Chapter 20
“Well, that could have gone much worse,” Grignasch panted as he loped into the darkness, Gondell under one arm, a heavy pack under the other. “When those pale skinned fools took you into their group I said to myself, 'Well Grignasch, this complicates our plan, but you are clever and resourceful, there has to be a way for me to rescue my little mouse,' and see, just as I promised, I have whisked you away to safety, never doubt your friend Grignasch's sincerity.”
Gondell could have cried at that moment, he hadn't forgotten his hastily concocted plan with the greedy Goblin, but as the Guild ambush had been planned for the same location, he had dismissed the threat. How was I to know he would act early? I could never have guessed, he bemoaned yet another stroke of ill luck. But maybe the Guild agents are watching even as we run. They would surely follow back along the trail if they are unaware of what happens now. They know that I am their precious keeper, they will not give up the search, I will be found quickly.
His rescue had come in a blur of confusion and hissing, urgent fingers grasping, and a hand across his mouth. In one hopeful moment he thought of the Guild, sneaking liberation rather than frontal assault, and in that split second Steig and Gradden came to mind with a rush of relief, they would survive. But that relief and optimism were short lived as Grignasch's unlovely leering features came swiftly into focus.
“Quiet,” Grignasch hissed, “It is time for us to leave.” In hindsight Gondell realised that he should have reacted, shouted, even squealed. But shock held his voice as his wits deserted.
If I had shouted, the men would have rid me of this menace, he thought as the Goblin jogged steadily across the plains, now I'm really in a mess, what if the Guild aren't watching, what if they are all at the ponds or whatever they're called, on the edge of the desert? But there is still hope, Gradden is alert, he will soon realise that I have gone.
Gondell listened intently for the first sounds of commotion behind, his confidence in Man efficiency and alertness high. But his listening proved to be in vain, for his disappearance would not be discovered until the break of day, and his friend Gradden lay in the dry grass on the edge of their temporary camp. His blood soaking into the thirsty earth.
“What is this place?” Gondell asked in amazement, “I thought that the plains were featureless and barren, just grass and ticks and nothing else.”
“Not barren to those that know,” chuckled Grignasch evilly. “They don't know these places, but I do, oh yes Grignasch knows a great many things that are hidden to others. Before the great war, these plains had many peoples, and even more animals. I stumbled upon this place while on deep patrol, long abandoned and forgotten, deserted and quiet. You will like it here until I return, a nice little mouse hole to keep you safe and secure.”
Gondell eyed the metal trapdoor suspiciously, overgrown with thick and course grass, he realised it would be impossible to detect unless a searcher stood right beside or on top.
“There was much industry in the old days, and there were many mines like this, lots of deep dark tunnels. The old people found precious stones, and gold here, until it ran out. But that is fortunate for us, it helps our plan. The secret of this place is ours alone, it is lost to all other memory.”
Grignasch hunted in the grass for a few minutes before stooping to flip over a flat stone, “Let me open the front door for you,” he grinned brandishing an ancient and rusted key. “It has been many years since last I came here, but I am sure it will have changed little, underground there is a good supply of water, so you will not suffer thirst like those who insist on following the road, and I have brought you fine food to last for weeks.”
He pushed the key into a huge and solid looking forged iron padlock, and to Gondell's dismay the key turned easily. Well, I don't fancy my chances of finding any escape on my own, if you gave me a hammer, and a week, I doubt I could break that lock.
The heavy door squealed on corroded hinges as the Goblin heaved it open letting it fall flat on the dry grass with a heavy thud, revealing a dark square tunnel. Gondell squinted in the strong moonlight, silver beams illuminating stone carved steps that led down into the darkness.
“Are you sure it is safe?” asked Gondell dubiously, “If it's from before the Great War, it must be over a thousand years old, surely the supports and lintels will have rotted away to dust.”
Grignasch laughed and grasped the Gnome by his shoulder, ushering him toward the pit. “Have no fear, these mines were dug with great skill, you will find no wood down there, only hard stone, these shafts will still be good after many more thousands of years have passed.”
Hesitantly Gondell shuffled onto the first step and peered below, “There is light?” he gasped, “But how?”
“There is something in the bedrock, an ore of some kind,” Grignasch replied, “An ore that gives a strange luminance, ever it is the same, day or night, winter or summer, always some faint light. You should thank me, for I have found you a comfortable home until I return.”
Panic began to flood Gondell's mind, but he clamped his jaw firmly. Yes, if Grignasch is killed in the attack tomorrow, then I am probably doomed to die alone in this deserted place. Yet if I alert him, not only do I sentence many good soldiers and agents to death, but I also guarantee that I will be delivered to Kangan, and isn't that what I'm trying to avoid... regardless of the personal cost?
He took a few tentative steps down, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the low light. Now look on the more positive side, he urged himself, if Grignasch is killed, surely they will come searching for me, he must have left a clear trail here... I hope, and if he doesn't die, well, then he will return for me, probably alone, and we still have the desert ahead of us before I can be delivered to Kangan. That gives me a few more days to hunt for an opportunity or some good luck. I stand a much greater chance of escaping from a solitary guard, rather than over one hundred.
Feeling a little more positive he reached the bottom of the steps and stood staring in awe. The tunnel opened into a hall of sorts, not wide or high or structurally impressive, no great work of skill or ingenuity, but breathtaking all the same, for the walls glowed with a soft green light, the veins of luminous mineral tracing intricate patterns in the dull and hard surrounding rock. “It's really quite beautiful,” he gasped, “I wish we could get such stone back at home, I would be the envy of the county.”
“If times and circumstances were different, we would quarry here, as partners.” Grignasch chuckled quietly, “But sadly for you, my valuable little mouse, our destinies lead us down a different path.”
That had been a good many hours before, and as Gondell heard the heavy trap door clang down, and the old padlock click, he felt a weariness envelop him. I can explore later, he told himself through a wide yawn, I think I have plenty of time to look around because I don't think I'm going anywhere quickly. And curling up with the pack as his pillow, he drifted into a deep sleep.
Now for many, to be locked in those tunnels would appear a horror. But not pragmatic Gondell, he was, after all, accustomed to tunnel life, so he woke feeling refreshed and filled with a strange feeling of optimism.
“Now then, let's take a look around,” he told himself aloud after a frugal breakfast of cured meat and several sips from his bottle. I need not worry over much about water, I can smell it everywhere, it's just a matter of finding it. But what does make me wonder... how well did that sneaky old Goblin explore these mines? Not completely I would guess, so I might just get lucky and find another entrance. “Probably locked,” he added aloud, his voice echoing from the low stone ceiling. Probably, but that doesn't stop me looking... and hoping. And with an irrational positivity he began to explore.
The mines had been abandoned over twelve hundred years before, and when completely worked out and worthless, the ancient miners had left behind an intricate labyrinth of tunnels and branches, exploratory delvings and well worked faces. A veritable maze. Yet Gondell strode forward with confidence. It is a
n amazing fact that tunnelling peoples have a remarkable sense of direction when underground, and aided by the green glowing walls Gondell wandered with impunity. He met many dead ends, short shafts that had chased seams of precious metals until the vein tapered away and pinched down to nothing, and there, digging had stopped. But many other branches continued, some snaked their way through the bedrock to terminate in deep store rooms, or annexes, others dipped down into still and cold water. I will explore these last, Gondell decided, being very aware that he had no change of clothes, but also painfully aware that he had not washed in many days. Let me exhaust all of the possible exits first, after that I can think about washing clothes or scrubbing myself. And so, after many hours of advancing and backtracking, he finally satisfied himself that the mine had only one entrance, and hence only one exit, the way that he had entered, a way locked with iron.
“Well well Gondell lad,” he told himself as he sat on the steps naked, his clothes dripping away on a makeshift line that he had improvised from the leather straps from the back pack. He peered up at the imposing trap door above and shook his head, Either a full day has already passed, which I doubt greatly, or that door is so snug that it allows no daylight through its seams, which is far more likely. It looks like the only thing to do is sit and wait.
And wait he did, for what felt like all of eternity.