Draconnic Shenanigans - Episode 36

 Chapter Thirty Six: One Big Aft Dragon

  (Art not my own, all rights to Luca Nemolato for a huge dose of inspiration)

 As the rock around them groaned and popped Jeremiah realized that Nanny Tatters would not be able to squeeze her current bulk into the much narrower and lower tunnel that the rest of the King's Special was currently squeezing themselves into, the trumpet shaped opening of the tunnel funneling them down very quickly and causing quite an amount of pushing and shoving further on in the dark.

Jeremiah smiled. It was always so gratifying to see that no matter how much people may protest it, the truth was that people always reverted to being selfish monsters when there was a crisis. There never was an exception. The moment people realized that it was their lives on the line, they would trample over each other to escape, to ensure that it was not them that died that day.

He turned back to the pressing problem of Nanny Tatters once he was safely within the tunnel mouth himself, squeezing in on one side so that people didn't complain. He eyed her up, ignoring the struggles of the rest of the King's Special. He half closed his eyes and started muttering the prayer to his god. He must have used the wording that he had used before, or perhaps his efforts to drop Ulrich's party into the roiling pool of lava hadn't been enough, though the books in his pocket were glowing with warm power, or perhaps his god just wished to test him. Whatever the reason the prayer did not have the effect that he wanted it to have.

Jeremiah bounced off Nanny Tatters' swelling form, rather like a rubber ball that is suddenly struck by a heavy bat. He crashed into Thorian and sent him tumbling forwards, knocking first Kaelin and then Estella off their feet, rather like a row of pillars, that having been made unstable, feed into each others collapse.

"I say people, steady on," Ulrich called from the back of Weatherall's shell as the crab paused in its sideways scuttled down the tunnel as Peter whistled a warning from the ceiling of the tunnel. He peered into the dark, his eyes struggling to adjust to the fact that the light from the shuddering pools of lava had suddenly cut off.

"I say, Jeremiah, old chum," he called, "Could you light up that moth of yours? I can't see a darn thing right now." He frowned, recognizing Tasnar's voice crying out in agony.

"Do you mean Gerard?" Jeremiah's voice called back, sounding suspiciously near the floor.

"That's the one," Ulrich called, spotting the giant moth struggling to right itself and lift Jeremiah's miter.

"I may be able to," Jeremiah said, sounding as if he had all the time in the world even as the stone around them moved and shifted.

"Well if you could hurry up about it, it would be appreciated," Ulrich called.

"Ah, are you finally admitting that you recognize the superiority of my god?" Jeremiah's voice called from some where higher up than his previous words.

"No!" Kaelin snapped, "He recognizes that if we don't have light soon all of us are going to be entombed alive in here and that includes you, fat man!"

"Now Kaelin," Jeremiah's smile was evident, even though it could not be seen, "There is no need to be personal."

"I also have no need for eyes," Kaelin growled, "I can still smell you, fat man and if we are trapped in here, I'll make sure we eat you first!"

"Now really Kaelin," Jeremiah muttered but a second later a light shone out, only it wasn't Gerard's blue glow, it was the sick yellow shine of the sigil turning in the cage of Jeremiah's antlers.

"Oh that's not good," Thorian said as he picked himself up.

Nanny Tatters' chin and snout was trust into the entrance of the tunnel, the rest of her head unable to squeeze into the opening though she was trying her hardest. Tasnar cried out again, his left leg pinned between Nanny Tatters' jaw and the wall of the tunnel. He pushed and shoved against the crone dragon's cold flesh, one hand bare where he'd ripped his glove off with his teeth but Nanny Tatters' was already dead and as such Tasnar's draining touch had no effect on her.

"Get off my cousin!" he yelled, even as the pain from his leg made the tears spring from his eyes, Quenril ramming his shoulder against the dragon's snout beside him.

That was when Ulrich saw Sabal's predicament. Sabal was pinned to the floor with only his head visible and his face was turning a darker shade of grey than it was already, the thinnest of hisses escaping his lips as the air was pressed out of his lungs.

Nanny Tatters wiggled against the restriction of the tunnel as the ground shifted and Tasnar screamed. Sabal didn't have enough breath left to scream.

"Now, now, Nanny Tatters," Jeremiah brushed down his robe, "That is no way to treat our value and necessary allies. After all if they hadn't peeled you out of your skin, I wouldn't have these lovely robes I have now."

Sabal managed a squeak.

"Get on with it!" Kaelin snapped.

"Now, now, Kaelin dear," Jeremiah smiled in the blue light, "These things can't be rushed, after all you can see what has happened because I tried to rush it the first time."

"Oh for god's sake!" Kaelin snapped and wiggled her way back down the tunnel to jam her fingers under Nanny Tatters' jaw, "Help me with this!"

"Okay dokey," Thorian grinned and crouched on the other side of Sabal's head as the Ash Elf's eyes rolled back in his face. "Heave!"

Jeremiah smiled as he mumbled and muttered, stringing together nonsense words, not meaning to shrink Nanny Tatters at all. He only needed to wait a few more moments and...

"Marmaduke!" Ulrich snapped, "Hold the crab!" Weatherall twitched his eye stalks as Marmaduke seized one of his legs. Ulrich reached up and grabbed the edge of one of the giant centipede's segments, "Peter! Take me there!" Ulrich drew his sword and pointed with it in one fluid motion. Peter whistled his joy at being useful again and barreled towards Nanny Tatters' muzzle.

"Tally ho!" Ulrich yelled as he dangled from Peter's chitin, whipping by over head until his sword point was buried half way into the flesh between Nanny Tatters' nostrils. The crone dragon yipped like a dog and flinched back, recoiling from the sharp thing that was cutting into her nose. Kaelin and Thorian toppled forward, chunks of rock starting to fall around them, but they both reached out and grabbed at Sabal's shoulders as they saw a glimpse of the Ash Elf being dragged back by Nanny Tatters' chin. Kaelin dug her nails in, feeling flesh part but she had her hooks in and slowed his pace just enough for Thorian to get his hand around Sabal's upper arm. The Ash Elf came out from under Nanny Tatters looking more than half flattened but his blood still flowed around Kaelin's claw like nails and as Kaelin hauled him backwards, knocking his back against the floor he dragging in a rattling, gasping breath.

"Up you come," Thorian said and then flinched as a chunk of rock bounced off his shoulder, "Ow!" He frowned as he looked up at the ceiling, the ceiling that had fault lines spreading across it like cobwebs crawling across the pews of an abandoned church.

Quenril was also looking up at it from where he had Tasnar's arm draped across his shoulders, his brother's left leg black from hip to toe.

"We need to leave!" he snapped.

"Agreed," Ulrich dropped lightly to his feet, "Moving on people, moving on. Marmaduke, allow Weatherall a hundred paces down the tunnel please, in fact make that move like eight hundred." He waved them down the tunnel but Estella came back and helped take Tasnar's weight as the Ash Elf struggled to put any weight on his crushed leg. Thorian slung Sabal over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, the Ash Elf's back laying across Thorian's neck as he struggled to reflate his bruised and battered lungs, Kaelin going before him, lifting a light stick high. Peter squeaked as the flaring chemical fire waved uncomfortably close to his face and turned with a flick of his rear end, hundreds of legs trundling over the ceiling, even as he had to navigate the widening cracks and splits in the rock.

Jeremiah looked up and realized how close the ceiling actually was to falling in. This time he meant every word as he gabbled the words of his prayer, begging his god to listen and aid him this time. It definitely seemed that his god was testing him as it rather went from one extreme to the other, the thunder clap of in rushing air triggering more of the ceiling to fall in as Nanny Tatters went from holding up the roof with her bulk to being the size of a large dog in one second. It had the added effect of making her end up nine feet above the floor as she shrank towards the center of her mass. Her single eye goggled.

Jeremiah's wings thumped, launching him forward. Nanny Tatters smacked into his arms and all four sets of claws grabbed hold as he turned, threading his way though the falling stone to streak back into the tunnel, back winging to break just as he ran out of room to do so. She coiled her neck around his shoulders as his feet touched down.

"Do you mind?" he groused, dumping her down, "If you want to be grateful for that then be more useful in the future." Nanny Tatters bowed her head to him and then followed him down the tunnel, his vigor pack barer trotting at their heels.

"Well I do think that is everyone safe and sound," Ulrich looked around with a smile as he sheathed his sword and sauntered  "Yes sirrah, that does area to be everyone safe and..." A chunk of rock slapped the back of his head on its way passed, not unlike the way his mother used to when he had been foolish. It had been many years since he'd thought of his mother; she had left the manor long before he had done, called back to her own people. He hadn't gone with her, old enough to make his own decision and determined at that point to make his father respect him. Well that hadn't worked out, he noted as he straightened his hat and broke into a run to avoid the falling roof, he'd wound up leaving when his grandfather had fallen with his last illness. The old man had recognized the truth about his son long before his grandson had been willing to admit defeat.

Ulrich sprinted after the bobbing light lights that were Kaelin's light stick and Jeremiah's sickly shining, rock and stones falling and rumbling around him, bruising his shoulders and knocking his hat askew as he ran, dodging and dancing to keep his footing. The stone of the passage groaned and banged but gradually it quietened and settled, the choking cloud of dust settling and drifting to the floor. Ulrich slowed to a halt as he reached the junction where the others had paused to catch their breaths, leaning against the walls.

Sabal sat on the floor, Thorian holding his shoulders up as Kaelin and Estella wound bandages they were soaking in for healing potion around his ribs. His face had returned to normal but every other inch of skin seemed to be black with bruises and crush damage.

"Do you think we have enough to wrap his legs?" Estella asked as she grabbed the roll of bandages from Kaelin in her right hand, passed it to her left and handed it back to Kaelin's right hand, soaking it with a trickle from the bottle of 'for healing' potion as she did so.

"His legs yes," Kaelin nodded as she passed the roll of bandages to her left hand, juggling the bottle of 'for healing' potion as she did so, "His arms? No, not if we are going to have enough of this saved for any other emergency."

Quenril was crouched to one side, bracing and wrapping his brother's leg.

"You are lucky that you still have movement in the knee," he muttered.

"Tell that to my ankle," Tasnar mumbled and grimaced as Quenril wrapped said ankle in a figure of eight to brace it.

Ulrich plucked his hat off and brushed the dust off it. Yeah, he'd been determined that he would make his father respect him but his grandfather had known that it was a hopeless goal all along. Ulrich had the feeling that if the old man could have done so, he would have left the estate to Ulrich instead of Ulrich's father but the law of the land wouldn't have permitted it.

Ulrich puffed at his hat, blowing the last of the dust off it. It was only due to his grandfather's last warning that he got out with the clothes on his back.

"Peter," Ulrich called, settling his hat back on his head, "Come here a moment." The giant centipede trundled down the wall and whistled at him. Ulrich crouched and scratched round the base of Peter's antennae. "I want you to let Tasnar ride you for a while, give his leg a rest until it heals, okay?" Peter rippled his legs but then whistled what sounded like consent.

"Are you sure that you will allow me this honor, Chosen of the Matriarch?" Tasnar asked in blank surprise as Quenril helped him stand.

"Absolutely old boy," Ulrich nodded, "With your leg banged up like that you are not going to be able to keep up with the pace and on your feet you are going to be a liability if we go into a battle. Now I'm guessing that not that long ago, you would probably been left behind at the best and had your throat cut at the worse but that was before. Now you need the numbers more than the perfection so you are going to need a little extra help. Peter here is willing so on you get."

"Thank you, my lord," Tasnar looked stunned as Quenril helped him settle on to Peter's back, wincing slightly as his knee settled.

"There you go," Ulrich nodded and then turned to look at where Estella was helping Sabal button his shirt back up, "Now what to do about you?" He pursed his mouth a moment and then looked at Marmaduke. "Marmaduke, old chum, walk Weatherall over here if you please." Weatherall rolled his eye stalks as the automaton clanged over to before Ulrich. Ulrich frowned as he realized that Marmaduke had picked up some dents in the rockfall, still there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Estella, if you would be Weatherall's director then I think we should be able to lay Sabal along the back edge of his shell to give him recovery time," Ulrich stated.

"Me?" Estella blinked in surprise.

"No offensive to you and certainly not to your dragon friend," Ulrich inclined his head, "But you are more of a, shall we say, supporting member of the King's Special, more suited to the back rank than up close to where the meat meets the metal. Therefore, you are a perfect driver for Weatherall while he has the part of the recovery cart. No offense, as I said."

"None taken," Estella's left eye turned black for a moment and then she was climbing up on to Weatherall's shell.

"Load him up," she called as she took hold of the front of Weatherall's shell. The crab hesitated.

"Listen to me and listen to me good," Estella leaned forward so her face was close to his eye stalks as the black filled her left eye and a deeper, older voice over laid her own, "I don't like using force if I can do it another way, so we are going to try it another way but any funny business and it will be back to having your eye stalks pulled around. Savy?"

Weatherall twitched his eye stalks but held still as Thorian and Kaelin hoisted Sabal up on to the back of his shell. The Ash Elf groaned and whimpered but didn't thrash around.

"Right," Kaelin slapped her palms together, "Moving on."

"Hell yeah!" Thorian nodded as a rumbled echoed up the tunnel they had left behind. Looking around he nodded to the right tunnel. "That way."

"I suppose that Quenril and I could check out..." Ulrich peered at the left tunnel. A hand grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him off his feet.

"No more stupid, stupid," Thorian grumbled as he dragged Ulrich backwards into the tunnel, "Every dang time you split up the team..."

"Oh come on, Thorian, old boy," Ulrich protested as his heels rattled over the floor, "I haven't broken up the group that often and I did..."

"Cause more trouble than most of us put together," Thorian cut him off, continuing to drag him down the tunnel, the others trailing along behind them.

"Should we punish the green one for laying a hand on the Chosen?" Tasnar muttered to Quenril as he guided Peter after Thorian and the protesting Ulrich. Quenril thought about it.

"As he has saved us from having to follow the Chosen into what I would judge to be error," he said at least, "I think that we will allow him to be unpunished this time."

After a moment Tasnar nodded his agreement, suppressing a guilty smile as he did so. It was sacrilegious to question the decisions of a Chosen of a Matriarch but somehow it felt more than a little thrilling to do so.

"Maybe we shouldn't tell the Matriarch about this moment," he almost giggled on the rush of adrenaline.

"That would be logical," Quenril agreed after a moment. Tasnar had to look away to make sure he didn't giggle.

They pressed on into the dark, Ulrich complaining the whole way and Thorian arguing with him the whole way. Kaelin rolled her eyes and concentrated on what she could smell to block out the insentient noise of their bickering. After a while she started to frown. There was something that she could smell on the slight drift of the air currents, something that stirred very bad memories.

"What is it?" Estella asked, craning her head sideways, trying to see why Kaelin was growling.

"I know that smell," the hair on Kaelin's arms was standing up straight even as it thicken and she drew he sword. Estella frowned as well and her talismans circled closer as the shimmering glow started building around her. Quenril drew his sword as well and started working his way up the column, trying to get close to where Thorian was still dragging Ulrich.

"Really," Ulrich protested, "This is becoming most uncomfortable and you're are wearing my boot heels out."

"It will be much more than your boot heels before I'm..." Thorian stumbled to a halt as the tunnel suddenly widened out.

"Well," Jeremiah observed after a moment, "That wasn't exactly the welcome that I was hoping for."

A few campfires flickered their last flames over their crumbling black stone, the domed shaped huts made of imported sedem logs standing out and hollow, their one time owners laying sprawled in graceless heaps over the floor.

"Everybody's dead, Grod," Thorian nodded to himself and then started towards the nearest hut. Kaelin was fighting not to scream. She knew that every last one of the Ash Elves that had manned this outpost was dead and worse she knew who by. Yes there were some who had perished due to the Ash Elf bolts that had skewered vital organs or the clean edged sword work that had cut to the bone but the greater number had been literally torn apart, ripped and shredded by beasts that had gloried in the bloody work of pain and death.

Fighting the urge to scream, she stepped slowly towards one of the bodies and crouched, drawing a deep breath in through her nose. Maybe it was because she was fighting the wolf back but her sense of smell didn't seem to co-operate. Either way what she smelt most was Thorian. It was not an unpleasant smell and then it dawned on her that Thorian was wearing some sort of odor de cologne.

Thorian tossed Ulrich into one of the huts and slammed the door closed after him, dusting off his hands as he turned. He saw Kaelin staring at him and couldn't work out her expression.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she sort of smiled as she stood, "Nothing at all."

"Marmaduke!" Ulrich yelped from inside the hut, "Save me!"

Thorian had to dive out of the way as the bronze automation barrelled towards the hut, crashing through the door to reach his master. Peter whistled but really quietly. Tasnar stared down at the giant centipede as the creature made the noise again, slowly swinging his head back and forth over a short distance. Tasnar blinked as he realized that the beast was sighing, obviously unimpressed with Ulrich's chose of new pets.

"Rather let the team down hasn't he?" Tasnar observed. Peter sighed again and waved his head up and down. Tasnar couldn't help but smile through the pain in his leg.

"Yes well," Ulrich's voice came from inside the hut, "As much as I appreciate the effort you made to get to me post haste, I would prefer it if you try a little harder to not trample me flat next time." The was a rumbling groan of metal, which seemed to be Marmaduke's voice.

Kaelin rolled her eyes and started digging through pockets. She was a little disappointed to discover only fourteen gold coins. Either all the troops posted to this outpost were a bunch of cheapskates or someone else had already gone through peoples pockets after the noise had stopped. She frowned sourly and kicked a fallen chunk of sedem as she stood. She bet it was the latter especially as, and she double checked before coming to the conclusion, the only weapons she could see where broken ones. She could figure who had taken the stuff. It was probably why these renegade Ash Elves where allied to her grandfather's pack in the first place, the werewolves being used for their muscle and taking the young that they fancied corrupting, while the Ash Elves provided fire power and then scrounging all the material goods that the werewolves weren't interested in.

"Um, shouldn't these guys have more stuff?" Thorian asked, holding up the handful of gold coins he'd found.

"My guess would be that we're scratching on leftovers," Kaelin muttered as she hid her stash of gold coins.

"So..." Thorian frowned as he thought about it squeezing understanding through his brain, "So someone was here already and took the stuff. Grod, I hate it when that happens, if someone is going to be stupid and up and die then they should at least leave some decent stuff lying around."

"I don't think people have much choice about who takes what after they are dead," Kaelin sniffed looking around the wreckage of the outpost. The smell was the worst, the smell was always the worse. It reminded her of too many hunts she'd been on with her grand sire and sire. The dark of the night and the moonlight and the screams and the soft flesh that couldn't fight back and the hideous gladness that it wasn't her, that it wasn't her who was dead. Her eyes turned tawny as she looked at the dead and the cold. They were family, her sire and grand sire, but they weren't the family that she would honor. People said to respect your father and mother all the days of your life but what should you do when you father was a monster and your mother the prey he allowed to live only as long as it was entertaining to keep it alive? What then?

"Estella?" she called, walking over to where Estella was guiding Weatherall over to the hut where Ulrich was now having a poke around. The young lady in question looked up at her as she tapped on the back of the crab's shell, causing Weatherall to come to a stop.

"Problems?" she asked, "I mean beside obvious." She nodded to the crumpled forms of the dead.

"If we ever make it back up to the surface," Kaelin stated, "Would Valodrael consider doing me a favor?"

Estella tilted her head, asking her passenger a mental question.

"Depends on what the favor is," Estella reported.

"I'm going to need a hand to get close to the old wolf," Kaelin stated, "Would Valodrael consider giving me a lift? In return he can have the rest of the inner circle... for lunch."

A grin that was all malice, all dragon and all hunger twisted Estella's lips.

"I find your... proposition," Valodrael's voice echoed from Estella's throat, "Delicious."

"We have an accord then?" Kaelin asked cautiously.

"Consider it done," Valodrael still grinned with Estella's mouth, "I'll look forward to the fun with... anticipation."

"It is considered crass to indulge in such things in public, good people," Ulrich called from the hut, "Marmaduke, could you take a step outside? You are rather blocking the light." The automaton clumped through the door and stood to one side.

"What?" Estella asked, frowning as Valodrael withdrew.

"I do believe that our noble friend was trying to insinuate that I was indulging in flirtation with the good Lady Kaelin," Valodrael observed in her mind, "He obviously has no concept of a Void Dragon's hoard. There is only one lady I'd flirt with... if she'd like me to." Estella's frown cleared after a moment to be replaced with a blush as the heat filled her belly. She put a hand up to the chain of silver and emeralds around her neck. Her talismans twittered, the red cardinal landing on her shoulder, wondering what was wrong with their mother.

"Don't worry," Estella murmured a little unsteadily, "It's not anything wrong... exactly." The red cardinal twittered again, not understanding.

"Could be something a little too right," part of her mind observed and she heard Valodrael's quiet chuckle in the background of her own thoughts. She blushed again.

Ulrich frowned as he turned over fallen supplies.

"Well, whoever ransacked this place did a good job of it," he observed, "If they haven't taken it, they have broken it." He picked up a half shredded blanket and something tinkled as it rolled out of the folds. "Well, what do you have here then?" Ulrich picked it up. The little crystal bottle sparkled in what little light there was and its contents waved back and forth on the inside of the container. Ulrich peered at it for a long moment and then took the stopper out. The smell was heavenly, the delicate scent of roses with the perfume of light rain on sun warmed grass with just a hint of robust rosemary underneath. It smelled of summer days and beauty. Ulrich stoppered the bottle again and stepped outside.

"I say, Quenril, any idea what this is?" he called to the Ash Elf. Quenril straightened from where he had been trying to at least shroud some of the dead and looked at what Ulrich was holding up.

"That is Essence de Sol," he noted, a shade of grey washing over his skin, "Only strong women have such magical items in their possession."

"It which case we will have to see if the great Lady Zilvra would appreciate such a gift," Ulrich smiled as he tucked the little bottle into a pocket.

"She will," Quenril note, the grey becoming more pronounced, "But it also means that there was a high ranking visitor to the out post before... before this happened." He waved an arm at the carnage around them.

"Ah," Ulrich fell in with a resounding clang, "Oh." He thought about it some more. "Visitor, or refugee from whatever happened at the Spider Clan Citadel."

"Ref-few-gee?" Quenril frowned, a slight yellow mixing into the grey, "What is this thing - ref-few-gee?"

"Someone who has been forced to flee their home due to the threat of their life being ended by violence," Ulrich explained, "They are usually looking for shelter and safety from whatever attacked them and... Oh no."

"Chosen what is it?" Quenril asked.

"Do you see a women's body in all of this?" Ulrich asked, "I have a bottle of very expensive perfume that says a woman was here but unless we can find a body..."

Quenril went bile yellow.

They were not the only ones inspecting the bodies, Jeremiah was picking his way through the ruins of the slaughter, turning over some to assess their condition, Nanny Tatters and his vigor pack barrier trotting along behind him. The vigor had its usual lack of expression, its head bowed under the weight of the pack but Nanny Tatters seemed to be watching her master with something that appeared to be interest in his actions.

Jeremiah turned another corpse over, noting the elaborate scarification tattoo that covered one side of its face, the branching lines of a spider's web cut across the features. This one was no good, half of its insides were falling out through the rents in its skin.

Jeremiah rose and stumped across the ground. There had to be one at least half way reasonable in this pile of offal. As he picked his way back and forth, he noticed something. Some of the dead were extremely messy, skin burst and ripped by claws and teeth, bone crushed by jaws that had clamped down that hard they had ruptured the calcium structure underneath. Others were neater, one long gash as straight as silver or a small hole where a bolt had pierced a major organ and caused a cascade of failure.

Jeremiah smiled as he looked over to where Kaelin was helping study the bodies. It seemed her family was still allied with the outlaws from the Ash Elf society. He supposed that was what happened when you drove out and ostracize a large enough group of people, or several groups of people - eventually they managed to band together to hit back at the ones responsible of their pain. It was a shame in a way, that he hadn't known about the exiled Ash Elves a couple of years ago. He would have gained a lot of respect from the Abbey for being willing to go on missionary to such a peoples and it would have been a futile recruiting ground for his god. Unfortunately now he probably wouldn't have time to bowl them over with a show of his power and recruit them to his cause before they shot him on sight, no thanks to the King and that interfering metal stick insect. Oh well, if they couldn't serve as willing converts to the cause then they could serve as unwilling sacrifices. Klu'ga-nuth wouldn't mind either way, the renegade Ash Elves could either be puppets of his will in life or souls to be devoured in death.

Jeremiah rolled over another corpse and inspected it. This one showed promise, a single hole decorated its forehead where the bolt had gone in and rendered its brain useless as the trickle of blood drying below its ears attested.

"Bring this one," he ordered Nanny Tatters and as he marched away he heard her dragging the carcass behind him. He passed by the obviously mauled ones, he'd had enough of smelly servants thank you very much, picking over the battle field until he found another one that had taken a bolt through the heart. That one was of slightly lower quality as the bolt had been left stuck in it for what ever reason but there again, seeing his servant still obeying, even with the cause of their death so visible, would convince so many to fear him and his god. And the more who feared, who bowed, who whimpered for mercy from the one true god. Jeremiah put his hand in his pocket and brushed his fingers over the cover of his books. They were growing ever brighter and more shiny, his original one now appearing to be almost new, the edges crisp and neat, the pages crackling with the crispness of unblemished parchment.

"Put that one there," Jeremiah smiled as Nanny Tatters opened her mouth and let the arm of the corpse she'd been dragging for him flop down beside its companion. Jeremiah looked round, meaning to call to the Ash Elves that followed around, yipping at Ulrich's heels but the eldest was busy with Ulrich. They were apparently looking for one specific body among all the corpses and didn't look up when he called. Tasnar, the slacker, was holding on to Weatherall's leg, the giant centipede drawn in tight beside the crab, so that Estella could climb down and go for her own search through the abandoned huts. It seemed their little prissy miss was as much a vulture as the rest of them, people were always such hypocrites.

There was a nasty crack and Jeremiah looked back to see Tasnar turn his face away with a groan. Peter, as no one was making him rush, had decided that all this food left around must be for him and had set to as such.

"Well, doesn't that put you off your dinner for a while," Estella muttered and then Weatherall reached forward with one massive set of pincers and slowly dragged a ruptured body within his reach so he could start picking it apart. Sabal mumbled something where he lay across the back of Weatherall's shell but didn't sit up.

"As much as I really don't want to watch this," Tasnar had his eyes closed even as he held on to Weatherall's leg, "It does mean that we don't have to worry about trying to fed them from our own supplies."

"It also means that the disruptions continue here as well," Sabal muttered, turning his head and opening one eye to look at his cousin, "If the world was as it should be then the kerveads should be swarming here already."

"True," Tasnar nodded after a moment, doing his best to ignore the crunching clicks as Peter scissored his dinner into bite sized pieces and the fleshy tearing noises as Weatherall delicately picked apart his meal, "How are you feeling cousin?"

"Sore," Sabal admitted, closing his eyes again, "But it is a little easier to breath."

Estella turned away and began exploring in the abandoned huts. Ulrich was right, what hadn't been taken had been smashed. Whoever had raided this place wasn't interested in conquest, they were interested in destruction.

"Humans," Valodrael snorted in her mind.

"Your meaning?" Estella asked as she peered into shadowed corners.

"Well one can hardly call them animals," Valodrael noted, "Animals don't go to war to simply kill for the fun of it, they hunt for food and they fight for territory, or safety if you like, and maybe a mate. They don't slaughter for the fun of it."

"And you don't enjoy the kill?" Estella raised an eyebrow as something caught her gaze.

"Oh I enjoy it," Valodrael admitted it openly, "We Void Dragons have never been what you humans would call 'nice' but I enjoy their fear more. Their fear as they realize that the pretty little thing they thought was so helpless turns out to have a friend they know they can't match and can't beat. Their despair when they realize that their 'easy meal' was nothing more than bait to make them reveal what they truly are and bring them within my reach. Ripping the wings off a butterfly maybe have its appeal but it is too easy. I like hunting other predators, their fear, their despair when they realize that they are no longer the alpha beast in the woods, when they realize that all the pain they have given to others is about to come back to eat them alive. Oh yes, now that is my pleasure."

Estella could feel his smile, a smile of sharp angles and teeth, a serial killer's grin as he discovered his next target and she smiled in response. After all, she could hardly complain, seeing as that was what had formed the foundation of their deal and there were more than a few times she'd enjoyed seeing the predators' faces when they realized that this little red was not a meal, that this little girl was not a tease and that she was not a walking invitation for what was underneath. It was worth the moment of discomfort as he erupted from her to see the world a little cleaner.

She crouched and picked up the thing she had found fallen in a corner that nobody had bothered to check.

"Oh ho," Valodrael rumbled in her mind, "Now where did they find that I wonder."

Estella rubbed her thumb over it, rubbing away a thin layer of grim, the curves and sinuous ridges of its twisting form making a circle of dark crystal.

"It's Seraphar isn't it?" Estella questioned.

"Maybe," Valodrael wasn't fully convinced, "But either way that it a very powerful amulet. It is certainly pulling on the Fae realm."

"You can tell that?" Estella raised her eyebrows in time with her mental questioning of her passenger.

"Oh yes, that is oozing so much power I'm surprised the priest hasn't come snuffling for it," Valodrael replied.

"Well in that case," Estella slipped the loop of it over her head, "If we can find out if it is pulling on the whole of the Fae realm instead of just one particular dragon then we might have found at least part of your power source. If nothing else the Fae Realm could help sustain the talisman wood... like Thorian's new regeneration ability. I'm not sure it will be able to support you on its own but if it helps to maintain the foundation it will be worth incorporating."

"A step forward is better than a step back," Valodrael noted, "But I would still keep it hidden from the priest."

"Sensible idea," Estella tucked the amulet itself under her clothes before she turned and stepped out of the hut.

Said priest had decided that seen the living Ash Elves were not paying him the proper attention that was his due then he would not give them a warning about what he was about to do next. The slowly turning sigil in the cage of antlers that adorned his head sped up, shining its putrid light brighter as Jeremiah began to chant the very worse of his prayers. The shadows writhed and twisted across the floor, threaded with light to pour down the throats of the two corpses he had chosen. Nanny Tatters blinked and watched, something like interest stirring in her gaze. Jeremiah didn't notice, busy with shaping his god's power into the vessels before him. The last of the light threaded darkness poured down their throats and vanished. Jeremiah waited a heart beat.

The corpses at his feet twitched and jerked.

"Rise, my minions, rise and serve the great god Klu'ga-nuth," Jeremiah smiled as the Ash Elf puppets stumbled jerkily to their feet, their eyes shining with the same pale white glow as his own. He turned round and found himself facing Quenril. The Ash Elf's mouth was a thin line and his hands were clenched.

"Oh I'm sorry," Jeremiah did not sound sorry at all, "Were they friends of yours?"

"Not really," Quenril said, barely parting his teeth. Tasnar wasn't looking all that happy either and Sabal was struggling to sit up to see what the problem was.

"Well then, surely you can't object to my acquisition of them, seeing as you would have been undoubtedly been at war with them before now," Jeremiah said.

"You know nothing of our politics," Quenril's eyes were flat, "Your kind are like children compared to us, children playing a game that we adults mastered centuries ago. I doubt that you could have ever understood the webs of alliance and adversity we wove at our peak."

"And did that aid you when the werewolves came calling?" Jeremiah asked, with his not so nice smile.

Quenril pressed his lips to a thin line and then turned to walk over to Sabal, checking his brother's bandages.

Kaelin kicked a broken bucket over and turned back to the rest of the group, snapping the tension.

"There's nothing of value left here," she said, hands on hips, "So people, step it up." She beckoned them and only continued once she was sure that she had all of their attention. "Right there's only two ways in and out of this outpost so we have only two choices - forward or back."

Thorian grunted and scratched his horny nails over his scalp.

"Going back," he said slowly, "Takes us back to where the earth was shaking itself apart so... I say let's keep going forward."

"I agree with Thorian," Jeremiah said at once.

Ulrich paused in the act of climbing up on to Weatherall's back.

"Did my ears deceive me or did you just agree with Thorian about something?" he asked, not caring about how ridiculous he looked with one foot up on Weatherall's leg."

"My dear Ulrich," Jeremiah's smile was still his not nice smile, "Do you not know how important it is to encourage and reassure the feeble minded? Of course I agree with Thorian on this point, as he is stating the blindingly obvious."

"I knew it couldn't be genuine," Ulrich shook his head and pulled himself up on to Weatherall's shell. Thorian just looked at Jeremiah, grunted and turned away.

"Why Thorian," Jeremiah called after him, "Don't you have any more pearls of wisdom for us today?"

"No good in saying things to people what don't listen," Thorian muttered but a Thorian mutter was loud enough for Jeremiah to hear any way. Jeremiah still smiled any way, knowing that he had upset the big brute. The rest of the party looked at him with varying levels of disgust and turned their backs on him to head out into the tunnels once again.

"Grrr," Kaelin muttered, her wings trying to stretch and closing again as they brushed against the walls of the tunnel, "I'll be glad once we get back to the surface and I can do some proper scouting ahead. I've been stuck under ground for long enough."

"I'm sure that our Ash Elf friends fine your opinion fascinating," Jeremiah called to her. Said Ash Elfs barely looked back at him but Quenril, who was walking in front of Ulrich and Sabal riding on the crab, stepped a little faster so he could whisper to her without Jeremiah over hearing.

"We do not like this being away from our Matriarch for so long either," he admitted, "As the surface is where she was heading to then there we long to be also."

"You'll fine it very different from life down here," Kaelin warned as they walked through the tunnels, trying to take the turns that had floors that slopped upwards.

"We know," Quenril admitted, "But it seems we have no other choice, we can't stand this alone, we need others, we... we are weak."

Kaelin paced on into the dark, holding high a light stick so they weren't reliant on the diseased glow of Jeremiah's sigil, wanting to leave it at that, not wanting to be a part of the Ash Elves' struggle, she had enough of her own, she didn't need theirs as well. Heck, they were the ones breathing down her neck about the forfeit but...

"And there's your strength," she said at last.

"Good lady?" Quenril queried, frowning.

"I said there's your strength," Kaelin repeated, "Admitting that you are weak is the first step to strength, admitting that you are afraid is the first step to bravery. Only the truly strong can cry. The strength that is based on never admitting that you are weak, that you are afraid? That strength can only last while someone is afraid of you. That's the strength that my grand shire has and look what it has brought him. The whole world is turning against him because the whole world knows that his strength is based on him destroying everyone and everything about him. He is ugly, hard and cruel and it bleeds from him on to everyone else and now everyone else is beginning to rise against him, even other predators. Admitting that you are weak is the first step to strength."

"I...see, I think," Quenril looked away as they paced on, eyes troubled. They walked on, the soft sigh of stone around them, the murmur of air moving against the mouths of tunnels and passageways whispering to them. Kaelin found herself trying not to listen to it, her mind imagining voices in that whispering. She had enough problems without her mind beginning to drift sides ways as well but it was hard to hold on to that thought when the tunnels seemed to be just one long continuous tube of stone. The eyes lingered on any differences, any variation in shade or texture to try give itself something to notice. The weight of her pack, the chaff of a strap, the rub of a shoe, these were things the mind grabbed and heightened to drastic amounts to try and stave off the mind numbing monotony of it all.

It was almost with relief that she spotted a greenish glow rising in the tunnel. More like greenish white she decided, almost like someone had mixed the skin of a green apple into a pail of milk. That was ridiculous and impossible but it was what it made her think of.

The tunnel opened up into a smallish cavern, its floor low except for a slightly raised hummock in the middle, its ceiling and walls cover with a fungus that produced the glow lighting up the air.

"Whee!" Thorian cried joyfully and jumped forward. The splash soaked his trousers but he didn't seem to mind as he jumped and bounced in the shallow water, like a child puddle jumping in the rain, kicking up sheets of spray just for the sake of it.

Jeremiah smiled his not nice smile and turned away. If the orc child wanted to prove that he only had half a brain cell then let him, who was he to stop his stupidity?

Jeremiah stepped daintily to one side to avoid Thorian's play, his collection of puppets and pets padding behind him. He studied the wall but there didn't seem to be anything particularly powerful about the fungus growing there. He glanced about and then noticed that what he had taken for random heaps of stone where actually broken pottery spilling its contents into the pool and the ground of the little hummock. The stems of battered, broken plant life was mixed with the shattered shards of ceramics and Jeremiah smiled again. It seemed that some of those ridiculous pottery golems had met their end in this place and he heartily approved.

Kaelin tipped a cracked piece of pottery over with her boot. It fell with a clatter and was answered by a low moan. On the small hammock one of the pottery turtles turned its head with the clicking sound of pottery snapping over and over again, its large shape, the height of a medium pony but infinitely broader, stumping along on its pillar like legs. It lowered its head to the shattered remains of one of its brethren, its neck painted with lines of light that came and went as the pottery of its form split and reformed to allow the movement. It seemed to sniff the fallen and then it lifted its head and uttered a low, drawn out moan of distress.

Kaelin sighed, pain seemed to be the lot of many things in this world and then she frowned as she spotted what was in the dirty near its trail of round footprints. She made her way slowly and carefully through the pool towards it but the pottery beast didn't react to her, moaning again in its private pain. Kaelin crouched and stared at impression pressed into the mud. It was longer and more narrow that a human foot had right to be. It had also been made by someone who hadn't been wearing shoes as she could see the lines where the claws had raked over the surface of the mud. She bit down on the impulse to scream a whole list of swear words and then start making up her own.

Ulrich watched Kaelin's face and guessed who had been responsible for the golems being battered apart. He looked at where the last remaining one stood, the poor thing grieving for its fallen and broken comrades, then his eyes were distracted by the drift of greenish mist in the air. Ulrich frowned as he gazed at it, watching it twist and turn, reminding him of the dust motes dancing in the beams of sunlight in the school chapel while the chaplain droned on and on during the Holy Day Mass. It had always been so boring, this how ever could be something not so tiresome. He waved to get Quenril's attention and the eldest of his Ash Elf companions paddled over from where he'd been studying the wreckage of the pottery golems.

"Tell me old chap," Ulrich asked, "Do you have any idea what these things are? It is just that we have come across them before, before we met you in fact and they didn't seem to be dangerous. In fact they were quite friendly, the giant spiders that were living with them not so much, it was one of those blighters that bite my arm come to think of it. Either way, the pot animals didn't seem to pose a risk so do you have any idea why anyone would want to smash them up?"

Quenril shook his head, his expression one of shock.

"None of the clans would ever consider this," he stated, "We will use many tools and our ways are strange to your people but we would not destroy the production of food in this way. The pottery golems take that which we cannot directly eat and convert it to that which we can." He turned to look round the cave, gazing at the shattered shards strewn in the shallow water. "This... this is madness. Even when it has come to outright war between the clans we have never destroyed the food. There are but few ways to grow food in the Underworld, destroy them on the path of war and you gain nothing. A citadel is worth nothing if you cannot feed its people. We have always understood that. This... this is a war like nothing we understand."

"So its scorched earth tactics," Ulrich muttered and Quenril looked at him sharply.

"Its a method used by the more ruthless and frankly less intelligent warlords of the surface world," Ulrich explained, "It means that they burn everything before them." Quenril frowned.

"I don't understand," he admitted, his brain refusing to look at the scope of destruction Ulrich's simple sentence revealed. Ulrich sighed.

"They burn the crops, they slaughter the livestock, in some cases they even poison the wells," Ulrich explained, looking away as Quenril's face became more and more horrified, "It means that even if they lose nobody else wins. They burn the sky and scorch the ground so that no one else can claim it. There have even been stories of wizards who have unleashed the repulsive fire." He glanced at Jeremiah, part of him wondering, part of him praying that he was wrong.

"The repulsive fire?" Quenril asked.

"The fire that burns without heat or light and yet consumes all living things," Ulrich patted Weatherall's shell but it was himself he was comforting, "It burns within living flesh unnoticed until it destroys those that it has touched. There are places in the surface world, ringed by barriers of metal thorns that do not rust and marked by symbols of death and decay. Messages in languages long dead adorn the walls of tombs warning explorers that no mighty deeds are remembered there, that they are not places of honor, that they are not the tombs of treasures but burial grounds for that which would spread and poison everything in its path. The oldest is said to be marked with star charts that predict the movements of the heavens for a hundred thousand years because that is how long it will take for what was buried there to be rendered fully dead. It is a terrible way of making war."

 Quenril gazed at him, Tasnar twisting round on Peter's back to look at him while Sabal had turned his head to Ulrich's voice.

Ulrich took a deep breath and shook himself, pulling back from the edge of the abyss he had just looked into.

"Any way chaps," he managed a smile, "What is all this funny dust in here?"

"Funny dust?" Quenril frowned, looking out at the chamber again. His eyes went wide.

"Cover your faces!" he yelled, digging frantically into his pack.

"You what?" Thorian asked, turning to frown at the three Ash Elves who were hastily tying strips of cloth over their noses and mouths.

"Cover your faces!" Quenril cried again, even as his fingers pulled the knot behind his head tight, "The repulsive fire is not the only thing that can destroy you from the inside out. The pottery golems used their defense before they died, if the seeds get inside you, they will take root and grow."

Kaelin stared at him and then yanked the front of her shirt up over her mouth and nose, holding it there with one hand. Estella fumbled with the top two buttons of her new shirt for a moment and then did the same. Ulrich dug in his pack a moment and then tied a bandana over his face.

Thorian frowned a moment and then clamped his lips together and scrunched up his face as he started to hold his breath.

The lonely golem took no notice as Jeremiah held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth and twitched a blanket one handed over Nanny Tatters and his vigor pack barer. Jeremiah looked at the two Ash Elves he had puppetted, considering. He really wanted to know what all the fuss was about but at the same time giving up himself for scientific study wasn't something he was willing to consent to. His minions however... Besides, judging by the last ones, these would start smelling all too soon any way. He decided to leave them exposed and see what happened.

Thorian was starting to go a very strange color when he pointed to the tunnel to the south and started tottering towards it.

"My dear Thorian," Jeremiah asked, his voice muffled by the handkerchief, "Are you alright?"

Thorian made a strained sound in his throat, his eyes rolling as he kept putting one foot in front of the other, towards the tunnel.

"I do say, I am quite concerned for you," Jeremiah continued, "Are you sure that you don't need assistance?"

Thorian  mumbled something in his throat again, pressing on.

"My dear Thorian," Jeremiah kept the handkerchief pressed to his face, "I know that you were not brought up by civilized people but it is considered rude to not reply when someone inquiries after your health."

Thorian screwed his face up even more, the guttural noises deep in his throat continuing as he stumbled towards the tunnel mouth.

The last pottery golem continued to low as they moved away across the cave. Thorian looked back, obvious torn. The poor thing sounded so lonely and sad. Jeremiah always seemed to get the pets. Why did Jeremiah always get the pets? Jeremiah... poked him in the side. Thorian glared and stumbled, light headed with lack of breath and he saw the seeds swirl in the air, clustering around Jeremiah's new Ash Elf buddies. The seeds seemed to be flowing up their nostrils and for a second Thorian thought he could see something like veins moving beneath the skin of one of them. Only... they weren't veins. Thorian turned and round and flung himself towards the tunnels entrance. He didn't know what he'd just seen but he was sure that he didn't want to be around when it happened for real.

He didn't stood holding his breath as he pushed on into the dark. He could hear the others before him but he just wanted to be as few away from that crawling creeping horror that was nestled within Jeremiah's glow eyed friend.

"Do you think that he can hold his breath much longer?" Estella asked Kaelin with concern.

"No idea," Kaelin noted, "I suppose it will be fun to..."

The floor gave way below all of them. Marmaduke managed to shift his weight so he just landed with an almighty crash, one fist smashing a hole in the rubble strewn floor of the pit even as the other flashed out and caught Weatherall's in the palm of it hand. The crab froze and then as the noise quietened, bruxed his mouth parts together, eye stalks waving to and fro.

"Well caught that man," Ulrich congratulated, from where he'd hung on to Weatherall's shell. A groan behind him made him turn. Sabal had been thrown off by the drop but instincts had taken over and he had landed in a crouch.

"You Okay old bean?" Ulrich asked.

"Better than I was," Sabal gritted his teeth and tried to stand again, "But I've been better as well." He grunted again. "Anyone have a hand free?"

"Here," Kaelin tutted and helped him straighten up, his right knee flexing with an all mighty crack that resounded in the dark.

"Wow," he said after a moment, "That actually feels better."

"Yes well, nobody needs a statement every time your body does something," Jeremiah observed from where he was brushing down his clothes, Nanny Tatters flapping above as she flipped herself over to find her feet. The vigor just stood up with the slow deliberation with which it did everything. The two undead Ash Elves just lay in the rubble, not moving.

Thorian stood up and then fell down again, thumping into the floor that solidly that the breath exploded from his lungs. He gasped on reflex.

"Oh my head," he sat up and clutched his skull.

"Well that's what you get for trying to make yourself pass out by holding your breath for too long," Kaelin snapped, looking around for the other three.

Estella sat up, her talismans clouding around her and put a hand gingerly to her face. Her fingertips came away bloody.

"Ow," she muttered, fishing in her pack so she could sprinkle a few drops of 'for healing' potion on a wad of cloth and dab carefully at the thumb size grazes above and below her right eye.

"What I get for sliding on my face," she muttered, wincing as she dabbed the torn end of her nose, "Not that I ever was a good kisser." She paused as her passenger grumbled his irritation at that statement but she didn't argue with him, she didn't feel up to it.

"This really hasn't been my candle time," Tasnar was unwrapping his leg and rearranging the lengths that hadn't been ground through by friction. He had picked up a collection of nasty gashes on his thigh but thankfully none of them had torn through the skin layer. With a grunt he pulled himself up on to his feet, gingerly testing his leg but it seemed to be able to take his weight.

Quenril rolled over and levered himself upright before clutching his shoulder.

"It hasn't been any of our candle times," he muttered and then looked up at the rim of the pit their had fallen into.

"Ten foot," Thorian sniffed, "Not too bad." He eyed it up, took two steps back, broke into a run and launched himself up. One hand got a grip, the rock edge crumbled under the other. Grunting and cursing he dangled for a moment and then found a firm piece of rock. Sweating, he pulled himself up and over the edge of the rock.

Ulrich looked around and saw Peter dangling, half in and half out of the pit. He whistled and Peter came scuttling down the wall of the pit, pulling up just in front of Marmaduke.

"Good boy," Ulrich nodded and stepped from Weatherall to Marmaduke to Peter. He settled himself in place and then nodded at the wall.

"Take us up and out, Peter," Ulrich commanded and then had to lean forward and grab hold of the side of one of Peter's segments as Peter flowed his multitude up and over the edge of the pit.

"Good boy," Ulrich sat up and patted him as they came to a stop beside Thorian, "Alright Marmaduke, set Weatherall down on the floor gently and help the others up and other of the hole, please."

The automaton tilted his head sideways and then set the giant crab down on his legs. He marched to the edge of the pit and turned, half crouching, lacing his hands together to form a cup. The others frown at him.

"Step in his hands," Ulrich called down, "He'll give you a boast up." They still frowned and then Quenril approached. He set his foot in Marmaduke's linked hands and then reached up.

"Whoa!" he cried out as Marmaduke hoisted but then he was grabbing for the edge of the pit.

"H-up you come," Thorian grinned and seized his wrists, helping him over the last step.

"Seems easy enough," Tasnar muttered but didn't sound utterly convinced. He gritted his teeth as he balanced on his battered left leg to fit his right foot into Marmaduke's cupped hands.

"Wah!" he yelled as Marmaduke lifted a little too soon. He tottered, he wavered, he very nearly fell. He wound up clinging on around Marmaduke's neck, dangling in a very undignified position. It took him several minutes to scramble upright enough for Thorian to be able to reach down and grab his hands. There was a whoop of a down beat of wings as Jeremiah sailed overhead on his wings.

"Tell me people are we going to get on sometime today or are we going to just flim-flam around here until we all decide to expire?" Jeremiah asked as his feet settled to the floor.

"Working on it," Thorian grunted as he readied himself for the next one.

"You go first," Sabal bowed to Estella.

"Are you feeling steady?" Estella asked, a look of worry crossing her face.

"Not really," Sabal admitted, rubbing his tempers with the heels of his hands, "I'm feeling a little dizzy. If you can just give me a few minutes to recover by going first?"

"Sure," Estella nodded and turned to Marmaduke. The automaton would have blinked if he had the ability as Estella swarmed up him with the agility of a squirrel, perching on his shoulders for a moment before launching herself at the lip of the pit.

"There you go," Thorian smiled as he held out a hand to help her swing the last distance to set her feet away from the edge of the pit.

"Thank you kind Sir," Estella smiled.

"Well here goes," Kaelin muttered, spreading her wings in the cramped space. A leap, a rush, a down beat and she soared over the rest of them, nearly brushing the roof of the tunnel with the top of her head. She landed neatly and shook out her feathers before folding them with a rustle.

Behind her there was a grunt and then the battering noise like the frantic clapping of someone trying to slap ants off their skin and Nanny Tatters lurched up from the pit, wobbling and swerving in the air before thumping down at the feet of her master. Jeremiah frowned as he frowned down at her, trying to decide whether or not her irregular flight was a disobedience or a sign that he had imprinted his will on her mind hard enough that she was now unwilling to have any great distance between them even when he hadn't specifically stated that she was to keep up with him.

Sabal looked up and then looked around to see who was left with him in the pit. Realizing that it was only Jeremiah's collection of undead abominations and the giant crab he uttered a little squeak and dashed over to Marmaduke, his dizzy spell forgotten and he launched himself at the edge of the pit with the automaton's help, Thorian catching his wrists and helping him make the last step.

"Thank you," Sabal muttered, "Those things just..." He shuddered, looking back down at the glowing eyes looking back up at him. He shuddered again and turned away, limping over to where his kin had clustered around Ulrich.

"Well?" Jeremiah called down with a frown, "Just what are you waiting for? Get up here where you can be useful!"

The vigor, still carrying the pack on its head, stumped over to the wall of the pit. It stepped laboriously up the pile of rubble it had chosen but when it came up against the flat wall of the pit it halted, up turned nose pressed to the stone. Jeremiah watched it for a moment and then closed his eyes as he counted to ten. That was the number of times he debated the choice between keeping it so it could carry his property or de-animating it and having to carry the pack himself again.

"You!" he snapped, pointing at one of the undead Ash Elves, "Toss that up here." He indicated the vigor.

The puppet stepped forward and seized the vigor in both hands. The vigor landed with a plop on the original floor of the tunnel. It sat for a moment, blinking its dull eyes and then it stood up and stumped over to stand beside Jeremiah. Jeremiah ignored it in favor of his favorite hobby of scolding someone.

"Well?"  he asked, looking down on his last two minions, "Are you going to get up here so that you can be proper servants to your master or doing you intend to remain down there for the rest of the year, slowly rotting into a useless pile of mush?"

They looked up at him, slack jawed and vacant eyed. Jeremiah's eyes narrowed and his fist clenched as he considered whether to just dispose of them. They didn't seem to have the quality of Nanny Tatters and part of him wondered why he had bothered to collect them.

The one at his feet bowed its head and reached out its hands, gripping on to the rock face in front of it and slowly dragging itself up the vertical stone, its movements jerky but effective as it crawled up the short cliff. Jeremiah stepped aside as it slithered its way over the edge to lay at his feet. It was at least an appropriate place for it. He glared down at the other one that was only just beginning to totter its way towards the wall. It was also scratching at its arms. Jeremiah's eyes narrowed again and then he lifted a hand.

The Ash Elf puppet still down in the pit fall forward on to its face, spasmed a coupe of times and then lay still. The stream of blue power leaked from it mouth and coiled back up through the air to pool in Jeremiah's eyes and sink in. He flinched slightly and blinked almost as if the power have stung slightly this time, which was a new sensation for him. Usually it brought within a tingle of pleasure but this time it had a painful undertone. He frowned down at his discarded puppet, wondering if the 'defense' of the pottery golems had managed to infect it but then he turned his back and started walking away.

The living Ash Elves watched him, furtively arching their fingers at him to ward off evil, before glancing at the pit themselves.

"You don't think that it could be..." Tasnar asked in their language of gestures and micro-expressions.

"It could," Quenril replied, "But if it is we will just have to deal with it as and when it tracks us down."

"Us or him?" Sabal observed, "And if it is him, why should we interfere?"

 Quenril thought about it for a moment.

"That might actually be the way to deal with him," he admitted.

"Except that if he wins then he will punish us for refusing to help him," Tasnar warned.

"Unless it is a battle," Sabal almost smiled, "If it is a battle then we will be too busy guarding the Matriarch's Chosen to be guarding him from his own folly."

Quenril thought about it again.

"We can but pray," he concluded. The other two smiled for real then.

"Alright Weatherall, old bean," Ulrich called down, "Time to get yourself up and out of there."

The giant crab bruxed his mouth parts again,picking something out of the rubble and feeding it into that grinding organic mechanism, mulling over how he was supposed to 'get himself up and out of there'. 

"That's something," Estella noted, "Crabs walk sideways, so how do they see where they are going?"

"What?" Kaelin asked, frowning at her. More puzzling to her than the question was the fact that Estella had been able to think of it at all. Kaelin didn't question what was, it was therefore you dealt with it, you didn't ask way it was. Asking why it was distracted you from the important stuff like staying alive, biting the enemy first ad finding the next prey item you could hunt and eat without getting gorged yourself. You didn't ask why the enemy was the enemy, you just made sure that you got the first bite in and made it count. Kaelin wondered how come Estella could have gone through all the crud she had gone through and still think of something beyond the fact that they needed to survive until tomorrow.

 Down in the hole Weatherall tested the sides of the pit with his claws. He then marched to the end closest to Ulrich, pushing Marmaduke out of the way and tried to walk up the wall but stopped part way up and bruxed his mouth again. He returned to the level and then, after a moment's thought turned as much as it was possible for him to do in the pit.

A spear like foot reached up and jabbed at the wall of the pit. A leg on the other side of his shell probed the rock wall there as well. Slowly, carefully, Weatherall lifted himself clear of the pit, walking up the walls, pointed feet/legs finding cracks and crevasses and almost non existent shelves to work his way ever higher, his belly hanging over nothing until he reached the tunnel level. Then it was a slow shuffle of using the motion that he habitually used at speed to switch direction to gradually work his way forward until he was clear of the pit and safely back over, apparently, solid ground.

Thorian cheered and Estella clapped. Weatherall twitched his eye stalks but didn't appear to have any reaction beyond that.

"Good boy," Ulrich congratulated, patting and rubbing Westherall's shell, "Now do you think you could give me a hand to get Marmaduke up and out of there?"

Weatherall waggled his eye stalks but apparently saw that his Master was not joking. Peter whistled with amusement. Weatherall slowly uncurled a claw and held the mighty pincer out over the pit.

"Down a little, down a little," Ulrich instructed, tapping that arm, guiding it lower. Unfortunately, crabs are not known for being overly flexible so there was only so low Weatherall ould go. Peter hissed with almost spiteful amusement.

"If that is how you feel," Ulrich stepped off him, "You can get down there and push Marmaduke from below." Peter squeaked, looking round at Ulrich, waggling his antennae at him. "I'm not kidding," Ulrich folded his arms, "If that is how you feel then you can get down there and push him from below." Peter hummed but Ulrich was implacable. Sighing, the giant centipede trundled over the edge of the pit and got into position behind Marmaduke. The automaton's head rotated round as smoothly as a greased wheel to look at Peter behind him. The giant centipede wheezed as if to say that this was not his idea either and to not look at him for answers.

"Right Marmaduke," Ulrich called down, "You're going to have to jump and grab Weatherall's claw. Peter you're going to have to give him a shove from below. Ready?" Marmaduke's head swiveled back round to face his master. "Right, on the count of three. One. Two. Three!"

Marmaduke jumped, grabbed Weatherall's claw... Weatherall ground a growl from his belly as he began tilting sideways. Ulrich grabbed Weatherall at the same moment that Peter rammed his head up underneath Marmaduke's foot. Peter whistled and squealed in protest as his neck bunched and then he was digging all his feet in and pushing with all his might while top side Ulrich pushed down on Weatherall's higher end until all of Weatherall's feet were back on the floor, then dashed forward to seize Marmaduke's wrist and help pull him up and over the edge. Peter came rippling after, not quite suppressing his opinions about these two hard shelled lead weights, not quite.

"Well," Ulrich dusted off his hands and turned to the others, "I think that is all of us out of that little hick up. Shall we be pressing on?"

"I think someone already is," Kaelin said wryly, gesturing to where the sickly yellow light of Jeremiah's sigil was disappearing down the tunnel, Gerard, his moth, crawling up and down the cage of Jeremiah's antlers, trying to get comfortable now that he no longer had the miter to ride around on.

"It is usually me who separates the team," Ulrich observed.

"Shall we allow the... large one to continue his decision to leave our squad?" Quenril's words were deceptively mild, his expression bland. Kaelin frowned and started checking through her pack.

"That is an option, that is certainly an option," Ulrich agreed.

"Aye wouldn't be sorry," Thorian muttered, "He can take his creepy pets away any day of the week."

 "We're running out of light sticks," Kaelin noted, "We lost a lot of them getting doused in that lake and it doesn't look like the goturi thought to provide us with more."

"Ah, that's a problem," Ulrich noted. Thorian scratched his ear.

"Why is that a problem?" he asked.

"Well unless you can produce fireballs from your butt," Kaelin noted, "At this rate Jeremiah is going to be the only one with a light source. I don't like that flaming squiggle any more than you but if we don't follow him then  I don't like our chances of getting out of here any time this century."

"Move it out team," Ulrich swung on to Peter's back, giving a nod to Sabal and Tasnar to ride on Weatherall to let them have a little more recovery time. They hurried down the tunnel, following the drifting noxious light that showed where Jeremiah led the way.

When the light very nearly disappeared on them, they broke into a run. Left, right, right again.

"Do yah think he has any idea of where he's going?" Thorian panted as he thumped along.

"Probably not," Quenril grunted. After that they didn't have the breath to talk any more. As it was they very nearly ran passed him in the twists and turns of the way. Estella saved them. She had been falling and falling behind as she struggled to match her pace up to the one set by the longer legs of the others.

"Need to do some more running training," she gasped to herself as she pushed harder.

"Might not be a bad idea," her passenger acknowledged, "But for now would you like me to..."

"Wait!" Estella snapped, catching the light of something out of the corner of her eye. She stumbled to a halt and then back pedaled.

"Guys!" she roared down the tunnel, "Stop that right now!"

The rest of the King's Special pulled up almost too fast, stumbling and bumping as the shades of various mother figures jumped up out of the past and snapped in that oh so special voice that only mothers have. The light stick in Ulrich's hand actually trembled slightly and the hair was growing along Kaelin's arms even as she stifled a sob. That voice, that tone, that whip crack of command. Kaelin bit her lip. She's had a mother. That lash of instant, instinctive obedience that shook through her, some where, some how, she'd had a mother and that was a confirmation that she had needed for longer than she wanted to admit to.

"He's down here," Estella informed them with a wry roll of her eyes before turning into the tunnel on her right.

Jeremiah sat on a block of stone where the tunnel widened out, munching contentedly on a cheese sandwich, while Nanny Tatters coiled at his feet, his vigor pack barer and his Ash Elf puppet slouching off to one side.

"Thank you for waiting for us to catch up," Estella said, calm wryness lacing through her words, an almost sarcastic edge hovering in the bad ground of her tone.

"Oh were you lagging behind?" Jeremiah asked, looking up from his food, "Now wasn't that a silly thing to do. Really all you had to do was ask me to slow down a little."

"Seeing as you were already trying to disappear over the horizon sending you that request would have been a little... difficult," Estella raised an eyebrow as the rest of the King's Special finally caught up.

"Well, if you will insist on stopping to give the less able of the party unreasonable accommodations who am I to prevent your folly?" Jeremiah smiled, "As I have said before, you are young and that youth interferes with the choices you make. You still live by the idea that everyone deserves an equal shot at life, which is the biggest disservice we give to children."

"Oh indeed?" Estella's plain expression didn't change.

"Of course," Jeremiah still smiled, "We teach them that empathy and compassion are virtues before we teach them how to discern who is worthy of such things and who is not. It is no wonder that youth wastes its time trying to look after those who don't earn and will never be able to earn their place in society rather than disposing of them the way nature intends them to be disposed of."

"So compassion is a flaw?" Estella raised an eyebrow.

"Only when it is given to the wrong ones," Jeremiah took another bite out of his sandwich.

"You keep forgetting that I have already been betrayed by creatures of flesh," Estella's gaze didn't waver, "Marmaduke is metal, metal does not betray so easily."

"Well since we have a spot here shall we stop for lunch?" Ulrich asked, trying to break the tension mounting in the air.

"I'd say that is an excellent idea," Estella turned away from Jeremiah.

Kaelin kept sniffing as she nibbled on her bread, her ears flicking to and fro as well. Thorian was also frowning.

"What is troubling you, oh great and mighty Thorian Vandervast?" Jeremiah said, "What is causing your to try and withstand the pain of trying to think of something?"

"Can you hear that whispering as well?" Thorian asked Kaelin rather than waste his time talking to Jeremiah.

"Yes," Kaelin hazarded, "But its not voices talking." She frowned some more. "There is definitely something echoing down the tunnels but it is not people babble." She tilted her head that way.

"Should we avoid it?" Ulrich asked.

"No," Kaelin hazarded, "If it is what I think it is then we need to check it out."

"Oh, is it something that you can steal dear Kaelin?" Jeremiah asked.

"No but maybe we'll be able to baptize you," Kaelin replied, her voice a weird echo of Estella's earlier wry tone. Estella looked at her and then held up her hand flat. After a moment Kaelin clapped her palm against Estella's. She didn't quite smile but it was enough.

After a while, they packed up their stuff and headed off deeper into the tunnel Jeremiah had found. It certainly appeared to be wider and taller than the ways that they had been following for so long.

Even so, the expansion caught them all off guard, the ceiling suddenly soaring height and the walls disappearing off into the distance. They stopped in awe. It was vast. Whether it was true or not, it appeared bigger than even the cavern of Endingborough, the scent of deep time breathing through the chill. The sound of whispering had become a muted babbling.

"Are those rain clouds up there?" Estella whispered, staring at the ceiling.

"My dear Estella, surely you know the difference between a roof of stone and the sky above?" Jeremiah asked, "Clouds belong in the sky,  not underground.

"Well I'd like to know what you'd either call that, or what you did with your eyes," Ulrich noted, "Because if that isn't at least some form of water based weather then I am the heir apparent of my father's estates!"

High, high, almost impossibly high above their heads, vapor plumes drifted across the ceiling, rippling and coiling to the invisible dance of air currents in the cool damp of the caves breath.

"You realize that nobody has seen this for possibly hundreds of years," Tasnar breathed, "The Begetters are amazing."

"Now there is an idea," Ulrich nodded, the caverns size and gloom making him feel small and insignificant.

"That depends," Jeremiah called, running his hand along the rail of the wall that edged the left hand side of the path ahead.

"Good grief," Ulrich exclaimed, "We are getting back to civilization after all."

"Maybe," Quenril frowned, peering at the carvings on the low wall beside the path. A long, lithe animal with short legs twisted and danced across the stone work, its little whisk of a tail curving behind it, "I don't recognize this insignia at all."

Sabal slid with a wince off of Weatherall's shell and limped over to have a look.

"Vaesel," he stated, "The clan vanished three thousand years ago as the last matriarch had no direct female descendant to inherit the Matriarchy. We must be in a very old territory, the archives were vague about where their clan borders were located. We had estimations due to where the current clan boarders are located but nothing concrete.

"Still we must be closer to the surface than when we left the realm of the dwergs," Ulrich observed, suppressing that his mind was still trying to understand that the Ash Elves had a recorded history that stretched back at least three thousand years.

"That is true," Quenril straightened and peered further into the depths of the cavern, "We must also be fairly close to one of the clans main structures. It is unlikely that there will be anything edible left, although some of the mushroom gardens may have survived but it will still give us a more secure sleeping place tonight."

"That and there might be a few light sticks hidden away," Kaelin observed, hitching her backpack slightly higher, "Well we are not getting any closer standing around here gassing. Come on feet." She set out along the path. Ulrich followed along behind the rest of them, having an earnest discussion with Peter, who was hissing and grousing as he trundled along, antennae waving over the floor as Ulrich rode on his back.

"Yes I know that you don't really like them," Ulrich was saying. Peter hissed.

"Be that as it may," Ulrich continued, "It would have been a lot harder for you to carry two passengers at once than it is for Weatherall." Peter whistled and hissed a longer note of disagreement.

"I know I could have asked but I also know that having to hack our way through every enemy we face does put more of us in danger, you do remember Estella nearly getting scissored in half by one of those crabs?" Ulrich asked. Peter hissed what was most obviously a 'so?'

"Well say I hadn't tamed Weatherall and you and Marmaduke hadn't managed to kill him before he got to Estella and snipped off her head," Ulrich explained, "Would you want to be Valodrael's next host?" Peter whistled a puzzled sort of whistle, then Estella turned so she was walking backwards, grinning at Peter as her eyes turned black and the oil like tears trailed down her face. Peter froze and then gave a short, one note whistle. Estella smiled more normally and spun round to walk beside Kaelin, appearing to be her little sister. She didn't say anything but Kaelin looked at her a moment. Estella looked back and Kaelin just shrugged, not saying she could but not pushing her away either.

Peter trundled on, not whistling anything else for the time being.

They pushed on into the dark, the light from the sputtering glow stick and Jeremiah's rotten sigil pushing the gloom back and making their shadows loom large against the drifting eddies of steam. The babbling had become an only slightly muted roaring, echoing and drumming in the air and punctuated by wet plops as large droplets fell from the ceiling to splat upon the floor, their shoulders and their heads.

"I never thought I'd need an umbrella underground," Jeremiah said sourly.

"Well you learn something new," Kaelin said levelly, then frowned as she spotted something up ahead. The low wall opened up for a space and the way branched, the right way curving further round in that direction, staying at the level that they had been walking on for a while with maybe a slight upward gradient while the left slopped steeply down towards the sound of thundering water.

"People," Ulrich called, "I know we were told to follow the water but that sounds like the sort of flood that could raise at any time and sweep us straight back to where we just came from. The journey has been interesting but I for one would like to get home to my fair lady sometime this year."

"My dear Ulrich," Jeremiah smiled slightly as they swung on to the right hand track, "I never put you down as the marrying type."

"Neither did I old bean," Ulrich replied cheerfully, "But I'm beginning to feel a hankering for the sun and some to see whether or not there is anything left that we can save up there. We might not have been the heroes when we got sent on this crazy ride but like it or not we kind have the fate of the world riding on us now. That Kaelin is running short on time to get this whole forfeit business sorted and it would solve a lot of our problems if we help her get it finished."

"Yeah," Thorian nodded as they plodded along, "I don't like her old man. Aye know you're not supposed to think on that afore you met someone... but aye don't like him."

"King might even decide to stand us down from active service after all of this," Kaelin grunted as they plodded along, "Then you two get to go and make that bath house thing, Estella gets to go back to searching for whatever it is she's after and Jeremiah..." She thought about it.

"Jeremiah gets to go back to being as creepy as..." Estella tried not to laugh.

"We get the point," said priest interrupted, "We do not need your opinion stated in such crude manners."

Estella sniggered into her sleeve and she wasn't the only one, not only was he passenger rumbling his amusement but the rest of the King's Special was doing their best to not let Jeremiah know how amusing they found that. It was good but it wasn't worth getting Estella in trouble later.

They continued trudging up hill the voice of the river rising and falling below them. The low wall rose in height slightly and the voice of the river suddenly became a lot louder. Thorian didn't notice busy thinking about what he'd be doing once they made it back to the surface and the King said that they were free to go. He did consider going back to traveling but there was always the risk of someone else taking his clumsiness the wrong way and then he'd be in trouble again. Working with Ulrich on that bath house thing bug think though. It did occur to him that Ulrich would need to have it built as well and that meant lots of bricks and stones and stuff being lugged about. Thorian was good at lugging things about, he'd learnt that working in the dwerg's workshop. He was good at it and he enjoyed it. It felt good to use his big muscles to do something that made something build up and not wind up all deaded. He liked the idea of doing it more.

Kaelin turned her ears and then turned her head.

"How old you reckon this bridge to be," she asked.

"Do not worry yourself," Tasnar said, "Our setting stone becomes stronger the longer it stands, especially in a place this mineral rich."

"Mineral rich?" Ulrich asked.

"Setting stone?" Kaelin raised her eyebrows.

"Can't you taste it?" Tasnar counter asked, "The water in the air here tastes of minerals, you can almost smell them." He closed his eyes a moment. "Bone dust, that comes from limestone. Grit, that comes from sandstone. Salt, that will be from a pink salt deposit so we must be near the mountains. And metal, that will be from some ore deposits. We are definitely closer to the surface than we have been for quite some time."

"At last," Kaelin almost gave a sigh of relief. She wanted to be she didn't, she knew enough to know that they could still lose out before they made it if they dropped their guard.

"As for the setting stone, it is a material we create for a recipe that the Begetters gave us before they were cast down," Tasnar informed them, "And as I said it gets stronger the longer it has been set, rather than weakening and falling apart."

Kaelin looked back at the bridge as the roar of the river turned down a knotch.

"If any of you know it, you'll made a fortune top side," she noted, "There are kings that would pay you for the knowledge of such a building material."

"Really?" Tasnar blinked, shifting his leg on the back of Weatherall's shell.

"She's right," Ulrich confirmed, "We don't have anything like that in the world on the surface so if you have the recipe for a building material that gets stronger rather than weaker then you could make quite a lot of money. Sounds like you can make a far go of adapting to the world above."

"It is certainly something that we will have to consider," Quenril nodded, "Our sister seems to have chosen wisely when she..."

"Hold on chaps," Ulrich jockeyed Peter out in front and held up a fist, bringing the party to a stop, "There's something up ahead."

They peered through the gloom and the swirls of mist.

The bulky out line of a building loomed at the side of the road, its sinuous curves and flying buttresses revealing that it was Ash Elf in origin, even if the heavy lifting had been done by slaves. However, it looked well and truly battered. Time had not been kind to this one, despite what Tasnar claimed about the building material of the Ash Elves. Still it did point to the fact that this had at one point been a major route in the Underworld, so there was hope that at the end of it there was a citadel and possibly at least more secure sleeping arrangements for the next rest stop, if not some other supplies they could scrounge. 

Ulrich swung off Peter's back.

"Stay here," he muttered and crouched, sidling up close to the low wall, creeping closer. The Ash Elves had a micro second of one of their silent conversations and then Quenril crouched and followed him. The rest of the King's Special looked at each other, looked at Ulrich and Quenril and then started to slowly follow, slowly.

As Ulrich crept closer, carefully set his feet one at a time he realized that he first assumption was wrong, it wasn't a gate house, it was much larger. This was an out right base of operations, a block house, designed to house a garrison ready to defend this route to the clans holdings. It was also not time that had ruined it. The front of it gaped in ruin because something had smashed in the front of the building and collapsed it into a pile of rubble and broken stone. The shell of the building still stood but that was it, the rest was a gutted ruin.

Ulrich looked back and saw Quenril not far behind him. He waved Quenril up to his shoulder.

"Do your people, the clans have siege weapons?" he asked in a whisper, "Something like a trebuchet?"

"A... I..." Quenril struggled.

"Obviously not," Ulrich nodded, "No worries, you answered my question and I'm not blaming you for not knowing about something your clans have not had the need to invent. Come on, I want to know what caused that before we go walking on it to its territory."

Quenril opened his mouth to protest but Ulrich was already slowly climbing up the pile of rubble. With a sigh and a shake of the head he followed. Behind them the King's Special paced after them but if anything their pace slowed down even more, not wanting to go further than the outer most edges of the rubble.

 Ulrich climbed on all fours, carefully placing his feet and hands, keeping low to the rubble as he made his way up the slope. The air here moved with a rhythmic pace and the streamers of mist moved like the waves upon a shore, drifting towards the gutted building and then blowing back again before drifting back towards the ruined black house again. He paused as he saw that the building hadn't just been gutted. Whatever had wrecked the building had continued, clawing back into the cliff the building had been constructed against to create a jagged tunnel mouth that gaped hungrily at him.

Back with the rest of the King's Special Kaelin unslung Haggis, fiddling with the blow stick, thoroughly tempted to use the bagpipes and give Ulrich the fright of his life.

"To use the bagpipes," she murmured, "To not use the bagpipes. To use the bagpipes. To not use the bagpipes."

Ulrich started moving again, wriggling a little higher until he could cautiously, very cautiously lift his head over the breech and peer into the inky darkness of that massive hole.

His mouth went dry as he realized why the mist eddies had such a rhythmic pace - something was snoring in the dark. Something huge, something that's breath rumbled through the air was snoring inside that massive hole. His hair stirred in the breeze and he smelt hot dust and hot metal on the breeze.

"Oh dear," he said slowly and quietly. He rolled over and started wiggling back down the heap of rubble. His foot knocked against something not stone. Ulrich's eyes widened as he saw the plug of metal. It was the distorted, warped remains of an Ash Elf's suit of armor, crushed and crumpled together into a fist like lump the size of Ulrich's torso and scoured clean by an acid bath that had dissolved the bones of whoever had been wearing that metal protection last. Ulrich shuffled sideways and slid further down the heap, waving Quenril back.

Thorian sighed as he waited for them to get back. It was dull around here, it was beastly, beastly deadly dull. Brownish rocks, brownish road, brownish ceiling. He could have sworn that even the air was brown.

"I spy with my little eye something beginning with bee," he stated.

Estella looked about.

"Boots," she stated.

"No," Thorian shook his head.

"Um," she rubbed her chin, "Um. Um. Bags."

"Nope," Thorian started to smile.

"Um," she frowned, "Um. Barracks?"

 "Uh-nah," Thorian smiled wider as he shook his head again.

"Um," Esetlla frowned deeper, "Um." She strained, staring round as Ulrich and Quenril scrambled down the pile of rubble, half in a hurry, half trying to be silent.

"Blocks?" Estella hazarded.

"Guess again!" Thorian was grinning now.

"Um," Estella scratched her head, "Um. Ummmmmmmm..."

"Company!" Kaelin yelled.

"Come-pan-knee?" Thorian said, "Come-pan-knee doesn't start with bee."

"No!" Kaelin snapped, pointing up the wall to their right, "Company!"

"So you finally noticed," Jeremiah leaned on the low wall, cleaning his nails, "I wondered if you ever would."

The right hand wall was not solid all the way to the ceiling. About thirty feet up it shelved back to form a recessed cave and apparently somewhere in its unseen back wall there was another tunnel entrance because someone was stood on the cliff edge, glaring down at them.

The person in question was most definitely an Ash Elf but not from a clan that the King's Special any contact with before. However, their Ash Elf allies obviously knew something about the one standing up there, Sabal and Tasnar drawing their swords with a steely whisper crush injuries forgotten, faces dark with hatred.

"Accursed and condemned! You dare crawl out of your hole!" Sabal spat and backed it up with something in the Ash Elf tongue that sounded utterly foul.

If it was meant to discombobulate the Ash Elf standing on the cliff it didn't work as his lips twisted in a grotesque smile below a nose that had been savagely re-sculpted to resemble the nostrils of a skull.

Kaelin looked at him and then looked at Jeremiah's vigor pack bearer as it stood bowed below its burden. It was strange how something's eyes could be glowing and dull at the same time. It was also strange how the brain could decide to notice these things at precisely the moment that it should be concentrating on something more important.

The Ash Elf grinned and hefted a globe of a pinkish purple gas that swirled and eddied. He leaned back and threw it, a massive over hand throw that he put his whole back into with a grunt.

Ulrich looked up and saw the spinning globe arching towards the pile of rubble. He didn't have a darn clue what it was but he could guess that it wasn't going to be sunshine and rainbows when it hit. He threw himself to his feet and lunged, throwing himself head first down the rubble heap, rolling in midair so he crash landed on his back, sliding in a cascade of smallish stones and armor pellets but the globe smacked home between his hands, cushioned on his chest.

Ulrich saw a star burst as the top of his skull smacked into a rock too large to be moved by the mini avalanche he'd set off but he grinned foolishly as Thorian cheered, rubbing the top of his head with one hand while Quenril helped him sit up, the other hand clutching the orb of glass.

"Eat that, Bat Nose!" Kaelin yelled up at the one who had thrown it. He glared but then grinned and shrugged. Cupping his hands around his mouth he yelled.

"Hey Tikrumpdel! You have visitors! The thieves have come for your hoard again!"

Something in the dark grunted. It snorted. It growled.

Quenril dispensed with trying to be quiet, hauling Ulrich to his feet and throwing them both down the scree slope, holding his sister's favorite on his feet as they turned tail and bolted down the slope, scrambling and stumbling and staggering. Behind them the sounds of huge feet and hands slapping rock echoed out of the gaping, ragged tunnel mouth that had been clawed through the block house. The sound of something huge and soft being dragged across the floor slithered to them.

"Get out!" a massive voice roared, "Get out! Nasty, filthy, pesky little thieves! Get out!"

The glowing, sunset hued eyes and long snout of a massive red dragon jutted out of the tunnels gaping maw as Ulrich and Quenril stumbled to the bottom of the rubble slope.

"You hear me!?!" the dragon roared again, lunging further out of his home, "I said..." He got stuck. He grunted. He wriggled. He heaved.

Part of the cave wall gave way and crushed down, bouncing off his many chins and jowls as he growled and hauled his bulk through the gap.

"Ruddy door!" he grumbled, "Swear the damn thing keeps getting smaller."

 Ulrich and Quenril backed up snappish as the dragons massive paunch slithered down the slop, hissing over the rumble like surf over a shore.

"Just why can't you leave me alone to sleep?" the dragon bellowed, glaring down at them, his dragon wings, looking ridiculously small on his back flapping impotently. There was no way this big boy was ever going to be getting off the ground.

Thorian backed up, nodding to himself. He'd seen a big, old beastie washed up on the shore of the northern mountain chain when he was wandering up in that area. The locals had called it a blahval and finding it had caused a week long feast. It had looked like every long house in his clans village all piled up together with maybe a few extra just for good measure. This huge dragon looked like to be the same size as that only his was scaly and red, well mostly red.

Peter darted forward to catch Ulrich as he stumbled and nearly feel backwards as another avalanche rattled down the scree slope as a bow was to the dragon's massive girth, Peter's head catching in the small of Ulrich's back, propping him up as the stones went rattling passed his feet.

"Forgive us, oh mighty and wonderful Lord of the Mountain halls," Ulrich bowed to dragon as it took one lumbering step forward, "It was not our intent to disturb your most valuable and necessary sleep. We had no intention of stealing from you hoard, though undoubtedly it is the grandest and most impressive in the land. We merely wished to look upon your great majesty and know that our lives had been blessed by the wonder of your presence."

The dragon narrowed his piggy little eyes, snorting.

Kaelin pocked Haggis' blow stick into her mouth and blew slowly, trying to make the droning take a quieter volume than Haggis usually managed, to moderate the blast of his expression so that the dragon wouldn't notice what she was doing so much. The tune she managed was more soothing and relaxing than she usually employed, speaking of quiet glens and rippling brooks under the sunlight shining down on a warm afternoon.

The dragon turned his head to glare out of them out of one eye.

"Alright," he grunted, scratching behind a horn with a wing claw, "Say I believe you, runtlet. If you aren't the ones who were after my hoard, then who was?"

"I'm not sure anyone was," Ulrich bowed again, "We had only just approached your doorstep when a member of the Ash Elf community, not these here, these are our friends and allies, this one was stood up there on the cliff edge and shouted those words, meaning to get us in trouble." He pointed at the cliff edge. The massive rolly polly dragon turned his head to scan the cliff edge.

"The blighter threw this at us to try and wake you," Ulrich held up the globe thing in both hands. The dragon stretched forth his neck to sniff at the thing. Ulrich fought down the urge to scream in terror as that massive mouth approached. It looked like he could fit not only his head but his entire torso up one of those nostrils and he was fairly sure that he could see flickering of the well banked fire in the beast's throat as the tongue, as broad as a slab of marble flicked out to taste its way across the globes surface.

"There is the scent of Ash Elf on there," the dragon smacked his lips, "But what says that it wasn't one of these friends of yours?"

Kaelin let the blow stick fall from her mouth. This thing was too big, its mind to vast for her skills to control, she was out matched, out skilled and out numbered.  Her feet started carrying her backwards. She tried to catch the eyes of the rest of the King's Special. Ulrich, the dumb lump, was still stood there chin wagging at the huge thing as if he could talk this down and while he stood there his Ash Elf buddies and his pets wouldn't run away. He never thought about the fact that he was leading other people into danger these days. Thorian didn't seem to realize that one breath from this thing could erase him of the map and she supposed that Estella was trusting Valodrael to keep her safe. Jeremiah was the furthest back and was grinning that not nice grin. It was easy to see that he was looking forward to the rest of the King's Special becoming just a greasy smear on this thing's chops. That was it Kaelin was out of here. She turned on her heels and left, dog trotting back down the path. She'd try following the water upstream and see if she could get out of this place by herself.

"Great one!" Quenril went down on one knee before the dragon, "Tikrumpdel the Mighty! King of the Skies! We of the Underworld have always respected your legend though we did not know for sure where your territory was. If we had any knowledge that you were here, we would have found another way to the surface. The one that woke you was of the Bat Clan and not of our kinship."

The dragon, Tikrumpdel, ground his massive belly against the ground, scratching an itch as he thought.

"The Bat Clan were banished from the Underworld some years ago for creating something they shouldn't have done," Ulrich explained, "They have been causing all sorts of problems ever since, trying to extract their revenge on the Clans that drove them out for their terrible lack of judgement. Waking you to try and use you as their unpaid assassin to destroy us has just been the newest attempt to destabilize the Underworld and the Overworld in one fell swoop."

Tikrumpdel scratched an itch on his chest, the rolls of his blubber rippling with the tug and pull of it, then sniffed.

"Why you?" he asked, "Why would they want to destroy you?"

"Because we have been challenging their destruction of the Ash Elf clans," Ulrich explained, "We have been teaching the survivors that they don't have to look down on all others to be Ash Elves. That there is a different way of being than hate. That they could be strong enough to beat the Bat Clan and their unnatural creations if they are willing to leave hate at the way side and look at others as if we might have value. The Bat Clan just want to destroy and if that means that they face extinction then they call it a worthy price to pay to see their enemies dead."

Ulrich wouldn't have minded admitting that he was sweating under his collar, facing down something this old, this large. Tikrumpdel looked like he had laid waste to entire countries and then eaten them. Or eaten them and then laid waste to the gristly bits. Or just laid on entire countries. He was also aware that he was trying to manipulate a dragon, the same way Jeremiah was often trying to manipulate the King's Special. That one was the most horrifying. The fact that he was acting like Jeremiah. He had an awful, bubbling feeling in his gut that Jeremiah's god might try to claim him.

He closed his eyes as Tikrumpdel leaned forward to have enough sniff. He had never much believed in the gods, their holy books so full of contradictions and counter arguments that it had appeared to him that trying to believe every word out of a holy book was a sure fire way to drive yourself insane but right now he really did want to know to whom to pray. He fought the urge to whimper as a thread of purple unlight crossed inside his eyelids.

He made a pledge to himself there and then that if he survived this then he was going to start asking the Ash Elves about their pantheon and whether or not they had any rebel gods or goddesses because among the Ash Elves a rebel god would be one who cared about both their people and other people, a god that encouraged compassion and empathy. Right now he really needed the protection of a god like that to fight for his soul.

Thorian sniffed and stepped up beside Ulrich. He wasn't sure whether this dragon was thinking of eating Ulrich or not but Ulrich was Thorian's friend so if this dragon was thinking of eating Ulrich Thorian would have some bad words to say to it.

Jeremiah tugged his beard as he watching Ulrich's efforts to talk the dragon down from just devouring them on the spot. Jeremiah was fairly sure that he recognized the name Tikrumpdel from his studies back that the monastery and if the beast before them was the same creature then Ulrich might actually have a chance of managing it. Granted this beast was turning black with age and was gross with year of gluttony and laziness but the fact that he had spoken and asked questions, rather than just flaming them all to death, meant that it could well be that this was the Tikrumpdel spoken of in the Draconnic Encyclopedia. He had at one time been known as the King of the Northern Skies and had many mutually beneficial contracts with the smaller races. Some even considered him the 'father' of the hybrid species that were of more friendly disposition to the smaller races. He had lost his crown to a consortium of younger, more aggressive dragons but if this was Tikrumpdel then the legends of him still drawing breath were true. Granted the hope that he was one day come storming back to power seemed to be... some what... ill founded.

Still this could be an interesting development. Jeremiah decided to stay and watch Ulrich's efforts.