Hermera

The 18th of Thargelion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

The children were gone.

Lyssa’s breath came shallow and quick. The children were gone.

Myriatos didn’t have many children by mortal standards—a little under two dozen out of a population of about two hundred, a population now significantly reduced—but compared to an elven village, it was crawling with them. Dawnwood had no children. Not since she and her brother were born. Progeny was rare among the elves, being so long-lived, and offspring were sacred. Now, the same monsters that killed so many of her people had stolen the village’s children.

Stolen Myriatos’s very future.

Someone brushed against her, knocking her to the side and out of her spiral. She was still in the triage. The people around her bled and wailed and moaned, holding onto life with ravaged hands. Else, they were still, and the unconscious were indistinguishable from the dead. Lyssa staggered out, clutching her leg, and found herself limping for the nearest goblin hole.

Three guards stood around it, spears at the ready to stab anything that came out of the dark. Lyssa’s wound made the walk slow and painful. The healer who’d attended her had staunched the bleeding before she’d died, but Lyssa would not be running for quite some time. Still, the pain was manageable in the face of what they’d suffered. Deserved, even.

Before she’d even approached the guards, someone intercepted her from the side. They snaked an arm beneath hers and pulled up and back, arresting her movement and forcing her back a step. Lyssa snarled and turned, ready to bite and claw, but stopped when she saw it was Elpida. Blood and rain mixed in the woman’s hair, turning the normally blonde locks crimson.

“I know,” Elpida said. “But we can’t do it this way.”

“They took them. They took the children.”

“I know.”

Lyssa struggled against Elpida’s grip, but it was no use. The armored woman’s hold was too strong and Lyssa was too injured. Elpida guided her toward Gigator, always visible in a crowd. Vik stood next to the sauros, looking unharmed, but his sword, Starlight, was out of its sheathe and dripped with dark blood. Gigator clenched and unclenched massive fists as though he were hardening dirt into rock. They turned as Elpida and Lyssa approached, the motion revealing Theodorous standing with them, a formerly white bandage covering most of his head.

Lyssa stepped past the other two and drew Theodorous into a hug.

“I’m glad you survived.”

Theodorous returned the gesture a moment later. Tears mixed with rain and blood as they splashed down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry I could not do more, Archousa. I’ve learned I’m…no, it’s not the time.”

Lyssa separated and turned to the group.

“They have taken the children. Time is of the essence. We must pursue them.”

“They will be expecting that,” Vik said, “and will have laid traps to cover their escape.”

“Then we bypass their traps and pursue them anyway.”

“Not feasible.” Vik shook his head. “It would be the simplest thing in the world to stage a cave-in. Then, not only would any pursuers be buried, but the way would also be blocked. The only reasons they haven’t already blocked off the tunnels are either because they want us to follow that way, or they’re planning on returning.”

Lyssa bared her teeth and tried to repress a snarl.

“Then how do we save them?”

“One of my scouts did manage to follow a tunnel for quite a while, before returning with a missing hand. She said they lead into a dungeon. Something called Hyperion’s Tangle. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Blight the tree that bore you,” Lyssa cursed, the elvish running swift from her mouth before she returned to the common tongue. “They’re certain?”

“Indeed.”

“I know it. The dwarves uncovered an entrance on the mountain. The goblins must come from the same dungeon.”

“Good. Then we round up as many fighters as we can spare and go crush them,” Gigator said.

“Can’t,” Elpida replied. “They closed up the mine. Brought down a ton of stone on it.”

“It would take too long to get there anyway,” Lyssa said. “Every minute we waste is a minute they’re in danger. We have to act fast.”

“Ask the dwarves,” Theodorous said, surprising Lyssa.

“What?”

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“The dwarves can widen a tunnel, bury or circumvent nearly any mundane trap the goblins left behind. They can give you enough room to get through.”

Lyssa considered it for a moment, then nodded.

“I’m sure they could. I’m not so certain they will. Regardless, I will ask Grimmolt.”

“My resentment toward you does not mean I will stand by the slaughter of children, Archousa.”

Lyssa turned to find Grimmolt approaching, flanked by two of his clanmates. He was without his breast plate, as it was still damaged, but he appeared unmarred by any new injuries.

“My apologies, Grimmolt.” Lyssa inclined her head. “I did not mean to imply that you would turn a blind eye, only that your people have suffered much recently and that I have no right to ask you for further help. I ask you anyway. Will you help us?”

Grimmolt gave her a hard look, then blew rainwater out of his face.

“You elves sure do like to talk in circles. They’ve got the kids. What are we waiting for?”

Lyssa nodded, then turned to Elpida and Gigator.

“Call your best warriors. Anyone lesser will only die.”

Both rendered a quick salute and ran off.

“I’ll join you,” Vik said. “You may have need of my skillset.”

“Then make yourself ready. We leave as soon as we are gathered.”

Lyssa turned and walked away. A heavy weight had settled into her gut and she was more than a little unsteady on her feet. She stumbled, the foot of her injured leg slipping against the wet grass. A hand caught her by the arm and held her steady.

“Just a little farther,” Theodorous whispered. “They need to see a strong leader right now.”

As soon as she had her footing, his hand let go. Lyssa put her own on his shoulder as they walked, as though she were giving him some comfort instead of the other way around. After fifteen meters, Theodorous produced a chair from his inventory and gestured for her to sit.

“Your leg is going to need some proper attention before you go. I’m not a healer, but I do have some training.”

Lyssa sat, watching her steward carefully bind her leg and tie it tight. He gave a grim, self-satisfied smile when it was finished.

“This should hold you over until your Health regenerates.”

“There is more to you than you reveal.”

“I wasn’t always a steward, you know.” He gave a hollow smile. “That life is behind me, now. What’s ahead is more important. Myriatos needs you, now more than ever. I will handle things here until your return.”

Lyssa stood and tested her weight. Her leg held. The pressure was uncomfortable but manageable.

“Myriatos wouldn’t last a day without you, Theo.”

“Any old fool can push parchment.” Theodorous adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat. “But I appreciate it, all the same.”

“See to the wounded, would you? We’ll need all hands until we return.”

“Of course, Archousa.”

Theodorous vanished the chair into his inventory, then saluted with his fist to his chest. She returned it, then headed toward one of the sinkholes in the center of the village. Elpida and Gigator were already there, two human men and an elven woman at their sides. Lyssa recognized the woman as a former member of her personal guard but the humans with Gigator were strange to her. She had seen them instructing but did not know their names. Before she was put in the awkward situation of having to ask, they stepped forward and rendered a quick salute, introducing themselves.

“Iosif Apostolelis, Archousa.”

She wasn’t good at guessing human ages, but he looked older than Arche, streaks of gray in otherwise black hair.

“Eleftherios Terzallis, Archousa.”

Eleftherios was older still, with hair that had gone entirely silver. He was a large man, clearly valuing Strength and Fortitude as attributes of choice. Both men held their spears, a silent signal that they were ready for combat at a moment’s notice.

“Thank you for joining us.”

The men inclined their heads and stepped back. The woman Elpida had brought did not need introduction.

“Despoina, I’m glad you’re here.”

Despoina was a high-elf with light-blue skin and hair dyed a bright yellow. She was younger than Lyssa, a surprise, but she was very capable when it came to bladework, having already reached the Journeyman ranks in Axewomanship. She was quiet at the best of times, but the long slash down her left arm and the grim set of her jaw bespoke she felt as Lyssa did about what had happened.

Vik stepped into view next. He nodded at each of them in turn, but his expression was masked, revealing nothing of his thoughts. The last was Grimmolt, who arrived without escort. He scowled as Lyssa cocked her head at him.

“My kin are better served plugging the other holes. I can get you through. Don’t think my injuries are enough to keep me from caving in goblin skulls.”

“Sensible.”

Grimmolt chuffed and, without waiting for further comment, dropped into the hole. A moment later, his voice rang out in a deep bass melody. The tune was haunting and, as he sang, the ground shifted and grated together. Stone scraped against stone, dirt fell away and packed itself tightly, and the tunnel widened to accommodate them. Lyssa sent an Adventuring Party invitation to each member and lowered herself into the hole, taking most of the weight on her good leg. She held her bow at the ready, already anticipating an ambush at any moment.

Before her, the tunnel widened. Dirt fell away and the walls packed themselves to allow them more room to pass. The downward slope was steep but, as Grimmolt sang, eyes closed and hands raised, steps formed to allow them an easier path. Lyssa made room as the others joined them. With each of the dwarf’s footfalls, the ground seemed to reach out toward him, caressing him. He connected to the natural world in a way she never could. It was a small thing of beauty, lost in the horror of the night.

Lyssa led the way ahead as, with the exception of Vik and Despoina, she had the best vision in the dark. Grimmolt followed after, singing the path forward into shape, then came the rest with Gigator, the largest of them, guarding their aft.

Grimmolt’s stone-singing meant stealth was out of the question and Lyssa had no doubt the goblins expected them. Still, they had to keep pushing forward.

You have entered Hyperion’s Tangle.

This is a Proficient Dungeon.

Recommended Level: 40

Lyssa tightened her grip on her bow. Grimmolt’s song wavered for only a moment, then continued carving their path forward.

Not one of their party stopped their march into the long dark.