Yesterday? And no one had informed him? The slim draconian opened his mouth to berate his underling-only to pause as the pair came to where the palace of the local ruler had once stood.
Once, this had been a fairly elegant abode that had towered over most of Krolus. The Cataclysm, however, seemed to have taken special interest in wreaking havoc on the building, for not only had a good portion of it disappeared beneath the swamp, but over time, rising water and vegetation had conquered the rest of the structure. Fearsome trees with sickly-green vines covered the interior. On all sides, the walls had crumbled or caved in.
Suspicious, Brudas halted. He knew that the Baaz hated their leader nearly as much as they feared him. Had their days in this monstrous ruin caused them to revolt? Did they hope to do away with him?
“Where are we going? Where is this supposed artifact, Drek?”
The lowly Baaz paused, gasping for breath. “You know how we could not find any way into the palace? Any way to reach the lower depthsss? There isss one!”
“Impossible! I led the search myself. Who found it?”
Drek had the audacity to look proud. “I did, Massster Brudasss!”
“Did you now? And how did you manage that?” To think that a Baaz could do what a Bozak could not…
Now the other draconian looked rather embarrassed. “I fell into it, mossst high one.”
Brudas laughed, despite himself. Yes, trust Drek to fall into a secret entrance. How else could this particularly useless creature succeed where more intelligent life failed? The laughter died as the Bozak considered the potential of what Drek had discovered. Surely the palace, of all places, held something.
“Lead me there-quickly!”
Drek did so, guiding Brudas along a path that circled widely until it brought them around to the back of the ruin, where a mountainous slab of wall rose at a precarious angle just above the water. Its dark but dry interior showed steps leading downward like a shaft. Small wonder that Brudas had not seen it earlier. Mud and swamp grass surrounded it on all sides.
“Hunnh,” the Bozak grunted. “Where are the others?”
“Below. Digging.”
“How deep does it descend?” Dare he hope?
Drek shrugged. “Four levelsss, four and a half if you count our digging.”
Better and better. “Lead on.” After a pause, “Good work, Drek.”
The Baaz beamed at this rare compliment. He leaped down the steps of the passage, but Brudas followed more carefully. The entrance just barely allowed him to use his staff, and the angle of the passage required the Bozak to grip one wall with his free hand.
The stench of rotting vegetation and other dead matter assailed his senses, but Brudas did not care. As his eyes became accustomed to the near dark, he noted the cracks in the walls, the moisture all around. Not the safest place.
After an eternity of a journey, Drek at last brought him to his prize. The other two Baaz, Molgar and Gruun, stood knee-deep in swampy water, trying their best to dig a stone doorway out from the mud and muck. They stepped aside when they saw their superior. Above them, a single oil lamp made visible not only their efforts, but the curious symbol on the door.
Although the swamp had tried its best, the colors of the three intertwined spheres carved into the door were still evident. White, red, and black-the signs of the old moons, the moons of magic. A nostalgic emotion rippled through the Bozak as he reached to touch the spheres, feeling their solidity. Even the fact that he was ankle deep in mud did nothing to dampen Brudas’s excitement. Yes, Drek had found a prize, indeed.
“Don’t just stand there, you dolts!” he snapped at the Baaz. “Finish digging the door free!”
Under his baleful gaze they performed the remainder of the task. The moment they finished, Brudas reached for the handle and tugged.
Nothing happened. He inspected the handle, saw that some lock mechanism kept him from whatever was inside. The Bozak, though, would not be defeated. Ordering the others back, the draconian raised his staff.
Not much magical power remained in the staff, but Brudas could not see why he shouldn’t expend some of its last precious energy on this doorway, clearly a sanctum of sorts for some great spellcaster, likely the court wizard.
Muttering the words, the draconian unleashed his spell on the lock.
Brudas stumbled back as the lock flashed and flamed. He spun around, glaring at the miserable trio of Baaz and looking for the one who had spoken the odd words. “Who dared interrupt me at such a crucial moment? My spell might have gone awry!”
The Baaz looked at one another confusedly, Drek finally daring to reply, “No one ssspoke, sssir! I sss- wear!”
The Bozak hissed, but did not pursue the matter. He could deal out punishments later. Greedily, Brudas returned his attention to the lock.
The spell had not worked as well as it should have. Frustrated, Brudas turned and studied the lock closer. Tiny plumes of smoke still rose from the blackened section. Not destroyed, as he had hoped, but certainly weakened. A shovel or pickax would finish the job nicely.
Backing away, Brudas commanded, “Drek! Your shovel! Strike the lock!”
Drek seized the tool and stepped to the door. Raising the shovel high, he let loose with his enviable strength, smashing the lock. The lock broke with a satisfying crack.
Breathing heavily, Drek stepped back. Anticipation rising, Brudas glanced at the other two apprehensive Baaz. “Open it!”
Molgar and Gruun swiftly obeyed. The muscles of the draconians strained, but the two soon had the great door ajar, enough to let a single figure squeeze through at a time. Seizing the oil lantern, Brudas thrust it in and swept it over the interior.
More water and mud greeted him. Nearly three-fourths of the chamber lay submerged. He couldn’t hope even to get inside more than a few yards.
A waste of time. If there were any artifacts within, the sloping floor would have sent them all deep down in the swamp, to a place not even Brudas could command the Baaz to go.
With hope fading, he swung the lamp around for one last inspection-and caught a glint of metal.
Brudas stared, at first certain he was mistaken, but, no, the tip of some metallic object was poking above the muck. The Bozak somehow sensed he had not simply found some bit of rusted tableware or old sword. No, Brudas could sense magic… the old magic.
“Drek! Over there! See that? Retrieve it! And be warned! If you lose it, you’d best just follow it to oblivion, understand?”
With a fearful nod, the Baaz strode into the ruined chamber. Brudas nearly held his breath, but Drek managed to pluck the relic free and return with it in only a couple of minutes.
“Give me that!” the Bozak demanded, fingers twitching in excitement.
The object that Drek anxiously passed on to him proved to be a bracelet of sorts, but of a design Brudas had never come across before. It seemed too large for either draconian or human wrists and far too bulky to be worn practically. Much of it had been fashioned out of silver that seemed to hint of moonlight, but what fascinated him most was the intricate centerpiece to the artifact, a crest with a horned, animal-skull design that hinted of the lost god Chemosh, lord of the dead.
Adding to its effect were two black stones flanking the skull design. Staring at them, the Bozak could have sworn that they flared briefly in response to his intense gaze. The stones appeared to be entities separate from the rest of the bracelet. Brudas sensed some spell attached to them, but the level of power paled in comparison to the rest of the relic.
One of the stones seemed slightly ajar, as if something had nearly knocked it free of its mounting. With great caution, Brudas brought one talon gingerly to the stone. He did not want to lose the stone by accident.
As his talon touched the ebony gem, a brief spark from the stone startled Brudas, nearly causing him to drop the entire bracelet.
Clutching the relic awkwardly in one hand, he glared at the three Baaz, but none of them looked as if they
