the next ridge. Bare granite stone met the hooves of the horses, and at higher elevations, the evergreens gave way to low scrub bushes that seemed to have only a tenuous hold in the thin soil. By the late afternoon, they’d crossed over the highest point in the saddle between peaks and were headed down into the next valley. The verdant green of the valley was crystal clear in the thin mountain air. The valley looked long and thin from their vantage point at the far northern end, looking south along the valley’s length. At the bottom of the valley was a small crystal blue lake.
Mith pointed toward the south end, which seemed to end in a steep canyon.
“That’s our destination.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem so far off,” Murias said cheerily.
“It’s still thirty miles as the crow flies. The clear mountain air can make judging distance very hard.”
Murias’eyebrows rose erratically, finally settling on a look of surprise. Brig, as usual, found the look amusing.
As the day passed, Mith spent more and more of his time dismounted, examining the ground for signs of passage. He brought the procession to a stop, and stared down. He moved a little off of the trail the group followed. Orgok dismounted, and joined him.
“What are you looking at there, Mith?”
“A bear track. Look at the size of it, though.” Mith said with clear surprise in his voice.
Orgok got a strange feeling whenever Mith emoted. It unsettled him. He looked down to where the warforged held his three digit hand in the track, which would span the width of Mith’s chest.
“That’s the biggest grisly I’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t think it’s a big grisly. I think it’s a young dire bear. We need to proceed with caution, and maybe we’d be better off not cooking any food this evening. It might be attracted by the smell.”
They proceeded cautiously into the late afternoon before settling on a campsite.
“We’re not going to be able to hide the campfire tonight,” Mith said to the gathering.
“Well, Orgok and I will take turns standing watch with you, Mith,” Brig said. “It’ll insure that someone with good night vision is on watch.”
The night grew dark, and cold set in with the strong winds and cloudless sky. Three moons hung in the sky, their light just bright enough to make out the distant mountains against the star field.
Brig awoke to the heel of Orgok’s boot in his ribs.
“Get up, Brig. Get up fast,” Orgok demanded.
The dwarf rolled to his knees and sprang to his feet, with crossbow in hand. The Tef was standing with bow ready, and Murias was struggling into his cumbersome armor. Besides the rustling of the trees, Brig could hear the uneasy cries of the horses, and understood why. Occasional sounds of crushing undergrowth and growling breaths immerged from the darkness of the forest. Even the dwarf’s keen eyes couldn’t see the beast. The great bear stood well beyond the firelight. Brig assumed it was the fire keeping it from coming closer. His heart leapt when the light reflected in the huge eyes of the beast. It seemed to be more than ten feet tall at the shoulder. It huffed and paused and growled.
Mith moved to the fire and withdrew a flaming branch.
“I’m going to try to dissuade it from coming closer.”
“Mith, wait,” Orgok ordered. “Brig, flank left. Tef, flank right. Keep those weapons at the ready.”
Murias drew his sword and moved beside Orgok, who stood just behind Mith, and moved with him forward. As the group moved cautiously forward, with Mith in the lead, the bear came into view. Its body was ragged looking as the winter coat was shedding away in clumps. It looked much like any other bear Brig had ever seen, but was much larger, and seemed more ancient in design, more feral. It had a long turf of fur off of its chin, like a goatee, and at the back of its jaw were bony protrusions. The ears were small and almost buried in the thick fur around its neck. The pelt was dark brown, with two wide honey colored stripes running along the back from ears to tail.
It paces back and forth, seeming unwilling to give up food to smaller adversaries. It turned with startling speed toward Brig and lunged forward. Brig’s instinct to release the crossbow bolt proved unwise. The shaft struck true but only angered the huge beast.
The bear’s maw came forward, and Brig threw his left arm up to shield him from the bite. The massive teeth snapped down on his arm and blinding agony shot through Brig as the bones shattered. The beast shook violently from side to side, and Brig felt the world rush away.
Murias lunged toward the bear, chanting. He just caught the heel of the dwarf as he was swung overhead. The power of the spell flowed into the dwarf, and unconsciousness receded, although he wished it hadn’t.
Tef launched her arrow into the beast’s rear haunch, with a muffled twang. Orgok sliced at the face of the bear, hoping to get it to release his friend. Mith drove the flaming wood into the bears face as well.
The bear growled and slobbered, but kept its hold on Brig.
The dwarf dangled with his left forearm and hand in the mouth of a terrifying monster. He fumbled with his free hand, pulling a flask from his belt and heaving it into the face of the beast. The clay vessel shattered. Thick red liquid smeared the animal’s fur and splashed into its eye. It recoiled and roared, releasing Brig, who fell to the ground, and came to a stop on his back, staring up at the monster. The beast’s roars shook the chests of those listening, echoing in the night. It frantically backpedaled and thrashed its head side to side.
Murias was at the dwarf’s side instantly, sword raised to defend if need be, and again creating the healing aura that repaired the remaining wounds in his comrade.
Brig sat up, shivering from the fear of the encounter. He wiped the sweat from his face with shaking hand, while staring at the saliva covered left arm, now unmarred through the grace of the Sovereign Host.
“What was that alchemy you used against the bear?” Murias marveled. “It worked wonders.”
“Something I got from the hobgoblins. It’s a mash of fire ants in vinegar.”
The other companions stared at him in awe.
“What? I like it on my potatoes.”
The night wore on, and Brig stood vigilant watch against the return of the dire bear. As the light of dawn grew, he nodded, sitting half-asleep against a tree. He awoke with a start at the sound of a breaking branch, and cold fear coursed through him. Frantically he searched for the source of the sound, only to find Mith holding gathered deadwood, tending the fire.
“Are you all right?” Mith asked.
“Yeah,” Brig said, eyes still searching the deep woods for the terrifying bear. “Why’d you let me fall asleep?”
“You were injured, and I thought you could use the rest.”
Brig nodded, finding a seat by the fire.
“I think the bear was after the horses. Not you,” Mith observed.
“Well, I still might have to wash my shorts out from that encounter last night,” Brig said, regaining a bit of his characteristic humor.
Mith looked at him, waiting for the statement to continue, so that it might make sense to him.
As the sun rose, the travelers did as well. Sitting around the campfire in the chilly morning air, they ate their breakfast cold.
Tef chewed a handful of roasted nuts, and held a strip of the leathery dinosaur meat, eyeing it suspiciously. She bit into the meat and wrestled to pull a piece free from the strip.
Orgok and Brig had begun to find amusement in watching her try new foods. They eagerly watched her reaction.
Her face faded from a look of curiosity. It grew pallid and her eyes began to tear. She pulled the bit of meat from her mouth with her fingers, and began to tremble.
Brig’s amusement melted into concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“Excuse me,” Tef said distantly, standing and running off into the woods.
“What did you do to that poor girl?” Murias said, his voice booming.
“Nothing,” Orgok replied, handing Murias the meat for inspection. “Here, try it yourself. Mith smoked this stuff himself. We’ve been eating it for over a month. Salted and smoked. It should stay good for months. And I checked to make sure it didn’t have any green fuzz.”
Murias ripped a piece away and chewed the fibrous flesh. It was no masterpiece of cooking, but was as good as anything else the trail had to offer.
Tef returned, pale and teary.
“What was that?” she demanded.
“Dinosaur. It’s thigh meat from a clawfoot,” Mith explained.
“Why is it red meat, if it’s dinosaur?” she pressed.
“Dinosaurs have white meat, but the running predators have red meat in the thighs. I’m sorry it’s not to your satisfaction. I’ll try harder in the future to make more palatable fare.”
Tef looked at the group, confused. Finally she wiped away her tears, but remained silent through the morning.
Her odd reaction left the group stunned, and they traveled in uncomfortable silence through much of the day.
Mith plotted a path to the lake, and followed a small river along the valley toward the southern end. The day was a quick descent to the lake, and a slow ascent back up the valley. By mid afternoon, they found themselves on an unmistakable path, cleared of trees and other obstructions. The path crossed several other trails before leading into a small village. It was a primitive looking community, with crude longhouses made of roughly fashioned native trees. Strips of bark were woven into roofs, and the entire surfaces were coated in pine pitch to keep out rain. As they moved into the silent little village, a feeling of uneasiness passed among them. Mith moved ahead, bow at the ready. Finally, near a fire pit, he saw the skeletal remains of a humanoid.
“Over here,” he said softly.
The others gathered to examine the remains, well cleaned by carrion eaters and insects. Orgok looked around the settlement.
“This looks like two clans at war. Nothing for us to see here. Let’s get moving.”
“Shouldn’t we search the place?” Brig asked. “There might be something the attackers missed.”
“Maybe on the way back. Come on.”
The ascent along the stream wore on through the remaining hours of daylight. The established trail finally faltered, once again leaving nothing but deer trails to follow. The night proved somewhat warmer than the previous night, with the cover of clouds retaining some of the day’s heat. A light rain turned to small snowflakes, dusting the area by dawn. The light of morning burned away what little snow had stuck, and by mid morning, only small white patches remained in the shadows of trees, and on the steep slopes of the eastern side of the valley, where the sun had not yet fallen.
By noon, the company stared at the canyon of granite just ahead. It towered hundreds of feet over their heads. The stream leading out of it left plenty of room along the eastern side for foot traffic.
“If there’s a flash flood, we’ll die,” Orgok observed, his voice echoed off the cold stone.
“True,” Mith replied, just ahead of the hobgoblin.
An hour of slow, careful travel passed before Mith dismounted, and began picking at his gear.
“Here we are.”
The others looked around, seeing nothing to indicate the opening of a tomb.
“Where are we going?” Brig asked.
Mith pointed upward. Nearly two hundred feet above them was a single square hole in the rock face.
“How are we going to get up there?” Orgok asked, growing angry.
Mith slung several coils of rope over his shoulder, tied a bag of spikes to his belt, and slid a hammer in on the other side.
He stood back, studying the surface, and finally picked a crack along the stone, which ran nearly a hundred feet up at an angle. He wedged his fingers into the crack, and started climbing. He stopped at thirty feet up, pounded in a spike, and affixed the rope, with himself attached. His next ascent took him an additional twenty feet.
“He climbs like a little metal monkey,” Brig said softly to Orgok.
“Yeah. Glad you dug him out of the sand. You’re usefulness occasionally outweighs your smell.”
Tef looked over at the pair, and shook her head, wondering how the unlikely couple had managed to come together.
Three minutes passed, with several aborted attempts by Mith to continue the ascent.
“That’s just got to be exhausting work,” Murias observed.
“Not for Mith. He’s warforged. As long as he doesn’t come crashing down, He’ll keep at it,” Brig said, smiling. “In that respect, they’re perfect.”
After another minute, Mith had ascended past an obviously difficult section, and was underway again. At about halfway to the destination, Mith drove the third spike. In a bit of a surprise to the others, he then repelled down the rope about twenty feet. He used the rope to start swinging, finally catching his hand on a ledge twenty feet from the crack he’d used. He drove another spike, pulled the cleverly tied knot, releasing the rope from the previous spike, secured it to the new anchor, and continued his ascent.
“He’s really amazing,” Tef said, watching the slow process.
Another five minutes passed, as the warforged continued his slow climb. At long last, he disappeared, along with the ropes, into the hole far above their heads. Orgok had wondered how tight a squeeze it would be, but saw once Mith was actually standing in the hole, that it was easily several heads taller than the warforged. They could hear the ringing of another spike being pounded into place, over the sounds of the water rushing past beside them.
“I guess we leave the horses down here,” Orgok said.
“I was just going to throw mine over my back and go hand over hand up the rope,” Brig said in jest.
The long coils of rope fell back toward the group, now anchored somewhere in the hole. Mith’s metal head peaked out again.
“Please affix the rope to Murias. I will bring him up first.”
“Why Murias?” Orgok bellowed.
“Because he will be the most assistance in bringing everyone else up. He is the most robust of us.”
Orgok was in no position to argue that point. The priest looked like he could twist another man’s head of with his bare hands.
Murias climbed into the triple looped ring of rope, using it like a seat. The first heave lifted Murias about eight inches. There was a pause of a few seconds before the next. The priest took a nervous breath. It was going to be a slow trip up. Minutes passed, and the group below grew smaller. Murias could feel a tightening in his stomach. A fall from this height, onto the cold granite, would kill the stoutest warrior. At every creak and groan of the rope, he could feel his pulse quicken. At great length, he was heaved onto the ledge Mith occupied. It was only about ten feet deep. At the back was what appeared to be two stone doors, but there were no handles or hinges visible.
Murias stood up and climbed out of the harness. He began chanting as Mith tossed the harness back toward the bottom of the crevasse. Once completed, he looked down, where Orgok slid into the harness. Mith took the rope again.
“The strength of Dol Dorn now fills me. How about you just anchor me?” Murias offered, gently pushing the warforged aside.
He grabbed the rope, and began pulling it smoothly from one hand to the next. Mith, who had used the spike to anchor the rope as he pulled it, was unable to keep up with the priest’s pace, and instead lay back, with his foot against the spike, holding the back of the rope, taking it in as Murias hauled up the warrior.
With Orgok safely on the small landing, Murias began pulling up Brig. After minutes, Tef had joined the group, now snugly nestled in the small opening.
Brig stared at the back wall. He found himself unable to determine the means of entry. Tef joined him, and for some time, the two debated how to get past the entrance.
Murias stretched his well used muscles, and listened to the wind howl through the canyon.
“I hope no one messes with our horses while we’re in there,” Orgok said, looking uneasily over the ledge at their beasts of burden far below.
“There’s not much we can do about it from here, though” Mith said.
Brig interrupted from the back of the artificial cave.
“I think we’re going to have to dig our way in.”
“How long is that going to take?” Orgok asked.
“Depends on how thick this stone is.”
Brig tapped the wall with a hammer, while his ear was pressed against it.
“Might only be three inches.”
“I guess we need to just get to it, then,” Orgok cursed, taking a hammer and chisel out.
Ten deafening minutes passed before a hand sized hole was cleared. Brig felt around in the cold air of the chamber beyond, unable to find any mechanisms. Tef nudged him, offering a leather roll with all manner of implements inside. Brig used a small mirror on a short rod to look at the door’s mechanisms. The dwarf reached down, using a piece of stiff wire and unlatched a catch at the base of the door, then pressed upward through the hole. The door scraped and came open about a quarter inch.
“Grab that,” he grunted.
Murias caught his fingers under the lip of the door, and heaved upward. Even as strong as he was, he could only lift it to waist height. Mith spiked both sides of the door quickly, ensuring it wouldn’t close. Murias released his grip, settling the stone door onto the spikes driven into the jamb.
Brig knelt, staring into the tomb. What little light fell inside revealed a magnificent chamber, about forty feet long, and thirty feet wide. On each side of the room were four large statues, aligned like giant sentinels. The brilliant paints used on the statue had not faded, protected from the elements as they had been. The style of the sculptures was vaguely reminiscent of the architecture Brig had seen in Volaar Draal.
“Are we ready to proceed?” Orgok asked, looking at his companions.
“Give me a minute” Brig said.
He turned his attention to the crossbow in his hands, beginning some enchantment. Murias turned his attention to Orgok’s blade, placing some blessing upon it, then repeated the process for Mith’s blade.
Brig slipped into the chamber. Mith was at his side. A few strides into the chamber, Brig raised a hand to halt the procession. He pointed out a stone on the floor, and marked it in chalk. He stared at the base of the statue he stood in front of. It seemed to be designed such that upon being triggered, a stone hammer would swing down into a small ceramic plaque. The plaque was engraved with arcane symbols.
“Some sort of summoning magic. Keep an eye out, people. There are traps which will conjure some foul beasts if we’re not careful.”
Murias and Orgok followed in behind Brig and Mith. Tef brought up the rear. The group moved cautiously forward, straining their senses for any sign of danger. Mith heard the soft scraping of the stone he stood on as it sank slightly, and crouched, in anticipation of attack. Nothing happened. Brig frowned and looked at the floor.
“Must have failed over the ages.”
Farther ahead, Brig triggered another floor stone, and again, nothing happened.
“I think this place has lost its potency,” Orgok observed.
The group moved less cautiously toward the doors at the far side of the chamber. Another stone gave way slightly under Mith’s feet, and it was followed immediately by metal clicks, and stone grinding as the hammers cleverly embedded in three stone bases of the statues swung free, pivoting around in an arc to smash into the green tiles traced with magic. The sound of shattering porcelain was quickly replaces by a crackling hiss.
Red mist swirled from the broken plaques, spinning in a vortex of red light, each finally coalescing into the forms of huge hounds. The three animals appeared to be a breed of war dog; huge and heavily muscled, each the size of grown men. As they formed, the adventurers could see the coats of rust red, the eyes like glowing embers. Black smoke poured from their nostrils as the exhaled, and flames crackled along their spines. Two of the hounds were in front of Brig and Mith, the third was forming next to Tef. The hounds opened their fierce mouths and vomited gouts of flame.
For a moment the chamber lit up with the red glow as fire swept down the center of the chamber in great sheets. Tef pounced first, taking cover behind a statue. Orgok and Brig ran into each other diving for cover in the same space between another statue. Mith felt the flames lick over him from one of the hounds, but managed to avoid the rest of the conflagration. Murias pressed himself against a statue’s base, and blocked the flames with his shield.
Brig targeted the hellhound in front of him, unleashing his crossbow bolt into the beast. The bolt blazed with fire, his unfortunate mistake to have picked fire to enchant his weapons before knowing they’d face such creatures.
Mith followed up against the damaged beast with a hard slash of his longsword, biting deep into the flesh of the creature’s throat. Still, the demon dog continued snarling and snapping. Orgok stepped up next to Mith, forming a defensive line, and thrust his blade at the beast.
“Mith, hold the line. Brig, get that one to our rear. Splitting our front will kill us,” Orgok barked.
Murias took a mighty swing against the hell hound, but it recoiled and tensed to spring on the priest. Tef neatly slid the blade of her rapier into the lower back of the dog.
The injured beast wheeled on Tef, snapping at her. She staggered back to the entrance of the chamber under the assault, and rolled under the partially open door.
Brig reloaded his weapon, and braced it against a statue, taking careful aim. He released the bolt, finding the back of the hound’s rear leg. It flashed him an evil look and snarled, but continued approaching Tef.
Murias lunged with his blade again, but the hound moved with frightening speed to sidestep his attack. It pressed in under the door, out into the howling wind of the small alcove.
The beast Mith wounded lunged toward him, clamping its powerful jaw on the warforged ranger’s shin. The second hound joined the assault, biting and growling.
Mith struggled against the two hounds, unable to attack effectively with his the hound nearly dragging him off his feet. Orgok slashed the wounded hound again along its side, but it continued its attack on the warforged.
Orgok was furious. The hell hounds had so far done a better job at fighting single enemies at a time than his team had.
While snapping and growling fiercely, the hounds accosting Mith were not actually injuring him greatly, thanks to his agility and fine mithral armor. He held his swing, waiting for an opening, and thrust deep into the chest of the hound gnawing his leg. It coughed a black substance Mith took to be its blood, and burst into a thousand sparks, disappearing into a small mushroom cloud of smoke.
Orgok rallied, slicing at the second hound, hoping to allow Mith a moment to regain his footing.
Tef retreated toward the edge of the alcove with the two hundred foot drop just behind her, keeping her eyes on the hell hound. It lowered itself, and sprang toward her. She dove swiftly to the side, as the hound slipped toward the edge. It clamped onto her cloak with its teeth, and slid over the edge, tearing free a second later. Tef teetered, finally sliding over the edge of the alcove, staring down at the two hundred foot fall awaiting her.
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