Winds of Fate Page 4

  Miurat dove into the whole history of the mines. Engis listened in next to me, although he didn’t catch the whole thing.

  It turned out that, at one point, the mines were the biggest supplier of gold and diamonds for the entire continent, and they kept up a steady supply of other jewels as well. Master dwarves lived there picking away at the rock, cutting the stones they found and setting them in jewelry pieces they also created. Wars waxed and waned around them, but the dwarves in the mines, in contrast to many of their kin above ground, had no interest in the combat raging outside. However, the peace and quiet they enjoyed came to an end in the dying moments of the Second War of Hatred. The remnants of the dark army were corralled near the mines, driven like wolves before the oath-breaking light side, whose only guiding principle was to unite all good races and destroy the bad.

  Two regiments of dark dwarves, a sparse race of incredibly strong fanatics devoted to the dark side, made it into the mines. Unlike regular dwarves—with whom they mingled between wars by necessity and who generally made fine art—the dark dwarves were always ready for a fight. They often hired themselves out as mercenaries and only ever made weapons and armor. Darkness was their only allegiance, as they were said to have been created by Tekhosh, the God of Darkness, himself.

  Those pleasant fellows were the ones who were swept into the mines we now walked through. They quickly slaughtered most of the locals, took up positions, built defenses, and prepared to repulse the attack of the light forces.

  At the same time, some regular dwarves managed to escape the mines through secret passages and got word to the light side that their evil kinsmen were killing their way through the mountains. The dark dwarves needed to be destroyed, they said.

  The light side had no desire to get caught in the narrow spaces underground, where all the advantages would be on the side of the defenders. They discussed the problem and decided on a simple solution—a Fireworm born in the fires of light magic. It took an unbelievable amount of magical energy, but it was a plan as sure not to backfire as a Winchester rifle. The enormous worm wouldn’t leave the mines until it scorched to death everyone inside.

  To hasten the process and offer a more humane end to those in the mine (burning them alive was cruel and painful), the light mages also released a pair of Poison Flowers in the mines—another incantation used for mass destruction. It was like mustard gas, only it smelled better.

  As a result, everyone inside burned or was poisoned to death, including all of the dark dwarves, the remainder of their regular dwarf kin, and all the rest of the intelligent and unintelligent creatures living in the caves. The latter included ice devils, fellings, and yetis, not to mention the remains of a tribe of swimmers—strange creatures that live on the banks of underground lakes. They were a quiet, harmless, and peaceful group of fish-eaters that would never hurt a fly and lived for their two innocent pleasures: collecting jewelry and telling riddles.

  Nobody knows who cast the dying curse, though somebody did cast one. The souls of all those who met their end at the hands of the light races in the mines stayed there to roam the tunnels restlessly. While death certainly made them no tamer, most of those doomed to remain preferred only to scare those they came across. Just a few of the races became the blood-letters that gave the mines their fearsome reputation.

  Dwarves tried on multiple occasions to push their way back into the mines, putting together forces that marched resolutely underground, but only tens of the thousands who went in actually returned. Veterans of those attempts did their best to forget what happened inside. None of them would say a word about what they’d seen.

  The dwarves eventually gave up on the mines, figuring that the wealth they held came at too high a price. Centuries passed without the evil in the mines disappearing, and nobody paid much attention to them. Nothing ever came out, day or night. All you had to do was take one step out an entrance or exit, and you were free. The inside was another matter entirely…

  Things had only gotten worse by the time we arrived. New tunnels had been dug, goodness knows when and by whom. There were a multitude of traps; bloodthirsty ghosts were everywhere; and the local fauna had spread throughout the caves: ice devils, malicious and fanged creatures that posed no threat alone but were incredibly dangerous in packs. The walls and ceiling could also cave in at any moment. The worst part, however, was the fear that ate away at your soul and sapped the attention you needed to survive.

  That was why most travelers preferred to spend several days climbing through snow and ice in the pass rather than risk the short but ghastly paths through the abandoned mines.

  “And that’s how it is,” said Miurat, wrapping up his story.

  “Wow.” I shook my head respectfully. “Impressive.”

  “Did you think it would be anything else?” asked Miurat. “Okay, we’ll talk later. That’s the entrance to the First Hall up ahead.”

  Fitz raised a hand from the front of the column, letting us know in no uncertain terms that we needed to halt. Even in the dim light, I could see that he was right at the exit of the tunnel we’d been walking through.

  I couldn’t tell what was going on since there were too many people in between me and the hall to see in. It wasn’t good; that much was certain.

  Fitz waved us all closer. We crowded in and carefully peeked into the opening. I don’t know how it affected everyone else, but I felt sick to my stomach. If I hadn’t known that I would die and irretrievably lose everything I had with me before I ever made it out of the mines, I would have turned around and happily joined forces with the smugglers to get through the pass.

  It was a medium-sized room that featured half a dozen dwarves swinging tools at a vein of gold in the middle of the room. Their beards bristled, they chatted with each other, and every once in a while they bent over to pick something up and put it in purses on their belts. It would have been just a few of the little guys going about their daily life if it hadn’t been for one fact: all of them were ghosts. They were blue, semi-transparent, and absolutely repulsive. And even though nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary with their clothes, the dwarves themselves appeared to be in exactly the state in which they died. Discolored, badly burned faces were covered in singed beards, and burns ate away at their arms. “Repulsive” didn’t begin to describe them.

  “Listen,” said Fitz in a whisper. “We’ll walk single file along the right-hand wall until we get to the next passageway. See it over there on that side of the room?”

  We nodded.

  “Keep the noise down and watch your step. If we’re quiet, there’s a chance they won’t attack us or even notice we’re here. If you make noise, we’ll have to kill them. Forget that there aren’t that many of them; they’re nasty, and they’ll give us some nice debuffs.”

  “And they can call for help,” added Miurat.

  “I’m going first, then everyone behind me in order,” hissed Fitz. “Stay five strides behind the person in front of you. We’re safe once we get to that passage.”

  Fitz slipped ahead with a light tread. I was surprised to see how cat-like he could make his gigantic figure.

  Miurat poked Frag, who was staring at the undead.

  “Wake up, let’s go. Be quiet.”

  Finally, it was my turn. I took up position next to the wall, nervous about tripping over some small stone and therefore keeping a close eye on where I was stepping. The ghosts in the middle of the room were far too terrifying to look at as it was.

  Right then, Trina, who had almost gotten to the far passageway to the next tunnel, scraped her bow up against the wall. We heard the grinding sound and immediately following a hissed order from Fitz.

  “Halt! Freeze!”

  We froze all right. Against my will, I turned my eyes toward the middle of the room. The ghostly dwarves had forgotten their work and were looking in our direction.

  I swear, one of them glanced directly at me. Our eyes met for a second, and I found myself staring into the abyss.
Raging madness danced in his eyes.

  Time stood still as I waited for the six dwarves to hurl themselves at us. If any of us had moved, that’s probably what would have happened, but not a single muscle fiber twitched. One of the dwarves, apparently the one in charge, looked over at us one more time, shook his finger at us threateningly, and motioned for his friends to get back to work.

  “Let’s go,” we heard Fitz whisper.

  If we had been doing our best to follow orders and be quiet before then, I don’t think anyone’s feet actually touched the ground after that. We realized that we wouldn’t get off with just a finger-shaking the second time around.

  Fitz’s whispered voice was on its third minute laying into Trina when Miurat walked through the passageway. She stood there somewhere between living and dead, her eyes on the floor and her nose quivering.

  Finally, Fitz had his fill. “We’ll keep going in the same order. And this time listen to me!”

  We were ready to do anything he said so long as he got us out of there.

  I should note that the mines were nothing if not uniform. The wall and the tunnels that from time to time opened out of them, the mushrooms on the walls, the standard rooms we went through and, happily, didn’t find any more of the locals in—everything was identical. An hour later we were forced to draw our weapons for the first time when we came across two yetis in one of the tunnels. They were big and aggressive, though they made up for it with their stupidity. We may not have been able to take them out alone or in pairs, but the group together made short work of them.

  In another three hours, Fitz raised his hand. “Welcome to the first attraction: the Fifth Hall. Keep an eye out—it’s enormous, and there are plenty of surprises. Sometimes groups can get through without meeting anyone, other times, you have to fight for every inch. We’re going to see what kind of luck you all have. Stay close, but don’t get in each other’s way.”

  We carefully walked into the huge room, the other side of which was hidden somewhere far off in the darkness. I was expecting hordes to rush us like some kind of Moria. Nothing. It was just a room with piles of trash here and there. I saw a cocoon on one of them where some poor traveler had met his end and poked Engis.

  “Look, some stuff over there.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Can you imagine how much there is?”

  “Quite a bit,” said Miurat from behind us. He was turning his head so quickly from side to side that it looked like it was on a swivel. “And everything’s just waiting for you to pick it up.”

  Engis and I glanced at each other with the same thought in our minds—leave well enough alone; it wasn’t worth the risk.

  The room was gigantic. We walked past some kind of dark patches, and some had fires flashing out every once in a while. The sudden flames unexpectedly rushing out of the ground and walls were terrifying. The darkness along the walls wavered back and forth, looking just about ready to attack us.

  Here and there, were cocoons left by previous adventure-seekers. Even we could hear Frag cluck his tongue when we saw the ornate handle of a halberd poking up from between two slabs in the floor.

  “We’re almost there,” I heard Miurat say, and started to feel better. The narrow tunnel was much better than the vast room, where I felt bare and defenseless.

  “Hey!” Frag said just as Fritz walked through the passageway between the Fifth Hall and the next tunnel. “That’s a set hammer!”

  The dwarf’s figure leaped away from the passage, ignoring Fitz’s cry. “Stop, you fool!”

  I saw his hand close around the hammer’s handle and pull it away from the pile of trash it was lying on.

  Maybe he’ll get away with it.

  He didn’t. The handle evaporated as we watched, after which a whitish shroud appeared out of nowhere and enveloped Frag. He disappeared beneath it before anybody had time to react.

  “A-a-ah!” came his scream. “Help!”

  The only sound we heard after that was Fitz’s roar. “Stand where you are. Not a step!”

  He didn’t have to say anything. None of us was going anywhere since we could all see that the dwarf was a goner.

  The white shroud shuddered a few times as if breathing in and out, hung there for a minute, and floated down to the ground.

  The very same handle belonging to the hammer stared back at us, though this time there was a cocoon next to it. That was all that was left of Frag.

  “It’s his own fault,” said Miurat from behind us. “Greed killed the dwarf. Let’s keep going.”

  Everything thereafter was the same—tunnels, halls, passageways. We walked along through the monotony, realizing more and more how hopeless they were, how foreign we were, and how we were probably doomed to wander on until we found peace as part of the local scenery. There was a constant feeling of someone whispering in our ears.

  You won’t get out of here. Stop torturing yourself and let death come. It’s easier that way. Simpler.

  But we kept going. There were more tunnels shooting off in every direction, and the light coming from the mushrooms grew fainter.

  “Ah, there we are, almost done for today,” Miurat said to me a short while later. He picked up his pace and caught up to Fitz, telling him something when he got there. Fitz nodded and held up a hand. We followed his direction to the right.

  We turned again and again, soon seeing some kind of bright gleams far off. Five minutes later, we walked into a small room with a hillock in the middle. A fire burned at the top of it.

  “Time for a halt,” Miurat said without bothering to lower his voice. “There are five of these spots in the mines. They’re in all the big dungeons. Monsters and ghosts don’t come here, you get a break from the mental effects, and there aren’t any traps. We’ll spend the night here.”

  It was true; the weight of the past several hours fell off our shoulders, and it became easier to breathe.

  “Engis,” I said, turning to my partner. He didn’t answer. I spun around and saw that he was nowhere to be found.

  “Fitz,” I said quietly to our leader, sensing that something was wrong. “Engis is missing.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” asked Fitz.

  “When you waved. I followed you and didn’t look around for him as we went.”

  “How many turns did we make? More than five, wouldn’t you say?” Fitz asked Miurat.

  The latter nodded.

  “Then Engis is dead,” said Fitz calmly. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  I looked back at the darkness of the tunnel we’d just come from before lying down on my side.

  Chapter Four

  In which the hero sees the light at the end of the tunnel.

  Once we’d all clambered up onto the hill, Fitz addressed us.

  “All right, everyone, that’s all for today. Tomorrow, be here at 9 a.m. You won’t want to be late because we won’t wait for anyone. Otherwise, you can just spend the rest of your lives here.”

  That made sense to us all, given that the day’s events had put us all past kidding around. He was serious, and we all took him at his word.

  I got comfortable next to the fire, stared thoughtfully into the flames for a minute, and logged out of the game.

  Being above ground was unsettling. I hadn’t been in the mines for too long, but my brain was obviously having a hard time with the incredible contrast between my real-life apartment and the bluish gloom underground. It was something like how divers who come up too fast have their blood boil. In my case, it was my brain boiling.

  I threw a shot of tequila down the hatch to ease my nerves, not bothering with all the salt and lemon you see in the movies, and earned myself a reproachful glance from Vika. She had apparently gotten back from the office a while before I stepped out of the capsule.

  “What?” I asked disgruntledly.

  “Nothing,” she answered in a calm voice. “Just wondering why you went straight for the tequila. I made some borscht[2], and it would make the
tequila go down easier. Liquor is always better with something spicy. Plus, it’s exotic: tequila and borscht.”

  I felt bad. She’d been looking out for me, and I very nearly jumped down her throat for it. I’ll have to watch that.

  “Sure,” I said with a smile, “only Professor Preobrazhensky[3] doesn’t recommend soup with alcohol.”

  “Oh, forget all them,” said Vika with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, don’t worry; it doesn’t bother me. You should see Elmira sometimes when she logs out of the game. She recently captured some kind of fortress, and when she got out of the capsule, she was spitting mad. I woke up when I heard her. Then, the next morning, something got on her nerves, and she started yelling all over again. I don’t know what happened, but I just left her alone. She was crazy!”

  Interesting. Elmira. Vika’s sister. Captured a fortress recently. Could I know her?

  I quickly forgot about all that, however, and focused on the borscht. My mind had cleared, and I needed something hot and spicy with potatoes. Not to mention a couple…well, okay, three more shots. I felt better and went to sleep.

  Vika was still asleep when I got up the next morning to smoke two cigarettes. Yes, two. You think I’m itching to crawl back into those mines? The dreams I had that night were enough to make a grown man cry. Anyway, my two cigarettes smoked, I took a deep breath and lay back in the capsule. I’d come that far; might as well go the rest of the way.

  As it turned out, I was one of the first there. Fitz and Miurat were already standing by the fire arguing about something, though Fitz smiled and waved when he saw me.

  “Well done. The Thunderbirds are disciplined, I see—not like our crap.”

  His clan mates weren’t too bad, though, and everyone showed up over the next five minutes with the exception of Trina. She was nowhere to be found.

  “All right, time to go. Form up, column!” barked Fitz.

  “We’re definitely not going to wait?” Miurat asked him quietly.

  “No, I warned everyone that we wouldn’t be waiting. She can find her own way out.”