"The last I heard, you abandoned your family when you joined the thieves guild, dwarf," the apparent leader retorted. "You abandoned whatever familial connections you have with the dwarves. I can't blame you for the change, of course, even if I cannot fathom why a human guild would want to have a dwarf among them. You're all merely fatter versions of kobolds with slightly better smithing skills."
Brahgen finally managed to force himself into a seated position and narrowed his eyes. "Why would you pursue me, then? If you came looking for the fucking barbarian and the weapon he was reputed to carry?"
"What? Did you think yer uncle was stupid?" The leader laughed. "We know you told the barbarian about the guild's plans and there are those who want you to pay for that kind of treachery. I don't know why they wouldn't simply let me kill you when I found you, of course. That's what you do when dealing with a rabid dog."
"I didn't betray the guild!"
"Then how did you know to not be present for the fight that got most of them killed?"
"I was warned by Ahverna."
"The goddess?" The human smirked and shook his head. "Now why the hell would a human goddess care to save your pathetic two inches?"
He narrowed his eyes. "You truly hate dwarves, don't you?"
"I would have to care about you to hate you. All I care about is having to share cities with pests like you tiny creatures. You might as well have stayed in your mountains and saved decent folk the trouble of having to deal with you."
Brahgen had heard that kind of rhetoric before and while he wanted to continue taunting the man, there would be trouble given that he was still bound and a sword rested on his captor’s hip.
Infuriated by both the mercenary’s arrogance and his helplessness, he decided he would find time to mock the man's primitive views on dwarves but at a more appropriate moment. Preferably not when he was still tempted to kill him.
The leader straightened and glowered at his men. "Well then, will none of you bring me the fucking barbarian's head?"
The group exchanged a quick look before one of them stepped forward.
"The man's already been struck with the darts," he pointed out. "And since he doesn’t carry the ax you told us about, there isn't much point. It is still a dungeon. We have what we came for. There is no point in risking our lives for no reason."
The leader seemed about to break out in a rage over what had been said but he caught himself immediately and calmed quickly.
"That…is a sound point. But we don't want the godsbedammed shit-for-brains to pursue us should we wake from however much poison is swimming through his veins. Put a few more traps outside and we can start heading northeast."
"Where the hells is that?"
He narrowed his eyes. "We can see the sun now, yes? The fog has lifted, quite literally."
The rest of the group continued to look blankly at him.
"Right. Put your left shoulder to the sun and point a little to the right, you brainless oaf. Have you never traveled without a compass before?"
"What the fuck is a compass?"
"It's what I fuck your mother with!" Brahgen shouted as he scrambled to his feet for mere moments before one of the mercenaries hit him hard enough to topple him again.
The golden-haired leader rolled his eyes as the rest of the men began to prepare the traps in case Skharr managed to get out. It was probably a good idea, even if the dwarf hated them for it. Before he could find his feet again, one of the men hefted him unceremoniously and tossed him over his shoulder like he was a sack of grain as the group began to move out again.
It was all his fault, the dwarf realized as he watched the dungeon recede slowly from view. He had been lost in congratulating himself and hadn’t listened to his companion when the barbarian tried to warn him that something was wrong. He'd said it was the most dangerous part of a mission and yet he'd moved forward regardless and been captured, and his foolishness had likely killed the barbarian as well.
Indirectly, of course. The mercenaries were to blame for it but a hint of the blame lay squarely on his shoulders as well.
"I don't know if you're listening," Brahgen whispered. "You never did in the past. But Skharr needs your help."
"Shut it, you!"
It was extremely odd. It wasn't like most things in the world ever lived up to expectations, but when someone talked about a dungeon, this was almost exactly what came to mind.
A barrow with a tunnel leading into untapped depths. It was probably one of the oddest things she'd ever seen.
The landscape did feel like it was changing, however. The lack of a malevolent force on the island was always a good way to start. Even magic that wasn't malevolent had a tendency to leech from the earth that surrounded it. Now it was gone, it would begin to return to normal and correct itself.
She liked the thought that it would heal itself. Perhaps that was the most magical sight of all. Most humans didn't appreciate the concept since it happened so slowly but in the end, it would be here when humans and their mighty cities and empires were nothing but dust.
When she had almost reached the barrow’s opening, she crouched and narrowed her eyes to inspect the devices that had been set up around it.
"A trap," she muttered, plucked one of the long, silk strands, and watched a series of light darts bury themselves in the mound. The poison they were tipped with was noxious simply to smell, and she had no intention to see what they were like up close. She moved closer to the entrance and paused a little shy of the shadow cast into the opening by the setting sun.
There was no way to tell who had created the dungeon. Too many had gone power-mad and hog-wild in creating these places and some of them did not appreciate having unauthorized visitors.
Still, she slipped through and waited for something to happen—a crackle of energy or some sign of annoyance—but only silence greeted her. She shrugged, moved in deeper, and approached the soft sounds she could hear issuing from inside.
They sounded like they were coming from something big although she couldn't quite determine what it was precisely.
"Ah, a human," she muttered and approached the fallen figure. "I suppose I should have guessed."
He was a large one too—powerfully muscled with bright red hair—and was armed to the teeth, although seven of the darts she'd avoided outside protruded from him.
At least he was alive, although from the way his body twitched and the soft sounds he made, he was lost in a deep dream and not the pleasant kind. A bright sheen of sweat covered his skin and his brows furrowed as whatever he faced in his nightmare demanded his full attention.
She knelt beside him and rested a hand on his forehead. There would be no harm in seeing what caused him to worry so. Hopefully, it would allow her to bring him out of the nightmare.
The fight seemed to have gone on forever.
His limbs felt like they were carrying lead instead of meat and bone. Even the weapon he wielded, once light and nimble, now felt as clumsy as a club.
But he refused to stop. He couldn't. The battle wasn't over and the enemy continued to attack in waves. Their armor was brilliant silver and bore the colors of the Red Dragon. They renewed their assault and another wave surged forward.