It was enough to fuel his decision.
“Gather to me!” he shouted, a command that would carry for more than a mile through the vast Underworld. He would collect his army, and he would follow the path of the wyslets, knowing that there would be new routes before him, new opportunities for plunder, violence, and war.
N ow their progress was encouraging, and Karkald and Darann even felt a few moments of excitement as they were able to stride along, climbing only gradually, making their way through what proved to be an extensive network of rock-walled caverns. After some hours they found a comfortable grotto in which to sleep, and even enjoyed the luxury of a bed of dry sand.
They awakened refreshed, and continued their trek with renewed hope, finding the route steadily advancing before them. Unfortunately, by late the next cycle they had found no sign of animal nor even fungus, and they began to wonder how long they could survive here.
Abruptly they halted, both of them groping for the memory of a sound that had just barked through the darkness, barely rising in volume above the scuffing of their feet.
“What was that?” Darann whispered.
“It sounded like a shout, didn’t it?” Karkald’s reply was as soft. For a time both dwarves remained immobile and silent, straining to hear. Soon the noise was repeated, a distant cry or howl that bespoke of frustration, despair, and anger. There was something exceptionally plaintive in the sound, a sense of longing that contrasted oddly with the piercing nature of the vocalization.
“Do you think it heard us?” Darann asked.
“It must have,” Karkald replied. “We weren’t trying to be quiet.” Not that they could do much to silence their march, he groused to himself, when they were forced to pick their way over loose rubble, feeling their way.
He was startled out of his private griping by the sound of his mate’s shout.
“Hey… where are you? Who are you?”
“Are you craz-!” He hissed in outrage, but was startled into silence by the sound of a reply.
“Help! I caught! Help! Help!”
The voice echoed through the cavern, but they could discern a direction. Immediately Darann started out, until Karkald stopped her long enough to get her to touch off a light. She held the coolfyre high over her head and followed along while Karkald took his spear in hand and pointed the weapon aggressively before him.
He quickly realized that they were walking down a smooth, natural pathway. Barely two or three paces wide, it was a seamless surface of rock that twisted through serpentine curves along the floor of a large, natural cavern. Suddenly he came to a stop, as the light revealed a dark hole gaping in the floor before him.
“Who dere? Help! Help, help!” yelped the stranger, in a voice that somehow managed to sound savage and childish at the same time.
And the voice was coming from the hole in the floor. When Darann extended the light over the lip of the pit, they found themselves staring down into a bright-eyed, but exceptionally homely face. The huge eyes blinked against the sudden illumination, and before the figure clapped hands over his face Karkald got an impression of big ears, puffy lips, and large, jutting, teeth. Squinting, the prisoner looked through his long fingers, that mouth spreading into a pathetically hopeful grin.
“Gotta rope?” The question was a chirping squeak.
“We do!” Darann replied, turning to Karkald expectantly.
He shook his head, and stepped back from the edge of the pit.
“That’s a goblin!” he hissed quietly.
“I don’t care!” she retorted, more loudly, then raised her voice even further. “We’ll help you!” she called out, giving Karkald a scornful look and folding her arms across her bosom.
“Tanks! Tanks lotsa much!” cackled the goblin. “Oh, me belly and me feets so sore!”
“How long have you been in there?” asked the dwarfwoman, pointedly turning away from Karkald.
“Lotsa long time. All lone too. Only seed a couple wyslets come by-I howl fierce at ’em, dey go way.”
“Wyslets?” Darann’s eyes widened in alarm, and Karkald couldn’t resist taking a quick glance over his shoulder. Those slimy predators of the Underground were rare, but ravenous and dangerous when encountered. He had never seen one, save in captivity in Axial, but the thought of the fang-toothed killer slinking through these caves was chilling in the extreme.
“Get the rope,” Darann directed, and Karkald scowled as he unslung the line from his shoulder.
“Can you climb?” he asked gruffly, curiosity getting the best of him as he threw the end into the pit and automatically wrapped the end around his waist in a sturdy belay.
“Wit’ some help… Can you pull me too?”
Both dwarves pitched in to lift while the goblin seized the rope in his two hands. Using his flat feet to push off the wall, the creature slowly made his way up the side of the pit. A few moments later he crawled over the edge of the hole and lay gasping on the cavern floor.
Karkald had never seen a goblin, but he was surprised by the wave of revulsion that almost urged him to kick the scrawny creature right back into the pit. Instead, he scowled and took a step back as the goblin climbed to his broad, incongruously large feet.
The fellow stood there, big head bobbing atop a thin neck. His posture was stooped, and his legs were spindly and knock-kneed. The big ears drooped to either side of a round face, a visage dominated by that broad mouth with its array of chaotically arranged teeth, and those bright, watery eyes.
“What’s your name?” Darann asked, after extending introductions for the two dwarves.
“Hiyram is me,” said the goblin. “And I owe you big tanks.”
“That’s all right-” the dwarfwoman began, before the goblin cut her off with a disdainful snort.
“But your dwarfy kind is what made dis trap! You two dwarfses big doofuses! I go ’way!”
“Why, you ungrateful cur!” snapped Karkald, snatching up his spear. “You’ll change your tone, or I’ll pitch you back in that hole-forever!”
Before he could jab the weapon the goblin bounded away, moving in a speedy scuttle that carried it completely around the pit. Hiyram’s jaws gaped, baring teeth that suddenly looked dangerous. With a jeering snarl, he raised his head, sniffed loudly and insultingly, then turned to amble into the darkness.
“What a runt!” growled Karkald, who nevertheless restrained his rash impulse to hurl the spear. He had no doubt but that the nimble creature could easily evade the clumsy weapon, and he reminded himself that he would just be giving away one of his tools. Even more, he was surprised to realize that, despite his anger, he really didn’t want to kill the wretch.
Still, the encounter had put him in a foul temper, and he glowered at his wife.
“That was a waste of effort and coolfyre. We’re lucky he didn’t cut the rope.”
“Well, I’m glad we helped him!” she spat, then drew a ragged gasp of breath.
He was startled to see that she was really upset. Her irritation only soured his own mood and aggravated his hunger. He stomped around the pit and continued through the cave without looking back, though he listened to make sure that Darann was coming behind.
For the rest of that cycle they continued on without speaking. Though they started along the path taken by the goblin, they saw no sign of the creature. Darann periodically touched off a bit of flamestone, and Karkald picked a route through the network of caves and caverns. After making a dozen such choices, he figured that they had safely departed from Hiyram’s route, but even so he held his spear at the ready and continued to listen for any sound.
The going was relatively easy, with smooth floors and wide passages that didn’t require any steep climbing. They were making good progress, but more and more the question occurred to him: progress toward what?