Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

staff free of his belt. He held the long rod before him. Several men with spears had now closed on the Quel. Two feinted from the left of the huge digger. When the Quel turned toward them, those on the right jabbed with their own spears. One caught the massive creature in the arm that had been wounded. This time, D’Marr’s adversary unleashed a shrill, unmistakable cry of agony. While it was thus occupied, the other lancers also attacked. Three spears penetrated the armored hide of the Quel.

So you do have a soft shell in places, the Aramite officer noted with some satisfaction. Like the creature it resembled, the Quel had less protection near the stomach region. That was not to say it was not protected well there, for two of the spears had snapped in that initial thrust, but of necessity the subterranean monster could not have as thick and hard a shell as it wore on its back. D’Marr had suspected as much from his time with the prisoner, but knew better than to trust that all the creatures were built the same way.

The Quel was staggering now, even its great stamina unable to compensate for the many dripping wounds. It took one last swipe at him and then began to back into the wall from which it had emerged.

“You’ll not be leaving us so soon,” hissed D’Marr. He thrust at the retreating Quel with his rod.

The wounded creature’s howl shook the tunnel and echoed on and on long after the huge figure had collapsed to its knees.

Orril D’Marr touched the tip of the rod to the armored head. He smiled with grim satisfaction as the Quel shivered, hooted mournfully, and finally slumped.

“Yesss . . . I thought all it needed was a little adjustment.” He looked from his conquered foe to his favorite toy. With the prisoner, he had overcompensated with the rod, killing the Quel. The short staff was a magical tool that he had inherited from his late predecessor, who had, in turn, paid dearly to have a sorcerer not of the keeper caste create it. It had thirty-two levels of pain, many of which could kill. The captive Quel had died from level twenty-one. He had given this one level twenty. D’Marr was quite pleased. Lord D’Farany would want hostages to question. It would make up for his earlier overzealousness.

The raider leader turned to aid in the other attacks, only to find that there were no longer any. He summoned one of the lesser officers.

The wolf raider, a bearded veteran named D’Roch who, like most of the men, had to look down at D’Marr, saluted him and nervously explained, “They simply withdrew, my lord. Right after that beast you took down howled.”

It seemed odd that they would abandon the attack simply because one of their number had fallen. Such cowardice went against the Aramite way. “How many were there?”

“Counting yours, sir, four.”

“Four?” D’Marr frowned slightly. They had only dared expend four of their kind in defense of the tunnel against a force the size of his? There was a piece of the puzzle missing. “This place is too lightly defended.”

It was clear that the other officer did not think so, but he was wise enough not to say anything.

A soldier returned D’Marr’s sword, carefully cleansed of all blood, to him. The young raider inspected the weapon, then sheathed it. The rod would serve him better, it seemed. With the blade, he would be dead long before he finished hacking up one of the beasts. They now feared the rod and D’Marr enjoyed nothing more than wielding fear.

He glanced down at the Quel. It still lived, if only barely. “Bind that thing tight and put it somewhere safe. Lord D’Farany may desire to see it.”

D’Roch saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“Re-form ranks. I see no reason why we shouldn’t continue on, do you?”

“No, sir. At once, sir.”

He had them under way in little more than a minute. They continued on down the passage, ever wandering deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth. Once more, the trek became quiet, uneventful. The wolf raiders remained wary, however, for they had fallen prey to that trap once already.

D’Marr tapped the side of the rod against his leg. Where are you, you cowardly monsters? Come out and play with me!

The men began to mutter among themselves. There were whispers of plots involving the collapse of the entire length of the tunnel. The notion had entered D’Marr’s mind earlier, but he had felt no need to mention it. Lord D’Farany had given a command and it was their duty to obey. Now, destroying the passageway did not even seem a likely trick, for if they had wanted to do it, he was certain that the Quel would have been better off if they had collapsed the passage earlier. They had not done so, preferring to risk themselves in more personal assaults that, to him, indicated again that something was amiss.

It was at the end of the passage that he found the first clue to the truth. The cavern that suddenly materialized before them took everyone by surprise, so accustomed had the raiders become to the narrow tunnel by that point. D’Marr pushed his way past the foremost rank and stared, his eyes drinking in everything. The mask of indifference barely remained in place, for although he had had time to contemplate the world of the Quel, the Aramite had failed to fully imagine its scope.

In a cavern that was nearly a world of its own, the vast city of the subterranean race silently greeted its invaders.

Enough of it resembled a human city that they understood instantly what it was. There were buildings that rose several stories and paths that could only be roads of a sort. Everything had been carved from the very rock. The path on which D’Marr found himself standing circled around the edges of the expansive cave. At various points, new tunnels branched off into the earth.

There was one peculiarity that would forever forbid anyone from thinking that humans had built this place, for while with great effort it would have been possible for men to carve out part of the city in the cavern walls, no human would have been able to live in places turned at such haphazard angles as these. Hundreds of gaps and outcroppings had been turned into tunnels and quite obvious living quarters, but to utilize them, the inhabitants would have had to virtually hang by their feet and hands at all times at heights that would have meant instant death to even the hardiest. Only creatures with long claws that could dig into rock would be able to make use of so peculiar a design. Only something like a Quel could call this home.

That the invaders could see all of this was the result of yet another marvel. Even despite the fact that they were likely hundreds of feet below the surface, the vast cave glowed as if the sun itself shone above the city. Instead of a burning orb, however, a fantastic array of crystals somehow gave off enough light to fill the chamber with day. Gazing up at them, Orril D’Marr knew that they were somehow linked to the outside, that, in a sense, the sun did shine on this subterranean spectacle.

“It appears to be a little larger than we expected,” D’Marr muttered to no one in particular. He was beginning to appreciate the Quel and what they had accomplished. He was also beginning to appreciate what he had been sent to face by Lord D’Farany.

Granting him command of the assault forces had not been so much a reward for the information he had recovered from the captive, but rather a punishment for killing the beast before all his knowledge could have been squeezed from him.

Somewhere, he was certain, the blue man was laughing.

As the wonder of the place faded, the reality of what he saw finally sank into D’Marr’s mind. Where are they? Where are the cursed little beasts?

“D’Roch.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Tell me what you see.”

The other raider frowned, not certain whether he was the focus of some game his superior was playing. He studied the city for a moment, hesitated, and then replied, “I see a vast underground city, the home of those abominations. It seems to be empty, but that shouldn’t be surprising since we’ve broken through their defenses.”

All in all, it was not a bad summation; the only one that could be given. Yet, it did not wholly describe what D’Marr saw and felt when he stared at the city of the Quel. “Nothing more?”

“Nothing.”

“And how long ago would you say that it had been abandoned? Minutes? An hour?”