Feryl ran for hours, driven on by her rage. She did not know why she had been left alone for dead once again. She did not know of Mynix’s brave attack, or that her rescuer had lain near death just a few yards away from her, and she did not know that Datrius had taken flight because he was gravely injured, and based on Feryl’s present mood, Mynix was lucky she had not killed Dastrius, and robbed Feryl of the one thing she now wanted, vengeance.
It had been around noon when Feryl had awakened and she ran across the flat terrain with no regard for caution or stealth. “Let them come” she thought to herself, she felt like her rage was enough to slay a red dragon should she need to. She had the one thing that had eluded her all these months, that had kept the rage at bay, a face and a name, and now she would fight her way to him, and kill him if she had to face all the hordes of the nine hells to get to him. At sunset, she finally could run no longer, and laid down behind a rock to sleep, at about the same time that Grenwyn and Laith were discovering Mynix.
As they stopped for a rest, already exhausted from their previous flight, and now the added load of carrying Mynix over the harsh dry terrain, they began to worry that Mynix would not survive the long journey. “I don’t think she is going to make it all the way to Taylia’s,” Laith said as he looked down at Mynix’s pale skin and watched her shallow breathing. “Aye, I had hoped we could make it there, as I know her healing skills be far beyond what my kin can offer, if they offer.” Grenwyn said. “It may be our only chance,” Laith offered, “I know, its just…I haven’t been there in 20 years, since I lost me wife and they couldn’t wake me girl.” Grenwyn trailed off. “I know what it is like to face a self imposed exile,” Laith explained.
Laith then told Grenwyn his own painful story of how he had led the pack of werewolves to his own village, and of the death of his sister’s husband. “Aye, I know it is what I must be doin,” Grenwyn grumbled, “but knowin doesn’t make the doin any easier.” Laith laughed a little and clapped him on the back. They both rose and heaved Mynix onto their back as they began the trek to Devil’s Deep.
Feryl awoke and the cold around her was so deep she could scarcely draw breath. She opened her eyes and saw some manner of wraith floating on the other side of the rock she had slept under. Feryl was thankful that the sword Grenwyn had made for her was a combination of mithril and silver, because she knew only silver or enchanted weapons could harm an incorporeal being. She raised herself slowly to her feet and winced at the pain in her stiff and tired muscles. As if the wraith could sense the motion, it flew at her, she jumped onto the rock and dodged aside, but where the wraith had touched her on her lower left leg, her skin felt cold and lifeless.
She tried her best to balance on her right foot, and delivered a downward thrust. She hit the creature and after the initial sensation of swiping at air, felt resistance and her blade tore through the creature, but it did not dissipate. The feeling began to return to her left leg, so she hopped down from the rock and thrust forward with her sword, piercing the front of the creature. There was not a visible wound, but the creature seemed somewhat less substantial.
“Dastrius said you would be a tough one,” it wheezed in a strange echoing voice. “Mentioning that name was the last mistake you will ever make.” Feryl said as her rage threw her into a flurry of blows. She was heedless of any wounds affecting her, and she struck right, reversed grip and used the momentum to drive home a strike from the left.
She charged forward swinging her sword madly left, right, left right, and with each blow, the creature seemed less substantial. The wraith was shrieking now, but Feryl could not hear it, all she could hear was her own blood rushing behind her ears. She struck the thing several more times before she even realized it had dissipated into a pile of goo on the ground. Still enraged with the heat of battle, Feryl took off running again, and if any more of Datrius’ servants were waiting out there for her, they avoided her and she found no more battles as she ran through the long dark, night.
Grenwyn and Laith trudged over the rocky flatlands until they came to a large dark outcropping of rock. Despite the red color to the sands and soil that surrounded them, the rocks were dark grey, and hard, and very old. They gently laid Mynix on the ground. Laith wiped the perspiration from her fevered head, and used the last of the water from his canteen to wet her dried lips and mouth as Grenwyn went to search for the door.
Grenwyn had not been there in over twenty years, and the door was of dwarven craftsmanship, so he knew it would be difficult to find. But he had the eye of a dwarf craftsman himself, and his own grandfather had built the door, so as soon as the light of the moon shone through the clouds enough to give him illumination, he saw the seams and pressed in on the door while speaking a word that sounded like boulders falling down a mountainside. Grenwyn looked to Laith, “Ye can be leaving if ye want to, I haven’t been here in 20 years, and my kin and yer kin have never been much fer likin each other. If they don’t trust ye on my word, ye might be killed or imprisoned here.” “I’ll take my chances,” Laith said, “besides, it might be nice not to be asked to leave for once.” Grenywn chortled at that and they gently lifted Mynix and began the downward trek to Devil’s Deep.
Grenwyn was gifted, as was all his race, with the ability to see in the dark. Laith used a pendant Taylia had gifted him in order to see in the dark as well, so there was no need to use a torch which would draw unwanted attention to themselves. They crept down the dark passageways, and the only warning sign they had to signal they were no longer alone was the click of a crossbow as a bolt fired not more than a few feet in front of their faces. “Halt and name yourselves or ye’ll be dyin where yer standin.” Said a gravelly voice in the darkness. Laith was amazed at the stealth dwarves could muster in their own environments, because above ground they sounded as lithe as the boulders they sprang from.
“Ye be lookin at one of yer own kin, Grenwyn Shalesplitter, son of Gorwyn, son of Borwyn who made the door out yonder. This be my traveling companion, and loyal friend Laith and though he be of the pointy eared variety, he ain’t all that bad. I also be carrying a gravely wounded companion, a human girl by the name of Mynix, she’s sure to be dyin if we don’t get her some help soon” A few chuckles resounded at the joke about the elf, and then a torch was lit and a hard looking dwarf stepped forward. He didn’t say a word, but he looked Grenwyn up and down, “Aye, it be him,” he said, and Grenwn clasped the dwarf on the shoulder, "ah Morwyth, it be good to see ye, but how..” he began, "never mind, this girl here is me first order of business, there will be time for questions after." he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as the implications of Morwyth's appearance became more clear to him. Morwyth suggested they move on to get help for the girl. He said they could all pass for the time being, but the council would have to approve whether or not the elf and the girl could leave again. So it was that Mynix was taken to recieve healing from a wizard, who the dwarves humorously regarded as “Rock Head” with the watchful eye of Laith standing by. Grenwyn followed Morwyth up into the housing tunnels to hear his tale in full.
“It was the year ye left,” Morwyth began, “we captured one of them red wizards snooping around the outside, we brought him here and told him we’d set him free if he proved himself of value to us.” Morwyth how the wizard had been held here for 2 years, set to work only on the task of setting right those who had been petrified. When he woke them, they were just as they had been before they were frozen. “And Onyx..?” Grenwyn dared to ask. “I’m sorry my friend, since she was shattered, there was nothing he could do.” Grenwyn felt all the pain rush back into him again, and he was about to give up any hope of happiness when Morwyth broke in, “But we saved Ambre,” Grenwyn’s eyes lit up, “Ye have my baby girl?” He asked. “She’s not much of a baby anymore,” Morwyth said, “I’ve been raisin her as me own fer ya, and she’s more of a handful that you and yer wife, may the rocks preserve her, were put together.” Grenwyn beamed with pride
Luckily for Mynix, that same red wizard had decided he did not want to leave when he had found the cure. Over the 2 years he had spent with the dwarves, he had become fascinated by their ways, and obsessed with the magical properties inherent in the types of rocks. Being a red wizard, he had been schooled in every area of the magical sciences and that included healing. The wizard was nearly as short and round as the dwarves he stood with, and his black beard was nearly as thick. His dark eyes darted nervously behind a pair of glasses enchanted to help him see in the dark. While he wasn’t a particularly kind man, he was not dark of humor and heart like most of the red wizards. He simply wanted to work on and research magic, and to be left alone to do it. While he had enjoyed the level of education afforded him by becoming a red, he did not like the tasks they always set him about, which included how he got in the bind with the dwarves in the first place. When he found that surface magic was blocked by the dark rock, he was happy to stay in hiding and work on his experiments. In exchange for room and board, the wizard made potions for them to change the properties of the rocks, and gave healing to those who were injured when they bothered him for it.
Grenwyn followed Morwyth up into the housing tunnels to meet his long lost daughter. When he entered Morwyth’s home, he saw her standing there, and couldn’t help but chuckle. She was a beautiful as her mother, but with the flame red hair of her father. Her beard was still coming in and was neatly combed into a jeweled band at the base of her chin. Around her neck she wore the sapphire that had brought such ill luck to their family, but its twinkle paled indeed in comparison to the fire in her eyes.
“So, me wanderin father finally decides to come home,” she said angrily when she turned to see him. It was not the welcome Grenwyn had expected but he couldn’t blame the girl for being angry. She had lost her mother, and had awoken after being stuck in stone for several years to find her Father had abandoned her. “well, at least I know where me hair came from,” Ambre said to break the silence, “They all said me Mum’s hair matched the stone she was named for.” Grenwyn didn’t know what to do, so he just nodded. “Well the least ye can be doin is givin me a hug an telling me its good to be seein me,” she said indignantly, Grenwyn’s eyes welled and he wrapped his girl is a hug so big he swept her off her feet like she was still the tiny baby he had left behind.
Mynix slept for nearly 4 days before she finally began to awaken. Her dreams had taken her to dark places, but she could not remember them. She awoke in a dimly lit stone room, and saw Laith taking reverie in a chair across the room. She looked to the other side to see a fat little man in scarlet robes pouring over a tome. She wanted to speak, to call out to her friend, but she could not find the strength so she settled back to trying to piece together what had happened to her and where she was now. Laith did not seem to be alert or fearful, so they must be somewhere safe. Judging by the look of things, she knew she must be underground, but the man she was with, while he looked close to it, was definitely not a dwarf.
To help sort things out, she let her thoughts drift further back. She remembered awakening by the campfire, and the fight with the undead when Feryl was carried away. She remembered following Feryl and her brief fight with the sorcerer who had injured her. A bright light flashed before her eyes and she jerked upright into a defensive position only the see the stout little wizard jump back and shield his face. She lowered her guard as things came back to her, and she saw Laith smiling as he crossed the room to embrace her. A small part of her wished she would see in that expression the same thing she saw in it when he looked at Feryl, but she knew it was not to be and set that feeling aside.
Mynix relayed all the information she had about Feryl and her attacker. From the description she gave, Laith was able to confirm his fears, Feryl’s attacker her ex-lover, Dastrius. Laith was saddened to know that Mynix had no idea where Feryl had gone to, but the injury Mynix had given him and his flight left hope in his heart that she was still alive. Laith however, did not know how hard Feryl’s heart had become, and how consumed in vengeance she was at that very moment, and that though alive, she may be lost to them forever.
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