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Turn 25

---Turn 25---

---Everyone in the Inn---

"OK then," Duncan said, jumping to his feet and looking slowly around the room, lingering on each of his companions. "Enough of this talk. I'm off for the gunpowder." Looking aside at Hortion, he enquired: "Any special directions we need to get to the pit?"

"No. Cross the square, between the houses and past the Smith's. Go through the gate, and head up the hill. Pit Nine's the one with 'IX' on the lintel. The blasting store's on the second level down - follow the tunnel to the ladder, and go down a level." The dwarf tipped his head back and drained his tankard. Tossing a glance at Martha, he continued. "The store's the first arch on the right."

Duncan nodded, scratching his chin. "OK, good." he said. Pausing before nodding once more, he turned back to face the Initiate and Elias, and said: "Let's go boys, no time to waste." Grabbing up his heavy cloak and settling his axe in his belt, he made his way towards the door. Darmon pushed the now-empty stew bowl away and stood up. The tall three-legged stool slid back, caught on something, and toppled gracefully backwards. Spinning to grab it, the lanky initiate thumped the handle of his new axe against the bar. The shaft pivoted about his thigh, forcing the heavy steel head into his groin. Elias casually caught the stool in his hand and the falling boy in the crook of his arm. Catching hold of the antique Aquavit bottle by the neck in his free hand and settling the stool down, he half led, half carried Darmon to the door.

Turning just before he opened the door, Duncan addressed the room. "We should be back with the kegs long before nightfall. If you others go out we will either wait here for you, or go to the walls when the time comes." He gave Darmon a kindly smile. The pain was receding fast and already the boy was losing his limp.

"You fellers got any lantern-hats that we could, er, borrow for a while?" Elias added, catching Hortion's eye. The Dwarf Master-Miner took a fresh tankard of ale from Martha and shook his head.

"No. The boys all bring their own. You could try looking just inside the tunnel mouth - sometimes people leave theirs there." Elias nodded.

Smiling, Duncan waved slightly with one hand and gripped the door handle with the other. "See you soon then." he said, heaving the door open to let the others outside, before slipping out himself, and letting the door swing closed behind him.

"Very well, then!" Xavier straightened up and clapped his hands authoritatively. "In summary: we'll have two brisk little forays into the pits: Darmon, Duncan and Elias are off to Pit 9 to fetch the gunpowder for use in the catapult. Meanwhile, I'll go to pit 13 with Aenarion to have a look at this altar. Could be a fascinating find, and it'll give me a chance to practice my Arcane," he said, peering down his nose at the Alchemist. "We'll need directions, and some appropriate lighting equipment," he continued, transferring his gaze to Hortion. "Neither Pit should take too long to investigate, I'm sure."

Aenarion looked over at the young man and nodded his head shallowly. "Thank you, my friend. I was not comfortable going into the pit on my own, but I feel that two pairs of eyes should be enough to alert us to any danger that may be waiting for us. Do you feel comfortable enough with your weapon yet to use it if you had to?"

<< Reply - Xavier >>

"Pit Thirteen's on the north side of the east wall." Hortion dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping off the foam. "Go east until you get out the gate, then turn left and follow the path round and up. You'll have to look for your own candles: I don't carry any spares."

"Make sure that you take plenty of light," the Alchemist added helpfully. "The writing's quite worn and inexperienced eyes such as yours won't be able to make the characters out." The Elf smiled sardonically at that, his delicate mouth curling up at the corners. The Dwarf tried to ignore the by-play but couldn't let that smile go by.

"And make sure you don't let him out of your sight!" He indicated Aenarion with a nod of his head. "Elves can't cope with being under the earth - they get panic-y and run off. Get themselves lost. I'm not going looking for him if he does!" With a visible effort of will, he relaxed back onto his stool. "The altar, if that's what it is, is on the bottom level. Take the ladder down to the bottom and follow the tunnel. There'll be plenty of my boys down there. They can tell you where the fissure is."

Aenarion smiled again. Hortion flushed red but fought it down before he had time to draw his axe. "Very well, then. I will collect my own personal gear from under that table, there, and you are correct about us needing lamps or torches. I trust those will not be difficult to get."

Xavier nodded and looked round the rest of the group. "So, Rodger, Junither, would you like to join us, or stay up here? At least one of you should confer with the local authorities," he waved airily at Urkan and Vertan, "as to how we can best assist with the defence." He began to look awkward. "And bring Storm up to date... as soon as someone, er... finds out where he's got to..." Xavier trailed off, staring at the floor.

<< Reply - Junither, Rodger >>

Aenarion unfolded from his stool and crossed the room. Grasping the neck of the sack with both hands, he dragged it out. Bracing his feet, he paused to gather himself before heaving it onto his back. Holding it there with one hand and ignoring the corner digging into his side, he stepped forward to take hold of his staff from where it lent against the mantle. "Well, let's go stare it in the eye, shall we?"

---Duncan, Darmon, and Elias crossing the Square---

The three trudged through the deep snow that covered the square, making for a broad gap between two buildings opposite. The air temperature was still below zero and the snow showed no sign of melting. Thick black clouds gathered over the peaks either side of the narrow valley and slowly grew together overhead. They already obstructed the sun - it wouldn't be long before they obscured it altogether. The distant war-drums pounded on and on, the rhythm of a man's pulse.

"Shush" hissed Elias. "Can you hear that?" The other two looked at him strangely.

"The drums?" Elias nodded distantly, his ears pricked. "I think everyone can hear them, even the miners!"

"No," Elias insisted. "Listen!"

Darmon cocked his head on one side. "What are we listening for?"

"I can hear… two…"

Elias shook his head. "Listen harder. I can hear three: one to the Northwest, one to the Southwest, and one to the Southeast." He shuddered. "I've never heard more than one at once." He shuddered again. "If those are Goblin drums, they don't mean anything good…"

---Xavier and Aenarion crossing the square---

The student and the Elf crossed the square quickly, not wanting to be out in the open while those infernal drums pounded. There was less snow on the roads outside the square - the close-packed log and stone houses had funnelled the wind and the snow away. The little snow that had settled had long since been churned into hoary mud by the passing feet of miners and guardsmen.

The road led straight out to meet a paved road that paralleled the east wall. Turning south, they followed the road past the smith's forge and towards the gate. The smiths forge was a large barn-like building. Low stone walls reached to waist height with slatted wooden walls reaching up two storeys to a single-sloped wooden roof. The wood was stained as black as coal with creosote. The silver-forge was at the north end of the building - a beehive shaped stone building, only accessible from inside. The blacksmith was a stocky fellow with sparse black hair on the sides of his head and a large purple scar creasing the top of his skull from left to right. Despite the heat, he was naked from the waist up except for a long, blackened leather apron. Dirty grey linen trousers tucked into clumpy black-leather boots completed his ensemble. The adventurers only got a quick glimpse of him as he led a nervous pit pony into the forge, closing the door behind him. The stabler's boy was a skinny lad with a runny nose. He kicked a loose lump of coal around as he waited impatiently. The coal had rolled from the head-high pile at the south end of the building. Walking on, the characters quickly reached the gate.

The gate in question was a double-door of two-inch thick oak bound in and studded with iron. Both doors stood wide open. A bored looking boy stood on the parapet, leaning on the wall and staring blankly out and up the slope. He looked round as he heard the approaching footsteps. Xavier and he exchanged nods; he favoured the expressionless Wood Elf with an appraising stare before arrogantly turning back to stare at the side of the mountain. The two stepped through the gate and turned to follow the gravelled track up the mountainside.

---Duncan, Darmon, and Elias passing the gate---

A steep path zigzagged up the mountain's flank beside a fan of spill to disappear around a hillock. The three were halfway up when a dirty, ragged-looking woman leading a string of three ponies carrying full panniers appeared from out of sight. She gave them a cursory glance as she approached but passed them without making eye contact or saying anything to anyone. The three stepped off the path to let her by, glad of the rest. When the ponies had passed, they started climbing again.

The mine's mouth was a large hole in the near-vertical side of the mountain. A small rocky outcrop immediately outside the cave's mouth made an almost flat plateau four paces wide and three deep a hundred metres about the village. Two heavily pregnant women and an old man, all equally dirty, sat on matting and sorted a pile of rocks. The coal went into baskets, two beside each, and the rock went over the edge to roll down the slope. The three seated figures ignored the adventurers and continued rhythmically sorting the rock. They seemed to be immune to the unsettling influence of the constant pounding of the drums.

The mouth itself was almost tall enough to walk into - the lintel came down to Duncan's eye level - and a pace wide. The lintel had once been whitewashed white and labelled with a large IX in bold brush strokes. Over the years, the wash had faded and the paint chipped. Now the IX was only recognisable as the lichen refused to grow over the last traces of the paint. Elias led them inside.

Two wooden blocks on leather straps hung on pegs driven into the tunnel wall. A short, stubby candle was wedged into a hole in each block. Elias showed Duncan and Darmon how to strap the miner's lights to their temples, lit the candles with his tinderbox; the three set off cautiously into the darkness.

The tunnel ran straight and level for a hundred metres. At the end was a bottomless pit, a pace wide and a pace deep. Smiling confidently, Elias grasped hold of the flimsy-looking ladder bolted to the side of the hole and started climbing down. Darmon hung back, not trusting the way the ladder flexed and creaked. Faking calm, Duncan smiled encouragingly and pushed him forward. Fingering his charm one last time, the initiate stepped onto the ladder and started to climb. His light was quickly swallowed by the darkness.

Duncan turned slowly around. He could just about make out the walls, floor, and roof of the tunnel in the darkness. The tunnel mouth was an impossibly distant speck of pale yellow brilliance. Somewhere, something hissed and the level-headed labourer jumped. He could feel the mountain weighing down on his head. He'd never felt this lonely. Holding onto that thought, he grabbed hold of the ladder. It creaked alarmingly and sagged. He swore, waited for it to settle down, and cautiously climbed down after the others. He counted forty rungs before he felt a gentle hand on his leg and opened his eyes. Darmon was standing next to him, his eyes bright. Shaky but proud, Duncan climbed off the ladder and stood for a moment. The tunnel here was much larger - a handspan taller than he was, and two short paces across. Elias reappeared out of the darkness and gestured them forward. The pit was a silent as the tomb - Duncan shook his head violently, dislodging the thought.

The blasting store was a small cavern hollowed out from the end of a short turning side passage. Two small kegs of blasting powder stood on the floor on one side next to a coil of rope. Chisels, ropes, an empty keg, props, and other mining equipment were neatly stacked on the floor.

---Xavier and Aenarion in Pit 13---

The Elf led the way down the high tunnel. Xavier followed close behind, the tunnel too narrow to walk two abreast. They'd found four miner's lights in a neat row on pegs at the entrance. Mindful of the Alchemist's advice, they took all four, tucking the spare two into Xavier's belt.

The tunnel led straight on for twenty paces before veering left and upwards. The tunnel kinked every half dozen paces or so, turning left and right, up and down, and seemingly at random.

After two hundred paces or more a cubby-hole opened on the right hand side of the tunnel. A narrow ladder made from wooden staves a little thicker than a man's thumb disappeared up and down into darkness. Aenarion stepped past the ladder without appearing to notice it, so Xavier tapped him on the arm and cocked his head in the ladder's direction. The Elf just shook his head.

---End Turn---

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