Orin searched the darkness for the owner of the voice but soon became aware of the intensifying heat from the fires that raged around them.
“We need to move!” Rus warned as he and Lana lifted Gronthil’s stretcher.
“Whoever summoned that explosion is still out there,” Orin said, picking up his sword. “They could be preparing a second attack!”
“All the more reason to get moving!” Rus pointed out.
Orin looked around and saw that the fire had surrounded them. The heat was intense enough to drive him back a pace. “Where can we go?”
“Into the water, you idiots!” the voice from earlier called out of the darkness. “Then follow the sound of my voice!”
“Do we trust him?” Orin asked softly.
“We’re cooked if we don’t do as he says,” Lana said.
“She has a point,” Darla offered.
Orin clicked his tongue irritably before conceding. “Fine, let’s go.”
The warrior led the way into the waist deep water, which obliged Lana and Rus to hoist the stretcher onto their shoulders. A fallen tree that had been set ablaze barred their path, but at least they were no longer in immediate danger from the fire.
“Keep your heads down!” the voice warned.
“What do you…”
Rus’ words were drowned out by another thunderous roar. Moments later, Orin saw a flash of movement as something crashed into the fallen tree, smashing it into splinters.
“Run!” the voice cried. “Run towards the sound of my voice!”
“Go!” Rus roared when Orin hesitated.
The warrior ground his teeth in frustration, knowing he had no choice. He readied his sword all the same before charging through the breach the explosion had created. Once they cleared it, he heard creaking behind them and turned around to see burning trees crashing onto the patch of water they had just been standing in.
“This way,” the voice growled out of the darkness. “The swamp should keep the fire contained, but we should move quickly before the beasts return.”
“Step out into the light,” Orin ordered. “I would like to see you before we follow you any further.”
“Follow me, or continue blundering through this swamp in the dark, the choice is yours,” the voice replied. “However, it doesn’t look like your friend has much time.”
“He’s right, Orin,” Darla said. “We need to get Gronthil somewhere safe.”
Orin felt the vein in his forehead throb. If it were up to him, he would have marched off into the night, but he had companions to consider now. It was all proving a right pain in the arse, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon them.
“Come along, this way,” the voice said cheerfully.
The voice soon led them out of the water, and as they travelled further from the fire, the forest became dark again, making navigating the root and sinkhole strewn ground difficult. However, the owner of the voice seemed to have no problems with the dark and led them along without using any source of light Orin could discern.
Orin cursed as he tripped on a root and fell face first into the foul, sodden soil. A light appeared, and the warrior looked up to see Rus standing over him, holding a flaming arrow in his hand.
“Take this,” he offered. “It doesn’t provide much light, but it’s better than nothing.”
“That will attract predators,” the voice warned.
“We can’t follow you through here if we can’t see,” Rus pointed out.
“Extinguish your flame and just shuffle your feet to follow me,” the voice ordered. “Or I abandon you here.”
Orin was about to explode with rage when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Darla, and the light from the arrow revealed the pleading look on her face. Orin cursed softly and picked himself off the ground.
“Do as he says,” he ordered Rus through gritted teeth.
“Very good,” the voice said cheerfully when Rus extinguished the flame. “Come on now, follow the sound of my voice.”
They had only gone around twenty paces when Orin felt the ground underfoot turn from marshy soil into solid stone. The warrior had been walking with his arms outstretched to forewarn him of any hidden obstacles, and after roughly five paces over relatively smooth stone, he felt his fingertips brush against a rock face.
“Yes, we’ve arrived,” the voice said as though reading his thoughts. “That wasn’t so arduous, was it?”
“I’m sorry, sir, you’ve helped us greatly, but we don’t even know your name,” Darla began.
“Introductions can wait,” the voice said. It was closer now, but it was so dark that Orin couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. “Mind the step and come on in.”
Orin cursed when his foot caught the top of an unseen ledge, sending him stumbling into a table. Something clattered off the table before landing on the floor with a crash.
The voice let out a tired sigh before saying. “Please do try to be careful.”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“It wouldn’t be a problem if only we had some light,” Orin muttered under his breath.
Soon, a rumbling sound filled the air. It was accompanied by a slight tremor, as though something heavy was being dragged across the floor. The atmosphere changed quickly. The air grew heavy, as though they were all enclosed in a small room. Footsteps padded from one side of the room to the other, and another door opened, and a warm glow spilled out, illuminating their room. It was accompanied by a sudden gust of hot air.
When Orin’s eyes adjusted to the light, he saw that the other stone walled room was dominated by a forge, and the light was coming from the lit coals in its hearth. He looked around the room and jumped when he noticed a dwarf standing behind him, examining his bent sword.
“I remember this blade,” the dwarf’s skin was bronzed and lined with age, and his white beard was tied into two neat braids. “This is Tempest… and you are Garthan… How curious. Why were dungeon creatures attacking one of their lords?”
“I am not that man,” Orin said sharply.
The old dwarf broke into a smile. “You are not someone even one as old as me would confuse for another.”
He furrowed his thick white eyebrows thoughtfully as he looked into Orin’s eyes. “Although, I must admit, your demeanour has changed markedly from when last we met. How curious…”
“The introductions can wait, sir,” Darla said. “As you noted earlier, our companion is in dire straits and needs immediate help.”
The old dwarf blinked. “Ah, you can set him by the fire. You are a cleric, yes?”
“I am,” Darla admitted as Rus and Lana carried Gronthil into the next room. “Though I am not able to heal him at the moment.”
“And no wonder,” the dwarf exclaimed. “You look like you are at the end of your rope. I will prepare some food, modest though it may be.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Darla said as the old dwarf gently guided her to a cushioned chair. “Your aid is greatly appreciated. Might I know your name?”
“Therson,” the old dwarf replied, looking at each of the group in turn. His eyes lit up when he saw Lana. “Ah, Ms Hanley, weren’t you just by not more than a week ago? You have new companions…”
“A lot has happened,” Lana said before turning to the others. “This is the blacksmith of whom I spoke.”
“Yes, I’d noticed,” Therson said as he retrieved dishes from a nearby cupboard and set the small table in the first room which was a reception room of sorts. “The new regime certainly has a… different way of doing things.”
“We seek to confront the Dungeon Master and put an end to his machinations,” Darla said. “Will you help us?”
“In every way I can,” Therson replied. “Which is to say, I will mend your equipment and succour you here as best I can. However, I’m afraid I cannot accompany you, if that is what you mean.”
“We wouldn’t expect you to accompany us,” Rus said quickly.
“You said you’ve met me before,” Orin interjected.
The old dwarf poured hot water from a kettle into a teapot before looking up at the warrior and smiling. “Yes, you came by here… oh it was over a month ago now, I think. You and your companion…”
Orin felt the blood rush to his face. “Do you mean Derlek? Derlek Fontane?”
“That was his name, I think,” Therson nodded before handing Darla a cup filled with steaming liquid. “Here, drink this. It will help you sleep.”
“Answer me!” Orin’s voice boomed through the enclosed chamber, causing the others to wince.
Therson, though, was unmoved by the giant man’s outburst. He turned to the others and raised the small porcelain teapot. “Tea? I’m afraid it hasn’t had much time to steep, but I think it more important to warm your bodies.”
“Perhaps tea can wait,” Rus suggested with an uncomfortable smile.
The old dwarf shrugged and turned to Orin. “This is certainly a change. The old you would probably have slapped this teapot out of my hand in a rage.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” Orin said through gritted teeth.
Therson set the teapot down and chuckled softly. “I must apologize for teasing you. I was testing you to see if you truly had changed… and it appears you have.”
“What do you mean?” Orin demanded.
The old dwarf sat in an easy chair facing the warrior and scrutinized him with his slate grey eyes before speaking. “Yes… you have changed… Or rather, you were changed by some sort of magic…”
“What sort of magic?” Orin asked when his voice trailed off.
“That I cannot say,” Therson admitted at length. “I’m afraid magic isn’t my area of expertise… Metal is. If you would entrust me with your sword again, I will see to making it as good as new. Better, even.”
“Could you also do something about this?” Lana asked, pointing at the collar around her neck.
“Ah yes, I can get that off you right now, if you’d like,” Therson offered before getting to his feet again.
“Please,” Lana said.
“What was Derlek after when he came here?” Orin asked while Therson rummaged through a box of tools by the hearth.
The dwarf looked at Orin and blinked. “Why, to conquer this dungeon, of course. And he succeeded, from the look of it.”
“What sort of person was Derlek?” Darla ventured.
Thorsen retrieved a long nail and a hammer from the box and gestured for Lana to sit on a stool before replying. “Friendly enough, reserved, though. Wouldn’t speak of himself much.”
The dwarf then fell silent to focus his attention on the lock on Lana’s collar. He poked at it with the nail for a moment before raising his hammer. “Don’t move.”
Lana held her neck out and closed her eyes as the dwarf gave the nail a sharp tap. The lock sprang open with a click, the collar popped off.
“That’s better,” Lana said grinning broadly. She raised her hands and frowned when nothing happened.
“It will take a while for your powers to return,” Therson said. “You should rest. All of you.”
Lana glanced over at Darla who had fallen asleep in her chair and shot Rus a look. The hunter nodded. “Orin and I will keep watch while the two of you sleep.”
The hunter then turned to Therson. “I don’t mean to pry, but why have you set up a smithy in the heart of a dungeon?”
Therson arched an eyebrow. “Well, there is a steady supply of customers, for one.”
“Isn’t it dangerous?” Rus ventured. “Surrounded by dangerous beasts?”
“For whatever reason, they don’t come by this way,” the dwarf explained. “Besides, there’s a satisfaction I cannot put into words from helping ambitious delvers on their first journey.”
“If you say so,” Rus said dubiously. “By the way, how did you navigate the swamp like that?”
The old dwarf blinked and glanced at Gronthil. “Didn’t you know? Dwarves can see in the dark.”
“He never mentioned that,” Rus grunted before breaking into a broad grin. “A dwarven blacksmith, at least one of you lives up to the stereotypes.”
A blank look crossed the old dwarf’s face, and Orin cleared his throat. “Those explosions, they were your doing…”
“Aye,” Therson nodded and cocked his head at a contraption standing by the main door. It resembled a black steel cauldron attached to pivots so that it could be angled up and down, which was in turn attached to a wheeled wagon. “It’s a cannon.”
“I’ve heard of those,” Rus breathed. “Newfangled things. Never thought I’d see one down here.”
Orin glanced at the women and saw they were both asleep. He then walked over to the dwarf and eyed him up and down. “I can’t put my finger on why, but I get the distinct feeling you aren’t being completely truthful with us.”
“No, he’s right, that’s a cannon,” Rus objected.
“Not about that,” Orin snapped and waved his hand around the workshop. “About this… something doesn’t add up…”
“Now wait a minute, he’s sheltering us and…” Rus began.
“No, it’s quite alright,” Therson said with a wave of his hand. “He’s right, and you feel it as well. My story doesn’t add up…”
The old dwarf eyed Orin and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what happened between you and Derlek, warrior, but I believe you had a falling out.”
“We’re not going to the castle to join him, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Orin stated.
“No, I wouldn’t imagine you are,” Therson shook his head. “He’s done things to this place… Things I cannot agree with.”
The dwarf looked Orin in the eye, and the warrior saw a flash of strength in them before coming to a realization. “You’re the Dungeon Master…”
“The former Dungeon Master,” Therson said. “The one you and your friend deposed.”