Chapter Fourteen
The next morning the adventurers rose early and had a breakfast of tasteless, dried vegetables.
They soon reached the foot of Nenwé mountain, and began the search for the entrance to the ancient mines.
They rode along the base of the mountain at a slow walk for two hours, searching for anything that might resemble an entrance. But all they saw was smooth, bare stone.
Then they passed a clump of pine trees.
Andrew stopped. "Don't these trees seem a bit out of place? There are no other trees growing around the base of the mountain."
"You're right," said Greybeard. "They may be hiding something. We should search behind them."
They rode through the pine trees towards the mountain. Sure enough, the trees were hiding a dwarf-made passage that cut deep into Nenwé.
"The horses won't make it through the dark mines," said Greybeard. "We should abandon them."
They took their packs from the horses and set them free. They followed the stone passageway for about five hundred feet. The stone rose steadily higher on either side of them. Andrew looked up. The sky was now a thin sliver from his perspective.
At about five hundred feet they reached a large, iron door. It was covered with writing in a strange lettering system. It appeared to Andrew like a cross between Egyptian-style hieroglyphics, and another archaic alphabet.
Andrew pushed at the door. It was locked.
Set in the stone wall next to it was a cluster of three rusty metal wheels, forming the shape of a triangle. There were also two metal levers protruding from the side of the mountain, adjacent to the wheels.
Greybeard studied the writing. "This is ancient Dwarvish. I think it's a code. The dwarves of the Nenwé mines protected themselves from invading outsiders. There are a total of nine riddles inscribed here. The wheels must be turned and the levers pulled in correct sequence, nine times. The riddles' solutions will tell one how many times to turn each wheel, and when to pull the levers. It is quite ingenious. Only one with sound knowledge of dwarfish history and lore, and not to mention language, will be able to crack the code and open this door. All outsiders are locked out."
"Only dwarves can crack the riddle?" Andrew asked.
"Yes. Little did Tharangur's dwarves know that it would be their own brother dwarves who would betray them in the end," said Greybeard bitterly.
"You can really read that?" Andrew asked.
"The dialect is very old. But then again, so am I"
Greybeard set to work on the puzzles of the iron door while Andrew watched. He solved the first riddle fairly quickly, turning the top wheel once, then the right wheel six and a half times, followed by the left one four times, before pulling both levers simultaneously. The numbers and sequence he learnt from the solutions of the riddles.
The next two went by equally as quick. The fourth took somewhat longer to figure out, about twenty minutes. The fifth and sixth riddles took about ten minutes apiece.
Greybeard muttered as he worked, and Andrew caught snippets of sentences. "Number of wives of Thelgorin... amount of levels in the lower Black Mines... iron rings of Fordlun the third..." and so on, all about ancient Dwarvish lore, myth, and legend.
The seventh riddle had Greybeard stumped. It was a full hour and a half before he finally cracked it, and was able manipulate the wheels and levers in proper sequence.
"I'm already glad that I asked you to come, Greybeard," Andrew said. "Without you, I could spend hundreds of years here trying to break the code, and I would still be no closer to cracking it."
Greybeard smiled.
The eighth riddle went by quickly. It was the number of stones on Tharangur's crown, then the daughters of Bulnark the Third, followed by the number of heads on Mistaan, the dragon that Kelnas Hero slayed.
The ninth, and final riddle took half an hour for Greybeard to solve.
And finally, with the number of elf-princes murdered by Renglas the Bandit—four and a half, since one was only half elf—Greybeard rotated the last of the rotations in the code. "Now we shall finally see if I was right, or if I will need to start all over again from the very beginning."
He pulled the right lever, then the left one. There was a rumbling sound, as the machinery behind the wall clanked into place. The grinding sound lasted a full thirty seconds. It was followed by an audible 'click', as the bolt behind the iron door swung back. They were in.
"All right!" said Andrew. "I think we may need to add onto your name, Greybeard."
"Add onto my name? Wha' for?"
"Ganvian Greybeard, S.M.A., H.D.L.L. Supreme Master of Adventure, High Dwarvish Lore Lord."
Greybeard grinned. "That sounds all right. But there are dwarves who know five times what I do in these subjects. Perhaps we should add somethin', but change it to L.D.L.L., Low Dwarvish Lore Lord."
They both laughed, and the tension of entering the treacherous mines was eased somewhat.
Andrew swung open the door. He was greeted with a gloomy darkness.
"Well c'mon," said Greybeard. They lit their torches, and entered.
The way ahead was a small stone passage that sloped ever downwards, leading deep into the bowels of the mountain. The mines had an air of abandonment and decay to them. Cracked candle holders littered the passageway.
They had walked about a thousand feet, when they encountered three more doors.
Greybeard read the ancient writing. "The one on the left is what we need."
They followed the left most passageway. It twisted its way through the heart of the mountain. They passed by many doors.
They encountered bones from the dwarves of Tharangur's times wherever they went. The flickering torchlight cast an eerie glow onto the grinning skeletons.
The many tunnels that snaked their way into the great mountain had Andrew thinking of anthills. Huge anthills, were tremendous ants thrived.
He imagined what it must have been like in its glory days, when thousands upon thousands of busy dwarves bustled about the lit tunnels, carrying loads of metal and ore. All working in tandem, like a giant ant colony, to mine the ore and fashion items from the metal.
"Tharangur ruled many mines," said Greybeard, breaking the silence. "But Nenwé Mine in its glory was one of his crown jewels. One of its main products was silver. It is said that at the height of their existence, the Nenwé mines produced fifty-five heaping cartloads of silver each and every day."
They forged on, and Greybeard continued to read the old dwarfish signs that were stamped onto brass plates and affixed to the walls by the light of his torch. Although many of them were rubbed out and not readable, while many others were missing completely.
"Soon we must cross over to another passageway," said Greybeard.
They came to a door that was slightly larger than the rest.
"This is the one. We must pass through this room." Greybeard pushed the door. It didn't budge. He put his shoulder to it, and pushed harder. The door moved half an inch.
"Come on Andrew, help me out."
Andrew put his shoulder to the door, and together they pushed with all of their might. It moved a little... then gave way completely. They tumbled into the room.
The amount of skeletons that greeted Andrew's eyes was staggering. Tens and tens of the eerie things were strewn throughout the room. Many were piled atop one another.
The room itself was quite large. There were lots of anvils and forges scattered around the area. So this was where they would work the metal.
"Looks like there was a fierce battle here," said Andrew.
There were bits and pieces of unshaped metal still on the anvils and forges. "Yes, and it took them without warning," said Greybeard. "A day like any other. Tharangur's dwarves were working the metal like they always would, when the invasion was thrust upon them. They were unprepared, and unwarned."
Andrew spied smit
h hammers in the hands of many of the dead dwarves. "The dwarves of Nenwé weren't even armed. They fought back with whatever was on hand."
All in all, it was a dreary and disheartening scene. The dwarves of the Nenwé mines invaded by their own brother dwarves. A desperate battle that had been won by no one, save Death himself.
They crossed through the room. Andrew tried not to trod on the bones strewn about, but it was all but impossible.
Suddenly, they heard a clattering sound coming from the corner, behind a large anvil.
Greybeard drew his sword. "It might be ulthars!" he whispered. Andrew's heart beat a little faster...
They tiptoed towards the source of the sound. Greybeard crept up to the anvil and eased around the corner. Then he sprang out from the other side, sword drawn, ready to battle the ulthar to the death.
But there was no ulthar, only some small, brown, furry creatures. They had three eyes on the corners of their triangular shaped faces, and a mouth at their neck. They were slightly larger than squirrels, and were nibbling on some bones.
"Nivla," spat Greybeard. "They will eat anything. Wood, bone. They are even known to nibble on stone. Shoo! Go find some nivla bones to chew on, and leave my brothers in peace!"
The creatures scampered off into the shadows.
They exited the forge room, and entered yet another drab stone hallway. They walked for a while through the musty, dreary passages. At length they reached a cluster of five doors, arranged in a semi-circle.
Greybeard read the dwarvish inscriptions. He stopped by the fourth one. "En Banden Krunaiv Nel. The Prince's Dining Hall. This should lead to the south-western portion of the mines, which will eventually lead to an exit near the path of Nenwé. With any luck, we'll make it out of here without an ulthar encounter. Come on, let's go!"
They entered the room. The torch light showed a large cavern, with a magnificent arched ceiling.
Andrew looked around . There were two rows of stone pillars which reached up to the roof. They were carved into statues of dwarves in battle poses, and inlaid with jewels. They had become deformed over the years, and most of the jewels had been pried off and taken by the pillaging ulthars.
Greybeard stared. "Wow. Few mines today can rival what this once was for size and beauty. But her very beauty had a hand in her downfall."
"How so?" Andrew asked.
"Jealousy can be a powerful motivator."
There was a large table in the center of the room. It was cracked down the middle. Bones and silverware lay strewn about.
Two regal silver chairs sat empty at the head of the table, attached to the floor and thereby safe from the plunder of the ulthars. There were many wooden chairs lying about, some of which showed signs of gnawing by the pesky nivla.
"Greybeard, are you surprised that we haven't met any ulthars yet?" Andrew asked.
"I have been leading us through the upper regions of the mines, in the hope of avoiding the ulthars entirely. They much prefer the lower levels. Even in the times of Tharangur King, there was always an ulthar presence in the very deepest parts of the mines. The ulthars first arose from Darkness, eons ago, and it is darkness that they are still drawn to, to this day."
They left the prince's hall behind them, and entered a short hallway which opened right away into a tremendous cavern. Light emanated from the very depths of the huge void.
"Light means fire, and fire means ulthars," Greybeard whispered. "We had best extinguish our torches as we proceed. We must also be quiet, if we hope to pass unnoticed. Like wraiths."
The cavern was crisscrossed by many stone bridges. "A bridge for every level," said Greybeard.
Andrew saw one stone bridge above them, and many more below. They were on the second level of the mines.
Andrew and Greybeard crept out onto the stone bridge. Ulthar-like noises floated up from the depths to reach Andrew's ears. Crazed laughter. High pitched screams, like someone being tortured. The sounds echoed off the cavern walls so that it sounded like a whole chorus of screaming ulthars.
A shiver ran up Andrew's spine. It was quite unnerving, to say the least.
They were almost at the midway point, when Greybeard froze. "Ulthars."
Andrew looked down, and saw through the darkness a band of creatures proceeding along the bridge of the fourth level, two levels below. His first ulthars.
They were some of the most misshapen, foul looking things that Andrew had ever seen. Their green-yellow skin was mottled and scarred. They walked hunched over, long arms nearly touching the floor. Some even scampered along on all fours, like animals.
They were misshapen. Some with extra limbs or facial features, other missing. No two looked alike, each deformed in its own unique way.
The company passed by below. Andrew breathed a sigh of relief that they hadn't been noticed.
The adventurers passed over the remainder of the stone bridge and exited the huge cavern, leaving the ulthars and their screams behind, hopefully for good.
“We should make camp for the night,” said Greybeard.
“Okay,” Andrew said.
They slept on the stone floor with their packs as pillows.
In middle of the night, Andrew felt something pushing against his chest. He woke with a start, to find the point of Greybeard’s sword against his chest.
“I’m sorry Andrew,” Greybeard said. “But I need your blood, mortal blood, to open a chest that contains an ancient, valuable relic.”
“Wha, what do you mean,” Andrew sputtered. “What about the quest? What about finding Teltibane?”
“Andrew,” Greybeard said. “It is time to die.”
“How can you betray me like this?” Andrew asked. “I trusted you to help me on my journey.”
Then Andrew noticed a blue gleam coming from around Greybeard’s neck.
“What’s that on your neck?” Andrew asked.
“It’s a necklace. I found it in the next room a few minutes ago,” Greybeard answered.
“Greybeard, don’t you see? The necklace is cursed. That’s what’s giving you the motivation to kill me. Please, take it off. You are not yourself with it on.”
For a moment Andrew saw a glimpse of the old Greybeard, the loyal Greybeard, in the dwarf’s eyes. He reached for his neck. Slowly, ever so slowly, closer and closer. Greybeard’s hand shook. It was getting more and more difficult for him to move his hand closer to the necklace. The necklace didn’t want to be removed. It fought back.
“I, I can’t,” Greybeard said. Then the necklace constricted around his neck. “I will die if I try to take it off.”
“Hold on Greybeard, let me help you,” Andrew said.
Andrew grabbed his katana and slipped the blade under the necklace. Then he pulled, slicing the string. Eight blue gems cascaded towards the ground.
Greybeard dropped his sword, and fell to his knees, gasping for breath. The curse was broken.
“Is there really a chest that contains an ancient relic here, one that needs a mortals blood to open?” Andrew asked.
“Aye there is,” Greybeard answered. “That was one of the reasons I agreed to come on this quest. To find this relic. Let me show you, it’s not far from here.”
They walked for a couple of minutes through the mines, until they reached a large iron chest, engraved with dwarvish writing.
“I don’t know how much blood is required thought,” Greybeard said. “May I prick your arm and get a little blood from you? Perhaps that will suffice.”
“Okay,” Andrew said.
Andrew held out his arm, and Greybeard made a small incision. Droplets of blood dripped onto the top of the chest.
They waited a minute, and then tried to open it. But it was stuck firmly shut.
They Greybeard examined the writing on the chest.
“Yes, it says that the mortal must be killed for it to work.”
Andrew drew his swor
d. If it was his blood the dwarf was after, he would need a fight to get it.
“The necklace brought out the worst in me,” Greybeard said. “But I would not commit murder just for this relic. You can sheath your sword, Andrew.”
Andrew breathed a sigh of relief and sheathed the katana. They returned to their packs and went back to sleep, the ordeal of the necklace over.