"We have a long descent-though not nearly so far down as the Lavasea," the king informed them as they reached one of the metal cages signifying a lift station. An advance company of the guards, about ten warriors, descended first, and while the group waited for the cage to return, Rackas Ironcog did some explaining.
"The warrens of Zhakar are an extensive network of caves and caverns, mostly dating back before the Cata shy;clysm. The network is divided into three sections, with the nearest of them the lizard warrens. There we raise the creatures you've seen around here."
"They look like good mounts," Ariakas noted. The potential speed and power of the subterranean steeds had indeed struck him as very impressive. If the Zhakar could somehow be allied with his draconian horde, the warrior calculated that a company of lizard riders would make an excellent strike force.
"Good food, too. You've seen the warclaws up here- they're the ones that our most accomplished fighters use. But there are far more of the fastclaws-rarely ridden, but commonly used for meat."
"I see," Ariakas muttered, none too taken with the notion of a reptilian repast.
"The second warren is the water warren," the king continued. "It serves as the great cistern of our kingdom
— a reserve that would last us for many years of drought, should the mountains dry up overhead."
"And then there are the fungus warrens?" guessed the human warrior.
"Aye. They were begun as the primary food source of Zhakar, and many of their chambers still serve as useful farming quadrants. Here, for example, we grow the mushrooms from which we brew our tea. The drink pro shy;vides the only relief we get from the discomfort caused by the mold plague. But I gather that you are not inter shy;ested in the fungus we use for food?"
"No-it is the one that has caused your plague that we desire." Still, Ariakas thought, at least that explained why the Zhakar forced themselves to drink the stinking tea he'd first noticed in the Fungus Mug.
If the king had any questions as to why these visitors were interested in such a product, he gave no indication. Instead, when the empty lift cage finally returned to their level, he gestured them forward. Another ten guards waited while the royal party entered. "They'll follow us down," King Ironcog explained.
"If you think it's necessary," Ariakas replied coolly. "Though you'll find that we can take care of ourselves pretty nicely."
The significance of the remark wasn't lost on the Zhakar ruler, who looked meaningfully at the mighty sword worn on the warrior's back. "Of course-of course!" he agreed. "But you must understand-as your host, I simply couldn't allow any threat to be offered to your person while you are the guest of my kingdom."
"Your solicitude is very reassuring," Ariakas said wryly, wondering if the king in fact desired the guards to protect himself from his guests. Of course, the warrior meant what he'd told Whez Lavastone the day before- he was nobody's assassin. He would deal with the monarch of Zhakar and leave it to the dwarves to settle the issue of who their ruler was to be. At the same time, of course, he would not hesitate to respond quickly and violently to any overt treachery on Rackas Ironcog's part.
The cage rattled downward through the shaft in the rock until it finally clanked to a halt on a solid stone floor. Guards outside the lift threw the cage door open, and the four passengers emerged into the warrens.
Immediately Ariakas was struck by the pungent scent in the air. In a way it reminded him of the Fungus Mug back in Sanction, though the stench here was far more overpowering-and yet, somehow, at the same time more natural. It was as if the entire cavern had been steeped in the stuff of the bitter Zhakar mushroom tea, yet all the liquid had been poured away, leaving only pervasive and strong-smelling dregs.
In addition to the odor, the air was extremely humid. Somewhere not too far away they heard a gentle lapping of waves against a stone shore, and Ariakas suspected that the water warrens were very nearby. Still, the light from his glowing gem showed nothing more than a sur shy;rounding cave of slick, wet rock. Several passages led in different directions.
"This way," said Rackas Ironcog, leading them toward one of the passages. Avoiding the king's trailing robe, Ariakas fell into step beside him, while his companions followed behind. Ironcog paused only long enough to let the file of warriors precede them into the darkness, while the rattling of the lift behind them announced that the Zhakar of the rear guard had arrived in the warrens. The cage door opened and the other warriors emerged and followed.
A steady, rhythmic drumming pulsed in the corridor before them, seeming to come from very near at hand. "What's that?" Ariakas inquired, as soon as he heard the noise.
"Don't worry," the king reassured him. "It's a pair of my drummers in the vanguard. We like to announce our
presence so that some of the, er, less cooperative inhabi shy;tants of the warrens know we're coming. It gives them the chance to get out of our way, and avoids an unpleas shy;ant encounter for all concerned."
"What sort of inhabitants are you talking about?" wondered the human.
The dwarven monarch did not elaborate.
For a long time they marched through the darkness to the steady beat of the drums. Around them dripped sta shy;lactites and columns of natural rock. The spires of stalag shy;mites often rose toward the ceiling like gargantuan fangs. Water trickled here and there through these war shy;rens, and the dank, moldy smell continued to grow stronger.
Often they passed large patches of fungus, where mushrooms had sprouted on a surface of wet rock or within the smooth silt of a clear, shallow pool. All in all, this cavern network seemed more alive than any subter shy;ranean location Ariakas had ever seen-including the lair of the Shilo-Thahn.
Abruptly the drums grew louder, the beat a trifle faster. When Ariakas raised his eyebrows in silent ques shy;tion, the king dismissed his concern with a casual ges shy;ture. "We are approaching the growing warrens. This is the place where we have to be most cautious."
The warrior checked the rank of Zhakar before them. The dwarven guards held weapons at the ready, except for the two drummers. Looking behind, he saw that the rear guard, too, marched as if they expected trouble at any minute.
The cavern narrowed and began to twist and wind. The sound of the drums muffled slightly as the foremost dwarves passed around a corner of the cave. Ariakas's senses suddenly tingled in alarm, and he turned to cast a quick look at his companions. Ferros Windchisel scowled suspiciously while Lyrelee returned his look with concern.
Then with a silence as abrupt as a physical blow, the pounding drumbeats ceased.
"Look out!" shouted Ariakas as he saw sudden move shy;ment behind his companions. Shocked, he realized that the words had made no sound-even in his own ears! He yelled another warning-nothing!
Tik Deepspeaker, from behind Lyrelee, raised his hands and uttered a short chant, though Ariakas heard no sound. The priestess whirled, stumbling into a stone outcrop, and the warrior realized that the savant had blinded her. Grasping his sword, Ariakas instantly heard the cacophony of battle around him-as in the Fireplaza, the touch of the potent weapon had broken the spell of magical attack.
Before he could strike, Ariakas saw a Zhakar rush toward Lyrelee's exposed back, stabbing brutally. Des shy;perately, the priestess whirled away and lashed with a foot that sent her attacker staggering against the wall. Ariakas touched the hilt of his blade to the priestess's shoulder. She blinked and focused her eyes, once again able to see.
Zhakar rushed from all sides. Ariakas cut down a pair, then lunged toward the king. His blow was brought up short when he glimpsed a Zhakaran spear carrier who darted past him and thrust his weapon into Lyrelee's side. The priestess grunted and staggered. Ariakas chopped downward, splitting the skull of the murderous dwarf. Lyrelee fell forward and lay motionless on the ground amid a growing stain of blood.