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"Which way?" Ragnar asked. "Looks like we can follow this passage. I'd bet there is another of those hidden doorways across there." He pointed with his axe toward the alcove opposite. "Not so secret anymore with that trail to follow."
The passage floor was covered in a layer of dried blood that curved into the alcove and disappeared against the blank wall at its back.
"Yes." Emiel agreed looking at the bloodtrail distastefully. "The eastern guardroom is beyond that door." then gesturing toward the long hall to their left that went deeper into the complex, he said "Down the corridor is the entrance to the main chambers. Hmmm...." he wavered indecisively.
"Let's see if we can find someone alive." Ted spoke up. "That," he said pointing to the dried blood, "doesn't make me think were going to find a welcome home party on the other side."
Ragnar knelt and brushed a finger across the dark stain. He looked it over in the lantern light noting a few small flakes and a small outline of grey. He reached over and ran another finger along the unmarked floor of the corridor. Holding it up to the light his finger showed a greyish black grit.
"Looks like the bloods been there for a little time." he said showing Emiel the grime on his fingers. "Its picked up a coating of dust already."
"How much time?" Emiel asked
"No way to tell." Ragnar said. "Not offhand. How dusty is this place?"
"Dust!" Ted exclaimed angrily "Thats probably someone I knew, and you want to know how dusty this hole is?"
"Thaddeus." Emiel said quietly but with unmistakable menace. "I'm getting sick and tired of your outbursts. I won't tell you again. You will be quiet and stay calm. Do you understand." he commanded.
"yes" said in hushed whisper. Without moving an inch he seemed to withdraw, stepping into the shadow of Emiel's authority.
Ragnar looked on with an uncomfortable eye. Any warrior of his clan would die rather than submit to such a rebuke, even a thrall from his homeland would show more backbone.
"Now, I'm sorry to say I don't know." Emiel said to Ragnar. "I never paid attention to such details. What is your guess?"
"Days." Ragnar said looking at the dark grime on one finger and the light grey dusting on the other. "But not weeks. Two, three days I'd wager."
"Recent." Emiel muttered. "I don't believe in coincidence." he said. "We return and the meeting place is infested with orcs and goblins, no one was at the hideaway or left a message, and now this. Something is very wrong."
Ragnar walked to the back of the alcove following the trail of dried blood. He placed a broad hand against it. The stone underneath felt solid through and through. He gave a push, but it was as massive and unmoving as any other block of stones along the hall.
"Yes." Emiel said coming to a decision. "Let's see what has happened here. My imagination is worse than anything that could be behind that door." He slipped the key into the unseen lock and turned it with a click.
* * *
The door slid open only a few inches then stuck. There was no handle to draw it back and no one wanted to risk their fingers between the door's edge and the wall.
All three lined up and braced their shoulders against the hidden door. They heaved and pushed till veins stood out and their shoulders bruised, but the door, ground open only a single inch and would go no further.
"It's jammed." Emiel said breathing hard.
"The base is almost flush with the floor." Ragnar kneeled down to examine it. "I doubt I could get a knife blade between."
Emiel drew the lantern down and directed its light into the small opening. It showed only a handsbreadth of wall beyond. "I feel almost relieved." he said. "Nothing has passed this way since..." he began.
"Maybe." Ragnar broke in while Emiel paused. "I'd guess that way myself, but we don't know for sure. Never rely on guesswork, but we cannot enter, so it matters not."
"Right then." Emiel shrugged his shoulders. "The choice is made for us." He gave one last look at the blocked doorway then led them down the hall deeper into the dungeon.
* * *
A noisome smell, carried by a thin breath of air, wafted toward them from ahead. Emiel slowed his pace as his nose twitched at its contact. Behind him, Ted let a small sound escape, a sob perhaps or maybe just a gasp. Ragnar tightened his grip on his axe, his knuckles showing white with the strain.
Along the wall a third pair of alcoves were set. Like the first these too appeared abandoned, but without sign of blood or conflict. As they passed them by Ragnar noted a face of stone projecting from the wall at their backs. Each bore the likeness of some stern-faced dwarf. The large broad noses, heavy beards and bushy brows could belong to no others. Cloth of some sort was clamped in their jaws.
"What are those?" Ragnar asked Emiel in a whisper.
"Don't touch them." Emiel replied with some alarm.
Ragnar had been intending to do just that. He had taken a step toward the right-hand alcove as soon as he had asked. "Are they dangerous?"
"No, not dangerous." Emiel eyed them with dislike "But they are very annoying."
"What?" Ragnar did not understand.
"They'll never shut-up if you take the rags out." Emiel. "I'd much rather have them remain silenced."
Such things always roused Ragnar's curiosity. Like a child with a new toy he delighted in magical creations. That was what brought him into Master Talberth's service to begin with, back during the fighting in Sterich.
Reluctantly he left the magic mouths to their unwilling aphony and returned to his place beside Emiel.
They had taken only a few steps past the alcoves when the corridor came to an end.
Stairs, a small flight of them, were ahead. They ran up to a higher level, though still well below the surface of the slope outside, and ended in a large curved chamber.
It was on these steps that they found the first body, though its head was not to be seen. The body of a man, armored in chain links, a shield, still strapped to his left arm, lying across his chest.
He had fallen backwards down the steps, a wash of blood showed his descent and a large dried pool had formed at the bottom. The crownless neck faced them, his legs stretched out toward the landing above and his right arm twisted at an unnatural angle, as if he reached to scratch some itch between his shoulders. A sword of some gold-hued metal lay at the foot of the stair.
Ragnar, Emiel and Ted, all three stopped and stared at the dead man. A moment passed before they took another breath.
"It looks like Patel." Ted said with a disbelieving voice.
"It does." Emiel agreed. He lifted the shield and turned back the arm. Three broad scars ran from the heel of the hand down over the wrist. "It is."
"Where is his head." Ted asked but he did not question, rather expressed a thought that all three shared.
Emiel ignored him. Instead he gripped the body, Patel, a friend, a bloodless kin, and brought him from his uncomfortable perch upon the stone steps and gently rested him upon the floor.
Ragnar stared up the gore-coated stairs to the chamber above. An arm lay across the summit dangling a lifeless hand over the edge of the top step. No more was to be seen from below.
His task done, his friend Patel at some semblance of peace, both arms straightened at his side, the scarred and battered shield covering both chest and gaping wound, Emiel picked up the fallen sword and weighed it in his hand.
A short blade, finely made, straight and double-edged. It had a strange cup-like guard and shown as a dull gold under the lanterns light. As his hand closed around its hilt, Emiel felt an almost electric thrill run through his body and a voiceless murmur spoke to him.
"Sunne." it whispered and then was silent.
"You ok?" Ragnar asked him with some concern.
"Fine, yes, fine." He said. Emiel eyed the golden sword with speculation.
Ragnar took the steps two at a time, not eagerly, but they were carved for the tread of a much smaller man. Emiel was but one step behind and since the stairway was broad, ascended along the right. The way ahead of him clear of the big barbarian.
The chamber was as wide as it was long and had great valves of metal, three massive doors, set to the north, the west and the east, along a curving stone wall. The ceiling arched high above them and at its center held a flat disc of glass or crystal. It ate the lantern's light and threw back three powerful beams which washed over the metal face of each door.
* * *
(To Be Continued)