Chapter 4 Part 24

Keeneye led his comrades for another two hours before he saw evidence that they were going in the wrong direction. Suddenly, the passage was less clean than before. Bits of old rotten cloth and layers of undisturbed dust appeared on the floor with bits of debris littering the way.

The elven archer quickly called a halt to the march and instructed his followers to aid him in locating an opening which lacked the tell-tale signs of still air. The task was easily described, but in practice was more difficult. The mine had many branches. They had passed at least three or four dozen since the mine cave-in.

They had an idea as to where the sought-for passage would be, because Keeneye could reasonably determine where the signs of stillness began. That cut their possible choices down to about three branches. But upon close inspection, none of them showed the characteristics of a wind cleaned tunnel.

"So, that is it?" Norwind flopped down on a fallen timber raising a cloud of dust in the process.

"I must admit it is weird," Keeneye offered apologetically. "It's not easy to track the wind."

"I agree," Ultrecht said after a while. "It doesn't make sense that our trail would just end right here. One would almost be compelled to believe that the wind just came out of nowhere."

"Well then," Samson said, "if we can't find a way out naturally, I suggest using magic to teleport us out."

"I don't think that is a good idea," Ultrecht said. "Teleporting the four of us is easy enough, but I have no reference to focus on except the places we've been to and that would only take us in the wrong direction, and Armegon has the scrything bowl."

"Maybe we should pause for some sleep," Norwind offered. "I could think better after some shut-eye."

"I tend to agree," Keeneye yawned.

"Sleeping is not going to get us back on track," Samson warned irritably. "We should keep going!"

"Then pick a direction and check it out," Keeneye said as he fluffed his backpack into a pillow.
Ultrecht meanwhile was unpacking a book. "Don't get lost. And don't go too far."

Samson kicked at some dust which became a cloud and drifted into Norwind's face. The monk coughed a couple of times then gave Samson a dirty look.

"And watch where you step," the elf said.

Samson picked up one of the two light crystals and started down the nearest side passage.

Keeneye watched him go. "A little on the hyper side, isn't he?"

"You would be too if your wife didn't remember you, was about to have a baby that was not yours and was lost in a mine in an alien world," Ultrecht reminded him. "You have antagonized him enough, both of you. Now, go to sleep."

Samson walked along the mine passage shuffling his feet as he went. He did so to make a plain trail that he could backtrack and that the others could follow should they desire to. It was evident that the passage he had chosen was not the direction out. There were cobwebs hanging from every outcropping and the settled dust was several inches thick. There was also some evidence that the passage had been used recently, whether by the enemy's troops, the undead wights that seemed to infest the place or perhaps some occasional explorer he did not know. He was not worried. The only thing other than the few fighters he had seen so far were a few undead and they would not approach the light crystal.

Samson moved ahead. With the light crystal in his left hand, he had drawn a long dagger to use for clearing the cobwebs away. After about a quarter of an hour, he noticed that the mine passage had increased in size quite a bit. It would be easy to ride a horse two abreast, if he had a horse, also there were many signs of passage and some looked quite recent.

As Samson squeezed past a partial cave-in, he entered into a large room-like structure. There was a huge black stone laying in the center. It looked as if it had been placed there on purpose. Far to the left were a pile of white objects and something that reflected light.

Crossing the room. Samson kicked through the debris. He realized with a start that the white objects were shattered bones. There was something shiny mixed in with them and he was about to dig into the refuse when a noise from behind him snapped his attention to alert.

He reached to his belt and drew his sword. As Libra slid free of its scabbard, it screamed like a banshee. Samson whirled around in time to see the huge massive stone in the room's center come to life. In the half light of the massive chamber, he caught a glimpse of two huge white tusks. Samson snapped his eyes to the ground just in front of the monster. A morhulk, he warned himself. Don't look it in the face.

Samson was now genuinely worried. He really did not want to fight this beast. This was its lair, its turf. The trouble was that it had managed to maneuver itself between him and the passage he had emerged from. Also, the fact that his shield hand was busy holding the light crystal put him at a disadvantage. He could call for help but he was not sure if they would hear it and he needed all his breath right now. Samson could feel his pulse quicken as the adrenaline pumped into his bloodstream by the liter. "Okay, big, dark and ugly," he hissed, "let's do it."

Samson raised his eyes until he could see the chest and arms of the eight foot tall behemoth. He had encountered morhulks before and he knew that to look at it in the eye would be a fatal mistake. There was a hypnotic power there and something about their eyes would cause confusion and disarray to the unwary.

"Come meat creature. Come to your end," it said. Samson ignored it. Morhulks were intelligent, but they were completely untrustworthy. All the thing wanted was to trick him into looking into his face. "Bow your head to me, man," it said. "You are not worthy to face me."

Samson watched the legs muscles of the thing contract as it leaped. At the last possible moment, Samson spun around and ducked out of the creature's reach. He spun again and swung Libra at the unprotected backside, but his momentum threw him off balance and he missed his mark.

Again, Samson and the monster circled slowly. Samson gave it plenty of room. He may be the quicker of the two, but the morhulk had at least a full five foot reach and that was hard to dodge. The morhulk lunged again. Again, Samson dodged, but this time he was not fast enough. He felt the monster's claw rake along his right side. His armor saved him from losing flesh, but there was no doubt as to the bruises that would appear later.

Samson was close to the passage he had come through, but it would take time to squeeze through to the other side, time he could not spare, so Samson resolved to fight it out.

"Come now, puny one. Do not drag this out. I will be quick and merciful if you surrender to me."

Samson brought his sword up to the guard position and slowly waved it back and forth. The whining blade rose in pitch. "Do you hear it, monster? The blade hungers for your blood. You are not the first of your kind it will have slain."

"What care I for others?" it asked charging again. Samson paused again as he had before, then at the last moment, he shifted his weight as if he was about to dodge the rush. As he expected, the morhulk moved to intercept him. But instead of dodging, Samson attacked head on driving Libra deep into the creature's chest.

The monster roared with agony. The blow was critical but not immediately fatal. The morhulk wrapped its arms around Samson in a bear hug and the huge ivory tusks closed on his chest. Samson felt ribs cracking and knew that his armor would only withstand those mandible-like tusks for a short time.

As his right hand was pinned between himself and the sword hilt, Samson dropped the light crystal and reached for his dagger. There was a flash of light as the light crystal shattered and everything went dark.

Samson drew the dagger. An added benefit--the darkness saved him from looking into the morhulk's face. With all his might, Samson drove the dagger through the morhulk's skull. Just as the mandibles pierced his armor, he felt the pressure ease off.

Both combatants fell to the floor. Samson tore himself loose and rolled a distance away. He lay in the dark catching his breath. He was relatively certain none of the undead wights or anything else that knew of the morhulk's existence would venture here. But he was also aware that back home, at least, it was rare to encounter a lone morhulk.

As soon as Samson calmed down, he felt around in the darkness for his sword. Pulling it free, he wiped the blade as best he could. "I need light," he told the blade. Instantly, the blade glittered and shone forth with a dim, but comforting light.

Ignoring the pain in his sides, Samson knelt and inspected his handiwork. Satisfied that the monster was not bluffing its own death, Samson retrieved the dagger. Looking about the room, Samson noted that it was circular and had a huge opening at one side. On closer inspection, he saw stalagmites through the opening.

Turning his attention back to the room, he saw that the shiny object among the bones which had caught his attention before was a large sapphire. He pocketed the object arguing to himself that its former owner no longer needed it and he had earned it. Also, he found an old but still strong sack holding at least a few thousand gold coins and a small wooden box lying on its side not too far away.

Samson reasoned that the money was far too heavy for him to try to carry around with untold injuries, but the small box wasn't. So, leaving the coins to fate, Samson stuffed the box into another sack that he had found among the bones. It was in poor shape, but would serve for the time being. With his treasures collected, Samson made his way painfully back the way he had come.

He squeezed through the tight passage with a great deal of difficulty. The injuries he had received were quite painful, though he did not think them dangerous. With gritted teeth, he worked his way back into the mine tunnel. Each step sent pangs of agony through his upper body. He weathered the pain. He would not let down his guard until his friends were present to watch his back for him.

He was also anxious to tell them of his masterful single-handed defeat of two, no, three morhulks. They would not believe him, he knew, but it was tradition among most of the group to stretch tales.

"You look terrible," Ultrecht said as Samson staggered back towards the small fire they had built. Keeneye looked up from the spit he was using to warm up some dried meat. When he saw Samson's condition, he kicked Norwind's foot and woke the latter up from a snoring sleep.

"It's a good thing I didn't yell for help," Samson wheezed out of breath. "That elf's snoring would have drowned out an earthquake."

"Elves don't snore," Norwind objected, but he knew the argument was futile. They had been complaining about his snoring for years.

Keeneye was on his feet helping Samson over to the fire. "What happened to you?" "There were five morhulks in a large room several hundred meters down the mine tunnel," Samson informed them with a wince.

"'Were'?" Ultrecht laughed. "And I suppose you killed them all."

"Ouch!" Samson exclaimed as Keeneye poked and prodded his ribs. "Of course, I killed them all. You don't think I would leave any alive. They might have followed me back to camp and hurt my friends."

"You took some nasty blows," Keeneye informed him.

"No kidding," Samson growled. "And if you don't be a little more careful, you are going to take some blows as well. Ouch!"

Keeneye grinned at the empty threat. How ironic that all the healers had gotten separated during the cave-in. "I'm not a healer, large one," he reminded Samson. "The best I can do is set the bones and mix up a pain killer."

"Well, make with the mixing," Samson cringed. "and soon. I am not in ecstasy."

"Here," Ultrecht said, "inhale the smoke from this weed." He reached into his stash and brought over a large pouch. From this, he produced a handful of dried leaflets. "Tyson discovered it. It seems to be a tranquilizer with some numbing side effects."

As Samson partook of the medicinal herb, Keeneye dressed a wound in his back. "You have six cracked ribs and a shallow gore wound in your back. Keep it clean and it should heal properly."

Feeling much better, Samson told his story of the ten morhulks. He mentioned the loss of the light crystal and thousand gold coins. He revealed the small box and the large gem. Keeneye expertly disarmed the simple trap on the box and opened it. Inside were five coins made of crystalline nature. Keeneye identified four of them as cut rubies and the last was a diamond.

"I wonder what kind of economy is so powerful that it can make coins from precious stones," Ultrecht said in awe.

"Whooee!" Keeneye said looking at the stone. "Now that is a pretty rock. It is probably worth fifty thousand itself."

"Well, I guess that means it is a keeper then," Samson said tossing the rock to Ultrecht.

Ultrecht caught it and eyed it critically. "I'll deposit these in the community fund under your name. We will look at them again when we get outside in the sun," he said as he fumbled with a small pouch at his waist. Opening it, he withdrew a small book. He made some entries into the book describing the coins and stone and its estimated value as well as its owner. He then placed the gem and the book in the small pouch.

Keeneye could not help but watch the gem go into Ultrecht's illusionary pouch. The community fund purse was actually quite large, but to prevent every thief from trying to pick his pockets, Ultrecht had put an illusion of smallness on the valuable item. Also, the magical wards Ultrecht had placed on the purse as well made it a formidable challenge to any footpad. He should know, Keeneye thought. He had tried to take it often enough out of fun.

"Speaking of outside," Samson said, "did you figure out how to get out?"

"Yep," Keeneye answered and pointed directly above them. Samson raised his eyes and followed the fire's smoke upward through a small hole in the ceiling. "An air shaft. That is where the wind was coming from. I climbed up to check. Unfortunately, the hole is too small for a human to crawl through."

Samson explained about the large room where he had fought the morhulks, all twelve of them, and how there had been an opening into some type of cavern.

"Now that would be a stroke of luck," Keeneye said. "I think we could follow a cavern out with very little effort."

"Then, after Samson has some sleep, we will go check it out. If we are wrong, we can always return here and think of something else to do."