FFOG3 Chapter 4

Imajin, Calaria, Stubbs, and Civan venture into Barren in order to cross over to Auberon. During their first night they come upon the Sanctuary of the Damned, a run-down town in the center of the desert occupied only by a horde of skeletons. The leader of this group is Gorgoth the Destroyer, who uses a strange magic to "kill" one of his own followers after it stands up to him. He then discovers the group and uses his magic on them as well, only to realize that it is in fact White Magic. Before he can finish them off with his warhammer, they are attacked by the Barren Worm. Gorgoth joins the group to kill the beast and remains with them in gratitude for their assistance.

The next day passes without event, save that the group must now fend off Gorgoth's former followers. On the third day, Stubbs is forced to put down the Chocobos. They continue on foot, but they don't get far before Calaria, Stubbs, and Civan faint from heat exhaustion. While Imajin stabilizes them, Gorgoth leads him to a cave formerly used by the Barren Worm to escape the sun. Gorgoth then takes over the healing while Imajin keeps watch. Cire Tyul, a mercenary hired by Hal'amek, arrives in a tank of mysterious design and attacks Imajin. Imajin flees into the cave, losing track of Gorgoth, and falls into a deep pit.

Imajin's new undead status allows him to survive the fall and escape Cire. He is met by Thirithufth, one of many dwarves living in a city beneath the valley, and taken to see Nerrick, the Dwarf King. Receiving no definite orders from Nerrick, Thirithufth leaves Imajin in the care of Dilson, despite Imajin's desire to find the rest of his group. Dilson goes against the rest of the colony and takes Imajin to find them.

Upon exiting the city, Imajin and Dilson come upon Cire frozen in a block of ice. They are approached by Shiva, who is also seeking Calaria since the girl had called to her by accident. The djinni escorts them to an underground swamp where the water from Barren drains to. At the center of the swamp they see Calaria being attacked by a wraith-like creature; Shiva chases it away, though she also awakens the Malboros in the swamp. Dilson fends them off while Imajin goes to awaken Calaria, and then they escape, stumbling upon the others along the way.

Despite afflicted by a Malboro's breath, Dilson takes the group back to the dwarf city. Thirithufth notices Gorgoth and, unwilling to keep the skeleton as a guest, informs them of the wires used by their ancestors to safely cross the valley. Despite warnings that the wire system might be in disrepair, Stubbs assures the rest of the group that he can fix the system and get them to Auberon.

After first interrogating Cire, the group returns to the surface. They travel to the first tower of the wire system and are attacked by the skeletons, though Calaria fends them off with Ifrit. Once the next tower is raised by Stubbs, they enter the carriage and discover Lich inside. Though Lich proves a difficult foe, Stubbs blows a hole in the back of the carriage and the demon falls out.

Chapter 4: Bearers of Fate

Chapters in Final Fantasy OG III archive

1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Vorpal

The mountain gap known as Barren was aptly named. Nothing grew in what would be best described as a canyon, carved out of the mountains towering to either side by a river none now remember. Four black Chocobos ran across the scorching sand that lined the bottom of the valley. The sands of Barren gave the ground a relatively uniform level surface that allowed for the Chocobos to make excellent distance in the time the group had been traveling. The gap of Barren seemed to vary from a few hundred feet in width to sometimes a few miles, but the basic features of the land remained the same. Namely: no features, except for the sand and the slight changes in the sides of the mountains. However, Barren had so far been simple to navigate. There were no forks, and the three travelers continued on unheeded.

"I have yet to see one desert plant or animal upon entering this God-forsaken place," Civan observed.

"Perhaps that's why the Caliph had called this place the valley of the dead," Calaria said.

"Nuthin' cain't die unless it first be alive. Though, one o' us doesn't have that problim, 'eh?"

Imajin scoffed.

The first night the four made camp in a relatively narrow gap that seemed to be able to provide some shelter. During the day, Barren was hotter than any of the three had ever experienced in their lives, except for Stubbs. "I've been in engines hotter'n this place," he would say. As hot as Barren was in the day, the night brought with it a deathly cold. Stubbs built a fire, Imajin prepared food, Civan fed the Chocobos, and Calaria replenished their water supply with a few well placed Ice spells.

"The desert seem to just go on and on. There's nothing different at all. Just mountains and sand." Calaria was speaking aloud her thoughts, not necessarily directed toward one of her two companions.

"It's not as bad as you made it out to be, Civan" Imajin mused, "Sure, it's a bit hotter than what I'm used to, but we've been properly prepared. We'll make it through this canyon in no time flat. Valley of the dead my-- What is it Stubbs?"

As Imajin had gone on his mini-rant, Stubbs stood up and peered out into the distance, in the ever-increasing darkness of night. "I think ah see a laight," Stubbs said.

Civan, Calaria and Imajin turned and strained their eyes in the direction Stubbs was staring. Sure enough, a faint red glimmer danced in the distance against the mountainside.

"What could it be?" Calaria swallowed a sense of dread.

"Perhaps it's the settlement," Civan offered.

"Odd," Imajin said.

"What would be so odd about that?" Calaria asked.

"There are no caravan trails, or any trails for that matter, in this gorge. Could a town thrive in such a wasteland as Barren?"

"Maybe, they just connect themselves with Auberon?" Calaria said.

"Something just doesn't add up," Imajin said, "It looks like the light is not an hour's ride from here. The sands have been completely level, I do not think we need to fear our Chocobos misstepping in the darkness."

Stubbs was already packing their supplies back up. "Once we git closer, we should approach caref'ly. We don't know if whoever is out there is friendly er not."

"Good idea," Civan concurred.

The four once again mounted their Chocobos, despite the black birds' objections. They quickly quieted down, and began their pursuit of the red glowing light. The light drew closer than Imajin had predicted. Fifteen minutes into their ride, they slowed down to a trot. Stubbs readied his shotgun just in case. The canyon made a slight turn to the west, providing some cover that the group used to their advantage by hugging close to the steep mountainside. As they slowly continued, the light grew brighter and illuminated not only the mountain side, but the ruins of a small town. Scattered about were the remains of buildings long ago deserted and left for naught. Entire sections were missing, and sometimes lying strewn about the sands. What seemed to be a section of roof jutted out in front of the. Had they been moving any faster around the bend, they would have ran into it. They used the roof as cover, dismounted their Chocobos and peered around the makeshift barrier.

In what used to be the center of the now decimated town, a large bonfire burned, the source of flickering red light impressed upon the canyon walls. Gathered around the bonfire and among the scattered ruins were hundreds, perhaps thousands of people, chanting, but none of the four could make out what they were saying. After a minute or two, a figure in white armor stood up on top a fallen structure above the throng. He signaled for silence, and it the chanting lowered to a murmur.

The white figure raised his arms and shouted in a deep booming voice, "I am Gorgoth the Destroyer! Gorgoth of the Magic Hand!"

To this pronouncement the crowds cheered and chanted even louder than before. It now occurred to the three, that they had previously been chanting the name "Gorgoth," and they continued still. However, a loud cry, almost a howl, bellowed over and overtook the chanting. A small contingent within the mass began to chant another name: Markot.

A figure in a white helmet, but covered in a darker armor stood upon another ruin and proclaimed, "For too long have you ruled, Gorgoth! I, Markot the Fierce, challenge you!" With his challenge, Markot lifted a formidable axe, and his faction of supporters cheered loudly.

The mass at the border of Gorgoth and Markot supporters began to break out in an all out fight, but Gorgoth responded again in a booming voice, and all stopped to listen, "Very well!" Cheers in both camps came, and a fighting area was quickly carved among the crowds. Gorgoth and Markot made their way to the center of the ring.

Imajin whispered to the others, "The crowds seem to be distracted by this fight. We could try to take a closer look. See, there are some more ruins we can still hide behind, only a few feet from the masses."

Imajin made his way without waiting for reply. The other three followed suit. From their new vantage point, they could more clearly make out Gorgoth and Markot, their faces still obscured by their armor. Gorgoth wore a white armor, lined with a light red along the seams. He had taken for himself, a weapon to oppose Markot's axe, a warhammer. Markot, however, wore a shining white helmet, and the rest of his armor was covered with furs and pelts of animals that could not possibly be from this area. Imajin had seen no living thing until he came across these men.

"Something seems odd about those two, but I can't quite place my finger on it," Calaria whispered. She was not heard by the crowd. Factions chanted the names of Gorgoth and Markot.

A loud howl sounded the start of the fight. Markot rushed toward Gorgoth prepared for a mighty downstroke with his axe. Gorgoth side-stepped, and countered with his warhammer, which made contact with Markot's left arm, causing it to fly off. Calaria gasped and averted her eyes, but only for a second. From Gorgoth's hand came a bright white light that directly hit Markot. Markot disintegrated in the light, and a moment later, all that was left of Markot were his furs and axe, lying discarded on the ground.

A roar rose up from the crowd. "Gorgoth of the Magic Hand! Gorgoth the Destroyer!" the throng cried. Gorgoth uncovered his head from the hood that had hid it previously. For the first time Imajin, Stubbs, Civan, and Calaria got a good look at Gorgoth. Calaria screamed. Stubbs tried to quiet her, but despite the cheering masses, she was heard. The crowd silenced itself to nothing.

Above the silence, Gorgoth proclaimed, "Who dares intrude upon the Sanctuary of the Damned?" Without bothering for an answer, he rushed upon the ruin which the group hid behind. The crowds parted to let Gorgoth through. Gorgoth slowed his pace, and made deliberate steps forward.

Stubbs stepped out from behind the ruin, with his shotgun posed ready, "Back yeh demon!" Civan followed with his pistol, and then Imajin and Calaria, knife and rapier at the ready.

Gorgoth stopped. A moment he stood erect, not moving. His eyes, or rather, where his eyes would have been, stared blankly in their direction, for his entire face was missing. Only a sun-bleached skull remained. "What do mortals have to do with the damned? Do you dare challenge Gorgoth the Destroyer?" The group now noticed the throng of men now, surrounding them, were all skeletons as well. Gorgoth made a signal to his followers, "I shall deal with them! Let them experience the Magic Hand!"

The skeletal mass began chanting again. The three braced themselves for possible disintegration. White light proceeded from Gorgoth's hand, and struck the three.

"Am I still alive?" Imajin asked.

"O' course yer still alive, kinda," Stubbs said, "Am I still alive?"

"I actually feel better than I did," Calaria noted.

"What!?" Gorgoth exclaimed, "How did you withstand my Koraga attack? That is instant un-death to any it touches!"

"D'ya mean 'Curaga?'" Stubbs asked, "Y'mean, yer a... White Mage?"

"Death Mage!" Gorgoth cursed. His skeletal supporters who were only moments before, fully behind him after his defeat of Markot, were now beginning to grumble among themselves. "No matter!" Gorgoth screamed, "I shall just kill you the old fashioned way!" Gorgoth lifted his warhammer, and rushed the group.

Gorgoth cut his attack short, for just then, the ground began to quake under foot. The skeletal mass whispered, "Barren Worm," and they began to disperse until all left were Gorgoth and the four.

"Barren Worm?" Imajin asked.

For the first time, Gorgoth sounded frightened, "The eater of the dead."

A huge creature burst forth from the ground, spraying sand and debris into the air. It rose above the five twenty or more meters into the air. A terrible worm, plated in several segments each about a meter in width, ending in a mouth of hundreds of rows of teeth and tentacles.

"Not only are we cursed to roam the earth with no memory of our mortal life, but he left this foul beast to torment us in our un-death," Gorgoth wailed to the skies.

"He?" Civan asked.

Gorgoth did not answer, but turned around and addressed the group, "Strange mortals. I know not why my Magic Hand has an opposite effect on you, as it does the Barren Worm, but I implore you. If you can defeat this worm, and free my brethren from it's tyranny, Gorgoth the Destroyer will aide you in any way he can!"

Leaving little time for any of the four to object, the Barren Worm attacked, by crashing its massive head directly into the fray, and burrowing into the ground again. The impact sent all five flying in different directions. As the Barren Worm burrowed, a great arch made itself open to attack, moving from one hole to the next. Civan attacked with his saber, and Calaria tried using a Fire attack, but it all seemed completely ineffective. The massive worm continued to burrow as if nothing happened. The head revealed itself again from a third hole. Imajin tried attacking the head with his Chackram, but it did little damage at best.

The head rose again to about 20 meters, but this time spewed out an acid that hit all three mortal party members, as well as Imajin. The head did not wait, but burrowed itself in another whole. Now two worm arches were raised above the desert.

The acid ate away at the flesh, paralyzing and greatly harming the group.

Calaria cried out, "Gorgoth! Use your Magic Hand on us!"

Gorgoth the Destroyer shifted uncomfortably, "But, White Magic is deadly! My people call it Death Magic."

"White Magic heals us, Gorgoth!" Calaria eeked out, despite the pain of the acid.

Gorgoth steadied himself and again casted the spell Koraga. The acid dissipated, and the wounds of the group healed.

"We still have to take out this worm," Civan called out.

As if on cue, from the first hole the worm came out of, the end part, the tail came following. At the end of the tail looked to be a soft spot in the armor of the worm.

"Focus your attack on the tail," Civan called tot he group again. With all their powerful attacks, including Gorgoth's warhammer, they trained all their attacks on the tail as it was visible. With a final shot from Stubbs' shotgun, the soft spot burst open, and a terrible wail shook the earth. Again, the worm broke through the sand, shrieking in agony. It flailed and thrashed, but eventually it fell to the ground, and died.

Daylight broke over the canyon walls. Gorgoth the Destroyer replaced his hood, hiding his skeletal head. "Thank you, flesh warriors, for saving my people, but now I must leave this place."

The four stood dumbfounded, wondering what Gorgoth could possibly be talking about.

Gorgoth, realizing that an explanation was in order, tried to give it as best he could. "The damned that live here, are the corpses of those who once lived here, when trade flowed freely through this canyon. That may have been a hundred years ago or more. Time means little to the dead. None here know of our true past, which is why we are so named 'The Damned.' We know not why we have been raised, either. We established our own customs, the strongest lead, and I, being gifted with the Magic Hand, the white magic, quickly destroyed all my adversaries and attained the title of Gorgoth the Destroyer. But now, I must leave this place, because I have interfered in mortal affairs, making me unfit to rule. Farewell."

Gorgoth began to walk away. Imajin shrugged, "Good riddance," he said under his breath.

"Wait," Calaria called, "why not come with us? We could use a healer! You came in handy with that worm's acid."

Gorgoth slowly turned around, "Gorgoth the Destroyer... a healer? Surely you jest!"

"Yer, still pretty 'ffective wit' that hammer in destroyin' things," Stubbs interjected.

Gorgoth considered the offer for a moment, "I did say I would aide you, and if my Death Hand provides you assistance... even if it is not in exactly the way I would wish, aide you, I shall."

The five returned to the Chocobos, Calaria offered Gorgoth her Chocobo, and rode along with Civan. They continued on their way through the Barren Desert, past the ruined remains that constituted the Sanctuary of the Damned.

Luiigii of the Pipes

As the midday sun slammed the sands of Barren anew, Stubbs's rifle fired a fourth time, the sound echoing through the canyon and joining its brethren, the previous three shots. He strode up to the rest of the group a moment later and gave a nod to Imajin. "Sorry 'bout the birdies, boss. Yeh didn' get yer money's worth."

"It is not the money that concerns me, Stubbs," Imajin said.

Gorgoth stirred. "I eased their pain as best I could. At least, I think I did. I'm so used to inciting pain..." He sighed and glared at his gauntlets. "I did wonder why the magic never hurts me. This armor is supposed to absorb healing spells, unless it has lost its function in the last few centuries. But I still didn't understand why I could use Koraga on myself."

Civan shrugged off his pack and sat down on it. "What now, then? Can we afford to make stops in this heat, or do we need to keep moving?"

Unfortunately, the extent of Imajin's desert travels had been conducted on a caravan or on a Chocobo. He was hoping that common sense would prevail upon him once they reached this point, but he himself wasn't feeling a sense of danger and couldn't make a decision. Perhaps it was madness to have charged into this country with three companions whose hearts still beat, but he had fallen for the hand of fate. A man of the damned passing through the valley of the damned had an almost poetic necessity to it...

"The desert heat will sap at our strength whether we are moving or not. We might as well make good use of it before it is gone." They nodded in consent.

Traversing Barren had also been complicated by the presence of Gorgoth's former followers. Without the Destroyer to lead them, the thousands had departed from the Sanctuary of the Damned to await the rise of a new leader. The few that the group had encountered so far were more than eager to get some revenge on the death mage for all the Koragas they had ever been hit with.

Calaria went to pass Imajin a canteen of melting ice. He was about to pass it up, then stopped himself at the realization that he hadn't had a drink in the last 24 hours. Both Civan and Gorgoth had been watching him closely; now was perhaps not the best time to reveal his secret. Besides, it would make his situation all the more disturbing if he started giving up the aspects of existence that made him human. If he was still human...

Imajin sipped as lightly of the water as he could, unwilling to waste resources that could go to others. Stubbs caught on and elbowed Imajin hard in the side, snatching the water from his hands and demanding that he learn to ration. Imajin nodded in mock shame and quickened his pace, accelerating a ways ahead of the group.

Not long after, Gorgoth was beside him. "It's odd, no?" he said. "I know the heat's there, but I just can't make myself feel it. I guess it's something of a quirk of the afterlife in life. You know?"

"I can st--I can feel the heat," Imajin replied. "No, I don't."

"Your group amazes me, Mr. Imajin. This is your third day in Barren, isn't it? No one of my former servants ever made it past two, they tell me."

"I'm surprised Civan has come this far. Truvia is only warm during its summer, and even then barely. This must be rather hard on him."

"Ah, but he has loved ones on the other side, he tells me. He has motivation." Gorgoth peered behind himself, then cleared his throat with an odd rattling. "Ah, he has also hit the floor."

Imajin whirled. Civan was laying in the sand some distance back, Stubbs and Calaria standing over him. As Imajin rushed forward, Calaria collapsed as well. "Stubbs!"

"Mm okay..." the mechanic mumbled, turning to Imajin. "Engines wuz never this hot, boss. Shrackin' engines wuz always shrackin' fanned 'n' shrackin' shrack with a shrack, y'shraaaaaaa--" He pitched into Imajin's arms.

"Gorgoth!" Imajin shouted, turning to the skeleton. "Use your magic, NOW!"

Gorgoth nodded, his eye sockets fixed on Imajin. "You might want to back up, then." Imajin nodded sharply and complied. The three before him were encased in a green light, which soaked into their bodies at a slow pace. "I've never had to, ah, heal heat stroke before. The best I can do is stabilize them. We might want to cure them by the conventional methods."

"Of course we do!" Imajin fumbled through his memory. Shade would be useful, at least until night came. And water shouldn't be given to them directly, he remembered. "We need a shelter. And, ah..." Imajin grabbed his old, torn shirt from his pack and started tearing it into strips. Gorgoth took a glance at the giant slash in the center, but said nothing. Imajin pried his canteen from Stubbs's fingers and dipped the strips in. "Shelter, man!"

Gorgoth turned and gazed at the canyon wall across from them. An untrained eye wouldn't have noticed it, but Gorgoth did immediately. With the Barren Worm a constant threat in his life, he had learned how to spot its camouflaged caves early on in his afterlife... "This way, then." He tossed Civan over one shoulder and Stubbs over the other, then started off toward the cave. Imajin wrapped one of the soaked rags around Calaria's mouth, then picked her up and followed.

The cave was indeed cooler, as far as Imajin could tell, though to be quite honest he hadn't found the desert all that hot either... He followed Gorgoth a ways in and then set the girl down next to the other two, pulling out rags to hydrate Stubbs and Civan. "With the Barren Worm dead, we should be safe," Gorgoth said. "What little does survive in this valley is smart enough not to go near the caves. Unless, ha ha, there were two of them..." He whirled on the spot and looked further into the cave, then turned back and visibly relaxed. "Guess not. So..." Gorgoth sat down on a rock and put his arms behind his head. "How long you been undead?"

Imajin sighed. "Yes I suppose this proves it, does it not?"

"How did you feel at first?"

"Confused. Then intrigued. Now rather freakish."

"Can't say anyone else did, 'specially not intrigued. But you can pass for human, too. You're not even green."

"Yet."

"Maybe you won't go that far."

"I wish I could say that for certain. But seeing your lot, no offense, I have lost a good bit of hope for myself."

Gorgoth nodded, careful not to let his head fall off. "Well, we all die sometime. At least you get an adjustment period."

"Ha."

The mage stood back up. "Let me see what I can do for your friends again. Why don't you keep watch?"

Imajin nodded and proceeded back up the cave. What could Gorgoth know, though? He wasn't even aware of how he had become a skeleton. And he had been dead for so long, could he even remember what it was like to be alive? Imajin dropped down at the entrance and scowled. If he ever found that red-eyed man again...

The merchant's musings were broken by the sound of a caravan. Imajin looked up in surprise; it felt like it had been forever since he heard one. A bit of listening more, Imajin realized that something was wrong. The caravan sounded rather decrepit, and he could only hear one of the rovers, if indeed there were more than one. As the noise grew to a crescendo, it suddenly cut out altogether, and was replaced by a single steady hum. Imajin peered past the cave's maw and saw a flash of gold, followed by a streak of black and an explosion of red...

Kinoko

Calaria woke up. The last thing she remembered was being really hot, and drained. Despite having to drink the melted ice she had conjured, it had also drained her magic reserves to dangerous levels.

"Miss Calaria," a husky feminine voice called to her. Calaria sat up and looked in the direction of the voice and there stood the goddess of ice, Shiva. "You and your companions are travelling Barren, are you not? I can provide my assistance..."

"Shiva," the summoner said, "I am honored to be having your assistance, but I can't use my summoning powers now."

"Ahh... Hal'amek..." the ice Djinni sighed.

Calaria gasped. "You've heard of Hal'amek, too?"

"Why yes," Shiva said. "A white mage by the name of Maina summoned me. Now she didn't call for me purposefully--"

"Maina!?" Calaria cried out. "That's... the name of my mother!"

"No wonder your aura felt so familiar..." Shiva murmured. "In desperation, she called me. Not on her own free will, however. Her soul was pleading for help, and I came to her aid. I dealt a heavy blow to Hal'amek, and that's how he became intrigued by our power, I would think."

"Shiva!" Calaria said, "was there a black mage too?"

"I really can't say..." the ice goddess murmured. "It was so long ago."

"Mother... Father..." the summoner murmured, despair in her voice. No. They still had to be alive... But the knowledge she carried now...

She didn't want to leave this world.

Lupus

Imajin launched himself back into the cave's entrance, a second before the shell hit. He hit the ground with his side, and raised his arms to his face as waves of sand and pieces of rock flew like shrapnel through the enclosed space. He waited momentarily for the extreme heat a blast like that would bring, but it never came. Realizing why, he got to his feet and glanced back down the tunnel.

The whir of an engine increased in volume behind him, and he knew that any second, whatever it was that was firing on him would be at the entrance. Unless some convenient exit existed at the back of the cave, their only option then would be to fight their way out. An option that, granted, didn't seem so daunting now that even the blast as powerful as that had barely affected him.

"Gorgoth!" he yelled, hoping the other could hear him down the far end of the cave. That explosion surely would have alerted him, at least, and he expected his face to appear from around the corner any second.

Instead, there was a mighty crash behind him as the tank reached its destination. The tracks of a massive war vessel perched itself over the rim of the cave, filtering the sunlight flowing in. For such a technologically advanced machine, it looked ancient and dilapidated, as if it had been sitting in the desert for years. In any other situation, Imajin would have found the sight astonishing and worthy of inspection. But as the large cannon at the front of the machine swivelled to face him, he thought better of it and took to the shadows.

A distorted female voice crackled out of the vehicle. "I saw you, Osyllian! Come out and I won't have to do any hurting..."

Imajin glanced behind him to the path leading further down. Where was that blasted walking skeleton?

"What are you trying to do, guy?" the voice crackled again. "I saw you! I'm being nice here, see. I could just fire until this cave falls on top of your head but I thought I'd take the more civil route. The least you could do is return the favour."

As if to prove her point, the tank fired another shell directly into the cave. It hit the wall directly next to where Imajin stood in the shadows, throwing yet another wave of debris over him. As little as the explosion did to him, he realized the truth in her words: a few more hits like that and the cave would come crashing down. Without thinking further, he stepped out.

"That's it! Now stay right there. 'N drop your weapons while you're at it..."

Gritting his teeth, he obligingly reached down to unhook the chackrams from his belt, but at the last instant thought better of it. The recent revelations that his body could withstand more than any normal mortal's could had given him a renewed sense of vigour. Who was this woman to tell him what to do? Of course, she definitely had quite a large bargaining chip, what with the safety of his friends hinging entirely on whether or not she decided to push a button a few times. But such logic didn't cross the merchant's mind, and instead he was overtaken with arrogance. He took his hands away from his weapons.

The woman audibly sighed. "So, it's going to be that way, is it? Ah well, I guess some money is better than no money."

The nozzle swivelled again, but Imajin expected it to. He turned and bounded back down the passageway, dusting his clothes off as he ran.

Behind him the machine fired several more times, shaking the entire cave violently. But then the explosions were followed by a series of clicks. "Ah, rats."

The tank hatch flipped open, and a silver-haired woman pulled herself out of it, dragging a giant axe behind her. The tunnel Imajin had fled down was just a bit too small to drive a huge war machine down, but an axe would serve nearly as well.

Running in the dark served just as hard as it sounded; Imajin nearly tripped several times, and grazed his arms and legs on jutting pieces of rock several times more. He didn't feel any pain, of course, and he hoped sincerely that the same obstacles were giving his pursuer a much bigger problem.

He arrived at where he had left Gorgoth and the others, to find it completely empty.

"Gorgoth! Where are you?"

"Who the heck is Gorgoth? ...Ow!" came the woman's voice from the tunnel behind him, now devoid of any mechanical crackling.

He didn't wait for her to arrive to tell her. Instead he ran forward in the almost pitch blackness. His friends certainly hadn't passed him, so they must've been further along. But how far the tunnel went, and how they managed to get through it in absolute darkness was beyond him. He groped the walls and ran along as fast as he could, mentally trying to remember his path.

Then he placed his foot into thin air, and fell.

He fell for such a long time, that his mind had the time to comprehend just what exactly had happened. He braced himself for the impact, maybe death, but that quickly faded as he realized he was immune from it. And even after that, he still had the time to ponder if his friends had suffered the same fate, and whether or not he'd find them in pieces at the very bottom of the shaft.

He hit the ground hard, and extreme pain coursed through him. But death did not follow it, or even unconsciousness. The pain vanished as quickly as it had come and he got to his feet, holding his hand out to find the wall.

It was a few seconds later when he realized he had been shutting his eyes tightly. He opened them, expecting the familiar darkness, but instead found himself in a perfectly circular room lit by torches that hung on brackets nailed into the walls. Across from him, a giant, perfectly circular gate sealed the way down a similarly perfectly circular passage that sloped downwards into the earth. He glanced up, hoping to see where he fell from, but the lights didn't stretch that far.

Glancing around at the floor around him, he gave a sigh of relief; no other bodies lay broken at his feet. As much as this did to ease his mind, it did nothing to solve the mystery of his friends' whereabouts. But this place was clearly populated by someone - the torches on the walls and the gate proved that - and he hoped that whoever it was that lived down here was a little more amiable than the woman in the tank.

"Aha!" a voice echoed through the room. Imajin was relieved to notice it was not the tank woman, but instead that of a man's, and a rather gruff sounding one at that. "We have a visitor. Why didn't you use the main entrance?"

Imajin looked around for the source of the voice, but saw no one. "I didn't know there was one."

"Very strange coming in from Angragandr's pit. I expect that fall hurt quite a bit."

"Less than you'd think."

There was a loud clunk as the gate opened slowly. Standing on the other side was a very short man with a very long beard. He wore dirty mining gear and a brown leather coif atop his head.

"Greetings then," he said, rushing forward to shake Imajin's hand. "My name is Thirithufth, Jötunngæta of the dwarves."

The taller took his hand and shook it. "Imajin."

"It's not often I get to meet new people... they don't usually come down this way."

"Not surprising. There isn't exactly a staircase."

Thirithufth peered up into the darkness, nodding. "Well, it isn't really made for us." The dwarf looked back at Imajin. "Come on; let's get out of this pit before she returns."

The dwarf scurried back along the large circular tunnel, downwards. Imajin followed instinctively. "Before what returns?"

"We call her Angragandr. The scourge of the desert."

"The Barren Worm?" Imajin asked, incredulous.

The dwarf nodded. "I've heard some call her that."

"And it lives here? In this tunnel?"

"At times. And that is why we must leave, or she may eat us! We dwarves treat our prisoners better than that."

Imajin stopped walking. "Prisoner?"

Thirithufth stopped too, and looked around. "Ah yes," he nodded, a glum look on his face. "Unfortunately, you are my prisoner. It's just how things are done around here, you see." He saw the other reach for his chackrams. "Don't be alarmed! It's merely a precaution. We run a very detailed operation here, and you just fell out of the sky. And we can't just have people falling out of the sky, you know."

Imajin slowly took his hands from his sides. "I don't expect I stand much chance against a whole colony of dwarves in any case."

Thirithufth started walking again, beckoning the other to follow. They reached the end of the corridor of stone a few minutes later and the dwarf turned to pull a lever that closed a pair of gates behind them. "That's that dealt with."

"I don't think she's coming back anyway."

The dwarf looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

Imajin chose his words carefully. If it turned out this worm was highly regarded and liked by the dwarves, and he admitted to aiding in its defeat, he didn't like his chances. "If we are talking about the same thing, then it's lying dead in the middle of the desert. It was killed."

"Are... are you sure?"

"Big huge worm thing, lots and lots of teeth and tentacles? It's dead."

Thirithufth shook his head, and he stared into the ground. "This is unfortunate. But it was inevitable, we expected it would happen eventually... they must have got him..." He looked back up at Imajin. "Come then, Imajin. You must tell Old Nerrick what you have seen. He will know what to do." He indicated a short ladder up to a much smaller, more dwarf sized passage in the rock. Imajin climbed up first, and squeezed through.

He came out on top of a balcony, overlooking a massive cavern, miles wide, carved from the rock. Everything below, from the countless dwarven buildings to the streets and alleys seemed similarly carved from the earth and mountain, brilliantly designed and bustling with tiny people.

Thirithufth appeared from the hole seconds later, and looked down with pride, glad at the chance of being able to show a newcomer the first glance at his home. "This is our colony. We quite like it, to say the least..."

"What do you do here?" Imajin asked, still entranced.

"What does any dwarf like to do?" Thirithufth smiled. "Come, Imajin, we must see Old Nerrick."

Masamune

To say Nerrick was old was an understatement. He was positively ancient. Trapped in his throne, he was very much like a stone statue. Unlike humans who become soft and worn when they get older, dwarves harden like stone and find it more difficult to move as a result. Such was the case with Nerrick whose legs no longer moved, his hands had limited movement, and his neck was completely rigid.

Mostly he slept. Sometimes for weeks at a time, because dwarves are very industrious people and rarely need interference from a leader. But his dreams were great and with his one good hand, he would create such blueprints that exemplified his centuries of experience.

"Rally ho!" Thirithufth greeted as he approached Old Nerrick. Imajin stood behind him, not sure of what the appropriate thing was to do. As a merchant, he usually made sure to study a new culture before interacting with them.

"Hummmmmm...." Nerrick mumbled unintelligibly. His hand was quivering with a pen in it over some paper. Imajin couldn't make it out, but it appeared to be a complex blueprint for an underwater machine. It occurred to him that seemed rather useless in a desert.

"[i]Rally Ho![/i]" Thirithufth repeated, seemingly undeterred by Nerrick's lack of attention. Apparently the old dwarf was still asleep.

"Hmmm? Ohh...." Nerrick's eyes blinked in confusion as he tried to discern who he was looking at. "Ahh yes... Nrethuff. Rally ho."

Thirithufth shook his head. "No. It's Thirithufth, your great-grandson. Nrethuff is your son."

Nerrick seemed to consider this carefully. "Hmmmm ah yes. Of course, of course." He furrowed his brow as he regarded the tall (by dwarven standards) stranger next to him. "Who is this, Nrethuff?"

The younger dwarf calmly ignored that his grandfather mistook him again. "This is Imajin. He comes from the desert."

"Not this desert," Imajin noted. "With respect."

"Ohhh.... isn't that nice....." Nerrick said as he slumbered off to sleep.

Thirithufth coughed. "He has news of the Barren Worm."

Nerrick's eyes opened groggily. "Lil' Barry? How... how is she?"

"I'm sorry... she's dead," Imajin said apprehensively. It was no use lying about it, the other dwarf already had his suspicions. One they talked to Gorgoth's old followers... "They... my companions and I were attacked. We defended ourselves."

"Ohhh... such a pity," Nerrick said sadly. If there was any trace of anger or resentment, Imajin couldn't detect it. "I did try to tell her... always such a spoiled thing."

"What shall we do with the prisoner?" asked Thirithufth.

By then Nerrick was too busy mumbling sadly to himself and drifting back to sleep. Seeing no more use in bothering his ancestor, the younger dwarf escorted Imajin out. He seemed somewhat agitated about what had just went on. While it was true that nobody ever wanted to be the dwarven king, it did annoy most dwarves that their king was so ineffectual. But since nobody wanted the job, no one every said anything about it.

"Well you'll be staying here a few days," Thirithufth said. "Until some of our lads go and check out the Barren worm and we confer with old Nerrick a bit longer... which will take awhile."

"I can't stay here," Imajin interjected. "My friends-" Then it dawned on him. His friends! "They were up there in the cave! That woman with the tank may have found them!"

Thirithufth shook his head. "There's nothing for it now. If they turn up here, then you'll know about it. But we can't afford the manpower to organize a search party."

The Osyllian was silent. He had no option at the moment, he would just have to hope Stubbs and the others were okay.

"Well come on now human," Thirithufth continued. "Don't be glum. We don't have any proper dungeons here, so we'll get you set up Dilson's. It's not often she gets someone for her spare room."

As they walked down the path, through bridges and passageways, Imajin noted the irony of how he was that much taller than the dwarves. Some of the caves had low ceilings and he found himself stooping to get through. He had never been concerned at his small stature, but it did make him feel a tiny bit better to actually be tall.

Too bad it never happened while he was still alive.

Luiigii of the Pipes

Thirithufth closed the door on Imajin without so much as a parting word. There was not the click of a lock or the sliding of large stones; when the sound of footsteps disappeared, Imajin snatched for the door handle. A handaxe buzzed past his face and embedded itself deep within door and frame, holding the former shut.

"'e told yeh not ta do that," a deep, though feminine voice rumbled behind him.

Imajin turned to face Dilson; she seemed fairly average as far as dwarves went, complete with full length beard, leather and chainmail clothing, and mining helmet. On the other hand, her beard had been interwoven with a series of gems that Imajin easily recognized as pink quartz and opal, and her clothes seemed a lot more chainmail than leather... "I...was under the impression that he is not the boss around here."

"Lousy lie." Dilson stepped past Imajin and yanked the axe free, then opened the door and waved him out. "Yeh wanna do this or what?"

"...What?"

"Suit yerself."

"I am sorry. Were you not told to keep me here?"

"Oh, aye. Load a rubbish, though. Yer friends're in trouble, aye? So ah'm organizin' a search party...o' two." She grabbed a mining helmet from a shelf and handed it up to him.

Imajin stared at the helmet. Was this some sort of test? He had been fully prepared to spend the next few days trying to sneak off knowing full well that he wouldn't get far, but just hoping that he could get far enough to find them. This came as a shock of its own.

Dilson struck him across the face with the helmet, almost knocking him to the ground. He quickly stood back upright, then grabbed his nose and twisted it back into place before the dwarf could question. "Take it already! Meh arm's gettin' tired!" Imajin did as commanded, strapping it on with sudden deftness that came from a desire not to get clubbed again. "Ah'll go first n' find a path. If any the other dwarves catch yeh, yeh prob'ly won't be stayin' in me cozy home no more." She darted out and down a tunnel until she had reached a bend, then turned back and waved for him to follow.

They continued this way for some time, dodging light where they could and circling through the underground until Imajin was undoubtedly lost. When the darkness became too thick for his eyes, Dilson always ran back and took him by the hand, leading him with her own enhanced vision. Sometimes...she gripped a little too tightly for his tastes...

When they had finally left the winding passages of the dwarven city, Dilson flicked on her helmet's light and nodded for Imajin to do the same. It didn't much make a difference; all that Imajin could see was rocks, but at least it kept him from running into the walls. Dilson, however, seemed to relish the lighted halls. Like most of her species, her eyes were wide with the prospect of a certain sparkle...

It had been hours before they finally found any sort of sparkle. And it was not at all the kind Dilson craved. This sparkle came from, of all things, an ice sculpture. It was sitting in the center of a cross-section of tunnels, dripping very slowly in the cool air of the sunless turf. Imajin approached it first, lack of regard for his own life making the action that much easier. From up close he could see that there was more to the sculpture than ice...

The woman who had been chasing him was the base of the statue. He could just make out her face against the reflection of his helmet's light; the eyes were closed in a restful sort of way, but she did appear to be moving. She was very softly breathing; clouds formed around her mouth from inside the structure as hot and cold clashed. When Imajin had failed to die gruesomely in any sort of way, Dilson approached too and mumbled under her breath. "Bad luck, eh? This one o' yer pallies?"

"No..."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Imajin glanced over at Dilson; the voice had seemed to be her's, but wasn't quite... He turned to follow Dilson's own gaze to a blue-skinned woman standing a few meters back.

"But that hardly means I can trust you, hmm?" the woman continued. She strode forward, icy puddles appearing under each step. "I am looking for Calaria Negime. If you mean her any harm, I warn you now that you face the same fate as this woman behind you. She will live, and so would you, but it would be a very...uncomfortable few days, hmm?"

"And how would I prove this to you?" Imajin asked. "You have already said that you do not trust us yet... Shiva, why are you looking for Calaria?"

Shiva's eyes brightened. "Ah, you know of djinni. Calaria is in trouble, but she refused to summon me for aid. It's made locating her...difficult."

"Summon...?"

"Ah know these tunnels," Dilson said, axe held over her shoulder in what appeared to be a casual pose, but would most likely allow her to throw it without any foresign of doing so. "If yeh have a gen'ral idea..."

"I'm sure you do..." Shiva lifted her chin with a snide expression, then cracked a smile. "I didn't sense the cold frost of hatred on your hearts when I spoke her name. I suspect I can trust you both. Quickly then, dwarf. I suspect she is in a cave with water...and Malboros."

Lupus

Through hundreds more identical tunnels the trio passed, the silence only broken by the female dwarf's occasional mumbling to herself as she attempted to remember the way. Imajin tagged behind in sort of a sloppy stumble; despite the dim light of his helmet, the hastily hollowed-out tunnels were filled with bumpy rocks and tiny passages evidently meant for dwarfs only, and even more possibly designed by the legs and claws of the multitude of creatures that also survived and lived beneath the surface.

The unearthly djinn was next behind him, but unlike Imajin she seemed unaffected by the increasingly difficult ramble. Her ethereal gait gave the appearance of sailing over the ground rather than walking, and several times Imajin thought he saw her seemingly pass through a jutting rock as if she was a mere projection. But, he didn't pretend to know much about djinns and their powers, so such a trait was entirely plausible in his mind. A trait he bitterly wished he shared, as he hit his head on a low hung rock and nearly smashed the light on his helmet.

"Yeh be careful there, eh," said the dwarf after Imajin swore. "Ah think we're nelly there, I can smell it in th' air."

Imajin inhaled deeply to see if he could too, and instantly regretted it. The smell was disgusting, like rotten eggs mixed with sulphur but ten times worse. He glanced over at Shiva, who merely smiled and characteristically showed no signs of discomfort.

Dilson had brought them so far that any sort of mental map Imajin had been making was discarded as futile several hundred identical passageways ago, and he couldn't tell if they had headed higher or lower than their starting point. How his friends could have gotten this far out was beyond him; they wouldn't have roamed this far on their own. If it were him, he would've turned around at the first sniff of the putrid air.

But then the passage opened to reveal their destination. A rather large underground lake - or swamp, as it looked and smelled like - lay ahead of them, too far to cross. A tiny gap in the ceiling far above provided scant sunlight, letting them see nearly as far as the opposite side. Dilson stopped, and glancing out across the dark cavern, put her hands on her tiny hips.

"Well, Ah forgot teh bring proper swimmin' equipment, so Ah hope yeh don' mind gettin' a tad wet."

Imajin was about to respond with something fairly crude, when he stopped. Shiva hadn't halted at the water side like they had, but instead kept walking. Her foot landed on the top of the filthy water and immediately it froze beneath her. Her next foot - another frozen stepping stone. She walked a few meters out, and then stopped to turn.

"Come on, now. We are rescuing Calaria, aren't we?"

Dilson erupted in raucous laughter, then hitching her axe back over her shoulder, delightfully leapt over the frozen iceblocks Shiva had created as fast as her stubby legs could take her.

Imajin followed carefully, knowing full well that one easy slip on the ice could send him into the water. "So, you know where Calaria is, precisely?"

"No, but she's somewhere around here I sense... though her stubbornness in contacting me is leaving me without much of a pinpoint."

"And this contacting thing," Imajin pressed. "How does that work?"

Shiva was silent for a second, thinking as she continued to create the stepping stones. Finally, seemingly deciding on the correct words, she spoke. "When one is in trouble, one summons help."

"Typically not from djinns."

The other smiled. "Typically not. But some are special."

"But for some reason she didn't decide to contact you this time. Why would that be?"

"She is ashamed, I think. Or needlessly worried. She believes she will be hunted, like her mother."

Imajin said nothing. Hearing such intimate details about his new friend made him uneasy. Negime hadn't divulged them herself for a reason, after all.

"So, them Malboros yeh mentioned," Dilson said, as they arrived on the other side of the lake safely. "Righ' down there. At least they were when we last checked. Abou' sev'teen years ago..." She indicated a passage that was slimy green with moss.

Imajin patted his sides for his chackrams, only just then realizing he had had them confiscated on arrival at Dilson's house. "And I expect if we meet any of them who do not like our faces, that axe will be enough to fight them off?"

Dilson lifted her axe to her eyes, and studied it. "Yeh. Looks pretty sturdy." She slung it back over her shoulder and ran down the path.

"You second then," Imajin said to Shiva, who obliged willingly.

The trail was short, and almost as slippery as the frozen stepping stones had been. Imajin dug his fingers into the walls to maintain his balance, making sure each step he took was carefully plotted. At the last moment, the rock beneath his foot crumbled, and he slipped and tumbled down the last few meters to the bottom.

If the previous cave only looked like a swamp, then this was the real deal. The broad cavern that housed a quagmire inside the mountain was entirely green, with moss and sludge covering the walls everywhere Imajin looked. Disgusting creatures slithered around in the sludge ahead, and there, on what appeared to be an island a few meters out in the slime, stood a hunched, hooded figure over an unconscious body.

The hooded figure held a withered, inhuman hand over Calaria, and from his fingertips came wiry lines of grey that seemed to enter the middle of Calaria's forehead and chest. Every few moments, rings of light trailed up them into the figures hand and disappeared. Apart from this, it stood completely motionless.

"Fiend!" Shiva shrieked, and rocketed from the bank of the mire towards the island. The creature looked up instantly, and Imajin caught a glance of its purple ghostly face and clear white eyes before it launched into the air and launched spiralling towards the ceiling. Shiva pursued it with great speed, and they both passed through the rock as if it weren't there and disappeared.

The djinn's screech had done more than serve as an irritant to the merchant and dwarf's ears, from the sounds of the sudden roars and gurgles from beneath the slime. As Dilson and Imajin stood motionless on the shore, green tentacled creatures began to emerge from the mire; their slimy circular bodies looking like a mere afterthought in the presence of their gaping, yellow teeth adorned maws. They had no eyes or ears - at least none Imajin could see behind the chaotic muddle of tentacles that decorated their entire mass - and seemed to go by a mix of vibrations and taste. They slithered and fell over themselves in a desperate attempt to be the first to get their fangs on those who had disturbed their rest.

"This dun' look so good, friend," Dilson stammered, readying her axe.

The Malboro closest to them made a wretched gurgling noise, as it opened its mouth wide. The dwarf made her move; stepping forward, she swung the axe in a wide arc and brought it down on one of the several tentacles the creature used to move, severing it cleanly. Another horrible gurgling sound followed, and Dilson had to quickly retreat out of range as green arms descended upon her like whips.

"Darn this ruddy dwarven body," the dwarf cursed, rushing to Imajin's side. "Ah'll have to git 'em one limb at a time."

"Keep trying," Imajin shouted, eyeing a clean gap between the approaching creatures. "I will get Negime."

Dilson nodded. "Aye, be quick about it, then."

He dived through a steadily narrowing gap between two Malboros, rolling quickly back to his feet. The creatures were too slow, and too dumb to turn to stop him. As much as that stroke of luck let him focus on the task at hand in peace, it just put his dwarf companion in further danger. He hoped desperately that she would be able to fend them off long enough.

With nary a thought to his clothing, he waded into the green bog. Only the thought of an hour long bath when they returned kept him going; the build up of gunk on his clothes made it feel at times as if he was wading through a brick wall. The island was thankfully not that far from the edge, and it only took him a few moments to reach it. He knelt down at the unconscious, ghostly white figure in front of him.

"Negime! Wake up!"

He lifted her wrist to feel her pulse. She was definitely still alive, and as he checked he noticed that the paleness of her arm was quickly being replaced with natural colour, first from the fingertips and then upward. The spell the hooded figure had cast upon her was apparently weakening, and the colour soon spread to her face. She opened her eyes.

"Imajin."

Imajin nodded. "Where is Farfarel? The skeleton? Stubbs?"

"I don't know, I..."

He gritted his teeth. They would be a lot harder to find in this underground maze, without a djinn to help guide them. "Try to remember, then. We have to get out of here."

Calaria shook her head. "We were ambushed by something. That's all I remember. How did you...?"

Imajin grunted, frustrated. He pulled her to her feet and towards the edge of the island. "Then we will go back for now."

He stepped back into the water, beckoning for Calaria to follow. She had noticed the Malboro swarm on the other side, but with no other choice she timidly made pursuit.

"You have got that rapier on you still, right?" the merchant asked.

"I think so," Calaria replied, and quickly checked her person for her wand and rapier. They were still there. "Apparently whatever ambushed us wasn't after our belongings."

"Good," replied Imajin. Without a further word, Calaria knowingly handed the weapon over.

They crawled out onto dry land, considerably dirtier and smellier than usual. Calaria instantly began to summon a spell with her wand, as Imajin leapt back into the fray with the borrowed sword. Though not an expert with a rapier, it was enough - a sharp weapon was a sharp weapon after all - and he soon managed to cut a hole in the circle of Malboros to where Dilson was still admirably brandishing her axe defensively.

"Dwarf! I have got the girl. It is time to go."

Dilson nodded, and with a final swing of her axe to a particularly aggressive Malboro, backed out of the encirclement and towards the path they had come from, just as several large shards of ice, courtesy of Calaria, appeared from nowhere and formed a barrier between the two parties.

"Are you okay?" the mage asked, studying the tiny woman carefully. The dwarf looked drowsy; she coughed and wheezed as she hauled the axe back over her shoulder with obvious difficulty.

"Aye, Ah'll be fine. One of those thin's breathed on me. We've got treatment fer it back home..." She coughed violently again as she lifted herself up the steep passageway.

Calaria looked puzzled. "Home? Where are we?"

"Later," Imajin interrupted. "Go up first. That ice barrier of yours will not last forever."

She nodded and followed the dwarf, Imajin keeping up the rear. The Malboros wouldn't try to pursue them any longer; the passage was far too steep for them, and they were too lazy a beast to bother going to much lengths for a meal. Even as he climbed, Imajin could hear the faint gurgling of their bodies sliding back into the swamp.

A few minutes later and they pulled themselves out at the top, back into the cavern with the large lake.

"So there you are," said a deep voice. Gorgoth stepped into view, his white robe blackened with dirt. Behind him walked the equally dirty and exhausted pair of Civan and Stubbs. "We've been trying to find a way out of this labyrinth for hours now. A fairly hard task when it's pitch black. We heard a scream..."

"Thank Gods for that," Imajin sighed, slumping against the wall.

Civan glanced over at Calaria, furrowing his brow. "It discarded us and took you. Did you know what it was?"

Calaria shook her head, confused. "I don't even remember that far."

"Yer all talkin' 'bout that wraith thin'? It took off when the ice woman wailed."

"Ice woman..." murmed the mage.

"Shiva," said Imajin quickly, his gaze drifting to the ice steps that luckily remained unmelted in the lake. Not that it mattered now, he reminded himself, as he absent mindedly placed his hand by his side and got a fist full of muck. If anything, if he fell in that water and came out again he'd probably be cleaner than he already was.

Calaria had followed his gaze too, and consequently went silent. The merchant decided against an interrogation session just now, and instead turned to the others.

"Why are we standing around in here? The dwarf knows the way back."

"Aye," croaked the dwarf, finishing her study of the walking skeleton and forcing herself to fight back a confrontation with it. She began towards the ice steps. "This way, then."

Masamune

At that moment, Imajin and the others had managed their way back to the dwarven city. Dilson wasted no time in getting them back, much to the expense of Stubbs and Civan's foreheads, who found the low ceilings to be quite a pain (especially Stubbs, who became very vocal about the pain in his back). Gorgoth didn't seem to take much notice of hitting the cave, but he certainly seemed ill at ease in the caverns. He was no stranger to the idea of dwarves living underneath the desert.

They had made it to the city limits, ready to slip unnoticed, when they were halted by a voice familiar to Dilson and Imajin.

"Had some luck, did ye?" Thirithufth asked.

"I can explain-" Imagine started.

"Nay, nay. Forget it," the dwarf said as he waved his hand dismissively. "It's forgotten. It's best we not need to worry about people mucking up in our caves, getting killed by cave-ins."

"Ther's 'nuther headsmacker way back thar," Dilson said as she motioned back to the cave. "Eh, bout cave 39, level hurr... six." She looked up at Imajin. "Six right?"

Imajin blinked. "Uh."

"Yeah. S'bout six," Dilson confirmed. "Take some warm blankets."

Thirithufth raised a brow. "Blankets? Yeah, I'll get some folk on that."

Out stepped Gorgoth, the last of the group who had taken up the rear. Thirithufth immediately readied his axe. "One of the foul ones followed you in!"

Imajin put a hand in front of Gorgoth, "He's with me!"

The dwarf's eyes narrowed as he looked at the skeleton. "Well that about changes things for you lot, doesn't it?"

Imajin didn't like the sound of that. "Beg pardon?"

"Them bony folk ain't none tae pop'lar 'round 'ere," Dilson explained. "They kills any dwarf what decides to go topside. We ain't been in contact with the headsmackers since they've been around."

"Really? You used to be in contact with the other countries?" Civan asked. "Truvia? Auberon?"

"Can't say I'se 'eard of dem," Dilson replied.

"Neither have I," Gorgoth admitted. 'Though there's really nothing I do remember..."

"Not even Old Nerrick was around in the days of trade," Thirithufth explained. "No news ever flows in here."

"None of us have ever knew there were any dwarves here," Civan replied. "There were legends, of course..."

"Ha! You headsmackers'll as soon as forget anything that ain't there everyday," Dilson said.

"You keep saying headsmacker. What does that-" Calaria started.

"It means we get these dese shrackin bumps on our fahr-heads as soon as we walk around here," Stubbs grunted.

"What?"

"Low ceilings," Civan provided.

"Oh..."

"S'bit of jest," Dilson explained. "Still. I ain't got room for all ya'lls."

Thirithufth frowned. "I suppose we'll have to make some other arrangements."

"We can't stay," Civan replied. "We're on our way to the other side of the desert to the north."

"Other side?" Thirithufth said incredulously. "That you're even here is one thing, but to get that far..."

"How did your ancestors do it?" Imajin asked.

"They took the wires of course, but even then..."

"The wires?"

"Oh, aye. Some bigobs out in the desert," Dilson explained. "Used to work swell 'til the bony folk started takin' relay stations. Even if you could fight them off..."

"They're probably in disrepair. It's quality made to be sure, but you'd have to get the engines back up to get to the next station... and do that while not getting killed," Thirithufth glanced at Gorgoth, "by his friends."

"Engine work?" Stubbs said, his eyes perking up. "Shrackin' 'ell, if there's an engine I can't get tae work, den it ain't worth workin' on. Show me one and ae'll get 'er purring prettier'n a coeurl."

Thirithufth seemed unsure about that. "... perhaps... you'd be on your own though. You won't find a dwarf here willing to spend that much time topside. But Old Nerrick..."

"That old stuffer's not gonna care two halves a wit 'bout it," Dilson said as she gave Imajin a sly wink.

"We can handle any of those skeletons that come our way," Imajin said firmly.

Gorgoth nodded. "They still fear the White Hand."

The other dwarf frowned. "Fine. The less time your bony friend is here the better." He turned to Stubbs. "You really think you can work on an engine?"

"'Ell. I was born in 'em," Stubbs replied.

"But not dwarven engines," Thirithufth replied.

"Then I'll walk on my knees," he turned to Calaria and gave a toothy grin. "I'll need someone to oil up my joints, though."

"Yeah. That's not going to happen," Calaria replied, her expression a complete deadpan.

"Shrackin' 'ell."

Luiigii of the Pipes

As Thirithufth explained, the wires were in reference to a series of cables that ran across the desert. They were strung from identical towers that had been placed periodically from one end of the desert to the other; as was the nature of dwarves to keep secrets, such an obvious landmark had been hidden away by burying the towers and their connecting wires in the sand. Each tower held an engine that, when activated, would raise the next tower in the sequence and move an odd sort of carriage hanging from the wires between them, which the operator could ride in. Naturally, four extra engines had been tucked away on either side of Barren and within the city so that the nearest tower(s) could be raised without having to dig into them.

Thirithufth led Stubbs to the engines in the city while the others set about their own duties. Imajin took it upon himself to escort Dilson to the nearest clinic and relieve her of the Malboro's disease; in return she promised to give him a decent tour of the city, including a stop at the local stores for supplies. Before more dwarves could spot him, Gorgoth volunteered to make his way back to the surface and fight off any skeletons in the area. Concerned that too many headsmackers entering the city would cause a scene, Civan and Calaria were asked to remain outside. Neither were particularly offended and Civan instead found use for their new bounty of time.

A small team of dwarves ran past them carrying several blankets and lanterns. Curious to see the attacker that had driven them so far into the caves, Civan turned to follow and waved Calaria along as well. The dwarves seemed a bit unnerved by their human stalkers, but Thirithufth had already assured them that any headsmackers they saw would (hopefully) not bring harm to them and they continued on.

"Shouldn't we rest a bit?" Calaria asked after some time. "We did just wake up from heat stroke."

"We're nearly there, if my counting is accurate. This is Cave 38 and...ah, yes." They passed through a gap that was practically invisible to Calaria's eyes; in fact, she had no idea how Civan had picked out the first 38 gaps as well. At the center of the room, a figure made of ice sparkled. "Cire Tyul..." the knight said. "It appears that Hal'amek is still after you; he's one of her biggest contractors."

"How do you...?"

"She's one of my targets when I take tenure in Auberon, among others. I make an effort to research their motivations and associates, should it ever be helpful in tracking them down."

The dwarves huddled around the frozen woman, mystified by her affliction. The blankets weren't likely to do much good against this much ice, but they threw them on anyway and poured a little extra oil in the lamps to get them burning. Calaria stepped up, causing most of them to back away, and placed a hand on the ice. "Shiva did this..."

"What would bring a djinn all the way down here?"

Calaria bit her lip. "Err...I have no idea. Look, these lamps aren't going to do her any good at this rate. I'll just..." She closed her eyes and brought a Fire spell to mind; rather than pitch a ball of flame into the structure, she spread the fire across the icy husk so as to carefully melt it away. Cire's head was the first to come unthawed. Once it had, Civan caught Calaria's wrist and pulled her hand away, motioning for her to wait.

Cire remained dazed for a minute or so, eyes drifting in and out of focus and head swaying to some unseen rhythm. The chattering of her teeth provided a measure of her awareness; as it picked up, she came to notice those around her. "Farfarel..." she spoke first, glaring at the man as he stepped before her. "You dragged me all the way out here just to--"

"I had no idea you were coming. It appears you were assigned to terminate some of my companions."

"Like her?" Cire nodded toward Calaria. "She's the little witch he wanted in one piece, right?"

"Her magic is the only thing that can melt your shiny new ice coat. I'd be careful what terms you apply to her."

Cire looked down. She was well aware of her current prison, otherwise she would have smacked Farfarel across the room by now. "What do you want, then?" she sighed.

"I just have a few questions before we turn you over to the dwarves. It was Hal'amek who hired you for this job, correct?"

"Believe whatever you like. I'm not sayin'."

"An undue intrigue with mages would say yes. Did he hire anyone to assist you?"

"Why should he? I know how to get the job done."

"Until now, that is. But thank you, it's good to know that the rest of our trip won't be similarly marred." He nodded to Calaria, who thawed the rest of the ice.

Cire reached for her axe, but found it missing; one of the dwarves spun it in a menacing fashion. Taking in those surrounding her, the mercenary lowered her guard and glanced at her feet. "What will you do with me, then?"

Another of the dwarves spoke up. "You will be a guest in our city until a decision can be reached by our king as to your fate."

"If they would please keep you, I will be along to pick you up at my earliest convenience," Civan added. "You may then serve your time in an Auberon prison. Less headaches, at least."

Cire nodded and fell into step as they formed a procession back to the city. Despite her appearance, she wasn't nearly as upset as she let on. So, she had given up Hal'amek as her employer. It was clear that Farfarel and the vizier were in leagues anyway, setting up this whole scene just to finally bring her to justice. She wouldn't be here long, though. Her children knew the code--if Momma isn't back in seven days, finish the job. They would find her soon enough trying to do that, and tear the whole damn city apart if they had to. It wasn't so easy to keep a Tyul down...

Stubbs and Thirithufth were waiting when the group returned to the city. While waiting for the others to return back in the city, Stubbs had tinkered with his rifle to add a revolving cylinder, giving the device an even more clunky appearance. He hinted that the modification had actually been worth it and that the chambers held something better than bullets. Imajin and Dilson arrived shortly after, carrying a set of four packs. "Hain't used somma this stuff since the days o' trade," she said, handing the packages around. "Should still be right fine, aye."

"Dwarven wares are made to survive the trials of time," Thirithufth agreed. "Mr. Stubbs here has raised the tower to just above the surface. If Dilson would be so kind, she can lead you back up to the desert. You can then gather the cursed one and climb in. We'll raise the tower the rest of the way in one hour, whether you're in it or not." He passed a watch to Imajin. "Consider yourselves fortunate. You appear to have made a friend of our city without even lifting a finger in our assistance." He waited a moment for those words to sink in, then turned and left.

Dilson waved after him. "Ach, dinnae mind mister hobknob. We hain't seen headsmackers in an age. Quite an honour ta entertain yeh." She winked at Imajin, who gave her a careful smile.

The trip back to the surface was rather droll compared to everything that had transpired since they had left it. Dilson stopped just shy of the cave's opening, afraid that the skeletons would spot her and follow her back. She wished them all well, even going so far as to curtsey to Imajin and kiss his hand, then disappeared back into the cave. As they stepped back into the sun, wet towels wrapped around their foreheads, they spotted the tower sitting in the sand a few miles away and started for it.

It was not so much one tower as two, black monoliths that surrounded a giant box that was presumably the carriage they would ride in. Shooting out of the sand at tight angles were two black cables; they rose to the peak of each tower and then angled downward into the sand again. The carriage rested on the sand, though it was also connected to the towers via the wires. To one side of the carriage was a steel platform attached to the tower on that same side; there was a door just above the platform in the tower's side that would presumably lead into the room that contained the engine.

As they made their way toward it, Stubbs turned and poked Imajin in the shoulder. "What's dat, Boss? 'm I gonna have a Bossette soon? Li'l Bosslings?"

"Heavens forbid, Stubbs," Imajin said. "Do please focus on your task."

"Jus' sayin'. Ya don't trust ol' Neezer with yer int'mate li..." Stubbs trailed off as he caught sight of something nestled in a cave across the valley. Imajin spotted it as well--the tank that the mercenary had been driving. He checked the watch; there was plenty of time to spare, so he turned course, Stubbs following like a curious puppy. His curiousity faded as soon as he got a better look of the vehicle. "Shrackin' piece a trash," he mumbled, inspecting the tank's weathered hull. "Wouldn't fix 'er if ah could."

"It doesn't need fixing," Civan said. "This is Cire's. It's Toppaman design."

"Ne'er heard o' it."

"An ancient people. It's said that they weren't quite human, though none of the scholars in that field have determined why. Apparently they were adept at fusing machinery with its operator's very will. This machine will look like whatever the driver wants it to. For example, Cire would use this appearance to keep thieves away."

"Can we use it?" Calaria asked, climbing up onto the turret and peering inside.

"Doubtful. You need a keyword to start it."

"Ah could hot wire it," Stubbs offered.

"Perhaps another time," Imajin said, checking the watch again. "Better to place our fates in something that you can fix. We need to hurry and find Gorgoth."

They left the cave behind and resumed their pursuit of the tower, hoping to find Gorgoth already inside. Their hopes were unfounded when they found a breastplate and white robe lying in a heap along their way. From within the pile came an angry mumbling; they moved the clothing aside and found a pile of bones, among which was Gorgoth's irritated skull. "They finally got me," he scowled as Imajin picked up his head. "Markot, even. I am so sick of him."

"Markot?" Calaria asked. "Wasn't he the one you, er..."

"Killed? Well, yes, but we're undead. Give us a few days and we'll be back on our feet. Or some assistance. Like, say, someone to piece the bones back together. Any time now."

"It will have to wait," Imajin said. He spread Gorgoth's cloak out and collected the remains within. "The tower will be rising soon."

"That might be a problem," Gorgoth said to Calaria, who had taken his head while Imajin worked. "After they did me in, they all headed over that way. I hope you're ready for a fight..." The rest nodded in agreement and drew their weapons, save for Imajin, then started for the tower with shoulders set for action.

As they drew upon the structure, skeletal hands clawed up from the ground. One by one, the skeletons rose to impede them, sand pouring out of their mouths and eye sockets. They staggered about until they had formed a semi-circle around the tower, the head of which was formed by Markot the Fierce. "Halt!" he shouted. "In the name of our new master, you shall not leave this desert!"

"And who would the new master be?" Gorgoth sneered. "You?"

"Still your jaw, Gorgoth the Dismembered!"

"Gorgoth of the Detached Hand!" the horde crowed.

"He is far greater than either of us!"

The group looked expectantly at Gorgoth, who wobbled from side to side in the imitation of a shrug. "I have no idea. Perhaps there is fresh blood...so to speak."

"Great t' have yeh 'long," Stubbs scowled.

"Turn back and die slowly..." Markot continued. On cue, the skeletons drew their aged weapons: swords, axes, maces, and polearms, all bent and rusted but still deadly. Markot himself held Gorgoth's warhammer in one hand and his own battleaxe in the other. "...or die now in pain!"

Imajin set the makeshift satchel with Gorgoth's body on the ground and drew his chackram. He took a large step forward. "You waste the time of one who also cannot die. Do not expect me to roam this hell for all of eternity, barred exit by those who have given up the hope of salvation!" He clanged the chackram together; the crashing sound echoed from the narrow valley walls, becoming louder rather than softer with each reverberation. "This will not end in death as you say, but yes, it will end in pain!" He ran forward to engage, followed by Civan.

As the horde advanced to meet the group, Stubbs and Calaria backed away. Stubbs spun the cylinder on his rifle until it clicked into place with a tiny wick poking out of the active chamber. He held it up to Calaria. "Got a light?" The girl obliged and set the wick ablaze. Stubbs nodded and ran forward; he pulled the trigger of his gun and surprised a few skeletons when it shot out not bullets, but fire. Keeping the trigger depressed, he swung his weapon back and forth, almost cackling to himself as the undead before him were scorched away.

Amidst this, Calaria mulled with herself. A few fireballs could do damage to their adversaries, yes, but they were running short of time and not making nearly enough headway. She had promised herself to be more careful with her cover as a summoner...but there was no point in being careful if she would be dead otherwise, right? Taking another step back, she folded her hands together and brought a single name to mind. A flash of red appeared above the skeletons, and then Ifrit dropped down as if from nowhere. He slammed the ground with his massive fists, shaking everyone off their feet. He then spread his arms and released a ring of flames outward, burning everything in its path but stopping just short of the three men as they pushed themselves up. Ifrit glanced around, then leapt into the air and disappeared. When the dust had settled, only charred, unmoving bones remained.

Before any could question the sudden appearance, a deafening groan rose from the earth as the tower began to rise. They gathered Gorgoth and his hammer and leapt onto the platform before it had gone too far skyward, then ducked into the door to wait out the ascention. The door opened to a stairwell that spiraled down into the tower. Stubbs ran ahead, followed by the others, until they came upon another door, this one leading into a low-ceilinged room. Stubbs crawled in and slammed the door behind himself, demanding privacy while he worked. As the tower had finished its climb, the others made their way back up the stairs and out onto the platform, now several hundred meters in the air. Imajin spread Gorgoth's robe open and tried piecing a few of his bones together, though he was met largely with complaints.

Sometime later Stubbs stepped out onto the platform, clapping his hands together. "Sand everywheres," he said, coughing. "Got th' job done, though." He turned to watch as the second tower rose up far in the distance. They gathered their possessions and pried the door of the carriage open, then stepped inside. The walls were lined with large windows and metal seats, enough for at least two dozen occupants. Every seat was empty...but one.

The doors snapped shut behind them. They turned to the far end of the carriage, where a skeleton sat and stared at them. It wore both blood red armor and robe and a horned purple helmet. It held a claymore in its lap that was not at all old or dull. Unlike the other skeletons, yellow lights flickered within its eye sockets; they turned to look at the group. The skeleton stood. "Welcome," it rasped. "You look upon Lich, Destroyer of the Earth." It raised the claymore. "And now you die."

Masamune

"Lich!" Gorgoth snarled.

There was nothing left to be said by the skeleton. He immediately lifted his claymore with extreme ease and swung. Civan was able to produce his saber to intercept the blow. However it became all too evident that his sword could not match the weight and strength of the other sword. He escaped the lock of the sword and only nearly moved out of the way when Lich brought the sword down again.

In an instant, Stubbs had his gun at the ready and was using his cigarette to light it. Before he could fire, Imajin set his hand on the barrel and pushed it down. "You'll blow a hole in the side of the carriage with that."

Stubbs gritted his teeth, "Shrackin' hell."

Imajin readied his chackrams, but suddenly lost his balance when the carriage lurched violently. They all immediately glanced out the windows. The carriage had began to move, whether they were ready or not. Even more disturbing was that there didn't seem to be anything under them.

Lich wasn't phased and was narrowing the space between him and his enemies. Gorgoth went forward to swing his warhammer, but instead was on the receiving end of a blow that sent him crashing into the side of the carriage. Lich pulled back his sword, prepared to finish off his foe once and for all, but suddenly his skull swung forward. A bony hand crept to the back of his skull and felt a bullet lodged inside. The enraged skeleton turned to find Civan putting his pistol back.

Lich immediately turned forward to attack, but before he could swing, the carriage proceeded past the second tower and took a sudden turn, causing the claymore to lodge itself in one of the seats. In the split second while he was off balance, Imajin swung a chackram at the skeleton, which did little more than shred through his robes. However it got his attention and his eyes matched up with Imajin's as he removed his sword from the seat.

Before he could make another move, Calaria plunged her rapier in his back. A split second after she pulled it back out, Lich turned back on her and rammed his elbow into her jaw. As she sunk to the floor, Lich turned to the others, but was suddenly assaulted by Civan and Gorgoth, who charged at him and sent him flying back into the back wall of the carriage. The two suddenly stepped to the side, giving Lich a clear sight of Imajin standing on the other side of the carriage.

"Fools! You cannot kill me, even with the White Hand!" Lich bellowed.

"We don't have to kill you," Imajin replied. He suddenly stepped to the side, revealing Neezer standing behind him with his rife fixed on him.

"But we can have fun tryin'," Stubbs said.

For a moment, Lich seem perplexed by this. Before he could begin to take a step forward, the rifle fired with an explosive sound. What came out was less like a bullet than like a small cannonball. It crashed through Lich's ribs and hit the wall behind him. The moment it impacted the wall, the ball exploded and tore a hole in the back of the carriage. Lich was immediately sucked back as he fell to the desert below.

For a minute, the five of them were intensely silent, as they waited for almost anything to happen. Finally at last, Imajin spoke up. "It looks like we're in the clear."

Civan turned on Stubbs. "What the hell was that!?"

"Dem expensive, is what," Stubbs grunted. "Shrackin' dwarves don't sell cheap."

"He's gone at least," Calaria replied as she rubbed her jaw where she was hit. "Gorgoth... do you think you could...?"

She turned to see that Gorgoth was at the edge, looking at the desert below. He seemed to be oblivious to the lot of them. In a strange way, there seemed to be a certain sadness about him. None of the others knew what to say, as they had found it was incredibly difficult to be attached to an undead skeleton. It was Imajin who ended up walking up beside him.

"It's not easy being betrayed," Imajin started to say.

"Betrayed?" Gorgoth questioned. "No. I care not for their fate. They follow the strong."

"Ah," was all Imajin could contribute. He stood there silently with him as he watched the sandy dunes pass underneath them.

"Trees," Gorgoth said suddenly.

"What's that?"

"There used to be trees... everywhere," Gorgoth continued. "The entire valley... and a lake. Yes, there was a lake, I think."

"Where was that?" Imajin asked.

"Here. This place. From up here... I can see it clearly. "

"But this is all desert," Calaria said as she stepped towards them. "How could there be trees here?"

"There's not!" Gorgoth snapped. "Not anymore!" He marched away from the opening towards the front of the carriage. Civan and Stubbs cautiously got out of the skeleton's way.

"What's eating him?" Civan asked as he joined them.

"Maybe there were trees here," Imajin said.

Civan considered this. "Well... it's true that a desert here makes no sense."

"Why is that?" Calaria asked.

"Barren has never been natural. By all means.... this really should be a habitable area. The conditions are right for it... but yet no rain ever makes it here. There's not even a single oasis."

"'ey!" Neezer shouted. They all turned around to see him point ahead of them through a window. "Hate to ruin yer senna-mental moment, but we're runnin' outta wire!"

They all crowded around the window. As Stubbs said, there was indeed no tower beyond the one they were headed towards.

"What happens if there's no more towers? Do we stop?" Imajin asked.

"See any breaks?" Stubbs replied.

"So what do we do?" Imajin asked urgently.

Stubbs sat down in one of the seats and started messing with one of the belts that were attached to the seats. "Ya brace yerselves!"

The others followed suit. As the last belt was put on (belonging to Gorgoth, who found it difficult to manipulate the locks), the carriage stopped suddenly. Everything lurched forward violently, then back again until at last the carriage was set back in place. The group took their belts off warily, with the living ones rubbing their necks from the stress that had just been put on them by the stop.

"You'd think the dwarves could cushion the stop a bit..." Calaria moaned.

"Ah! But a shrackin' crick in me neck," Stubbs complained. "Gotta find that engine. I think it's downstairs."

"You should hurry," Gorgoth warned. "More of my brethren are coming."

"Shra-" Stubbs started.

"We know," Imajin interjected. "Just get working."