Chapter 4 Part 26

Samson squeezed past the narrow section in the passage for the third time, only this time he was not alone. He felt better after having four hours of sleep and a hot breakfast of beans and jerked beef. He was anxious to get back to the room and show his companions the fifteen dead morhulks that he had defeated with a broken arm, ten cracked ribs and a broken dagger. He had spoken of this often as he led the way back to the scene of the carnage.

Contrary to his enthusiasm, his comrades had displayed somewhat less than utter confidence in his accuracy of the true events. As they entered the chamber for the first time, they could see the defeated army of one morhulk laying on the floor. Its body had started to swell as faint traces of decay tainted the air.

"Look at all the money," Keeneye said greedily as he scooped up some of the coins on the floor.

"There’s a whole bag of it over there," Samson informed him. "I was too weak to carry it back to camp."

"Hey Samson," Norwind teased, "where are the other fourteen morhulks?"

Samson glanced around. He playfully drew his dagger and assumed a fighting stance. "The other nineteen must have been dragged off by something more hideous," he laughed. "We must be on guard!"

"Hey Ultrecht, do you want anything from this brute before we leave?" Samson asked. It was common for mage to collect bits and pieces of certain creatures for potions and such.

"The tusks are black ivory. It’s pretty rare and may bring a good price," Ultrecht advised. "But, the only other thing of value are the eyes and I have all the morhulk eyes I need. Besides, I don't have any way of preserving them."

Samson was not about to leave anything of value behind, so he set about the task of shearing the monster's ivory mandibles off. Ultrecht helped Keeneye gather the excess coins. He used a minor spell to reduce its volume enough to fit in his interdimensional community purse. He described the bag and its contents in the log book. "Samson," the elementalist said, "this experience is turning out to be very profitable for you."

Keeneye was standing in the cavern entrance. "I do believe we have found a possible exit," he announced.

"What have you found?" Ultrecht asked joining him.

"This cavern was once an underground river--maybe from the melting snowcaps," the archer surmised and pointed out the marks identifying water flow over long periods of time. "It will flow downhill and will exit the mountain somewhere."

"Yeah," Ultrecht said, "but where?"

"I don't care anymore," Norwind interrupted. "I just want to get out."

"Me too," Samson agreed.

"We're more likely to run into something that doesn't like us in here than in the mine," Keeneye reminded them.

Samson smiled and drew a toothpick from his belt pouch. He held it forth as if it were a sword. "Bring them on," he said with a fair amount of humor. In spite of his recent injuries, he was feeling quite confident.

Norwind laughed. "Okay then, Seymore," he said, "you lead the way."

"I see no reason to be insulting," Samson said with an amusingly hurt look.

"I think I’d better lead the way," Keeneye said as he pulled his bow from his quiver and set the string. He was glad that there was enough room in the cavern for him to use his bow if need be. His sword was an adequate weapon, but he preferred not letting his enemies get that close to him.

Keeneye began walking cautiously down the chamber in the direction he had identified as downstream. Norwind with light crystal in hand walked an arms length to the left and rear. He, in turn, was followed in staggered order by Ultrecht and then Samson at the rear.

They walked for over an hour following the slight downward grade when they happened upon a cold spring, which after Keeneye determined it to be clean, served to refresh thirst and refill near empty winesacks. So far, their only glimpses of anything alive or undead had been a few bats and some phosphorescent moss. The presence of the bats, Ultrecht noted indicated an exit somewhere in the vicinity.

They were disappointed after a two hour survey, however when that exit turned out to be an unreachable chimney. "I wonder how the others are doing?" Norwind asked as he filled his sack.

"Armegon's probably fretting about us being late or lost," Keeneye said. He was washing out a dirty cloth that he had used to clean Samson's wounds.

"I hope Marlena is well," Samson said quietly. No one replied.