36: Geska

[Start from the beginning]
Dolrim’s axe was already in his hand, and he stepped forward, shifting into a battle stance as the red-haired woman shouted out in alarm… and then, a moment later, slumped to the floor as Almandar’s spell hit her. Anyone else could be around the corner, perhaps the demon himself, or at least the more competent of his remaining slaves.

“Let’s…” began Tarissa, and then her voice cut off as everything went black and the world seemed to spin around them.

“One of you cast a light spell!” grunted the dwarf when, after a few seconds, neither of the magicians had done the obvious.

There was no reply. The spinning had not disoriented him, and he had thought at first that the physically weaker magicians had been affected differently. But no, they were not here, and Dolrim was on his own. He wasn’t even sure he was in the same part of the complex. For all that his eyes could adjust easily to the dim light of a dwarven cave system, nobody could see in the complete absence of light.

Unless, perhaps, they were a demon. He froze, straining his ears to catch any hint of what was around him – although he was blind, Sashjant might not be. He could hear, somewhere in the distance, Tarissa’s voice, muffled by walls of the fake stone, its texture just a little too regular to be the real substance, but otherwise similar in its properties. He took a step in the direction of the paladin’s voice, but then stopped again as he heard a quiet footfall.

9: Reylana

[Start from the beginning]

The dwarves had been in Haredil long enough to have carved out their own quarter of the city. Despite having lived in the city all his life, it was an area that Almandar had rarely been to; unlike the elves, dwarves only rarely performed magic, and the close-knit and prudish nature of their culture gave him little other reason to visit. In fact, Lady Tarissa was probably more familiar with the district than he was, because of their quality armourers. And there was Dolrim, of course.

Looking around him at the blocky buildings with their small windows, he almost wondered why he had volunteered to come. But, if they were to obtain plans of the ruins beneath the city, his knowledge of Haredil’s ancient history might help, along with Dolrim’s natural feel for architecture and stonework. Nonetheless, he could not help but feel that the dwarves were a dour people, far from the fun-loving and carefree nature of the elves, or even, to an extent, the gnomes. It was the nature of their culture; they were master-craftsmen, spending all their time in dedicated work to improve their art, leaving no time for gaiety.

Lady Tarissa was leading the way as they walked through the dwarven streets, laid out in a square grid, as regular and monotonous as the buildings around them. As a paladin, she probably approved of the dwarves’ dedication, and even Almandar had to admit that they were an honourable and courageous people – Dolrim had saved his own life more than once. The previous night, Tarissa had invited round some friends of hers from the Temple of Pardror for a pleasant evening of food and conversation out in the courtyard. They had not discussed the apparent threat to the city, but the Temple were potential allies if ever they needed them. Calleslyn had brought a friend too, by the name of Messandra, but he knew enough about women to tell that she was not attracted to him.