Hadvar's Razor
“Anything worthwhile is never easy.” Snake said as he admired his nails.
“We could have been done already if you could swing a pick.” The Nord muttered to himself as he swung the pickaxe.
“If I could mine efficiently, why in the nine hells would I solicit such barbarous assistance?” Snake asked. Hadvar stopped momentarily and shot a wary look at the other person. The aristocrat stood away from the mountain face and tried to pretend he did not lean heavily on his cane for support; his long dark hair and matching cape snapped in the mountain valley gust. As Hadvar briefly made eye contact with Snake, the noble’s gaze bored into him. The large man shivered.
“I’m not paying you to admire me.” Snake quipped with a smug grin. Hadvar hacked into the mountain with a scowl. If he didn’t need this outcast aristocrat’s money so badly, he would have gladly been anywhere else. However, when his family’s farm was razed in the war, it left him with few options. He could not turn down the amount of gold that Snake had offered. The Norseman had become an apprentice at the local Miner’s Guild, he worked hard but the pay was poor. While he still needed to learn the finer aspects of mining, his experience as a mercenary left him well suited to this type of work. His cultivated skill of wielding large war hammers in combat transferred easily to swinging a mining pick. Brute strength made good progress into the mountainside, despite the lack of finesse.
Hadvar understood why Snake was so desperate. The veteran prospectors from the guild had refused to help him. They explained there was nothing of worth in the area that the noble was pursuing. A few of the younger miners also claimed that nothing good would ever come from that mountain, as it was a ghastly place. Personally, he suspected they refused Snake because of his surly attitude. The highborn was quick to flaunt his lineage and make demands. Unfortunately for him, the residents of the small mining town in the shadow of a haunted mountain were only too glad to spurn an entitled snob. The local Mining Guild Chief even put an embargo on House Goulto, which Snake claimed to be a member of. The noble would not be able to mine the area even if he found a prospector willing to work for him, at least not without significant consequences for himself and the miner.
Hadvar mulled over how Snake happened to find him in the White Wolf afterwards. The Nord watched as he limped straight to the Norseman’s shady table in the corner, the sound of his cane tapped with every other step before he seated himself, uninvited.
“That seat’s taken.” Hadvar said, as Snake shouted for a mead for himself and a fresh drink for the miner.
“Yes, by me.” Snake lowered his voice and cleared his throat.
“Go bury your head.” The Norseman drained his glass of mead and scowled. There was a solid whump as the noble dropped a sack of gold on the table in dramatic fashion.
“Half up front.” Snake watched the big man’s eyes light with avarice. A grin spread across his own features. Schemes came easily to him; he knew a perfect angle existed for every man, with gold being the most common. A fresh mead clunked onto the table which crowded the small wooden surface.
“I ordered two you simpleton, have you not learned your numbers?” The noble sniggered. When the server didn’t automatically withdraw to fetch another drink, Snake turned to find the grisly visage of the bartender was focused squarely on him. The slab of a man was thicker than a bear, clad in fur and skins. The outfit was damaged in many places, the cords of muscle underneath flexed with every movement and exacerbated the unpleasant body odor. Snake coughed while he inspected the man, the most drastic feature being his arm that ended in a stump, which was wrapped in leather. Green eyes penetrated the aristocrat’s soul from a face crisscrossed with too many scars to count. The bartender’s cascade of greyed hair ruffled as he turned to Hadvar and began to speak in Norse. Snake watched the two men exchange words in their guttural language before the miner smiled briefly and slowly sat back down. The noble frowned and reached for his mead. The meaty hand of the bartender slammed into Snake’s own, causing the table to shake violently.
“Imbecile!” He whined and tried to withdraw from the iron grip of the stronger man. The fierce green gaze showed contempt for the noble, while Hadvar grinned and took the mead. He sipped appreciatively and nodded to the bartender who released Snake’s hand and picked up three gold pieces that had fallen out of the sack. The aristocrat sat upright and stared icily back at the bartender.
“Fetch me wine.” He ordered while his fingers flexed to get blood back into them. The barbarian uttered a phrase in Norse, to which Hadvar snickered into his drink.
“Sigismund doesn’t like you.” He said, as Sigismund turned and stomped back to the bar.
“He doesn’t need to like me to bring me a decent drink.”
“Actually, he does.” Hadvar chuckled and downed the fresh drink in one go. The miner grabbed the sack of coins and hefted it in his palm.
“Ok small man, you have a deal.” He stowed the payment in his vest and listened to Snake outline his plan. He knew he might get expelled from the guild for unsanctioned prospecting within their jurisdiction and assisting an embargoed House. But damn it, even if the job turned up nothing, this gold could keep him and his family afloat for months. And it was a hell of a lot better than an apprentice’s.
* * *
“STOP.” Snake shouted. Hadvar halted mid-swing, startled out of the memory. He grit his teeth at being ordered about with such callous attitude, the Nord drew back for one more heavy swing, and worked out some anger by pretending the rock face was instead the noble’s face. In their short association together, Hadvar quickly grew to dislike the haughty noble immediately. This highborn prick commanded him like a menial. He chafed at this shocking difference from the mercenary company he had served in when younger, where leaders commanded respect and gave orders to equals. Regardless, he stepped away from the mountain and watched the noble hobble towards the small tunnel. He kept a white knuckled grip on the pickaxe. Snake had a manic look in his eyes, the deep orbs of yellow shined easily through the darkness of night. He darted into the tunnel and shouted, “Remain outdoors while I examine your progress.”
Hadvar turned to admire the valley and took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air; the smell of fresh rain on the mountain side valley was refreshing as cold creek water. He wiped the sweat off his brow and scratched at the scruffy blonde beard he was growing, he maintained a clean shaven head as a habit from his campaigning days but decided to try and grow a beard since he signed on with the miners guild. His wife didn’t like it, but his daughter did, saying it made him look like a bear.
“That’s the problem, I want to kiss a man, not an animal!” his wife, Frida, said with a coy smile. Hadvar had rushed up to their room to prepare for the expedition after he finalized the deal with Snake. He explained the situation quickly to his small family.
“This guy is a creep, but he’s a rich creep. This will be an easy pay day.” Hadvar said as he stuffed his mining pack with equipment.
“The only thing that could make my day better is you coming home without a beard!” Frida teased. She leaned over Hadvar’s shoulder and kissed him.
He regretted not being able to spend some quality time with his family before he had to leave and meet with his unscrupulous partner. The familiar sounds of the mountain animals in the night put him at ease as he reminisced on the memory. Hadvar took another breath of the sweet rainy air and smiled wistfully as he flexed his arms to work out the tension, he was a veteran of hard campaigns, but he was not old yet!
He frowned as he felt a certain itch and turned back towards the tunnel to keep Snake in sight. Paranoia had saved his life from crooked characters more than once. His smile disappeared when he focused on what the noble was doing. Snake had pressed himself bodily against the end of the tunnel. He caressed the rock with his hands. He smelled the rock before his elongated tongue extended and licked the solid wall. Not much unsettled Hadvar. Being a soldier for hire had led him to explore many lands with the mercenary companies he kept, from the coast of Nuvera to the deserts of Arakin. While crusading in these foreign lands he witnessed many events, too many of which were strange. But as he watched this bizarre ritual his free hand reached for the symbol of Zandri that dangled from his neck. Snake, seemingly satisfied, wobbled his way out of the tunnel. Hadvar stood straighter, stared at the cripple, and scrutinized his every movement. His hand dropped from the amulet at his neck to the mace at his waist that hung from its ring.
“Dig a crosscut two fathoms to the right.” Snake said as he approached. The small man’s eyes gleamed with feverish delight. Hadvar didn’t move, as he continued to examine the smaller man’s motion, his knuckles white around the haft of the mining pick. Snake's excitement evaporated instantly, and he strode in a crooked gait to stand a hair's breadth away from him. Snake’s bright yellow orbs narrowed as he craned his neck to look up into the Norseman’s eyes. The larger man, being a whole head taller than the petite noble, returned the glare.
“Dig THAT way,” Snake said, and pointed to the right, “Until I tell you to stop.”
The big man’s beard twitched. The glare intensified; his blue eyes flared with menace. This noble had no scars to mar his fair face. The high cheekbones, full lips, and shaved countenance were free from any sort of disfigurement. The large Norseman spoke quietly,
“I accepted your gold. But don’t mistake me for your servant, you spoiled runt,” the deep voice threatened violence.
“Yet here you are digging me a tunnel under my careful guidance, because, as you mentioned, I paid you.” Snake said, his thin voice was steady and unintimidated. His mouth twitched into a sneer, revealing rows of perfectly white teeth. “You’re wasting both of our time with your idiocy, now dig.” Both men remained motionless as they glowered at each other.
Norse blood thrummed through Hadvar’s veins; his ancestry had granted him the gift of a large physique. He was garbed in full chainmail and greaves that had seen plenty of use. The other, lithe, and sylphlike, was dressed in an elegant cape that concealed a high-quality suit of splint mail fresh from the forge. Even the local fauna seemed to quiet as time slowed. Hadvar huffed and shoved past Snake to get into the tunnel.
“Get your gimp ass over to that tree while I’m digging,” He motioned to a lone pine, a good distance from the tunnel entrance, “Or this crosscut is going nowhere.”
Snake sneered, “I shall do no such thing.” Hadvar stopped, turned back to the noble, and stroked his beard.
“I wonder how much the Guild would pay me for reporting unauthorized prospecting in their territory. Especially after they told you to fornicate with a cave bear.” Hadvar asked aloud.
Snake’s eyes narrowed further as he sucked his teeth, and replied
“Not nearly as much as I am paying you, use that inferior brain of yours.” Hadvar shrugged.
“True, but I like them a lot more than I like you.”
“You will never work for a Miners Guild again; I can easily afford the fee for embargoed prospecting. You, however, cannot.” Snake said, as he glared at the obstinate man.
“I was at the tavern all night. Just ask Sigismund and the patrons of the White Wolf.” Hadvar said, his arms crossed.
“If you really think the Guild would believe the likes of you over a member of nobility, I truly envy the bliss that comes with your ignorance.” Snake shot back; the words laced with venom. The burly Norseman grinned and relaxed slightly with a simple reply,
“I do.”
Snake’s eyes narrowed to bare slits. Hadvar easily returned the stare with confidence that he knew more than this haughty crook. Minutes dragged by before Snake rounded and began the troublesome trek to the pine tree. Hadvar kept an eye on him until he reached it.
“Spare me the indignities of your petty game and get back to work so we can go our separate ways all the sooner!” He shouted. Hadvar smiled before he reentered the tunnel and mined with renewed enthusiasm. The cripple might be a snake, but he had a good point. The sooner they found whatever Snake sought the sooner they could part ways, and Hadvar did not want to spend another minute than necessary in Snake’s presence.
* * *
Hadvar lit the lantern, the light it casted showed an abandoned mineshaft, like Snake had predicted. He wrinkled his nose; the rank smell of lamp oil was never pleasant. He readied a second lantern for Snake who struggled to get through the small, roughly hewed tunnel into the abandoned mineshaft. His cane poked the ground like a blind man trying to negotiate a tricky path. When he hauled himself through the opening, his cane slipped and skittered across the uneven floor. Hadvar heard him suck his teeth in an agonized fashion and lifted the lantern to illuminate the small passage better. Snake had fallen onto his back; his good leg was caught on a sharp protrusion of rock right behind the knee where there was a break in the splint mail. Hadvar laughed and bent over to grab the wayward cane. The hawk-like visage of Snake swiftly turned and glared at the bigger man. The Nord grunted, surprised how heavy it felt, the thing must have had a solid metal core. He admired the cane; gold filigree was layered into runes that ran the entire length of it and ended with a strong, slightly pointed steel cap. When he finished his examination of the intricate design, he walked over to the splayed-out man.
“I bet this cost a pretty penny.” He said conversationally.
“Don’t sully my cane with your filth!” Snake raged. The Nord shrugged and moved to lift the stuck leg. “Don’t touch me, you uncouth swine!”
Hadvar stared, then reached forward and lifted the highborn’s leg off the sharp rock. Blood ran from the injury, but he could see it was only a moderate wound.
“How DARE you?!” Snake yowled. His mouth shut abruptly when Hadvar dropped the leg. He bit through the flesh of his lip as pain shot through the tender injury. Hadvar ignored the outburst and heaved him to his feet.
“Like you said, the sooner we’re done the sooner I don’t have to listen to your prattle. And I don’t have time to wait for your crippled ass to learn how to stand properly.” Snake’s visage contorted; he opened his mouth to shout when the lantern was raised in front of his face and blinded him. With a curse, he lifted his arm against the bright light, and he felt the lantern handle pressed into his upraised hand. Hadvar noticed how unsullied and fair the noble’s exposed skin was. His nails were even manicured, the fingers adorned with rings of peculiar design. Compared to the Nord’s own gruff appearance and network of scars, this pompous upstart was fresh from the womb. He shook his head and muttered Norse curses as he looked at his own bare fingers. The miner turned away, lit the second lantern, and gazed into the darkness beyond the meagre illumination. With a heavy sigh he began to trudge forward and heard the angry tap of Snake’s cane as the cripple followed.
Other than the continuous tap of Snake’s cane on the rough stone there was no noise in the dark tunnel. Suddenly the end came in sight: collapsed rubble blockaded the mineshaft. Hadvar rounded on Snake,
“You said this mineshaft was abandoned! Why is there an intentional collapse?!”
Snake’s cool stare only aggravated Hadvar further.
“You don’t know that.” Snake said.
“I’ve worked with dwarves! I know how their explosives work! You think I haven’t sapped a wall in my life? Look!” Hadvar raised his lantern higher to better illuminate the roof of the collapse.
“See?! Tho-” He choked, for the lantern revealed the desiccated remains of at least six dwarven skeletons. Snake followed the Nord’s gaze and swallowed.
“I guess they tried to dig out,” Snake said and shrugged. He turned to start back down the mineshaft.
“If they tried to dig out, they would have. They’re dwarves you inbred twit,” Hadvar muttered, “The majority of their skeletons missing,” he observed with a muted voice. Snake rolled his eyes and peeked over his shoulder, “So what? Something killed them.” Hadvar snorted in exasperation,
“Now that we have a firm grasp on the obvious, what killed them?” Hadvar shivered when he saw the cracked bones marred with teeth marks, “And is it still in these tunnels?”
“Your lack of sense explains why you peasants are so easily subjugated,” Snake snorted, “The skeletons are completely rotted away, anything that would have feasted on them is long dead.”
“Creatures who hunt under mountains are no normal beasts.”
“How do you know it was a monster?” Snake asked. Hadvar’s jaw worked mechanically as he explained,
“They are missing THE MAJORITY OF THEIR SKELETONS!” He roared, “Whatever chased these dwarves, their brethren sealed this passage before they all made it out. Do you realize how serious this is?” Spittle flew from his mouth as he continued, “Are you ignorant as you are stupid?” Snake opened his mouth, then closed it. He repeated this gesture again with nothing to say then glared at the Nord.
“This changes nothing.” Snake stated as he watched the nervous miner shift uneasily.
“Double.” Hadvar declared.
“Double what, peasant?” Snake asked, exasperated.
“Hazard pay. You’re doubling the commission.” Hadvar’s face was as rigid as the mountain they were under. Snake opened his mouth in shock, dumbfounded. His pale complexion shone in the lantern light, then he laughed in Hadvar’s face.
“You have audacity, lowborn. I’ll give you that. I could have made a cunning ringforger out of you had your birth not been so poor.” Snake said. Hadvar turned and began his march back down the mineshaft, towards the entrance tunnel. The haughty aristocrat went through a battle of disbelief and anger while Hadvar’s outline continued to dwindle. The perplexed noble looked between the veteran and the grin of the skeletons, who mocked him with their macabre smiles. Snake gnashed his teeth and called out,
“I’ll contract your farm!” The offer froze Hadvar in his tracks. He whipped around and stormed towards Snake.
“It’s. Burnt.” The big Nord growled. He peered closely at Snake, “How the hell do you even know about my farm?” Snake grinned, his flawless teeth reflected in the lantern light.
“Do you think I’m a fool? I-,” he began.
“Yes.” Hadvar interrupted. Snake scowled and continued with a slow, deliberate tone.
“I make a point to learn about those who work for me. I also don’t typically offer an olive branch. So, take it.”
Hadvar stepped towards the noble. He towered over Snake. His sonorous voice matched the noble’s.
“People who threaten me typically end up in pieces.”
“It’s a shame you had to leave Frida billeted up in that rickety tavern. It’s a dangerous part of town.”
Hadvar’s hand shot out and grabbed his throat. The large Norseman effortlessly lifted him, face to face.
“I’ll break you.” His tone, cold as glacier ice. Snake’s face was more surprised than anything. The look in Hadvar’s bloodshot eyes convinced him that the statement was not a bluff. He tapped the arm that strangled him and choked out one word,
“Double!” Snake gasped for air when he dropped and somehow managed to stay on his feet. While he rubbed his neck, the Norseman remained in front of him. Snake could see his veins pulse with excited blood stand out against the backdrop of scars. A moment of respite passed as the noble regained his composure and breath, while Hadvar contemplated further violence. Eventually he shifted and started to head back down the mineshaft.
“Wait!” Snake coughed out.
“Why?” Any suggestion of camaraderie or manners were gone from Hadvar’s speech.
“I’m going to examine the remains. No doubt I can gain some knowledge about what killed those freaks.” Hadvar’s arched eyebrow told Snake how much he didn’t believe him.
“Just stand there and guard me.” he said while he made his way to the nearest skeleton. Hadvar watched him as he looked over the remains. He poked at the nearest skeleton, shoving it to the side and revealing strange, pockmarked stone underneath. Prompted by an unseen hand he kneeled over the mutilated stone floor. He paused and peered back at Hadvar,
“Stay there and face the other way! What kind of guard stares at his lord instead of the only direction a threat could come from? You can gawk at me later when I’m not paying you to do something.” Hadvar ground his teeth and scanned the darkness but the light only went out so far. The mineshaft suddenly felt hostile, like the mountain itself threatened them with the unknown. Stories of mutant creatures and folk tales seeped from his memory to haunt him.
The stale air and absence of noise agitated Hadvar while he kept Snake in his peripheral vision, whom he had even less reason to trust now. The aristocrat had lain on the ground and begun to smell the stone. He started to writhe in an ecstatic stupor. His hands caressed the uneven floor. His tongue left wet marks where it trailed along the stone. That moment decided for Hadvar how his employment would come to an end: he was going to kill Snake. He would wait until he had his payment first, and perhaps this artifact he sought would be valuable enough to fence. The noble suddenly seized up and froze. After a brief pause, he staggered up and swayed on his feet. Minutes later, he seemed to wake up from the trance. Snake hobbled back towards Hadvar, who kept a wary eye on the strange, twitchy man. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew it was nothing holy.
“So?” He prompted. His grip tensed and herealized that he had drawn his morningstar halfway from its holder. He took a deep breath and lowered the mace slowly back into the ring. Snake stared stupidly at the Norseman for a second, his normally bright eyes had dimmed, and mauve smoke swirled in his sclera. The taller man shuffled back, putting distance between him and Snake. He grabbed his Zandri amulet and murmured a prayer. Snake blinked rapidly a few times, the sheen returning to his eyes as the mauve smoke cleared.
“What? Scared of me?” He mocked the Nord. When he noticed the religious amulet, Snake burst into laughter.
“I knew you were a weakling, but Zandri? I figured a blood letter like you would follow Thraw. Maybe Ethadon.”
Hadvar’s stony visage hardened as he tucked the amulet into his chainmail and glowered at the noble.
“What did you learn? Maybe you want to have a go at that corpse this time? From what I saw the stone wasn’t too impressed with your lovemaking. You should learn a thing or two from a wench, maybe that will improve your freak show ritual.”
Snake’s glee turned to outrage in an instant.
“You… you ignorant ryot!” Snake screeched and lunged towards him with his cane raised to stab. Hadvar’s mace cleared its ring before the noble had taken another step and the large man bulled into the noble. The Norseman picked the other man up and brutally slammed him into the ground, knocking the breath out of him. As Snake struggled to suck air into his lungs, Hadvar yanked the cane out of his nerveless fingers and raised his mace to strike. Snake feebly raised his arm in a futile attempt to stop it. The mace crashed down. It gouged a small crater inches from his head. Both combatants froze. Hadvar’s death stare riveted the noble to the floor with the force of a spear.
“Why shouldn’t I kill you right now?” Hadvar quietly asked.
Snake gaped up into the stare of pitiless eyes. He coughed as he regained air and tried to nod before a fit of coughs started.
“That’s not a very good reason.” His voice held no mercy as the mace raised back into the air.
“Wa-aaiit!” Snake choked out, “I know powerful individuals!” He rasped and managed to stifle another cough, “I own multiple mercenary companies! Have you not heard of Aadesh’s Dervishes? Or the Scarab Reavers? I could put you in command!” Snake continued, “I am friends with the Mining Guild Master in San Lakan, you’ll be promoted to Chief, no more errands for you!” Snake screamed as the mace descended again.
“What, so you can have a second stick a knife in my back the second I sign on?” Hadvar grated out each syllable, “Try harder.” Snake gasped; the mace even closer to his face. He bit his lip and tasted blood from the reopened wound before he cursed inwardly. That was exactly what he had planned. The noble wheezed as Hadvar leaned down with a knee on his chest.
“You’re going to build me a ship, a merchant vessel.”
Snake nodded desperately.
“I own a ship-yard -“He began, but Hadvar leaned into his chest until he couldn’t breathe again.
“No, you’re going to give me enough money for a boat. I know my own shipwrights.”
“Yes! I can do that; you’ll have a better ship than Raul the Corsair!”
“How will you keep your word?” Hadvar asked and leaned back slightly. The noble took a deep breath as beads of sweat framed his face, then grimaced.
“Of the two of us here, I am the one who hasn’t broken terms of a contract. I am son of House Goulto! Therefore I am the trustworthy -” Snake choked again as the large man applied his weight back into his chest.
“Nope.” Hadvar glanced over Snake’s elfin body and glimpsed the many rings that stood starkly out against his pale skin. They weren’t gem encrusted or made of gold. The series of rings on his left hand were mauve colored, an odd choice for nobility fashion he thought. “These look important.” He said and reached for the arcane bands. Snake recoiled visibly.
“NO! I need these!” He shrieked and balled his hands into fists. The Norseman closed his hand over the noble’s and started to squeeze. Snake continued to rip his lip open and squirmed underneath the large Norseman. His nails dug into the palm and rented the delicate skin. After a large pop, he relented.
“FINE!” He whimpered as the stronger man released his grip. His index finger was dislocated. As Hadvar slid the odd rings off the noble hissed and glared at his tormenter.
“You get them back when I have my ship.” He said.
“Those belong in my family. If you misplace even ONE of them, I’ll-.” Snake growled through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, I guess you’ll do something really bad. The faster my ship gets built the faster you’ll have your fancy rings back eh?”
Hadvar stood and dropped his morningstar into its ring holder. He hauled Snake to his feet and jammed the cane back into his right hand. Snake winced when he tried to flex his left hand. He wasn’t ready when the Nord seized his hand and yanked on the dislocated finger. A shriek tore through his throat, followed by a familiar pop. He cradled his hand to his chest as the re-socketed finger throbbed in pain.
“Can’t tell you how many times these fingers slipped free from their housing.” Hadvar held up his meaty hands and flexed the fingers. Snake spat, the phlegm landing on the proffered digits. Faster than he could follow, the fingers collapsed into a fist and connected with his face.
“Cease your perpetual violence!” And tumbled back while fresh blood leaked from his lip. Hadvar dipped low in an exaggerated motion, his mining pack rattled while he swept his arm through the air.
“Why at once, sire,” he said, “now why don’t you inform this barbarian of what your mystical means have revealed?”
Snake’s glare flared with unbridled hostility while he dabbed at his lip with a silk cloth.
“Your insolence will not be forgotten by House Goulto.”
“I would hope not, do you want some more insolence to remember?” Hadvar started towards the aristocrat. He shrank back and the words tumbled out,
“A corrosive substance was spat at them in close range from a large creature. The acid was potent enough to melt the armor, flesh, bone, and surrounding rock. They died a few hundred years ago, give or take a few decades.”
“How the hell did you figure that out?” Hadvar asked, unable to restrain the obvious question.
“I don’t have the time or patience to explain my methods,” Snake said and sniffed, “The knowledge would likely melt your insignificant brain.” Hadvar ignored the continued barbs from the noble.
“What kind of large creature can spit acid like that?”
“Do I look like a bestiary?” Snake motioned towards the darkness of the mineshaft, “You’re to lead the way brute.”
The leather in his gauntlets strained when Hadvar flexed his hands. After a tense moment he sighed deeply. The less he knew about this eldritch individual the better off he felt. There were other people he knew who could get better answers from the slimy blackguard. He savored the thought, for one of those people lived in town and she would be extremely interested in Snake’s occult methods. He picked up his lantern and started the march into darkness. Snake wobbled after the miner with his crooked gait as his cane tapped with every other step.
“Muffle that damn cane.”
“No.”
“If I can hear it, so too can anything down here.”
“I don’t take orders from peasants.” Snake shot back. Hadvar only half turned before Snake muttered under his breath and stopped to wrap the steel end cap in cloth. He watched Hadvar resume his advance down the mineshaft and shivered. Snake might not know exactly what kind of thing melted those dwarves, but he knew it was tainted with witch stone. That was more than enough information to convince him he didn’t want to be the first to meet it.
* * *
They moved slower now. Their every breath seemed loud, every foreign sound an unseen predator. Hadvar was used to a company of men around him when he marched into battle. He was a fierce combatant and a formidable warrior; he had no doubt in his combat prowess. But whatever killed those dwarves was obviously the apex predator in this mountain. He didn’t even know what it was and the unknown eats away at even the stoutest of hearts. He glanced behind him at Snake, who barely kept up and maintained a permanent glare on the back of his head. When he made eye contact, the aristocrat tried to make his gaze even frostier but stumbled for the lack of focus on where he was going. Hadvar sniggered and continued on.
The musty air of the mine did little to improve the mood of the duo, odors from the lantern oil only exacerbated the problem. Snake brooded on revenge while he trekked. Revenge was a subject that had always inspired a devious creativeness in him that he was excited to put into practice once safely home. He was so lost in his thoughts that he tripped again. As he righted himself, he cursed the weight of his armor for it made him more awkward than usual, as he was unfamiliar to such protection. He noticed Hadvar had stopped and motioned with his lantern to get Snake’s attention. He had found a small connecting passage. Snake sucked his teeth.
“Dwarves?” Snake asked Hadvar, disdain evident in his voice. Hadvar let out a sigh of disappointment and shook his head.
“Kobolds. The pick work is far too messy. A dwarf would sooner drop dead than leave a portal so unrefined.” He said.
“Kobolds pose no threat to us.”
“They do if they’re well established in the area. This tunnel looks pretty well used despite the sloppy pick work.” Hadvar pointed out.
“If there is frequency of movement here, we best be away so as not to draw attention to ourselves then.”
“How astute of you.” Hadvar quipped
“That’s a large word for a peasant.”
Hadvar glanced at Snake, deadpan.
“You’re awfully accident prone for a snotty upstart.”
Snake’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Hadvar. A habit, Snake noticed, that had become far too common.
“We’re moving on. Keep an ear out, you hear kobolds before seeing them.” Hadvar took a chalk piece from his mining pouch and marked a subtle X above the tunnel entrance then continued on.
The odd couple’s constant trek took them deeper into the mountain, deeper into the unknown. The mineshaft eventually widened out into a cavern of an undetermined size. Snake shuffled a bit closer to the Nord as they entered the hollow.
“Extinguish your lantern.” Hadvar told him.
“Right, because we can see in the dark.” Hadvar could hear Snake roll his eyes in the dim lighting. Hadvar closed his lamp off, then grabbed Snake's.
“Hey!” Snake protested as the second source of light was cut off and they were both swathed in darkness.
“Real smart,” Snake muttered, his voice had dropped to a whisper, daunted by the ominous weight of the mountain, “That which I seek is deeper into the mountainside. Lead on, towards the center of this grotto.”
“We are not alone.” Hadvar’s calm demeanor frightened Snake more than any shout of alarm. Snake stretched his sense of vision to its limit as his pupils dilated. Bioluminescent shrubbery and mushrooms bloomed into existence and illuminated the distant roof of the cavern they had entered. A cluster of them lined the bank of a small stream. The air felt damp and the rotted smell of the under dark replaced the smell of lantern oil. Snake wrinkled his nose, annoyed that his mind had been so preoccupied with revenge plots that he tuned out all of his other senses. He noticed a large clump of these glowing fungi around the edge of a rocky outcrop. There was the faintest hint of shadows cast against the wall. Snake felt goosebumps rise, they had come close to stumbling into this mysterious group.
“How did you locate them?” Snake whispered.
“Practice,” Hadvar whispered back, “We’ll go around.” Snake nodded in agreement and followed the faint outline of the Norseman. Snake was glad of the slow stealthy pace that Hadvar adopted as it allowed him to actually keep up. The pair continued to the edge of the small stream.
Hadvar peered into the stream, the water flowed by slowly. More bioluminescent fauna lined the river. At that exact moment, a large snake darted past his field of vision and struck a grotesque fish that glowed brighter than the surrounding plants. Blood leaked from the soon to be dead fish. Hadvar squinted harder at the morbid scene. The fish glowed green and had six eyes. “The running water should help mask any noise we make but…” He shivered.
“Allow me to orient myself.” Snake said and walked to the nearest stalagmite covered in the fluorescent mushrooms. Hadvar knew he was about to perform another one of his archaic rituals. He wondered why he had allowed Snake to lead him this far based on such an arcane method of direction. Was he that desperate for money? If he had kept the sell-sword attitude, he would have killed Snake the first time he performed that strange rite and looted his corpse.
No, Hadvar hated to admit it but there was a sick curiosity that burned in his conscious. He frowned. There were multiple stories that described the dangers associated with curiosity. Furthermore, he had always obeyed orders from his commanders in regard to the weird. If something bizarre happened on the battlefield, kill it and bring the corpse to an expert. That was a standard policy among most mercenaries. This was the first time he was in a bizarre situation without a captain to advise him. Did he actually crave the unexplained and only now realized? Would he assume the risks, and possible rewards that came with the discovery of inexplicable things? He silently drew his morningstar and crept to Snake. The noble was on the ground in his stupor. He raised the weapon of war above his head in a two-handed grip. He had killed too many men to count, many in this exact type of situation. He could make a lot of money once he fenced this fool’s gear. The world would breathe a sigh of relief if Hadvar removed this specific blackguard from the realm of life. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, adrenaline flooded his system, and his breath rushed through his lungs. He heard Snake twitch beneath him, could see the outline of his dainty skull. The bioluminescent shrubbery seemed to pulse as time slowed.
Hadvar swung the mace with fatal speed, the arc of swing contained enough power to crush a steel helmet. He felt the familiar sensation of impact roll through his arm, his hands slightly numbed. The splash of water caught his attention. He peeked over his shoulder to see the large snake from before, it rose and scented the air as it stared at the Nord. He stared back unflinchingly. He felt every heartbeat as the snake watched him, time ceased to matter as they stared at one another. Eventually, he won the contest of wills. The snake lowered itself and slithered off into the shadows. He felt cold sweat soak his frame as he turned to look down at Snake. He froze and stared; his blue bloodshot eyes unable to comprehend what he saw. Hadvar’s mace had gouged a large crater out of the stone, close enough to have sprayed pulverized rock dust into Snake’s hair. He had intended to kill him, he made up his mind halfway through the downswing. He had felt the impact, the wet impact of metal on flesh. Yet Snake remained unmolested by the steel tool of violence. Hadvar’s gaze darkened as he glared intensely at his mistake. He tightened the grip on his mace and wrenched it out of the small crater. He felt exhausted, as if the entire mountain had crashed down onto his shoulders.
Snake stirred and stared blearily up at Hadvar. His sclerae were almost fully clouded with the mauve smoke. He gurgled words and reached out his hand. Hadvar eyed the outstretched limb. He extended his own hand but hesitated before contact. With a scowl, he kicked Snake in the back, who yowled as he snapped out of the stupor. Hadvar slammed his hand over his mouth and motioned for silence. He waited until the mauve color drained from his eyes, before he pulled him up and leaned him against the stalagmite.
“We don’t have time for your naps.” Hadvar snapped. Snake didn’t say anything but glared. The Nord turned and walked to the edge of the small stream. He scuffed the small crater with his boot then stared into the water. He continued to follow Snake because of the money. This was the reason he still followed the sinister aristocrat. He tried to convince himself that was the only one.
“We must head towards the far side.” Snake’s voice spoke from the darkness, tinted with a ragged breath. He raised his arm, barely visible, towards the rocky outcrop.
“Oh, directly toward the kobold camp?” Hadvar said under his breath.
“I tire of reminding you that you are being compensated for your hazard,” Snake whispered back angrily, “Twice over now, in addition to your extortion! And if you can’t handle a few kobolds then you’re as useless as I predicted!” He could see the irritated body language of the larger man but pressed on,
“Go earn your hazard pay.”
Both men jumped as they heard a commotion in the direction of the kobold camp. They heard a sound, similar to rain and spilled ale. Then, panicked, and pained squeals before more silence. Neither man moved, both strained their ears for anything else. Minutes passed. Hadvar saw Snake’s outline from the bioluminescence slowly relax before he heard it. There was a soft sound, like sand through an hourglass. And it was getting closer. He only hoped that Snake could remain calm. As the soft sound began to recede, they both released their breath.
“Zandri’s holy eyes, what in the nine hells was that?” Hadvar wondered to himself.
“Perhaps a basilisk?” Snake ventured
“In a mountain?”
“It would explain the acid.”
“What kind of basilisk has acid instead of venom?”
“It can be bred into them with the right… introductions into their physiology. I would not be surprised if a Cabalist has made his lair here and brought it with him.”
Hadvar quivered, “You… don’t think one of them would come this far north do you?”
Snake smiled, “I know this mountain is far older than the Mining Guild thinks and contains more secrets than I could care to discover,” he leaned closer to the Nord, “A Cabalist would be the exact type to care.” He tittered as the miner growled at him, “Our quest continues.” Snake breathed and started towards the kobold camp. Hadvar stared at the noble’s outline in disbelief but followed, while he stroked his Zandri amulet again. As they neared the wrecked camp they heard a sound like meat that had been left on the fire, the source revealed as they rounded the rocky outcrop. The kobolds had gathered large bundles of the glowing plant life to create a makeshift ‘campfire’, which provided plenty of light to see by. Hadvar wished they hadn’t.
Kobolds were hideous rat like humanoids and their mutilated remains did not improve their looks. There was one left alive, it gasped desperately for air with only half of a torso. The glazed eyes didn’t flinch as Hadvar sunk his pickaxe into its skull, to put it out of its misery. The few others were not much better off. The sound revealed itself to be an extremely potent acid, as it melted it touched. The few who survived the acid attack looked partially devoured.
Hadvar heard Snake draw a sharp intake of breath as he came upon the scene. The noble quickly knelt near the closest patch of pockmarked rock, which still sizzled from the recent acid. A shock of mauve light danced in his sclera when he daintily brushed his finger the freshly melted stone. Almost instantly he shot upright, eyes wide. Nord looked at Noble and in a single moment, there was recognition.
“We must depart. Now.” Snake hastily marched to the passage that the kobolds had guarded. That phrase earned him the undivided attention of Hadvar.
“That was no basilisk, was it?” He asked rhetorically.
“This tunnel will lead us to my artifact.” Snake stated and hobbled into the revealed tunnel. He didn’t make it far when Hadvar kicked his leg out from under him.
“What. Was. That. Beast.” Hadvar enunciated each word as he stepped on Snake’s crippled leg and began to apply pressure.
“I don’t know.” Snake spit at Hadvar.
“Guess.” Hadvar replied. They both knew that Snake had figured out what kind of creature it was. He was so fixated that Snake’s cane blindsided him, leaving a welt across his face. Hadvar stumbled and cursed while Snake hauled himself upright and glared daggers at the Norseman.
“I have had enough of this treatment you brutish lout!” Snake’s voice loaded with rancor. He began to twist his cane with specific motions. The former mercenary’s gut twisted and before Snake could finish, he flattened the noble with an overhand punch that spun him on the spot. Snake struggled momentarily before the cane was yanked out of his grasp.
“I will not be led to my death for your trinket!” Hadvar seethed. Snake reeled and tried to crawl away, clearly no match for the burlier Northman in a fight. Hadvar loomed over him, an avatar of wrath.
“Without me, you will be nothing more than slag when it’s done with you! You need my help if we are to kill it.” The son of House Goulto gazed into a visage of fury. His heart stopped.
“I’ll be long gone by the time it’s done eating you.” Hadvar snarled. With an alacrity born of justification he brought his boot down on Snake’s good leg and shattered the bone. No amount of stoic resolve could hold back the howl of pain that emitted from Snake’s throat, the sound rung throughout the cavern.
“Good riddance, freak.” Hadvar said as he ran back towards the entrance tunnel.
“If you want to keep your family in the realm of the living, you’ll NOT abandon me!” Snake screeched at Hadvar’s back. He didn’t stop.
“If you show your face in that shithole of a town without me, my Talon will flay your wife while your daughter watches!”
Hadvar’s soul shattered. Snake couldn’t. Snake wasn’t capable. He gnashed his teeth in rage and turned back. Snake was capable, he would be just the sort of scumbag to resort to such underhanded tactics. Snake gasped in pain as Hadvar hauled him upright.
“You have only prolonged your death, dishonorable cur.” The Norseman growled. The threat was met with a blood-flecked smile and laughter.
“Save your threats, dog, and figure out how we’re going to survive.” Snake coughed and wheezed in pain, the shattered remains of his bone ground against each other. Hadvar dragged the noble towards the kobold’s passage. Hadvar glared and threw Snake as far into the mineshaft as possible before he returned to the entrance and dug into his miner’s pack. He withdrew devices of dwarven origin and lined the lip of the mineshaft with them. He moved faster as he heard the sound of sand on the periphery of his sense. He set the fire stick into the explosives, ignited it and ran into the mineshaft as the beast drew closer. Hadvar dared to look back over his shoulder. He saw it. Then saw nothing as it belched acid, moments before the dwarven device exploded and collapsed the tunnel entrance.
Hadvar’s screams of agony drowned out the explosion. He fell to the ground in torment as the acid ate away at his face. Snake fumbled and ignited his lantern. He gasped at what he saw, for he had seen much cruelty in his life, even caused the majority of it, but he recoiled when he saw the remains of the Norseman’s face. The smallest amount of the potent acid had eaten away most of his face, his eyes nothing more than slag, his skull exposed, his fragmented jaw leered wickedly as the flesh of his mouth gibbered. Snake crawled to retrieve his cane; each movement sent a surge of agony through his leg. The pale digits wrapped around the haft of the cane and he cleared his throat.
“Cease your movement! I can fix you.” He hissed at Hadvar. When he heard Snake’s voice, the Nord lunged. His thick hands quickly locked around the noble’s throat. His voice grew hoarse as he continued to scream and teetered on the edge of sanity. Nobility did not prepare Snake for this type of combat, and he desperately tried to wrestle away from the larger man. When he realized how futile that was, he brained Hadvar with his cane, who collapsed immediately, poleaxed.
“Bloody ingrate.” Snake wheezed, as he shoved the unconscious man off of him. After a few deep lungfuls of air, the noble rolled Hadvar over onto his back. He grabbed the lantern to illuminate the grisly remains of the Nord’s face. His eyes had completely melted away, the nasal cavity and most of the bone around his jaw lay exposed. Snake grimaced as he calculated the odds of his survival without the burly northlander. Snake could almost forgive the murder attempt, for a face melted would drive anyone to acts of madness. He smiled briefly as this oddly brought back memories of some interrogations he conducted. His head shook when reached into his satchel to withdraw the components he needed.
“You better not be a waste of good resources.” He hissed at the oblivious Hadvar. Snake pinched some purple powder from one of his sacks and inhaled it. A dull smile instantly crossed his face as the yellow glow behind his eyes intensified. After a brief delay he huffed another pinch. With a smile he withdrew a black cube from his satchel. He held the cube over Hadvar’s face, then crushed the cube and rubbed the greasy material into his hands. Snake’s head snapped up as he heard movement come from the collapsed rubble. He turned back to Hadvar and plunged his hands into the mess of flesh and bone, careful not to injure himself on the sharp bone. The smell of ruined flesh intensified as he worked. The black goo adhered to every surface, thickened, and became gelatinous. The next component was a small cage that fit into his palm, that vibrated violently when it was taken out. Snake looked with fear at the entrance as the rubble shifted again. Snake’s breath quickened considerably as he held the vibrating cage and slowly opened it. When the mystic withdrew his hands a geode of tourmaline floated out of the cage, an inch above the ruin of Hadvar’s face.
Moments passed as the geode twisted in the air, it sporadically dipped low enough to touch the extruded bone. As it neared the forehead, Snake uttered a syllable, which caused a small yellow cloud to descend over the surgery. Suddenly, the geode froze as it touched the remainder of Hadvar’s forehead. It twitched then without warning it drew back and slammed into his skull. Bone crunched as the possessed geode settled into position on top of the forehead. Tendrils of black mineral began to flow from it and pool in the gaping wounds of bone. Hadvar’s arms had begun to flex as if they strained against invisible bonds. Minutes passed while Snake cast nervous glances at the rubble blockade. When the mineral finally filled every gap in the bone, a black mask of tourmaline covered the entire face.
At this, Snake let out a large sigh of relief, “Praise the gods.” As soon as the face mask solidified, he twisted the top of his cane in a series of specific clicks and depressed the master rune. The end of his cane extended, and a sickle blade sprung from the interior. Without hesitation he sliced a shallow wound into his palm, then ran it over the many runes on the haft of his sickle spear. Red, yellow, and mauve blood covered the mystic symbols and began to glow. Snake started to mutter words of power and a matching glow appeared on the rock of Hadvar’s face. As Snake continued his incantation the sound of shifted of rock continued to escalate. His face scrunched in concentration; he uttered the final syllable. The shield slid like grease to form the rough outline of a skull. The paste reacted violently with the flesh that remained and enmeshed itself after it displaced the muscle. The paste finally settled to reform the missing skeletal structure, it mimicked Hadvar’s original skull perfectly. Snake allowed himself a smile of satisfaction as he observed his handiwork. The reformed skeletal work of Hadvar’s face was the black, laced with seams of yellow and red veins that pulsed with the Nord’s blood. Snake removed one last component from his pouch, a flawless round garnet. He squeezed the garnet in his hand and when it was coated in yellow blood, he plunged it into the right eye socket. He summoned more occult witchcraft and the yellow fog lifted from Hadvar. As he withdrew his hand, sickly blood veins broke through the rock of the eye socket surfaces and latched into the gem.
A black pupil formed onto the garnet surface and began to twitch like a thing possessed. Hadvar rocketed to his feet and withdrew his mace in panic. He could see, but his vision only contained shades of grey against a background of deep blood red. The dark held no secrets from him, his new ‘eye’ able to see clear as day in the darkness. He inhaled, felt the air whiff directly into his face, the nasal cavity exposed. He frowned when he couldn’t identify all the scents he picked up. He slowly raised his hand to his new face, and he felt warm stone. Too stunned to comprehend what happened, he dropped his morningstar and placed both of his hands on his face. He had no nose and his left eye socket remained empty. His fingers brushed against the cold gem that had replaced his eye. He could feel his hands through his face, but it felt numb. He opened his mouth to shout.
“You’re welcome,” Snake sibilated, “for what I just expended upon your worthless body I could have hollowed out this mountain for my own personal laboratory.” Hadvar’s jaw ground itself shut again; the sensation felt like two boulders had smashed against each other. He tried to glare at the noble as he retrieved his morningstar from the ground but soon realized he had no eyelid, or facial tissue for that matter. He gazed past the noble and saw a kobold war party, at least two score, come into focus further down the mineshaft. He could tell they were heavily armed and wary but not yet aware of their presence. Hadvar swooned when he moved, but he recognized a combat situation when he saw one and it galvanized him into action. He seized Snake when the sound of rubble took his attention away from the kobolds. With a peek over his shoulder he saw the top of the rubble begin to shift, a gap opened as he watched. Hadvar was no stranger to fear. After being in enough battles a man could acclimate to fear, learn to use it. But it wasn’t fear Hadvar faced then, it was terror. Hadvar hauled Snake into the first crosscut he saw as more of the collapsed rubble started to shift. He heard the kobolds pick up their pace at the noise, the claw leader barked a challenge and began to charge towards the tunnel entrance.
“Take heed!” Snake hissed in pain and slapped Hadvar as he was carried. The remains of his shin fanned the spite he felt towards Hadvar. The miner paid little attention to the other man’s complaints as he turned the corner in the crosscut. Hadvar groaned as they ran into a dead end only a dozen feet long. A soft glow arrived at the entrance to the crosscut they had hid in. Hadvar laid Snake as far into the dead end as possible, then peered around the corner. A kobold wove a mushroom bundle like a torch down the crosscut. Hadvar was confident the weak bioluminescent fungi weren’t bright enough to light the entire crosscut. Then, the kobold raised its crooked nose and smelled. The Norseman held his breath, but it was useless. The kobold barked something in its crude tongue and three more kobolds backed up the mushroom bearer as they started into the shaft, weapons raised. At that exact moment, a large billow of dust signaled the blockade of rubble has given way, breached by the creature.
The Kobold Claw leader had time to utter one strangled cry. It was seized and shaken like a rag doll before its spine snapped. With his new enhanced vision Hadvar could clearly see the events unfold. He saw the creature turn towards his crosscut as the kobold mushroom bearer shrieked in panic and tried to run deeper into the side tunnel. Hadvar backed around the corner and huddled next to Snake, as the smell of acid filled the small passage, accompanied by sounds of wounded kobolds. A large splatter of acid made it all the way to the wall of the crosscut before it turned. Hadvar grabbed the holy Zandri symbol around his neck and babbled prayers of protection, Snake could see the Norseman go pale when he heard the hiss of acid. The wall became pockmarked and sizzled violently and the kobolds screams withered to weak gasps as they disintegrated.
“What is-,” Snake started to ask but Hadvar clamped his hand on his mouth to silence him before he crouched forward to peek around the corner again. A large bloodshot eye tinged with greenish flecks and black veins of corruption appeared. The Dragon hissed as acidic saliva drooled out of the many holes in its jaw. Hadvar watched the corrupted dragon’s bloodied snout twist as it examined the crosscut for movement. The sickly creature was missing half of its face, a large gouge along its jawline displaying the rotten teeth that remained. He noticed numerous glowing shards of witch stone embedded within the dragon’s skull, they seemed set there by some intelligence. Hadvar could not comprehend who would be insane enough to get close enough to a dragon to commit such an act. He followed the corrupt dragon’s movement as it withdrew and slithered deeper into the kobold’s territory, when he noticed large weeping sores that forced the natural armor of scales to peel and fall away. Some of these welts looked like… eyes. The dragon dragged its elongated rear half and Hadvar saw why: the rear left leg was crippled beyond recognition, forcing the dragon to crawl as means of movement, creating the sound of slithering like a giant snake. Hadvar waited minutes before he dared moving again. He slowly rose from his crouch before he faced Snake.
“You will support me. We are close to the artifact.” Snake said. Mauve smoke heavily clouded his sclera and his yellow eyes glowed intensely. Hadvar stared icily down at the noble. His two-tone vision was still an alien sensation, he was somehow able to keep depth perception despite only one eye. He slowly raised his hand and felt his new face again. It felt like warm stone and he could feel the blood pulse in the strange, solid veins that crossed his face. His finger dipped carefully into his empty eye socket; he discovered the interior was perfectly smooth before tracing the outside of his occupied eye socket. He shuddered when he accidentally brushed the veins that connected him to the red mineral, the sensation strange but not painful.
“What curse is this, warlock?” Hadvar rasped as he noticed how hard it was to form syllables. He felt his tongue, only to feel a somewhat flexible slab of rock occupied his mouth instead. The replacement cracked as he continued trying to flex it. Hadvar winced as his new organ adjusted to being used.
“More than you deserve,” Snake replied, then groaned in agony as he tried to shift his ruined leg, “You will carry me until I have the strength to fix my leg.” He instructed. Hadvar glowered at the noble.
“You won’t survive,” The Norseman stated, “that was a dragon from Arakin. Someone or something lured it here and tainted it with witch stone.”
“Arakin? A sand wyrm?” Snake uttered in disbelief, “There’s no way a Cabalist could ensorcell a wyrm.”
“So, whatever did, has more wizardry than a Cabalist. I’ve only seen one of those desert dragons once before and it took a score of men to kill it,” Hadvar recalled the violent encounter, “only two survived.”
“Maybe it will be distracted by the kobolds long enough for us to reach my goal.” Snake didn’t sound convinced of his own theory.
“To hell with your trinket! This is about survival.” Hadvar couldn’t believe the gall of this noble.
“Need I remind you why you should care about my trinket?” Snake croaked; his voice dripped malignancy. Hadvar’s garnet glowed in rage, he clamped one hand over Snake’s mouth and stomped on the broken leg. The noble bit into Hadvar’s flesh in agony, his own eyes blazed in wrath. Hadvar gasped when he felt a blade pierce the flesh of his armpit and stop only a few inches deep. He saw Snake had his sickle spear poised to plunge into his heart.
They glared at each other in stalemate, before the Norseman slowly released the highborn and stood, Snake kept his spear ready to kill.
“We. Need. Each other,” Snake gasped, “Imbecile.” Hadvar nodded. Snake didn’t remove the spear. Another minute passed of silent contempt for each party before he unhurriedly withdrew his spear. Hadvar unslung his miners pack and began to dig through it while the noble watched him intently. After a minute Hadvar withdrew a bolt of cloth and flask of oil. It was hard to read the expression on the Norseman’s face without any flesh on it, but Snake correctly guessed that it was supposed to be a glare. Hadvar reached over to the noble and propped up the ruined leg. He worked steadily to unroll the golden cloth and wrap it around the outside of Snake’s armor.
“I see I’m not the only one with ill-gotten goods.” Snake wheezed with laughter. Hadvar tried to glare again but continued until the bolt was completely unraveled. He unstopped the flask and dumped the fluid onto the cloth, soaking it through. It didn’t take long for the cloth to brightly flash gold before it crumped to ash.
“Temporary.” Hadvar rumbled and stood.
“I know.” Snake said before he reset the sickle spear back into a cane and stood. He uttered a croak of pain, there was pain still there but dulled. The bones had been reknit but neither man knew for how long.
“Get thing. Leave quickly. Avoid dragon.” Hadvar spoke, each syllable overenunciated. Hadvar’s garnet riveted on the cane, before it glanced back at Snake. This time Snake shivered, the skull visage and intensity of the Norseman palpable even without skin to demonstrate his contempt.
* * *
There were more scattered kobold remains as Hadvar and Snake stalked down the mineshaft. The acrid stink of acid and rotten meat intensified as they came upon a ruined dwarven guard shack that had been occupied by kobolds.
“Zandri’s teeth.” Hadvar mumbled, observing the kobold bodies strewn about.
“Odd, I didn’t expect dwarven architecture.” Snake voiced his surprise. Hadvar shrugged and continued onward,
“Leftovers.”
Snake made to follow but halted suddenly and scampered into the dilapidated structure that was carved into the side of the tunnel. Hadvar rolled his eye and winced as he felt it literally roll in its socket.
“What?” Hadvar asked impatiently when he followed the noble into the shack. Snake felt the wall with twitchy movements, before pressing himself bodily against it and licking the stone face. Hadvar snarled.
“Enough! Cease your devilry!” Hadvar moved to grab the noble. Snake’s hand suddenly depressed a square piece of the wall which caused machinery to grind into life. Hadvar froze as a square slab of rock descended into the floor to reveal a hidden tunnel. Snake turned and smirked at the stunned Norseman.
“Finally, some fortune. This should get us closer without encountering the beast.” He said and stood aside. He ushered Hadvar into the secret tunnel, who was glad to take any path that would avoid that dreadful monster. Hadvar led the way, stooped slightly as the tunnel was intended for the stout folk. The pair traveled quite a long distance before they noticed the tunnel began to ascend before it arrived at an intersection.
“Right.” Snake instructed and pointed when the Norseman glanced back at him. Hadvar’s disturbed gaze lingered, he saw a change come over the noble. Snake smiled; he was giddy like.
“Quick-quick! We near our destination!” Snake gestured dramatically. Hadvar grimaced, not excited to find out what crazy object this madman was so desperate to attain. The tunnel continued to stretch on, entrances to the tunnel were rare, and they checked each one. There was a granary; a hidden watch post overlooking a grand hall; and a jail cell. Hadvar grew morose as each location demonstrated how far this dwarf hold had fallen, each place ransacked and occupied by kobolds. Snake paid the ruins no mind. After what seemed to take ages, they arrived at the right door.
Hadvar paused before he left the confines of the tunnel, suddenly apprehensive. When he finally stepped through, he lifted his arms and stretched languidly followed by a deep sigh of satisfaction. Snake was similarly excited as he stretched to work out his sore muscles. Hadvar looked around and discerned they had come out in an armory. Like most other dwarven constructions, the armory had been carved out of the wall, with a metal grate set into the entrance. There were many notch marks and large chunks chipped out of the rock around the grate. Hadvar could see even Snake was impressed with the dwarf work.
“For all their prowess, I have easily managed to penetrate their defenses.” Snake gloated. Hadvar shook his head and chose not to respond as he continued to look around. He saw a withered dwarf corpse, mummified by time, crammed behind a shelf. Striding over to the corpse, he noticed a small keg and beer stein littered the ground at the dwarf’s feet. He chuckled to himself and crouched down to raise the mug in salute to the unknown armorer. Hadvar’s eye caught a glint of metal behind the corpse. He reached behind the dwarf to dislodge the mysterious object. As it came free of the worn away sling, Hadvar’s eye would have widened in shock if he had an eyelid. He almost dropped the precious weapon in shock. It was a dwarven engineer’s clockwork rifle. Hadvar hastily grabbed a rag from his pack and polished the gleaming metal reverently. He would have wept in awe; he had only ever had the chance to handle one once before in his lifetime.
On a campaign into the haunted lands, his mercenary company had rescued a dwarf party from an undead assault. In gratitude the dwarf engineer had allowed him to handle his rifle, and take the ceremonial shot to execute the necromancer who instigated the attack. As Hadvar polished the dusty clockwork rifle now in his possession he saw it was an even more advanced model. Every dwarf engineer customized their rifle throughout its lifespan to add more capability to an already deadly weapon. This one had a longer barrel, ported at the end, and some sort of additional chamber underneath the front of the barrel. After a couple minutes of polishing, the rifle looked almost new again. Hadvar thanked the dwarven gods for the craftsmanship of these hardy people. He recognized the lever operating system from the first clockwork rifle he handled but the underslung chamber at the front mystified him. He operated the small lever on the side of the chamber and a gunpowder charge fell out, followed by a lot of small, spiked balls. He frowned, confused by the ammunition but stuffed it back in the breech. Gunpowder weapons were still pretty new to humans, but he knew nobody could match the dwarves in the art of warfare. Hadvar apologized to the spirit of the dwarf as he went through its equipment, finding ammunition and oil. He also found a dusty journal on the nearby shelf. A glance told him it was in dwarven runes, which he did not know. Regardless, he pocketed it and resolved to get it translated at the first possible opportunity. He looked up as Snake cursed, he had tried to force open the gate to the armory. With a shrug, Hadvar squirted the oil over the gun. He was glad that the engineer he rescued allowed him to watch the rifle being cleaned after the execution. While he never considered himself much of a marksman, equipped with a dwarven clockwork rifle he felt like he could shoot the wings off a butterfly. After the oil worked into the gun, Hadvar knelt again and rested his hand on the dwarf’s skeletal shoulder.
“Thank you. I hope you are at peace in the halls of the dead.” Hadvar struggled to string together such a complete sentence as his rock tongue cracked.
“Curse this dwarven contraption!” Snake snarled. Hadvar felt a new wave of hatred for the warlock. Such a reverent moment does not come twice in a lifetime, he looked at the dead dwarf apologetically. He also noticed a large key hanging from its belt that he missed the first time. With a smile, or at least his best attempt at a smile with what flesh remained around his jaw, he grabbed the key and shoved Snake away from the gate. Snake was about to reproach the man when Hadvar inserted the large key into the lock and pushed the gate open. Snake said nothing but brushed past Hadvar into the dimly lit hallway. Dwarven glowstones cast small pools of illumination along the hallway. Snake wobbled down the passage.
“Come heathen, we are close! So close!” He rasped excitedly. Hadvar shook his head and followed the noble and hefted his new rifle. He knew he would have the chance to try out his new weapon soon. The apparent destination was not too far down the dwarven passage. Two large stone doors dominated the end of the hallway. They were cracked, bits of dusty rock and stonework littered the passage, which allowed for a moderate sized hole to be made. There were kobold constructions of reinforcement, but they were flimsy works. Hadvar skimmed the stonework that remained.
“What do you want in a dwarf Vault?” Hadvar asked.
“Something they stole!” Snake shouted. The Norseman’s gaze would have narrowed if possible. Snake’s yelp of surprise and pain focused the large man’s attention, however. A crude spear lanced into Snake with enough force to drive him to the ground. Hadvar knelt, raised the rifle to his cheek and fired. The kobold that followed behind the spear, raised it for another stab, when suddenly thrown backwards. The shot had blasted half of his ribcage open. The crack of gunpowder echoed through the halls as Hadvar pumped the lever action and mentally thanked the superb dwarven engineering that kept this gun operational. Snake scuffled back; his splint mail had protected him from the primitive weaponry. He stood and pressed his back against the intact part of the vault door. The smell of gunpowder, and the resultant cloud of smoke didn’t bother Hadvar as he sprinted the distance to the Noble. Screeches of rage and panic echoed from inside the vault.
“Leave it to Kobolds to set up shop in the room with the most shinies!” Hadvar growled.
“I saw it!” The longing in Snake’s voice was deranged. “Their thrice cursed leader has it!” He continued as he twisted the sickle spear from his cane.
“How many kobolds?” Hadvar asked. Small javelins began to clatter against the ground in front of the entrance, thrown haphazardly by inexpert hands.
“A lot!” Snake shouted. He reached into his satchel of reagents and pulled out a small sack. Hadvar seized his arm, the garnet in his eye socket bright.
“No more of your damned magic warlock!” Snake howled and with a burst of strength, ripped his arm free of the burlier man’s grip.
“No more INTERFERENCE, peasant!” Snake shrieked. Before Hadvar could grab him again, he threw the small sack into the opening. The runes along the haft of the spear flashed briefly as the contents of the sack landed inside. Moments later there was a resounding woosh. In an instant, a massive cloud of black smoke billowed out of the vault like a sandstorm. Hadvar’s magical vision could easily cut through the enchanted obfuscation. The glow of Snake’s yellow eyes intensified.
“Strike! Now!” The mad noble shouted. Hadvar had no intention to entrust his life to this black magic. He shoved Snake towards the entrance. He grit his teeth as he slung his rifle into the mining pack and drew his morningstar. This damn sandstorm would likely interfere with the rifle. The noble’s eyes blazed with a newfound light before he bolted into the vault. When Snake didn’t tumble back out with a javelin through his neck Hadvar followed. The artificial black sandstorm had panicked the rat men. Hadvar could see them grab at their eyes, blind panic caused many of them to fall from their escalated ramparts. The Nord chuckled lightly. He also saw the many dwarven chests that had all been smashed open and thrown aside. The kobolds had emptied every chest and dumped every artifact, gold piece, and worthwhile object into a large pile in the center of the vault. At the top of this pile was a crude platform, complete with a throne. The platform was occupied by an obscenely large kobold, swollen with unnatural might. It tried to restore order with large barks and what he assumed were threats. Next to the brute was a scrawny specimen that clutched a staff with witch stone trinkets strewn about its top. It was the shaman that worried Hadvar, as it looked directly at Snake. It began to bark strange consonants in the langue of kobolds and raised its claw.
“Sna--!” Hadvar began as a sickly green lightning bolt erupted from the kobold shaman’s staff and lanced toward the warlock. Snake thrust his sickle spear in front of him. The lightning impacted it ferociously and forced Snake to stumble back, but the madman grinned as his spear began to flicker green. With the speed borne of years of practice, he changed grip on his spear and hurled it straight at the shaman. The kobold only had a moment to gasp in shock as the spear impacted him in the midriff and his own spell detonated. The green lightning spit from the spear. It arced towards any nearby kobolds, frying the unfortunates who were caught. The kobold chieftain was unfazed, the lightning harmless against him. Hadvar grimaced as he looked at the raucous leader. The massive brute had a large shield and a cruel axe. He watched as Snake uttered some strange word and his sickle spear reappeared in his hand with a flash of mauve light.
Hadvar recovered from the shock of the rapid mage duel. The sandstorm started to disperse, and the chieftain saw Hadvar begin to charge. The rat man bellowed his call to violence and battered the bloody axe against his shield. The beast was at least a foot taller than Hadvar, but he showed no fear. Hadvar’s blood pounded in his ears as adrenaline pumped through his system, the familiar dread and excitement of battle raced through his blood.
The moment Hadvar mounted the treasure platform the chieftain swung his axe in a horizontal swipe, Hadvar barely managed to duck. The large shield was ready and connected with his jaw in a vicious uppercut that flung him across the platform. Hadvar blinked, or tried to, then jumped up. He shook his head once and shrugged off his mining pack. The kobold barked in annoyance when he saw that the Nord’s skull had dented his shield. Hadvar took the opportunity and sprinted at the warmonger. It snapped at him in surprise and tried another flat slash. Hadvar twisted around the outside of the swing and came up on the rat man’s left side. He spun with the momentum and slammed his morningstar into the chieftain’s shoulder, where he felt the joint pulverize. The limb dropped useless at its side. The kobold turned with the Nord and sunk its teeth into his shoulder in retaliation. Hadvar howled as he felt rotten teeth sink deep into his flesh. He saw the axe in an overhead arc, aimed at his head. That instant in battle Hadvar knew he was a dead man, outplayed by a rodent. The next second was most bizarre for him. There was a loud screech as the axe impacted into his skull, then became stuck. His head felt like it had been split open, but the pain faded to a numb annoyance. He looked just as surprised as the kobold. His veteran instinct took over and he yanked his head back. The kobold’s grip must have loosened in surprise because the axe went with Hadvar. He headbutted the rat man with all the force he could muster. The rock-solid skull broke bone and forced the beast to disentangle himself and squeal in pain. As he readied the killing blow the chieftain’s tail entangled his feet and tripped him! His greaves protected him from the barbed knives that were hammered into the tail, but he had to roll quickly to avoid the rat man’s clawed foot. The Nord managed to put distance between them and scrambled to his feet. The additional weight of the axe embedded in his skull added felt bizarre. As he watched the kobold, he saw green and black fire begin to dance behind the mad chieftain’s eyes. The rat king inhaled a mighty breath of air and belched sickly green witch fire from his maw!
Hadvar leaped off the platform, the heat from the intense blaze left him with burns from proximity. His body flew wildly when the axe in his skull suddenly caught on nearby kobold construction. He spun back around to see the chieftain laugh at him. His heart sank as he watched it prepare to unleash another burst of flame. At least he would die with his morningstar gripped tightly in his hand. The chieftain’s eyes suddenly bulged, and he froze in place. A sickle spear sprouted from the kobold’s chest, surrounded in mauve light. It rotated and was wrenched back through, forcing the chieftain to topple backwards onto the platform. Hadvar watched, transfixed as Snake plunged a glowing hand into the wreckage of the rat man’s ribcage and seized onto something. Snake tore a black iron spherical cage from the ruin of flesh. Hadvar had no clue how such an object even ended up in the Kobold, but that fact couldn’t compare to what was inside this cage.
A flawless orb of witch stone, carved into a very specific fashion, shone with green and black lights. Snake’s face split into a Cheshire grin as he cradled the object to his chest and began to giggle insanely. Hadvar thought about the axe in his cranium when he felt the axe blade crumble into tiny shards, dropping him onto the treasure pile. Without a further thought he scrambled back up to the platform and retrieved his miners pack. He warily eyed the deranged warlock. The light in the cage had now faded into a swirling nimbus of mauve and purple light.
“We need to leave.” Hadvar rumbled. Snake’s head snapped up as if he had just noticed Hadvar for the first time. He brought the cage closer to his chest to hide it from view.
“Before the beast shows.” Hadvar continued, eager to leave. All the treasure in the vault would be useless if he were dead, he reasoned with himself. He glanced at the vault entrance. He almost expected to find the dreaded dragon sat there. Mention of the dragon seemed to snap Snake back to the present. He shivered and secured the dark artifact into his satchel of goods.
“Shame your leg still works.” Hadvar said, as he locked eye with the warlock.
“My dear Northern Savage, everything will work at peak efficiency soon enough.” The grin that split Snake’s face made Hadvar grip his morningstar tighter. This was the opportunity he had waited for.
So engrossed in their inherent plots that neither man noticed the sound of scales until it was too late. Hadvar saw the dragon’s visage appear from a large crevice in the back wall. It moved so fast there was no time to even shout as acid slammed into Snake’s back. Hadvar saw it happen in slow motion, Snake’s face lit up in agony as a wail of pain tore its way through his throat. The wail didn’t last long as his body crumpled instantly, the acid melted its way through the splint mail and into the man’s spine in a matter of seconds. The dragon itself was stuck fast in the crevice and hissed angrily. Fresh adrenaline surged through Hadvar’s bloodstream. He seized Snake’s body and leapt off the platform. He slid down the mountain of gold and scrambled through the weak kobold fortification at the vault entrance. Hadvar looked back as he heard the crack of broken stone. The dragon emerged from the crevice and launched itself at him. It easily cleared the chieftain’s platform and landed on the gold pile. Hadvar threw himself to the side of the vault entrance as a fresh splash of acid landed where he was a second ago. He leapt to his feet and hauled Snake’s corpse over his shoulder as he sprinted towards the armory. He knew the dragon was too big to fit through the narrow gap of the vault door and dared to hope the dwarven stonework would hold it back until he safely made it to the hidden tunnel. He heard a monstrous crash as the dragon barreled through the dwarven vault gates, the stonework crumbled by its massive body.
“Zandri’s holy piss!” Hadvar cried in despair. He heard it rapidly close the distance. Acid splashed to his left as the dragon missed. Hadvar knew he couldn’t make it to the armory, the beast was too fast. Hadvar screamed in anger and spun on his heel. He hastily withdrew the dwarven clockwork rifle and crouched into a kneeling position. The dragon hissed and paused in confusion at the sudden turn of its prey. It was half mad but buried deep within its psyche was the honed predatory instinct of a thousand generations. This slight pause was all Hadvar needed, he pulled the trigger, and the rifle coughed its violent discharge. Hadvar uttered a squeal of hope as the rifle bucked into his shoulder. The bullet slammed into the dragon’s skull, ricocheting off one of the witch stones embedded within the bone. The lever already cocked; he sent another round at the monster. The bullet impacted into one of the mutated eyes that had pushed the protective dragon scale aside. With a bellow of rage and pain the dragon charged at Hadvar, unfazed by the dwarven bullet. Hadvar’s garnet vibrated in its socket with terror, as death approached him for the second time that same night. Its jaw distended wide and acid bubbled in its throat. The Norseman stood in calm certainty and aimed the rifle again. He could smell the terrible breath of the beast as it was only feet away now. Hadvar felt his hand reach forward and pull the trigger on the underslung barrel. A flash of fire larger than any firearm Hadvar had seen erupted from the short barrel of the rifle. The dragon’s roar of victory turned into a strangled yelp, as pointed shot ripped its way into the roof of its mouth and shredded the remains of its brain. Hadvar dived to the side as the dragon’s momentum carried it past him. It thrashed in its death throes.
When Hadvar dared look at the beast, he saw it was upside down, the vacant eye glossed over as acid flowed from its throat and pooled beneath it. Hadvar slowly stood, convinced it would rise again and melt him on the spot. Moments later he leaned to the side and retched his stomach contents repeatedly. After minutes of sickness, Hadvar glanced at Snake’s body, surprised to see the sickle spear still in his grip. He didn’t know why he grabbed the noble’s corpse. Perhaps there was some loyalty there. No, it was the life debt. Snake did save his life, even if it was in the process of his own greedy desires. He laughed weakly at the irony of the situation. He would return the corpse to town for proper burial at least, then piss on the grave of the man who threatened to flay his wife. He stowed his rifle and Snake’s satchel into his mining pack. He grabbed Snake’s body to begin his journey back. As his hands touched the warlock’s flesh there was an explosive discharge of magic which threw Hadvar across the hallway into the dragon’s corpse. He gasped for air and crawled away from the mutant corpse; his entire body tingled as the smell of ozone filled his nose. He looked at Snake and froze. His armor, rings, and gear were there but the body itself had disappeared. Hadvar paled in panic. He had hoped to convince the noble’s Talon that there was nothing he could do about Snake’s death, but without a body he had no proof. He gasped in exhaustion and hauled himself to his feet. He grabbed the rings and scrambled back to the armory. He had to get to town. He had to get his family out of the tavern. Once in the tunnel, he moved as fast as he could while crouched. He blinked and tried to adjust to the darkness. Hadvar froze, he didn’t put Snake’s rings on. Yet there they were, encircled among each of his digits. He blinked again. Goosebumps prickled his skin as he reached for the pocket mirror from his pack. Mauve light surged from his fingertips and the mirror flew from his hand. Excruciation filled his body as he collapsed.
“You failed, peasant.”
Hadvar saw his reflection in the shattered glass as darkness took him.
A baleful yellow eye blazed in his left eye socket, engulfed with a screen of mauve smoke.
ADAM DAVIS is a junior pursuing a Baccalaureate in English, Creative Writing. He enjoys writing fiction because it’s waaaaay more interesting than anything else in life.