The sound of running feet behind them made them all turn. It was Gurin, scampering after them, seemingly none the worse for wear.
‘Well?’ he demanded with a scowl.
‘We got the lot,’ said Raya.
Maybe it was the flickering light from Brother Kane’s oil lamp, but Grim could have sworn he saw the dwarf crack a smile.
WIGHT’S HOLLOW
They left the Deepwood and made their way to the next dungeon on the list. Wight’s Hollow.
‘I ain’t dealing with no undead,’ Dog warned the group as they entered the Moors of Misery.
‘Don’t worry,’ Raya said. ‘If there ever was a wight in the caves there, it’s long gone now. More goblins and orcs on the menu, I suspect.’
‘You may have been spoilt by Deepwood,’ Gurin suggested to them. ‘Wight’s Hollow is a rather ordinary affair.’
The Moors were wet, and the moisture found its way under cloaks and through leather, to irritate, rub and chafe the skin. Grim was not immune, his feet becoming sore from carrying a three-headed ogre around by themselves. He muttered to himself under his breath, but he knew he would get no sympathy. His brothers, Og and Dog, were immune. They had never suffered from sore feet. But if he complained, they would simply say he was lucky to have feet. And of course, they were right. So he muttered to himself, while Og slept and Dog told stories.
‘The last time we encountered the supernatural was a funny affair. Remember, Grim?’
‘Aye,’ Grim replied curtly. Maybe it was his sore feet talking, but he didn’t recall the experience as being in the slightest bit funny.
‘I got myself bitten. I guess that’s a whole other story, feisty little ogress she was!’
Grim cleared his throat loudly, hoping it was enough of a signal for Dog to move on.
‘Anyway, turned out I got more than I bargained for. She was a werewolf.’
‘Really?’ Raya asked, putting a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle.
‘Yes. Next full moon, I turned. Spent the rest of the week trying to rip out Grim’s throat until he and Og located a witch who cured me. Remember, Grim?’
‘I’m hardly going to forget that, am I?’ Grim answered irritably.
Raya wasn’t even pretending not to laugh anymore, and Assata and Sandon were joining in as well.
‘For some reason,’ said Grim angrily, ‘having a slavering werewolf connected to me for a week, never more than a few inches from my face, constantly trying to sink its teeth into my neck, was not a great source of amusement to me.’
But the angrier he got, the funnier they all found it.
It must have been a gradual change, because Grim had not noticed any particular moment when it happened, but he found he was now walking on rocks, not moorland. The ground rose steadily. A cliff face began to materialise ahead of them; it was the dull grey colour of ogre skin, but at the base was a gaping black maw, as unmistakeable an entrance to a dungeon as you might find. Unlike Deepwood Dungeon, this had all the hallmarks of a natural formation, opening onto caves that must have been occupied ever since the first two-legged beings had made their way into Gal’azu.
They stopped by the entrance, reorganising themselves. Walking clothes were swapped for armour, and weapons were taken in hand, or at least placed within easy reach.
‘Well?’ Assata said, a nervousness in her voice. ‘Are we ready?’
They followed the barbarian to the dark cavern. A large opening in the cliff was revealed, stretching back much farther than Grim could see. The roof of the cavern was higher than Og or Dog could reach with their hands, but they could have touched it with their weapons. They entered, looking about them anxiously, wary of traps or an ambush. But the cavern was quiet and the only thing Grim could see was rock.
‘If I remember correctly,’ said Gurin from the front of the group, ‘there is a sizeable drop coming up. We had to climb down using rope to get to the dungeon proper last time.’
They walked a little farther before Gurin called out a warning. ‘Careful, now. We need to take a proper look around us. Let me get my torch.’
‘No need, friend dwarf,’ Sandon declared. ‘In the Magicians’ Tower in Quar-Del-Prin I studied the fire magic of the Ancient Lords Elemental. There I learned the implorations required to prevail upon the mighty demons of Tzitzuan to grant me the power to make fire and heat from the atmosphere around me. Should they be willing to listen and take heed of my supplications, all that is required is a click of my fingers and a flame shall appear.’ The wizard cleared his throat. ‘Oh Mighty, Haughty Demons of Tzitzuan—'
‘It’s alright, Sandon,’ Assata said.
The barbarian had lit her oil lamp and she now waved it about them.
Grim could see that the floor of the cavern did indeed suddenly end in what looked like a sizeable drop down into darkness. But he also saw some kind of wooden structure attached to the edge. ‘What’s that?’ he asked. Unable to point, Grim thrust his neck forwards until the others looked in the right direction.
Gurin went over to look, while Assata held her lamp close by.
‘Oh,’ the dwarf said, sounding disappointed. ‘Someone’s built some netting onto the side of the rock. Looks like it’s been nailed in securely. If it holds, it should be easy enough to climb down. I was rather hoping that we would be using rope. More of a challenge than this.’
‘Or I could have used my teleportation spell,’ said Sandon wistfully. ‘Been a while since I deployed that particular tool in my armoury. It’s a shame really, because I spent a good two years perfecting its use. This was back when I lived amongst the—’
‘I’ll go first,’ said Assata, handing her lamp to Gurin and pulling hard at the netting to make sure it would take her weight. She swung one leg over the edge of the drop, getting her first foot secure. Then she was off, grabbing it with her hands, while her second foot explored downwards. She moved quickly, strong and agile as a cat. Gurin held the torch over the edge so they could see her. But before long she had disappeared down into the darkness and Raya had scrambled onto the netting. Nimble as a squirrel, if anything she disappeared even faster.
Sandon and Brother Kane went next, neither of them as comfortable looking with the prospect of clinging to a rock face above what was probably a huge drop down.
‘Just as well I can’t see to the bottom,’ the wizard gasped, his limbs trembling.
Brother Kane maintained his beatific smile, though in the torchlight he did look a lot paler than usual.
‘I would suggest,’ Grim said to Gurin, ‘that you go next. There is no knowing whether that netting can hold our weight.’
The dwarf looked them over and nodded in silent agreement. He put out the lamp and returned it to his pack, then began scrambling down.
Three ogre heads peered over the ledge at the netting.
‘Now then,’ said Og. ‘This could be something of a challenge. We’re not the most co-ordinated of creatures.’
‘We can do it,’ Grim assured him. ‘Slow and steady; one limb at a time. We each tell the others when we have lifted a hand or a foot off, and when it is back down. Then the next one takes his turn.’