The Dark Hero Adventures

Troll Hunter, part 3

All that long day, as they approached the wall, Elysia realized how much those ancient structures had suffered. What from a distance produced a sense of timeless strength and security, on closer inspection became as dilapidated as the road they were traveling on.

The wall that, like a stone curtain, blocked the passage into the valley was four times the height of a man and passed between sheer sheer precipices. The signs of neglect were obvious, like the moss that grew between the cracks in the huge stone blocks, the channels that rainwater had made in them, and the yellow patches of lichen. Some areas were blackened as if by great tongues of fire, and a large section of the wall had collapsed.

Her companions kept silent, because desolation covered the group like a shroud. Elysia felt depressed and nervous. She had the sense that the spirits of old were watching them as they pondered the crumbling remnants of that ancient greatness, and at no time did she take her hand far from the hilt of her sword.

The broken gates of the ancient entrance had been wedged open and someone had made a half-hearted attempt to clean the Hammer and Crown sign on five peaks carved into the stone, though lichen was already growing on it.

“Someone has been here recently,” Jules commented as he studied the doors from close range.

"I see how you have earned the reputation of a ranger" commented Frey with a sarcastic tone.

"Stay where you are" thundered an unknown voice. "Unless you want us to shower you with bolts from our crossbows."

Elysia looked up at the parapet, where she saw the helmeted heads of a dozen dwarfs peering out at them from the battlements. Each of them aimed a crossbow at them.

"Welcome to the Fortress of the Five Peaks" greeted the leader of the group whose beard was grey. “I hope you have a good reason for trespassing into Prince Beliar's domain.

♦ ♦ ♦

They marched into the city under a sky covered with gray-white clouds. The scene seemed post-apocalyptic. Crumbling houses could be seen that had fallen into the streets, a musty and rotting smell wafted from many of the buildings, evil-looking ravens cawed from the remains of chimneys, and clouds of other of those shadowy black birds flew above their heads. heads.

The twenty dwarf warriors who accompanied them were in a constant state of alert. They peered through the doors as if expecting an ambush at any moment, their crossbows loaded and ready to fire. They gave the impression of being in the middle of a battlefield.

Once they stopped, and the leader gestured for them to be quiet. Everyone was still and waiting, and Elysia thought she heard the sound of something slipping away. She squinted into the dimming twilight, but she couldn't see any signs of trouble. The leader of the group made another gesture, and two of the armored dwarfs crept cautiously to the corner and looked the other way, while the rest formed a square. After a long, tense moment, the scouts returned to say that all was clear. But the stillness was broken by Frey's laughter.

"Afraid of a few goblins?" he asked, and the leader of the group glared at him.

“On nights like this there are worse things than goblins hanging around here; you can be sure of it,” he replied.

Frey, as usual, ran his gauntlet-covered thumb across the edge of the greatsword, from which he began to produce sparks.

"Bring them to me," he roared. "Bring them to me!"

Frey's scream echoed once through the ruins before it was muffled and swallowed by the ominous silence, and after that even Frey fell silent.

♦ ♦ ♦

The city was larger than Elysia had imagined; perhaps it was even the size of Archheim, the capital city of the Kaleth Empire. It was practically in ruins, devastated by ancient battles.

“Surely it wasn't the dwarves who caused all this damage. Some look quite recent” commented the catgirl.

"Goblins," Gotrek replied. “It is the curse of their people: when they have no one to fight, they fight among themselves. No doubt the city, after it fell, was divided among various Warlords. And as sure as the greed of the dragons, who were sickened by the division of the spoils.”

“Furthermore, there have been various attempts to retake the city by my people and some nobles from the Kingdom of Lothal. There is still a mineral deposit down there.” The one who looked like the leader spat out.

“It seems that no attempt to hold the city has ever succeeded. Darkness seems to pervade this place, and where it has once been, nothing can truly be seen free of it anymore.” Frey commented.

They entered an area whose buildings had been partially repaired and now seemed abandoned once more. Another attempt to re-settle the city had failed, defeated by the sheer vastness of the ruins. Beneath the walls of the great tower, the dwarves seemed more relaxed, the leader occasionally murmuring an order to them to stay alert.

"Remember Sven," he said. "He and his men were killed while they were on the path to the big door."

The dwarves immediately resumed their stern vigilance. Just in case, Elysia kept her hand close to her sword.

"This is not a safe place." Jules Gascoigne whispered.

The great door of the tower closed as soon as they had passed through it. The crash was similar to that of great stone buildings collapsing.

The room was inhospitable, its walls covered with tapestries with bare wefts and illuminated by strange glowing gems, which hung from chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. On the carved ivory throne inlaid with gold, sat an old dwarf, flanked by rows of warriors clad in blue robes and mail. He directed hostile eyes at them, which went from the dark hero, then to Elysia, finally to the humans who accompanied us. Next to the old man, a dwarf woman, dressed in a purple robe, watched the entire process with a strange, yet serene, intensity; From a chain around her neck, she dangled an iron-bound book.

Elysia thought she could see nervous exhaustion on the faces of these dwarfs. Perhaps the fact of dwelling in this enchanted and ruined city had sapped her mood, or perhaps it was something else; they seemed to be constantly looking over their shoulders, and jumped at the slightest noise.

"Declare your intentions, strangers," the old dwarf said in a deep, proud, and strained voice. "Why have you come here?"

Frey gave him a fierce and rude look.

“I am Frey, leader of the Platinum rank group Ragnarök. I have come to chase trolls in the Darkness under the World. The catgirl is Elysia, my teammate and chronicler. Do you mean to deny me that right?”

Saying the last sentence, Frey propped up his greatsword with glowing runes, and the dwarf soldiers raised their maces.

"No, Frey," the old man answered with a laugh. “I don't pretend. That intention is honorable and I see no reason to stand in your way, you are not an ordinary person, that great sword with runes would allow you to speak even with a King. Although I would like to know how you got such a magnificent artifact, it is not the best of times.”

The dwarf soldiers began to murmur among themselves, and Elysia felt puzzled. It was as if Frey had broken some incomprehensible taboo.

“There are precedents,” declared the purple-robed dwarf, and the sounds of dismay ceased.

Elysia expected her to continue speaking, to expand on what she had just said, but she didn't. Apparently the dwarfs were satisfied that she had spoken.

“You two can go through, Frey and Elysia. Be careful with the entrance you choose to enter the darkness and be careful, lest your courage abandon you.” There was not the slightest trace of concern in her voice, only bitterness.

Frey gave the dwarf a brief nod, and retreated to the back of the hall. Elysia gave her best courteous bow and followed the dark hero.

“Declare your intentions, strangers,” the ruler continued, and Aldred sank to one knee before the throne, a gesture the others followed.

“I have come on a matter related to my faith and an ancient promise of help between your people and mine. The story is complex and narrating it could take a long time.”

The dwarf gave a horrible laugh, and Elysia had the feeling again that some secret knowledge was eating away at the old dwarf lord.

"Speech. We are not rich in any other merchandise than time, which we can use with complete freedom.”

"Thank you. Am I correct in assuming that you are the same Prince Beliar who led the expedition to retake this city from the greenskins twenty years ago?”

“You are right,” Beliar replied, after nodding his head.

"Your guide was a dwarven terrain explorer named Grimmir, who found many secret ways into the city that lies below the five Peaks."

The old dwarf nodded again, and Elysia and Frey exchanged a look, for it had been Grimmir who had told them about the treasure that lay beneath the mountains guarded by a troll.

“A young paladin of my order was part of your expedition and was Grimmir's companion on his adventuring days. His name was Raphael."

"He was a loyal man, enemy of our enemies," Beliar declared. He “he Accompanied Grimmir on his last expedition into the deep, and he never returned. When Grimmir refused to look for him, I sent messengers, but they could not find his body."

“It is good to know that you honored him, although I have been despondent since I learned that the sword he carried was lost. It was a powerful weapon, and it is of great importance to my order.

“You're not the first to come here to retrieve her,” the dwarf woman interjected, and Aldred smiled.

"Despite this, I have made a promise to return the sword, Dragon Slayer, to the chapter house of my order, and I have reason to believe that I will succeed." Beliar raised an eyebrow. “Before starting this search, I fasted for two weeks and punished my body with purgatives and the whip. During the last month, I was graced with a vision. My Lord appeared before me, saying that he was looking forward to my mission and that the time was drawing near to rescue the enchanted sword."

“Furthermore, the grand hierophant of the triumvirate cathedral in the Theocracy told me that during the mission I would be assisted by one of our ancient brothers. I interpreted that she was referring to a dwarf, because that is how dwarfs are always referred to in our town; but it turned out to be the powerful rune weapon carried by our recent traveling companion Frey.”

“I beseech you, Prince Beliar, do not oppose my mission. My brother Raphael, when he fell, honored the age-old vow of our faith never to refuse to help a dwarf. It would be a mark of respect if you would allow me to retrieve the weapon from him.”

“You have spoken well, man,” Beliar replied, and Elysia could see that she was moved, as dwarves invariably were when honor and ancient oaths were discussed. However, there was still a trace of playful mischief in Beliar's eyes when he spoke again. “I grant your request. May you be luckier than your predecessors.”

Aldred stood up and bowed.

“Could you provide us with a guide?”

Beliar laughed again, but his hilarity had a strange, wild quality that ended in a high-pitched, unpleasant cackling.

“I am sure that Frey and Elysia will be willing to cooperate in an undertaking so similar to their own.”

Beliar rose from the throne, and the purple-robed woman stepped forward to support him.

"You can withdraw!" she declared herself as she reached the rear exit of the room.