The quarry was a three hour walk from the village, and the light was beginning to dim by the time Orin and his group arrived. This level appeared to be in a larger cavern than the previous one, leaving them to wonder just how many farms there were, and how many delvers were working them. Gronthil had warned them earlier that the quarry was likely to be teeming with stone golems. However, when they arrived, there were none to be found.
“This is strange,” he muttered as he looked down into the empty quarry.
Terraced roads led down into a deep open pit of grey stone. Wagon cars filled with rocks lay idle on rails, and Orin frowned. “I wonder, what sort of prisoner warrants this sort of isolation?”
“I think it’s worth finding out,” Darla remarked.
“Should we wait until light before heading down?” Rus asked after stifling a yawn.
Gronthil shook his head. “We should keep moving. There are likely to be more enemies on this level and they will be looking for us once any one of them go to that village.”
“And the delvers there will have no problem telling them precisely where we’ve gone,” Orin added before setting off down into the quarry.
“What could have happened to them?” Darla wondered, not for the first time since they’d left the village. “They seemed to be prisoners yearning for rescue but refused to escape when their guards were dead.”
“Think of that as a blessing, Princess,” Gronthil said. “We could not have taken them with us.”
“It’s just so bizarre,” she breathed.
“The person we are going to see should be able to shed some light on the matter,” Rus remarked.
“I care little about that,” Orin spat.
Rus stifled another yawn. “We should look for a place to rest when we are done here.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Gronthil agreed, grabbing Darla by the arm to steady her when she stumbled. “The Princess looks exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” she protested.
“How far are we from the next level, Master Dwarf?” Rus ventured after a lengthy silence.
Gronthil shrugged before replying. “I’d say a two day march, but the portals between levels appear to have been moved…”
“How far did you get into this dungeon, anyway?” Rus asked.
“I came within sight of the castle,” Gronthil said. “My group and I were on our way back out when everything turned sour.”
“You didn’t make an attempt on the castle?” Darla asked.
The dwarf smiled and shook his head. “We knew that even after the dungeon became more benign, no one who had entered the castle ever made it back out. We weren’t keen to press our luck.”
He paused and sighed before continuing. “If only I hadn’t insisted we take our time and explore on our way out… we might have made it out before everything went south. I lost three good friends up on Forest Lake.”
“That looks like it could be what we’re looking for,” Rus breathed.
The others followed his gaze to a dome of rock lying at the bottom of the quarry. There were no openings visible on it, but a winged stone gargoyle stood perched on top of it.
“I’d be careful with your sword,” Gronthil warned when Orin quickened his pace. “I still think you should have taken that man’s hammer. We have a long way to the castle.”
“I am not proficient with blunt weapons,” Orin grunted. The truth was since he’d regained this sword… His sword, he had little interest in wielding anything else.
As they approached the dome, the gargoyle’s eyes began to glow, and its head turned to monitor the group’s progress.
“What’s the plan?” Rus breathed.
“Smash it,” Orin replied.
“Do not use your sword on this foe,” Gronthil warned as he rubbed his meaty palms togethers. “Let me strike the finishing blow.”
“If you say so,” Rus said dubiously before drawing an ice arrow.
The creature shrieked and rocketed into the air before landing with a crash in front of the group. It stood slightly taller than Gronthil did and cocked its grotesque face to the side before eyeing the warrior curiously.
“Think it recognizes you?” Darla murmured.
“Why don’t you tell it to sit?” Rus suggested.
“Stand down,” the warrior ordered.
The creature shrieked before taking to the skies. Rus cursed and fired an arrow, which clattered off its hard skin. Orin craned his neck and watched the creature climb high into the sky before folding its wings to come plummeting back to the ground.
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Not seeing any other options, Orin readied his sword as the creature swooped down on them. Behind him, Darla began to chant. A barrier of golden yellow energy shimmered into existence around them. The creature slammed into the barrier, which shattered and caused Darla to collapse in a heap.
The creature flapped its wings, but Orin was quick to pounce and caught it in a bear hug. It slashed at him with its claws that scraped the paint off his armour, but the warrior managed to wrestle it to the ground. Gronthil began to chant and leapt on the pair as they grappled. The dwarf placed his hands on the creature’s head and after a moment, it crumbled into dust, and the gargoyle went still.
“Well, that was easier than expected,” Rus remarked before checking on Darla.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Orin grumbled as he pushed the now inert stone statue aside so that he could stand.
“How is she?” Gronthil asked.
“Fine,” Darla croaked. “I just need to rest.”
“We all do,” Gronthil remarked. The dwarf dusted himself off and turned his attention over to the stone dome before them.
“Will you keep it down?” a woman’s voice groused from inside the dome. “I’m trying to sleep!”
Rus and Gronthil exchanged looks before circling the dome and coming to a stop by a steel door with barred windows.
“Old Hanley?” Rus asked.
“Who are you calling old?” she demanded. “I’m only twenty five.”
Rus blinked in surprise. “That’s what the villagers called you.”
“Well, they would think I’m old,” she sniffed. “Most of them look like they’d just let go of their mother’s skirts, but they call me that because I’ve been imprisoned here the longest.”
“They said you could tell us more about this place,” Gronthil said.
“Let me out and I will tell you all that I know,” she promised.
“You want to leave?” Rus asked incredulously.
There was a moment of silence before the woman inside the dome scoffed. “Don’t lump me in with those cowards. I’m not content to be a slave just because I’m allowed to sleep in a bed and am fed three meals a day.”
Gronthil shrugged before sliding the deadbolt aside. The metal door creaked as it swung open, and a bedraggled red haired woman walked out. She wore a stone collar around her neck and sighed when she saw the remains of the gargoyle.
“You’re going to have a hard time with the master of this level if that piddly thing gave you trouble,” she remarked.
“If you mean Berlan, then I’ve already dealt with him,” Orin declared.
The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, he is but a lieutenant of this level’s master, but defeating him is an impressive feat. My name is Lana, Lana Hanley.”
“How long have you been imprisoned here?” Gronthil ventured.
The woman shrugged. “I believe it was just after the new Dungeon Master took over… My group was in the castle, and we were defeated just after it happened.”
Gronthil’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Your group must have been powerful indeed. Where are the others?”
“Dead, as far as I can tell,” she replied.
Orin grunted. “That begs the question…”
“Why am I alive?” Lana smiled coyly. “I suppose that ties into your other question.”
“Which is?” Rus ventured.
“Why are they treating the others so well, all things considered?” she replied. “Or did I overestimate your intelligence?”
“Well, whatever they’re doing it’s working,” Darla said as she staggered over. “They are meek and obedient.”
“Why the lies, though?” Gronthil asked. “That the king’s army is close.”
“So, you know they’re lies,” Lana observed. “I take it you are survivors from the upper levels?”
The others nodded, and she smirked. “Prisoners weren’t always treated so well. When we were first captured, they kept us in cages exposed to the elements. We were only fed or given water when we were about to die.”
“Then what happened?” Gronthil asked.
“You saw it for yourself, didn’t you?” Lana replied.
“Why the sudden change?”
“Without hope, there is no desire,” Lana said. “This is what I often heard them say, and true enough, after a while, we stopped yearning for food, for water, for warmth, even for life… We just… existed.”
Orin grunted. “Desire? What use could they have for that?”
“A dungeon feeds off desire,” Darla said. “That is a fringe theory since desire is so… intangible…”
“It’s probably why they’re feeding those prisoners up there lies about being pressed by the king’s army,” Rus opined. “Dangle the carrot of hope for rescue in front of their eyes.”
Lana tugged at the collar around her neck and looked at Gronthil pointedly. “Say, one of you wouldn’t happen to be a blacksmith, would you?”
The dwarf shook his head. “It so happens we’re looking for one ourselves.”
“I might know of one,” Lana said.
“There’s no guarantee he’s still there, of course,” she continued when the others looked at her in surprise. “But he set up shop in the Swamp.”
“Sounds like a curious fellow,” Gronthil remarked.
“Would you happen to know the way to the Swamp?” Rus asked.
Now it was Lana’s turn to be surprised. “You’re all first timers in here?”
“Some of us are,” Darla answered after an awkward silence.
“If you’re thinking for us to follow the river downstream, I’m afraid I have bad news for you,” Gronthil added.
Lana narrowed her eyes warily. “Oh?”
“The passages in and out of Forest Lake have been changed,” the dwarf explained. “There’s a chance that it’s the same for this level as well.”
“Well, we won’t know until we try it, eh?” Orin remarked. “We shall try for the old passageway and see if we find an alternative on the way.”
“Are you up for a stroll then?” Gronthil asked.
The woman nodded. “It will be good to stretch the old legs.”
She then cast a look at Darla, who had to lean against the rock dome for support. “I think you should be more concerned about her.”
“What do you do, by the way?” Rus ventured.
“I’m a sorceress,” she replied and paused to point at the collar around her neck. “Unfortunately, I won’t be of much use until I get this thing off.”
“Perhaps we could leave after a short…”
Gronthil fell silent when he heard the distant beating of drums. Orin felt the hairs on his neck stand on end and turned to Lana. “What is that?”
“The master of this level,” she replied, ashen faced. “The true master. He is on the move.”
“Now, I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I think the drums are getting closer,” Rus said as he looked warily at the top of the quarry.
“What seat does this master hold?” Orin asked.
“Sixth,” Lana said.
“We are in no condition to fight,” Gronthil added. “We should flee.”
“Is there another way out of this quarry?” Darla asked.
Lana nodded. “There’s a mineshaft nearby, but I don’t know where it leads.”
“It could be a dead end,” Gronthil warned.
“We could hide in there until this master leaves,” Darla pointed out.
“Now hold on,” Orin said, hefting his sword. “We will encounter tougher challenges if we are going to the castle.”
“You intend to take on the Dungeon Master?” Lana asked.
Orin nodded. “That’s right.”
“Then count me in,” she said. “It so happens that I have a score to settle with him.”
The corners of Orin’s mouth curled up into a smile. “You know, I’m beginning to warm up to you.”
“That’s charming, but we should not fight this person now,” Gronthil urged. “We need to rest and repair our equipment first.”
“He’s right,” Lana said before touching her neck. “We should run for now.”
“Sometimes discretion is the better part of valour,” a voice in Orin’s head said.
The warrior scowled. It was Derlek’s voice again. His first impulse was to defy it. As he hefted his sword, it caught the dying light, and the deep cracks in the blade shone clear. The sword was dear to him, and he wasn’t sure if a replacement existed, at least in this dungeon.
“Fine,” he conceded at length. “We go into the mine.”