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Dexter
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It took a good hour to weave together a functional canopy at the roof of the cavern. It took even longer to make sure it was sturdy enough to hold all of us. The thick rope was more than enough to hold each of us, but to hold all of us, it needed to be tied just right. Added to that, I doubted any of us could just balance on a rope as we waited. So, we needed a mat of rope to sit and wait. Fortunately, the stalactites served as the perfect cover and anchor. A quick Mold Earth spell and the stalactites could be shaped with convenient grooves, strong enough to hold the canopy in place while we waited on top of it.
Meanwhile, Brokil worked diligently on pea-sized pills that would serve as our trap for the Elites. The retort bottle appeared to function as a makeshift distillery for one of his ingredients, the product of which he used to give the sleeping draught the necessary potency he needed for forced unconscious. He sighed as he used that weird roller thing to squeeze a tube of his finished creation. “Let us hope they all return in a timely fashion.” He growled as the beads of glistening paste rolled into the tray beneath the grooves. “This will only delay the effects for so long. Once it has digested, they will struggle to remain conscious.”
I nodded as I tugged at one of the ropes, testing the pattern I had used to make the canopy. “They should all come back once we tell the city to drop the lockdown. They might not all come back at once, but they’ll come back eventually.”
Dumag looked up towards me as a scowl appeared on his face. “How do you propose we convince the city to relinquish the lockdown?” He asked. “Surely my nephew is not enough to convince the city of the elven presence here.”
I was about to answer when Orthan’s voice suddenly sounded from below. “I cannot go back to the city, not now.” He said.
I turned and looked over the canopy in time to see Dumag give Orthan a condescending look. “You must return, nephew.” He replied insistently. “That is the only place where you will be safe.”
Orthan shook his head as he pointed to the cage. “Those knife-ears imprisoned and tortured me. I cannot let this insult to my honor stand.”
Dumag shook his head as he rested a hand on Orthan’s shoulder. “Your heart is true, but no. These elves are too skillful. You would only fall to them again.”
Orthan let out an angry growl as he pulled his uncle’s hand from his shoulder. “But I would not. Please, uncle, let me prove to you that I am capable. My own father does not think me worthy, why not you?”
Dumag let out an annoyed growl as he raised a finger to Orthan. “Boy, do not question me. You are far too young to enter a battle. I will not have your blood on my hands.”
I started to climb down as Orthan continued arguing. The distance from the floor caused my fear of heights to flare for a moment before a quick hop spell allowed me to let go and break my fall. “The only blood that will be spilled today is elven. Uncle, please, I can fight. I am not a helpless mewl.” Orthan suddenly pointed to me as I landed with a soft pffff beside them. “Even he is ready to spar and he cannot have seen four dozen seasons. His face is too nubile for that!”
Dumag gestured dismissively as he pointed to me. “The age of the outsider is not your concern. You are too young to fight this battle.”
Orthan let out an annoyed sigh as he turned in place. “How can I prove myself if I am not allowed to fight?”
Dumag let out an exasperated sigh as he turned to me. “Speak with my nephew.” He pleaded. “He will not listen to reason. Surely you are far older than you appear.”
I gave Dumag a hesitant look as the subject of age seemed almost hostile, given the circumstances. “How old do you think I am?” I asked. “Cause by my year, I’m barely twenty.”
Dumag’s face went white and Orthan turned in surprise, throwing his hands up in triumph. “Ah HA! See, uncle? He is even younger than I and he is ready to fight.”
Dumag let out another sigh as he turned to Orthan. “Age is not a factor in this decision, boy. We did a great deal searching for you and I will not allow the Elites to take you again. Now follow our orders and return to the city.”
Orthan shook his head again and gestured insistently. “Then allow me to prove my worth. Please, I want to be like you. I don’t want to be a farmer for eternity.”
Dumag looked down as he shook his head, his face twisting in pain and regret. “You do not want my fate.” He muttered. “Loss and pain are constant in my line of work. Not a moment passes where I do not wish I could undo my mistakes and save those that I lost. Even now I worry for the safety of those I am aligned with.” He glanced towards Bruga then at the others as we watched his argument with his nephew. Brokil was still working on the beads, but he had his head turned to listen in. “Though we have known one another only briefly, I would consider it a tragedy if any of us were to fall to these Elites or any adversary for that matter. Throughout this quest, I have learned that we are not a mere group of colleagues, but of stalwart companions.” Dumag then turned back to his nephew, whose expression had softened as Dumag spoke. “I have already lost many companions.” He explained. “I already cannot bear the pain that loss causes me. I cannot stand to think what the loss of family will be like.”
Orthan swallowed as tears welled up in his eyes. “Uncle-” He muttered.
Dumag raised his hand and stopped whatever Orthan was about to say. “That is why I insist you return.” He continued. “We have found where you were taken and have removed you from your prison. What happens now is merely congruent with a related obstacle facing the city. It is now obvious that the Elites have stolen their general from us and we must do everything in our power to hinder more of their endeavors. I understand your heart wishes for battle, but this is a battle that you have no place in. I wish I could say otherwise, but you would not fare well here. You must be taken to safety before the elites arrive.” No one said anything for a few minutes as Dumag finished his speech. The silence held a palpable tension as we waited for Orthan to retort. All eyes were on him as he stood there, shoulders slumped.
Orthan let out a defeated sigh as he looked away, unable to meet Dumag’s concerned gaze. He wiped at his nose as he sniffed loudly, his nose pulling at a bit of mucus as he inhaled. “I do not wish to be a farmer.” He finally replied, still not turning to Dumag. “I know I cannot be a soldier; I do not have the stomach for it, but I cannot stand the idea of toiling in the fields all my life. Today, I have a chance.” He finally turned to Dumag, meeting his gaze with a stern but nervous expression. “I have a chance to prove myself, beyond my father’s expectations, beyond his authority. Today, I wish to show him that I am my own person. I cannot do that if I am to be whisked to safety. I do not wish to follow in your footsteps, but I also do not wish to follow in my father’s. Please. Let me prove my capabilities.”
Dumag let out a low sigh as he stared at his nephew, his milky eye seeming to gaze at his soul as he considered. Dumag finally sighed as he rubbed his head angrily. “You are too young for this.” He muttered, almost to himself. “I may despise my brother, but I cannot bring myself to allow you in harm's way. If we had a means of arming you, perhaps another outcome would be more favorable. As it stands, however, your presence would be exploited by the Elites, if and when conflict broke out.” Orthan seemed about to protest again, but Dumag raised a hand to silence him. “Understand that this is not a remark on your capabilities, but of the heartless nature of our opponent. Even in a weakened state, they may be far more than we are capable of handling. Removing you from the fray is our only guarantee of your safety.”
I let out an exhausted sigh as I stepped forward and gestured towards Orthan. “Except sending him away is the opposite of what this prep work has been about.” Dumag glared at me and I back up, raising my hand defensively. “I’m not thrilled at the idea either, but if he goes back to the city the Elites might spot him and know their camp is compromised.”
Dumag growled again as he glanced towards the exit. “What would you have us do then? Surely you would not send him into a fray without armaments.”
I shook my head as I pointed to the freshly made canopy of rope. “We just need a place for him to sit in case something happens. That’ll be a secondary function to the canopy. He won’t have to go, but he won’t be in any immediate danger up there. It’s not ideal, but it’s the best with what we have.”
Dumag let out a sigh as he glanced up at the canopy, inspecting the weave from afar. “You are certain in your construction?” He asked, turning back to me.
I glanced at the woven mat as I gave the question some thought. All in all, I’d managed to make a good ten foot by twenty-foot space in the darkness in a corner of the room. I’d specifically chosen that place because it allowed us to watch the entrance and central pit of the cavern, out of their line of sight. I’d done my best when it came to weaving the canopy, but I wasn’t sure the best way to go about it with just a length of rope. Even now, I wasn’t sure how long it would hold up once all of us climbed on, but it seemed to hold my weight well enough while I was up there. I finally nodded as I turned back to Dumag. “It’ll work, for now,” I replied. “Once Brokil finishes with the sleeping draught, we can send someone to the Institute and tell them to release the lockdown. Hopefully, they’ll take our word for it and the Elites can head here.”
Dumag let out a sigh as he glanced over to Brokil, who had returned to the roller, carefully inspecting and measuring the resulting beads. “That is the other matter that concerns me.” He sighed. “We have little to no proof that we have truly discovered the fate of our missing prisoner. My nephew could help in that endeavor, but even then Elder Mother Garahk may find the notion distasteful. We need steadfast proof that the general has vanished from our midst; an indication of the Elites being present in this cavern.” Dumag then glanced worriedly at his nephew before turning back and gesturing at him. “What’s more, I am still uneasy about my family being present during this. Even if he is out of reach, the Elites may have a means of scaling the cavern to attack.”
I let out a sigh and nodded as I glanced at him. He gave me a concerned look as I considered our dilemma. “It would be good to get him armed,” I admitted, thumbing the guard of my sword absentmindedly. “However, we don’t have any spare gear and I know the potential weapons we do have require arcane abilities to wield. Not something an average joe can just pick up and use.”
Orthan bowed his head as he nodded seemingly accepting of his fate. After a moment, however, he furrowed his brow as he appeared to consider something. He finally turned to Dumag as he voiced a question. “You would be at ease if I was better armed?” He asked.
Dumag hesitated for a moment as he gave Orthan a confused expression. He then thought for a moment and nodded as he rested a hand on his enchanted bag. “My qualms would indeed be eased.” He replied. “However, as the outsider said, none of our scepters can be wielded by those without the arcane gift.”
Orthan nodded as he turned towards the far wall, scanning it for something. “I may have a remedy for that.” He mused as he walked over, examining the wall. We all watched him, confused, as he ran his hands along the sides of the cavern.
I stepped forward and said “What do you mean rem-” I stopped however as Orthan suddenly gripped a portion of the wall and pulled, lifting away a stone and causing that section of the wall to shimmer. The shimmering swiftly faded to reveal a hole in the cavern wall about the size of a head, hidden by whatever covering Orthan had just removed.
Orthan turned back with a grin as he showed us the baseball-sized rock he had taken from the wall. “The elves may have been prepared, but they were careless in their own abode,” Orthan explained. “I may have been their prisoner, but I have been able to observe them throughout my captivity. They always approached this wall to retrieve some arbitrary item.” He reached into the hole he had just created and began rummaging around. “I saw them most often reaching for this cavity, where they hid the-” Orthan suddenly pulled his arm out, gripping an ornate and twisted dagger, the pommel of which was composed of a clear stone. Orthan hesitated for a moment as he stared at the blade, his face falling as he clasped the implement gingerly in his hand. “the dagger they used on me.” He finished his voice now a hushed whisper.
Dumag quickly strode forward and glared at the weapon in question, lifting it from Ortha’s grasp as he examined it. “Those knife-ears used this on you?” He growled, spinning the dagger in his hand. “And you are willing to return the favor?”
Orthan was silent as he stared at the item, unease hiding a look of contempt as he watched the dagger spin. Seeing it twist in Dumag’s hand reminded me of a drill, except this drill had a much more sinister purpose. Orthan rubbed his arm as he finally nodded. “I cannot count the number of times, though my body probably will, but yes; they used that to draw my blood and I do intend to repay their monstrosity.”
Dumag let out an angry sigh as he suddenly gripped the hilt of the blade, stopping its spinning. He then flipped the blade in his hand and held it by the blade, presenting the hilt to Orthan as he nodded. “If you are so inclined and so long as you are swift of foot, I shall allow you to remain.” Orthan’s face lit up at the thought and reached out for the dagger, but Dumag pulled it away, his face a stern visage. “Granted that you do not seek out a fight and only draw this blade only to protect your own wellbeing. These foes are not to be taken lightly.”
Orthan hesitated for a moment then nodded grimly as Dumag presented the blade once more. Orthan took it gingerly as he let out a nervous sigh. “I will make you proud.” He muttered, almost to himself.
Dumag let out a sigh as he ignored the remark and crossed his arms. “I only wish we could better arm you for this conflict; if at least to protect you that much more.”
At the remark, I looked towards the stone Orthan had pulled from the wall, then at the wall itself, an idea forming in my head. “What if we could?” I wondered aloud, approaching the wall and running my hands over it. This wall was rough and pitted, unlike the walls we had passed previously.
Dumag gave me a curious look as I searched the wall for any indication of what I was looking for. “You expect to produce some manner of protection?” He asked curiously. “Surely you were not so forward-thinking to bring spare armor.”
I shook my head as I slid my hand along a section of the wall. “I won’t but the Elites might.” Dumag's expression rapidly changed to one of confusion as he watched me search the surface of the cave. I let out a frustrated sigh as I found nothing and I gestured at the wall. “Can you detect any traces of magic here? I doubt that the cubby hole there is the only one. I mean, they had to get their orc outfits from somewhere. Maybe they packed some armor as well.”
Dumag’s eyes went wide as he suddenly understood what I was getting at. “You do not think,” He gasped.
I nodded as I gestured at the hole Orthan had revealed. “This isn’t just a temporary camp. This must be an entire base set up, right here in Gashur. They must have dozens of them scattered about. That’s how they can slip by unnoticed. They might not even need any prep work. They just come in, pull out what they need, and do what they need to do. Who knows, that table over there might slide right back in if we push hard enough.”
Dumag growled angrily as he glanced at Brokil. He seemed done with the roller and was now waving his hand over the beads he had created, his palm aglow with gentle flames. Dumag then scoffed as he stepped forward, gesturing briefly. “If that is such, then we must know how well armed they have made this place.” He muttered, running his hands over the wall. Sections of the wall glowed as his hand drew closer. I selected one such place and ran a hand along the edge, looking for what Orthan had grabbed before. I finally found a place in the wall with a strange grip and pulled, removing a baseball size sphere from the wall and causing a nearby section to shimmer and disappear. The disappearing wall revealed another cubbyhole in the wall of the cavern. I cast Illuminate with my free hand and used the light to peer into the hole, revealing a stack of furs within. I turned to examine the sphere more closely and found it was covered in runic symbols and swirls much like the ones that had graced Amelia’s bracelets. I turned to examine the hole more closely and found a divot near the bottom of the lip that looked about the right size for the stone in my hand.
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A thought suddenly occurred to me and I turned and held up the rock to Dumag. “Before we pull any more of these out, let’s make sure it won’t be obvious that we were messing with their stuff.”
Dumag nodded as he glared at the mundane stone. “Tread lightly.” He confirmed.
I nodded as I turned back and replaced the stone in the recess. The stone shimmered for a moment, then a warbling wall appeared to rise from below to cover the hole I had just uncovered. After a moment, the warbling stopped, and once more the stone looked to be a flat surface. I nodded as I reached out and took the stone again, revealing the cubby hole once more. “We’re good to plunder their stocks. Odds are, they won’t even know we were here.”
Dumag nodded as he waved a hand over a section of the wall and pulled away a stone, revealing another cubbyhole. “Then let us assess how well prepared they are. We may find an indication of how long this bastion of darkness has stood.” I nodded as Dumag and I got to work finding the various hiding places along the wall. Amelia and Bruga walked over to aid us as we piled the enchanted rock beneath the wall. A great many items were hidden in each alcove; furs and shoes, pouches of teef, elven blades, jars of various substances and arcane ingredients, stacks on stacks of parchment that described notable places and significant people in those places. I felt a twinge of disturbing unease as a page described a small village northwest of Snakhagr, the mayor of said village, and his wife’s daily routines. A note at the bottom of the page read “Vulnerabilities are numerous. Easy point of infiltration to other villages. Mayor can be persuaded to cooperate for forgeries and silence for spousal safety.”
I handed the page over to Dumag with disgust. “They’re unnervingly thorough,” I remarked. “This is stalker levels of creepy right here.”
Dumag nodded as he took and examined the page. “It is valuable intel to be sure,” He replied. “However, now that we know of what they gathered, we will be able to counteract their movements. What’s more, Chief Dubak will wish to know of these matters and address them. If such assessments can be made for one village then it is likely others have similar flaws.” I sighed and nodded as I turned to the stack I had pulled the paper from. It was about as thick as a novel, each page marked with a place, person, description, and significance. The most notable individuals had an ‘X’ written into the corner of their page.
I set the stack beneath its hole with a sigh as I made a mental note to take the pages back to the Institute when we were done. “Let’s just hope their info is outdated. The Elites knowing about the orcs leaves a sick feeling in my stomach.” Dumag nodded as we continued sorting through the various storage spaces hidden in the wall.
Brokil came over shortly after with a bead of his pinched between his fingers. He showed me the finished product as he explained its effects. “The potion is absorbed by the wheat paste and baked to a certain extent. Once it is consumed, the potion will take effect within the hour, dragging the consumer into a restless sleep.”
I nodded as I examined the golden-brown bean Brokil had spent the last hour or so creating. It was no bigger than a pea. “How long will they be asleep for?” I asked. “And can they be woken up once they’re down?”
Brokil let out a sigh as he glanced towards the table, now strewn with the remnants of his work. “If I had more time, I could make a stronger draught. As it stands, however, they would be unconscious for about four hours. It would also take some effort to awaken them, but it would not be impossible. What’s more, they would be delirious once they were disturbed. I do not imagine they could put up much of a fight.”
I nodded as I gave the bead another once over then handed it back to Brokil. “Great work. You mentioned potentially volatile reactions if you got it wrong. This thing won’t do that?”
Brokil nodded as he motioned with his hands as if mixing a bowl. “The bloodform potion used a handful of ingredients that would react poorly with this potion; crimson bark, mercer venom, holly sap. I managed to compensate for the potency using the retort. However, I am mildly uncertain about the results.” I gave Brokil a concerned expression and he elaborated. “Chances are, I am correct in my concoction and the beads function precisely how I described. However, as I am unfamiliar with a few of these ingredients, there may be a chance that there is interference and the result becomes not what we anticipated.”
I let out a sigh as I glanced back at the trove of items found in the cubbyholes. The only other thing we had found was several sets of black dye elven leather armor, likely what they usually wore in their day to day, and a collection of jars that likely served as reserve ingredients. No orcish armor though. As far as I could tell, there were no magical items for rituals or combat, orcish or otherwise. I turned back to Brokil as I gave him a nod. “Your potion will have the intended effect, I’m sure of it,” I said firmly.
Brokil let out another hesitant sigh as he glanced at the table again. “In any regard, I can easily slip these into their potions. I do not imagine them noticing them amidst the soupy concoction they have created.” I nodded and gave him a thumbs-up, prompting him to turn and move back to their stone table, beginning the process of slipping handfuls of beads into each of the flasks.
I turned back to Dumag with a sigh as I rubbed my head. “How prepared do you think we are?” I asked nervously, hoping for assurance.
Dumag glanced at me then up at the canopy as he seemed to consider. He finally nodded as he set the stack of armor beneath the crevice he had pulled them from. “I am uncertain of the tactics you considered before choosing this plan. However, I trust your judgment. You have shown cunning and fortitude amid great adversity. You may be brash and impatient at times.” He glanced at the cage that still sat at the far end of the cavern. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I clenched my fist instinctively, remembering the crackling pain the magic had caused. “However,” He continued, turning back to me. “as I learn of you, I come to understand why you were chosen as a Champion. Your dedication and determination are strangely inspiring. Time after time, we would face defeat only to snatch victory from its maw, spurred by our actions and words to push past the breaking point. Today, as tentative as these words may be, I would consider it an honor to fight by your side.”
A grin spread across my face as I let out a chuckle. “Let’s hope I live up to your expectations then,” I half-laughed. “Hopefully the plan works out and we can capture the Elites without much of a fight.”
Dumag nodded as he glanced at his nephew. He had spent the time staring at the swirled blade in his hand, contemplating. Dumag let out a sigh at the sight as a look of worry replaced his expression of confidence. “I only wish we had found better armaments. Our furs are enchanted to an extent, but I am unnerved at the idea of my nephew walking about unprotected.”
I let out a sigh and nodded as I glanced down at my shirt. The meager cloth was faded slightly and rough from all the times Amelia and I had washed and worn it. It would do squat for protection against a blade and I was kicking myself for not searching for actual armor sooner. I had meant to check up on Shurkul and potentially get a set of armor, but the merchant caravan limited my movement and my classes had taken quite a bit of my time and attention. I gripped the hilt of my sword as I turned back to Dumag, Bulak’s combat lessons running through my mind. “At the very least, the Elites might not get a chance to draw their weapons. With the potion’s effects, they won’t even get the chance to-” I stopped as a thought suddenly occurred to me. I turned to the stack of Adympian leathers the Dumag had just set aside. Another grin spread from ear to ear as I looked back up at Dumag. “Maybe we do have better armaments,” I said cryptically. I had a moment to see Dumag’s confused expression before turning to Amelia as she counted out several Elven blades. “Hey, Amelia,” I said, drawing her attention. I grabbed the first folded piece and lifted it high, showing the blackened leather to her. “How do you feel about wearing black?”
Amelia too gave me a confused look, but a flash of understanding and a wide grin quickly replaced it. “I’ve always preferred a nice teal this time of year, but a black outfit will do just nicely.”
I chuckled as I turned to Orthan, his stony expression still focussed on the blade. I tossed him the leather armor as I gave him a shout. “Put That On. You’ll want the added protection.” Orthan turned to the leather armor with a start as it landed beside him. He then glanced up at me and nodded as he set the ornate dagger down and grabbed the armor to pull it on. I nodded as I stood and grabbed the next piece of armor from the stack. I glanced at Dumag as I began pulling the tight leather on, my shirt clinging tight to the interior as the armor squeezed my torso. “I’ll be sure to fight with pride.” I gasped, loosening a buckle to squeeze my arm through. “The Elites have wronged the tribe and I’ll be sure to repay them. With any luck, we’ll capture all the Elites still in the city.”
Dumag nodded and glanced at Brokil as he walked back over to join us. Brokil nodded affirmatively as he pointed back at the table, which was now clear of his work, and the lid of the crate placed back onto the container. Brokil handed Dumag the retort and bead-roller as he let out a tired sigh. “The preparations are complete. All that remains is to wait and draw the Elites back.”
Dumag nodded as he glanced at me. “How shall we move forward?” He asked. “We must still convince the Chief to release the lockdown. Else the Elites will forever remain in the city, as will the citizens of Gashur.”
I nodded as I let out a sigh, smoothing the leather to fit better across my torso. It wasn’t too restricting to wear, but it wasn’t a very good garment to breathe in either. I was a size too large for the intended wearer. “I think I might have a plan for that,” I said, glancing towards the stone table. I turned to Brokil as I mentally crossed my fingers. “You replaced the message, right? The one that had the potion recipe on it?”
Brokil nodded as he reached into his shawl, pulling out another piece of parchment, this one notably different from the previous. “I created a copy of the script in the event that they destroyed the original. I wish to study this potion to better understand the properties of the ingredients.”
I nodded as I stretched, causing the armor to emit a creaking sound. “Perfect,” I said, stooping to grab one more black-leather armor. I walked over to Amelia and handed it to her before grabbing one of the blades she had been counting. She began pulling the armaments on as I turned and walked back over, holding up the dagger as I explained. The hilt of the blade made it obvious that a smaller more delicate touch had crafted it. “We can give that and this to the Chief and tell him what we found. We’ll explain the situation and hope it’s enough to convince him to release the lockdown. With a few teleports, Salthu should be there within a couple of minutes.”
At the mention of his name, Salthu looked up from his sitting position. He and Gremach had been quietly resting near the entrance to the cavern, acting as lookouts just in case one of the Elites decided to come back early. “You require me?” He asked, standing.
I nodded as I turned and gestured for him to come down. “Actually, yeah. I need to inform you about the plan.” I said. Salthu nodded as he turned and walked down the path towards us. I held my hand out towards Brokil for the parchment. Brokil hesitated for a moment, not quite wanting to relinquish the unique recipe just yet, then rolled it up and handed it to me. I nodded as I turned to Salthu and held up the parchment and dagger. “I need you to take these to Garahk and convince her and the Chief to release the lockdown.”
Salthu hesitated for a moment as he glanced between the two items. “You do not require my help here?” He asked, sounding disappointed.
I shook my head as I pointed towards him with the hilt of the dagger. “I need you for a more important task. All this prep will be for nothing if the lockdown on the city remains. You know the most about the spell that brought us here so you’ll be the best to explain how we found their camp. This message and the dagger will support any claim you make about Elves in Gashur.”
Salthu took the dagger and parchment hesitantly and examined the two items. “You are certain you trust me with this?” He asked. “I am fearful that my words would not hold as much sway.”
I nodded as I walked over to my bag. It was resting with the other satchel against a stalagmite. I opened one of the zippers and pulled out the bag of manastones Garahk had given me. I knew why Salthu was nervous. He always had a bit of a sore spot with his magical abilities and how people treated him for it. After spending so much time with Amelia, however, I learned a bit about how to give proper speeches of encouragement. I walked back over and held the bag out to Salthu as I explained. “It won’t matter how they perceive you. So long as you bring them proof and explain the situation, they’ll have to listen to you. What’s more, this is an opportunity for you to prove them wrong. You could stay here, sure, but if you do they’ll never see you contribute to the quest or the search for the general. At this point, we’ve confirmed that he’s long gone. The best we can do now is try and capture the Elites in the city; which we can only do if they release the lockdown.” I placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring grin. “I trust you on this.”
Salthu hesitated for a minute as he looked at the bag of manastones. He let out a deep sigh as he gingerly took the bag and nodded. “The people will wish for an explanation.” He warned. “Is there one that you can provide, one that may sufficiently convince the Elites that they are not known?”
I glanced towards the canopy as I considered for a moment. I had spent so much time building it that I hadn’t given much thought to what to tell the others. I finally shrugged as I turned back to Salthu. “It’s up to you.” I finally replied. “You know them better than I do. You’ll be able to come up with something more believable than I can.”
Salthu nodded as he hefted the bag of manastone again, weighing it gingerly. “Very well,” he sighed, slipping the three items into his satchel. “Tell me when the preparations are complete and I can depart with the message. I only pray that your plan works gracefully.”
I let out another sigh as I looked at the canopy. It was barely visible in the dim light of the orbs. I had no trouble imagining it would be invisible in the darkness. I nodded in agreement as I turned to the stash we had pulled from the wall. “One can only hope,” I muttered. With that, I stepped forward and began replacing all the items we had pulled from the wall.
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It took about fifteen minutes to slip everything back into their respective holes and place the enchanted rocks into each recess. We carefully hauled everything up into the canopy and it bowed a bit under our collective weight. I extinguished the last Illuminate orb, just to see how it looked in the cover of the shadow. The corner I had selected was barely visible without the minute source of light. I nodded as I cast Illuminate again and turned to Salthu, giving him a nod. “We’re ready. Go to Garahk first. Tell her it’s important and fill her in. Then go with her to Dubak to convince him to release the lockdown. We’ll be waiting here for the Elites to slink back to their cave.”
Slathu nodded as he fiddled with the string of his bag. “May the gods smile upon you.” He whispered, turning and heading up the path to the crevice in the wall.
I nodded and threw him a wave as I looked up at the canopy. “You as well,” I whispered. I then crouched low and began to cast Teleport. In a minute and with a gentle pop I appeared in the canopy, shifting the weight a bit and causing the woven floor to sway slightly. I sigh and snapped my finger, extinguishing the Illuminate orb once more and plunging the cave into darkness. “Nothing to do now, but wait,” I said quietly. In the darkness, I could see a few of them nod. Amelia and Orthan were now wearing the black leather armor we have found in the cubbyhole. I let out a sigh as I stared ahead blankly, waiting for the tell-tale sound of a returning Elite.
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Salthu
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I felt my heart pounding in my chest as I made my way back to the beacon. Brokil had told me to hide it away from the Elven beacon we found before, in case their path led them into the cavern at all. I scooped up the obelisk-shaped device and found a quiet corner to depart from. With a swift pop and a stomach-churning moment later, and I was returned to the surface, set on returning to Snakhagr.
The journey back took considerably less time. The manastones provided by Dexter allowed me to cast a few long-range Teleports, despite my drained mana reserves. I drained six of the dozen manastones within the pouch. Placing me squarely before the Institute with one final pop. I glanced about the street as I searched for a sign of the Elites. None came to me and I only saw the hustle and bustle that had materialized due to the lockdown in the first place. I let out a sigh as I turned and strode into the Institute; entering into a place that was somehow more chaotic and on edge than the streets outside. I quickly turned and followed the flow of a crowd towards the Arkanul Portath. I knew the Elder Mother had questioned the students of the Institute, but that did not ease my mind.
I quickly found myself in front of the large oaken doors, my hand gripping my satchel tight. I let out a nervous sigh before pushing open the doors, entering into another discussion between the Elder Mother and the Guild leaders. One of the Guild leaders, the one wearing a fluffy white shawl, was standing and reading from a slip of parchment. “A total of two thousand souls have been questioned and accounted for. At this pace, we expect to have searched the entire city within a few-” He stopped as I pushed the door closed behind me, drawing the attention of everyone at the table.
Elder Mother Garahk gave me a curious look as she lifted her head. “You have returned,” She remarked curiously. “Has the outsider returned with good news?”
I couldn’t help but swallow nervously as I stepped forward, shaking my head. “I am sorry to say this, but that is not the case,” I admitted. The Elder Mother’s face fell as I began to explain. I told her about the spell, the blood, the original intent of our quest. I told her of the disagreement, the scuffle, the departure. I told her about the clearing, the dried spring, Amelia’s journey into the mouth of the cave. On and on I went, telling her of our discovery of the cave, the cage, the barren nature of the camp. All the while, the Guild leaders glanced at the Candor Candles still burning on the table. The flickered between the green hue and the orange tint of its natural state. The magic of the wax was beginning to fade. I pulled out the elven dagger and showed it to everyone present. A gentle gasp sounded as I placed the blade upon the table. “The general is not in the city, that much I am certain of,” I explained. “Orthan claims to have seen him with his own eyes. The Elites departed from their camp not a few hours before we arrived.”
The Elder Mother nodded solemnly as she dropped her head, folding her fingers together as she gazed at me. “Then we have lost our quarry?” She asked. “The Elites have once again bested us?”
I shook my head as I reached into the satchel and pulled out the piece of parchment. “There are Elites still in the city,” I replied, sliding the page toward her. The Elder Mother took it and read the contents carefully as I continued. “However, the outsider has a plan for them. He has laid a trap for their return. His one request is to release them and the city from the lockdown. He shall use all that he can to capture those that return to the camp.”
The Elder Mother looked up from the parchment as he gave me a wary look. “He is certain his plan will succeed?” She asked skeptically.
I let out a nervous sigh and nodded, recalling the success Dexter had with most of his plans. “I am confident he will prevail,” I replied.
The Elder Mother stared at me for a moment as she appeared to consider her choices. She finally let out a low sigh as she exhaustedly began rubbing her head. “Very well. I assume he also gave you instructions for a proper cover story? The Elites would be wary of returning if the lockdown was lifted with no explanation.”
I let out another nervous sigh as I shifted from one foot to another. “He gave me clemency to devise a tale of my own. At first, I was hesitant, but I believe I have a sufficient tale for our intentions.”
The Elder Mother gave me another curious look. “Have you now?” She asked. “What, pray tell, is this tale?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself as I considered the explanation again. “I have read a few tales in my time,” I admitted, a grin spreading across my face. “In a few of those tales, sewer entrances are plentiful and exposed to a great number of ne’er-do-wells. Perhaps a similar entrance could be found beyond the walls, one large enough to fit a person.”
The Elder Mother leaned forward in her chair, intrigued. “Perhaps there is.” She remarked, grinning. I felt myself grinning in turn as we began discussing the official plan.