Beltak now seemingly stabilised Tradden stood up, still a little shaky.

‘Zero…’ he mumbled to himself as he shambled over to the hole, trying to remember the exact spot the rogue had disappeared. Swaying ever so slightly due to blood loss and the exertions of the battle, Tradden peered down over the edge…

Khalin sighed and turned away from the stricken scribe. To his relief the feeling was starting to return to his own legs and with a grunt he pulled himself to his feet. The dwarf saw Tradden peering into the “mouth” and, using his hammer as a crutch, lumbered over to join the human.

‘He’s down there somewhere,’ Tradden sounded forlorn as Khalin stopped beside him.

‘I know, lad, and we’ll find him,’ the dwarf placed a hand on Tradden’s arm to steady himself as he too gazed down into the abyss, his keen dwarven eyes searching the gloom for some clue to the rogue’s whereabouts.

It was as Kireth moved that he realised how well he had actually come through that last encounter. A feat only achieved by the use of his own superior skills, he silently concluded.

He approached the hole with the other two luddites peering over the edge. The slightest of nudges later and the smiling mage watched the flailing dwarf’s body disappear into the darkness, cartwheeling frantically over itself…

‘Ah,’ he said audibly as, with regret, he pulled himself back to reality. The human and dwarf looked round in puzzlement, the mage having a genuine look of happiness on his face. Realizing he was actually grinning to himself, Kireth corrected the situation and adopted the more correct scowl.

‘Well, move then!’ he snapped, pushing past them to the lip of the hole.

‘Hmm, Tradden, lift that rock up would you?’ Tradden did as requested and the mage placed his hand upon it.

A moment later the rock began to glow, throwing out of good amount of light. ‘Well, I don’t want it, do I? Throw it in, throw it in.’

Tradden gave a shrug hefting the white stone with ease. He moved back, close to the edge of the abyss, and with a shout of ‘Look out below!’ he casually let the rock fall out of his hands.

Khalin knelt, such as it was — Kireth hid his sneer beneath his cowl. One could hardly tell the difference.

‘Ah, I need… I think I can bring young Beltak around…’ he panted, ‘…give me a few moments.’

Tradden, who had ripped part of his shirt off and was tying it around his head to form a make-shift headband to keep blood out of his eyes, nodded in agreement.

‘Sounds good. How is Z, do you think?’ he asked.

When no-one answered he grabbed a hold of one of the ropes and threw himself off the edge with a shout of ‘I’ll find out!’

Sure that the young oaf had thrown himself to his much-deserved death, Kireth peered over. Perhaps predictably the boy was not a broken mess at the base of the cavern but was descending far too quickly for someone who had just had ten shades of the proverbial knocked out of him.

‘You will feel it in the morning,’ the mage hissed, turning back to the dwarf and the cleric.

Content to let Tradden investigate Zero’s situation for now, Khalin studied Beltak’s prone form with concern. The scribe’s eyes flickered. ‘I think you’re ready for that shield now, Beltak. You’re a bona fide fighter now, m’lad!’

A faint smile returned to the scribe’s lips at Khalin’s words. The warlord turned and winked at Kireth, who scowled with disdain once more. As the dwarf looked around a shadow returned to his face, however, and he lowered his voice as he spoke earnestly to the mage.

‘We must rest, we’re in no shape to survive another fight.’ The look on Kireth’s face suggested Khalin needn’t state the obvious. ‘So the question is, are we safer up here or down there? Assuming we could get Beltak down in his current condition?’

Zero didn’t move from his current position, remaining seated and still. He nodded slowly in answer to Tradden’s question and then replied hoarsely with one of his own.

‘I take it everything nasty up there is dead?’

When Tradden nodded back the rogue let go of the sword, its blade clattering to the stone floor of the balcony. Zero closed his eyes.

‘Can I go to sleep now?’ he pleaded.

With no immediate reply forthcoming from Kireth the dwarf pulled himself to his feet once more. ‘We may need to get Beltak down there — so if you have any fancy magical solutions then now’s the time.’

With that he returned to the edge of the “mouth”. Peering over the side once more the dwarf hissed at Tradden and Zero to get their attention. ‘Is it safe down there?’ he enquired. ‘We need a secure place to rest, and soon.’

Tradden looked across at the mage curiously — there was something about what the mage had just said that didn’t seem to be right, but the young fighter was tired and the meaning of it did not come to him. Rather than pester the mage and be presented with a scowl and harsh word he slumped against the wall and set to quenching his thirst and chewing on the dried meats ready for his watch.

Though as a proud dwarf Khalin was no stranger to glittering caverns, the vista that had revealed itself across the roof of the chamber was nevertheless impressive. Under a night sky the stars of Moradin always brought warmth to the warlord’s heart. But this new constellation was a mystery. The dwarf was not exactly a slouch when it came to history and racked his brains for any reference to such a star group, but none would come.

Khalin turned once more to Kireth and Beltak, who the dwarf presumed were most likely to have insight on the matter: ‘Do you know of any record of a spiral star group in the histories? Or the symbolic significance of a spiral perhaps?’

As he spoke something tickled at the dwarf’s mind and he furrowed his brow as he recalled: ‘Hold on, Kireth, have you still got that wooden amulet we found back under that mansion on The Islands? Didn’t that have a swirl on it? Maybe they’re related?’

Tradden, always thinking, was not listening to Khalin’s monologue. Almost at the same time that the warlord turned to Kireth and asked about the amulet, the young fighter piped up.

‘Hmm, I know a spiral is a spiral is a helix, but that looks awfully like the exact shape of those necklaces we keep finding on bad guys.’

The use of the word “helix” was an unveiled dig at Kireth, who Tradden had come to realise didn’t think he knew much about anything. The word was tangibly thrown in the half elf’s direction. Tradden read books too. Tradden wasn’t finished with the mage there however.

‘Which reminds me — you said something last night which I didn’t quite click onto until I woke up. You said you didn’t know if Skauril lurked down this pit, or similar. That guy is dead. Right? Zero broke his dressing up mirror. Right?’

The mage turned from human to dwarf as the pair bombarded him with questions. He stared at Beltak, who was mute and transfixed upon the fake stars above, then at Zero, who he studied for some time. The rogue turned to face the mage, his face pale and white.

‘I have a very bad feeling about all this.’ Zero offered meekly.

‘I’m sure you do,’ replied Kireth softly before turning back to look at the scene above. ‘Here,‘ he said to Khalin without looking, holding out the small wooden amulet the dwarf had suggested for the warlord to take. ‘I think you’ll find a close match,’

The mage then glanced briefly at Tradden. ‘A slip of the tongue,‘ he said to the young fighter. ‘Curious,’ he added, more to himself.

Khalin accepted the small amulet. Sure enough the markings on it were strikingly similar to the glittering new lights above. ‘No coincidence I’m sure,’ the dwarf remarked glancing up once more. ‘Kireth,’ he continued slowly, ‘you’ve never struck me as one susceptible to “slips of the tongue”. Methinks you’re hiding something.’

A sharp look from the mage softened the warlord’s next words though. ‘Are you worried we’ll be startled by some revelation you’ve come to?’

There was a cold and silent stare from the mage, his eyes far away as though he were contemplating many things. After an uncomfortable silence, Zero filled the void.

‘Those stars are certainly intriguing, but shouldn’t we also discuss the carvings on the wall? I’m not an expert on these things, but to my layman’s eyes it appears that some big nasty being and his chums needed sorting out and a king and his allies all teamed up and took him down. Doesn’t look like a happy ending though. In fact, it doesn’t seem to have one at all. Hmm, I wonder if we’re part of the story now. Wouldn’t that be a thing!

He looked around from companion to companion, hoping to relieve the tension that had steadily been building up.

Tradden clasped his hands behind his back and started to pace slowly up and down in front of the nearest carving, the look on his face indicating a serious, contemplative series of thoughts were passing through his mind. He cleared his throat.

‘Yes, I had opportunity to consider these carvings last night, although the efforts of the day had taken their toll and it was not until I had another look this morning that it started to make sense.’ He gesticulated with one palm-up hand around the chamber. ‘It’s a story, we know that much, and seems to run around that way.’ He pointed circularly widdershins.

‘It’s not light bedtime reading — hard to take seven forty feet dark stone tablets to bed. By the way,’ this was to Khalin and was clearly a further attempt at showing off, ’… Obsidian or Jet?’

He let the question hang in the air for a moment and then continued. ’Odd that some parts seem to have been weathered, vandalised and also that the end is not finished. Kind of makes me wish I had brought one of my old chisels!’ No-one laughed.

Unperturbed, he continued. ‘I think I agree with Zero as to the general gist of it being a battle between some big, bad fella and maybe a group of other people. All our races seem to be included in the group — humans, dwarves, elves, halflings and even gnomes and goliaths. Not sure about these other elf-looking folk here, and here and I dare say Rhasgar might be interested to note that there are no Dragonborns kicking around.’

‘I always loved old legends and stories and whilst I might be getting carried away… I wonder if this second scene,’ he pointed to the second tableau, ‘is the battle that followed? The bad guy has some weird things on his side — here, the odd creatures which seem to, erm, drip, out of the background. However, the good guys seem to have some help also. The guy with the “halo” thing, well, you tell me Beltak but that looks like it could be Pelor? Khalin — isn’t the dwarf awfully Moradin like? No Corellon as far as I can see but the elven spear woman — Sehanine?’

Tradden was seriously on a roll now. ’And look, here, in the second and third sections — there isn’t the same focus but look, Bahamut, Erathis, Ioun, Kord… maybe Sehahine, hmm, wouldn’t make sense given what I said before, but you get the idea!’

‘We talk about gates to other dimensions, and look, on the third scene — couldn’t that be Halo Guy, erm, sorry, Beltak, Pelor, closing the doorway these dripping things are coming through? Hey!’ Tradden had a sudden thought. ‘Maybe that’s a scribe of Pelor there — with the book!’

Khalin looked like he was going to say something, but there was no stopping Tradden, history expert, now he was going. ‘By the time we get to this fourth panel it seems to be that Moradin and the others are imprisoning yonder bad guy and, erm, not being very nice to him actually, but I am sure they have a good reason for cutting out his eyes…’

‘Not sure that the fifth scene really adds — your bad fella is manacled to a huge rock, could be in a cave maybe, with birds feeding on the blood, do they do that? And then fading away. Weird. Not sure whether the discarded spear means anything?’

Tradden was nearly out of breath at this point.

‘As you can see, by part six things are starting to get a little rough — literally. It’s like someone didn’t have time to finish it and it doesn’t make a lot of sense — now there are lots of people, all without eyes, kind of like those orcs I guess, and what appears to be lots of humans dying. Looks like one sun eating another. What’s that all about?’

‘The seventh panel is just blank — intentional, or a story not yet finished?’

‘My take on it is that the big bad fella came, offered something to the people who refused and rose up against him and then imprisoned him. Problem is, it looks like they took their eye off the sword and now… well, he might be back in town.’

With that he stood back, arms folded. Proud of himself.

Khalin raised both eyebrows and shared a look with Kireth. ‘Thank you, Tradden, that was… impressive,’ he acknowledged. ‘I would agree with your interpretation.’ The warlord’s brow furrowed in thought once more: ‘While I don’t recall any mention of an evil giant in the accounts of the Age of Myths and the Dawn War, it is said that the gods did unite against their enemies, champions for the mortals of the world against ancient foes. It is told these enemies, “primordials” if you will, worked alone. Perhaps this is an interpretation of such a battle.’

‘To my mind it looks like Skauril, if he lives still,’ the dwarf punctuated the point with a glance at Kireth, ’or his followers, might be trying to recall one of these leviathans from whatever otherworldly place they were banished to?’ Khalin stroked his beard in a troubled fashion as he continued. ’Though the stories said they were destroyed not banished… and I do not recall tales of the form they took.’

With that he looked up once more at Kireth, hoping the mage would finally break his guarded silence and enlighten the group to his thoughts.

Kireth stifled a smile at the dwarf’s compliment to Tradden. ‘Impressive,’ he rolled over in his mind. ‘So we’re now using that word for anyone that can describe drawings?’ Well, the lad was trying and, at the very least, his ability to regurgitate what was already laid out before them meant that Kireth didn’t have to explain it to the other dullards.

‘Yes, very impressive, Tradden,’ he said with sincerity as he stood and walked before the carvings. ‘If you would allow me to add to what has already been cleverly deduced, my humble little ritual has helped me translate some of what is written. Each of the following corresponds, that means “attaches to”, each of the carvings in order… ahem:

The mage walked slowly from one panel to the next, pointing out the words as he spoke.

‘The first: “From the Elemental Eye, the ken of afar. Withheld by Celestials, a gift for believers.”’

‘Here, the second: “The curtain slips, the Harrow to enter upon the wheels. Might of the Celestials proved.”’

‘The third: “The Eye is tempered, the curtain closed. Dual edges for the wheels, His name is struck.”’

‘Our fourth: “Chastening within chains, the First Aegis. His sight cut out, exaction in darkness.”’

‘Now the fifth: “Stowed in the depths, below Eagle’s Nest. The black to feed. Tharizdun bound.”’

‘The strange sixth: “Light must be snuffed, perfection decayed, order dissolved, and minds fragmented.”’

‘And the seventh, well, there is no writing as there is no carving.’

‘And, while we are on the subject of translation, that script that runs around your clothing, Zero. You will have noticed the pattern is a repetition, well maybe you haven’t but it is. Anyway, the grammar of it is extremely poorly structured which makes it difficult to decipher precisely but as best I can tell it reads: “The Eagle takes flight. Trim his wings.”‘

He paused a few moments to let this information sink in. Realising that might take some time he continued.

‘Ok,’ he said, considering the slightly blank looks he was getting, ‘let’s not get too caught up with the words right now, we can come back to that in a moment. Let us consider the carvings and writings themselves rather than just their meaning. You can see it has been rubbed and polished, almost to the point of smoothness. Why? By whom? Why did they continually do this?’

He paused for a moment… no… nothing? ‘I have no doubt that when you carefully examined the carvings for your analysis,’ he nodded at Tradden, ‘you noted that certain elements of the depictions seem to emit their own light, a glow if you will. See here on the first tableau, the giant? And here again on the second, the giant’s maul? And so it continues throughout. Very interesting, no? Just for emphasis? Maybe… maybe not. Could it be that these are the parts we too should rub? Should we darken the area to see them clearly?’ He let those questions hang for a moment also.

‘And the penultimate panel, that means last but one, clearly of inferior craft even to my unskilled eyes. Why would this be? Why take such care, such pride over the others only to make such a hash of this. I would think this might intrigue you, Khalin? I would not over look the importance of that.’

The mage sat himself down. ‘You “see”, sometimes you have to actually look at what is before you, instead of just reciting what is before you.’

Zero hitched up the hem of his shirt and examined the stitching. As Kireth had mentioned, there was undoubtedly a similarity to the script beneath the carvings.

‘What the…?’ Zero gasped. ‘What was that little bugger Lowfield up to? I certainly didn’t ask him to incorporate some cryptic, esoteric design.’

‘Who was this Lowfield?’ enquired the mage, eyes narrowing. ‘Did you know him well? Man, elf, halfling? Did he make or give you anything else?’

‘Well,’ Zero replied, taking a telling breath, ‘I hadn’t heard of him until Skillet, the innkeeper, told me he could make me some decent clothes. As he was measuring me, he told me he came over from Deepingwald with his family when they were asking for folks to come to Blackengorge and settle. Interesting thing is, do you remember that Khalin thought there was a traitor in Blackengorge? It had totally slipped my mind, but Tradden reminded me we had seen the words “Low” and “Field” written on the cell wall where we found Celestia. So, suspecting Lowfield might be the traitor, we searched his house. We didn’t find anything incriminating though.

‘That’s all I know about him,’ the rogue concluded.

Khalin harrumphed. ‘Thank you, Kireth, for that… recital,’ the dwarf emphasised the last word, ‘and your words, Zero. Now if we can actually decipher some real meaning we’ll surely be onto something methinks,’ he finished with a raise of his eyebrow.

The jibe returned to the mage, the warlord’s demeanour resumed its serious gait once more as he moved towards Zero. ‘So, an eagle it says?’

He then turned to the unfinished final panel Kireth had indicated, casting a craftsman’s eye across it.

‘Lowfield!’ exclaimed Tradden, hopping inelegantly from one foot to another whilst pointing at Zero. ‘I knew it! I told you that old geezer was up to no good! Ha!’

Pleased with himself Tradden stood back against a section of carving, casually crossing his arms. ‘The guy probably is Skauril — he had some neat threads, as I recall. I say “had” — what’s the deal, Kireth, is he dead or not? I know you know!’

‘I wholeheartedly agree,’ said Zero, pulling up his collar. ‘We aren’t going to find any more answers in this grim gallery.’

Thoughts of Skauril’s demise being greatly exaggerated out to one side for now, the warlord hustled the others into action.

‘Three exits,’ Khalin pondered. ‘Zero, which one did the orcs come from, or were they already there to welcome you when you descended? If there’s nothing else to distinguish them let’s try the first one,’ he finished, indicating the nearest entrance with his hammer.

Zero nodded to the door towards the west. ‘That one probably, they were all over at that side, I think.’ He slowly moved over to the double doors, quickly noting the lack of hinges suggesting they would swing away from him, before pausing just before them.

Without touching the surface he cocked his head to one side, getting as close as he could and listening out for any sounds, the stone cold near his ear.

Content that he had been met with stony silence he began to turn his attention to the doors themselves, carefully scrutinising the door frame and the dark handles.

Zero smiled back at Khalin. ‘I think they’re safe,’ he said. ‘After you,’ he added though.

‘Well, gentlemen,’ said the thief. ‘Shall we?’ And with that, he started to creep down the corridor.

He started slowly, watching the floor almost as much as the doors to the side.

Whilst Tradden clumsily — in Zero’s opinion — searched the bedchamber the rogue slowly opened the door on the northern wall, keeping half an eye further down the corridor.

With growing confidence Zero moved back across to the other side of the corridor. Nothing had jumped out at him yet and with the noise Tradden had been making surely if there were other creatures here they would already have attacked.

Still, he’d always been sensible enough to be cautious. No sense in blindly walking into the father of a maiden in the middle of the night when you’re leaving her chamber to go to her sister’s. He listened quietly at the next door, also slightly ajar, with all of his usual care.

With a node back to Khalin he moved onto the next door, following his well-worn routing of pausing, listening, pushing back the door and letting his eyes adjust before moving inwards and checking.

The last door was wide open, revealing another small bedchamber within. Khalin’s and Tradden’s torches gave the room plenty of light and it was not difficult to peer within.

With care he backed out of the room and turned his attention to the larger chamber at the end of the corridor. He was quite close now and had a much better view of its dimensions.

Tradden was right behind Zero. Although not too close — he had learned not to cramp the rogue’s style by being right on his coat tails. Instead the fighter slowly followed at a distance, searching rooms more thoroughly, safe in the knowledge that Zero would have picked up on anything of special note. Tradden was happy to pick up the slack by getting down and dirty with anything his friend had passed over. That said, it seemed that these rooms might have more “down and dirty” than most.

The first room didn’t have much to write home about — the rickety chair was, well, a chair. Tradden had often dreamed of exploring foreign lands and finding exotic items of amazing power. The truth, now he had found a chance to explore a foreign land, was a whole lot of pain and hard work and not much in the way of exciting items. He wasn’t complaining — he did after all have a superb frosty longsword strapped to his back — but it would have been nice to find a “chair of battlefield domination” or similar. As it was — it was a chair. Not even that, if someone tried to sit on it they would likely break it.

The pack was old leather, well worn, smelled musty and certainly had been used an awful lot. In fact his guess was it had been at sometime hauled through a muddy river. The contents of the pack were equally uninspiring. He found some ragged, plain woollen clothes, all black, grey green and probably fitting an orc assuming they ever changed out of their armour. There was enough for a full outfit — jerkins, britches, and a thick cloak. In addition there was, what was to all intents and purposes, an adventurer’s pack — some oily candles, a poor quality flint and steel, around twenty feet of hemp rope, some odd oversized shoes, some bits of whetstones and cloths for cleaning weapons and armour, and a cloth pouch with around two dozen copper coins. He took the coins and the shoes — the former for obvious reasons, the latter because they piqued Tradden’s interest — and slipped them neatly in his own pack.

The bedroll was nothing special. It smelled a bit, was obviously well used and not perhaps not just here — it smelled equally of the great outdoors and orc.

The second room was much like the first, a rough bedroll with a pack slung against the far wall. The pack was similar in contents to the first, although there were a couple of rusting but sharp knives strapped to the side of the pack, some stout wooden handles that looked like they might be spare axe handles and a mixture of flints, steels, and copper wire. Again there was a pouch, this time holding slightly more bounty; two silver and half a dozen coppers.

‘This place must have been a base for a scout or something!’ the human hissed at Khalin as he moved out of the second room and continued along Zero’s path.

Moving on to the next area Tradden homed in on the bedroll and blankets — was this a clue?

Kneeling down and prodding the various bits of material with his shortsword Tradden gave a running commentary, to no-one in particular.

‘Hmm, the blood seems human to me.’ Sadly the fighter had seen enough of his own and others to be reasonably confident about this. ‘Given the placing of the various bloodstains on the roll the injuries look to be on the chest or upper back. The bandages look to be different ages — some are clearly older. See the crusted and long dried blood which has darkened with age on some whilst the others are fresher with more crimson stains? Whatever the injuries are they don’t look to be life threatening.’

He stood up and surveyed the room more widely. ‘Clean. This room is pretty clean without much here.’ He sniffed the air. ‘No smell of orcs in here either. Hmm.’

There wasn’t much more to say, so Tradden didn’t say anything (which was unusual). Moving onto the next room revealed a chamber much like the first two he had searched. It was simply an unremarkable chamber smelling of orc and containing a bedroll, chair and desk. The pack under the desk was slightly interesting in that it had clearly been used to carry something, or many things, that were heavy — there were tell-tale iron struts to keep the pack from splitting with the weight, reinforcing it. It was empty now however.

With that, Tradden moved up towards Zero in the room beyond.

Khalin gave Tradden a nod of thanks as the human followed them into the common room, before putting a finger to his lips. He then pointed quickly to the door that was ajar, indicating for Zero to take a quick glance through the gap.

With the coast apparently clear the dwarf studied the doors on the western wall once more. ‘Storerooms, perhaps?’ he wondered. ‘Let’s check them next — one at a time,’ came the whisper.

Despite his speculation his hand involuntarily reached for the handle of the craghammer at his side as Zero moved to peer through the slightly open door.

Zero inched forwards slowly at an angle towards the door, trying to peer inside from as far away as he could get. The door was open perhaps a foot, inwards, and gave him a reasonable view. The swim of dim light from within let him know the room was lit, but it was only as he got closer he could tell it was from a few oil lamps hung around the room in a scattered pattern, hung to the stone of the roof on rusting hooks.

There was no movement, nor any large objects for anyone to hide behind, although the rogue was careful about what might be lurking behind the door itself. With a quick sidestep he rounded the frame and slipped inside. To his relief the room was devoid of threat.

The room was as wide as the common room, but a little longer. Lined along each walls were rows of bedrolls, most filthy and worn, most topped with a pack or sack. The room smelt of sweat and worse. With a wrinkled nose the rogue backed out.

‘Seems like some sort of dormitory,’ he whispered loudly back at Khalin. ‘No sign of any other way out than the door.’

The dwarf nodded, not taking his hand off the shaft of Aecris ‘That one next, I think,’ he replied, motioning towards the southernmost of the three western doors. ‘One by one.’

Zero stalked slowly across to the door studying its unremarkable frame carved into the stone of the wall. The door itself was like the others, smooth and cold with a dark handle, perhaps of some other stone. Edging up the stone he listened carefully, placing his hand upon the surface to see if he could feel any vibrations from within.

He nodded to himself, content that there was nothing growling on the other side, before moving his hands swiftly over the handle and frame, squinting at the seams and blowing small puffs of his breath into the cracks at regular intervals.

The rogue looked happy enough that he couldn’t find anything untoward about the door and grabbed the handle. ‘Ready?’ he asked the group as he pushed on the door.

The door didn’ budge and Zero nearly fell into it. With a scowl he tried again with the same luck. Frustration showing on his face he reached into one of the side pockets of his pack and pulled out a pair of small tools and knelt down to peer and prod into the crack between handle and frame.

‘False door, eh?’ smirked Tradden cheekily as he brushed past Zero. He had seen the rogue work on many a door and whilst he wouldn’t say it out loud so as not to embarrass him, Tradden knew when Zero had right royally messed it up. ‘We’ll see about that!’ he finished, standing a pace from the door and planting one boot sole heavily against the centre of the stone so as to kick it open.

There was a long, low groaning sound…

…as Tradden fell slowly backwards, as if pivoting on the heel of his standing foot. The door, if it was a door, was wholly unmoved. It simply sat there, smug in the knowledge it had outsmarted the young human.

‘That door… is false…’ came a croaky whisper from the floor.

‘Hmm,’ was all Zero had to say, one eyebrow firmly raised as he held out his hand to Tradden, who gingerly took it and hauled himself up.

‘Stop your messing!’ chided Khalin, before clearing his throat. ‘The centre door, Zero, please.’

Ignoring the antics of the others, Kireth slowly walked towards the stubborn portal, his eyes never moving from its handle.

Zero paused in front of the centre door, waiting upon the mage, but Kireth ushered him onwards with a flourish of one arm. ‘Continue, continue,’ he said without looking at the rogue.

Zero shrugged, glad to be no longer the centre of embarrassed attention, and turned back to the stone before him. This one would not defeat him, he was sure of that.

With the same care as the previous door the rogue began to thoroughly scan the seams and the handle. He paused at the intricate keyhole on the handle itself — a feature that had defeated him on the previous door — noting that he did not recall such a thing on the doors in the corridor.

This time the rogue had a broad smile upon his face as he stood back from the door and with a flourish grabbed hold of the handle. ‘At your service,’ he said with a bow and pushed open the door.

Zero could hardly help himself. The broad smile grew into a larger grin and he rubbed his hands together to get them ready for his work. He settled down on his knees before the chest stroking his short goatee, almost in mockery of Khalin, before pulling out a separate pair of lockpicks.

‘Now then, my beauty,’ he whispered to the wooden coffer, checking it thoroughly to see if it was safe.

Shuffling a little on his knees he continued to frown at the chest. ‘A bit more light, please,’ he asked and Khalin moved into the room, holding his torch high.

Zero began to hum his tune and slipped one of the picks around the side of the lock.

Tradden had muttered to himself, something about a stupid door, whilst ambling off to lick his wounds and trying to be useful — having a search of what he called the common room and the dormitory.

Neither room held any surprises.

The common room was as plain as he could see — tables, an oven and a collection of small barrels, sacks, and crates containing provisions such as flour, snowmelt water, cheap wine, firewood, and lamp oil. The supplies being in good nick Tradden took a few bits to replace his general supply.

The dormitory was similarly boring — the various sacks and bags contained a bit of loose change, including a few silver. Tradden took them, more out of habit than anything else.

Tradden’s luck was consistent if nothing else. Some minor treasure but no weapons of ultimate smiting. Not even a Footstool of Doom.

It was at that point that he heard the muffled yells of Zero and Khalin, so swords drawn he ran back to investigate.

As Tradden burst into the smaller room he was greeted with the sight of carnage — blood literally everywhere. No enemies, oddly.

‘Whoa…’ was all he could manage.

Beltak had already rushed in and was helping a kneeling Zero, the rogue gagging and retching. Khalin was bent over holding his mouth, so Tradden sheathed his swords on his back and went to help the dwarf. Like Zero he was soaked with blood — in fact blood was everywhere in the room except near the now opened chest, with sprays of it over the south wall of the cell with macabre shadows of Khalin and Zero clear of blood. It would have been funny were his friends not in such shock and pain.

In truth Tradden and Beltak did little other than stand over Khalin and Zero whilst they composed themselves.

As they both straightened up a half-elven voice floated in from the room outside. ‘What is in the chest that required such powerful magic protection?’ it mused.

Odd, Tradden thought, the mage hadn’t even poked his head around the door frame to see what had happened.

Kireth scowled at the noise emanating from the adjacent room. He had already started his own style of work on the blocked door before him and the interruption set him back. His curiosity had been raised by the chest, but he had work to do here.

The door intrigued him and he would not be beaten by it. Mumbling under his breath he stretched out his palm towards the handle, his hand trembling and whitening with the strain. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he concentrated on his words.

Leaving Khalin, Zero and Beltak to the room now eerily covered in blood, Tradden went to see what Kireth was doing. Seeing the door was now ajar he noted an air of smugness around the mage even though he didn’t betray any emotion. The fighter shrugged — results were results and you couldn’t argue with that.

Once again unsheathing his swords Tradden nudged the door inwards a bit with one boot. Seeing it was dark inside Tradden nodded towards the crack although Kireth was already ahead of him.

‘Shirak!’ was the whisper from behind Tradden and the top of Kireth’s staff was a comforting glow emanating from above and slightly behind Tradden’s head.

Edging carefully forward the combination of light from the staff and the oil lamps in the common room behind them revealed what was a small room, similar to the others they had opened, perhaps ten feet square.

The door suddenly stopped opening inwards without warning, making Tradden jump until he realised it had stopped up against a bed nestled in the corner. The room was really quite dry — Tradden’s mouth could attest to that. It made sense considering there was an oven at this corner of the common room.

The room was still — no occupants. Good. As with some of the other rooms there was a desk and chair, these both in good condition, in situ and both up against the western wall. Tradden could just make out a large vial of ink, probably half full, on the top of the desk next to a few discarded pens. As his eyes improved to the semi-darkness, and he and Kireth moved forward inch by inch, he could also make out ink stains across the desk here and there.

The bed was furnished, quite elegantly compared to the bare bedrolls in nearby rooms, but had the look of not having been used in some time. That matched the overall feel of the room — not really used much, and not for some time.

Tradden was just about to chalk the room down as being unremarkable when he noticed for the first time that each of the four walls had a mirror at their centre. Each mirror was a slightly different shape and size, but they all faced inwards towards the centre of the room.

The mirror on the northern wall (well, it was to his right as he walked in) was small and round and the surface appeared to be dull and grey. The one on the western wall was tall and straight and dark. The one on the southern wall, over the bed, had a large crack across it, and the one on the eastern wall, when not obscured by the door, looked bright and green.

It was, in short, a bit like Tradden’s rooms back in Deepingwald, but substantially more creepy. In fact, it was very creepy. Strange mirrors? Parchments? Writing and desks? That meant only one thing.

‘Erm… one for you I think, Kireth…’

Khalin had barely noticed Tradden disappear to investigate Kireth’s efforts. The dwarf was hardly a stranger to blood — it was pretty much a prerequisite of battle — but the shock of the spray from the trap, covering his face, inside his mouth and nose, clogging his eyes, was almost too much to stomach. Nevertheless the gag reflex subsided and he wiped the red goo from his eyes. His first concern, once he’d seen Zero was recovering also, was for any lingering maleffect.

‘Nice work,’ he spluttered to the rogue, spitting blood from his mouth. ‘Are you familiar with this sort of trap?’ The dwarf shuddered as he considered the potential implications. ‘Could this stuff be poisonous or infected?’ he asked of Beltak as he tried to brush the foul stuff off his armour.

Zero appeared to have managed to regain some level of composure although his face shone a pale white against the black and now red of his garb. From somewhere he had produced a lace handkerchief which he had used to clean his face and hands and disappointedly discarded into a corner of the room, soggy and crimson with the blood.

He turned back to the chest, eager to inspect the contents that had caused so much trouble to reveal.

‘What?’ exclaimed Khalin, almost unsure he’d heard the rogue right. He reached out to take the mask and slowly turned it round in his hands with trepidation. The dark obsidian of the mask felt smooth to his touch.

‘What in Moradin’s name…’

The warlord’s voice was quiet, almost reverent as he regarded the visage staring back at him. The likeness was striking — but Khalin was pretty sure it wasn’t him. Nevertheless, the face was familiar and the dwarf’s eyes took on a faraway look.

‘Find the truth,’ he whispered. ‘Hunt the shadowed chain.’

Khalin carefully wrapped the mask back up in the velvet from the chest and started stowing it safely in his pack. Whether it was simply a fortuitously found family heirloom or something of much greater significance the warlord had the feeling he should keep hold of it. With the worst of the blood wiped clean the dwarf shrugged back into action.

‘Come on, Zero, there’s two more doors to try,’ he said in an encouraging tone, before adding, ‘we should be cautious.’

The rogue scowled slightly in response to the gentle rebuke before following the dwarf to the last of the three doors opposite the entrance to to the room. Khalin stepped to one side to allow Zero forward to begin his examination.

Zero continued to scowl at the warlord as he rose and padded softly out of the door. He looked as though he were about to say something, but held his peace before approaching the northernmost of the three eastern doors.

With his ear to the door, more out of habit than necessity, he listened for any sounds within before declaring the room empty with a knock at the door.

‘Another sleeping cell I would presume, judging by the echo,’ he smiled back at Khalin. The rogue kept his caution, though, slipping out one of his tools and checking the door thoroughly.

Confident the door was safe and that it was not locked, he swung it open.

Zero looked back at Khalin in the sleeping cell with a frown upon his face.

‘Ever get the feeling you were completely out of your depth?’ he asked the dwarf.

Khalin merely smiled. ‘The game’s afoot, my dear Zero!’

The dwarf rubbed his beard once more as he ambled into the common room towards Beltak. ‘Well, the exploits of this Skauril extend further than we imagined,’ he frowned, realising the prospect of a large tankard of frothing ale beside a warm fire anytime soon was apparently receding.

‘Kireth,’ he boomed towards the southwestern chamber, ‘you never told us your thoughts. Is Skauril still alive?’

‘This “seer”,’ the warlord turned to Beltak, ‘any more mention of him? Perhaps the chest was his, and chances are he’s still at large. If we can capture him maybe we can get some answers.’

Whilst Khalin and Zero were investigated the other room and Beltak had been examining the scrolls Kireth had moved slowly into the room where Tradden stood. Ignoring the young fighter he kept away from the centre, moving slowly towards the mirror on the western wall opposite the door, ensuring he did not get caught fully in its reflection.

Staring intently at the dark, straight surface he then shifted to the side to stand right before it and examine his reflection. The hooded mage, face lost in the shadows of his hood with only his bright eyes peering back out, stared back at him silently, his shadows almost being drawn into the dark surface.

Kireth’s white hands clutched tightly onto his staff as he turned his attention to the mirror on the northern wall, over the desk. This one was smaller, round, and a curious dull grey. The reflection was dim and faint as though the room itself was clouded in fog.

Whether it was a trick of the light or the bumbling oaf Tradden moved behind him into the reflection he could not tell, but the mage suddenly felt nauseous as the fog within the mirror appeared to shift for an instant.

Kireth stopped, drawing his hood down and revealing a confused face. He threw up an arm to stop Tradden in his tracks before the youth could even move and then stepped back himself slowly.

He began to turn to look at the other mirrors before realising he had stepped involuntarily right into the centre of the room and the mirrors’ focus. He looked down and saw the smoothed stone beneath his feet where someone else may have stood.

With a whisper he uttered, ‘Open the eyes…’ Then followed it up more strongly with, ‘Skauril!’

Kireth appeared to regain some of his composure but still looked a little pale. He turned to Tradden.

‘I’m not sure if dead or alive are the right way to consider Skauril any more, but there is something “not right” going on here… more not right than usual.’

He turned back to the mirrors and their reflections of him. ‘Open the eyes,’ he whispered once more.

Tradden looked at Kireth, and then at the mirrors. Then at Kireth. Mirrors. Kireth. In the end the fighter shrugged his shoulders and backed out of the room. ‘All yours, K. Let me know if any orcs jump out from under the bed.’

Striding out and over to Beltak, Tradden swiftly but firmly nipped the parchment from the scribe’s grasp, studied it intently, but clearly far too fast to actually read it, and handed it back to the servant of Pelor before he had even chance to stutter an objection.

‘“Khase”, eh? “Kloros…plax”, eh? It all starts to makes sense. Oh, no, wait a minute — it doesn’t! What in Moradin’s name is going on? This just keeps getting bigger and bigger! Come on, let’s get cracking, otherwise we will be here all day!’

Clearly miffed, the fighter strutted across the common room. Beltak heard the distinct sound of the scraping of a stone door being flung open.

Taking a moment to light a torch from his pack Tradden set about seeing if there was anything of use, or interesting, in the room — it never hurt to try…

Tutting at the noise Tradden was causing and the inelegant solutions the young fighter continued to muster, Zero shambled across to the crate. The blades looked as though they had seen their own fair use of battle, the edges nicked and dulled with use. The rest of the crate was disappointingly empty.

The oiled pack in the room was just as disappointing to the rogue. It appeared to only contain a couple of furs and blankets and the trappings needed for a long march and rest outdoors. Nothing of value.

With a sigh he stood up, turned and padded out of the room towards Beltak.

Khalin, having returned to the doorway back into the common room, had been watching Kireth intently. The mage’s reactions brought a palpable sense of unease to the dwarf’s gut. He walked slowly over the join the wizard.

‘Kireth,’ the warlord spoke softly, as if not wanting to wake someone from sleep, ‘what’s going on here?’ He glanced around at the mirrors that had spooked his comrade. ‘Are we being watched?’

Kireth did not immediately respond, and the dwarf looked around to the others once more before coming to a decision. This time speaking with a clear, sonorous voice, the warlord announced: ‘We must finish searching this place. If we can confirm it’s secure then we may have done all we can for now. If this “seer” is still around perhaps we’ll get some answers. If not, then we may have done all we can, and we should meet up with the Talons at the northern edge of the mountains. There were two more doorways back beneath the mouth. Come on.’

With that the dwarf made for the passage back to the circular walkway beneath the mouth. The others swiftly followed.

As the group reemerged in the large cavern, flakes of snow continued to descend before them. Shrugging off the cold Khalin pointed towards the other doorways, one directly opposite them, one on the southern edge.

‘The longer we spend here the greater the chance reinforcements might arrive. We need to determine if there is anything, or anyone, left here. I propose we split up. Zero, if you check the nearest doorway, myself and Kireth will investigate to the south.’

The wizard couldn’t have looked less thrilled at the prospect, but the dwarf continued regardless.

‘Then you, Tradden and Beltak continue on to the east door, and check beyond.’

Zero shrugged silently, glad to be on the move again, although not relishing the thought of splitting up. He padded softly around the balcony — avoiding the bloodstains from the corpses of the orcs that he had slain — and arrived at the large stone doors at the southern edge of the dome.

Looking back quickly at the others he pressed he ear close to the nearest door.

With no obvious sounds from beyond the door Zero began his usual pattern of searching the door for any suprises. First he ran his hands around the gaps and prodded here and there with one of his tools.

Tradden playfully pushed the rogue away from the southern doors towards the eastern side. ‘Come on,’ he offered, ‘Let’s see what’s behind the other one whilst they play with this one.

Zero sighed but complied with his friend, following his usual routine at the eastern doors.

Tradden didn’t waste any more time than absolutely necessary, pushing the door with one hand whilst gripping the hilt of his longsword with the other as soon as Zero gave the all clear.

‘Let’s proceed… carefully,’ promoted Khalin as the door to the south softly scraped open. The warlord and mage advanced down a gloomy passage that resembled the others they’d traversed. The pair had barely gone half a dozen paces before the passage turned abruptly to their left.

Peering cautiously round the corner the pair saw the coast was clear and proceeded on. Some twenty feet beyond they came to a spiral staircase, the stone steps bending down.

‘It looks like it goes down to the base of the chamber,’ mused Khalin, and he carefully headed down.

The steps did not go too far before they ended in another corridor, dark giving way to the warlord’s torch to reveal a long passageway with a turn to the right.

Khalin headed back up the stairs to Kireth. ‘Let’s report back to the others before we venture down there. No use in running into a pack of enemies whilst we are split.‘

With that the pair headed back through the doors and around the balcony to join the others.

Slowly but surely Tradden inched forwards until he had a good view of the room. He had been in this “business” long enough now to know when to be careful and when not to be. An ominous looking statue in a room? Odd looking chains? Such things were not good news stories for the front page of the Daily Tradden Tribune.

Whilst he heard the footsteps of his various comrades approaching behind him, the fighter took a second to have a good look at the key parts of the room.

Turning to the chains running along the walls the young fighter brought his vast experience to bear.

Tradden cleared his throat nervously as a sudden memory came back to the forefront of his mind which he then spoke out loud.

‘Hey, remember the ruined keep and that big statue that came to life. That sword really, really hurt. This one has three…’

Zero gingerly reached out to grab the chain and gave it a quick shake before whipping his hand back. His eyeballs flitted about the room nervously.

Khalin cleared his throat as he barged to the front.

‘Right. No one ever found gold without digging a mine. Form up behind me — stay close and keep your eyes open, especially you two,’ the dwarf motioned towards Zero and Kireth with Aecris.

Zero was mildly offended at having a warhammer thrust in his general direction but decided to not let it show.

‘You know what you are looking for, experts that you are! Tradden, cover the rear and Beltak… keep your connection to Pelor strong and clear — I have a bad feeling about this…’

With that the group slowly filed across the chamber, the warlord leading them in a wide path around the southern side of the statue.

Khalin led them out slowly keeping his eyes focussed on the floor in front of him and across the chamber to the door at the far eastern side. Each step he took with care, trying to ignore the statue and the curved blade it thrust out to the left of him. Warily he made sure that the floor before him was sound and did not give beneath his feet.

Zero followed the warlord checking all he could in the glow of Khalin’s torch, switching between the stones beneath his feet to the chains and to the statue looming on his left.

Kireth and Beltak closely followed the rogue, the mage copying Zero’s footsteps and movements all the while muttering syllables of spells.

The young fighter brought up the rear, pacing backwards and keeping his eye on the doors back to the dome, both swords out with a torch grasped with his shortsword. The torch swung left and right as he tried to keep a firm grip, sending flickering shadows back through to the dome.

‘Wait!’ called Zero, stopping in his tracks. Kireth and Beltak nearly bowled him over, and Tradden stepped backwards into the scribe, but they all managed to keep their feet.

Tradden swung around. ‘What is it?’ he asked before Kireth had the chance to admonish the rogue.

Zero paused for a moment and turned to face the wall and the chain. He stood at the angle of the hexagon, just past the first of the statue’s blades and looked down at the iron ring set into the wall that held the chain.

‘There’s something odd here…’ he began.

‘You don’t say…’ Tradden interrupted.

Zero scowled and cast the young fighter a withering glance that caught Tradden aback, silencing him for now. ‘Odd in the wall. Don’t you see it?’ he asked of Khalin. The dwarf took a long look and nodded back to the rogue. ‘A door?’ the warlord suggested.

‘Exactly,’ agreed Zero.

‘How does it open?’ spoke up Beltak for the first time in a while. ‘I see no handle.’

Zero looked carefully at the stonework, the iron ring, and the chain stretching off towards both doors. The eyes of the chain’s balls stared up at him in mockery.

‘A secret door,’ he mused to himself, ‘but what secrets behind?’

After a moment’s pause he turned to Khalin. ‘It looks obvious to me.’

Khalin looked back at him with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

‘I guess you pull the chain out. An eyeball gets stuck in the iron ring. Pull the chain some more and it opens.’

Tradden continued his vigil, constantly scanning the room.

‘Well? Does it open?’

Khalin tilted his head as he looked at the macabre chain, brow furrowed in thought. The dwarf looked over his shoulder to the opposite side of the room. ‘Hmm, two chains. Two doors?’ He cocked his head to try peer past the statue to the opposite corner but the stone behemoth impeded some of his view.

Weighing the chain in his hand, the warlord appeared to have reached a decision. ‘May fortune favour the brave,’ he murmured, before reaching out and grasping the chain to give it a firm pull.

There was an odd, strangled sound from Tradden’s direction as he turned to face the warlord. It was joined by a somewhat shocked, manic look to the fighter’s eyes.

‘That’s it?’ he blurted out, scrambling to get close to the dwarf. ‘That’s your plan?’ Tradden’s eyes darted between the dwarf and the large, imposing, dark statue with three swords as the chain began to grate against the iron rings along the walls.

‘Look, I’ll go with you if this is years and years of honed dwarf knowledge coming to the fore, but it seems a bit, well, it’s…’

‘It’s the kind of thing Tradden would do…’ offered Zero, not unkindly.

Tradden paused before continuing. ‘Yeah! That’s the kind of thing “I” would do!’

The fighter again studied the large statue, aware that if the thing did come to life, as seemed to be the norm for evil-looking statues, he would be the one taking the beating first. ‘I mean, didn’t you at least want to’ I don’t know, tie some rope to it and pull the whole thing from out there…?!’ He gestured to the corridor they had entered through.

It seemed to be too late though as the “eyeball” slotted itself into the hoop with a dull clang, its pupil staring at an angle at Zero. The chain grew taut and Khalin gave it a final heave.