The Dark Hero Adventures

Troll Hunter, part 7

They looked down the long dark corridor, which had no illumination from the gems. Felix had grown so used to the dim greenish glow that his sudden absence shocked him. It was as if the sun had set at noon. Gotrek started off into the darkness, apparently unaware of the lack of light, and the poet wondered if the dwarf could still see.

“Better light the lanterns,” Frey commented as he shook his head. The light has been looted. Damn goblins…there should be gems lighting up the place, but they just couldn't leave them where they were.”

Jules prepared a lantern, and Zauber lit it with a word, while Elysia watched them with a sense of uselessness. Suddenly, she heard Frey groaning behind her and turned to look.

In the distance, at the end of the corridor, there was a figure that shone with a weak greenish light. It was an old bearded dwarf; light emanated from it and through it, and it seemed transparent, as tangible as a soap bubble. The ghostly silhouette groaned in a high, fine voice, and advanced towards Frey with outstretched arms.

Frey was stunned, and terror washed over Elysia as she recognized the quality of that light. He had seen her before, on the mountainside and outside the city.

"Gods protect us," Aldred murmured, and the catgirl heard the musical note of the templar's sword as he drew it.

She felt her hair stand on end as the ancient dwarf advanced on them. The air seemed colder and made her skin shiver. The figure's lips moved, and Elysia thought she heard a far-off sputtering voice; at that moment, Frey regained the ability to move and stepped forward with his sword held high, as if to parry a blow.

The ghost redoubled its frantic pleas from him, and Frey shook his head as if he didn't understand what he was saying. Then the figure hurried to join him, glancing over his shoulder at the same time, as if pursued by a distant, unseen enemy.

Horror washed over Elysia as she saw the ghost begin to unravel. It was like fog when a strong wind blows, as parts of it just flaked off and vanished. Before Frey could get to him, she vanished completely, and as this happened, Elysia heard a distant, desperate wail, like the scream of a banshee being dragged into hell.

When Frey returned to them, the catgirl noticed that Frey was in a daze. The dark hero looked shocked and puzzled.

They hurried down the corridor, and even when they reached an area where the gems gleamed again, no one seemed in a hurry to turn off the lantern. Many hours after that encounter, the dark hero had still not uttered a single word.

♦ ♦ ♦

Elysia was tempted to drink from a fountain that flowed into an ancient trough carved into the stone, so she leaned over the water, which gave off bluish reflections; but then she felt her hand grab him by her hair and pull her back.

“Are you crazy, cat girl? Don't you realize that the water is corrupted?

Elysia was about to object when Zauber leaned down to look out over the water and inspect the luminous blue dots.

“Mana stone?” he said in a surprised tone, and the catgirl felt her blood run cold. All she had ever heard of the hideous substance was that it was the pure essence of magic.

"What did you say, wizard?" Frey inquired dryly.

“I think this might be a mana stone. It has the bluish luminosity that certain scholarly texts attribute to this unpleasant substance. If there is even a hint of manastone in the water, that could mean a high degree of mutations around this area, along with abnormal magic potency.”

"Mana stone..." Frey spoke those words slowly, it seemed that he had agreed something, but he didn't comment on it.

Touching his chin, Zauber continued his explanation. “I have heard that the ratfolks use manastone for fuel. Perhaps this serves a dual purpose, providing them with sustenance and rendering the wells useless to their enemies.”

“You seem to be well versed in unethical arcane sciences, mage,” Frey commented suspiciously.

“The doctor and I have hunted down quite a few witches,” the paladin explained. “It is a task that forces you to acquire a lot of strange knowledge. Are you implying that any of my companions are so corrupted as to make deals with the Evil Powers?

Elysia shook her head, for she had no wish to irritate a warrior as deadly as the paladin was.

"I apologize for my partner's unfair suspicions."

Frey gave a loud laugh.

“You have no need to apologize. Eternal vigilance is necessary because the minions of Darkness lurk everywhere.”

Aldred nodded his agreement. Apparently, Frey had found a kindred spirit.

"We'd better keep going," Jules Gascoigne commented as he turned to look nervously in the direction they had come.

"You'd better just drink what we brought, cat girl." Frey said as they started off.

♦ ♦ ♦

"What is this?" Elysia inquired nervously, her voice fading into the distance.

Jules shined his lantern into the darkness, and they saw gigantic, misshapen mushrooms casting long shadows on the white, moldy walls. The spores floated in the beam of light.

"In other times, surely the dwarfs grew mushrooms to eat," Frey muttered. Now, it seems, they too have fallen victim to the mutation.”

Frey entered the room, where his boots left footprints on the mold-soaked carpet. Somewhere in the distance, Elysia thought she heard running water.

White splinters about a foot long broke off the walls, growing larger as they parted, and hurtled toward the startled adventurers. Frey cut one of them with the sword, and there was a soft and pasty sound. More and more splinters left the wall like a flurry of giant snowflakes, and Elysia found herself surrounded by soft, bloated bodies and fluttering wings.

“Night Butterflies!” Zuber yelled. “They are moths! They try to reach the light. Turn it off.”

Darkness enveloped them, and the last sight Elysia had was of Frey's body covered in gigantic insects. Then he lay still in the swirling storm of flapping wings as the touch of the moths tickled his skin. In the end, all was silent.

"Let's go out slowly," Frey whispered, his voice betraying distaste. "We will find another way."

♦ ♦ ♦

Catgirl paused to look back down the long corridor, wishing the luminous gems would shine brighter, for he was convinced he had heard something. She reached out a hand and rested it on the smooth cool stone of the wall, feeling a faint vibration. She drummed on the walls.

She strained her eyes and, in the distance, she could make out vague silhouettes. One carried a huge banner topped with what appeared to be a human head. So, he unsheathed his sword.

"Looks like they've found us again," Elysia said, but she got no answer.

The others had disappeared around a corner. She realized they had moved on when she stopped, and ran to catch up.

♦ ♦ ♦

Overcome with dread, Elysia opened her eyes, startled from her sleep. It was Frey's turn to watch, but she seemed to have heard ghostly voices. She looked around the small chamber, and her hair stood on end. Her heartbeat was pounding, racing, inside her ears, and she thought she was going to pass out right then. The strength had completely left her limbs.

The strange greenish glow lit up the room, bathing Frey's sturdy armor, giving him the look of an ethereal knight. Frey's shadow loomed huge and menacing against the wall, and the entity from which the light emanated was kneeling before him, arms outstretched imploringly. It was the ghost of some ancient dwarf.

It was insubstantial, and yet it had the presence of the ages, as if it were a manifestation of ancient times come true. Her attire was regal, and her face had once possessed authority. Her cheeks seemed sunken; she gave the impression that her flesh had come off and was full of holes, as though sifted by maggots. Her eyes, hidden under highly arched brows, were shadowy pools, in which an unnatural light burned. Elysia had the feeling that the ghost was being eaten by some disease from the other world: a cancer of the spirit.

The appearance of that being filled the cat girl with terror, and when she experienced it, her fear intensified even more; there were things that waited beyond the grave, from which even death was no escape. Her sinister powers could seize a soul of hers and torment her. Elysia had always feared death, but now she realized that there were worse things. She felt on the edge of sanity and she wanted insanity as a release from that terrible knowledge.

Nearby, Jules Gascoigne whimpered like a child in a nightmare. Catgirl tried to tear her eyes away from the scene playing out before her, but she couldn't; she was possessed by a powerful impulse, for she was horribly fascinated by the confrontation.

Frey raised the sword and placed it between himself and the tormented spirit. Was it his imagination, the catgirl wondered, or did the runes etched into the massive blade blaze like fire?

"Speak, ghost." Frey said in a rough voice, barely more audible than a whisper. “If you have nothing to say, go away; I am still among the living.”

The ghost laughed, and Elysia realized that it made no sound, but she heard her voice inside her mind.

“Help us, Frey son of Njördr and brother of Freyja, last of the Vanir, bearer of the Lævateinn, and lord of Ragnarök. set us free Our graves are desecrated, and a terrible dark power resides in our halls.”

The spirit wavered and seemed about to dissipate like mist, but it held its form with visible effort.

Although Frey tried to speak, he couldn't. The great muscles of his body were tense. Frey was truly terrifying, Elysia had never seen him that way.

Looking directly at Frey. Many questions arose in Elysia. Who is Njordr? Frey had a sister of hers, what happened to her? Lord of Ragnarök, what does it mean?

"We have committed no crime," declared the spirit in a voice that conveyed ages of suffering and loneliness. “We had set out to meet our ancestral spirits when we were brought back by the desecration of our resting places. They ripped us from eternal peace.”

"How can it be?" Frey asked with a voice that contained both astonishment and terror. "What can pluck a dwarf from the bosom of his ancestors?"

“What else has the strength to alter the order of the universe, dark hero? What else other than the power of a god?

“I am but a warrior. I can't face a god."

“You don't need to. I'm sure your power in that form is more than enough to cleanse our tombs of what's in them, and we'll be free. Will you do that, son of Njördr? If you don't, we won't be able to reunite with our families. We will waver and fade like candle flames in a storm. Even now we are already fading away, and only a few remain.”

Frey looked at the anguished spirit, and Elysia saw in the figure reverence and compassion from him.

"If it is in my power to do so, I will free you."

Hearing this, a smile crossed the spirit's ravaged face.

“We have asked others, including our descendant Beliar; but they were too scared to help us. In you, champion of champions, hero of hero, I find no doubt. You are truly worthy to wield such a powerful artifact as a weapon.”

Frey bowed to him, and the spirit reached out a glittering hand to touch his forehead. It seemed to Elysia that a sudden insight washed over Frey. The ghost dwindled and vanished as if receding into a vast distance, and soon after there was no trace of it.

The cat girl looked at the others. They were all awake and staring at the dark hero in profound amazement. Aldred looked at Frey reverently, and Frey just placed his greatsword on his shoulder.

“We have work to do,” he declared in a voice that was more like the rubbing of two stones.