EPISODE TWENTY-TWO:
COME INTO MY PARLOR
“You are wounded and highly agitated.” Zakarias said, his voice calm, but with a bite of irritation. “Please step back.”
“You almost got us killed, you arrogant shit.” Vash seethed. Zakarias’ hulking servants took a step towards him, faces placid, but their small, dark eyes intent and focused.
“What was so gods damned important that it couldn’t wait until we were across the chamber?”
“I was merely inquiring how long this was going to take.” The scholar said, heat entering his tone. “There are certain aspects of this expedition that are time sensitive.”
“The particulars of this quest are slipperier than greased eels.” Jabez growled. “First, it’s an unknown ruin recently uncovered. Then it’s a ruin that you know about but don’t have details. After that, it’s a competition with other academics to unearth something that you know about, but refuse to tell the rest of us. Now, there’s a time component.”
Zakarias’ face remained unreadable, but his eyes burned with anger.
Vash thought.
Shifting his gaze to Jabez, Zakarias took a conciliatory posture. “I apologize for the difficulty, but discretion was of the highest importance. I assure you that everything I am undertaking here today was approved by Duke Adolus and the Lord Inquisitor.”
“That’s not helping your case,” Corwin said, posture shifting to face the servants, who had not turned their attention from Vash.
“This is a recently uncovered ruin.” Zakarias said, placatingly. “However, it is one that I have been looking for, indeed I have been searching for it most of my career. This is the last undisturbed stronghold that we know of, of one of the Demon Princes of Draenos. Specifically Rasu, the Defiler of the Flesh.”
Jabez’s face went stony. “You lead us into a Drae stronghold? Places like this are meant to be assaulted by dozens of Wayfarers working with the other Great Orders. It’s not a place you attempt without backup and specialized equipment.”
“No, you misunderstand,” Zakarias said, shaking his head. “This stronghold has not been active for many hundreds of years. It was, in fact, one of the earliest sealed during the war with the Silent King. It was before Wayfarers and the other Great Orders became quite so…ahem, enthusiastic…with Drae strongholds.”
“It’s because they’re tainted.” Jabez said, genuine anger rising in the dwarf’s voice. “Unless you purge every stone, the shadow clings to it. Left alone long enough and it can fester and grow again.”
“And then we learn nothing about how they form.” Zakarias said, exasperated. “It’s possible that dungeon hearts are formed in the same manner as these strongholds. We have seen a dramatic up-tick of dungeon formation here in the south. The Dukes and other lords don’t want to say anything about it, but there seems to be a push from the shadow to establish a more permanent foothold. If we know how the shadow forms a dungeon, what makes it grow into a stronghold, then we can prevent it from happening. Then you and other Wayfarers don’t have to risk your lives delving tunnels filled with all sorts of monstrosities.”
Vash looked over at Jabez. The dwarf was giving Zakarias a hard stare. Not knowing enough about dungeoncraft, Vash couldn’t say whether or not the scholar was lying. He knew Zakarias had not been honest with them the entire time, and that it was better to trust your instincts.
A wave of dizziness swept over Vash. He stumbled to one side and caught himself against the wall. His Wayfarer medallion pulsed weakly. Vash felt the pain in his shoulder and the effects of blood loss. Blood soaked his undertunic, and the wound burned slightly—a bad sign.
“Damn.” Jabez said, coming over to Vash but shooting Zakarias a look. “We’re not done talking about this.”
Zakarias nodded and moved to stand with his servants, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe.
Jabez eased Vash to the floor. “Those medallions help with the pain, but they can also mask when something is bloody serious.” He examined Vash’s wound with a practiced eye. “That bugger got you good.” Jabez dug through his satchel, frowning and muttering to himself as he looked for something. Finally, he pulled out a small bottle with a few fingers’ worth of amber liquid at the bottom. “There we go. I knew I still had some left.”
“What is it?” Vash asked, looking at the bottle dubiously as Jabez pulled the stopper.
“Tonuraak brandy.” Jabez said, holding it up to Vash’s lips. “A mix of distilled heartblossom and stone-grapes. They’re grown in dwarfish caverns though, so they get infused with Therium. It’s better than most healing elixirs since they just use Therium salts as a base.”
Vash was about to protest, but Jabez shoved the bottle into his mouth and poured the liquor down his throat. It had a crisp, fruity taste, and a pleasant burn as he swallowed. Vash could feel the telltale warmth of a magic elixir spreading from his gut out to his fingertips, traveling all along the meridians of his body, looking for damage to repair.
The burning sensation from his shoulder vanished, replaced by the odd feeling of flesh knitting back together. The dizziness faded, but left behind a deep fatigue. Vash shook his head, trying the clear it of the sudden fogginess.
“Only drawback to using brandy rather than an elixir is that it’s not a restorative.” Jabez said, putting the empty bottle back in his satchel. “Your Core should start repairing the damage once you get time to rest, but in the meantime, you will not be operating at peak levels. Keep that in mind as we go.”
Vash nodded, head no longer swimming, but his senses felt dull and his movements sluggish.
He checked the wound on his shoulder. A hole, about the width of two fingers held together, had been punched through the leather. The flesh beneath had been repaired, but an angry red scab on the beginnings of a nasty scar told Vash that everything wasn’t back to full yet. A cleric or a real healing elixir would have him back on his feet, but those services were expensive, so he’d have to rely on dwarven booze today.
“You all right?” Corwin asked, moving to stand protectively over him.
“I’ll be fine in a minute.” Vash said, getting to his feet. “At least until the demons eat my soul, or whatever the hell happens in a Drae stronghold.”
“There’s no need to worry.” Zakarias said, dismissively. “This place has been inert for quite some time.”
“Tell that to the people who live in Mossfen.” Jabez said. “I bet they get cyclic monster attacks. Random, unexplained illnesses, as well as odd crop failures. Hell, the waystone even warned that this was the heart of a shadow-cult. I just thought it was the residual effects of the cult, but no, the damn Demon Prince himself had a summer house here.”
“Do you want to get out of here or not?” Zakarias snapped, apparently reaching the limit of his patience.
That shut them up.
“From what I have seen of the layouts of similar structures.” Zakarias continued. “The central chamber should be on this level. This is where the cult, or the monstrous servants, or whatever was using this stronghold, would come to commune with Rasu. They’d receive instructions, make reports, or be disciplined for failure. This chamber was also one of the few in the stronghold that connected directly with the outside world. It may be a steep climb, but we should be able to get out that way.”
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“And you get your information.” Corwin said, disgusted.
“Two birds, one stone.” Zakarias said, magnanimously.
“Then what are we waiting for?” Vash asked. Getting to his feet was an effort, and the world swam far too much for his liking, but he made it eventually. “Let’s get moving.”
"The place is bigger than I expected.” Corwin said quietly. He was following just behind Vash, deliberately putting some distance between himself and Zakarias. If the scholar and his followers noticed, they didn’t seem to pay it any mind, traveling in a small knot and apparently at ease. At the very end was Jabez, keeping an eye out for spiders that may have followed them, as well as making sure that their employer didn’t wander off and cause trouble. “Jabez and I have explored a few ruins, but they’ve just been small tombs up in the hills. Making sure that they’re kept quiet and don’t turn into dungeons.”
Vash agreed. They had been walking along the main corridor for some time now. Smaller rooms and dead-end corridors branched off the main hallway, but didn’t seem worth investigating further. If it had been a stronghold for the shadow in the old days, then it must have been home to quite a sizable force. “I never studied much dungeoncraft. What’s the difference between a ruin like this and a dungeon?”
“Oh, it’s entirely possible that this is a dungeon.” Corwin said. “We won’t know unless we find some heartstones.”
“Heartstones?” Vash welcomed the distraction. His head was still fuzzy from the dwarvish liquor, and he was battling serious fatigue.
“Therium crystals about the size of a fist.” Corwin held up his own fist as an example. Vash could see that Corwin had more than a few cuts and bruises along his forearm.
Vash thought.
“So, Therium grows where there’s a high mana concentration.” Corwin continued. “If there’s a connection to the Underlands — y’know what that is, right?”
“Caverns and tunnels deep down.” Vash said, rolling his eyes. “Home to some really nasty stuff.”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Corwin nodded. “Anyway, because of the blight during the fall of Malconia, everything in the Underlands has a bit of a taint of the shadow. The worst of it is west of the shield mountain ranges, and going under the mountains is nearly impossible, but some stuff manages to get through. When the shadow gets this far, it can latch onto Therium crystals to feed itself. When it does that, it forms a heartstone. They’re weird looking, usually purple or greenish, more organic than crystalline. If a heartstone gets big enough, it will consume the others in the area and form a dungeon heart. That’s when things really get nasty.”
“I thought it had something to do with the Drae? The demon princes…and queens? They get confusing.” Vash said, noticing that the corridor was sloping downward and although it had large patches of glowmoss, the light made only small pools in the oppressive gloom.
“It does, and it kind of is.” Corwin agreed, happy to keep expounding. “Once the dungeon heart forms, then that’s when the shadow really gets going. Depending on the area, the kind of monsters it attracts, what the structures were originally used for, that sort of thing, then the heart can form a connection to one of the Drae. That lets the demon get a foothold on this side of the mountains. When that happens, it’s really bad. Entire areas become shadow-tainted. Cults flock to the area, monsters surge through the Underlands because now they’ve got a safe path. People can get really hurt if the dungeon gets too big. That’s why we try to close openings to the Underlands, and investigate ruins whenever we can.”
“Great, so this is a regular occurrence.”
“No, this is…this one is odd,” Corwin said, glancing over his shoulder at Zakarias. “We mostly know how dungeon hearts form, but sometimes they just pop up in areas with low mana concentrations, or ones that don’t have connections to the Underlands. Drae Strongholds were like that too, back after Malconia fell. They’d pop up without warning. No one knows why.”
Vash said nothing, mulling over the implications. Corwin continued, filling the silence with chatter. “Unmapped ruins can be really lucrative, but they’re also really dangerous. Jabez and I usually avoid them since we’re both part of the School of the Fist. Until now, we have had no one from the other Schools to partner with, which makes dungeon delves tricky.”
“Other schools?” Vash asked, peering into the gloom. Ahead of them the corridor seemed to dip and then ended in a heavy double-door.
“Yeah, the other specializations in the Wayfarers.” Corwin said. “We can talk about those later. I think we’re almost to the central chamber.”
Vash cautiously agreed. The door at the end of the corridor was made of the same gray-brown stone as the rest of the structure. Carved into the door panels were pictographs of rituals and the same strange, spiky writing from the friezes in the corridors above. As they approached, Vash noticed a central picture of a humanoid figure suspended head-down over a yawning pit. Robed figures lined a chamber to either side. It was an obvious sacrifice, but the imagery was like a spider hanging its prey. Vash had a sinking feeling that the spiders making their nest here wasn’t a coincidence.
Zakarias came up from behind them as Vash was studying the door. “Yes, that’s it. Gods, the imagery is fantastic.”
“What does it mean?” Vash asked, eying the door warily.
“Oh, it wouldn’t be very interesting to you,” Zakarias said, gazing at at the doors. The scholar radiated an intense hunger, hands hovering over the carvings like a starving man over a proffered loaf of bread. He was eager, but afraid someone would yank it away at the last moment. “It’s just ritual and dogma, instructions for the faithful.”
“But what does it say?” Jabez asked. The dwarf was a few steps behind the rest of the group, hammer in hand. He stood casually, but there was a tautness to his movements.
Vash thought.
“Instructions on how to open the chamber safely.” Zakarias said, confidently. Before anyone could stop him, the scholar reached out and began manipulating the door. He pressed in certain carvings, twisted others. Then at last he whispered a few words under his breath, like a prayer or a password.
Vash waited, tense, for something to happen. The corridor remained silent for a time. Vash exchanged wary glances with Corwin. Zakarias did not look away from the door, a look of happiness and contentment on the thin man’s face.
Vash thought, letting his hands fall to his weapons. The two servants were looking straight ahead at Zakarias, silent and still as statues.
From somewhere deep within the stronghold, there was a groan of ancient gears and a rattle of chains. Dust and dirt drifted down off the stone doors. With agonizing slowness, the doors swung inwards, scraping against bones and other detritus on the ground inside the chamber beyond.
The room beyond seemed to be the central chamber of the structure. A large square room supported by four columns that stretched into the gloom above. Beyond that was a hexagonal room with a large circular opening in the center of the floor. Glowmoss covered the walls, as did a purplish glowing crystal structure. All seemed to come from the central pit in the far room.
What caught Vash’s attention, though, was the piles of human bones in front of the doors. Dozens of people had tried to escape this room, but sealed in before they all died. From the mass of bones, they climbed over each other, desperate to get away from what emerged from the pit.
“Come in, don’t be shy,” came a soft, feminine voice that echoed through the cavernous room. “I have not had visitors in so very long.”
Vash swallowed hard and took a step back. A hand like iron came down on his uninjured shoulder and stopped him from moving any further. Vash looked back to see one of Zakarias’ servants standing right behind him, small eyes intently fixed on him. The chest that he had carried was resting on the floor, the top opened. Within the chest were the butchered remains of a human torso. The chest cavity had been hollowed out and strange reddish-purple crystals encrusted the wound. The servant held in his other hand a sphere of opalescent purple stone.
What the hell is that? Vash thought with horror.
The other servant was taking a similar stone out of the chest that he carried. Meanwhile, Zakarias took several steps forward into the central chamber, his arms spread wide.
“I am not a visitor, lady.” Zakarias called. “I am a sworn ally of your sire and prince! Today we shall set a heart to beating that was callously stopped so long ago!”
“Gods dammit.” Jabez growled and started forward, hefting his hammer.
The servant closest to him grabbed the dwarf by the collar and casually tossed him into the next room. Jabez flailed as he flew through the air, landing hard and skidding to a halt about ten feet into the central chamber.
Vash and Corwin tensed, ready to charge in or flee, but the next moment rooted them in place. Out of the pit came an enormous, chitinous leg, followed by another, and another. Eight legs heaved an immense, bulbous body out of the pit. At the front of the creature, where the head of a spider would normally be, was the top half of a human woman. Her body had the grayish cast of disease and ill-health, bulbous cysts dotted and deformed her flesh. A few lank strands of hair clung to her bald scalp, and one side of her face had several black spider eyes bursting forth, pulling the skin taut to one side.
The creature settled its enormous bulk on the edge of the pit and regarded Zakarias with a horrific smile. “He promised you would come. Welcome, shaper of the flesh. Welcome, and many thanks for the sacrifices that we have needed!”
“Their souls are strong.” Zakarias said, happily. “I tested them all day. They will make the perfect base for the soulstones.”
“Wonderful. Shall we begin?”
