Konrad had envisaged traveling a lonely road to the north-east, but since they had left Portia on the Lost Coast, he and Spirit had been pushed, jostled, bumped, and nudged along in a sea of humanity. It seemed that every hardy pioneer, adventurer, scholar, and explorer on the continent of Parthanea was surging northeast, and he had arrived to find the valley in front of the mountain filled to bursting with camps of gnomes, elves, orcs, humans, and even a tribe of giants. Each of them had been drawn here by the whispers of Rhendra’s falls and the great riches to be won.

Some said that the dwarves had tunneled into a forbidden cavern and unleashed a great evil. While others swore that the dwarvern wrights, leaders of the mountain city of Burley, had struck a deal with creatures from the abyss and had been betrayed. A gnome who had carried a pack bigger than his own body had sworn to Konrad that someone known only as the Grand Archavist had persuaded the dwarves to open the caverns and accidently unleashed the ancient witch, Rhendra.

What Konrad did know for sure was that the gigantic iron gates of the city sat resolutely closed, guarded by heavily armed dwarves with iron face plates who spoke to no one, and that once a day the gates ground open to admit a handful of adventurers who were not seen again.

The line of those waiting to test themselves stretched all the way along the straight road that cut through the valley. Hard fighters from the streets of Tajar chatted amiably with fur-wearing visitors from the north. A game table had been set up, and veiled women from the southern shores glared at a group of gnomes who muttered to each other and threw down some more coins. Industrious traders had set up stalls along the road to tend to the needs of hungry travelers.

"It’s going to take weeks before we can get in there," Konrad muttered to Spirit before a familiar voice behind him made him freeze.

"Dwarven delicacies!"

"Cultural food of the region," cried another voice Konrad knew.

"Oh no," Konrad breathed.

Spirit whined as two brothers with large stomachs and balding heads towered over Konrad. Behind them sat a small cart full of steaming food attached to a wagon with a large wooden box on it.

"My name is Poulter, and this is my brother and business partner, Horace. Tell me, are you an adventurer?" Poulter asked, reading from a scrap of paper in his hand.

Even though Konrad’s previous encounters with the brothers had resulted in the destruction of their stall and the theft of a number of sausage rolls, neither Pouler nor Horace showed any indication that they recognized him.

"I’m here because of the cavern," Konrad lied. His real mission was to speak to someone called Stendhal about the missing god, Cloda, but after Paabo’s and Lyran's reactions to his questions, he kept his true purpose a secret.

"I’ll say that’s a yes," Poulter replied.

"Do you think it’s important to respect other cultures' culinary traditions?" Horace interjected.

"I suppose so?" Konrad replied, his eyebrows furrowed.

"In that case, we offer you the greatest adventure in this valley, an exploration of the senses," Poulter read from his paper.

"A priceless cultural experience, more valuable than any treasure," Horace added.

"What?" Konrad exclaimed, utterly perplexed.

Behind the two brothers, the large wooden box mounted on their wagon rocked as whatever was inside thrashed around.

"Genuine dwarven cave lice larvae," Poulter concluded.

The brothers stepped aside to reveal large, fat insect larvae impaled onto thin wooden sticks being carefully roasted over hot coals. The fatty sacks were giving off a smell of burned wax and weeping orange pus. Spirit slinked up to the tray and sniffed tentatively, wrinkling her nose and backing off with her tail between her legs.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

"No thanks, not for me," Konrad said, raising a hand to his mouth and trying not to gag.

"But you answered all of the questions," Coulter protested.

"So?" Konrad replied.

"Its psycholologic. You’re an adventurer, you respect other cultures, and you like to take risks, so you try the food," Poulter whined.

"I told you, people don’t want your fancy sales techniques," Horace snapped, ripping the paper from his brother's hands.

"What they don’t want is bugs for their tea. We should have done sausages," Pouler said, stabbing his finger into Horaces' chest.

"A sausage would be nice, actually," Konrad interjected.

"Don’t you push me!" Horace yelled, shoving his brother.

Poulter tripped, his arms making desperate windmills as he stumbled into the wagon. A door on the side of the crate sprang open, and there was a moment of collective horror from the brothers as a monstrous pair of antennae poked out and tested the air.

"The mother’s escaping," Pouler cried.

A cave louse the size of a horse screeched so loudly that Konrad clapped his hands to his ears. The beast jumped off the back of the wagon, stampeding through the line of adventurers waiting to enter the city, and crashing against the heavy gates. Weapons cracked on its hard shell, and more than one war cry ended in a scream as the monstrous insect fought back.

Bodies were thrown in all directions as the great beast made her escape through the crowded camp, and Spirit nudged Konrad sharply with her snout to direct his attention to the gate. The impact of the mother cave louse had left the metal gates twisted, and they stood slightly ajar, with one of the dwarf guards fighting to wrench them closed.

Konrad raced forward, and as he reached the gates, a tide of shadow enveloped him and Spirit, allowing him to slip inside just as the dwarven guard finally managed to slam them shut.

"Where’d you come from?" The guard said, spinning around and reaching for his axe.

"You let me in just before that thing went mad," Konrad lied, holding up his hands.

"Did I? Well, you’ll be the last group of the day, I'd wager, after this mess. Name’s Tannin."

"Konrad."

Tannin led Konrad and Spirit under a colossal stone archway that looked as if it had been carved directly into the rock, but the size and skill of this undertaking was nothing compared to what awaited inside.

The entire interior of the mountain had been hollowed out so that it looked like a gigantic beehive, with houses cut into the sloping rock walls. Suspended walkways crisscrossed the vast interior space, and cleverly engineered platforms rose and fell, carrying dwarfs and people high into the upper levels. Shafts of light from holes in the rock were expertly angled to hit crystal deposits, causing them to flare into life.

"Best to see it in the morning, but it never gets old," Tannin said, pulling off his helmet and wiping his forehead.

"Can you tell me how to get to the dwarven Wrights? I’m looking for Master Wright Stendhal," Konrad replied.

The dwarf looked at Konrad as if he were a new and confusing species of cave louse. "You’ve got a high opinion of yourself, don’t you? Probably think you’re the Grand Archavist herself! There’s no way you’ll get in to see the Wrights; don’t you know what’s going on down here?"

"All I heard about was that a cavern had been opened, something about Rhendra’s waterfall?"

"Rhendra’s falls—that is why you’re here, isn’t it?"

The last thing Konrad wanted now was to be kicked out, so he decided it was better to lie. "Yes, Rhendra’s Falls, I’m an adventurer."

"Well, that’s alright then." Tannin maintained a wholly skeptical expression but gestured for Konrad to follow him.

A smaller tunnel took them deep under the mountain; the walls were roughly carved in the rock, and in the flickering torchlight, Konrad noticed thin black veins that pulsed with a very faint red light.

"Don’t want to get too close to those," Tannin said, pulling Konrad back gently.

"What are they?"

"The Wright’s say it’s from the abyss, it’s always been down there as far as we know. Some months ago, a group of fools went ahead and opened up the lower caverns, and it started spreading out. You would think that there were enough tales of dwarves delving too deeply and waking up dangerous things trapped in the rock that they would have left it alone. Anyway, it started to creep up to the city, the Grand Archavist managed to fight it back some, but then we lost her and had to call for anyone we could to come and try their luck."

The tunnel leveled out, and the black tendrils merged into great, thick, reaching tentacles on the walls and ceiling, the faint red pulse seeming to react to their presence.

At the end of the tunnel stood a great iron gate, guarded by two stocky dwarves holding great halberds. In front of them were two adventurers: an orc with bursting biceps and a human woman in fine leather armour who raised a questioning eyebrow as she appraised him.

"What’s in there?" Konrad asked, glancing into the darkness beyond the gate.

"We don’t really get much sense out of the ones who make it back, but there’s some dark things in there—traps, beasts. Nobody who came out ever tried again, except for the Grand Archavist, that is; they said she went in fifteen times before we lost her."

"If I stop this and bring back the Grand Archavist, can I see the Wrights?" Konrad asked.

"If you manage all that, lad, they’ll carve your face into the mountainside."