The
Iron Legion
Chapter 7
Rhadhamaerl-filled sconces lit the dark halls of the palace. The Company descended spiral stairs, squeezing past small stone archways, carved to fit dwarven proportions. Deep into the heart of the palace, where no man was ever meant to walk, the secret chambers of the dwurs were built to accommodate their masters.
"Forward, lads. Keep your eyes open," Sunder cautioned the men. His eyes searched to and fro, on the lookout for signs of an ambush. Fortunately, there was no sign of danger.
In a small side chamber, they found a modest collection of scrolls and books. Brok became very excited by this discovery. "<The secrets of Gyrth Orom may lie within these crumbling documents,>" he gestured with his lone arm. "<The clue we need to unlock the mystery of the Iron Legion may be here.>"
After a brief discussion, it was decided that Brok would remain at the library, with Ghallar to watch over him. Agni volunteered to lead the rest of the Company to the treasure vault.
-----o-----
A few floors down, they reached the desired chamber: The palace treasury. Eliazar, Lotheneser and Jisander checked the ancient doors for hidden traps, but found none.
Cautiously, they opened the stone door. Nothing could have prepared them for what lay beyond. A golden glow; the light of rhadhamaerl reflected upon countless coins of gold, silver and platinum. Sparkling jewels; rubies, diamonds, emeralds and sapphires spilled from golden goblets and saucers. Harps plated in purest silver, jewel encrusted crowns and necklaces lay in shining heaps. Incalculable wealth lay before them.
The men entered the large room in awed silence. Eliazar's eyes were wide open, a silly grin plastered on his face. Jisander wore a childlike expression of wonder. The wealth of a great nation was no small thing. Sunder and Durlan quickly directed the Company to look for something out of place, some clue to solve the quest that had led them here. But the men found it hard to concentrate with the golden bounty before them.
So it was that the loud clang behind them caught them by surprise. The men turned around, drawing their weapons. An iron portcullis blocked the only entrance into the room. Agni stood on the other side, double bladed axe in hand, a grim expression on his face.
"What in Syrul's name?! " growled Arngrim. Agni pressed another hidden catch. Sharp iron spikes slowly began to descend from concealed housings in the ceiling and on three of the chamber walls. The deadly shafts would meet in an interlocking pattern soon, killing all at the heart of the trap.
"Agni! What treachery is this?" Sunder scowled, furiously wracking his brain to formulate a plan to free his men from this deathtrap.
"<Foolish Men! Lawkeeper Torvald was right. The Law is clear. None who have gazed upon the Holy City must leave!>"
"We had a bargain!" Sunder yelled, an angry scowl on his face. The men beside him were hacking at the iron spears in a futile attempt to halt their advance. Their efforts were in vain. The metal was apparently enchanted to withstand such attacks. "When we find this Iron Legion..."
"<You found nothing, Man! It was I, Agni, son of Narsi, son of Narvald, son of Yggdras, son of Thordras, who found the Iron Legion," Agni laughed in mockery, shaking a fist at the men. "< The statues in the throne room. They are made of iron, not stone!>"
Of course, Sunder thought bitterly. That's why they were strewn haphazardly throughout the room. Iron golems of some sort, covered by thick layers of dust, so they resembled the stone statues we have seen everywhere in the city.
Beside Sunder, Lotheneser stood hesitantly. His silver elven dagger was poised for throwing. Successfully throwing a spinning dagger through the iron grille before them, and hitting the target beyond would be a very difficult task for anyone but the half-elf. Yet he did not cast the deadly missile, for the traitor dwur's death would deprive them of the only means for escape from this gruesome trap. The ringing of metal upon metal became louder as the men hacked at the spears in desperation.
"Agni, your king gave his word. He gave his word! You cannot betray... " Sunder's words were cut off by a loud thunderclap. Agni's grinning head caved in with a spray of blood, as a massive warhammer struck his helm.
With a grim scowl, Ghallar descended the stairs and stood over the traitor's body. There was a strange glint in his eye as he reached over and activated the release mechanism.
With a loud creaking of rusted gears, the iron spikes reversed their course and the portcullis rose into its recessed housing.
For a moment, Sunder silently held the dwarven thane's gaze. Then he spoke in a calm voice. "Take a helmet-full of gold each, lads. I believe we have earned it."
-----o-----
"Hurry, now," Lotheneser hissed. Clutching the Unveiler in his hand, the half-elf observed the crimson tendrils scurrying through the shadows, converging upon the shattered bones of the dwarven king's skeleton. The tendrils writhed and curled like a nest of vipers.
The Company stood guard while Elder Brok and Thane Ghallar worked with precision, wielding delicate tools to adjust the clockwork gears inside one of the iron automatons. So far, only four of the golems had been restored to working conditions, as instructed by the half-crumbling manuscripts Brok had found at the library. Though the magics necessary to animate the wondrous creatures were lost to the dwurs, the metalworker's skill required to repair them was deeply ingrained in the dwarven people.
" 'Ware! It rises anon!" Lotheneser cried. Lachluin flared with blue radiance, heralding the danger to come.
"Move out, lads," Sunder ordered, raising the sword Taragarth to a high stance. "Retreat as planned."
The moaning rose once more, as the mist thickened and boiled.
Brok hastily closed the metal hatch on the back of the iron golem and spoke the command words in the ancient language of the dwarves. With a groaning sound, the repaired golems slowly came to life and began moving out of the throne room. There had been time to salvage only five, but it would have to do.
-----o-----
The flight from the accursed city seemed like a feverish nightmare to Keras. Endless running through shadowed streets. Rhadhamaerl lamps burning at irregular intervals. The clanging noise of the Iron Legion behind them. The awful howls of the demon mist. Skeleton troops rising to block their escape. Sorcerous lights from enchanted weapons. After what seemed like an eternity, their mad escape ended when they emerged into the fading sunlight beyond the dark gates of Grimrock.
Sunder and Durlan decided to march the Company out of the valley, before the sun set, lest the ghosts within the city should decide to follow in the darkness.
Ghallar had not spoken a word since the incident at the treasury. Keras walked beside him and asked: "He was your kinsman, was he not?"
"He was my father's brother," Ghallar answered gruffly. Scowling deeply, he would say no more.
The Company finally reached the base camp. The pack lizards brayed softly in welcome. The men swiftly built a campfire from rotten wood gathered from the ruined gardens of the once fertile valley. Durlan organized the watch, for they feared an attack from the vengeful spirit in the city or from subterranean beasts drawn by the light and the heat. But it was better to face such things by the light of a fire than in the cold darkness of the caves.
Finally, Ghallar rose and solemnly addressed the Company.
"My lords," Ghallar spoke in the common speech of the Flanaess. "I ask for a Thane's right to audience and would present my case to you." He spoke as a man on trial. "Twice now have my people betrayed you and betrayed the memory of the sons of Durin." Brok shifted uncomfortably at the Thane's words.
Ghallar lifted his chin, a fierce light burning in his eyes. "I am Ghallar, son of Thorin, son of Narsi, son of Narvald, son of Yggdras! I shall redeem the honor of my people. I pledge my service to this Company of the Raven and to you, son of Turpin, that you will know that the dwarves are true sons of the Soul Forger. Heart of Moradin, Might of Moradin. Hail Durin, son of Moradin! So do I swear." His deep voice resounded in the darkness. The accent was heavy, but the words could be clearly understood by all. His syntax was perfect; a sign that he had worked on this speech for a long time. In all likelihood, since Agni's death.
"<Elder Brok,>" Ghallar turned to address the grizzled old dwarf. "<Return to the city of Cragholme with the Iron Legion and bear word of what has transpired here. Tell our king and our people that these men have fulfilled the task set before them with courage and honor. Tell them that the son of Thorin has gone forth to show that the Lyrkerami can do no less.>"
Brok nodded solemnly and added: "<May the Soul Forger watch over you. May the fire of His forge temper your heart and His hammer mold your soul. I shall do as you ask.>"
Satisfied, Ghallar turned to the Company once more. "Son of Turpin, there is a passage that leads from the valley of Gyrth Orom to the lands of man west of the Rakers. I will take you there, if you wish."
Sunder looked at each member of the Company. He saw in their eyes the same desire he felt to leave these dark tunnels and return to the sunlit world. However, he had vowed to himself to return these men home.
The three Ratikans seemed to read his mind. Jerem of Marner cleared his throat.
"Captain, if I may. I speak for all of us when I say that we owe our lives to you." He gestured with his arms to include the entire Company. "Whatever happens to Ratik; whether this gnoll invasion succeeds or not, we will not be able to return there in time to affect the outcome. We can only hope that at least one of Earl Thondred's messengers arrived safely at Ratikhill and that Archbaron Lexnol has taken steps to stop the invaders. In any case, sir, we would be proud to join you in your travels and fight under the Raven Banner."
Lotheneser grinned. "And the dwarves will likely do fine at their own efforts, with these golems to fight at their side."
Eliazar added sullenly: "By Pholtus and Pelor and all the gods of light! Yes, please! Let us be gone from this accursed place."
The men all burst into laughter.
Sunder smiled. Ah, Elwydd, my friend. To live like this, in the company of these fine people. Perhaps this job is not so much a burden as I thought. Sunder raised his wineflask in a toast, and joined in the laughter.
-----o-----
It is written in the High History of the Flanaess that, in the year 577 of the Common Era, humanoids from the Bone March attacked Ratik and the gnomes of its southern hills. Ratik asked for the help of the dwurs, who could not give it, being blocked in their besieged mountain Holds as armies of gnolls moved deeper into the Rakers. Archbaron Lexnol of Ratik assembled the Volunteer Borderers, a force of Ratiker and Fruztii woodsmen with elven warders from the Timberway.
Some say that a messenger from a fallen mountain stronghold survived a vicious attack and a great blizzard to warn the Archbaron...
Thus ends The Iron Legion, the first book of the Company of the Raven.
